#i heard that line and was like how can i wax poetry about this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blueiight · 1 year

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amc iwtv ep2 w K&Y

the marius painting… THE GROAN…. HELLO… i need this penthouse to be like a nightmare maze in szn2 . things quoted will be K

“WOW LOOK HOW STRONG HE (lestat) IS. FUCK HE NEED A WHEELBAROW FOR?” me: girl he just lazy

“hes (louis) high?” the fake heavenly image of lestat as satan framed by the streetlights .. the angel of death rising under the moon… LESTATS BLOOD WAS GIGGLING INSIDE ME mmmhm ik dat dick sum srs ha

“he (lestat) talkin bout ppl like they meat!”

“is he (louis) gone attack privileged white people?” i said girl i aint gone say yes or no

“bougie ass eating blood with a spoon.”

wait just realized louis did his first kill had a panic attack & ran outside right after😂😂then lestat wan use that as a teachable moment like. & not to mention lestat even in ep2 tryna be daddy n shit likeee i got all the money u need hello. 😭😂

lestat recognizing how my city is TO THIS DAY cops dont give no fucks. tourists fuckin round… also not them being NAKED THE FIRST TIME IN THE COFFIN HELLO

this poor fox omg… he would 100% eat my baby chuchu 💔💔

our book must be a WARNING.. ldpdl and the just say no! DARE campaign of the 2020s

U GONE MAKE ME BEG? Yes Louis I WILL. also louis saying mm me & u we gone have to communicate , just like the meat…. (ALSO LESTAT TELLING LOUIS WE WILL BREAK U OF THIS COMPASSION FOR HUMANS? BREAK?? OF ??.. ik the hoteps would say this an example of Buckbreaking✌🏾✌🏾)

louis never went so far to hear grace’s heartbeat to read her mind cuz he heard what mrs. florence thought looking at him & was too scared to hear what his sister thought… but hey she’s having TWINS!

THE NPC IRISH DUDE CALLING LOUIS BOY. I WILL KILL HIM TWICE. SHE SAID THIS SCENE WENT VIRAL ON TWT OF LOUIS COMNENTING BLACK MEN WHO USE THEIR WEAKNESS TO RISE & THE DABBLE IN FUCKERY IS WHAT MADE HER WANNA WATCH (but also louis saying he was a “black man who uses his weakness” … a weakness to covet power, to get on ahead in white society…)

“chemistry!” she snaps as she loops lestat & louis arguing at the incinerator three times , we got one…

“see this is gonna be one of the things lestat just dont get in their relationship he used the ‘primitive country’ line to trap him in now hes acting brand new about race.” put down the tumblr meta’s gang she got us

“if disrespect was done to u id kill myself? how can i say no to you? awww lestat. how romantic” SHED 100% FOLD💔

1912-1917 was louis wilt chamberlain days. statpadding for the seedy side of society, choking on the big stage (his relationship w his family gradually falling to pieces, and louis in the eyes of society as jim crow regulations creep on in)

“OH LAWD HE GONE BITE THE BABY?” then she got confused over the fact that 5 years passed so soon maybe we needed some more eps @amc lolz

“i always wanted to be a vampire when i was young but i see the problems with it now!“ 😂😂😂😂

LMAOOOOO LOUIS PIVOTING FROM DEFENSIVENESS TO CHOMPING ON DAMEK. THE PLEASURE OF THE LIL DRINK. BRINGING DAMEK TO HIS KNEES. LIKEEEEEEEE???? HELLO. THEY GET FREAKY IN THIS PENTHOUSE OK

shes of the belief that louis did NOT eat the baby gang.

LESTAT SAYING SPARE THE FAMILY ALL THE PAIN NIGGA U TURNED UR OWN MAMA…🆗🆒

louis saying ‘sound like trash to me’ is a perfect accent moment here lolol.

Ok shes in love w lestat& im like about to pass out.

the sheer emotional whiplash of going from DID I KILL MY NEPHEW I WONT EVER BE A PARENT 💔 to romantic & shameless dickmatazion slash pontification over lestat as lestat in said flashback waxes poetry over the sheer depression of being a vampire as he says how louis take this feeling of loneliness from him. . my sister topping it off by saying “ouuu romance”

“lestat said if ur not gone sing it right dont sing it at all” ALSO LESTAT SAYING THEY PULING TALENT FROM GAS STATIONS. modern lestat need to be scrapping on stan twt over his utter disgust w regard to music . hes on spaces saying do u know my name? aggressively like shadow v. kd on spaces in 2021

“He’s (Lestat) really fucking crazy!“

This poor soul was someones son… brother.. & he was to be butchered for what? an offending note? [Lestat] Removed a lifetime of confidence & joy in less than half an hour. 1) idiots not only seen the way lestat hunted louis in ep1, ep2 watched lestat torture this poor person , click out on louis for saying that its torture & got surprised that ep5 happened? CTE fanbase indeed also 2) my dummy dummy dummy hc that what lestat would consider ‘evil’ people to eat would b ppl who do v benign but personally offensable things to lestat like having bad singing voices is CANON amc wise😭😭

LESTAT WAS AN ARTIST IN BRINGING DEATH. louis waxing poetry over this scene of horror, watching this entire man’s life… they both crazy. He had a way about him and I was still, very much under that power. afraid not to disappoint… lestat is ur daddy in more than 1 sense huh.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS HOMOEROTICISM” referring to lestat& louis sharing the poor poor tenor. she not homophobic she in a homosexual rigmarole rn my friends

Alice (daniel 1st wife) dying her eyebrow back brown despite half of it being brown is just like louis in the 1910s using conk—[THIS USER BEEN SHOT]

“Aww Daniel & Louis coming to an understanding here. See Louis is a good guy. he got took advantage of by that SEXY ASS WHITE MAN-“ She still got a lil bit of CTE but we will fix it🤎

#yn.#iwtv #iwtv with K&Y

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nmsthim · 1 month

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POETRY SLAM:MINDLESS BEHAVIOR

WHATS UP WITH THAT!!! big mouth taking up the whole space smize to the gawds, I like your face right in y'all face, glecning off concentrate everyday is picture day lack of me? u up in anti, politics heard em say donkey noisy! there's A grey space of the situation ain't no exposing me no need to wait no longer Captain save a ho is here the longest yard or wondering anymore light it up and take action fast feed, light camera like magic I'm flashy you need me that's why I need to have all four doors its as simple as that, can you take charge ? abuse of the word, otherwise known as a public charmer is that a fact, what you about, you can hold it against me for stating facts, and get down to the nitty gritty I came to break bread, to get these fix, don't pull a fast one on me Bling fury, shut up the deaf dumb and blind spirit. I came I saw and conquer and yet I'm feel fix gimme my money back, having me in here with vain glories country ass doctor barber claiming Brandon and its a girl pulling hos ponytail, seeing lames, and bragging rights I never in team, in the presence such a strange fright. friendships, and rock the boat it came with, down to the boots, shiver me timbers, y'all gross for flood warnings, head in the wrong places…

I NEED A BREAKTHROUGH hurting in my soul might need some whiskey. pour it up drink, dang just slipped me a mickey another one, this parchness turn into a lonely soul. mics on a sound system, I'm running low up out my face, picture me the biggest shone, trying to out do me, this a stick up, cant leave without a better outcome its the 9 th inning goodness gracious lord have mercy on my soul what have I done to envision thus Far spiritual warfare I'm fighting as if my life depends on it. Raising my own damn self, sensei and jacking, ready or not here I come. this life that we living, together forevermore, it had to happen never knew to a situation, you just gotta understand, something. think outta the box and found what I face going in . you outta line , thinking I'm put up with you. no amount of deformation of character can add up to this. birds of a feather flock together, less there be danger. going the longest yard, pulling all connections. made up my mind and band together to join forces. I'm pulling your card.teasing a blue eye soldier This not an ordinary person b I'm fine as fuck. me vs me not needing another in the picture. you must think I'm booboo the foo, fighters and flight got them losing sleep. release the hounds like I was in a band of thieves, its the little things, they calling me like it rung a bell. and what! waxing and waning is it time yet no matter who's speaking the same language period. No voids, can be filled, fixed my eyes do you wrong like I never knew you. what would you do in a sticky situation. don't vow to nobody who don't pay your bills.and rent Super lets keep it moving I'm yearning for something moore and I'm noting that the darkness never did care if I was drowning. look on the bright side of things, sunny like nobody else could shine that bright. Touching the sun, somebody is going to have an asthma attack I should be right about finish and ready to amp you up if you didn't have done the same thing. What's A retort to a runaway ,love, love you moore, was there any other girl. cheater advice or how to tell a lie, the constant steady stream of lies detected. purple flocking like eggplant farms that cammm outta nowhere. break up the ice and make up the days break what's word of mouth anyways we not going down we not the help.

I LIKE IT LIKE THAT losing his marbles try to challenge me !? you yourself know where's the goofy at challenge accepted you a wanna be celebraty trying the life, 99 times couldn't get it right always need a reason choose a thot for picking you not up for the battle you just a basser show me the proof in the pudding telling me I'm nothing I got a feeling can't tell me nothing its like I contracted a bee sting a charge a bite some might something I m not going back to the way it used to be see past it like I I'm reading read em and weep ready set go no consequences if I believe it where you ought to be for this conclusion you must have me mistaken hot like I'm the next Jen many man manne Pac yo never heard of a sticker or just for kicks I love the living day lights outta you workout a knuck and buck cranking you the type to leave not come back for more but nothing comes back void what's made for me Skye to see you still not done ill be that one to say here kingdom come the grand special like I put my foot in it. I mean put it in you mouth straight out the kitchen . Saw you and roll up a I'm down for a killing might guy gotta have some smoke for a big figure Waited so long, had I cut a year to a meal lion standing on bidness like I'm the stallion get these dividends like I'm here for sit in set in stone not all that glitters is gold

#music #audible #album #sing #rap #rhymes #relatable memes

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retvenkos · 2 years

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dating keith kogane

requested DON’T PANIC, BUT TODAY WE’RE TALKING ABOUT WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE TO DATE KEITH KOGANE...

— firstly, i think it’s important to note that keith is terrible when it comes to romance, simply because he has zero idea what he should be doing.

opposite and equal energy to lance - keith has no idea how to flirt and at this point, he’s too proud to ask.

— one time, he tried to steal a pick up line he heard lance use, but he somehow bungled it really badly and it came us just....... wrong.

‣ (lance will not let him live it down, and will bring it up in every viable conversation for clout reasons.)

mostly, he just looks at you from across the room and exchanges a “healthy” amount of intense eye contact.

— i hope you’re good with keith sending ~vibes~ across the dark expanse of space because that was his primary form of communication during his intense crush phase.

‣ (one time, hunk saw this exchange and was like,,,,,, ‘yo, keith, you good?’ and keith was so embarrassed he avoided you and hunk for the next three days.)

— but, that doesn’t mean that keith doesn’t try - especially once you two are together.

he likes to leave you small gifts and flowers... just when you aren’t there to look him in the eye, of course.

— you’ll just walk into your room and find things waiting for you, and you know it’s from keith.

— you can slyly mention it, later, in front of everyone. the way he blushes and everyone’s teasing is gold. kiss him on the cheek, and it makes it all the worse.

— he’s also very sappy during late night conversations. most of the time, keith will come to you when he can’t sleep (which is a lot, actually, and he makes it a habit of waking you up to keep him company. he knows, too, when he’s caught you on a night when you’re dead tired and trying to pretend like you aren’t, and truthfully, it means the world to him that you still entertain him nonetheless) and you’ll talk until you both fall asleep come morning.

— and whenever you are apart, you still keep up the tradition by occasionally opening a (secure!) communication line to talk for hours.

— and the things he says when he’s halfway to dreaming.... it’s enough to make anyone swoon.

keith just has no filter when he’s tired. he thinks the world of you, and he can’t contain his opinions.

and especially when he’s away and you guys are chatting through the void of space... the way he talks about how he misses you... everyone should be taking notes.

‣ (and like,,,,, where did he get is eloquence from??? keith cannot string two (2) coherent sentences together when he’s awake, but when he’s dozing he’s writing full on poetry.)

‣ (also, tired keith has a texas accent.... you know his dormant accent slips out when he’s half-asleep. you know he’s embarrassed of it and pretends he doesn’t have it, later...)

— but lol, 98% of the time, keith is speed over style. his text messages to you are not about waxing poetic, and he is drier than a desert.

he communicates almost entirely with just the quick response “k”.

‣ (it would honestly be a little impressive how far he’s able to make one letter stretch, if it weren’t so infuriating.)

keith is the “c u l8r” and “wyd” texter,,,,,,,,, someone please teach him how to communicate,,,,,,,,,

‣ (however, i am a firm believer that keith would 100% mimic your style of texting after a few weeks. it’s a little love language, actually <3 )

— on occasion, however, you get keith to write you handwritten letters. his handwriting is absolutely terrible (if you can read it, honestly, you’re a legend, but please teach everyone else because shiro is the only one who can read his mission reports and field journal.... he’s tired of having to translate..... and the blade of marmora hates having keith give recitations of his mission reports because, again, keith can by dry as hell most of the time....) but the content???? absolutely golden.

they are simply the most raw and authentic thing you will ever receive from him.

he writes the same way he speaks - with little interjections like “uhh,” and ellipses for a pause - and whenever he writes a letter it’s like a little bearing of his soul that sounds so much like him,,,, there’s nothing that compares.

his letters are definitely something to keep in a lock box, and if you do have something sentimental like that.... well, when keith stumbles upon it or sees you filing his letters away, he’ll know he’s found something special.

— all that being said, though, keith is still the most romantically illiterate person you’ve ever met, lol.

he doesn’t know how to be casually affectionate! how to express all those feelings inside his chest!

he doesn’t know how to hold someone’s hand or hug them after a really long day! he doesn’t know how to initiate the comfort and vulnerability of being known, and knowing another in turn!

— he knows how to steal a kiss in the heat of a high stakes moment, but beyond that???? boy is just a series of question marks.

‣ (it’s a learning curve, for sure, so i hope you’re willing to guide him through it.)

— that being said, once keith gets accustomed to casual displays of affection, he’s a big hand holder. especially with the amount of running and hiding the paladins do,,,, he just doesn’t want to lose you.

— but you just know allura finds his initial inability to understand romance equal parts hilarious and tragic.

watching him absolutely fumble in complimenting you..... seeing his helpless attempts at trying to hold your hand...... she is trying to hold her composure, but her eyes are tearing up from the repressed laughter....

— so, controversial but true, keith goes to allura for advice.

keith claims that when it first started, allura was giving him unsolicited advice, because he originally went to go tell her off for making fun of him with lance, and she just gave him tips he didn’t want.

— but we all know the truth.

— and here’s the thing, allura is actually..... a really good person to vent to?

don’t get me wrong, lol, she still laughs heartily as keith retells his misadventures, trying to pinpoint where exactly he went wrong. but, what lives in the dating advice room stays in the dating advice room, and she doesn’t speak a word of it elsewhere.

— she also, of course, offers a lot of solid dating advice, though keith has to do a lot of parsing and editing when it comes to her idea of romantic dates... some of that altean stuff just doesn’t really translate well.

but she won’t even tease!!!! she has so much blackmail on keith and simply does not use it!!!! lance could never.

‣ (speaking of lance, he sulks in the corner when he finds out about all of this. he’s offended keith didn’t go to him for advice. wHaT hApPeNeD tO bRoS??? he’s very jealous - especially when allura refuses to spill the beans and tell all the embarrassing stories keith divulges.)

— but lololol,,, putting keith’s shyness and initial inability to grasp the concept of romance aside,,,,,, keith has many positive qualities to make for an interesting courtship, chief among them being his competitive streak.

if you think this man doesn’t live off of competition, idk what to tell you.

a solid half of your conversations could be verses for “anything you can do, i can do better.” and like,,,,, if shiro isn’t there to check your impulse control, there’s rarely a strong reason to not test it out....

— definitely, you’ve both ended up badly injured trying to prove to the other of your superiority, and the first half of your recovery is quietly fretting over the other while the final half is just trying to persuade the other that you were clearly the winner.

‣ (pro tip! argue with him when he’s tired to exploit his sappy side. he’ll admit he likes it better when you win, anyway, and 6 times out of 10, you can get him to admit to defeat... just so he can see you happy <3 )

— also, uhhhh,,,, if you’re just a little destructive on the daily..... well, keith isn’t going to lie and say he doesn’t find it attractive when you go unhinged or get that dangerous spark in your eye.... it clearly is.

— another “fun” activity the two of you do together is training!!!! again, keith is competitive as hell, so don’t expecting him to go soft on you, but sparring together? doing training courses? you guys learn to work in tandem sO. WELL. and keith enjoys working out with you.

but also,,,,, don’t expect keith to teach you to swordfight or anything because he’s the absolute worst. he has an aptitude for this sort of thing and doesn’t understand why you can’t just pick it up??? he has zero idea how to give you tips, and even though he’s trying, he’s still kinda failing.

— it’s also frustrating, though, because he’ll get so jealous if you go to hunk for help instead,,,,, it’s definitely been an instigator of a fight before, and you both had to write apology letters to hunk for putting him the middle of it.

however, all that being said, if you ever need a tutor for math, history, or another school curriculum, keith is actually a really good teacher. maybe it’s because he had to learn how to study, too, or because there’s not so much adrenaline pumping through his veins, but his temper is in check and he’s very helpful.

— and like,,,, okay, keith can be very short tempered sometimes, and unless you guys are childhood friends that are basically attached at the hip (and even then, it’s not a given), he can snap at you a lot without thinking about it.

— however, keith always apologises profusely - especially when you’ve done nothing and simply caught him at the wrong moment - and he continues to feel bad and try and make it up to you for days afterward.

it’s one of his best qualities, ngl - the ability to own up to his failings and try his absolute hardest to straighten them out.

though you should definitely tell him, sometimes, that he needn’t crucify himself for small mistakes. whenever keith does one (1) thing wrong, he immediately assumes he has to compensate 100x over, otherwise you’ll leave him and hate him forever,,,,,,,,

— just take a moment to remind him that you love him with his flaws. that he doesn’t need to be perfect.... you aren’t either, and you don’t expect it of him.

— kind of off subject, but when you get the chance to cuddle with keith (which is probably a little more than you’re expecting, once he gets comfortable with affection - he actually adores being held), please play with his hair. it is so incredibly soft,,,, and the idea that you just like to run your hands through his hair is equally as soft,,,, overall, it’s a 10/10 experience.

— he also likes it when you play with his hands - tracing the lines and pressing kisses to his fingertips,,,, all good moments.

but omg,,,, keith probably never puts lotion on his hands. he claims he just forgets but??? does it not hurt to have them so dry and cracked??? you definitely lotion his hands for him, and it’s a very sweet act of love.

— ooh! also! if you’re an artist or writer in any capacity,,,, i’m sorry but keith is looking over your shoulder. he’s just naturally curious! he just wants to know! it might be annoying the first couple times he does it, just because you’re not used to the presence, and if you really don’t like it, he will stop and rather sit next to you (though he’ll be obnixous and ask what you’re working on every 15 minutes), but if you let him linger, after a while, it becomes really comfortable,,,,, he’ll just rest his head on your shoulder and watch you work.... he doesn’t say anything other than the occasional compliment, but it’s just a way he destresses.

— also, keith really loves reunion hugs. he goes on a lot of missions for the blade of marmora! he does a lot of life-threatening work! when you rush towards him (or he rushes towards you) and you catch each other in a back-breaking hug,,,,,,, and then you press your foreheads together and just breathe in the other’s presence for a moment,,,,,,,,, his crops are watered. his skin is clear. he is thriving.

— oh, and that reminds me, asdfgjhgfdsdfgh,,, keith is 100% that guy who “doesn’t make pop culture references” because “he’s too cool for them,” or “they don’t make sense,” or “they change too quickly for him to ever keep up.” but now??? now he lives with pidge. and lance. and coran. there is quite literally no escaping the memes and the weird phrases, and he absorbs them just like the rest of you.

which means....... during conversations, you just know he mutters them underneath his breath, or he’ll mumble them into your shoulder, or he’ll tease you with them when you’re alone,,,,,,, only you get the pop culture side of him, and it’s equal parts sweet and hilarious (because keith,,,, you know you can just make a vine reference with the others, right? but no, no, no - he has a reputation to maintain sksksks).

— also, whenever keith does the most mundane activities with you, he is near always struck with the overwhelming reality of how much he loves you.

you’ll like,,, be cleaning your bayards together and it just hits him like bam,,,,,,,,

or you’re helping him clean his room (important, actually, because he’s pretty messy for a guy who self-proclaimedly “has no stuff”), and tossing socks his way and he’s just like ?????? love overwhelming ???????

‣ (it’s honestly the best, teasing him in those particular moments, because he’s so awe struck by you that he has no witty comeback to toss your way. it takes you right back to when you were first crushing on each other and he was an absolute mess.)

— and honestly,,,, to show keith how much you love him,,,, simply telling him is one of the best ways.

keith feeds off of praise, and he has the knack of knowing if someone is being truthful or not, and to hear you say such beautiful things about him with such sincerity in your voice.... it never gets old.

— especially if you mention loving his galra side too. he can get so insecure over that, and to know if doesn’t scare you,,,,, keith is getting real emotional, right about now. digging his head into your shoulder, and holding you close.

anything along the lines of “i feel safe with you” is such a confidence booster for keith. he would do anything to hear those words come out of your mouth.

— and finally,,,, let me just leave you with his parting gift,,,, keith fidgets a lot when he’s annoyed or nervous. he can be pretty obvious about it (especially when he’s annoyed, lol) and so you’ve gotten in the habit of putting your hand on his knee if he’s bouncing his leg, or putting your hand over his, and he’s learned to fidget with your hand, instead. sometimes, he’ll just go straight for your hand, and kiss it gently when you give him a look.

taglist: @starkeysslut, @teaand-dreams @konepmi // add yourself to the taglist here!

#voltron #vld #keith kogane #keith kogane x reader #keith kogane headcanons #keith kogane x you #voltron headcanons #voltron imagine #keith kogane imagine #headcanons #fluff

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after-witch · 3 years

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Take Flight [Yandere Nikolai Gogol x Reader]

Title: Take Flight [Yandere Nikolai Gogol x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re a fantastic actress when you’re on the stage. But your captor isn’t fooled when there’s no stage magic to hide your real feelings.

For request: request for anything with BSD!Gogol please!

Word Count: 1772

notes: Yandere, kidnapped, noncon implications, implied torture/physical abuse

You look so beautiful when you’re immobile. Especially when you don’t know what you’ve done to deserve it, when your eyes are widened in fear, your mouth whimpering behind the tight cloth gag; your mind no doubt racing, searching for what you’ve done and why this is happening.

You look especially beautiful when he opens his coat and pulls out a few tools. He deliberately lays the hammer on the far end of the table, next to your feet. Now that makes you beautiful, as you cry out as much as possible behind the gag, some drool making its way past the increasingly soaked cloth your chin. Your muffled “no” is music.

He hates to clip your wings like this. But it’s only temporary. And, really, you’ve brought it upon yourself. Not by acting up--oh, no, definitely not that. He smiles to himself as he thinks about what a good birdie you’ve been lately. How obedient. How submissive. How sweet.

It took a lot of effort. A lot of punishment. A lot of pain. But on the surface, you’ve transformed into the sweet swan that he’s dreamed about keeping in a gilded cage. Literally and otherwise. Of course, he’s not that easily fooled--he knows you still hate him, fear him, on the inside. No matter how much you embrace him or let him have his way with you, no matter how much you try to please him with words and kisses, you’re still fighting him in your heart. Beating against your cage with your wings when his back is turned, as it were.

And you know something? It’s just not good enough. His life is already a game of duality. And he wants only a singularity with you, a single reality where you are broken and his for however long he wants to keep you. What would be the point of throwing you away when you’re still fighting him?

And thus, it’s only fitting that you’re currently bound to the table where you’ve received your other punishments. He’s not much of a cleaner, and there’s still the odd blood stain lodged in the wood grains. A handy table with straps on each end that keep your wrists and ankle immobile. He’s even given you a pillow, because why not, why not?

It’s easier when you’re tied up to see the real you underneath, the desperate, terrified person that only wants to stay alive. That only wants to avoid pain. The remnants of blood stains underneath you are a testament to that.

You do put on a good show, otherwise. But not quite up to par, he admits, hence his critical review. If he was a theater critic, he might call your efforts “valiant, but not worthy of the highest acclaim.” Or perhaps “They clearly need a little more time to develop, but it’s a good effort.”

You can kiss him. You can perform for him. You can let him touch you and hurt you, when he wants, without complaint. But you can’t hide all of the little things that give you real state of mind away. The way your jaw trembles ever so slightly when you stand up on your toes (so precious) to give him a kiss. The quarter-second that your eyes drift away before you tell him you love him, you adore him, you never want to leave him. The slight hint of revulsion, always covered with a smile in an instant, when he enters your cage at night.

Did you think you’re fooling him? He hopes you did. He loves the idea of snatching the rug from underneath your feet, nimble as they may be. You’re good at acting on the stage--he could wax poetry about how ethereal, how in-the-moment you look when you’re dancing; when you’re practically flying across the stage, your tulle skirts swishing and the thin soles of your shoes slapping against the hard floor.

But when you’re off the stage? The magic is lessened. There are no stage lights to cover up your occasional tired expression, no swelling music to add emphasis to your movements if they become too strained. No stage tricks to hide your face from the audience for a moment of reprieve. It is no good, after all, for Odile to seduce the prince with her arms, her legs, the fierceness of her fouettes--if her face gives away that she finds him repellent.

Without the trickery of the stage, you give yourself away. Which is one reason why he’s decided to be oh-so-cruel to you today. The other? He’ll never tell you. Maybe you’ll guess it someday, if you happen to glimpse the expression he holds as you pirouette across the stage, no limits, no boundaries, only the music and the motion and the buzz of the audience to lift you up high.

But, he muses, picking up the hammer--the noises you’re making, oh, how fun!--it’s time to get back to the task at hand.

“Or at foot,” he says, giggling. But you don’t get the joke. He approaches the head of the table and your muffled pleas grow louder. They’re so soft, so confused. What did you do? What did you do? Please, please, please. He’s heard it all before, but it’s still enjoyable to take in. Like a comforting book.

He trails a gloved finger along your cheek, spreading your tears around like a child tracing lines on a foggy car window.

“I know you want to fly away from me.” He keeps his tone light and teasing. You immediately shake your head in denial, and Christ in heaven is that fantastic, the way you want him to believe you no longer desire escape, no longer desire true freedom.

He tuts at you, wagging the tip of his gloved finger in front of your face before leaning in closer. “If I let you fly away, would you still be my pet? If you fly away on your own, would you be free?” It’s rhetorical, and your expression betrays your lack of understanding behind his words.

He does want to hear your voice behind the gag, so he swiftly undoes the tight knot and tosses the soaked fabric aside.

“Please, I love you,” you say immediately, voice weak and pleading. “Nik--Nikolai, I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?” You hesitate for a moment, but then you continue. “I’m so sorry, whatever it is. I must have… disappointed you.” You lower your eyes and the downcast expression, the defeat in your gaze, makes him wish he had a camera on hand.

You’re so submissive. It really is beautiful. But you’re submissive because you want to avoid being hurt. You’re submissive because he’s got a hammer resting next to your precious feet and you don’t want him to lift up that hammer and bash your bones until they break.

Where’s the fun in that?

He hums to himself as he begins a deliberately slow walk back to the end of the table. He trails his fingers down your body and enjoys the sight of little goosebumps rising on your flesh, enjoys the way you squirm, just a bit, when he pokes at your sensitive side.

When he picks up the hammer, you begin to babble. The words aren’t important--he’s listening to the tone, the way your voice is thick with sadness and fear. Please, no, don’t, I’ll do anything; all words that run from your mouth like water through a stream. He ignores them and instead holds one of your feet still with his hand. There’s a power in your feet, thanks to the years of dancing and even more years of training. He thinks about taking that power away. About what that would mean. About what it would do to you.

When he rubs the end of the hammer against the top of your foot, you groan, a guttural sound of pure horror. The sound of someone whose entire reason for living, whose heartbeat, rests on the ability to dance.

Your breath is sharp and scratchy when he suddenly lifts the hammer up and brings it crashing down on your ankle--where it immediately compresses and squeaks, high and childish.

It’s rubber. It’s a rubber toy. Nothing more.

Your breath comes out in short, harsh puffs. He takes in your expression, which is at once horrified and confused and relieved and even a bit angry.

“What--”

His sharp, pleased laughter interrupts you. And when he laughs, you laugh, just a little. He’s surprised that he can’t tell if it’s a genuine laugh of pure relief, an attempt to mimic him to stay in his good graces, or a sign that you’re losing your mind. Maybe it’s a mixture of all three.

He wastes no time in undoing your straps, and he pulls you into a sitting position. Your entire body is trembling, an adrenaline crash turning your legs to rubber as he helps you to your feet and loops your arm around his shoulders for added support.

You don’t even have time to process the fact that he didn’t hurt you before he starts leading you out of the room and back to your pretty little cage and your pretty little bed. He drops you on the bed with a flourish, and you bounce slightly on the mattress--face still in shock, still processing.

“That was fun, right?” he says, voice once again teasing. “Now let’s play a little more.” He begins undoing his belt buckle, and what would have been the normal flash of revulsion on your face is replaced by something new: relief. Relief that you can dance? Relief that you didn’t earn any new scars, any new injuries, any new pain? He’s not sure that the exact reason matters. It’s something new, and it’s a step closer.

He grins and begins making quick work of his clothes. You’re already on your knees in front of him.

Relief, after all, comes in many forms.

#yandere #yandere nikolai gogol #yandere bungou stray dogs #nikolai gogol x reader #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes

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dracoqueen22 · 3 years

Note

Ooh Rescue Bots! Could we see them having some adventures in learning to fish?

A Chief's Guide to Relaxation

“I don’t understand the purpose of this,” Chase says as he perches behind the Chief, looking over his shoulder.

“Not everything has to have a purpose, Chase,” the Chief answers as he rifles through something he’s called a tackle box, plucking out brightly colored items one by one and examining them intently. “Sometimes, we do things for fun, or to relax.”

“How is this relaxing?” Chase asks.

Chief Burns chuckles and looks up at him, eyes bright beneath the brim of his tan hat. “Well, usually, it’s very quiet and I have a lot of time to myself. To think.”

“Oh.” Chase supposes the Chief has a point. There is usually very little quiet to be found in Griffin Rock, especially for the Chief, who not only has to look after the whole city, but also his family and the Rescue Bots.

No wonder the Chief needs to relax.

“And what do you do with the fish once you’ve caught them?” Chase asks.

Chief finally chooses one of the items -- it has neon-bright feathers and lots of sparkling decorations on it. “That’s if I catch one,” he says, and holds up the item. “This is one of my best lures, but it’s still no guarantee.”

“If? This isn’t a certainty?” Chase asks, flabbergasted. It feels like a waste of time. Why participate in a relaxing activity that has no guaranteed outcome?

Chief laughs as he threads the lure onto the end of the hook. “No. It’s not about catching something, Chase. It’s about the trying of it. And even if I do manage to catch something, I’ll likely let it go.”

Chase does not think he will ever understand these humans. “That seems so pointless.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.”

Chase frowns at the rod in the Chief’s hands. It’s sized for a human of course, and he can’t imagine trying to hold the tiny stick between his fingers. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think that it is very logical for me to attempt this fishing.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here.”

Chase turns as Heatwave’s voice rises from behind him, the crashing of his feet through the underbrush something Chase should have heard. He has a long box propped up against one shoulder, and Kade walking along beside him, wearing his own floppy hat and carrying his own rod.

“If I have to participate in this, then so do you,” Heatwave grunts as he drops the crate onto the ground with a heavy thud.

“Boulder and Blades aren’t participating,” Chase points out as Heatwave crouches to flick the latch on the box and lift the lid.

“Boulder is ankle-deep in a swamp, waxing poetry about the lifecycle of tadpoles, and Graham’s with him,” Kade says with a snort as he drops his tackle box beside his father and snaps the straps of his rubbery outfit. “Blades and Dani got called for a rescue.”

He mutters something like ‘lucky’ under his breath, but the Chief doesn’t comment on it.

“Well, I think the four of us can have fun without them for now. We’ll do something with the whole family on another day,” Chief Burns says. He focuses on his fishing rod, inspecting every inch of it.

“Here.”

Chase cycles his optics as Heatwave thrusts an object up at him. He takes it automatically, surprised to find a very good approximation of the Chief’s fishing rod, only sized for Cybertronians. It looks very much like Boulder’s handiwork.

“Boulder requests that we release anything we catch,” Heatwave grunts.

“Of course he does,” Kade sighs.

“I see no reason why we shouldn’t,” Chase says as he watches Chief Burns and attempts to emulate his partner in examining the fishing rod. He has no idea what he’s looking for, however, and anyway, it looks like Boulder hadn’t supplied them with any lures.

Heatwave swishes his own fishing rod through the air and grins when it makes a satisfying whistling sound. “Hey, I think I could make a decent weapon out of this.”

“Watch it!” Kade snaps, ducking to avoid the dangling line.

Chief Burns eyes all three of them. “I’m not sure why I thought this would be relaxing.”

Chase frowns at his fingers, which have become entangled in the fishing line, though he’s not entirely sure how that happened. “Neither do I.”

***

#draco writes #draco writes fanfic #transformers rescue bots #chase #heatwave #kade burns #chief charlie burns #raw unedited fic #flash fiction fills #open mic night answers

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broccoliboix5peepeeman · 3 years

Note

Prompt: Class 1-A is tired of tododeku dancing around each other so they propose a little round of 7 minutes in heaven to try getting them together. Bonus: Shoto doesn't understand the game so he asks Midoryia to explain it when they're locked together.

Omg the drama, yessssss!

Ochaco was annoyed.

Granted, this wasn't an uncommon occurrence. When Bakugou said something mean to Deku, she was ready to float that demon gremlin into space. When Mineta objectified her female classmates, she conjured the wrath of the whole universe to send him into oblivion. When people called Iida 'too robotic to have any real feelings', she responded by doing things the class rep definitely wouldn't approve of.

Yeah, Ochaco could get very irritated.

However, this time, it wasn't a rude comment or a perverted action that infuriated her. It was a lack of… Well, anything really.

She sat at the dining room table, ignoring her maths homework as she stared across the room and glared at Deku, who was sitting on one of the sofas, frozen in place as Todoroki napped next to him, resting his head on her friend's shoulder.

Ochaco knew the two liked each other. It was obvious from the way Deku talked about him and through the fact that Todoroki literally felt comfortable enough to fall asleep on him. Yet, neither of them would do anything about it!

She made eye contact with Deku and glared, as if to say, 'Do something, moron!' but he just shook his head and remained still. He could’ve at least wrapped an arm around him, or rested his head against him, but no. He had to be all flustered and awkward.

'Something has to be done.' She announced.

'I agree.' Jirou muttered, voice monotone as she twirled one of her earphone jacks around her finger. 'If I have to watch them dance around each other for much longer, I'm gonna lose my shit.'

'Right?!' Hagakure added, exasperated. 'I walked in on Todoroki waxing poetry about Midoriya's perfect freckles last week. I swear, I've never heard him talk so much. Even Yaomomo looked like she wanted to vomit.'

'What do we do though?' Ochaco sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

'We can't force them together.' A new voice spoke. 'But we can nudge them in the right direction.'

Everyone turned to watch as the back of a nearby desk chair swivelled around to reveal Ashido grinning at them. She was dressed in a suit with black sunglasses, stroking Koda's rabbit on her lap.

When they stared at her in question, she peered at them over the top of her glasses. 'I propose a game.'

'A game?' Jirou raised an unimpressed eyebrow, while Hagakure hummed excitedly.

'What kind of game?' Ochaco narrowed her eyes. As much as she was annoyed at them, Deku and Todoroki were still her friends.

'Gather around, girlies.' Ashido beckoned them closer, confidence ebbed from her very being. 'Allow Auntie Mina to show you the way.'

☀️🌙

The girls were quiet.

Izuku narrowed his eyes at them, gathered around the dining table as they whispered in hushed voices.

Too quiet.

Todoroki shifted slightly and Izuku quickly turned his attention away from his scheming classmates and to his best friend. He loved moments like this. Todoroki looked so peaceful and Izuku felt honoured that his friend trusted him enough to be so vulnerable around him.

He smiled softly, noticing the often hard lines of his face soften - an unguardedness that looked so out of place, yet had started to become increasingly familiar on Todoroki's features. Overwhelmed with emotion, Izuku wanted nothing more than to reach out and stroke his chubby cheeks, run his hands through silky hair, squeeze his arms around him and bring him closer.

But he didn't want to ruin things.

He knew Todoroki had a difficult home life. He had years of trauma to work through and Izuku was no different. He still flinched when he heard loud noises, just like Todoroki did when touched unexpectedly. Izuku also knew that he was Todoroki's first ever friend.

He couldn't risk destroying that by being selfish enough to tell him how he really felt.

'Hey, Deku-kun!' Uraraka sang, suddenly in front of them.

Izuku waved in greeting, before gesturing to Todoroki and urging her to be quiet.

She ignored him.

'Aw! Is Todoroki-kun asleep?' She batted her eyelashes innocently and Izuku mustered his biggest warning glare. 'Don't worry, Deku-kun! I'm glad actually, because I wanted to ask you, when do you plan on telling Todoroki-kun how you really feel about him?'

'Shhhh!!!' Izuku frowned and shook his head. 'Oh no. We're not doing this again, Uraraka-san.'

'Why not?' Her voice was sickeningly sweet. 'It's not like he can hear us.'

'It doesn't matter.' He whispered harshly. 'We've been through this. I'm not confessing because Todoroki-kun doesn't like me like that.'

'How do you know?'

'Because I'm me. No one feels that way about me.' Izuku sighed. 'And he doesn't care about romance stuff anyway! He’d totally freak out if I told him I wanted to hold his hand or kiss him-'

Todoroki suddenly twitched on his shoulder and Izuku almost launched himself into the air. Instead, he covered his mouth with his hand and stared at him in alarm.

He missed Uraraka's amused smirk.

'I'll hold your hand, Deku.' She spoke, smoothly, causing Izuku to shoot her a look. However, he quickly became distracted by the increase in temperature around him.

Is it getting hotter in here?

'Just kidding. I know you’re off-limits.’ His friend winked, before collapsing onto the arm of the sofa. ‘Anyway, I actually came over because me and the girls are organising a sleepover tonight and we want you and Todoroki-kun to come!’

‘I dunno, Uraraka-san.’ Izuku bit his lip.

‘Oh Deku-kun...’ Uraraka smiled playfully and crossed her arms. ‘Were you under the impression that this was an optional invitation?’

Izuku stared into determined hazel eyes and gulped.

☀️🌙

Shoto wasn’t quite sure how he got himself into this position.

One moment, he was asleep on Midoriya, having a lovely dream where his friend admitted to Uraraka that he wanted to kiss him, and the next, he was sitting in a circle with the rest of his class, waiting while Mineta and Bakugou stood in a broom cupboard together.

Shoto wasn't entirely sure what the point of that particular game was, but he'd learnt long ago not to question his classmates' antics. Plus, he had more important issues to focus on, like the fill-in game Ashido had decided to start between each pair-up. Apparently, everyone had to raise their hands, while the speaker admitted to never having done something before. Then, if you had done it before, you had to lower a finger.

Shoto wasn't sure what happened when you ran out of fingers.

'Never have I ever been walked in on by my parents.' Jirou smirked.

Several people lowered a finger, including Shoto. After all, his father never had learnt the concept of knocking. Privacy was non-existent in the Todoroki household.

'Woah, dude! You're telling me Endeavour has walked in on you jerking one off?' Kaminari sputtered.

'What?' Shoto raised an eyebrow. 'He used to walk in my room all the time when I was studying or napping. Yeah, I called him a jerk because of it, but-'

'It's okay, Todoroki-kun. Ignore him.' Midoriya laughed nervously. 'You can put your finger back up.'

'But-'

'Never have I ever broken a bone in my body.' Uraraka interrupted with a giggle. Shoto hummed suspiciously but let the matter go this time.

'URARAKA-SAN!' Midoriya exclaimed. 'How could you? This is a betrayal of the highest form.'

'Suck it up, Osteoporosis.' She stuck her tongue out and waited. Over half of the room, once again including Shoto, lowered their fingers.

'Fine, be that way.' Midoriya mumbled, before stroking his chin in thought. 'Never have I ever-’

'HAS IT BEEN SEVEN MINUTES YET?!' Bakugou suddenly roared from inside the closet, promptly silencing Midoriya. 'I swear, even an unconscious grape bastard can be annoying as fuck!'

'You knocked him out?!' Uraraka gasped, smacking her cheeks, before her face became eerily stoic. 'Good.'

When Bakugou was finally released, along with a limp Mineta, she then turned back to the circle and handed the empty bottle to Midoriya.

'Your turn, Deku-kun!' She sang. Shoto noticed how his friend turned bright red at the declaration. 'Come on, spin it!'

'O- Okay, fine!' He stuttered, taking it from her with shaking hands. After he placed it back in the centre of their circle, he flicked it with his wrist and it began spinning quickly.

Shoto narrowed his eyes when the bottle cast a small shadow as it rotated, but he quickly became distracted when the bottleneck suddenly came to an abrupt stop in front of him.

'Well, would ya look at this!' Ashido gasped dramatically. 'Midoriya, Todoroki! Give us your phones and get in the closet!'

'Wait!' Midoriya exclaimed, but he was promptly silenced when Uraraka pounced on him, stole his phone and carried him to the storage room, throwing him over her shoulder like he weighed nothing.

Shoto looked at the rest of the class, sighed and handed Hagakure his phone, before he followed his classmates, significantly more civilised than Midoriya, who was flailing around and shouting for Uraraka to put him down.

'Whatever you say, Prince Deku.' She smirked, before opening the door and throwing him into the small room. When he landed with a thud, she gestured for Shoto to follow.

The moment they were both inside, the door slammed shut behind them and they were surrounded by darkness.

'Are you okay, Midoriya?' Shoto asked as he heard his friend clamber to his feet.

'Yeah, yeah. I've had worse.' Midoriya laughed, before his tone became more sombre. 'Ugh, Todoroki-kun, I'm so sorry about this.'

Why was he sorry?

'It's okay.' He shrugged. 'I know they took our phones but we don't have to stay in the dark.'

'Wait, no. Todoroki-kun, I didn't mean-'

Shoto raised his left hand and conjured a small flame, which illuminated the broom cupboard. Cylindrical shadows cast upon the walls, dancing slightly as his fire flickered. The action also allowed Shoto to glance at Midoriya, who rubbed the back of his neck nervously. A harsh flush decorated his cheeks.

'Are you sure you're okay? You look hot.' Shoto reached out a cool hand to check his friend's forehead.

'Ah!' He felt slightly hurt when Midoriya jumped back. 'I'm f- fine, really! I'm just… Sorry for dragging you into this.'

Yeah, about that…' Shoto looked away and scratched his cheek. 'What exactly is this?'

Midoriya somehow managed to turn even redder.

'W- Well, I didn't th- think you'd ask that-' He covered his face with his hands and began mumbling to himself about how they were friends and something about crushing someone.

Shoto was very confused.

'No, what's this 7 Minutes in Heaven game we’re supposed to be playing?' Shoto raised an eyebrow. 'I don't actually understand why we're in here, but I didn’t want to ask the others.'

The mumbling stopped. Midoriya's head shot up and he looked at Shoto with watery eyes that reflected the light of his orange flames.

'O- Oh…' He looked momentarily relieved and let out a laugh. 'That… Makes more sense. Ignore me!'

'But I asked you a question?' Shoto tilted his head to the side. 'There would be no point asking if I ignored you.'

'I… I didn't mean… Oh nevermind!' Anxiety came flooding back to Midoriya's face. 'Okay, so basically two people get randomly picked to go into a small space together for seven minutes - but you already knew that, huh? Of course you did. Right so, there's no set rules for what we're meant to do in here, we can technically do whatever we want, but usually, the two people selected have to… Er…’

‘Yes?’ Shoto pressed.

He watched as Midoriya twirled a loose strand of hair around his finger and narrowed his eyes.

‘We’re expected to k- ki- kiss and stuff.’ He finally answered. ‘The game’s designed to get people together romantically.’

‘Oh...’

'Not that we have to kiss or anything!' Midoriya scrambled to clarify, frantically waving his hands in front of him. 'I don't want to make you do anything you're not comfortable with and I totally understand that you don't want to kiss me!'

'I never said I didn't want to kiss you.' Shoto frowned. He actually quite liked the idea of kissing Midoriya. He was brave, kind, attractive and someone incredibly special to Shoto. He’d never wanted to kiss someone or hold their hand before, not until Midoriya came into his life. Now, the idea was rather appealing.

‘Well, no… But I just sort of assumed-’

‘Do you want to?’ Shoto suddenly blurted out, before he could stop himself.

Midoriya’s eyes widened.

‘Do I want to what?’

‘Kiss me. Do you want to kiss me?’ Shoto clarified, shuffling on his feet. Heat flooded to his cheeks and his stomach felt funny, but all he could focus on was the surprised look Midoriya flashed him, as he searched Shoto’s eyes questioningly.

‘Y- Yes...’ He stuttered out, taking a step closer.

Shoto mirrored the action.

'Good, because I want to as well.'

Izuku smiled at that and found Shoto's free hand, tentatively intertwining his fingers with his own calloused ones.

Shoto swallowed at the contact, familiarising himself with how much warmth such a small touch could radiate. 'Kiss me.'

He watched as Midoriya drew closer, regarding him through heavy-lidded eyes as he reached up. Shoto felt the pad of a rough thumb stroke his cheek and immediately leant into the touch, eyelashes fluttering.

'With pleasure.' Midoriya's breath fanned against him and Shoto inhaled sharply when those wonderful lips finally met his own.

His flame burnt ever brighter and Shoto quickly extinguished it before it could grow out of control. When darkness surrounded them once more, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to be completely consumed by the feeling of slightly chapped lips pressing against his own. He had no idea what to do next, but when Midoriya opened his mouth and licked at the seam of his lips, Shoto eagerly parted them in response.

As they deepened the kiss, he let go of Midoriya's scarred hand and wrapped his arms around his waist instead, pulling him closer as his friend tangled his fingers in his hair. A slight tug at his roots had Shoto gasping into Midoriya's mouth.

Feeling bold, he snaked his hands under his friend's shirt and explored his toned torso with half-hot half-cold hands. The juxtaposition in temperature coaxed a string of moans from Midoriya, which sent shivers down Shoto's spine. Hoping to hear more of those wonderful noises, he proceeded to drag his nails down a freckled back, eliciting a guttural sound that he'd never heard from Midoriya before. However, it was quickly swallowed by another kiss.

When Shoto's hands eventually came to rest on his hips, Midoriya pushed him back until he hit the locked door with a thud.

'Fuck, Midoriya.' He barely had time to whisper before those lips were on him again.

It was all moving so fast, but he didn't care. Shoto had gotten a taste of Midoriya and now he was addicted. He craved more and more.

'Is this okay?' His friend asked between each peck of lips.

'Mm, perfect.' Shoto bent forward to mouth at Midoriya's neck. He sucked at the sensitive skin there, not caring if he left a mark.

'This goes without saying, b- but I- ah!' Midoriya panted, tilting his head to give Shoto more access. 'But I really- really like you, Todoroki-kun.'

Shoto pulled off him with a pop and kissed a trail along his jaw, before his lips came to rest against Midoriya's own, their breath intermingling.

'I like you too, Midoriya.' He whispered, rubbing their lips together as his back rested against the door. 'So much.'

Their chests heaved in tandem as they kissed once more, simply enjoying the feel of one another. Touching and smelling and tasting. Shoto had never felt so at peace...

Then the door opened.

Shoto latched onto Midoriya out of reflex as the two of them fell backwards. Calloused hands scrambled to cradle the back of his head, cushioning him when they landed on the floor with a loud thud, and Shoto had to marvel at Midoriya's inherent instinct to protect.

'Todoroki-kun, are you okay? Are you hurt?' He pulled back and cupped Shoto's cheeks to check him over.

'I'm fine, Midoriya.' He reached up to cover his hands with his own and smiled softly.

'Good.' His friend leant back down to kiss him languidly, ignorant of their classmates around them, who were stifling giggles.

'Wow, get a room, guys.' Kaminari heckled.

'We had one actually.' Shoto pointed out as his hands wandered lower. He squeezed Midoriya's ass through his shorts unabashedly, relishing in the small squeak he let out, followed by the jeers from their peers. 'Not our fault you guys decided to interrupt.'

'Bro!'

'Disgusting!'

'Put them things back where they came from or so help me!'

'Stupid Deku and Icyhot!'

'That's one way to come out of the closet, Deku-kun.'

Midoriya giggled quietly at that. Shoto had no idea what Uraraka meant, but he didn't mind. Instead, he just smiled softly and looked up into verdant eyes filled with mirth.

Perfect.

#tododeku #todoroki shoto #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #wingman ochaco #todoizu #todomido #dekutodo #lovely people #AgarJelly writes #i had major writer's block with this but i beat it!#kissing #7 minutes in heaven

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watch-grok-brainrot · 4 years

Text

Wuji Refrain Breakdown/Translation

I feel like every time I hear the refrain of the cql end theme I break a little because the feeling of mourning and missing and loving overwhelms me.

煮一壶生死悲欢祭少年郎

EVERY TIME this line starts playing my heart just stops. The imagery it invokes SO freakishly sad.

煮 - boil/cook

一 - a

壶 - pot

生 - life/birth

死 - death

悲 - sorrow

欢 -joy

祭 - sacrifice/memorialize

少 - small/young/few

年 - years

郎 - man/boy, used also as part of the binome meaning groom (新郎), sometimes used to address a male significant other.

So all together i would translate it as

“Boiling a pot of life’s breadth of feelings to memorialize a young man I loved”

The idea of “boiling a pot of” I associate with alcohol. A lot of old school booze was ingested warm. And that echoes the character for sacrifice/memorialize since alcohol is often poured onto the ground to memorialize people. Pour one out for the dead, right?

And the phrase 生死悲欢 actually echoes a song dynasty poem by su dong po where he says “ 人有悲欢离合，月有阴晴圆缺 humans suffer sorrow, joy, union, and separation and the moon has clear and overcast days, waxes and wanes”. The union and separation part of the phrase about people got replaced by life and death -- LWJ and WWX’s specific union and separation.

So the image this line paints in my head is snow slowly falling outside the jingshi. LWJ with his hair down, tending to a pot of emperor’s smile. Tears are probably flowing down his face but no one is there to see it so it’s ok. He pours out the emperor’s smile -- all of it -- and looks up at the moon and says something to WWX. And in his head, there is zero question that WWX is the youth he loved.

明月依旧何来怅惘

So this continues from the previous line where LWJ pours out the pot of liquor and thinks of wwx. He stares at the moon and he asks the moon about his feelings.

明- bright

月- moon

依旧- still/as before/ unchanged (two characters are aligned with and old)

何 - what/why

来 - come

怅惘 - listless/distracted

“The moon still shines bright, so from whence does my listlessness come?”

This echos poetry by Li Bai, Su Dongpo, Wang Anshi, Wang Changling, and basically anyone of note in chinese poetry. The image of a bright moon is often associated with wistful longing, missing loved ones, and inexplicable sorrow. Examples (via haoppo’s quick translation and any additional notes i think are relevant):

秦时明月汉时关，万里长征人未还。——王昌龄《出塞》

The bright moon since Qin and the Pass since Han, 10000 li traveling, the people have not returned.

( this is a poem about war. the moon and the pass symbolize how war has been continuous since these have existed. The 10000 li represents the distance between China proper and the borders. The people not returning are the soldiers. OOOOOF.)

明月几时有，把酒问青天。——苏轼《水调歌头》

When will the next bright moon be? I lift my liquor to ask the deep blue sky.

(This poem is ICONIC. It’s the on same one as where 人有悲欢离合，月有阴晴圆缺 is from. It’s very commonly associated with Mid Autumn Festival. The whole point of the festival is to look at the moon and realize everyone you love that is still alive is able to see that same moon. Sweet, sentimental, wistful)

春风又绿江南岸，明月何时照我还？——王安石《泊船瓜洲》

The spring breeze has brought greenness to the lands of Jiangnan. When will the moon’s light guide me home?

(Jiangnan means south of the river. It’s a region in china south of the yangtze. Iconic because it includes Shanghai, Nanjing (nanking), Hangzhou, Suzhou, etc. Jiangnan is where a lot of cultural things happened in south china. Hangzhou and Suzhou are two of THE MOST BEAUTIFUL cities. There’s a saying that in the sky there is heaven and on earth we have hangzhou and suzhou. I can go on about this but this isn’t a post about how freaking much i love traveling in jiangnan.)

我寄愁心与明月，随风直到夜郎西。——李白《闻王昌龄左迁龙标遥有此寄》

I mail my sorrowful heart and bright moon, via wind, directly to west Yelang

(I didn’t want to use the standard bright moon and frost poem we get whenever we think of Li Bai. But i also couldn’t not include Li Bai! So this one! Li Bai’s writing is pretty clear he has feels and he’s sending them to west Yelang. But what is west Yelang? It’s where his friend is! The poem is basically, hey, i heard you were at this palace so i’m writing you a poem and telling you how i want to be with you!)

So the next line is a tone shift and it’s more of a promise, IMO. This is WWX and LWJ’s wish. Not as heartbreaking but still part of the refrain so i want to include this in my post.

不如潇潇洒洒历遍风和浪

This part is a MOOD and hard to translate. I will try to at least explain it.

不如 - not as good as/would rather

潇潇洒洒 - freely/natural/easy/unrestrained (ope, isn’t this just wuji? :P)

历 - experience/weather

遍 - through

风 - wind

和 - and

浪 - waves

“I would rather freely experience all of life’s dangers.”

So, 潇潇洒洒 is just a MOOD. It’s the mood of a rogue cultivator untethered to rules. It’s the mood of the legendary masters in Wuxia Jianghu who does what they want and are completely at ease. They wander through towns righting wrongs and standing up for justice and then leave without a trace. It’s the feeling of wind in your hair as you stand at the top of a hill on a crisp day. It’s free of stress and pain and suffering. I think the closest thing i’ve seen in english is something like “footloose and fancy free” but without the romantic connotations.

And then the experience + through basically means experience all of or experience thoroughly.

And wind + waves is a way of saying hardships, danger, or trials: the wind blows and waves come, the waves bring the ups and downs of life. I love how chinese words are very imagery based.

天涯一曲共悠扬

tiān yá yì qǔ gòng yōu yang

天涯 - end of the earth (literally sky + cliff)

一 - a

曲 - song/tune

共 - together

悠扬 - melodious (leisurely + spread)

“Playing a melody together to the end of the earth.”

And this part of the song invokes the last scene of the show where WWX is playing a flute ON A CLIFF (note, end of earth = sky + cliff). I’m positive he’s there waiting for LWJ and trying to hasten LWJ’s appearance by playing THEIR SONG.

Ok. I’m done. I’m going to go listen to this song and TRY NOT TO CRY. And it’s ONLY 4 LINES of the song! The rest of it is just as bad. Gaaaaaaaah. SO MANY FEELS.

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skzsauce01 · 4 years

Text

In Fair Verona︱Chapter 2

Synopsis: Jisung knows he is the Romeo to your Juliet. He could wax poetry about you all throughout rehearsal and even a little after. Except Hwang Hyunjin is the one playing Romeo in the school play, not him. Jisung is just another tech crew member that you don’t know, but he’s determined to win your heart... by any means necessary.

Warning: none... yet

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: fem!reader x Jisung; fem!reader x Hyunjin

updates every Wednesday and Sunday @ 11 PM PST︱chapter list

O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?

Deny thy father and refuse thy name,

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.

Jisung is waiting for fourth period to begin and homeroom announcements to be over when he overhears two girls discussing the play. He stops doodling in the margins of his notebook once he hears you being mentioned.

“She’s so lucky! She gets to kiss Hwang Hyunjin!” the one with the ponytail exclaims.

So that’s Romeo’s name. He makes a mental note to look him up on Facebook and Instagram later.

Her voice then drops to a whisper. “I heard they kissed during in-class rehearsal.”

Jisung snorts and quickly disguises it as a sneeze. Stage kisses in school productions are almost always fake; based on his experience, there’s usually a hand hiding obscuring the kiss, so the actors get as close as possible without actual contact.

“She’s so lucky,” the other girl sighs. “Oh, Y/N, Y/N! Why did you have to get the part of Juliet and not me?” she dramatically says.

Jisung silently agrees but for a totally different reason and goes back to drawing sunbursts when the conversation turns into a debate about who would be the second best choice for Romeo.

Jisung leaves his belongings in the green room after school and sits with Chan behind the soundboard while he waits for rehearsal to start. Chan is busy with testing new sound effects and new music choices, so Jisung scrolls through Hwang Hyunjin’s Instagram. He only finds food pictures and some videos of him dancing. Nothing incriminating.

“Hey, did you bring dinner today? Me, Felix, Changbin, and Jeongin were planning to go to the convenience store during dinner break,” Chan invites.

Jisung has a bowl of instant noodles and a thermos of hot water in his backpack. “I’ve got food already.”

“Ah, next time then!”

“Actors! To your places!” comes through on the loudspeaker, and Jisung hurries backstage. The balcony is being pushed back to the center of the stage already. He shimmies through the gap between the wall and the main curtain, trying not to trip on any cables. Changbin is sitting with his giant binder open and his headset on. He points to another headset on the table, and Jisung takes it and puts it on. The comms are already abuzz with bad jokes and the sounds of turning pages.

The side door opens, and you rush in, adjusting the circlet in your hair. Your lips close and part, and Jisung can only imagine the swears you’re mouthing. He wants to shout something encouraging, but that would only delay you. He also has no idea what he would say anyway. The floor lights for the cyclorama tint your whole body blue as you hurry to the stairs for the balcony. You make it to the top just in time.

Ms. Park tells Hyunjin to start from “She speaks.” To Jisung’s delight, Hyunjin has not improved from yesterday, and his delivery only is slightly better than monotone. Meanwhile, you look as crestfallen as you possibly can. You rest your cheek on one hand and gaze into the distance, which turns out to be the back of the auditorium where the soundboard and light board are. Romeo likens Juliet to an angel, and Jisung agrees — you’re beautiful, bright, and out of his reach.

Hyunjin ends his lines, and it’s your turn to say the most famous line of the entire play: “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?”

Your cries resonate with him; why did Hyunjin have to be Romeo? If he knew that you were going to audition for the lead role, he would have too. If the current Romeo managed to get the part, then he would have had no problem. He could have been the one looking up at you, telling the world how lovely he thought you were.

Though he’s far away and off to the side, he sees the way you glow as you recite your lines. Your passion radiates off of you, and Jisung gets a direct hit. He’s so enamored by you, he doesn’t even mind when Hyunjin poorly says his lines.

It’s like that for the rest of the scene. Jisung remains standing and watches you and Hyunjin flirt in Elizabethan English. Before the scene ends, Jisung detaches himself from the curtain and positions himself by the prop table. He pretends to be rearranging the props so that as soon as the lights go out and the tech crew members on stage left drag the balcony back into the wings, you speedily walk to the other wing where he is.

It’s strange to be excited by a mundane act, but that’s what love does, he supposes. He whispers, “Be careful of the cables,” at you.

“I know,” you whisper back. There’s no sharpness to it; it’s just a simple statement.

You brush past him, and your arm, raised from holding your skirt, knocks into his elbow. He stiffens, and you murmur an apology before leaving through the side door.

After a less than satisfactory scene four, the director decides it’s time for a dinner break. There’s a few cheers in the comms and an audible sigh of relief from the girl playing Nurse. Ms. Park reminds them that dinner will end at 6, so she expects them to be back in the auditorium by then. Changbin is already leaping out of his chair and running down the stairs on the side of the stage. Jisung imagines that Chan, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin are just as ready to eat; they were discussing what to buy for dinner right when the scene started.

Jisung follows the other members of the crew to the classroom for dinner. The room is just as crowded as before, and there’s a long line to use the microwave. Jisung squeezes through the groups of people and gets out his meal.

“That’s a smart idea,” a familiar voice comments. When he looks up from his water pouring, he sees that it’s you.

He looks at the glass container in your hands and realizes that you’re one of ones waiting to heat up your food. “Your dinner’s probably better though,” he lamely responds. His face begins to feel warm, and it’s not from the steam.

“It’s the slightly burnt fried rice I made three days ago,” you smile. “Wanna trade?”

He wants to say yes so badly. But it would be better to play it cool, right? The panic must have shown on his face since you laugh and say, “Knew it.”

The line shuffles forward and so do you. He turns back to his food, disappointed that he didn’t take you up on your offer. He likes fried rice.

(And you, but that’s only the tiniest bit relevant to his plight.)

He is halfway through his meal when the chair in front of him is pulled out. You sit and set your container down. He smells kimchi with a touch of smoke.

“Hi,” you say. The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Any chance you’re willing to trade?”

Jisung shakes his head, playing along. “I’m half way through mine already, sorry.”

“Darn.”

There’s a moment of silence before he decides to break it. “Your name’s Y/N, right?”

“Mhm.” You swallow your rice. “It’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but… I don’t actually know yours,” you slowly say. “And we’re eating together, which makes it doubly embarrassing.”

The way you say it makes Jisung’s heart pound. It’s like a date, but not really. “I’m Jisung.”

“The props guy, right?”

He shakes his head “I’m part of the floor crew. ”

“Oh! I saw you by the props earlier, so I thought you were. And you’re always watching the play, so I thought you were waiting for cues or something.”

A wide variety of curses appear in his mind. He can’t let you know the real reason why.

“No! I just really like Shakespeare,” he makes up. More unnecessary lies flow out. “Romeo and Juliet is a really great play. I love the plot and the characters. Speaking of, our play is going to be so great. You — I mean, the entire cast is perfect.”

You light up at the compliment, and Jisung swears he’s looking directly at the sun. “You think so?”

You’re far too amazing to be stupid, naive Juliet, but he nods his head anyway. “You’re a good actress.”

“How do you feel about Hyunjin then? Does he live up to your expectations?”

The brainless Romeo who only pursues Juliet out of lust? “Yeah. He’s exactly like Romeo.”

“Hyunjin will be happy to hear that,” you say. You glance at the clock, and Jisung does too. It’s only a few minutes away from six o’clock. “Dinner’s almost over. Darn, I need to get into costume, too.”

While you pick through the less appetizing portions of your meal, Jisung finishes the last of his noodles. Not a minute passes before you snap the lid back on the container and jump out of your seat. You hurriedly say goodbye and run out the door to the dressing room.

Jisung stays seated, processing what happened. Was it a friendly conversation or flirting? Did you eat dinner with him because you felt bad for him or because you were interested in him? He replays the last few minutes in his head. You started the conversation and chose to sit at his table, so it had to mean something. You joked with him and beamed at his compliment, but you also brought up Hyunjin and no one else. He sighs and leans back in his chair before someone yelling the time makes him jump out of it.

He helps set up the next scene before watching the play from stage right like before. He feels strangely betrayed when he hears how desperately you, as Juliet, want to hear Romeo’s message after getting his hopes up at dinner. His brain knows it’s not real, but his heart thinks otherwise. He paces in a small circle to try and get out his nervous energy. He stops after a minute and forces himself to think of something else. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend it’s him that you’re referring to; he’s the one you want to marry.

In his daydream, you stand in front of him in a white dress and a circlet instead of a veil. The bouquet of roses in your hand matches the glowing blush across your cheeks. You look up at him through your long lashes, and Jisung can barely hold himself together at the sight of you. His hand covers his mouth to stifle his soft sobs. You’re no different. With shaky breaths, you hold a piece of paper in front you and read your vows.

“... in sickness and health. I promise to love you until death do us part,” you manage to say through your tears.

The minister pronounces you husband and wife, and Jisung reaches out to cup your face. In reality though, he is only able to touch air. The pretty stained glass of the church is soon swallowed by the darkness of backstage. There’s no organ playing, only Changbin yelling at him in his ear to get ready for Act III.

The first scene of Act III features a poorly choreographed sword fight, two deaths, and not you. In other words, nothing of Jisung’s interests. Rehearsal ends after the scene is finished, and Jisung halfheartedly listens to the tech director’s notes. Like yesterday, he gets called out for not paying attention enough to calls. He once again promises to do better, but Mr. Gi and Changbin don’t look like they’re buying it. He really has to do better tomorrow.

When everyone is finally dismissed, Jisung goes back to the classroom in hopes of seeing you before he goes home. The actors are still receiving notes from the director, and it doesn’t seem like she’s going to be done soon. He tries to catch your eye while he grabs his belongings, but you’re fully listening to Ms. Park. To add to his disappointment, he notices that Hyunjin is sitting by you. Thus, Jisung “accidentally” opens his textbook, sending all his papers to the floor, hoping that you take notice. You do and give him a sympathetic smile.

He plays “Marry You” on the drive back home and sings along, thinking of you.

~ ad.gray

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shadow--writer · 3 years

Text

Maybe we're all Lonely and Afraid, Maybe we're all Trying to Find the Words to say

song!

Maeve x Lucas. Shadows on the wall. 2.8k

TW (there are more squicks): slight mention of past abuse, mention of plague, mention of eye stuff lol

@dela-png

Lucas was a hard worker.

It was obvious from the way he moved, from the way his face scrunched up as he thought.

Watching the same thing be mirrored on someone of much shorter stature had become...an amusing game of sorts to Maeve. This had gone on for a few weeks now, Will begging them to take the lessons down to the dock to get out of the stifling heat of being indoors.

While she agreed at first, under the guise of the heat, she soon realized the boy had other motives in coming to the dock.

The air today was stifling, even outside. She fanned herself with her hand, almost melting into the chair she sat in. Will had finished his work quickly, a bit too quickly, before running off again.

Lilith and Amanda had gone off alone to seek shelter from the heat, a flimsy disguise to be alone if she ever heard one. But they got what they needed to done, and with a wink she sent them off.

Emmie and Andrew on the other hand…

“Ms. Maeve it’s too hot,” Emmie whined, sinking into her chair.

She reached over to take the little girl’s hand, gently holding her wrists in her hands. Her still, oddly enough, cold hands.

“We can go to get some more water...well you could finish your water,” she said with a warm smile. “Water is very important in staying cool.”

Emmie made a face. “Yeah but water is gross!”

“...my love, it doesn’t have a taste.”

“What makes it gross!”

She laughed softly, letting go of one of Emmie’s wrists to brush back her hair. Just a bit sweaty, her cheeks were rosy though. No fever, no sunburn. No signs of a heatstroke.

“Why can Will go and play and we can’t?” Andrew whined, crossing his arms as he stared at his addition pages.

“Will isn’t...playing. He’s helping Lucas, see?” She pointed to the smaller boy, toddling after Lucas while brightly talking about something. There was a necklace around his neck.

The eel tooth she pulled out of Will’s stomach. What a first meeting.

She pursed her lips to keep from smiling. Will had burst into the clinic when she was trying to save a man’s eye (a very impromptu moment that almost cost that man his other eye) yelling about how Lucas made him his own tooth necklace.

It did take a while to calm Will down from the sight of the man’s infected eye (and her all bloodied), but that wasn’t her fault.

He now wore that necklace everywhere. She never saw him without it. And if he didn’t wear it around his neck, she tied it around his wrist. Oh how he bragged about it to the others when Lucas wasn’t around. Talking the big talk about how he was just like their big brother.

She hid her giggles, watching Lucas pick up a crate of fishing gear and watching Will attempt to pick up the same.

Attempt, being the key word.

He fell back with a thump, making a face at the heavy crate. Lucas was none the wiser, silent as he walked away from the young boy’s struggle.

Lucas was so quiet when he worked. And the others tended to avoid him like the plague. And she knew what avoiding like the plague looked like.

She rubbed at her palms, trying not to think back on that time. The blood on her hands. The tears. The horror in the streets. The smoke from the Lazert blocking out the sun.

She sighed, massaging her temples. Sometimes she wondered how on Earth she was able to sleep at night. Most nights she didn’t go to sleep to begin with. And of course, her quite atrocious eating habits.

Which Lucas, somehow, was helping to manage. At least a little.

Will picked up a smaller crate, this one having hooks and replacement fishing line. Quickly, he bolted after Lucas.

She wondered how long this would go on before Lucas noticed his little shadow. The shadow with the face of a round cheeked boy. So energetic and innocent. The missing teeth reminiscent of hers.

Giggling, she held her arm over her head as she looked up at the sky. No clouds. Not even a hint of rain.

She knocked three teeth out the first time she fell from a tree. Her mother told her that if she kept her teeth by her bedside she would trick a fairy changeling. A well tricked fairy would leave sweets.

Ah, she was thinking in fairy tales again. It was the innocent and the horrifying that made her miss her mother.

And she was waxing poetry. All lost in her mind today it seemed.

“Here, we can wrap up lessons, and you two can go find somewhere to cool off. It’s too hot for arithmetic anyway,” she said, closing the books scattered around the rickety old table.

Andrew and Emmie lit up, dashing away from the table and laughing as they ran who knows where.

Smiling and humming to herself, she started to clean up the mess they made. It was an explosion of books and papers, and it was going to be a pain to sort the pages by kid.

She tied her hair back with the handkerchief, her smile growing bubbly as she touched the soft yet worn fabric. Such a simple gift. Small yet she treasured those who made it.

She snuck a look at Lucas, he was showing Will how to bait a hook. The latter of which was gagging at the prospect of having to hold a worm. That poor worm.

A treasure from those who made it and those who helped give to it.

Lucas was a hard worker.

But he was kind.

Watching him laugh, the boisterous sound making her heart flop in such an odd way she had to look away from him. Hearing Will try and mimic such a laugh was amusing as well, making her stifle her giggles to not be heard by the two of them.

Will liked following Lucas around, chuffing when he chuffed, rubbing the back of his neck when Lucas did so. The weird, adorable, totally Lucas, focus face now on the face of someone much younger. The crease of the eyebrows, the squint, the way he breathed harshly when things went wrong again. The way his tongue would peek out from his lips when he focused really hard.

Kids were strange things.

Will cheered when he baited his hook, Lucas dodging a little as to not get impaled by the hook as the boy waved the baited hook and line around. Both were laughing, the sun unbearably beating down on them.

She swept the papers into one hand, rapping them against the rough surface of the table to even them out. Tucking the small stack into the notebook of her notes on addition, she moved on to Emmie’s work.

Lucas watched her for a moment, helping Will set his hook down so someone else may use it.

She knew his footsteps, now echoed by a shadow’s. Will stomped harder to make his footsteps louder, and she found it adorable.

“Afternoon,” she said, keeping her back to them. Her heart kept fluttering weirdly when Lucas was around. It was starting to become even stranger than normal.

He kissed the top of her head, she could feel him smiling against her hair.

“You smell nice today,” he said softly, taking her hand away from where she was cleaning up.

Will watched, taking her other hand and making her laugh.

Lucas saw this, blinking at the little boy as he mimicked Lucas’ soft expression when he looked up at her. But it was more childlike and a clear imitation.

She decided to play along a little. “Why Lucas! You’ve gotten so much smaller!” she said, gasping a little as she looked down at the smaller boy, he was growing like a weed, now coming up to her hip.

He giggled, smiling brightly. “Now.” She tugged her hand out of the actual Lucas’, placing it on her hip. “Has someone put a spell on you?”

“No!” he laughed.

“No?” she asked, tapping her lower lip. “Have you just been shrunk? A potion maybe? Did you eat something weird?” she teased, squatting down a little. “Now you seem to be around my height. A blessing don’t you know. My neck hurts from always looking up at you.”

He laughed. “Ms. Maeve, I'm not Lucas! I’m Will!”

She placed her hand on her chest, gasping again. “Oh my! You were so convincing I thought it must have been Lucas!” His gapped tooth grin made her smile. He was a sweetheart when he wasn’t whining. “Now where would the real Lucas be?”

Will shrugged, but his giggles and side eye’d looks to Lucas made her smile.

“Ah. Is he over here?” she asked, looking over where Will was. Lucas was much taller with her near the ground, he’d be an imposing sight if it weren’t for the joy lighting up his eyes.

Her gaze slowly fluttered up as she met those eyes. An even brillianter blue today. And now him trying not to laugh. She got to her feet, twisting her lips as she looked at him. “Hmmm well you’re around my Lucas’ height.”

He let out a tiny snort, eyes crinkling with affection. Her cheeks warmed.

Ignoring her flushed face, she stood on her tiptoes, pretending to inspect his face. He had freckles now, his skin deeply tanned.

She wanted to count them. They were…well, the only word for it was adorable. They suited his face well. Though the tan lines from where his hair stayed matted to his face made her giggle. So uneven.

In some ways she was lucky she couldn’t tan.

“Hmmm you look like my Lucas…” she said, landing back on her heels with a small click. She crossed her arms and tilted her head, both him and Will mimicking the motion. “Oh dear now it seems I have a doppelganger,” she giggled. “Two doppelgangers!”

Lucas dropped the charade when he laughed, nose wrinkling at her antics.

“I’m afraid you can’t be my Lucas though,” she said, coming to her conclusion. “You do look an awful lot like him. But he doesn’t have freckles.”

“Can’t you make an exception just this once?” he asked with an affectionate smile. “I’m sure your Lucas wouldn’t mind. And the freckles are an easy fix! A little makeup and they’re gone!” He made a vanishing motion with his hands, Will doing the same.

He still didn’t seem to notice it, which was still amusing to her.

“Even so! I still can’t overlook one thing.”

“Oh? And what might that be?” he asked, moving closer to her. This was risky with him working today and all, but the heat might’ve just melted her brain into mush.

She rubbed her nose against his, moving away. “I’m afraid you’re much too short to be my Lucas.”

He gasped dramatically, holding his chest and stumbling into the nearest table. She laughed so hard she snorted, covering her mouth with her hands as she smiled. Watching her laugh, he shot her a grin that made her blush.

“If you can figure out a way to get a little taller…” she held her index and thumb apart a little for reference, trying to get her laughter under control. She had to fight her smile. “Then we might get somewhere.” She sighed, leaning against her table, papers scattering on the ground. Will watched the two of them, laughing. “And then maybe we can find my Lucas. Wherever he may be.”

He looked around, dragging a small crate over and standing on it. “How’s this?”

She bit her lip, smiling as she inspected it. “Hmm a bit too tall.”

He stepped off the crate and up onto his tip toes. He quirked an eyebrow and she laughed. “Perfect.”

He snorted, resting back on his heels as he leaned over to kiss her softly. “I should get back to work,” he whispered, kissing the corners of her mouth before moving away.

“I’ll miss you,” she said, wiping an imaginary tear away from her eye, making him chuckle.

He ruffled her hair. “Don’t forget me,” he joked, holding her hand gently, raising it and kissing her knuckles softly. “After work, I can make dinner.”

“Tonight?”

“If you’re free.”

“Well I’ll disappoint many men, don’t you know they just come flocking to my door!” Not quite a lie. A drunk man, like any person, could turn into a stupid person. “But I think I can fit you in,” she said with a wink. She could feel his teeth graze her skin as he laughed, letting her hand fall to her side.

“I’m honoured.”

She smiled, leaning against the table again. “It’s a date then.”

His cheeks pinked as he nodded and walked away. “Y-Yeah. A date.”

“Hopefully this one goes better!” she called after him. “Hard to get bit by an eel that far from the ocean.”

He looked over his shoulder. “Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

She giggled, waving at him sweetly. “Never. Will has evidence of his fight with the creatures around his neck now.”

He looked surprised that Will would wear the necklace. Pride soon soaked into his features and he grinned. “Too bad you didn’t get a tooth stuck in you, I would’ve made something for you too.”

She snorted, waving him off. “Get back to work, eel boy.”

He saluted, jogging away.

She turned away to pick up the papers she knocked down, smiling to herself.

Gods she loved him.

It took her a moment to realize what she had just thought. What she knew was going on.

She waited for the waves of panic, for the horror, the disgust in herself to set it. She waited for her stomach to sink to her feet and the colour to drain from her face.

But it never came.

Instead, there was a warm feeling. Buzzing, her heart racing a little, that same love struck smile never faltering.

She loved him.

The very thought startling her.

She slammed the papers down on the table, spooking Will from where he was trying to make fish hooks out of sticks.

Even startled, she did not mind.

No. She did mind! She minded about one thing.

It was too easy. She hadn’t suffered enough to get to this realization. The universe never smiled upon her for long. Something always was going to happen. Always going to go wrong. It was too easy to stay here and love him so...freely.

She froze at the prospect of telling him.

There was the catch. She couldn’t tell him. She wouldn’t.

Stacking Emmie’s papers and tucking them between the pages of a book, she gnawed on her lower lip. She feared him rejecting her. A kiss was one thing. Yes a rejected kiss would (and did) sting but…

Loving another was different. Kisses were physical, showing affection. Infatuation.

But no. She loved him.

She glanced at him, he was trying to pry a few of the smaller kids off his back, he was tending to the nets and they mistook him for a plaything. He was laughing, holding one by their shirt collar. She didn’t recognize the child, they looked around six.

Her eyes darted away, lashes brushing her cheeks.

Being in love wasn’t some...profound thing. It happened slow, it crept up on your senses, drugging you and sending you down into the murky feelings below. It could happen quickly, it could move at a slog. It could be romantic, platonic, about family. But being in love was no different than being angry at someone. Being in love could be used against you. Love was an emotion that vile people used.

Love was a chain, dragging her down into the depths of the ocean while she gasped for air, finding none.

No.

No. It was different.

Being in love with Lucas was different.

It was...innocent in a way. Like the taste of bubblegum on a hot afternoon, the smell of something sweet in the mornings.

The feeling of waking up in the arms of the person you were indescribably, unspeakably, deeply, undoubtedly, in love with.

It was all different than before. Before it was a biting cold followed by the sugary sweetness of mock warmth. Being left in the snow, shivering and alone until they wanted you again. Possessing. A chain around her throat.

But she wasn’t in love with Nicolas Bell anymore.

This was something new altogether.

It frightened and enticed her.

Lucas was odd. He was dense as he was sweet. How he interacted with her and around her was so different from what she knew of before. Skittish, but like a puppy in a way.

She pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. He was like a puppy. A kicked puppy at times.

He met her eyes again, she smiled.

She did love him.

And she was okay with that.

#the arcana #the arcana game #maeve #lucas #maeve x lucas #maevas #my writing #at this point #I am writing a book #lmfao look at me go #maeve the idiot #realizing she loves someone #ya love to see it

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manggaetteokkie · 5 years

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Wang Yibo as Lan Wangji

Okay so I’ve heard that people had a bunch of opinions about Wang Yibo as Lan Zhan and while I understood them at first, as the series progressed, I found myself less and less inclined to agree with their criticism because the boy actually nails Lan Zhan’s ability to convey his emotions through minute changes. Honestly, I could wax poetry about how he understands the character but that’ll be too long so I’m just going to showcase how perfect he is as Lan Zhan just by the looks he gives to those around him.

1. The way he looks at his brother, Lan Xichen: expression is open, slightly contrite as if he knows there’s nothing he can hide from him

2. The way he looks at the disciples: brows furrowed slightly for a sterner gaze, he’s not joking around

3. The way he glances towards Jin Ling right as he’s about to seal his mouth: like he’s merely a small disturbance, clearly shows who’s boss with that slightly haughty look

4. The way he (never) looks at Jiang Cheng: man was literally the cause of Wei Ying’s death, you can’t expect Lan Zhan to give him any good looks or acknowledgement

5. The way he looks at Jin Guangyao: acknowledgement his presence by looking at him but you can see it’s not an open expression either, Lan Zhan’s clearly got his guard up

6. The way he (barely) looks at women: he looks so bored someone get him outta there

7. Finally, the way he stares (yep he stares) at Wei Ying: just look at how mesmerized he looks, the adoration, the helplessness he feels when he comes to Wei Ying, the slight sense of wonder as if he can’t quite believe a person like Wei Ying exists, the openness of his expression that I don’t even think he realizes, the intensity behind his stare when Wei Ying’s literally too thick to understand the meaning behind his words... phew

Honestly, if it wasn’t for the 10 picture limit, I’d be posting a lot more pics but alas. Honestly, Yibo’s also only 22 years old and hasn’t been acting for that long so I understand him not being perfect; however, given how difficult Lan Zhan is as a character, I give him full marks for how he’s been approaching this character.

From the initial annoyance of Wei Ying’s mere presence, to the acknowledgement of his open and honest character, to the increasingly blurry line between friendship and love, to Lan Zhan desire to help Wei Ying and subsequent helplessness because he isn’t sure how to, to his more mature approach to Wei Ying after reuniting with him after 16 years (Lan Zhan learned his lesson from the first time around, he’s not going to repeat the same mistakes twice), you can see all of this in Yibo’s acting.

#the untamed #chen qing ling #wangxian #lan zhan #lan wangji #wei ying #wei wuxian #wang yibo #xiao zhan #jiang cheng #jiang wanyin #jin guangyao #lan xichen #my post #my stuff

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dontasktheradiodemon · 3 years

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❌ OKAY, we got distracted during the intermission—wild animal got in, don’t worry about it, hotel’s fine—but we finally got through the whole show. So, here it is, by popular request, after like FOUR MONTHS of trying to track down this show:

🎵 Alastor gives his opinion on Hamilton 🎵

❌ So I didn’t type out EVERY ONE of Alastor’s reactions, since half of them were just humming along whenever a song used a motif from an earlier song or laughing at the jokes. A lot of the songs I didn’t type anything for. Message him if you’re desperate to know how he feels about your fave. Or if you want to listen to him ramble more about one of the songs, I’m SURE he has more to say, this is just as much as he could squeeze out around, y’know, actually watching the show. But I’m not typing more for him, I’ve done my duty.

❌ He says his favorites were “Helpless,” “Wait For It,” “History Has Its Eyes on You,” “What’d I Miss,” “Room Where It Happens,” “Burn,” “Your Obedient Servant,” and “every single time Lafayette opens his mouth.”

“Alexander Hamilton”

🎶 “There’s not a lot of singing in this song, is there? It’s more like poetry.”

❌ And right after that they switched from rapping to singing, lol. He didn’t say much past that, though—he went quiet pretty quick. Trying to keep up with the lyrics probably. (I’m already missing lines. I don’t care, I’m gonna watch it again with Charlie.)

“Aaron Burr, Sir”

🎶 “Oh, that’s French!”

🎶 “Now, I could be mistaken, but I’m fairly certain that all these gentlemen were white. This is an improvement!”

“The Schuyler Sisters”

❌ He raised an imaginary glass to the first couple lines of the song. I mean he’s not wrong.

🎶 “So does the entire show consist of patter songs? Interesting.”

❌ I had to look it up, a patter song is basically a tongue-twister song with really fast lyrics. They happen in comedy operas and stuff. I think he’s talking about the rap. I think he thinks that rap is just a kind of patter song.

🎶 “I bet this played well in New York.

“Farmer Refuted”

🎶 “This is one of the songs that got recommended to me. I don’t know why. The earlier songs were much more intriguing. This one’s clever enough, but not a stand-out.

“You’ll Be Back”

❌ We got an ask about this one so I elbowed him to pay attention. I probably didn’t need to, he spent half of it laughing.

🎶 “Oh, would you... just—look at that complete lack of dancing. He’s a wax statue. Look at him.”

❌ I said “I love his lack of energy. Go king, give us nothing,” and Alastor slid off the couch laughing, so none of you are allowed to tell him I quoted a meme.

“Right Hand Man”

🎶 “I wish they’d sing more rather than just recite. And I’m not a fan of all the... synthetic beatboxing.”

❌ I think he means the hip hop beats. How does he know what beatboxing is but not hip hop?

🎶 “Oh! ‘Modern Major General’ reference!”

“Helpless”

❌ He spent most of this one sorta bopping along. I think this might be the first song he’s genuinely had fun with. The king being energyless aside.

🎶 “Do you think they have a real electric organ hidden somewhere, or is prerecorded? No, wait, I think live musicians are still legally mandatory at Broadway show, aren’t they?”

❌ I didn’t even hear the organ. Does Broadway really have a law about live music??

“Satisfied”

🎶 “All right. I’m sold.”

“Guns and Ships”

🎶 “This is another of the ones I was sent. It flows better now, hearing it after all the other songs in the same style. Good Lord, he really is fast, isn’t he!”

“Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down)”

❌ I sorta cheered at the line about immigrants and Alastor laughed at me.

🎶 “More battle scenes need to be danced.”

“Dear Theodosia”

🎶 “The war’s already over? Goodness, this show is moving fast.”

“Non-Stop”

🎶 “This is another one I was sent. I think there’s one more?”

🎶 “Too beatbox-y.”

🎶 “The turning stage is clever! That’s fine staging.”

🎶 “When I first heard this one I thought it was a bit disjointed, I suspected it was reusing themes from earlier in the show. I was right! And I was right that it was the act one finale! Do I know Broadway or do I know Broadway?”

❌ (And during intermission Alastor went to get a snack and that’s when the wild animal got in and distracted us for two hours. ... In retrospect, maybe the animal was supposed to be his snack.)

“What'd I Miss?”

🎶 “This! This is my favorite song so far!”

🎶 “And my favorite coat so far! Look at him!”

❌ Context: Jefferson is wearing a long red coat. Surprise.

🎶 “Listen to this! This is fun! This is jazzy! I even hear a walking bass in there!” (I have no idea what that means.) “Oh, I hope this fellow sticks around! Jefferson buys Louisiana, he’s got to be important to the show, right? They’ll keep him arou—Hold everything, is that Lafayette?!”

❌ I looked it up. Yep, Jefferson is the same performer as Lafayette.

🎶 “When tryouts open in Hell, I’m calling dibs on playing him.”

“Cabinet Battle #1”

🎶 “Never mind, I’m not playing him. That's not my performing style. I can’t do that.”

“Say No to This”

🎶 “Can't relate!”

“Room Where It Happens”

🎶 “This is the last song I was sent.”

🎶 “I don’t even remember this fellow from history. Do you remember him? I’d have forgotten his name by now if Hamilton didn’t keep calling him Burr, Sir.”

🎶 “This one’s fantastic when he gets into it. It still reminds me of ‘Heaven on Their Minds’—one of the good versions, the shouty ones—do you hear what I mean?”

❌ I do not hear what he means. I do not know what he’s talking about.

🎶 “There’s quite a bit going on in this one, isn’t there! Oh, you can hear Jefferson crawling all over this song. I enjoy the Hell out of his sound. All the banjo and ragtime and spirituals and jazz—old school jazz, too, the real stuff—God, this is a good one! I’ll have to listen to the whole show again to pick out the other characters’ musical motifs, Jefferson’s style is easy to pick out because—hah, well, it’s practically the same as my style, isn’t it?”

❌ He kept talking about “Room Where It Happens” halfway into the next song.

“Cabinet Battle #2”

🎶 “Hm... no. No, definitely not my performing style. It's less a patter song and more... spoken word poetry. Isn’t it?”

“Washington On Your Side”

🎶 “... But it COULD be done as a patter song, couldn't it? I could MAKE it my performing style...”

“I Know Him”

🎶 “Bless these lifeless interludes from King George."

"The Adams Administration"

🎶 “Creole WHAT?! Excuse me?! Oh, that better not be a historical quote. Did he go to Hell, is he in Hell?”

❌ If the answer is “yes,” I’m pretty sure Alastor is lowkey planning to hunt him down and spit in his face. Or eat him? IDK, hard to guess with him.

"Burn"

🎶 "This is one of the more Broadway ones, I like this."

“It's Quiet Uptown”

🎶 “Oh, this won't play well in Hell.”

“Your Obedient Servant”

🎶 “Why, when the singing is good, is the background music so annoying?”

❌ It took him like a minute to decide:

🎶 “It's the drum kit.”

❌ He says that, but he’s drumming his fingers in time to the song.

“Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story”

🎶 “They really gave Eliza the best parts, didn’t they?”

❌ Aaand that’s it, we’re done!

❌ But he’s got that “I want to keep talking and Lucifer himself couldn’t shut me up” look he gets sometimes, so uh, feel free to ask him follow-up questions and spare me from having to fend off his chatter.

#((I’ve literally been meaning to do this post for MONTHS))#((ever since a lot of y’all asked him if he’d seen it and then started chucking songs at him to try to get him to watch))#((I hope the folks that wanted to know what Alastor thinks of Hamilton are still around lmao))#music

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hyper-fixate · 4 years

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You wouldn't believe the dream I just had about you and me - Nicolo POV

First part from Yusuf’s POV here.

Chapter 2 now up on AO3.

[I’m not entirely sure how this chapter happened. It wasn’t meant to happen, I had no plans for it to happen, but here we all are. I ended up writing till 1 AM the other night, woke up, hated everything and ended up having to rewrite this. Then had an on going fight with myself to take out the lines that yes, objectively, were really awesome sounding but did not belong here! And now I’ve got about 3000 words of meta that I gotta come up with another soulmate AU to write about, I guess.

A week ago, my husband jokingly told me to write my own fanfic if I’d read everything else and I brushed it off. But I’m so glad these two burrowed into my brain because this fandom has been so welcoming and so lovely. Every person who reads, likes, reblogs or leaves kudos has made me smile ALL WEEK. And special thanks to ever single person who took the time to leave comments. I am honestly so overjoyed that anyone wants to listen to me wax on about these two adorable nerds.]

——

One of his earliest memories of the dreams were not of the dreams themselves, but rather of the talk about them with his sister, Anthonia. He could not have been much older than four. But he remembered waking to the first of the sun’s rays and he felt such a lightness in his chest. When Anthonia came to get him from his bed, he nearly felt as though he was floating.

‘You are excitable today, dear Nico.’ She smoothed down his tousled hair and pressed a kiss to his crown. He had always been a quiet, solemn child and she found the change in him that morning endearing.

‘My dreams were laughing at me Thea.’ He grinned and dutifully held his arms over his head for her to remove his nightshirt. He didn’t catch her biting her lip or glancing towards the door as she tugged it over her head. ‘And such a laugh! So big.’ He held his hands out to mime a pot belly. ‘Like when Father Manuel laughs.’ He went to show her, breathing in deeply, but she placed a hand over his lips to still him.

‘Nico. My dear. This is wonderful. This is something very special.’ She lowered her voice, with another glance at the door. ‘But we do not speak of our dreams.’

‘Why?’ He asked, with all the wide eyed innocence a child could muster.

‘Because the laugh, it belongs to the love of your life. The person who will fill the other half of your soul.’ She touched his hair again, her eyes going wistful. ‘One day, you will hear it from another’s lips and it will be as if all of God’s graces have come at once.’’

‘That sounds wonderful Thea.’ He looked at her so wide eyed. With eyes so like her mother’s. Anthonia sometimes imagined she heard the ghost of Mama’s laughter, and Papa’s too she supposes, when Nicolo turned those eyes to her. Nicolo could not hear it, but one cannot listen for a sound they never got to hear.

‘Yes, my dear one. It is.’ She cupped his face in her hands and rubbed her nose against his. ‘And I am glad it brings you such joy. But here, now, it is not to be discussed. Not in this house, do you understand? Rafael and the twins know this too. We do not talk about the dreams. Especially not to father. Not ever.’ Nicolo nodded, but he didn’t understand. Not really. Not yet.

‘The person who laughs is to make us happy?’ He asked and she nodded. 'Then why?’

'Sometimes this world can be a harsh and unjust place, Nicolo.’ Her hand strayed to a chain on her neck; the locket that held a plait of their mother’s hair. ‘It’s by God’s grace we have our happiness but others may not. And it may be a kindness to them, to keep our happiness here.’ She gently placed her palm on his heart. 'There is so much in this world that is beyond our knowing Nico, so much that is for God alone. But we can choose what we do. And we should always choose to be kind.’

So Nicolo kept his secret. A bright, wondrous secret, that felt so warm in his young heart. And every night he heard the laughter in his dreams and awoke with a smile on his lips.

Nicolo was only six when he began to understand God’s plans did not always match his own. It could be argued the unfortunate coupling of Nicolo’s birth and his mother’s death was a clear sign God and Nicolo’s plans had never properly aligned, but that blasphemous thought did not occur to him until later. Anthonia came rushing home from the beach, her cheeks ruddy and wind chapped. She brimmed with so much energy he felt dazed by the proximity. He felt the warmth in her smile and in her eyes and it hit him as a dizzying blow. His father’s house, like its master, still mourned and this joy felt so out of place here.

She had met a man, Giacomo, and she had made him laugh.

They married in the spring and Anthonia was beautiful, like an angel from scripture. She took Nicolo’s face in her hands and bent down to rub her nose against his. There were glittering tears in her eyes but they did not spill, even as Nicolo’s were rushing down his cheeks. She kissed him goodbye. She promised to return, but he knew that it would never be the same.

Nicolo did not have the heart for much laughter then.

It was Nicolo’s tenth birthday when divine intervention plagued him once again. Anthonia had promised to come, with his nieces, and Nicolo could barely contain his glee. A strange energy seemed to fill the house and everyone felt it. The twins, always a handful, felt whipped into mania and decided to steal the cake from the cook. With great whoops and hollers, they raced through the halls, tossing it between them. Nicolo ran deliriously alongside. As the twins turned a corner, they decided to include Nicolo in the fun. Shrieking, he dove blindly for his prize.

Only to run directly into their father, Offredo, and priest, Father Manuel. Nicolo ended up on the floor. The cake ended up in Manuel’s hair and Offredo’s coat.

Nicolo could not help himself. He laughed. A loud noise that almost seemed to crack the very air in the house.

The two cake-covered men shared a look that instantly cut the laugh from Nicolo’s lungs. Within two months, Offredo di Genova oversaw his youngest child take his vows.

Nicolo found even less reasons for laughter then.

He answered Pope Urban II’s call to retake the Holy Land because he felt called to do God’s will. This, he reasoned, was where he and God could agree. Which would finally, hopefully, be enough to earn his rightful place in the kingdom of heaven. Nicolo never considered that heaven might spit him back out.

When he awoke after his first death, clutching at his stomach, pulling apart his tunic to check for the gaping wound he can reflexively still feel, the one stupidly clear thought he managed to knock together was this: Must I always be born from death?

And then a rather familiar, bloodied blade cut into his vision and everything went dark again.

God, it turned out, didn’t even have the decency to send Nicolo back alone. He spat back out his enemy as well. Nicolo, in his admittedly limited earthly experience, had looked at the events before him and assumed the two events to be linked. So Nicolo killed the Muslim again. And again. And again. Until, woozy from the stench of their combined blood, he looked up to an outstretched hand instead of a blade and, without really understanding why, he took it.

Learning Yusuf spoke Greek was a pleasant surprise, though, admittedly, Nicolo had not used it for many years. The speed at which Yusuf picked up zeneize was also a pleasant enough happenstance, and Nicolo told himself he was not in any way jealous. But the language that Yusuf spoke refused to lie still on Nicolo’s tongue. It slipped and flowed like poetry out of Yusuf’s mouth and seemed to tumble out of Nicolo’s, heavy as mud.

But then everything about his companion was poetic, his mind unhelpfully supplied in the long march through the desert. The darker man’s movements with his sword or on a horse were always measured. The soft words that he whispered as he prayed five times a day soothed something in Nicolo’s worried soul. The easy way Yusuf made friends in the villages they passed. The endless patience in which he repeated any word Nicolo asked.

How that first night, after they had come to the agreement not to murder one another in their sleep, Nicolo had woken to find Yusuf’s cloak draped over his shivering frame while his companion had begun his morning prayers.

But we can choose what we do. And we should always choose to be kind, Anthonia had said, during a life he no longer recognised. Sometimes, when Nicolo looked at the endlessly kind Yusuf, all he could see was the blood he’d drawn from him. And he was ashamed.

This blood was so familiar to him. He imagined he could tell the difference of it’s hot spill across his face, his side, to the bandit’s blood from only moments before. His mind was racing, his body no longer under his command as one hand pressed desperately to Yusuf’s chest and the other gripped the arrow he had just pulled from Yusuf’s throat.

‘Please wake up, my friend. Please Yusuf.’ He saw his hand moving, touching Yusuf’s neck, his cheek, the rough curve of his beard. He did not remember telling his hand to move. ‘You cannot leave me here alone.’

Yusuf awoke with a violent gasp. Nicolo felt his own heart thump widely. His breath seemed to rush from him, leaving him dizzy. ‘What happened?’ Yusuf asked, his voice rough from pain, but strong. Nicolo sat back on his feet. He had been on his knees, bending over Yusuf as if in prayer. He could not remember the last time he had prayed.

‘Bandits.’ Nicolo willed his voice to be even, but he didn’t think he managed it. He indicated towards the bodies he knew would be there, but didn’t look. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Yusuf. ‘They shot you with an arrow.’ He held up the arrow, still clutching it so hard he thought it might snap. ‘You did not wake up. Not until I pulled out the arrow. I had thought-’ He was babbling now. A sharp pain in his chest cut him off. Nicolo had a sudden vision of himself sitting there, bowed in prayer, as the night passed and the sun rose. Waiting for a breath that would not come. ‘I was wondering if your stubborn refusal to die was just at my hand.’

Nicolo had not meant to say that out loud. He had not meant for the fear he had felt to force itself from his lips. But the way Yusuf looked at him now, the softening of the other man’s eyes, made him feel naked as a babe.

‘Are you well?’ Yusuf reached out, as if to touch him. Nicolo felt the tension in every inch of his skin. Would he know that touch, as he knew the other man’s blood? ‘Did they hurt you?’ Yusuf asked softly, pulling his hand back.

‘This is mostly yours.’ Nicolo said, still feeling the sticky heat across his skin. ‘It sprouted out of you like a fountain when I pulled this out.’ He threw the arrow from his hands then, unable to bear the weight of it any longer. He rubbed a hand across his cheek and felt the smear of blood. He grimaced ‘How bad is it?’

‘For you? It’s an improvement.’ Yusuf said in absolutely perfect zeneize, completely seriously. The adrenaline and fear shimmered out of Nicolo’s blood. He felt almost drunk with relief and he couldn’t help himself.

He laughed.

The next moments were so sudden, so unexpected, Nicolo’s brain took almost a full thirty seconds to catch up to the reality of what was happening. Yusuf was in his lap. Nicolo was painfully trapped with his arse half on his feet and half his pack. Yusuf’s hands bracketed his face. His mind spun. His hands grasped instinctively for a weapon that he knew was out of reach. He wondered if Yusuf would rub his nose to Nicolo’s as Anthonia used to do. He unhelpfully acknowledged that he did know the feeling of Yusuf’s skin just as intimately as his blood. And then he wondered why he was thinking about that at this exact moment.

Yusuf was shushing him, softly, gently. He pressed Nicolo’s hair away from his face with trembling fingers and stared into his eyes as if he could divine Nicolo’s very thoughts. Nicolo wished to blink. Looking at Yusuf’s eyes like this was as if staring into the endless night sky.

‘What are you doing?’ Nicolo wanted to moan at the dismal way the Arabic toppled from his tongue. His mind was writing poetry and his mouth refused to bring the words to fruition. He huffed out a small laugh at his own absurdity.

And with that small sound, Yusuf seemed to find what he was looking for. He smiled and Nicolo re-evaluated his previous reflection. Having the full enormity of Yusuf al-Kaysani’s smile turned upon you, that was as if being blinded by the sun.

Yusuf threw his head back and laughed.

Nicolo’s entire mind seemed to narrow to one point. One bright, flashing moment of understanding. Energy sizzled in his veins and for a moment he felt as he had done at first death, trapped between two worlds. The one that had been, and the one that would be.

‘Mio Dio.’ Nicolo gasped. Yusuf laughed again.

And Nicolo finally knew, in that moment, what it meant to be born from joy, not death.

Prologue (kinda)

‘After my first death, when I did not dream of any laughter for those many months. I worried my death meant my soul was no longer bound to the same man.’ Nicky says slowly, sipping his coffee

‘Ha, as if you could get rid of me, hayati.’ Joe leans back in his chair and nudges Nicky with his foot.

‘I would never have tried.’ Nicky replies easily. ‘I used to rush to bed after Compline so I could get to sleep, just to hear your laugh. It was the best part of my day.’ Nicky reaches across the table, offering his hand palm up. Joe takes it.

‘Okay, come on Nile.’ Andy screws the lid back onto her liquor and shrugs into her jacket. ‘We’re off.’

‘Why?’ Nile asks, standing up as Andy pulls her t-shirt and moves her towards the door. Behind her, she hears the sound of a chair scraping across the floor and a low voice.

‘And now, tesoro? Is being in bed still your favourite part of the day?’

Nile speeds up and practically throws herself out the door as Andy laughs.

#joe x nicky #the old guard #nicolo di genova #yusuf al-kaysani #kaysanova #immortal husbands #my fanfic #soulmate au #I just love them #okay?#togpositivity #beans writes fanfic

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ka-za-ri · 4 years

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Demon Brothers and Mid-Autumn Festival

Happy early 中秋節 !This spawned from me crying over pretty mooncake packaging. And then I fell into a hole of matching the boys to boxes and this Mildy AU stuff happened. Uh... so I know this isn’t the only way to celebrate Mid-Autumn Festival, but it’s mostly based on my experiences and nostalgia. So excuse the super self-indulgence and have fun~ I tried to include links to things that might need some more explaining.

It’s my first time writing headcanons so pls be gentle on me .･ﾟﾟ･(／ω＼)･ﾟﾟ･.

Lucifer

“Mid-autumn festival? I may have heard of this before in passing.”

“What is this? A Jewelry box?”

Don’t tell him how long you went looking for the perfect packaging and flavor.

Doesn’t celebrate the whole week, but will at least sit down with you for a night to share mooncakes

Prefers them without the yolk, but he’s not going to complain if they’re there.

Neatly cuts the mooncake into quarters and has to have it with tea

Likes the wintermelon filled kind the best. The chewy texture goes better with tea.

He’ll make an exception for black sesame lotus paste though

Unfortunately too busy to do any sort of moon viewing with you since he’s swamped with paperwork.

At least he’ll share mooncake and tea with you while he does it

Keeps the box and actually uses it as a lamp from time to time

You find out he’s using the tins to store wax seals and stamps too

He doesn’t have time for it, but appreciates the small bottle of osmanthus wine you leave at his door at the end of the festival.

Finds you a month later on the next full moon to sit down and drink it with you. Offer him a Laopo Bing or leftover mooncake to go with it as a snack. (Of course there’s leftover mooncake)

You share tea and cakes while sitting on a pavilion overlooking a lake. The moon’s reflected on the surface. Lotus flowers are blooming and the sounds of cicadas are in the distance. Wispy clouds float past the full moon but don’t really hinder its brightness.

He brushes a stray strand of hair out of the way before maybe sneaking in a kiss or two. He’s much more entranced by how you look lit by the moon and not the moon itself.

Mammon

Got gifted a box of them from a designer as a gift after a photoshoot

You may or may not ogle at how pretty the packaging is. He teases you and taunts you with it. Of course they would only gift something so majestic to The Great Mammon.

Doesn’t bother cutting into them, just eats them like a cookie

Until he gets to the yolk

“The heck is this? Who puts salted egg yolks into a sweet thing?”

Looks up how much the mooncake box from a designer might sell for.

So many gifted mooncakes

But he doesn’t eat any, unless you show interest in them.

You find chocolate flavored ones among all the boxes

Still doesn’t cut the mooncake up, but at least there’s enough to share. He’s less traumatized now that he’s had one that doesn’t have yolks in it.

Spends the rest of the night sampling all of the weird ‘haute couture’ flavors of the year.

The strangest one is the truffle and ham flavored one.

He nearly spits that one in your face

Both of you are rushing to the kitchen to find something to wash away that taste.

Thankfully there’s the bottle of Osmanthus wine you’ve saved for this occasion

He takes a giant gulp and nearly gags at how strong it is.

Now you have a partially tipsy Mammon on your hands.

Take him out on a long moonlit walk to get him sober.

The air is crisp, the moon is bright, the leaves are just starting to turn color. There’s just a hint of dampness in the air but it’s refreshing. He takes your hand as you’re walking to make sure you don’t wander off.

Ends the night kissing your forehead and thanking you for sharing so many memories with him this year.

Doesn’t try to keep any of the boxes and tries to sell them all off if he can unless you find one that catches your fancy, then he’ll just give that one to you.

Leviathan

“Oh my gosh, it’s the Super Rare Limited Edition Ruri-Chan as Chang’e mooncake box?!?!?!?!?!?!”

He doesn’t care what the flavor is. It’s Ruri-chan

Takes more care of the box than he does the actual mooncake.

Prefers the small custard filled/lava ones

They’re easier for snacking while he’s prepping for a raid.

Raids don’t stop for holidays. Gaming must continue

Invites you to join him one night and gifts you the limited equipment from the current Mid-Autumn festival event in game.

“It’ll look cuter on your character than mine.” Don’t question him on how long it took him to farm that gear.

You end up playing games with him all night long and forget to watch the moon.

Instead, the two of you decide to just watch the sun rise while snacking on the last of the cakes.

Tea is in order, those things got really sweet really fast.

The two of you are so loopy from staying up all night, you giggle at the dumbest things as you’re trying to sneak into the kitchen to get something to drink.

“How long did you wait in line for that box?”

Don’t tell him you just pre-ordered it like a normal person would. “Oh, maybe a few hours.”

“Well, I guess I owe you a few hours of time as a thank you.”

You nearly forget that tea’s done and almost wake up the house from the whistling kettle. Worth it for all the kisses you got in between that time though.

Satan

“Oh yes, of course I’m familiar with the festival. I’ve read all about it.”

He’s rather fascinated with how ornate the packaging can get for some sweets. “What’s so special about them?”

Red bean paste with the yolk

Cuts the mooncake into six

Lets you eat on the bed as long as you make sure you don’t get crumbs anywhere.

His room literally has the best view of the moon. It’s mandatory that you watch it from there.

Lets you gaze at the moon from his bed while he reads.

Until you interrupt him and start reciting Li Bai’s Quiet Night Thought. Mostly it’s to yourself out of homesickness

Moonlight before my bed/ Perhaps frost on the ground/ Lift my head and see the moon/ Lower my head and I miss my home.

And then you start reciting “Drinking Alone Under The Moon”

You really start drinking and living the drunken poet life.

“You know, you’re not alone though.”

He finally puts the book aside and joins you to watch the moon and listen to you recite poetry for hours on end.

Asks you about Chang’e and listens as you drunkenly ramble off her story all the while nibbling on pieces of mooncake. He offers you the occasional piece so you’re not drinking so much on an empty stomach.

Keeps the box and the tins but has no idea what to put in them so they end up gathering dust in the room until one day he needs something to put spell components in and he remembers it exists.

Spends the week watching the moon and listening to you recite poetry or tell fairy stories.

Often falls asleep in your lap, a half eaten piece of mooncake in hand.

Invites you over for moonviewings even after the festival.

Asmodeus

He can't tell if he should be more impressed by the packaging or by the cake designs.

Snowskin mooncakes become his favorite

Rose and lychee flavors are preferred

He adores how pretty crystal mooncakes are as well

Absolutely no yolks please

Refuses to watch the moon with you. Staying up late will ruin his skin care routine

He will day drink the osmanthus wine you’ve save to go with the mooncakes while you watch operas

It sounds weird to him at first, but the makeup and the costumes draw him in.

Cries at the end of Farewell My Concubine

You end up spending hours telling him about the Four Beauties and China’s Four Most Handsome Men

He’s upset that all of the stories end in tragedy

You try to cheer him up by going to a local festival and watch the lanterns and other festivities

Gets super invested in lantern making and spends hours learning how to make one to hang up in his room.

While he’s gone, go buy him some Tanghulu Not only can he appreciate the bright red hawthorns, but they’re a delicious snack on the go while you let him explore the whole festival.

The two of you spend hours looking at cute packaging for mooncakes and buying them back for the others. He’s happiest with the one you gifted him though.

Okay, maybe he can stay up late to look at the moon just this once.

Take a small picnic to a grassy hill somewhere so you can admire the moon in its full glory. Most of the snacks are rice cakes and fruit and of course more moonakes. (Seriously, there’s so much mooncake)

He knows he’s supposed to be watching the moon, but he finds it easier and better to watch you instead. You’re just as ethereal as Chang’e in the silvery light of the night.

Definitely keeps the mooncake box and uses it to hold parts of his makeup collection. It fits right into his room decor.

Beelzebub

You get him the biggest box with the most variety that you can find so he can try as many flavors as possible.

He ends up liking the kind that tastes like Gai Zhai Beng (Sorry, I don’t know what this is in English?) with all the nuts the most since they’re the heartiest.

Actually, he likes all of the more savory ones

If it’s sweet, it should have yolks. Four of them if they have those, if not, he’ll settle with the Cantonese style with two yolks.

You take him to the festivals so he can try even more flavors

The best part is that you get to try them as well. He offers you at least a bite before downing the rest of the mooncake.

Do the two of you go around eating everything until you feel like you’re about to burst? Absolutely.

If you can’t see anything that’s going on during the performances at the festival, he’ll lift you onto his shoulder to get a better view.

With how much time you spend at the festival and how much you’ve eaten, you don’t know if you can stay up late to watch the moon like you want to.

He lets you piggyback on the walk home

The sound of a pipa song from the festival echoes in your brain and you hum the song while half asleep on the way home. He gets it stuck in his head for the next month and a half.

Worth it though, it means he’s reminded of the great time he had with you and all the food he got to try.

Now he’s constantly asking you if you can make him mooncakes.

Literally forgets the box and tins exist until he’s cleaning out his room for hidden snacks months later.

Almost forgot about the osmanthus wine you gifted him as well. He hits you up on the next full moon to drink it while eating snacks and you get to tell him about all the legends behind the foods he’s eaten.

“Next time, I’ll make you Crossing the Bridge Noodles.”

“What’s the story behind that?”

“I’ll tell you when I make them.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Of course.”

Belphegor

Thinks a fairy must have visited him in his dreams when he rolls over and finds the box of mooncakes next to his pillow

Sleeps all day so he can watch the moon all night with you.

Expect tons of cuddles while doing that

Find out when he’s halfway through eating the box that he prefers tang yuan over mooncakes

He covets the box you gave him regardless

Maybe you make the tang yuan with a little extra ginger to spite him

Too bad for you, he prefers it that way.

Convinces you that the gardens is the best place for moon viewing

He’s right since there’s an osmanthus tree there and it smells absolutely amazing this time of the year.

His favorite dessert is pretty much impossible to transport, so he’ll have to deal with what you brought.

Ends up quite liking sachima but not jin dui

Beel drank the last of your celebratory osmanthus wine, it’s time to break out the baijiu

It takes only a few sip of this to have you both tipsy and slurring superlatives at the moon.

“She’s just so beautiful. Look at her. So radiant and glowing and just the most magnificent isn’t she?”

“I can’t tell if you’re describing the moon or if you’re describing yourself.”

“The moon. Of course. She’s so beautiful that poems are written about her for thousands of years.”

“I could do that for you too you know…”

The two of you end up falling asleep in the garden under the tree. By the time you two wake up, you’re both covered in the tiny fragrant blossoms

Take some back with you to make cakes and maybe some more wine to remind you of the lovely night you had.

#Obey me!#Obey me Headcanons #Obey me HCs #Might do the undatables later #this took way more time than I expected #I just really want soft moon viewing times with them okay?#just soft things ; ;#pls let this do well #I know maybe all of 2 people would relate to this #Don't let my hours of staring at boxes go to waste pls #a lot of this was written at like 3AM #It likely doesn't make sense #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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rinnnyxr · 3 years

Text

I’m happy I’m sad I’m motivated I’m unmotivated I’m sick I’m taken I have a crush I’m in love I’m single I’m brokenhearted

I want to sleep I want to study I want to go out I want to stay home I have school today I have work today

I’m afraid of spiders I’m afraid of being alone I’m afraid of snakes I’m afraid of flying I’m afraid of failure I’m afraid of clowns

I took chemistry classes in high school I took math classes in high school I took English classes in high school I took geography classes in high school I took biology classes in high school I had gym in high school I took art classes in high school I took science classes in high school I took history classes in high school I took physics classes in high school I was in the theatre after school program in high school I had some sort of music classes in high school I had some sort of dance classes in high school

Bold the things you’ve never done.

I’ve never gone to Disney World. I’ve never been out of my home country. I’ve never kissed a stranger on the lips. I’ve never read a book over eight hundred pages. I’ve never painted a picture on a canvas. I’ve never sang in front of a large crowd by myself.

I’ve never had braces. I’ve never learned French. I’ve never had a fight with my dad. I’ve never updated my status through my phone. I’ve never used Nair. I’ve never cut my wrists. I’ve never wanted plastic surgery. I’ve never drank organic regular milk. I’ve never learned Chinese. I’ve never blew up a balloon. I’ve never changed a baby’s diaper. I’ve never lost my phone for good. I’ve never lost a friend through death. I’ve never met one of my grandparents. I’ve never met someone with my exact name. I’ve never dated someone with red hair. I’ve never put on eyeliner for myself. I’ve never took a dance class. I’ve never tried weed. I’ve never tried drugs. I’ve never cooked dinner for my family. I’ve never had anything besides my ears pierced. I’ve never had a tattoo. I’ve never went to the beach to tan. I’ve never kissed anyone on the lips that was younger than me. I’ve never dumped someone. I’ve never stepped in something nasty barefooted. I’ve never cheated on someone. I’ve never waxed anything on my body. I’ve never dyed my whole head a different color. I’ve never kissed anyone who was above the age of seventeen. I’ve never kissed in the rain. I’ve never gone a day without laughing. I’ve never got held back a grade. I’ve never stolen anything over twenty dollars.

Aries

Waiting until the last minute TL;DR (too long, didn’t read) Angry crying 4 am seamless Big flirt Hot yoga “Why are you so upset? I’m over it now” No filter Cutting in line at the store Skipping to the “good part” Ignoring the speed limit Tinder Shoplifting Exclamation points!!! Bad tattoos Caffeine addiction Toned AF Muay Thai “Don’t touch me” Breaking a bone Spelling errors Picking fights for no reason Lowkey really sensitive Skipping breakfast 7/24

Taurus Falling asleep on the subway Going barefoot Using hands as utensils Calling in sick Materialism Tree climbing Cuddling Controlling the aux Great British baking show “I deserve to treat myself” Aesthetics Spending the whole day in bed Anything that says “natural” on it Long-term relationships Expensive sheets Picnics in the park Essential oils Sex as exercise Tender Wearing the same outfit 3 days in a row Says a controversial opinion and then “I’m not going to argue” Calm, cool, and collected Silk everything 5 meals a day 7/24

Gemini Giving unqualified advice 50 different tangents “Prove it” Playing Devil’s advocate Can’t keep a secret Scamming Carrying a book around Arguing for fun Always knowing the latest gossip Adderall Spilling guts to the Uber driver Rationalizing emotions Lying to be more interesting Most active in the group chat Anxiety Telling the same story 10 times to perfect it Philosophy 1000 ideas per minute Sardonic sense of humor Full of interesting facts 23 best friends Internet memes Forgot how to cry Living a double life 4/24

Cancer Screenshots Same friends since high school Sleeps with a stuffed animal Vintage clothes Cries when yelled at Going home early Nesting Holding grudges Mood swings Drinking tea Supporting others’ chaos Social anxiety HGTV Super protective of loved ones Accidental emotional manipulation Cooking for friends Likes animals more than humans Meeting someone and immediately planning their whole lives together Empathizing with film protagonists Vivid childhood memories “Mi casa es tu casa” Serial monogamist Good emotional memory Big hugs 8/24

Leo Mid-day outfit changes Giving out compliments Taking an hour to get ready Accidentally flirting Making friends in the Uber pool Using a window as a mirror Passionate emotional outbursts Lowkey insecure Creating drama to avoid boredom Opening up after just meeting someone Going to the spa Needing to make opinions known Large but fragile ego Wanting recognition for your generosity Making a scene Pretending life is reality TV Giving really subjective advice Overdressed for the function Creative genius Social media as therapy Trying something and being instantly good at it Can’t take a joke Self-care Urge to stand out 7/24

Virgo Over-analyzing friendships Fact check Knowing a little about everything Helping people get their shit together Very specific tastes Fixing it or making it 10x worse Personal projects Health routines Pretending to have your shit together Repeating a task over and over until it’s perfect On good terms with your trash exes Stretching self too thin Stuck in negative thought cycles Noticing little things no one else notices Needs to quit like 3 things Nitpicking Self-sacrificing Hyperfocus Reading 3 books at once “Sorry for the late reply” Functioning on 3 hours of sleep Can’t turn brain off Neurotic Putting yourself last 17/24

Libra Fomo (fear of missing out) Saying yes to every opportunity A little bit of suck up Fear of being alone Flirting with everyone but your crush Tossing a coin to make big decisions Easily influenced Art films Strong sense of right and wrong Torn between being social and having much needed alone time New crush every day Going to museums Overthinking romantic relationships Truly admiring all your friends Adopting others’ hobbies and mannerisms Overdraft fees Showing up late or not showing up at all Avoiding conflicts at all costs Talking about past romances on the first date Gossipy but with good intentions Panicking when someone raises their voice Trying to see both sides Unable to end a bad relationship Pretending to hate drama 9/24

Scorpio Resting bitch face Keeping the right amount of secrets Has a “hit” list (either meaning) Needing to have control in relationships Knowing what you want and exactly how to get it Disappearing at parties Morbid thoughts Believes in “energy” Attractive Staring from across the room Stalking crush’s social media Fascination with cults Still in an emo phase Breaking hearts but sad about it Trust issues All black Existential angst Silently walking away from uninteresting conversations Chaotic emotions behind a calm mask Craving emotional intensity “What am I gonna gain from it?” Seeming intimidating, actually really sensitive Friendships of utility Loves crime 12/24

Sagittarius Losing interest and quitting anything that doesn’t come easily Giving opinions without being asked No inside voice Arguing as foreplay Backpacking trips Talking over people Stating opinions as facts Corny jokes Took one philosophy class and is basically Nietzsche now Always having the last word Using big words to sound smart Speaking more than one language Fueled by laughter Calling friends on their BS Asking for advice and then not taking it Needing to change activities every 30 minutes Telling it like it is Correcting people Unwaveringly optimistic Laugh can be heard from across the room Talking about a book after only reading the Wikipedia synopsis Learning a lot from travel Periodically getting rid of all your belongings Pulling out a party trick 9/24

Capricorn Fear of not living up to potential Overcommitting Anything ‘rustic’ Favorite song is the NPR jingle Has real, tangible goals Repressing trauma Always on time Slow and steady Minding your own business Prefers on one hangs to group hangs Work/life balance Putting more money into savings than you take out Acting 20 years older than you actually are Is prepared for the worst-case scenario Never asking for help Reading for fun Is actually normcore Taking care of business Taking things seriously Motivated by stress Minimalism Hanging out with the same 3 people Bashful around crush Holding friends to high standards 9/24

Aquarius Lowkey superstitious Obscure music David Lynch Weird makeup Self-given haircuts Bad at flirting Feeling like an alien Reding conspiracy theories on the internet Estranged from emotions Experimental poetry Martyr complex Being called a free spirit Abstract concepts Making plans and canceling them Intellectual superiority A little arrogant Loves an underdog Using a thesaurus Activism Fuck the rules Intentionally provocative Highly ethical Queer theory Niche knowledge base 1/24

Pisces Head in the clouds Misplacing keys Unofficially moving in with friends Easily overwhelmed Empathizing with plants Existential crisis #3 Really long showers Leaving clothes in a pile on the ground Using fantasies as an escape Romantic drama Need for constant validation Acts either 7 or 70 Incredibly active imagination Cripplingly self-aware Over-apologizing In love with 10 people at once Binge drinking Giving good advice but can’t apply it to yourself Secretly writes poetry Crying in the bathroom at work Can’t take criticism Mind reading #NoBoundaries Saying something deep out of nowhere 12/24

I am most like a Virgo (my actual sign)

You have an ex You don’t wear glasses You have blue/gray/green eyes

You’re pretty tall

You can drive a manual transmission car

You know how to change the oil

You know all about cars

You have a serious passion for photography

You’ve known your best friend since middle school You’re close friends with someone since elementary school You prefer Quiznos over Subway

You’re in a relationship You’ve had a rebound before You’ve been in a relationship for five years

You’ve cheated before

You’ve dated someone who was Asian You’ve dated someone who was Hispanic

You’ve dated someone of your own ethnicity You like to sleep a lot You were born in winter Your birthday is in February

You’re the oldest in your family

You have a younger sister You have a cat You don’t have step-parents You often work the night shifts at your job

You can play the drums

You know a lot about flowers

You’re allergic to shellfish

You like garlic You like a lot of cheese

You get real Christmas trees

You’ve been in a car accident before You’ve snuck people over to your house You’re part Hawaiian

You’re a Pisces

You have no tattoos You have no piercings You have brown hair You have a Steam account You don’t have a Twitter

You’re hardly on any networking sites

You have an XBox360 You don’t like Playstation products very much

You have relatives in Alaska and/or Hawaii

You have a Toshiba laptop

You love German Shepherds You love Welsh Corgis You are Republican

You are Methodist

Your room is rarely ever clean

You’ve drunk dialed someone

A nasty rumor has been spread about you You’re in college One of your parents was at one point enlisted in the military

You are close with your family You like paintballing

You don’t smoke You don’t do drugs

You have a habit of keeping things you borrowed longer than expected

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tricktster · 5 years

Text

Honestly, I cannot say enough about my german study abroad program, in no small part because the people i met through it were the wildest bunch i have ever met. We had:

Me, a cursed American stumbling through increasingly unlikely and unfortunate situations, including:

getting arrested and hauled off in a cop car for the serious crime of not transcribing the five digit number printed on the back of my bus ticket onto the front of my bus ticket

slipping on dog poop on a crowded street while running late for class (leading a number of tourists to run over and photograph me in my undignified heap on the cobblestones) only to suffer one final indignity when i had to leave my poop shoe out in the hall outside the classroom, and subsequently discovered after class that it had been (correctly) identified as garbage by the custodian, and had been disposed of

spending the entire month of November with essentially no money after a bank error caused me to be cut off from my US checking account, thereby forcing me to figure out how to survive by my wits alone in a series of schemes, cons, and 1€ sausages

burning my thumb so badly on an oven in an attempt to make the world’s worst stuffing for the world’s saddest expat thanksgiving that my friends all had an intervention where they gave me a single black glove to wear because it was grossing them all out.

Enough about me. There were also my closest friends:

L , a horrendously wealthy New Englander who would drop lines in her stories like “so we were all smoking opium in my parents library,” and, “so every time my room gets too dirty, i just move to the next one down until the whole wing is filthy.” In spite of everything I’ve just said, she was also a genuinely good and incredibly fearless person who would throw fists without hesitation if she thought anyone was insulting her friends. She had a weird sexual relationship with her obscenely wealthy family friend in Frankfurt, which the rest of us suspected maybe been part of a business deal that their parents arranged at birth. It was better than Game of Thrones, honestly.

Y, a four foot tall Puerto Rican that I met when we were both walking down the street kind of near each other and some wild impulse called me to say to her, without so much as an introduction, “Yeah, you walk pretty cool, but if you wanna walk REAL cool, you gotta do it like thissssss,” while kinda lunging around. Just as inexplicably, she chose to continue talking to me, and several months later the two of us ended up making a harrowing 2:00 am escape from the private bar of a frat house that we had suddenly noticed had an awful lot of Nazi memorabilia on the walls for a frat located in a country that had criminalized the display of Nazi symbols. “Why are you leaving?” The frat-nazis complained as we bolted. “You will come back tomorrow afternoon for the barbecue, ja?” “Ahahhahaha nein fucking way, motherfucker,” Y muttered under her breath as we smiled and nodded politely all the way out the private garden, through the enormous iron gates, and out into the night. Once we were in the clear, we stared at each other, shaken, until Y broke the silence. “Welp. Those guys were Nazis. That actually just happened. I can’t.... man, I dunno, i’m still processing, let’s just go get some fucking falafel.”

We did.

S, the Australian, who one time invited me over to her apartment, opened the fridge, grabbed a plate of cheese, shoved it under my nose while going “HERE SMELL THIS!” and while i lurched away, gagging, cheerfully added “IT’S REALLY FOUL, RIGHT? ONE OF THE WOST THINGS I’VE EVER SMELLED!!” She was also absolutely obsessed with High School Musical, and was very disappointed every time the Americans shattered one of her illusions about the US public school system.

K, the girl from New Zealand, who had broken up with her serious boyfriend shortly before leaving for Germany, causing her to mourn his loss every time she got drunk by describing his penis with increasingly strange metaphors, such as “like a big wax candle but part of it’s gone,” and “like one leg off a spider.”

So, i had a pretty solid crew of five big weirdos. But there were, naturally, more people than the five of us in our program. For example:

R, from Minnesota, who dressed like she was about 72 and glared at anyone who was laughing too loudly near her because “i just don’t think jokes are funny.” More importantly, she would post facebook videos of herself reciting, entirely sincerely and in a steady monotone, the worst fucking poems that I have ever heard. She posted them under a pen name that was along the same lines as “the lyrical falcon.” She was in a feud with not one but two poetry clubs at her christian college, and while she never admitted this, all evidence suggested that it was because they both kicked her out. She was the Tommy Wisseau of poems. They were so bad they looped back around to good. Also, one time on the train she told me that she liked to think that she was a very good kisser because she played the french horn so she had strong mouth muscles. when i finally recovered from the mortal blow that she just delivered my soul, I asked her if she blew into people when she kissed them, and she got so insulted that she blocked me from her facebook poetry page. let me back in, R. please, if you’re reading this, let me back in.

They’re good poems, R.

Zoolander, from Pennsylvania, who was so, so handsome, but so, so, so dumb. One time he told me about this dream he had, and it was just an entire episode of Dexter’s lab. No changes or anything, he just... dreamed that he was watching that episode, and then the whole thing played in his head until it was done. He said it was the best dream he’d ever had. I once watched him pick up the same coin off the street four times because he couldn’t figure out that his pocket had a hole in it. When he noticed me, he said excitedly “Somebody left money everywhere!”

Juan, who constantly confused all the kids from Spain who went up to talk to him in their native tongue, only to discover that he was a very sarcastic man from Liverpool who didn’t speak a word of Spanish and was sick of everyone trying to bond with him. He only liked the Americans, because that’s where the tv show Family Guy was from, and only the Americans liked him, because we tend to like surly british assholes for basically no reason. At the end of the program while we were all saying our goodbyes, he came up to me, looking really upset. “I can’t believe it,” He said, uncharacteristically serious. “I can’t believe it’s all over and i’ll never...” He looked like he was about to cry.

“Oh, dude, we can keep in touch on facebook or something?” I fumbled. He blinked.

“What? No, no, ugh, it’s just the last day of the program and I’ve LOST MY FOOKIN SCARF!” he roared.

God, I know this is weird, but I still really miss that guy.

The Croatian: There was a dude from Croatia in my apartment building who outright refused to tell me his name, because, “It’s an embarrassing word in English. You’d laugh.” I badgered him for five months, until finally, his defenses down, after many earnest promises that no matter what his name was, I would not laugh, he relented.

“My name is Tin.” He said sheepishly.

His name was fucking Tin.

Beardy, Beardo, Redbeard, and Weirdbeard: four drastically different young men from all across our beautiful planet who had one thing in common: thinking that they’d try out a beard while they were abroad. We always admired them from a distance, and compared their beards’ various unique and bad properties, until one day Beardy (who was australian and had developed a sort of flesh colored goatee) walked up to S, his countryman, in a club. “DO YOU WANT TO DANCE?” he yelled, trying to get her attention, but she was in a dance-off with K, and didn’t notice, so he tapped her shoulder. She whirled around, startled, and upon recognizing him, said without thinking, “OH, HI BEARDY!”

The song faded out.

Beardy stared at S.

“...Did you just call me ‘Beardy?’” he asked quietly. S looked like a deer in the headlights. She glanced towards me, hoping for an out, but I, dear reader, was laughing too hard to be of any use.

“You did,” he went on, “you called me ‘Beardy!’ Why!?”

“Cuz of your beard, probably. That’s a better name for you than Josh.” Zoolander interjected from out of nowhere, strolling out of the club, a beautiful woman on each arm.

“My name isn’t Josh...” Beardy tried to call after him.

“Who’s name isn’t Josh? Oh! Beardy!” A drunk K could be heard deducing from the back of the room.

He shaved it a week later, but the damage was done. He was Beardy for the rest of the semester.

When I look back on that period of my life now, I can’t help but reflect - with the clarity one only gets from experience - that my time in Germany was not as weird as I thought it was at the time. I lacked the perspective to see that it was all, actually, absolutely bonkers batshit nuts. It was some sitcom shit.

All in all, I highly recommend it.

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