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gumnut-logic · 6 months

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A Date with Monique

Okay, I'm blaming this squarely on @onereyofstarlight, @katblu42 and @gaviiadastra .

Have a little roadside assistance. Younger Earth and Sky and a lot of frustration for at least one of them :D

Hope it makes some kind of sense as I wrote most of it, ironically, on the side of a road :D It is possibly ridiculous.

-o-o-o-

“Aren’t you rich or something?”

Scott looked up at his date and mentally lowered the number on her scorecard for the night. “Yeah, so?”

She waved a hand in a random direction. “Can’t you call in a helicopter or something? I’m getting burrs in my stockings.”

That had him peering down the length of her long legs to the heels at their end. The legs were very nice indeed, even in the twilight darkness. But she was right. The grasses on the roadside verge had decided that she could transport their seeds quite well.

He wasn’t going to mention the bug on her shoe.

“No, we don’t do that.”

“Why not?” There was a whine to her voice that hadn’t been there before. Perhaps their unfortunate circumstances were a catalyst to revelations of her true nature.

“Help is on the way. He won’t be long.”

She slapped at her arm. “Ew, mosquito!”

Scott was leaning against his motorcycle. His motorcycle that was no longer motoring due to a busted spark plug. He had no spare, so that had necessitated a phone call.

That phone call was going to cost him because Virgil had been ranting at Scott for several weeks now that his bike needed a service.

He’d been busy.

Okay, he had forgotten.

And tonight was pleasantly unexpected. Well, it was pleasant until the bike stopped doing what he needed it to do.

“Who won’t be long? Did you call your father? I’d like to meet the famous Jeff Tracy.”

Oh, I bet you would. Her scorecard was dropping by the minute. Mentioning Jeff Tracy and his billions wasn’t the best way to get into favour with his eldest son. There were many opportunists out there…to use kind terms…apparently Grandma had at least a twenty-mile radius of influence when it came to language, even unspoken.

“Dad isn’t home.”

“Oh.” That deflated her.

Wonder what she will think of Virgil’s truck.

As if magicked into existence by the thought, a familiar rumble ramped up beyond the crest down the road. Moments later his brother’s old truck ambled over the top, its yellow headlamps lighting up the country road his bike had decided to die on.

“Here he is.”

“Thank god.”

Scott arched an eyebrow and wondered if his date would think the same once she was onboard.

Virgil’s truck was a workhorse. He kept her fully functional, but she did the hard yards for Virgil’s engineering and repair projects. The truck used to be Grandpa’s and, considering its age, was probably his grandfather’s before him.

Virgil adored her. But she was old and she showed it.

The truck creaked to a stop just in front of Scott’s bike, Virgil throwing open the driver’s side door and climbing out.

It was getting dark, but Scott didn’t need to see his brother’s face to know what expression was on it.

He cut him off before he could say a thing. “I know you told me, Virg.” He held up his hands. “I’m sorry.”

His brother snorted. “Live and learn.” He held up a spark plug. “This should do the trick.

Of course, being Virgil, he had brought his tool kit and sufficient lighting. A soft elbow to Scott’s arm and he was crouching down, pulling the guts out of Scott’s bike.

“Are you able to take me home in your truck?”

Both brothers looked up at his date.

Virgil answered first. “I guess I can, if you really want to.”

“It’s part of the service, isn’t it? Roadside assistance?”

“Um…”

“He’s my brother, Monique.”

“Your brother? Which one?” Yeah, there you go. She was showing much more interest in Virgil now.

Virgil, being Virgil, either that or just simply getting revenge on Scott for interrupting his piano practise, unfolded his legs and stood up, holding out a hand. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m Virgil Tracy.”

Scott bit the inside of his cheek as Monique took his brother’s hand and clasped it in both of hers. “Thank you so much for coming to our rescue.”

“Not the first time, ma’am, unlikely to be the last.”

Okay, his brother was dead for that line, no matter how true.

As Virgil extricated his hand from her clasp, Scott wondered if Monique would appreciate the grease his brother had probably shared with her.

Virgil was notorious for sporting a variety of grotty substances. And besides, his hands had been in the guts of his bike, for goodness’ sake.

Monique was making a point of leaning over said bike, despite her white dress, looking down at Virgil, and displaying her ample feminine attributes.

An hour ago, Scott had been admiring said attributes over dinner, all blonde curls, red lips, and alluring figure, but now he was no longer interested.

As for Virgil, his brother was clueless as usual, likely finding more interest in bike bits than the bits almost hanging in his face…oh, c’mon, now she was getting ridiculous.

Scott stepped around to her side. “Thank you for a lovely meal tonight, Monique. Apologies for the breakdown.”

She waved a hand in Scott’s direction. “It happens.” She didn’t even bother to look at him. “Virgil, dear, have you fixed the problem?”

Scott rolled his eyes.

Virgil was frowning at the bike’s engine, predictably oblivious. “Scott, when was the last time you had her serviced?”

Scott blinked away the non-sequitur. “Last May.”

“Where?”

“On base.”

Virgil grunted. “I’ll do it next time.” He stood up and chucked a tool into his kit. “You’re both riding with me tonight.”

“It’s not just the spark plug?”

“It’s not just the spark plug. I’ll overhaul her tomorrow. Tonight, it’s you me and Monique.”

Did she really have to suddenly look so eager?

Scott sighed and waved a hand. “Monique, meet Virgil Tracy and his truck…named Monique. Looks like she’s our ride tonight.”

“Oh.”

“Your name is Monique?” Virgil really could do the innocent and clueless so well sometimes.

Scott grabbed him by a shoulder and wrapped his arm around his brother. “Yes, little bro, I had a date with Monique tonight.”

That set Virgil grinning.

Oh yes, Scott was going to pay for this one. Possibly forever.

Monique, the one with two legs rather than four wheels, darted around Scott’s bike and looped her arm in one of Virgil’s. “Thank you again for saving us. Can you drive me home tonight?”

Unbelievable.

“Not a problem, Monique.”

Now he wasn’t sure which to strangle first.

“I’ll just load Scott’s bike into the back and we can get you home safe.” And yes, his little brother grabbed Scott’s motorcycle, rolled it over, and lifted it - by himself, with zero effort - into the back of his truck.

For a moment there he seriously thought Monique was going to swoon.

The thing was, Scott could call his brother an ass, but it was likely that Virgil had zero clue about the effect of his actions. He was known to lug stuff around the farm all the time, and this was probably just another case of getting the job done.

Virgil wandered back to them, wiping his dirty hands on an equally dirty rag. He looked up at Scott and frowned. “What?”

“Get in the car.”

“Truck.”

“Whatever.”

Of course, Monique made sure she was in the middle and virtually threw herself at his brother as they drove between the dark fields back to her apartment in town.

Scott might as well not have been there.

Probably just as well. Her motives were now clearly obvious and he had no interest in pursuing her further.

His main concern now was ungluing her from his lug of a brother. As they pulled up out the front of her block, Virgil was talking about the family history of his truck and how it had been handed down from Tracy to Tracy.

Monique was suspiciously interested. Earlier in the night she had claimed to hate listening to men talk about their cars. Scott had been glad he had his bike.

Apparently, it depended on which Tracy brother she was talking to.

What had he seen in her anyway?

“So, um, can I see you tomorrow?” She was practically pawing Virgil’s shirt.

“Um…”

Hmm, maybe his brother wasn’t as clueless as he appeared.

Scott interrupted. “I’m sorry, Monique, Virgil has to fly out for treatment tomorrow.”

“What?!”

Hmm, their voices did make an interesting harmony.

“Treatment?” Really? Now she was going to pull the ‘poor boy, I’ll look after you’ thing? So many doe eyes up at his brother.

“Okay, that’s it.” Scott shoved his door open and climbed out, attempting to urge her out after him. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience of the breakdown, Monique, but I need to get Virgil home.”

“What?” Well, he was going to pay for this forever, might as well make it worth it. Virgil was frowning up at him almost enough to break an eyebrow.

“Oh, okay.” She even managed to look put out. “I hope to see you soon, Virgil.”

“Uh, yeah.” Virgil’s hands actually squirmed on the steering wheel.

“Oh, I nearly forgot.” She fussed around in her purse. “I don’t have a pen, so I guess this will have to do.”

And the woman wrote her phone number in lipstick on Virgil’s forearm.

His brother seemed to be frozen.

To top it off, she then re-did her lips with a smile.

Scott hoped she was enjoying the engine grease that…no doubt…was the lipstick’s new flavour.

Finally, little miss Marilyn Monroe slipped out of the car and strode past Scott with a bounce in her step. She waved at Virgil over one shoulder with a smile before disappearing down the path to her apartment.

Both Tracy brothers just stared for a moment.

Scott was wondering what her reaction would be when she finally looked in the mirror. Even in the shadows of the street lamps he could see that her white dress was now streaked in anything but.

Might be a good time to make an exit.

He slid back into the truck beside Virgil who was staring at his lipstick vandalised arm.

“She’s interesting.”

“Not your type.” Not in a million years was she getting anywhere near his brother.

“So she’s yours then?” And yes, his brother was grinning fit to split something.

He glared at Virgil. “Just drive.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #nuttyfic #a certain amount of the ridiculous :D

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dreamy625 · 2 months

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Overture and beginners - chapter 3

< Chapter 2

Words: 2435

Content: Nothing I can think of, this one’s pretty wholesome

-----------------------------

As they’d parted so hastily with no opportunity to exchange numbers, Steve had to wait until Monday for the chance to see Katie again. He volunteered for every errand around the factory, making a detour each time to pass the administration department in the hopes of spotting her. Finally, on the fourth trip, he almost walked into her, coming out of Packing with a sheaf of dockets in her hand.

Her face broke into a delighted grin. “What are you doing here?”

“Collecting this…” He held up the tool he was carrying. “Whatever it is, from Stores.”

“On the other side of the building?”

“Er, I got lost?”

She raised one eyebrow. “Uh huh.”

Steve slid his eyes away from hers and cleared his throat. “Anyway, since I’ve bumped into you, quite by chance, I wondered if… well if… you’d like to come to the pictures with me?”

“Hmm…” She pretended to consider for a moment (as if she could possibly say no to those hopeful eyes). “Yes please.”

He beamed back at her. “Sunday? Only I’ve got band practice most nights.”

“Sunday’s good.”

“Maybe seven? I can come pick you up? Actually, best not, if your dad’s likely to be home. Meet at the bus stop on Worrall Road?”

“It’s a date.”

“Cool.” The ear-to-ear grin rather belied his casual tone.

He looked like he didn’t know quite what to do next, so Katie took pity on him. “Shouldn’t you be getting the whatever-it-is back to the workshop? Before they send out a search party?”

He looked at the object he’d forgotten he was holding, “Oh yeah. See you later then.” He ambled up the corridor and, with a final wave over his shoulder, disappeared round the corner.

On his return to the machine shop he was informed by Simon, who worked the lathe next to his, that the foreman wanted to see him in the office and was, he added with a spiteful grin, ‘hopping mad’. Steve’s happiness of a few moments ago evaporated as he made the seemingly interminable walk across the workshop and knocked apprehensively on the door.

“Ah yes, Mr Clark.”

He smiled a smile that to Steve’s eye looked very much like a hungry shark.

“Y-you wanted to see me Mr Rafferty? Sir.”

“Mr Clark, you were late three times last week, you mixed up the metric and imperial die sets, your hair is too long, and your overalls are a disgrace.”

Steve glanced down, wondering how you were supposed to work in a machine shop without getting covered in oil - surely that was the point of the overalls?

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, boy.”

“Sorry sir.”

“Without a significant improvement in both attitude and application, the chances of you successfully completing your apprenticeship are slim. Very slim. You need to buck your ideas up, young man.”

Steve, who was pretty much counting on becoming an internationally famous millionaire rockstar within the next eighteen months primarily so he didn’t have to finish his apprenticeship, just nodded, and then added ‘Yessir’ when that didn’t seem to be sufficient.

“And on the topic of your delinquent ways.” Mr Rafferty drew himself up to his full height, which was in fact slightly shorter than Steve, but he was about twice as wide as the slender younger man and seemed to loom over him as he leaned intimidatingly close. “What are your intentions towards my daughter?”

“I… er… nothing… You have a daughter? I… um… barely know her…” he stammered in a panic.

“DON’T lie to me, boy. I saw you with her last Friday.”

“Oh… right… Friday… that daughter…” Mr Rafferty’s face had turned an alarming shade of purple by this point and Steve sought desperately to placate him. “Lovely girl, a credit to you, sir.”

“That she is. The apple of my and her mother’s eye. She has a promising future ahead of her and I won’t allow anything that could derail that. So I ask you again, your intentions towards my Katherine?”

His voice had dropped lower and quieter, but that didn’t make it sound any less dangerous. Steve’s petrified brain tried to think of something that sounded as innocent and honourable as possible. “I just… I just want to get to know her better,” was the best he could manage.

“Get to know her better?”

Steve nodded uncertainly.

“If you lay a finger on that girl…” This was delivered at a roar and Steve reflexively leaned back. “I will not be responsible for my actions!”

Already almost nose to nose, he took another step forwards, and Steve took a step back. Reverting to the hushed tone, the older man almost growled, “I can make your life a misery and I will not hesitate. Do you understand?”

He stepped forward again and Steve backed up again. In this manner he almost pushed him out of the room, adding a few more threats for good measure before slamming the door a mere inch from Steve’s toes.

-----------------------------

At the cinema, their options were Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Ice Castles, and something set during the Vietnam War, which they both instantly dismissed as depressing. Steve was steeling himself for two hours of romance and melodrama on ice when Katie piped up, “Don’t judge me, but I really like sci fi films. Can we see that one?”

“Of course, whatever you’d like.” (He would have sat through the ice skating one, for her, but he was rather glad not to have to.)

The cinema was only about half full and they chose seats near the back without too many other patrons nearby so they could talk through the trailers without being shushed.

“You can hold my hand if you get scared,” Steve offered.

“That’s very sweet of you, but whose hand are you going to hold when you get scared?”

“I’ll close my eyes.”

“Ohh, but that’s when the monsters get you,” she warned, before lunging at his neck with her teeth - fangs - bared!

He backed away in pretend terror, but actually the thought of her nibbling his neck was strangely appealing…

As it turned out, the hand-holding started almost as soon as the lights went out, questing fingers finding each other in the darkness and coming to rest on Steve’s thigh. There weren’t a lot of jump-scares in the film, though they did both jerk and tighten their grip when a supposedly inert alien body suddenly opened its eyes. Then there was one scene which wasn’t frightening as such, but was pretty disgusting, with the slimy, half-formed pod people hatching, that made Steve, who did not have a strong stomach, hide his face against her shoulder. He then basically just stayed there, his head on her shoulder, and they watched the remainder of the film as cuddled up as they could be with an armrest between them, only pulling reluctantly apart when the lights came up at the end of the credits.

“So… do you need to get back or…?”

Katie looked at her watch. “I’ve got a while longer before anyone starts worrying about me. What do you want to do? Pub maybe?”

“I think I’m hungry, are you hungry?”

“Actually, starving! I was too nervous to eat much tea.” She rolled her eyes at the needless jitters that had led her to stir lamb stew and dumplings round and round on her plate until it turned to mush.

“Me too, my mam was livid,” confessed Steve.

“The Wimpy’ll still be open, we could go there?”

Seated in the restaurant, Steve ordered a cheeseburger and Katie opted for egg and chips, but was less decisive when it came to a drink.

“I want a strawberry milkshake, but I can never drink a whole one; they’re too cold and it makes my head hurt.”

The waitress shifted from one foot to the other impatiently. “Why don’t I bring you two straws and you can share?” she offered.

When their order arrived, Steve was momentarily distracted from his burger by watching the cute shape Katie’s lips made as she sucked on the straw.

“Mm, icy but delicious. You have to have some too, save me from the brain freeze!”

He waited for her to push the glass over, but instead she put the straw back in her mouth and raised her eyebrows in invitation.

“Oh, Lady and the Tramp style.” He leaned over the table and angled his head to reach the other straw. After a few sips, he dropped the straw to remark, “You are very pretty, you know.”

“I am? How can you tell from this distance, I must be all blurry?”

Steve leaned back. “Yep, still pretty.”

“Thank you.” She lowered her eyes demurely, a pleased little smile turning up one corner of her mouth.

Steve put the cheeseburger back down and licked a splotch of ketchup from his thumb. He looked thoughtful. “Will you go out with me again?” he asked, a trace of uncertainty audible in his voice.

“Yes please,” she responded with no hesitation.

“Will you go out with me again, after that?”

“Probably. As long as you don’t take me to the opera or something!”

“No opera. And how about again after that?”

Katie laughed, “Why do I have to answer that now?”

“Because I want to get to something, and it’s too soon, but I can’t wait.”

Her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out what he was working up to. “Go on,” she said, a little guardedly.

“Would you…” He wished belatedly that he’d picked a more romantic location for this. Not that he’d actually planned it at all. More that, once he thought of it, he couldn’t wait another week to ask it. “Would you be my girlfriend?”

The wary look softened into a fond smile. “Stephen Clark. You are very odd. But I like you. Sooo, yes.”

His face cracked into that glorious half-moon grin that had been so irresistible to begin with and, unable to celebrate the new relationship with an embrace because there was a table in the way, she settled for reaching across and squeezing his hand.

“So now we’re official, I want to know all your terrible secrets!”

“Well I have tons of those. What d’you want to know?”

“Umm, what’s your middle name?”

“Maynard. Stupid name. What’s yours?”

“Meredith. After my grandmother. Second question - what’s hidden under your bed?”

“A guitar. It’s not hidden, there’s just nowhere else to put it.”

“Boring! Okay, here’s a personal one - is that your real hair?”

“Are you suggesting it’s a wig?” he asked with mock affront.

“Nooo, at least I hope not. But I don’t remember it being curly at school?”

“Alright, I confess, it’s a perm. My gran did it.”

“Ah ha! I thought so. It’s cute though, you look like Peter Frampton.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Definitely, he’s gorgeous! Ooh, that’s a good one - who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Frida from Abba. And I had a bit of a thing for Sophia Loren when I was a kid.”

“You and every man alive I think!” laughed Katie. “And on a similar topic,” she ate the chip from the end of her fork and held it under his chin like a microphone, “first girlfriend?”

“Really?” he said with pleading eyes.

“Enquiring minds need to know.” She waved the fork again in a more threatening manner.

Steve arranged and rearranged the ketchup and mustard packets on the tabletop. “It’s not a very exciting story, I'm afraid. First real girlfriend was not long after I started at GEC, Rebecca. I met her at the college where I was doing my training course on day release; she was doing catering. We went out for the rest of that year, but then she went on to proper catering school in Leeds. We wrote, and I got the train up there once or twice but… I guess it just fizzled out.”

“Aw, that’s sad.”

“A little bit, at the time, I suppose. But I’d started with the band by then, so I was focused on that, and she’d made other friends, so it wasn’t a big dramatic breakup or anything. The only one since then was Jenny, who’s Colin’s - he’s at GEC too, a year ahead of me - sister. That was just a casual thing. We just,” he looked slightly embarrassed at the revelation, “snogged at a couple of parties. But she met someone much more interesting than me, with a motorbike, and that was the end of that. Huh, pretty pathetic really.”

“No, you’ve proved you’re not undateable at least!” she laughed.

“Okay, I’ve showed you mine, you show me yours.”

“Ah, also not much to tell. I had a boyfriend at school, but I don’t think that really counts. He went to Myers Grove and we just used to see each other at choir competitions and hold hands in the interval over orange squash and digestive biscuits. Then there were a couple of blokes I went on dates with that didn’t go anywhere. Then most recently there was Gary, who I was seeing for about a month and a half. But he was kind of dull. So I dumped him when I met someone else I liked and hoped might ask me out.” Seeing Steve’s questioning expression she clarified, “You, silly!”

“Ohh.” He grinned down at the remains of his chips.

-----------------------------

Wending their way slowly to the bus stop, arms wrapped around each other’s waists, they tried to work out when they could next see each other.

“I’m on the swing shift next week,” explained Steve, “which mucks up everything.”

“Ugh, shift work is horrible. I’m so glad we just do regular office hours.”

“Swing is the worst. I mean, it’s easier for sleeping than the night shift, but at least with nights I can go to practice beforehand. Or on dates with pretty girls.”

He swung round, abruptly stopping their progress under a streetlamp. He held Katie’s face in his hands and kissed her until with a giggle she extracted herself. “We’ve got to gooo, we’ll miss the bus.”

“There’ll be another one,” he argued, but reluctantly he started to walk again, taking her hand in his.

“I’d love to see you rehearse one day. And meet the rest of the band.”

“Ah, no girlfriends allowed at practice. Joe’s rule; he says they’re too distracting.” In response to Katie’s moue of disappointment he offers, “You could come and see the rehearsal room another time though? It’s a bit manky, but we’ve got furniture and a heater and a kettle.”

“Mmm, what girl could resist that tempting offer?”

Chapter 4 >

#steve clark #steve clark fanfic #steve clark fanfiction #def leppard fanfic #def leppard fanfiction #overture and beginners fic

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toppedbykakuna · 4 months

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Hi! Just writing to let you know that radical feminism isn’t “pure hatred”, and that the vast majority of women who support it don’t care half as much about people identifying as trans as they do care about protecting marginalized women worldwide (whose issues are fundamentally unable to transcend their biological sex in the way alternative feminism dictates). You said in the tags of a recent post that you’ve spent “so many years trying to understand” radical feminism, which is confusing, because it’s a relatively straightforward approach to feminism. No radfem is ever going to dictate how someone should or shouldn’t dress or behave. The single defining feature is just that radfems argue that how someone dresses and behaves should not be conflated with biological sex or be indicative of a societal gender norm. The entire concept is that boys can wear dresses and girls can wear pants and they are still male and female. Radical feminism strives for the elimination of gender and gender roles!

Genuinely hope you have a good day :) you don’t need to reply to this, I won’t see it anyway, but you really don’t have to prove anything to anyone either. Your beliefs should be yours, not something you feel the need to repeatedly reaffirm to an online public to stay socially acceptable.

Peace:)

Hey anon, thanks for the polite message, I do appreciate it. I'm gonna use this ask to share my perspective a bit more, and while you definitely don't have to continue this conversation if you don't want, if you have any further thoughts I'm happy to hear them!!

Essay below about my history with the phrase and community of "radfems/terfs"

I do acknowledge that in my original post I used the term "radfem" in that tag where I meant to use the term "terf", however in the past 10ish years I've found that the people who use these terms to describe their identity haven't given me any reason to differentiate the two terms.

When I joined Tumblr in 2013, I had already been involved with the queer community for a year, learning about the different corners of the community and our history. At that point, I had accidentally stumbled across the small "radfem" community that had started leaning into the "terf" category of identification on Tumblr specifically.

I remember this movement was relatively small but in any post I saw celebrating trans-ness or gender, there would be somebody with a "radfem" tag in their username trying DESPERATELY to shut down the joy. Comments filled with "you can't change your gender!" type beat, y'know? At the time, I figured it would die out and I moved on.

Suddenly a few years later, I'm on Twitter and I see a particularly famous children's author involving herself in the community I had forgotten about years before, liking posts about whatever the current drama was about and getting herself involved with the whole "you can't change your gender!" type beat, and whaddya know, it BLOWS up.

Now, let's take a few steps back. I'm somebody that struggled with fitting into same sex groups for my entire life. My childhood sport was same sex, my gym classes, the bathrooms, all the things that people don't really think too much about. For me, it came with a body rocking form of anxiety about things like my body being witnessed, the possibility of getting made fun of (which happened if I wasn't keeping an eye out), trying to fit into conversations that I wasn't really interested in because it's what people my sex and my age were talking about, I was getting denied opportunities from my parents because I was interested in activities that weren't typically for my assigned gender.

Funnily enough, I came across some old posts of mine from 2014, 3 years before I came out, that are absolutely mourning my assigned sex and begging to be anything other than my assigned sex. I didn't want my assigned sex to be perceived, I wanted my gender to stop controlling my life. Once I realized that being nonbinary (or agender, as I prefer) was an option and I could partially transition in order to become more androgynous, it has made my life MILES better. I have never thrived so happily in my body without my reproductive organs and a minor level of HRT, and I would encourage anyone looking for androgyny to discuss HRT options with their doctor because it seriously changed my life.

NOW, let's come back to how that's relevant to "radical feminism". In the last 10 years that I've acknowledged that phrase, I have never met a person who uses that phrase with the intention of including transgender people. I would genuinely like to know if anyone knows any people who identify as a "radical feminist" with the intention of including transgender people, cuz they're not doing a very good job of making themselves visible right now.

I live in a country that already has 3 different regions currently attempting to remove transgender people from the vocabulary of anyone under the age of 18, something that I would've THRIVED with the knowledge of as a teenager. If I knew that puberty blockers were an option, I would've avoided 8 years of incredible intestinal pain, dysphoria, depression and more. That's my choice.

I'm of the same opinion that anyone should be able to wear whatever they want and present however they want, along with identifying however they want. If a boy wants to wear a dress then that's so good for him, but if it's an 18 year old trans boy who wants to wear a dress, he is still valid as a man, whereas I've seen typical terfs argue that a trans man wearing a dress means he wants to stay a girl, therefore should just identify as a girl.

If we're genuinely talking about a group of people who identify as "radical feminists" and don't have a single opinion about transgender people I would like to know who they are, because from my perspective "rad fems" are the exact same group of people as TERFs.

To wrap this all up, my fiance is a transgender man. He was actually a huge influence to help me come out myself and better my life, and I'll forever be thankful for his kindness and education. My best friends are all trans or genderless, my sibling is nonbinary, the 3 different women I would run away with if they asked me to are transgender women... ahem

I love transgender people. I love people who play with their own genetics and put themselves through years of medical stress to be the best versions of themselves. Transgender people have been the kindest community I've ever interacted with, the most selfless group of individuals, the most in tune with their own minds and bodies and the world around them. I love their resilience and their strength in a world that wants them to desist, and I will always be on the side of transgender people.

This blog is not censored for appeal, nor will I ever post anything to satisfy any form of masses. This blog is my own beliefs, and my beliefs are that trans people are (pardon my pun) rad as fuck.

#lexis ESSAYS #my GOD #lexis thoughts #not dnp #lgbtq+#lgbtqia #queer #if u couldn't tell this is one of my passions #i will talk about how much i love trans people until i die #trans rights are human rights

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violettelueur · 3 years

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— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE THREE || GIRL OF STEEL

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + gojo satoru from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : swearing and EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 10 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 5.7k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : for myself

↳ next episode : curse womb must die

↳ barista’s notes : i am back again with another episode of jujutsu kaisen everyone ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ this will be the last update for now since i want to get some of your requests done due to my pushing them back to get the first three episodes done! i hope you enjoy this cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen) and come again ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter

3. this whole thing might be confusing and please don’t expect a part four soon because i will do it when i am ready or feel like i can at the right time ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ

4. i don’t know, if i am going to add this onto my masterlist since this was just for fun to be honest!

Taken back to his discovery, you turned back to look at Gojo will a deadpan expression leading him to then carefully suggest, “Since you are part of the lost L/N clan, I won’t tell the higher-ups about your existence but rather have you twist your name slightly when you enrol, how does that sound?”

Glancing at the teacher with suspicion, you tried to hide the gut-wrenching feeling that there was not a possible chance of you now escaping from this. You had been caught and found and there was no way to lie yourself out of this situation you were in, not when Gojo had discovered who you really were while Fushiguro seemed to look clueless on what was going on between his teacher and the female sorcerer in front of him.

Letting out a sigh of frustration once again, you looked up at the sky, letting the same moonlight bathe your face as it did for Sukuna a few minutes ago.

“What a drag”

ꕥ

‘What the hell did I get myself into you?’

While sipping on the straw of your orange juice carton, you were currently leaning against a railing in the city of Toyko within the Harajuku district in front of a train station, where you were supposed to meet with the new student that had enrolled in the school.

Between you were both Itadori, who was eating an ice lolly while sitting on the same railing, and Fushiguro, who was just standing while facing towards you both, as they were waiting for the same person as well as a special someone who was supposed to be here with the three of you.

“How are there only three first-years? Isn’t that too few?” Itadori curiously asked as he turned to Fushiguro for the answer to his understandable questions, since he was in shock that a year group could be so small for a large school like Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.

“Well, have you ever met anyone who can see curses before?” Fushiguro questioned, as he was trying to make his new classmate get the answer he was looking for.

“Hm, expect for L/N, who hid it from everyone, nope,” Itadori than answered, leading Fushiguro look at you for a second, only to discover you still continuing to drink the orange juice that you had bought earlier while looking at the entrance of the station in a daze, it was like you were ignoring the two of them.

“That just proves how small a minority jujutsu sorcerers are,” Fushiguro explained before reminding Itadori about a really important piece of information that the vessel seemed to have forgotten. “Remember, that L/N is now Gojo Y/N, since Gojo-sensei changed her name for privacy reasons,” Fushiguro stated, leading to your classmate to look at you with a more surprised look.

“Why are you now referred to as Gojo rather than your last name?” Itadori queried as he leaned forward to get a better look at you. This reminder of your changed name led to your eyes to squint in annoyance as you steadily but furiously began to scrunch your carton since your situation, in your opinion, had gone from bad to worse.

“Ah….I’m not really sure, to be honest,” you answered with a lie, as you moved the plastic straw away from your lips as you then stirred the box around like it was a glass of wine.

‘Ugh….Gojo...’

ꕥ

“Stareeeeeeeeeeee”

Looking down at the document sheet that was handed to you, you were taken by sudden surprise at the name section that was on the top left of the sheet, as there was a subtle change made from what you could recall from your birth name.

“Gojo Y/N…” you muttered under your breath leading to your teacher to clap his hands in delight before presenting you with his classic cheeky smile.

“Ah~ you are now my adoptive daughter~” Gojo cheerfully confessed, leading you to pause for a second before looking back up at the special-grade sorcerer with widened eyes - like a deer caught in headlights - once you processed the information in your head.

“How is everyone going to believe that is true? There is no way, people will believe that if they see the documents were signed yesterday or today,” you argued, trying to convince him that the excuse he gave to hide your identity was ridiculous. However, before you could even get a second word in, you unexpectedly felt a finger being pressed lightly onto your lips as if to tell you to hush yourself.

“Don’t worry, I manipulated the documents to say that I had adopted you five years ago, so your secret is safe with me and the principle, none of the higher-ups knows and none of the other students as well except for Yuji and Megumi,” Gojo informed you with a smirk, as if telling you that you had been proven wrong. Sighing in frustration, you finally gave up with the argument and handed the sheet back to Gojo as you began to fully take in where you were right now.

It was such a quick process. The day your schoolmate Itadori Yuji became the vessel of the King of Curses, was the same day that both Fushiguro and Gojo took you to Jujutsu Tech to attend and become a student at their school. In your mind, you were still supposed to be back home in Sendai. Back home in the empty house that used to be shared with your mother. Back home where you were away from the city life and peacefully in the countryside away from the hustling capital while blending into the crowd as if you were just a normal student with a normal life.

If you hadn’t come back to school that night.

If you hadn’t noticed the curse back at the rugby field.

If you hadn’t even looked out that window, to begin with.

All this wouldn’t have happened.

None of it.

You still would have been hidden like you were supposed to be.

“Oh! L/N, you’re staying here as well?”

Snapping out of your daze, you quickly turned back around to find the source of the voice that called out for you, only to discover both Itadori and Fushiguro walking towards you leading you to then slowly close your dorm door before greeting them with a small wave.

“Ah, ah, it’s now Gojo Y/N boys, make sure to not say her last time,” Gojo quickly stated, causing both of the boys to look at their teacher with such bewilderment before turning their head towards you as if you were going to explain to them what was the reasoning behind this sudden change.

To be honest, there was no point in your opinion. Itadori had no idea or clue on who the three families were in the jujutsu world and it was such effort to explain to him the reasons why these families were so famous and as for Fushiguro, he could probably discover that on his own so, once again, there was no point on giving them an answer.

“Well, it’s all good!” Gojo suddenly stated, as he once again clapped his hands together with a gleeful expression displayed on his face leading you to look to the side with an annoyed glance, as you didn’t need nor want the happy-go-lucky enthusiasm after discovering you were now ‘part’ of the Gojo clan as someone’s adoptive daughter. “Most importantly, we’re heading out tomorrow, we’re gonna go pick up the fourth first-year!” Gojo declared to the three of you causing a total of three pairs of eyes to look at him as you, Itadori and Fushiguro began to process the information.

‘Another one huh?’

ꕥ

“By the way, didn’t you say I was the third and L/N was the fourth?” Itadori questioned, as he suddenly remembered that you and him unexpectedly enrolled in the sorcerer school leading him to wonder how long has it been since the ‘second’ student had been enrolled and why they were only just arriving now.

“Their entry was decided a while ago, you know what our school’s like, everyone has unique circumstances and remember it’s Gojo, not L/N,” Fushiguro answered while trying to remind Itadori of your new name, leading him to place his hand on the back of his neck before informing you and Fushiguro that he was just used to calling you by your original last name.

“It’s fine, just call me Gojo when we are around other people excluding Gojo-sensei, okay?” you reassured Itadori, causing the cheerful boy to nod at you, informing you that he understood your statement.

“Sorry for the wait!” Gojo shouted at you three as he was walking towards you before noticing a change of look between his two new students. “Your uniforms made it in time, I see,” Gojo uttered as he peered at both you and Itadori before giving an approving nod as if he was a fashion designer looking at his models before hitting the runway.

From what Gojo has stated, Itadori was wearing the classic blue uniform with the noticeable two pins sewed onto the left side to indicate that he was a sorcerer at jujutsu tech with a red hoodie that added a hint of colour compared to his counterpart Fushiguro, who had a high neck. On the other hand, you were sporting a short jacket with a white dress shirt underneath while wearing a long skirt that had a slit on the side to give your legs some room, revealing the thigh-high black socks you were wearing to cover some of the skin from the gentle winds that were coming while your katana was resting in a bag as you were carrying it on your left shoulder to conceal your weapon from the other citizens around.

“Yeah, it’s a perfect fit,” Itadori said while showing his teacher the thumbs up before suddenly commenting, “though it’s slightly different from Fushiguro’s, it has a hood for one,” as he started to point the differences between his uniform to his new classmate’s to which caused you and the mentioned sorcerer to look at him while he tugged on his red hoodie.

“That’s because the uniforms can be customised upon request,” Gojo mentioned, leading you to discover and finally understand why your uniform looked completely different to the one another student was wearing, all you remembered about her was that she had greenish hair while wearing a pair of glasses.

‘So, he was the one that put the request in huh?’

“But I never put in any requests,” Itadori commented, as he was confused on why there was an alteration to his uniform without his knowledge.

“I was the one who put on the custom order, as well as my daughter new uniform~” Gojo said with a smile as he playfully decided to pull on your cheek leading you to smack his hand away, resulting in him pouting while rubbing the back on his hand like your smack had caused him some pain.

“Whatever, I guess,” Itadori remarked, as he looked down onto his hoodie.

“Be careful, Gojo-sensei has a tendency to do things like that,” Fushiguro warned both you and itadori before looking back to the mentioned sorcerer with a question in mind. “Most importantly, why are we meeting up in Harajuku?” Fushiguro curiously asked since it was a bit strange to him that a student didn’t just arrive at the school like all three of you did.

“Because it’s what she asked for,” Gojo answered before Itadori randomly noticed a popcorn stand before declaring that he wanted some to enjoy leading you to walk behind him to make sure he didn’t get lost within the city that was crowded with the ongoing shopper as well as tourists that decided to take a break away from their work or lives to experience a new setting.

“Oh hello there, are you on the clock right now?” someone randomly asked, causing you to turn back only to discover what seemed to be a businessman with a green suit paired with a unique purple tie decorated with teal polka dots.

“Sort of but not really,” you uninterestingly answered, giving the man a bored expression leading his nervousness to increase further due to the anxiety of talking to a random stranger in the middle of the streets of Tokyo.

“You see, I’m looking for potential models, this is who I am,” the man explained as he processed to pull out his business card to which you didn’t give a day of time to look down at. “Would you be interested?” the businessman processed to question before you lifted an open palm while giving the man a polite smile.

“Sorry, I’m not really interested in modelling at all but thank you for the opportunity,” you politely declined as you noticed the deflated look the worker had given you. However, before the modelling scout could apologise and thank you for your time, a hand violently grabbed his shoulder before he was pulled back to face the opposite way.

“Hey, you, what about me?” a girl asked, causing you to look behind the small businessman’s figure to see a girl around the same age as you point to herself with the thumb. From what you could observe, she had short orange hair that seemed to be dyed due to the slightly darker colour of her eyebrows but it wasn’t obvious while carrying what seemed to be many shopping bags around her arms while her carrier pink backpack on her back. However, the uniform she was wearing was saying something as the buttons gave an indication of what she was.

‘Ah, so she’s the new student’ you thought before processing to continue looking at the scene right in front of you.

“For the modelling gig, duh, I’m asking what you think about me,” she commented leading you to give squint your eyes in confusion, what was the point of being a model when you were already a jujutsu sorcerer at Toyko Metropolitan Curse Technical College.

On the other hand, what you were concerned with was the three males who were standing on the sidelines watching the situation unfold leading you to give them a bored look before walking towards them with your left hand in your skirt pocket since the slit on the other side made it not possible for another pocket to be made.

“We’re about to go talk to her? That is kinda embarrassing,” Itadori commented while lifting up what seemed to be more than popcorn in his hand leading to a confused look to appear on your face, while Fushiguro gave an irritated side glance as he tutted.

“So are you,” Fushiguro mentioned, due to the silly ‘rook’ tourist glasses he was wearing before glancing to the other side where Gojo stood as the teacher called out the female student to come their way, while some female passersby commented on the white-haired sorcerer’s blindfold to which was quite understandable.

ꕥ

Slashing the metal locker door shut, the new student then inserted the needed amount of coins to make sure the door was completely locked before turning to the three males that stood right in front of her.

“Okay, once again,” Gojo mentioned as he raised an arm to indicate to her that she can introduce herself.

“Kugisaki Nobara,” Kugisaki introduced herself before continuing with, “be happy, boys. I’m the one woman in your group,” leading to some confusion to float around within the group.

“Where’s Y/N?” Gojo curiously asked the boys as they continuously turned around the area to find where you were before turning back to look at Kugisaki. Suddenly, behind Kugisaki, the boys had found you heading towards the group while casually sipping on another carton of orange juice that you had bought out of the blue once you saw it while passing by a vending machine when you were walking to the nearest locker station for the student that had arrived.

“Ah, sorry, I got a bit thirsty,” you commented while lifting the carton up before finally standing next to the new student, who you just found out was named Kugisaki Nobara as you were able to still hear what she was saying while you were coming back to them. However, it seemed like you weren’t what she was analysing right now as you noticed her looking right at Itadori and Fushguro with an intense glance.

“I’m Itadori Yuji, I’m from Sendai,” Itadori introduced himself as he used his finger to indicate to himself as well.

“Fushiguro Megumi,” bluntly stated, as he turned to look at Kugisaki.

Letting out a sigh of disappointment, Kugisaki proceeded to complain about the circumstances she was in, leading the boys to look at her with a really awkward expression on their faces.

“She took one look and sighed,” Itadori commented, as his face turned into a sulk while Fushiguro wasn’t making eye contact at all.

“I’m Gojo Y/N, I hope we can get along,” you quickly stated, while trying not to cringe at your name, leading Kugisaki to look to her side to find you looking at her before a hint of glee and joy processed to manifest in her eyes.

“Maybe the circumstances aren’t that bad! But why do you have the same name as your teacher when you don’t even look alike?” Kugisaki mentioned while giving you a small smile to which you gave her the same trying to be friendly with the new classmate that you had just met.

“Ah it’s a drag to explain fully, but I’m his adoptive daughter,” you quickly answered as you didn’t want to slip up the lie that was concealing your whole identity which seemed to convince the sorcerer since she gave you another nod, telling you that she understood what you had just mentioned.

“Are we going somewhere from here?” Fushiguto asked his teacher, as he turned to look towards the direction of the tall man leading to a light laugh to emit from his mouth causing you to get suspicious of what Gojo was planning.

“We do have all four of you together and not to mention, three of you are from the countryside,” Gojo suddenly mentioned, leading all his students to look at him, anticipating what he had planned. “So of course we’re going on a tour of Tokyo,” Gojo suddenly announced, leading to excitement between Itadori and Kugisaki to burst out while Gojo joined in, to hype the moment up.

“Tokyo! Tokyo! Tokyo! We love Tokyo!” Itadori and Kugisaki cheered, leading you and Fushiguro to look at the two with such confusion expressed on your faces.

While you looked at the scene with such confusion, Fushiguro was more confused at the fact of why you weren’t enlivened at the fact about this ‘tour’ while the two started arguing about the structure of Tokyo as they were getting some places confused with other places.

“Why ain’t you excited?” Fushiguro commented as you continued to sip on the citrusy drink that you had brought earlier leading to another question on your obsession with orange juice to pop up in his head.

“I’ve already been to Tokyo for some business trips with my mother from time to time and what I mean by that is exorcising curses here with her,” you answered before continuing with “also, I have a suspicion that we ain’t going on a tour, it is Gojo Saturo after all,” before going back to drinking on the carton drink you were craving for.

“I will now announce our destination,” Gojo stated, leading both Itadori and Kugisaki to kneel down in front of your teacher, only for you to give them a strange look before Gojo proudly announced where everyone was heading off to.

“Roppongi!”

“Ro-ppong-gi!” Itadori and Kugisaki said with glee as they turned to each other with the same exciting look.

‘Well, let’s see how this goes’

ꕥ

‘I knew it....’

“There's a curse here,” Fushguro stated as you gave a slight nod while inspecting the large abandoned building that was surrounded by a large ominous dark purple hues indicating that there was just more than one curse in the building or maybe just a single one - you couldn’t sense it due to the amount of cursed energy being released out of the building.

“You liar!” Itadori and Kugisaki screamed in anger while complaining at the fact that they both were deceived on where they were heading off to before Kugisaki shouted something about ‘toying with us country folk’.

“There’s a big cemetery nearby, the double whammy of that and an abandoned building brought out a curse,” Gojo informed everyone like staring up at the building as well.

“So they really do pop up more often around graves?” Itadori questioned after his little tantrum, leading you to realise that he had no knowledge on how curses appeared or anything to do with the jujutsu world to start with.

“The issue isn’t the cemetery itself, it’s the fact that people associate cemeteries with fear,” you explained to the noobie while swirling the now empty carton in hand.

“Oh, it was the same for schools, too, wasn’t it?” Itadori then asked as he turned to look at you for any answers causing Kugisaki to pause her ranting to look at Itadori with a perplexed look on her face.

“Hold up. He didn’t even know that yet?” Kugisaki questioned, leading you to give off an awkward laugh while looking to the side away from the group which only led to more confusion to emit from her.

“To be honest….” Fushiguro started before explaining the situation that had brought Itadori to where he was now causing Kugisaki to give an extremely disgusted look on her face - and to be honest, you couldn’t blame her at all.

“He swallowed a special-grade cursed object!?! Gross! Unbelievable! That’s so unsanitary and disgusting! No way, no way, no way, no way!” Kugisaki yelled out before running away from the three of you as you looked at her with nonchalant faces.

“What?!” Itadori shouted in confusion.

“I agree with her,” Fushiguro mentioned in a blunt tone, leading you to completely ignore your classmates as you continuously looked up at the building in front of you.

“I want to know what all of you are capable of, just think of this as a field test,” Gojo informed everyone with a smile on his face before calling out Itadori and Kugisaki to tell them they were going to exorcise the curse inside the building themselves leaving you confused since you were also a new student here as well.

“Huh? But I thought only curses could exorcise curses, right? I can’t use any jujutsu yet,” Itadori asked before indicating his lack of ability to the teacher.

“You’re basically half a curse already, there cursed energy flowing throughout your body,” Gojo stated as he pointed at the vessel before continuing to explain “though controlling that energy isn’t something you can learn overnight, so use this,” before taking out what seemed to be a cursed weapon in front of you and the rest.

“It’s the cursed tool, Slaughter Demon. It’s a weapon imbued with cursed energy, it’ll work on curses, too,” Gojo explained while Itadori gazed at the weapon in amazement.

“Like Gojo’s sword? And why isn’t she taking part in this test?” Itadori then asked as he pointed at the bag behind your back leading to Kugisaki to look at it in shock since she thought it was just a normal carrier bag that you just had.

“Yeah, kind of like that and to be honest, this test isn’t good enough to test her abilities, she wouldn’t need to take the katana out and probably use it with the wooden hilt on,” Gojo explained as he turned to you with a cheeky smile of his face.

Suddenly, Kugisaki turned her back towards all of you before fastening a brown belt around her waist which had a small pouch to keep whatever she needed in there, leading Itadori to follow behind her.

“Oh, one more thing,” Gojo suddenly shouted, causing Itadori to turn as Gojo then stated, “don’t let Sukuna out, if you use him, you’ll get rid of all the curses nearby in a flash, but you’ll also drag everyone around into it.”

“Got it. I won’t let Sukuna out,” Itadori assumed his teacher before Kugisaki turned back around to complain to her classmate to hurry up while you quickly took a seat on the stone platform that was right behind you before setting your bag down onto the side making it lean against the same stone you took a seat on while Fushiguro and Goj followed behind.

“I think I’ll go, too,” Fushiguro mentioned, causing you to give him a side glance as you wondered if he was worried or just not hopeful that the two will actually exorcise the curse.

“Don’t push yourself, you’re still recovering,” Gojo reminded his student before saying “if I needed to put someone in for backup, it would be Y/N since she seems to be in a better condition than you.”

“But someone needs to keep an eye on Itadori, right?” Fushiguro questioned in a concerned tone.

“True,” Gojo answered in a dazed tone, indicating to you that he wasn’t worried one bit.

From your perspective, you understood why Fushiguro was worried about your new classmate since he didn’t have the ability to take on a curse from his lack of experience but from what you could recall from that night, it seemed like you didn’t have to worry at all.

“That Yuji..he’s missing a few up here,” Gojo randomly stated, as he pointed his head to indicate his brain. “He has no hesitation, when it comes to killing these things, take that the form of living creatures, albeit bizarre-looking ones, to try to kill him,” Gojo explained to his long-term student while you were just resting the back of your head on the wall before your teacher continued with “and it’s not like he’s been familiar with curses for a long time, like you. This is a boy who used to live a normal high school life, you’ve seen plenty of jujutsu sorcerers, even though with talent, give up in frustration because they couldn’t conquer their fear or disgust, haven’t you?” leading to Fushiguro to look down to his hands as he thought about the statement while you looked up to the sky to question your own thoughts.

‘Is that one of the reasons why the L/N clan decided to disappear? Nah, they were able to seal Sukuna, there is no way that could be the reason’

“So today I want to confirm how crazy she is,” Gojo mentioned, somewhat giving you a slight idea on what he was trying to inform you both.

“But Kugisaki has the experience, right? Little late for that now, isn’t it?” Fushguro asked as he was still unsure about what Gojo was trying to tell him.

“Curses are born from human minds, so their strength and numbers grow in proportion to the population, curses in Tokyo are on a different level than those in the countryside,” Gojo said in a low tone to which Fushiguro understood but still had some uncertainty lingering in his head.

“What he is trying to say that ‘level’ doesn’t mean the amount of cursed energy one curse may have but their cunningness, what he is testing is how one reacts to cruel choices that are forcibly handed to them like the weight on a human life in danger balancing upon your shoulder,” you casually explained, leading Fushiguro to look at you while Gojo had a bright smile on his face, glad that you understood what he was talking about.

However, before you continue with your explanation, there was a loud crash being heard from above with pieces of broken glass falling to the ground leading to the three of you down below to look up, only to find the curse causing the purple hue trying to escape.

“I’ll exorcise it,” Fushiguro quickly said, as he clasped his hands together ready to summon a shikigami. However, he felt a tug on his arm leading him to look down to find you tugging onto the sleeve of his uniform.

“Hold on, have some confidence in your peers,” you muttered, before letting go of the fabric as you processed to lean your head back onto the wall while closing your eyes. “I don’t know how long you have been alone but understand you have teammates now, so rely on them as well, okay?” you stated as you slowly opened your eyes to peer up at the curse, only to suddenly see large metal strikes come out of its body before disintegrating into nothing, while the purple aura that was surrounding the abandoned building disappeared with it.

“Nice, she’s crazy, all right,” Gojo mentioned with a gleeful smile on his face, happy with the results that had just come in from this field test.

ꕥ

“I live over there! Thanks again!” the kid mentioned as he pointed towards the direction of his house before running off.

From what you could recall, at the end of the field test, Itadori and Kugisaki came out of the building with a child before explaining that he was in the building during the test and he was caught in the middle of it all.

Observing the boy running to his house, you wanted to make sure he got home safely from a distance to which he did once you saw him enter through the gates to what seemed to be his house before being greeted by an obviously worried mother, who scolded him for wondering about before being pulled into a hug.

‘I wonder what’s it like to have a normal childhood?’ you wondered before small but vivid memories began to appear in the back of your mind.

“I’m jealous,” you whispered, before turning around to find both Fushiguro and Gojo already walking back to Itadori and Kugisaki, who both were sitting on the stone steps impatiently waiting for the three of you to finish the task that needed to be done.

‘In the end, I’m alone with the responsibilities of the L/N clan upon my shoulders but I have you, dear. Even with this world being full of curses and impurities, I feel like I have a normal ordinary life with you by my side. I wish I could have given that to you, I’m sorry….’

“It’s okay,” you whispered again, this time leading Gojo to turn back to you with a confused look on his face which caused Fushiguro to look back as well, finding it strange that you haven’t left your stop since the kid was already back at his home, safe and out of harm’s reach for now.

“Did you say something Y/N?” Gojo asked, only for you to shake your head to deny that you had before making your way back to the group.

“Good Joseph! We made sure the kid got home,” Gojo shouted while giving a small wave towards the two students, who suddenly jumped up on their feet which confused you slightly since they had such a determined look on their faces.

“Now shall we go grab some food?” Gojo kindly questioned leading the same two students to now express two huge grins while shouting out their preferred meal for tonight.

“Beef!”

“Sushi!”

“Leave it all to me!” Gojo excitedly stated with two thumbs up before turning to his two other students, who were waiting on the sidelines. “And you guys?” Gojo asked with the same huge grin that Itadori and Kugisaki were expressing.

“I don’t really mind,” you answered in a casual tone before turning to look at FUshiguro, who was suddenly randomly scrolling through his phone with a bored but somewhat irritated expression on his face, causing you to wonder what he was reading or finding that made him have a scowl on his face.

Taking you by the arm, Gojo started walking off with you, Itadori and Kugisaki leaving Fushiguro behind, who had just realised that you all were walking away once he heard his teacher say ‘okay, let’s go’.

“Oh, I forgot about my biggest haul of the day. Hey, you, go fetch my things,” Kugisaki said in a demanding tone, as she decided to be the leader of the group since she was walking in front of everyone.

“Huh? Why should I do it? I thought we were even,” Itadori complained, as he didn’t want to get the items that were left in the coin locker back at Harajuku.

“We won thanks to my cursed energy. Got a problem with that?” Kugisaki countered back, as she confidently continued walking in front of all of you like she would know where the restaurant Gojo was taking you all was.

“What about my raw strength?” Itadori argued, leading you to wonder what he did during the time he was the at the abandoned building with Kugisaki to mention about his immense but strange strength.

“Your monstrous power from eating weird shit?” Kugisaki shouted as she was implicating the cursed finger that Itadori swallowed as a reason for Itadori’s strength.

“It’s not just that! Right, Fushiguro, Gojo?” Itadori asked as he turned to you and Fushguro, only to find the male student with a frown on his face as he looked to the side.

“Huh? What’s the matter, Fushiguro?” Itadori questioned, as he wasn’t sure on why Fushiguro seemed to be moodier than he originally was.

“Nothing,” Fushiguro bluntly answered, not making his answer very convincing for you, Itadori, Kugisaki and Gojo leading your teacher to think it was the best time to tease his shikigami-user student.

“He’s pouting because he didn’t get to join in,” Gojo mentioned with a sly smile, which caused Kugisaki to lean back with her hand on her lips to cover her laugh.

“What a child,” Kugisaki teased, causing Fushiguro to groan in frustration before giving the female sorcerer with an irritated glare which led to Itadori laughing at the facial expression, leaving you to stay silent as you watched the scene in front of you.

‘But I’ll make sure you have the most normal life as you possibly can, so make sure you’re not alone in this world like I am Y/N, I want you to be happy even when we’re both stuck with this burden!’

“Yeah mother, I’m trying,” you whispered before continuing to walk with everyone to wherever you all were heading off to without realising the events that will occur in the future.

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sims4lizzyuk · 3 years

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Vampiric tales: A vampire legacy challenge

VAMPIRIC TALES: A vampire legacy challenge

General rules: -All of your sims must be vampires -For each generation, you must complete three aspirations before moving onto the next one -After three aspirations, your elder vampire and their spouse will retire to a huge gothic mansion/castle in another world, relinquishing the title of coven leader. They will still be an ‘elder’ vampire and can be visited for advice, but they are no longer leaders of the coven – simply wise vampires. -Follow these rules from the ORIGINAL Vampire Coven Challenge (which I couldn’t find online), as building a coven is part of this: -You must have two main ‘elder’ vampires who are grand master vampires and the leaders of the coven. The title of elder can only be bestowed upon your family – more specifically, your current sim, their spouse, and the past generations and their spouse. -You must have four ‘elite’ vampires with level 8 logic skill -You must have six ‘guardian’ vampires with level 8 fitness skill -All other minor vampires and above are considered ‘family’ -All vampires ranking below minor vampire are considered ‘fledglings’ -Every time a new generation is born, turn two new fledglings -Keep records of every vampire through books and/or paintings about them -All generations must master the vampire lore skill -All generations must have the ‘vampire creation’ power -The heir to the coven is your eldest child and their spouse -All vampires, once a master vampire, must be immune to the sun -All the vampires in your coven must be random townies that you find. You must turn them and mould them to make them into who you need them to be (not by changing their traits, just by giving them skills and teaching them vampire lore) -Once your starter sim has moved into Forgotten Hollow and has the vampire creation power, you may start turning sims who will become your elite and guardian vampires. You may not create them in advance. -If any of your vampires die (no judgement), you must keep their grave on your home lot -The main members of your coven must live in Forgotten Hollow – Vlad’s house, your house, a house for the elites, one for the guardians and one for another household of family. Once Forgotten Hollow is full, you may expand into other worlds (you may want to turn Newcrest into a vampire world) but all homes must have the gothic, vampiric vibe of Forgotten Hollow -If you want your elites and guardians to retire, they may do this and you can choose new ones but they must have the necessary skills for the role. You may also keep the same ones throughout the generations. -This is designed for all the packs up to Dream Home Decorator – if you don’t have them, just adapt the challenge as you choose.

Gen One Aspirations: Master Vampire, Vampire Family, World-Famous Celebrity Traits: Genius, romantic, ambitious

To do: -Create a vampire sim with a very gothic vibe and move them into Fledermaus Bend – build them a gothic, vampiric home. You may use money cheats for this. -Marry one of the three original premade vampires in Forgotten Hollow – Vladislaus Straud IV, Caleb Vatore or Lilith Vatore. -Win a vampiric spar against Vlad -Have four or more children -Finish all three named aspirations -Retire to a huge gothic castle/mansion in Del Sol Valley

Story: You are new to Forgotten Hollow. You are a young vampire with a lot of dreams – primarily, you want to build your own vampire coven. Your past was difficult, and you decide to move away to Forgotten Hollow. You have your own house just the way you like it. There, you find three other vampires and you make it your goal to get into their good books. They help you to learn all about being a vampire, and they teach you ancient lore. One of them, you fall in love with along the way. The three of them didn’t get on well at first – but once you enter the picture, the four of you become very close. As you gain in power, you establish a small coven of which you are the leader. You start to turn more vampires and to tutor them as you were tutored. You marry your vampire love and start a family. Once you feel satisfied that you are the most powerful vampire in Forgotten Hollow, you start to focus more on relations within your coven. You want it to feel like an immortal family, and you make sure both your children and the vampires you have turned have a good relationship with you. After that… perhaps you can expand beyond Forgotten Hollow. Perhaps you can take over the world. Believing you can do anything, you start to pursue fame. You start to share tales of your coven around the world and eventually, you really do have it all – love, family, money and global recognition. You decide it’s time to pass on the title of coven leader to your eldest child, probably now grown-up and more than capable of handling everything. Assuring your family that you will always be there if they need you, you and your spouse move away to a huge gothic castle in Del Sol Valley to enjoy a much-deserved retirement. You’ve done very well.

Gen Two Aspirations: Soulmate, nerd brain, outdoor enthusiast Traits: Genius, dance machine, ambitious Career: Secret agent

To do: -Complete your three aspirations -Complete the secret agent career -Get married to another child from the coven -Master the dancing skill as well as all those you need for aspirations -Have two or more children

Story: You were raised in the coven as it grew in power, and you see the love and the power that your parents had and want that for yourself – admittedly, the love more than the power. You’re smart and ambitious like your parent, and you also love to dance… although you’re quite mild and modest, there are a lot of things you can do. As you grow up, you quickly find the soulmate you were looking for in one of the other members of the coven – you’re surprised to find that your dream had been right beside you all along. You get married and start a family, and you pursue a career as a secret agent which surprises a few people, but it’s what you really want to do. You’re incredibly smart and have never sought praise for your accomplishments, and a part of you enjoys the secrecy. You focus on your job as well as practical skills – both logic and handiness. Once you’ve mastered your career and even been to outer space, you feel there’s something missing – and, leaving the coven stuff more to your spouse, you find it in nature. You visit Granite Falls and fall in love. This is everything you’ve needed. Your spouse and family are important to you, but you find it equally important to just be with nature. After spending more and more time in Granite Falls, you eventually realise what it is that you want – to just step back from the coven. It’s your parents’ legacy and you’re proud to uphold it – but your eldest child is ready now. You move away to a small and cosy yet, of course, gothic house in a nice, wooded area with your spouse, and settle down into a quiet life with the one you love – although, of course, you’ll still visit your family.

Gen Three Aspirations: Friend of the animals, Freelance botanist, Traits: Perfectionist, good, hot-headed Career: Veterinarian

To do: -Marry another sim from the coven -Have two or more children -Complete the three aspirations -Master the wellness and gardening skills -Always have two or more pets

Story: You’ve always made it your goal to do everything you do to the best of your ability. You want a great life, a great spouse, great kids and pets… you just want it all. You love animals and you love helping people, so you open up your own (naturally, vampire-themed) vet clinic as soon as you are able. As much as you have positive intentions, though, you still have issues with anger – and that just won’t do. You throw yourself into wellness and try to centre yourself as much as you can – and, naturally, you succeed. Your anger still bubbles up to the surface, but you know how to deal with it. In order to aid this, you remember how your parent used nature to ground themself, so you start to focus more on your gardening and find that you enjoy it. Once you’re content that your garden is everything you want it to be, you find a new focus – writing. Initially, you were just writing books for your kids and the coven’s children, just novelty little books about vampires – but then you really got into it and before you know it, you’re writing full novels of all different genres, self-help books about wellness and gardening, records of your coven’s vampires… you become a bestselling author, and eventually decide that you want to focus more on being with your spouse as well as your writing and your career – and on top of running the coven, that’s a little much. You move away to somewhere nearer your vet clinic, and you leave the role of coven leader to your eldest child who you more than trust (perhaps wrongly) to handle it. They may have a lot going on, but you trust that they’ll find a way to work through it. Your other child/ren will be able to support them, at least.

Gen Four Aspirations: Hope vs. Order (Enforcer of order), Public Enemy, Galactic privateer Traits: Perfectionist, paranoid, evil Career: Criminal

To do: -Marry someone from Batuu (after turning them into a vampire) -Master the robotics skill and build a servo -Have one or more children -Complete your three aspirations

Story: You are… an interesting sim. You take care of the coven, sure, but you also believe that when it’s as advanced as this… it kind of runs itself. You’re a perfectionist as well, but in a very different sense than your parent. You don’t trust anyone, and you’re always afraid of people stealing the coven’s power. You’ve never really cared about mortals, and you find it fun to mess with them sometimes. As a young adult, you run away to Batuu and join the First Order – just to stir things up. You live out your life, marry someone from there and work your way slowly up to the top – although, of course, you go back to visit the coven sometimes and check everything’s okay. You trust your sibling/s to handle it – they’re someone you do trust. Once you’ve reached the very top of the First Order, you disappear back home. You’re there for the coven – but you also focus on the criminal career. Your family run the world – but you want to run the underworld as well. You make a lot of enemies and even kill one of them – it wasn’t fun any more, they were just annoying – and life becomes true chaos and you love it. You also start to get into robotics, which you enjoy a lot, and you build a robot to help you with your crime and mischief. Once you’re content that the criminal world is yours and you’re the king/queen of thieves and liars, you return to Batuu – you’ve missed it there – but this time, you join the scoundrels. You find that they’re a lot of fun, so you use your wit and your silver tongue to reach the very top before returning home to your eldest child who’s frowning. They tell you that they haven’t been taking adequate care of the coven and they think you should leave them in charge. You’re more than happy to relinquish the responsibility, so you move away to a villainous lair somewhere and leave your child in charge. Your spouse understands you, even if no one else does.

Gen Five Aspirations: Mansion Baron, Fabulously wealthy, Computer whiz Traits: Squeamish, materialistic, bro Career: Interior designer, Tech guru

To do: -Master the video gaming and fitness skills -Marry a famous athlete (after turning them into a vampire) -Master the interior decorator and tech guru careers -Have other coven members over to watch sports at least once a week -Have two or three children

Story: The coven isn’t as in pieces as one might imagine – you and your aunt/s and/or uncle/s did a pretty good job of doing it while your parent was off in Batuu or being a criminal, so you are more than prepared to run it yourself. You love the gothic style, and you love interior design. You’ll confess that may be a bit materialistic, and if you’re honest, the plasma does gross you out a bit so you prefer to drink from plasma fruit where possible. You stick to the rules with your interior decorating, although you like to put your own gothic twist on it where you can. You also do up your own house and make sure it’s definitely up to your standards. You also love sports, so you frequently work out in the home gym that you installed, and you love to have other members of the coven over to watch the games on telly. When you’re out one day, you can hardly believe it when you meet one of your favourite athletes. Not only that – they seem to like you! You start dating, turn them into a vampire, have a big fancy wedding and start a family together. Once you’re well and truly rolling in it, you discover another passion that you have – video gaming! You add a gaming room to your vampire mansion, and you leave interior design behind to become a gamer. When you eventually decide that it’s time for you to retire, you purchase a lavish house somewhere dramatic – with all the same amenities as your old place and more, of course – and you move away with your spouse, leaving the role of coven leader to your eldest child.

Gen Six Aspirations: Lord/Lady of the knits, Master maker, Party animal Traits: Dog lover, maker, childish Career: Civil designer, freelance crafter

To do: -Marry someone you met at your great-grandparent’s vet (again, turn them if they aren’t already a vampire) -Always have at least one dog from when you become a child -Complete your three aspirations -Have at least four children -Visit every household in the coven at least once

Story: You have a child-like innocence and care passionately about making the world a better place. You loved to visit your great-grandparent at their vet as a child, and you’ve always especially loved the dogs. You focus on innovation to help the environment once you’re old enough to work, and you always look on the bright side. You also support your work with selling some of your knitting on Plopsy – you’ve loved knitting since you were a child. As a young adult, you meet the love of your life at your great-grandparent’s vet and fall in love very quickly. You marry quite young and start a family – a big family. Your spouse is very outgoing and helps you to let loose a bit whenever work stresses you out. Once you feel you’ve done a substantial amount to help the environment with your work and your knitting is getting successful, you decide to cut back a bit and try freelance crafting alongside your knitting – and this goes very well. You’re very happy with your fabrication and your knitting, and you feel like life is good. The coven is still running smoothly as well – once you no longer work full-time, you have more time to spend with your family as well as the coven. As you get older, you find that you really enjoy the social aspect of running the coven, so you start to host frequent parties for the coven. You make sure nobody feels left out, and you’re a real nurturing presence for the coven. Some of the younger members are surprised that such a powerful vampire can be so sweet and caring. When you finally retire to a nice – yet still gothic, that part of your family is as immortal as all its members – home in Brindleton Bay, the coven are sad to see you go but hopeful for the future under the reign of your eldest child.

Gen Seven Aspirations: Jungle Explorer, Archaeological scholar, musical genius Traits: Clumsy, hot-headed, cat lover Career: Manual labourer, entertainer (musician)

To do: -Master Selvadoradian culture, piano and pipe organ skills -Own a piano, a pipe organ and a keyboard -Always have at least one cat -Have at least two children -Complete your three aspirations -Master the musician career

Story: While your parent loves dogs, you are all about the cats. You are not physically gifted and have quite a short temper, but you’re determined to be a good leader of your coven and you’re very protective – enemies of the coven are treated very harshly under your reign. As a young adult, just when your parent is thinking about retiring, you decide to take a trip to the jungle to mentally prepare yourself for stepping up as the leader. There, you discover a real fascination for the culture and the music, and you meet your Selvadoradian sweetheart. You turn them into a vampire so you can live together forever and have a beautiful jungle-themed wedding. Once you’re married, you visit Selvadorada with your spouse as often as you are able and discover new things about it every time. While your kids are growing up, you only ever work part-time so that you can be there for them as well as running the coven and visiting Selvadorada. You become more preoccupied with studying the ancient past – you’ll always be there for the future, but the past from before the coven was founded is something you know little about and are eager to learn more. You love archaeology, and you also love music – once your children are a little more grown-up, you start to pursue your passion for music as well. You learn the piano and the pipe organ, and your music is soon ready to take you all over the world – that’s when you make the decision to retire and leave the coven to your eldest child. You had a good run, and you can’t wait for what retirement will bring for you and your spouse.

Gen Eight Aspirations: Academic, Beach Life, Leader of the pack Traits: Jealous, outgoing, child of the islands Career: Fisherman

To do: -Master fishing and fitness skills -Marry someone you meet at uni -Complete all three aspirations -Have one or more children

Story: The coven is practically ancient by this point, and doesn’t need an active a leader. You’ve always loved to learn and you’re desperate to go to university, so you think… ‘why not? Why shouldn’t I?’ You move out for a short while and have a wonderful time at university while running the coven from afar. One of your siblings in Forgotten Hollow helps out with running it while you’re away, and you promise to come back as soon as you’re finished with your degree. You don’t quite stick to it, but your coven agree once you’ve graduated that you deserve a holiday. You go on a week-long holiday to Sulani and fall in love with the islands. You and your university boy/girlfriend have a wedding there, and you promise yourself it won’t be the last time you visit. Of course, once the holiday is over, you obediently return to Fledermaus Bend, and you spend some time with your coven. You never forget what you learnt in Sulani, though. You host a kava party for the coven, and you continue to fish. You also go frequently to the swimming pool so that you can swim. You’re a natural leader, and you’ve always been good at getting what you want. You can get a little jealous – especially seeing as you struggle with being a vampire and watching mortals come and go – but when that envy comes to relationships, you promise your partner that you’re working on it. You start a few clubs where you can do the things you’re passionate about, and you eventually grow to be comfortable in your vampiric skin. Your coven love you even though you’ve been absent a lot during your reign, and they’ll miss you once you retire to a home in Sulani – the place that has called to you since you first visited.

Gen Nine Aspirations: Serial romantic, Painter extraordinaire, Joke star Traits: Child of the islands, adventurous, cheerful Career: Social media, entertainer (comedian)

To do: -Master the singing skill -Go to the karaoke bar at least once a week -Visit Gen One at least once a season -Have three or more children -Complete all three aspirations -Master the social media and comedian careers

Story: Your parents took you to visit Sulani a lot as a child so you do feel connected to the islands and you love a good adventure – but you’re more comfortable in your own skin. You love being a vampire, and you take full advantage of the fact that you’re immortal and mortals… aren’t. You’re very charismatic and love to sing, and you’re always visiting the big city for karaoke nights, which you post about on social media. You get on very well with the coven’s founder, and they’ve taught you a lot about how to succeed on social media – being a global superstar, they know all about that. You have relationship after relationship… until, eventually, you fall hard. You meet another vampire, a kind and creative artist who takes your breath away. For them, it’s worth leaving your serial heartbreaker reputation behind and before long, you’re happily married. They get you into art as well, and before long, you’re well on your way to having a successful art career alongside them. They always look on the bright side just as you do, and you’re a perfect match. Once your painting career is everything you want it to be, you find a new passion – comedy! You’ve always had a way with words, and you enjoy nothing more than using them to make people laugh. You’re happy, and life is just how you want it to be. When you retire, you move to a house in Sulani near your parents, and you feel more than ready to pass on the mantle to your eldest child.

Gen Ten Aspirations: Extreme sports enthusiast, bodybuilder, friend of the world Traits: Bro, loves outdoors, gloomy Career: Stylist

To do: -Complete all three aspirations -Master fitness, skiing, snowboarding and rock-climbing skills -Marry someone you meet at a Snowy Escape festival -Have at least one child

Story: You love sports and hanging out with your friends, but immortal life… it’s hard. As a younger vampire, you have a great time. You have a successful career as a stylist, and life seems great. With your sunlight immunity, you’re able to spend time in the outdoors. You visit the snowy mountains, you fall in love with someone you meet at a Mt. Komorebi festival… and they’ll never leave you, at least. You love the mountains and you love being outside… but as the mortals you knew grow old and die, you start to withdraw. You don’t visit the mountains as much. You introduce yourself to all the members of the coven you don’t know – for it has many branches now, it’s everywhere and it’s impossible for you to have met everyone in person – and you try to focus on being friends with everyone in your coven. Your coven is what you’re destined for. You can’t help but wonder, though… is vampire life really it for you? OPTION ONE: Continue the story! Gen Ten finds a renewed passion for life in the coven, and their children continue to run it! Choose more stories and more aspirations – use your imagination! OPTION TWO: This is the final generation. Gen Ten seeks out the cure and cures their family of vampirism. They grow old and pass on in peace. The coven is too powerful to die out now, but the main story of the great leaders will end here.

#sims 4 legacy challenge rules #sims 4 challenge rules #the sims 4 #vampires #ts4 vampires #legacy challenge #new legacy challenge

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sugar-petals · 3 years

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sub!Yuzu | nsfw alphabet

🌹 NOTE ⇢ content for our fave figure skater, the legend himself. mr. yuzuru hanyu is 1000% dom candy and i’m here to honor it at length ⛸

— WORDS. 5k

tags + warnings. dom/sub dynamics, femdom!reader, role reversal hc, smut, kinks, cum play, spanking, sex toys, very freaky yuzu, kitten play, mdlb, crying kink, food play, prostate orgasms, bondage, some deeper stuff & angsty bits, asthma mention, aftercare

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Once the cat ears come off, who is Yuzuru Hanyu not to remain in character for a while. For the shits and giggles, and because it’s cozy. Once a catboy, always a catboy, it’s the law of the land. Curling up, kneading at you for the head pats and massages, you know the programme.

Also: Yuzu is famously soft-spoken and always finds the right thing to say. So, stimulating conversation for the cooldown. This is literally so nice. He’s unafraid to reflect everything in detail, say what he preferred, what you could change up together, what he wants to try next. The afterglow is not just physical, as in you give him something to drink, it’s 70% verbal which is very important to him as a consistent habit.

Of course, not to forget: Always gotta have a Winnie Pooh plushie ready. He embraces it readily and, as we know him, does some roleplay right then and there. Yuzu, professional cutiepie he is, is the kinda sub who treats all plush and pillow stuff as alive and breathing. You as his domme are in on the play and also treat his things as holy as they are to him. That Yuzu lets you into that world is the biggest compliment you can possibly get.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

We all know Yuzu’s godly ass and thighs. Or the staggering waist and beautiful black hair that makes him a total bombshell in his classic comb-back styles. His face is soft and expressive and so damn unique, his legs muscular and long, his back and tummy chiseled, the list goes on and on. Jesus, he has so many great features. All body parts a masterpiece. That are all capable of god-tier contortionism on top of that, gotta mention it in passing. Just so you know if you haven’t seen him bend his every limb into directions you wouldn’t believe are humanly possible.

Interestingly though. If he chooses, Yuzu picks his feet: They are his most important instrument and weak spot. His ankles are where the magic happens. So, you taking care of them a little would mean the world to him, imagine a candle light massage. Not to worry, no-gross-alert. Yuzu has perfect and cute feet. That’s gonna be a Victorian moment, oh my god I saw his ankles. For his partner, short and simple: He likes a shoulder to lean on. He loves being touchy in general, all body parts are amazing to him. Being in a profession that’s all about the physics, Yuzuru knows about the wonders of the body.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Certified king of cumsluts, doesn’t even hesitate. The more, the merrier. If he’s not covered in sticky stuff, Yuzu would be underchallenged. It’s less about the taste, texture or any degradation, for him it’s the playing around with his tongue. Somebody wants his mouth preoccupied. Give the cat his milk. Feed him his own cum mixed with yours. He’s gonna lap at it and swallow.

Since Yuzu’s dream is a mommy domme baking him something, he just loves the smell of dough and hazelnuts and cinnamon and everything — you know what’s coming: Imagine the food play. Nuts indeed. Anything that even remotely looks like a creampie is something he wants to get his lips on. And Yuzu is not the type to be a foodie at all, let that sink in. Sexual-looking food is just too big a temptation, though. And you spoiling him that way... oh my. Surefire way to end up in bed right after.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has a butt plug collection. Once almost went on the ice with one in. The more you know. Also— this guy is the kinda type fantasizing to get absolutely railed on a bed of plushies. He has troubles suggesting it to you because he doesn’t want them to get actually dirty. But the idea gets the two of you kind of horny. Sometimes, a thought is better as a fantasy than actually executing it. You can use it for riling up’s sake, whispering it to him during dirty talk. How you’ll bounce on him and ruin him and milk him while he’s splayed out so innocently on your bed. I smell corruption kink.

Another secret Yuzu keeps is just how much he changed his mind about wanting his partner to control everything in bed. He grew up with a pre-defined ideal type of a cute, nice skater girl who’d let the reins very loosely around him, who he can speak Japanese to because he had problems with English, who is small and someone he will protect. It wasn’t something based on experience and trying things out: It was simply expected of him. People wanted the domineering Yuzuru on ice to be that way in private, and make use of his power, be a man, savior, boss.

The reality being: He never felt truly as tough on the ice, nor was he gender-conforming in person. In fact, that is what he became famous for, and it reassured Yuzuru very often how people would accept and actually celebrate this side of him. Which is so refreshing, and a sight to see. The side that was dorky, clingy, childish, gorgeous, and cute has always been there, but now he embraces it more as his comfort place. He has to know what he’s doing in his skating programme and show competitive spirit to achieve his dreams, but that’s where it stops.

His former ideals are something people wanted to hear, it was an adaptation of the environment rather than thinking it through on his own. So, years later — oh boy have things changed. Yuzuru no longer defines his ideal type that way, saying whoever he likes is someone he’d be with. What was a fantasy template and filter is now gone and adapted to his newfound, own preferences. Yuzu is comfortably open-minded rather than being a copy to mainstream. He found fun in speaking English, opened up to the world at large, had more girls around him who he could befriend, grew more confident in his stature, and is well aware — turns out he’s the cute one. Who needs to be taken under a wing. He likes strong-minded girls and says if he had a wife, she’d dominate him. Yuzuru secretly wants her to be in charge entirely, she owns his body and soul. Not in daily life where things are just normal and everyone goes about their business. Sexually, where he surrenders instead, and is taken care of.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The tale of an introvert. What he knows — he hides it well. Has eyefucked a whole lot of people and is the type to lust like mad from a far distance, and nobody will ever know. Crushes harder than peppercorns in a mill. If he loves someone, it lingers in his mind every split second of the day, may god have mercy on him. And if you know him: Yuzu aims too high to keep it light and easy and clumsy. He hates being an amateur, he’s terrified of starting out something. He dreads not knowing what to do, how exactly to behave, talk, touch, breathe, respond, negotiate, prepare. That’s a hundred percent like hell to him.

Ironically, he has a natural feeling for it and he’s literally amazing in bed, has a sense for social interaction is all the way cute with something valuable to say. But what he believes is something way different. Yuzuru is a diehard, nervous perfectionist. He can only think of it as a rated performance since his mind usually has to work that way to skate well. His esteem is on a knife edge depending on how well he thinks he does. So, the inevitable: He will shy away from sex altogether. He draws immense skating passion from staying celibate, in fact it’s his success secret, but it still eats him up from the inside and makes him frustrated beyond measure. Not even for the pleasure, since he’s so ambitious that’s almost forgotten about, but for being told he did well.

That’s how much he believes sex is a drill and capability test. And it’s sad that he thinks it’s like his skating career, racking up points for the impossible things judges want and being in a deadlock when it comes to showing his artistic side. He feels thrown into cold water if he doesn’t know everything beforehand. If he ever works up the courage, which probably won’t happen, he will pay an expert to learn from rather than let something all over the place happen with a random person or even someone he might like.

Yes, you heard that right. He’d rather see a sex worker than ‘mess up’ his first time according to his sky-high standards. So, Yuzu’s experience remains limited since he’s so 100% do or die, and so anxious, and so torn about social interaction, he doesn’t get how his peers can be playboys and get married and flirt with someone they like and all that. He sort of has an easier time with guys, but girls... he can’t approach. To top it off, he also feels like he’d burden his first time one somebody or embarrasses himself, so he will reject and avoid suitors. Those are usually not the people he crushes so hard on to begin with. It’s bound to be one-sided and he knows, so he will abstain and focus on career and use the cheers of his fans as a substitute.

Truth is, he feels helpless and distant from sex sometimes, especially with his practice-heavy lifestyle and hyper-smart mind, Yuzuru has an intelligence that exceeds what most people can grasp. He’s alone on the ice and Brian as a coach is often the only reference person who truly gets him, and leads him well without being controlling. But that’s professional life. Sexually, Yuzuru is metaphorically: coachless. He surely observed it well when Javier (the #1 ladies man, his opposite) was still active and a social butterfly helping him fit in, but Yuzu would always be worried about his extreme fame and spotless image when introduced to someone fangirling over him. He’d rather prefer someone who comes across as a mentor and solid, loyal-to-death person to look up to. So he would do anything to have someone benevolent like that. Most girls would expect him to be the sex god and expert, but he knows that’s only half of the story and based on his characters on the ice. Yuzu crafts these to counterbalance how he really is — withdrawn and indirect.

Yuzu is extremely calculating and selective, he scans suitors well, protects his reputation, and is mortified of failure. So, he’d rather learn it by the book and from someone he’s not emotionally attached to. In a one-night stand that might also be the case, but he doesn’t know what to expect, and he’s absolutely terrified of sudden sexual vulnerability. He himself often says he values his own struggle between feeling so weak and being strong again

Besides: He’d have problems squeezing hookups into his schedule and lifestyle, he’d have to cut down on things and create a double life. Plus, Yuzu is famously inept with social interaction up close, he flees the noise and unpredictability. So, it’s better to have a long-term partner. If he doesn’t know something yet, he has it down in one day like the single axel. Definitely counts on his partner teaching him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

We know Yuzu’s signature move is the lean-back Ina Bauer. So, whatever position allows for an arch is the real deal (cough, taking the strap — oh my god his ass is made for it). But anyway, he can pull off anything with that stellar flexibility and core strength.

If I think about it. Yuzu might like sitting on your lap very much. I know it’s not a sex position, I mean it can be once his inner lapdancer awakens or you use a strap-on, I rather mean... just for some sweet moments and making out. But yeah: Fathom Yuzu gyrating on your like that. Not in an outright lascivious manner or Chippendales style. The Hanyu way, with embellishments and all the grace. This is gonna be a huge turn-on and perfect foreplay position.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not much to elaborate here: Yep, Yuzu is true goofball indeed. Really flustered and clumsy when eye-to-eye in missionary, and yet: He’s ultra serious towards the end, there’s gonna be an aggressive staredown before cumming. The feeling gets pretty intense, his duality between silly and ‘yeah, give it to me’ is no joke.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Would probably die from inflammation if he shaved clean under those tight suits and did all these chafe-heavy skating routines. Doesn’t have a lot of body hair to begin with, but for pits and pubes, it’s alive, wild, and decently long. Out of all people, Yuzu cares particularly about aesthetics, but in this case pragmatism will prevail. He doesn’t care too much about it either as long as it doesn’t get in the way of something. Having sex with Yuzu tends to be well um well all about a hundred types of friction so any stubble would be a bad idea.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

You haven’t seen a guy in love like that. It’s a figure skater thing for sure. Since he works to portray these sentiments on the ice daily, hardly anybody can play up feelings so delicately and palpably like Yuzuru. Emotion is what his entire career is built on. He knows how to express himself directly, appropriately, intimately. Couldn’t be any more romantic. Yuzu can’t go without it.

Very passionate, ‘for your eyes only’ kind of atmosphere. Yes, he shows off on the ice, it’s his job (although of course, that word doesn’t really sum up what skating means to him). But private Yuzu is someone you can claim as yours. He will make it clear, he wants to belong to you, he’s yours, dedicated, devotion is the entire point. Less with a slant of what some subs like, very hands-on ownership of a mistress. It’s more emotional. He’s really attached and all smitten. Your private little haven is everything to him.

Talking about little: Yuzu can be quite a pillow prince sometimes. At least when the initiative doesn’t go back and forth as it frequently does, you often alternate with suggestions and ways of tweaking an ongoing play session. You blindfold him or tie his wrists, He might be standard tired from practice or just fascinated to watch you work your magic on him.

He also likes music to set the tone for intimacy, who’s surprised. Prepare: Yuzu likes dramatic classical music all the way. He’s probably one of the few people who can make it more than ‘classy’ and definitely more than cringe. He selects pieces very well. This is gonna be a practice template to cum together when the music reaches its peak. Makes the whole thing full of adrenaline.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Lots of fun to him. Would beat it 24/7 if the ice wasn’t calling him. Drowns himself in lube. This guy’s me-time is so rated R, Cardi B would be inspired to remix WAP to wet ass penis as an anthem just for him. A dry dick is a ruined day for Yuzuru, as is a session without teasing his prostate in whatever way he currently fancies. Once he tried it, he never went back. The intensity knocking him out is something that Yuzu thinks about all the time. Strokes like a pro, does all these little moans, can do it forever, loves the feeling, chases the high. Adrenaline junkie on the ice? No different with his hand around his cock.

Will masturbate everywhere in the house and has to really get his head in the game to make sure he won’t ruin any carpets. So, he always has at least two towels with him. In the kitchen, in front of the TV, in the shower, the bed. Watches his fair share of eclectic porn, he gets really desperate. Especially before you started dating, Yuzu would shut himself in until the lotion ran out. Can jack off to something romantic (he starts crying) or something extreme (he loves shocking himself and ).

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Very curious about sadomasochism. Googles a lot of things that make him hard during the day. Often jawdropped by his research, but once he tries things out with you, nothing can really shock him anymore. Absolutely wants to be collared, it’s his biggest fantasy. Another little secret he has, Yuzu is decked out in skating gloves, right. He wishes he could feel you wearing them, or he keeps them on for sex himself, the lacey transparent ones. Looks especially pretty when his wrists are tied so, major photograpy material. Oh yes, Yuzu likes the camera, he can work it. The guy is photogenic in any position and can strike any angle you want. Your phone background is a new Yuzu snapshot every week already, imagine your gallery, 5800 kinky pictures.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

I’m gonna say it. The frozen lake out of town, late at night, condoms and lube with you. A quickie that will leave your genitals frozen. Yuzu might get stuck inside you because it’s -15 Celsius. Call that fantasy on ice. Jokes aside: Come on, Yuzu is the biggest ever hermit homebody. The couch will have a bunch of indents after your week-long fucking sessions after he comes home training. Also, at his desk while he does work for university. You ride him, Yuzu studies. Double the ambition. His dick is completely sore. The lake out of town thing might go down, but without sex. Just skating together under the stars, Yuzu doing amazing spins and spirals around you, very very romantic.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Yuzu is a crazed Sagittarius. Have you seen these men? They just want it all. Must be the influence of Jupiter. Zeus was definitely vibing that way. And yes, Yuzu has borderline unhealthy gold medal thinking in bed. He wants to be not just good but damn good with pleasing you. If you don’t have a good time and head home without an orgasm, he’ll consider himself a failure. Yuzu won’t cut himself any slack there. You’d have a hard time changing his ways into something more chill and moderate. Instead, you will see the benefits of rolling with it once you see how improvement fuels him and does make sex really mindblowing.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Couldn’t do things like slapping you, spanking. Yuzu makes for a terrible daddy dom, it’d not suit him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Cum-dripping oral mess, Yuzu is the brave kind. Totally into it, and can’t resist a good blowjob. Will act different afterwards, there’s a lot of erotic tension. “This evening again?” is what those eyes are saying.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Outstanding kinesthetic intelligence. Every inch of his body follows his intent, and yours if you have him take on certain ways of kneeling. Yuzu can do it all, whatever you want. Tantalizing, moderato, overwhelmingly fast. He can take it, he can portray it. And knows the value of a pause like a true connoisseur. Not just when he wants to prevent cumming early, also just because the moment is right. That’s why cockwarming is a staple, as well as you having him wait patiently for kisses. To top it off: If you give him a blowjob, building up the tension by doing nothing is damn effective. The ruined orgasms you’re gonna give him... delicious.

Everything’s gonna have nice transitions as well, no awkward climbing and rolling and tangling limbs. If he gets something from another room that you need, no slouching. The university course as good as the extracurricular activities. Being inconsistent with any subsidiary details? Not in the Hanyu household, he’s keeping it classy. Yuzu feels like if he makes the bridges to new positions even remotely messy, the feeling is killed and it’s as if he’d break character mid-skate. Although he’ll have to practice and refine and test a lot of things because he’s not super experienced and adapting to your own movements is an individualized thing to do, he’s a masterclass of quality, period.

Even when things get fast and heated, nothing feels off. Having that kind of body smartness also means: Yuzu learns by touch, whatever you do. He knows by the way you pull his hair what comes next. How much saliva drips off your tongue when you suck at his neck, he knows how hard you’ll to ravage him in five minutes. This guy observes things you aren’t even conscious of because his physical understanding is just so fine-tuned.

The sense of rhythm, and every skating programme of him will showcase that, unbeatable. Unless his mood is really impacted by something severe, your guy feels it in every bone. He’s an artist, after all, he listens to music all the time. Dissecting rhythms to turn them into movement is what his line of work is all about. The pace will always fit the mood. Everything is precise, but never crude. Instead, the way he moves is dictated by an inherent flow. With little accents that match right with any thrust, like putting his hands on your sides when you’re on top of him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Hit it Shakira: Whenever, wherever! He seemingly carries an entire condom factory with him. Or, to be more exact: At least three of them.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

This one’s a complicated case. Yuzu being reckless on the ice may or may not mirror in your private life. He might need some downtime, so bring out the soft domme stuff. No trial and error stuff, just going through a routine of things you love the most. On the other hand, he always gives it all. This guy’s endurance at your hands is amazing. Advanced kinds of BDSM he will not feel deterred from at all. Rough toys, anal hooks, sounding, whips, why not is Yuzu’s motto. But then again. He has such a confusing mix of innocence and feeling like he’s completely hardcore. You might end up experimenting a lot, but also not daring the leap sometimes because the mood is different. And then rather go for softer hours, where Yuzu will be all shy shy and more bursting with excitement than ever. A good, interesting mix is what I’m saying.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Yuzuru, once he gets a bit of practice to gauge the situation... Viagra on two legs, absolute unexpected powerhouse. You might end up pondering to work out a little and go for a run because this guy is in a consistently outstanding shape to say the least. Olympic athletes are literally hard to fuck with. And since Yuzu is starfishing sometimes (which is very adorable), or he’s in bondage for some time, that presents a further problem: For a second round, he’s full of energy, while you already spent energy. So, you alternate with who’s active, and the other leans back entirely. He has to remind himself since his body is programmed for it: This is no contest — the point is feeling good.

You might ride him reverse cowgirl all the way while you watch TV, and after the overstimulation fades he will eat you out ad nauseam, full course slobbering, sweeping the whole menu. That way, it’s less about keeping up with him, which would be hard for most people not doing sports at his galactic level. He understands, Yuzu knows he’s not normal in that regard, you don’t have to worry. Some exercise still doesn’t hurt, just to further increase the quality of sex anyway.

Then again: Why go jogging and do some laps wasting valuable together time when Yuzu’s lap is the best workout? And running doesn’t guarantee your stamina in bed is perfect even if it does help. You rather wanna manage how to draw out the arousal. It’s a self-control thing, with the goal of having you match up in every aspect as good as you can. In which case, you can count on him to pull it off: Have you seen Yuzu doing jumps side by side with a bunch of female skaters? Copy paste. This guy knows how to synchronize with the ladies.

Something that has to be mentioned beside that, though. Yuzu has asthma since 2 years old, and it’s often a mind thing to him still these days. He doesn’t let it stop him from sleeping with you because as always, he’s not letting anything get in his way. He has learned to live and thrive with it. But you both have to mind the possibility of an attack, he prevents it with inhalers, and the mood plays a crucial role. Yuzu being comfortable and confident is so important to his breathing, and keeping a good rhythm rather than being chaotic in bed. So, you will plan most of your sexual activities rather than improvising.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Would stuff an entire sex shop into his every available orifice. Yuzu is a toy freak, he wants to try everything. Motto: a new one every day. Well, almost. But he can afford it. Buys stuff he uses solely on himself, things you use on him, things he uses solo and you use on him, and as the cherry on top, every possible high end vibrator on the market for you. Any size, too. This bitch will browse through the latest innovations, prepare to get off. He’s obsessed with seeing you use it on yourself. Yuzu owns a separate phone just for videos of you buzzing your clit, and him fingering you for minutes and minutes.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Extremely so. Loves to be a total brat only to get put into his place. He does it so you’ll pull the chin grab on him. He likes getting choked out as a punishment as well. Yuzu also tends to be very around the corner if you will when it comes to soft subbing, he lays over expecting cuddles but doesn’t say so. Buds his head against your chest, nuzzles, and so on. Lighter forms of teasing come to him very easily. Loves to prompt. Roughhousing, banter, favorite thing.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Moderately loud because his voice is very very light, but unsurprisingly — he’s just beautiful. What a nice tone. Gorgeous whimpering sounds. And when you go hard on him, voice cracks! And really heavy breathing. What’s gonna be the most striking though is his expressiveness. We know it from the ice and interviews, and he can really amp it up even further. No need for screaming, that face will speak the volumes.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You’ll be blessed with him if you have a huge crying kink. Yuzu definitely opens the waterworks every other week in bed. Happy tears, horny tears, relief tears, aftercare tears, orgasm tears, masochist tears, romantic tears, subspace tears, he has it all. He also begs for the type of pain that makes it stream down his face for minutes. He’s touchy-feely all the way and feels like he can really connect with you that way.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His ass twitching is kind of a spectacle, but I don’t have to tell you, do I. Yuzu has muscles for the gods in there. So voluptuous, you can’t call it any other way. Big booty boyfriend, Jesus you can show him off, he loves it. Around the house, he will flaunt them big ole athlete buns in particular, acting like it’s unintended. Um, Yuzu, those are joggings. Smack it, he is sure to moan.

And may I respectfully mention as well — this guy has some major big ass balls figuratively and literally. How else would someone be motivated to jump a triple axel like it’s nothing. Not kidding, they’re big and round and ugh. His love for tight pants doesn’t help. He knows what your eyes like and dresses just to flex the goods. Screams for more spanking and pinching if you ask me. Yuzu is definitely serving it. Well-endowed, you lucky girl.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Mega horny, ready when you are. On a scale from zero to hundred? Breaching into the 90 percent right there. Yuzu’s hormones are literally insane. On paper he’s 26, but his dick wants the 18th birthday party. Jesus is he gonna be clingy when he’s in the mood. All wrapped around you in a backhug in the kitchen or when you iron a costume of his, and that’s sexy of him. He’s not gonna hide what’s filling out those sweatpants. He’ll desperately grind up against you like it’s Christmas.

Paired with his puppy eyes and little “Do you have some time... I’ll iron this tomorrow” — instant pounce. He’s admittedly a bit hard to keep up with sometimes, though. The reason: With that level of exercise, he has major pent-up energy. That machine is definitely running. Heavy sports changes your hormones, nervous system, and especially blood flow. Now take that to the scale of his performances and regimens? That equals a firework of horny. No wonder he masturbates all the time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Takes some time. He cools down, sweats it out, chugs water. However, don’t underestimate how tired Yuzu can already be. His daily routines and competitions have a toll on him. Ironically, he’s not a deep sleeper, however. Yuzu might toss and turn and have sudden energy bursts, or ideas, or gets hungry. So, he needs his plushies, he needs a weighted blanket, warm pajamas, a hot cup of his favorite warm drink, a light snack, and you by his side. Spooning him excessively and sometimes even humming to him. Yuzu looks like a certified angel on his pillow, his well-deserved rest from everything is so important, too.

NOTE - hope i could indulge you, thank you for reading!

#yuzuru hanyu #figure skating #yuzuru hanyu smut #yuzuru hanyu smut alphabet #yuzuru hanyu x reader #sub!yuzuru hanyu #sub!yuzu #dom!reader #fs #smut alphabet #smut abc #smut a-z

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missmitchieg · 3 years

Text

Hey, Don't Die

It started out as a joke.

It was always supposed to be a joke.

The boys weren't supposed to die on him. But he forgot to say it. It wasn't his fault! He got distracted by the pretty girl in front of him and their favorite little inside joke just slipped his mind. So he didn't say it, and now the boys were gone.

Or maybe it was his fault they were gone. Sure, maybe it was a coincidence that every time he did say it, they didn't die on him and the one time he didn't say it, they went and died. Or maybe it was some weird fortune or good luck charm.

Whatever it was, Bobby didn't think he would ever be able to escape that positively heart wrenching, soul crushing guilt of how he should have said it, or how he should have been there to run and call for an ambulance.

The first time he said it was to Luke. It was a joke. It was funny. Luke made a comment at the end of the day that he was going to his parents' house to sleep because his bed didn't give him that neck crick that his couch did.

With a laugh, Bobby patted Luke's shoulder and gave a little squeeze. "Alright. Don't die out there, though."

Luke cackled at that and shook his head, giving him a half hug. "I'll try, buddy. Love you."

"I love you, too."

They kept that joke going for a couple of weeks.

The next one he made the joke to was Alex. It was still a joke. It was still funny. Alex was just going to make a quick pizza run and come back.

"Be quick. Don't die." Bobby told him.

Alex smiled and ruffled Bobby's hair the way he knew he hated, waving as he walked out. "I won't, bro."

"You better not. Love you."

"Love you."

Then came Reggie. It was still a joke. It was still funny. They were on a 'friend date', as Reggie called it, to the aquarium. Bobby, Luke and Alex all wanted to watch the great whites in the shark tunnel, but Reggie wanted to go look at the jellyfish in the opposite direction of the sharks.

"Alright. We'll meet back up by the clown fish, then. Don't die alone in there." Bobby smiled and patted Reggie's cheek.

"I won't, Bobins." Reggie chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, giving his best friend a sweet smile. "Love you."

"I love you, too."

It had sort of become their thing after a while. One or two or all of them would go off somewhere without 'their Bobble' and Bobby would always, always tell them, whether it was with a smile or a faux serious look on his face. "Don't die."

Then came that day. July twenty second, nineteen ninety five. Bobby had been distracted by a very pretty girl with curly hair and sparkly eyes and had just forgotten to tell his boys his usual comment of "Hey. Don't die out there. I love you.", so he hadn't said it. And then he got a call. A call to tell him that his band, his best friends, his boys, were gone forever.

He was horrified when he realized what had happened.

What he didn't say.

What he didn't do.

He had broken down about it to his parents, who promptly suggested that he go to therapy about it. Something about how it wasn't healthy to think this way and he did nothing wrong and he couldn't have known what would happen and he needed to talk to someone about it. So he did. He went and he talked about the boys and how it hurt that they were gone and they were never coming back. But he never told his therapist about their thing, about what he would say to them when they left his sight.

He had also managed to become a rock star by means of some sleazy contract he hadn't been given the chance to read properly giving ownership of Luke's music to some company and Bobby had been forced to record the songs and pass them off as his own and keep the true writer a secret.

It was fine. Luke was gone. He wasn't ever going to find out what the contract had roped Bobby into. So he did it. Just not without a few breakdowns in between song recordings and e-mails to his therapist about emergency sessions. But it was fine.

So he went on like that, taking his boys' music and recording it in between breakdowns and therapy sessions and becoming a mega famous rock star, just like he had managed to convince himself his boys would want him to.

He grew up and had a kid. A little girl named Carrie, who was his absolute little pride and joy. A little girl who was never going to live in a garage, or eat out of the back of a beat up car, or get food poisoning, or anything that could harm her. She was going to have only the best health care and knowledge he could buy and teach her and she wasn't going to die.

The first time he had told her the thing, she was a little toddler, going to day care for the first time. She had been excited to go to day care and meet new friends to play with and he had been a wreck thinking of all the things that could happen if he didn't remember to tell her. So he made a mental note to not forget before he walked out the door to go to work.

He had walked inside with a little curly haired toddler on his hip and, with a smile, said to his little girl: "Carrie, love, daddy's gonna go to work now. You're gonna stay here a while and I'll pick you up when I'm done working. I love you. Don't die here."

Carrie had giggled at that and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, giving him a peck on the cheek. "Love you, daddy!" She said before he let her down and she ran off to bang on a brightly colored toy drum.

Bobby winced as he felt his heart clench in his chest at the sight of his little girl playing a drum, just like his old best friend. He bit his lip as he clenched and unclenched his fists and walked out to the car to go to the studio, where he would try and write a song as good as Luke's old music again.

No matter how hard he tried to channel the guitarist, he just couldn't. He couldn't write like Luke, because he wasn't Luke. And Luke wasn't there to help him. Wasn't there to chuckle and suggest a clever slant rhyme, or a metaphor that would work, or a cool melody that sounded like something Luke would write, but also that Bobby, no, that Trevor could play in his sleep.

He groaned in frustration as he and his team of four other writers just couldn't come to an agreement about which rhyme scheme to use for this song, and kept glancing at the clock until it was the time to go and pick up his baby from day care.

He walked inside and looked around for Carrie, hoping, praying that saying the thing worked, that he hadn't lost his little girl like he lost his boys. "Care-bear? Baby?"

"Daddy!" Carrie giggled and got up from where she was sitting on the floor watching a little curly haired girl slam her fingers against toy piano keys, running up to him. "Hi, daddy!"

Oh, thank God. "Carrie, there you are! My little girl! Oh!" He cooed as he scooped her up into his arms and hugged her tightly to his chest, pressing kisses to the top of her tiny, giggling head.

"Aww!"

"That's so sweet."

"Oh, what a good daddy!"

Trevor looked up and chuckled, shaking his head. "I just love my little girl so much. Come on, baby. Let's go home. We're having that yummy pasta you like for dinner."

"Yay!"

After that, saying the thing became his and Carrie's thing, just like it was his and his boys' thing. He would drop Carrie off somewhere or Carrie would be on her way to the bus stop to go to school, and Trevor would send her off with an "I love you. Don't die.", and his daughter would smile and salute.

"Daddy, I'm going to my friend, Julie's!"

"Ok! Have fun and don't die! Love you!"

"Dad, I'm going to school!"

"Don't die at school! Love you!"

"Dad, can I go to Flynn and Julie's sleepover on Saturday?"

"Sure, just don't die."

And they went on like that for years.

Carrie always thought it was 'just one of dad's funny quirks'. An 'overprotective dad' thing. Sort of like Marlin from that cute kids movie, Finding Nemo. Carrie would go somewhere without him for a period of time, and Trevor would worry endlessly until she came back, completely unharmed. Then came the hugs and kisses and comments of "There's my favorite girl!" from him.

Little did she know just how much her father was suffering. Little did she know just how worried he was when she would leave, how relieved he was when it sank in that she was fine, that it had worked again, just like it always did.

So sure, maybe it wasn't necessarily 'normal' to say that every time his daughter was out of his sight for any amount of time. Maybe he was still a little traumatized. Maybe he should bring it up to his therapist. But he was fine. He was fine, as long as she was fine.

He ended up admitting it to his therapist mid-session. "So I do this thing with my daughter." He started. "Whenever she goes somewhere without me, I always tell her, 'don't die, I love you'. It's-" He coughed and cleared his throat taking a sip of water to will the sudden lump in his throat away. "It's... Something I used to say to my friends before they died."

Dr. Born nodded and wrote something down quickly, gesturing for him to go on.

"I always tell her. I never forget to. Because the one time I did forget... Well." Trevor made a kind of 'you know, I just told you' gesture and shifted, pushing his hair out of his eyes like his Reggie used to.

"I see."

"I guess I think... If I don't tell her, something will happen. Something will hurt her, a-and she'll disappear like my boys did."

"That sounds quite stressful." Dr. Born had said, in his non judgemental, caring therapist voice.

"It is." Trevor admitted, a familiar anxiety bubbling up in his chest. "Because what if I forget one day? What if I forget one day-"

"Trevor." Dr. Born said, sensing an unhelpful anxiety spiral coming on.

"-and Carrie gets hurt? What if I forget to say it to her just one time and-"

"Trevor."

"that's the last time I ever see my little girl, just because I forgot to tell her not to die-"

"Trevor!"

Trevor winced at that and stopped fidgeting with the toy Dr. Born had advised him to buy for his anxiety years ago now, looking up at him. "Sorry."

"Clearly, you were very affected by the death of your dear friends." Dr. Born noted. "But, why didn't you mention saying that to your friends or your daughter before?"

Trevor frowned at the question and looked down, wringing his hands. "I... Don't know. I guess that part hurt too much to talk about, or think about." He said with a tilt of his head.

Dr. Horn hummed at that and nodded his understanding, taking another note.

"My parents told me to go to therapy to talk about losing the boys, and how much that was affecting me." Trevor started. "I didn't have the capacity, I guess, to talk about that, so I stuck to the boys."

Dr. Horn nodded again, still giving him the most understanding, non judgemental look.

"And I-I guess I just convinced myself telling Carrie that was normal. That worrying if I didn't tell her that, I would end up losing her like my boys, was normal." Trevor continued. "That saying it or not saying it was sort of like a telling of what was to come. Because until now, it has been." He explained. "Because every time I said it, the boys lived. The one time I didn't, they ended up in an ambulance. Every time I say it to Carrie, she comes home safe. What if it happens again?"

Dr. Horn nodded again and hummed, looking for the best way to reply to Trevor. "I won't lie and say that's a normal train of thought, or necessarily true."

Trevor sighed but nodded. "Fair enough."

"But I also know it would negatively affect you to just stop saying it cold turkey."

Trevor nodded again.

"I think, whenever you decide you're ready, and you don't have to be ready the exact next time that Carrie goes somewhere, you should try texting it to her when she's already out the door. And eventually stop saying it altogether."

Trevor considered the thought and nodded slowly, wringing the toy in his hands. "I- Should I tell my daughter what I'm doing? It might be weird for her to be so used to hearing that every time she leaves to suddenly not hearing it."

"Oh, good thinking. I think you should tell her. Though, I'll warn you, she might ask about why you're suddenly cutting out a tradition between the two of you."

Trevor nodded, scratching his neck. "What will she think of me when I tell her about it?"

"You'll never know until you tell her."

So he did. Six months after the fact. He sat Carrie down and explained to her that their 'fun dad joke' was going to change a little soon. He explained why he would always say it and about the boys. He explained that it was going to stop.

Carrie sat and listened intently as she processed what her father was telling her, giving him the tightest hug she ever had after he had finished, both of them in tears. She couldn't believe that her father had just been living with that pain for years, and mentally preparing himself for it to stop for months. Knowing all of this, Carrie Wilson was the most confident she had ever been that her father was the strongest man she ever knew.

So she walked out one day, just to get some fro-yo with the girls, and waited for a text from her father when she didn't hear their thing said out loud. It came when she was two steps out the door.

The next time came just the next day, when Carrie was on her way to school. Carrie didn't hear it out loud, so she waited for a text. It came five steps out the door.

The next time came when Carrie had a performance that Trevor couldn't be at. It was in the same direction as the studio, so he drove her to the venue, and Carrie felt a sad smile stretch onto her face as she heard him say, "I love you. Don't die."

Two weeks later, Carrie was going to a sleepover at Julie's for the first time in a long time. She smiled as this time, she made it all the way to the car before she got a text saying their thing.

Almost a month later, Carrie grinned as she walked out to go to school and didn't hear it, and never got a text. She came home that day, no feeling of sickness coming on or bruise in sight. She was fine.

And he was fine, too.

#julie and the phantoms #bobby trevor wilson #luke patterson #alex molina #reggie molina #carrie wilson #jatp fanfic #someone asked for a read more thing

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seimeinotaka · 3 years

Text

Rêverie (An OberonXGudako fic)

MASSIVE LOSTBELT 6 SPOILERS INCLUDING OBERON'S PROFILE AND BOND CE

Summary: Oberon has been unexpectedly summoned to Chaldea. He wonders why he is even there as he reminisces what happened in Avalon Le Fae. But it seems Ritsuka isn't leaving him alone, much to his annoyance.

Thanks to jellyfishy for beta-reading this!

Once again, the story has major spoilers for LB6, Oberon's profile and Bond CE, as well as important plot points of Solomon, LB1 and LB5.

There's implied one-sided love, mentions of heavy topics such as loss, and mentions of deceased characters.

"Master, Master, you've gotten better at this!"

"Thank you, Gogh! I've been practicing a lot using the tips you and Oui gave me. Even Jeanne Alter praised my background, hehe!"

"Hey, I said it was passable. Pas-sa-ble!"

Ritsuka Fujimaru has been drawing something in the cafeteria, surrounded by many servants that come and go. No one asks what she is doing, they all seem to know or if they don’t, they don’t bother to ask.

It is so bothersome. Annoying.

So many people surrounding her, like an ultraviolet lamp that attracts all the bugs. Never mind that they end up getting zapped the moment they ever dare to touch it.

The people, the sound, the merriment, it all annoys Oberon, who only watches in silence as he eats some ice cream with melon.

To be able to smile like that, even after discarding all of those stories...Oberon doesn't hide a crooked smile. In the end, the lostbelts are no more than faint dreams doomed to end, forgotten by the winners, the panhuman history citizens. Ritsuka Fujimaru isn't different. For her, it's like reading the doujin the swimsuit berserker is making. Once the pages are closed, the story ends and it ceases to exist. She can choose to forget.

Truly detestable.

Oberon stares and then walks away, just as Ritsuka lifts her face. She looks around, the feeling of being watched faintly breaking her concentration.

But in the end he doesn't say a word as he leaves.

“Hey, you keep looking at Master!” Jeanne Alter slams her hands on the table where Oberon is sitting. Said Master is working again, too enthralled talking with Gogh to notice Jeanne Alter slipping away to talk to him.

“Does it bother if I do?” He gives her a crooked smile as she huffs and scowls. Though of course her face turns slightly pink.

“Tch, of course not! It's just your stare is getting on my nerves! Wouldn't you get distracted if someone is looking at you intensely?”

“I am a creation, not a creator. I wouldn't understand what you're saying. Besides, I wasn’t looking at her or you anyway,” he says mockingly.

“Hmph, whatever you say. Leave when Master is drawing, what she is doing is very important and I won't let you make it messy.”

“Hah, a page of your little comic? As if you need a lot of care. But fret not, I am certain that with your keen insight and guidance it will be something so memorable, up to the level of the famous writers here in Chaldea.”

“You bug...Bring it, I will burn you to a crisp! Moths do like fire, don't they? Surely you will feel at home then!” Jeanne Alter laughs. “I'll let you know that it is something so impressive that it would make you cry, if you're capable of that anyway.”

Though her Saint Graph right now is one of a Berserker, it seems the insight of the Avenger still exists deep within. After all, only those who are similar can recognize each other. Fake recognizes fake. Emptiness recognizes emptiness. Hate can only recognize hate.

Though come to think about it, Ritsuka has always been writing, he noticed she kept a small book on her, during quiet times. Perhaps a diary of sorts. It wouldn’t be surprising, to record everything she has experienced, as the writer of the winning history.

When we die, we'll become like those stories. Our lives are stories that might be discussed and forgotten, so it's not that different from your midsummer night dream.

A dream you forget once you wake up from your slumber.

“You're a tsundere,” Ritsuka says flatly as she rests her chin on her hand. She even dares to give Oberon a shrug and a smile, as if she can tell the truth between the lies.

“Ah, you're annoying.”

“That's exactly what I'm talking about, hehe!”

An obnoxious smile continues to be on her face, and he simply looks at her with unveiled disgust and apathy.

“Why am I even here?”

“Well, you answered the call, so you can only blame yourself for that.”

“What.”

“The rayshift system call can be refused. That's an inescapable truth. You lie a lot but there are some truths in your words. Or actions in this case. You wanted to be in Chaldea, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“Ah there it is, your virtuous nature shining through. One day you'll be fooled by someone who is pretending to be your ally...ah, my bad, that has already happened, isn't that right? Maybe you should learn your lesson.”

“Ah, yes. But it doesn't change that you are here. And because you lie often, that means I can just take it whatever way I like. You'll just deny it even if I'm right. But you can't deny we get along pretty well!”

“We do not!”

“See, that's a lie!”

“Ah, I'm going to the cafeteria! Don't follow me!”

Yet we thrive on dreams, don’t we?

“How long do you think I've been in this business? Have you interacted already with some of the servants here? I can tell you don’t mind my company.”

“I quit, I'll break the contract!”

“So, one cube or two?” Ritsuka dares to offer him the sugar cube container, even holding some tongs, just to put the amount he requests in his cup.

“You really want a poisoned tea, right, wonderful Master?~”

Even if they are something that doesn’t exist, we yearn for them, even to make them a reality. No matter how impossible. No matter how painful.

That is why we can never get rid of them.

Even if we forget once the veil of dawn has ended, something of it remains.

“There's so much that is subjective. For example, you were Artoria's Merlin, weren't you? For a moment you were Merlin, that was her truth. There's different Merlins, I mean we have different Artorias here from different eras and classes. You were a different Merlin than the one I know.”

Ritsuka is busy trying different colors. Oui and Gogh got into a discussion on how to best get the tones she was aiming for, and they even went to do some research on their own. The reds of a forest seem familiar yet not quite right, not that Oberon was looking at the notebook.

It has to have a dreamlike feeling, that’s what she wanted, but that’s not easy to pour into a painting.

“What we see as a lie or as truth, it changes with our perception. Your lies and my truths might be different, but it's ok. In the end we have only one perspective. That's why lies and truths can mix, that's why contradictions exist. I mean, that is why you are here.”

“Here's some advice from the bottom of my heart, don't quit your day job, Master. Stick to the world saving and leave the philosophical dissertation to virtually anyone else.”

In the end, does the truth really matter?

Something that can change when you close your eyes. Something that is as fleeting as a moth's life.

Would anything change in the grand scheme of things?

To protect Ritsuka, Chaldea forged a story, one where Romani Archaman was at fault for everything that happened.

To the world that is on the verge of disappearing, that became the truth.

To everyone in Chaldea, the truth is that this girl worked harder than anyone to protect this world.

That was what Sherlock Holmes said once they met. Oberon didn’t like him, but in a way he seems familiar. Holmes is a great detective, but since he keeps everything to himself, he might be wrong the entire time until the last minute.

So it’s not like Oberon can take him that seriously.

Even so, he told him the story of the great journey before Panhuman History was at risk by the Alien God. A story of which he was somehow aware, but it seems different when it is told by someone else.

To Oberon, it was a story of selfish survival. A fitting story of those who fight in the mud to continue existing.

To Holmes, it was a story of humanity bravely fighting to avoid destruction. An unlikely event that might have inspired others. Or rather, that is how the Leonardo Da Vinci from that time would have framed it, since Holmes isn’t an author and the current Da Vinci is someone different now.

The events are there, what changes is our perception of them. Perhaps this is where truths and lies take root, the lie of today becomes the truth of tomorrow.

The lie allows the fake existence to continue even when the dream has already ended.

But in the end, everything will fade, so nothing really matters.

"Well, I don't know if it has a meaning, but doesn't that mean you can give it your own? Just like how I can take your lies the way I want."

"Aren't you a simplistic one? No, perhaps it is that kind of thinking that has let you get this far. What a naive Master Chaldea has. Though it helps you accomplish your goals. "

He is not sure why they are taking tea while chatting, but here he is. Perhaps it is to hide his annoyance, the Master won’t stop until she gets what she wants anyway, so he is just avoiding a pointless squabble.

"You can think whatever you want~ and in any case, even if the feelings of today will be nothing in the future, that doesn't mean they are worthless. Because they affect the you of today and that is the moment when you are alive.”

The joy of living, that is something Oberon can’t understand nor tolerate. It angers him.

Of course, he is an entity of the abyss so how could he comprehend that?

The will of self-destruction, the cessation of existence. That something is so fundamentally wrong that it must wiped out, for there is no way to fix something that crooked.

Faerie Britain wished for him because it had to be wiped away from all records, because it had no way of being salvaged.

Therefore, he can only listen to those words.

(Perhaps it is the envy of not having something? Perhaps it is the bitterness of no longer having something to do, to dream for? Or simple ennui that no matter what, in the end it doesn’t matter?)

Ritsuka ignores his silence, as she continues.

“I don't know but for someone who likes stories you don't seem like you're actually enjoying them.”

“Would you enjoy a story where you fade away like everyone in the lostbelts you have erased? Ah, my bad. Surely, as the winner you can afford to disregard those stories. Silly me, of course you would be able to believe that as the victor you can claim to be the true history. Panhuman history is in the end mankind's right path, after all, and everything else can fade into the abyss.”

Her smile is complex, almost a facade. From one angle it looks like a forlorn frown, from the other a faint smile. She plays with the spoon on her table.

"Hmmm, I wonder..."

Dr. Roman, we finally beat the British Lostbelt. It was unlike any other places we were, and I keep thinking of Percival's words...

I wish you were still here.

The sacrifice of someone can mean the whole world for a single person. The sacrifices of millions can become a mere statistic, a simple cold number to show how bad an event was. In the end, it doesn't matter.

What was once lost will never come back.

The void left in one's soul will never heal, it only becomes more bearable with time.

But even so, that lingering pain is the proof that someone was alive, that they left a mark on the others they met as one looks at the twinkling stars and reminisces of the never-happening-again past.

“Did you know the true opposite of love isn't hate but indifference?”

“Haaah? Perhaps you didn't think so but I was being honest about my suggestion. Thinking too much will only hurt your head. You should only focus on what's in front of you.”

“Whether you love or hate, you end up putting a lot of attention to the object of your affections, but if you're indifferent to it, it ceases to exist. Perhaps your hatred of everything is because there's something you cannot afford to lose.”

Titania was the wife of Oberon in Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. She was the only one who could accept the king's eccentric personality.

But in reality, she was just a creation for the story, a being who was never real.

Of course, there isn't a person like that in the world.

Someone who accepts a hollow entity like me.

“I don’t know, if Arjuna Alter was able to come to terms with his own humanity, well...nevermind. I was just thinking aloud.”

(Ideals are just that.

A concept not belonging to this world.

It is when you reconcile with the flawed reality that you can grasp your happiness, the one you have.)

“Heh-Hahahaha, that's rich, Master!”

This is so sickening.

Only Titania could have loved(tolerated) such an unpleasant existence. Only Titania could have loved(tolerated) a being born of hate, a destructive force whose only purpose is to rend everything to ashes.

But the fact is, Titania doesn't exist. This means no one could accept someone like him.

That is the unpleasant truth.

That is why people are entranced(poisoned) by falsehoods, lies to sweeten the body and protect the soul. It's a sweet elixir to hide from the harsh reality, the ultimate end of the journey of everyone, a pointless, worthless life. Because at the end of the dream, no matter what one has accomplished, it doesn't change the finale of this story and it is doomed to be forgotten.

Just as the one princess from before, who also fell in love with the Fairy King. The one who tried to give fire to his cold body. But he didn't notice this, not even when her snow body had ceased to move, a protection of love.

So in the end, if it's not acknowledged, it is the same as it never had happened.

“Tell me, does it matter to you? Are you going to tell me you know how I feel? That you understand what I'm going through? Come on, tell me your important story, that everything is going to be alright as long as I'm not alone-”

“I can't. I don't know how you feel. Even if we had suffered the same, I wouldn't know how you feel.”

Her words or her smile, the same as before. He doesn’t know which but it cuts him short.

“All I know is the pain of losing someone important to me, but that's not what you're feeling, right?”

The Titania I wish for doesn't exist in this world. The Faerie Britain that gave birth to me no longer exists, even if I have accomplished my goal.

I am merely a dream whose purpose has been fulfilled and thus, the curtain shall be down as I exit the stage.

The things I yearn for are merely dreams. Even so, I hope, because I saw it existed for someone else. For another Oberon, not the one I am.

The illusion of happiness, the hope of a love.

I don't know how it is to not be Oberon, the lying king. The king without any other purpose. The villain that has exited the stage having won, but now even that victory is pointless.

Then, why am I still here?

“For what it's worth, I like you. You're nice company, lies and all.”

“You’re an odd one.”

“I've been told that often.”

“It's not a compliment, you have no taste.”

“You know, for Panhuman history I am the hero, ensuring our world survives. But to everyone else from every lostbelt erased...I am the worst of the worst, the villain that destroys their world.”

Ritsuka traces the notebook on her hands. The contents of the rest could be disclosed but Oberon doesn’t open any of the other pile of notebooks, so they all lie on her bed.

“Patxi cursed me for showing him a world that he thought was happier than his.”

Tears fell from her eyes as she smiled weakly. “I wonder if that was ever the right choice.”

“Panhuman history isn't the perfect utopia you can imagine. Humans seek hatred and war, there's suffering and agony. While some can lead happy lives, there's so many who can't even enjoy a warm meal or think of a future. Kirshtaria saw that, he wanted to make a better world because ours was so imperfect.”

“Why are we still going?”

“Why was ours the correct one?”

“Even now, I don't know. And I'm not sure if I'll ever know. Any justification might seem a rationalization, something to feel less guilty for killing all those people.”

“That is why I cannot forget, I cannot let the history of those lostbelts be erased. Even if I'm the only one who remembers,” her grip on the notebook tightened, “I can never forget them.”

Like a dream, one time Oberon caught sight of what she was drawing, finally reaching the dreamy red hue she long sought, depicting the autumn forest Oberon knew and hated.

The words depicting what happened in Faerie Britain, the stories of Artoria, Morgan, of Barghest, Baobhan Sith and Melusine, of Aurora, of Mike, of Ector, of Knocknarea, of him.

“Even if the rest of the world forgets, I cannot. That's why I want to record as much as I can. I caused them to disappear, remembering all of them is the least I can do.”

“That's guilt for you.”

“...Yes, I can't deny that. I've caused many people to suffer, that is why I cannot stop.”

“You're an idiot. Pursuing a fleeting dream that will only cause you to hurt, as your heart tears itself apart with these thorns you surround yourself with.”

“I guess. But someone has to do it right? But even so…

“I enjoy the moments with everyone here in Chaldea and I can say I'm happy.

But I also feel deep sadness for everything that I have done and continue to do.”

There are many contradicting truths, woven into each other.

Like overlapping threads in a beautiful(horrible) story.

“I could think Panhuman history is the correct one because it was there. There was a reason why it was chosen.”

“And if there isn't? If there is truly no meaning to your journey? That the reason your world was chosen was a mere whim of fate, a sudden lucky roll of the dice? That there is nothing special to your world that makes you worthy of the title of proper human history?”

“Then I guess I will have to make it so that there is one.”

“And if you can't?”

“Just because I can't doesn't mean I shouldn't try.”

“Trying doesn't mean you will succeed. Morgan tried her hardest, but in the end, she still failed, crumbling in despair as her Faerie kingdom burnt to ashes.”

“Well, that will come bite me when the time comes, but for now, that’s all I can do, right?”

In the end, as long as it entertains, does it matter?

What is the purpose of a story? To bring joy(tears)? To break one from that moment of boredom, of despair, and heal the soul even if just a little?

And in the end, does it even matter?

“I like this Saint Graph more.”

It’s been a long time since he has donned the clothes as King Oberon. Once the façade was over, once he could ascend, he has never worn anything but the colors of the depths of the abyss. Anyone else would think they are unsightly, hateful, depressing.

After all, the warmth of King Oberon’s butterfly wings makes children smile, makes people trust him. His monstruous limbs right now are not enchanting.

“I thought you were a butterfly girl. And I have been wearing these ever since, why are you even saying this up until now?”

“I just wanted to say that. I like the fluffy cape and the butterfly wings, but you sound less pained right now. And this outfit is cool too.”

In the end, perhaps Titania isn't meant to be someone who brings the sun to your eyes, with laughter so contagious that she makes the bitterness of a day go away. She's not a neverending warmth on a cold winter, nor a guiding bright star up in the dark sky. She's not the simple to your complicated, the light to your dark, the smile to your frown, the opposite of your miserable existence that brings joy to your life. An illogical being that accepts you in spite of your incompatibility.

Was I wrong all along?

A companion when watching a wonderful(decadent) play.

Someone who walks by your side in a crumbling world.

Someone whose company makes the poison more bearable and hell, tolerable.

Someone who simply loves me for who I am. Who gazed at the abyss, saw the void yet didn't run away.

Ah, this is so laughable, an amateur terrible tragicomedy, a hideous play with no sickeningly sweet ending.

(Perhaps it is because Titania is a wretched creature herself. Or perhaps because Titania's wings have been torn off that she understands a small fragment of you. Even if true understanding is a lie, a pipe dream. Titania has seen her own hell and can sympathize with yours, with the emptiness and resentment you hold. Not fearing it, not judging it. Just accepting you as the flawed existence you are.

If that is the case, then there is nothing beautiful about Titania.)

But even so...

"...You are..."

"Did you say something?"

"No, nevermind."

Ritsuka smiles as Oberon looks away. He grumbles about the cramped space as he hoards the bed, swatting a mosquito away while she writes in her diary. The boring stories she writes that he doesn't care about even if his fingers have traced those letters.

But even so, he stays.

Ah, love is a bothersome thing.

Thank you for reading!

Now, OH BOY WHERE TO BEGIN. Title comes from Debussy's Rêverie. I wanted to play with it, seeing that Oberon's Bond CE is called Pavane for a Dead Princess, which is the title of a melody by Ravel. I am sure it is no coincidence. Both Ravel and Debussy were considered the cornerstones of Impressionism in music, however, they both HATED being labeled like that.

Pavane for a Dead Princess is one of Ravel's solo compositions for the piano. However, unlike what the title implies, Ravel specifically said that it wasn't meant to be a melody of a funeral, but he wanted to evoke the idea of a princess dancing to the pavane. However, some people didn't really listen to him. So in this case, I think that rather than to see Oberon's CE as a funeral to Blanca, it is a way to celebrate her story, even if it didn't end on the happier note we would have wished. You can listen to it here

Now Rêverie is by Debussy and it's meant to feel like a dream, hence the name. The melody became a massive hit, though Debussy later hated this piece because he felt that he had written better pieces but this one was the one that made him famous. Since it was written when he was young, he felt he was still lacking a lot, but the melody became one of his most popular compositions nonetheless. I think that story ties nicely with what we perceive vs what others perceive. You can listen to it here

Now onto the actual fic, I had this vague idea when part 3 was released, especially after all the spoilers about Oberon's true identity. I really wanted to get him, and I was super lucky. In between getting him, his profile and bond lines being translated, I just got possessed to write this as a way to honor and thank him for coming home AND to give him a sort of happy ending after Avalon.

Oberon in that bed is thanks to that comic on Twitter where he is eating chips without any care and the kind reminder of his voice lines that in spite of him constantly complaining, he spends an awful lot of time on our room. Hehehe.

Best of luck if you are pulling for him! And once again, thank you for reading!

#fate grand order #ritsuka fujimaru #obeguda #fgo oberon #oberon vortigern #fgo

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allzelemonz · 3 years

Text

‘Hit If Off’: Oswald Cobblepot X Male Reader

When your friends said you need more socialization you gave him your dirtiest look.

“You’re one to talk, Ed.”

“At least I go to work, you just sit there all day.”

“Work?”

“It may not be a traditional way of employment, but yes.” Ed gave you a look of annoyance over the frame of his glasses.

“Why do you want me to go out so bad?”

“In truth?” Ed raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Ed, tell me.”

“There’s this guy that won’t leave me alone and I need him to stop.”

“You want me to beat him up?” You gave your nerdy friend an odd look. Maybe he was going a bit too far into this whole Riddler thing.

“No, no, I just need him to be obsessed with someone, anyone other than me.”

“Oh, so you have an admirer?”

“Yes.” Ed confirmed.

“And you don’t like that?”

“Indeed.”

“And what is it you want me to do?”

“Just introduce yourself to him, he’ll love you.” Ed made his way to your closet and began throwing things around.

“Woah, wait, what’s in it for me?”

Ed turned to you with a bit of a grin of his face. “Why you, my dear friend, get to be floundered over by a rich man that will never stop loving you if you play it right.”

“Your friend is essentially a sugar daddy, Ed.”

Ed stopped to think for a moment. “I suppose, not much of a daddy.”

You let out a laugh that made Ed blush. He quickly shoved an assortment of clothes at you to get you to stop.

“Shut up and get dressed.”

“Sure thing, Eddie.” You grinned. “Just make sure you keep that daddy-dar under wraps.”

“(Y/n), I mean this in a friendly way, but shut up or that window will become a door.”

“Gotcha.” You nodded along to the half-hearted threat.

Ed had given you one of your standard outfits that you’d wear when you wanted to look attractive. That’s what made him a good friend, he knew you enough to pick an outfit that you would have yourself. He knew how much skin you were willing to show and how many layers you wanted.

“So what’s your stalker’s name?” You asked, now standing in front of a club while Ed picked lint off of your shoulder.

“Oswald.”

“As in Cobblepot?” You asked, pointing up at the club sign.

“Yep.”

“You want me to flirt with the Penguin?”

“He’s your type and you’re his.”

“How is that, Ed?”

“You’re both men.”

“That’s all you got! Really?” You sighed. “Ed, you’re asking me to flirt with a crime lord and the only reassurance that he won’t kill me is that I’m a guy.”

“I never said you had to flirt.”

“Ed!”

“What?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“I forget how socially inept you are sometimes.”

“I am not.”

“File girl.” You fake coughed out.

“Fine, fine, but this idea was more of…”

“Oh, so your villainous persona came up with this?”

“He’s better at social things.”

“That window you mentioned is gonna be your exit the next time you’re at my place.”

“(Y/n), please.” Ed grounded your heywire thoughts. “I really think this is worth it.”

You looked into Ed’s stupid, but truthful eyes and sighed. He really has a puppy-dog face when he tries.

“Fine, but if I die I’m gonna haunt you.”

Ed brought you into the club with a hand on your shoulder so you didn't get separated. The music was Jazz-centric and there were people all around drinking and talking. It wasn’t an overwhelming environment, just a comfortable one. Ed led you to the bar where you recognized the Penguin himself sat at the far end with a half drank glass of whiskey as he fussed over something in a black notebook.

“Oswald!” Ed called.

The Penguin looked up from the book. The sour look that had been on his face disappeared as soon as he saw Ed.

“Edward!’ The Penguin beamed. “I was just wondering where you were.”

“I was just getting my friend.: Ed turned to you. “This is (Y/n).”

Oswald’s eyes moved from Ed’s face to scan over you and there was a moment of lingering when he met your eyes. It took him a few moments to compose himself.

“A pleasure to meet you.” He stuck out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Oswald.”

He had a smile on your face that you couldn't quite tell if it was false or not.

“A pleasure to meet you too.” You shook his hand.

“Now, I have some things to attend to, but (Y/n) is sure to keep you company.” Ed let out his excuse like a child that just wanted to go play.

“Are you sure I can’t help, Ed?” Oswald questioned.

“Nope, just personal business.” Ed explained. “I’ll be back later. You two get acquainted.”

Ed scurried away like a mouse before anything else could be said. Oswald starred in the direction he had gone for a few seconds before he gestured for you to sit. You did so.

“So, how do you know Ed?” The crime lord asked.

“We’ve been friends for years, don’t really remember how we met.” You gave him a small smile. “When he started this whole Riddler thing I wanted to help, so here I am.”

The conversation went on like that for a while. The two of you talking about Ed. But, after a while you started talking about each other. The more you talked to Oswald the more you liked him. He was quite cute and well spoken. You couldn’t help but to get lost in his face as he spoke. He seemed to have forgotten about the little book he was writing in.

“Would you like to move this conversation to my office, (Y/n)?”

Your heart stopped momentarily at the question.

“Sure.” Was all you could force out of your shocked face.

Oswald gathered his things and began to lead you into the back part of the club. You took note of the famous limp that carried his nickname on. Oswald opened the door and shut it behind you. You took your time to peer around the office. It was a modest size for being in the back of a club. You met Oswald by his desk as he sat his things down.

“Did Ed say why he brought you here tonight?” Oswald asked.

“He said that we’d hit it off, that’s all.”

“Forgive me,” Oswald laughed off the odd question. “It’s just in a business like this one has to watch their back.”

“It’s alright, Oswald.”

The man looked over to you with a gleam in his eye that you’d seen when he first saw Ed earlier that night.

“I have an odd request, (Y/n)” Oswald said with certainty.

“A request?” You questioned as Oswald fidgeted where he stood.

“Could you tell me the truth?”

“Of course.” You nodded.

“If I were to kiss you, would you regret it.” Oswald’s way of questioning was odd.

“No.” You answered plainly.

Oswald’s face had grown gradually redder all night but was now the color of a cherry. You took a step closer to him and his eyes met yours.

“May I?” He asked timidly.

You gave him a quick nod. Oswald didn’t waste any time. One hand cupped your cheek while the other went around your waist. His lips met yours in a heated kiss, one he must have been waiting for all night. You fell into place and enjoyed the moment. Oswald was passionate in his action and refused to loosen his hold on you at all.

Your hand went up to his hair. You had been dying to touch it all night. The way it perfectly fell into place made you want to mess it up. Now as your hands went through it you could fell those butterflies in your stomach going crazy. You pulled at his hair lightly and Oswald let out a moan. He pushed you up against his desk and broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Is this what Ed meant by hitting it off?” He asked between breaths.

“Probably.”

“Good.”

Oswald kissed you again. His hands at your waistband now settling a knee between your legs. You pushed yourself up onto his desk and he moved to stand between your thighs. You could feel his hardness against your own as he started to unfasten your pants.

The door creaked open and caught your attention right away. Oswald was about to yell, but calmed himself when he saw it was Ed. You sighed at the sight of your friend, thankfully you were both still fully clothed.

“Well, it seems like you hit it off after all.” Ed smiled to himself. “I’ll, just, uh…” Ed began to close the door.

“Ed!” Oswald called out.

Ed stopped in his tracks. Oswald cleared his throat and turned to you.

“Perhaps it’s best if we stop and get to know one another first.”

“Sure.” You smile at the thoughtfulness. Oswald didn’t want some one night stand, he wanted a relationship.

“I’ll see you both soon.” Oswald announced as he backed away and allowed you to stand.

You gave him a goodbye kiss then made your way to where Ed was waiting.

“See you soon, Oswald.”

#gotham #gotham x reader #Oswald Cobblepot #oswald cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot x male reader #x male reader #gotham x male reader #lime #ed nygma #the penguin #penguin #penguin x reader #penguin x male reader

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theshelbyclan · 4 years

Text

Angel

Summary: You cross paths with famous Thomas Shelby after killing someone he wanted dead, and you can’t help but recognise so much of yourself in this man

(Gif by @nofckingfighting) A/N: The ever-lovely @psych0crybaby requested: good evening my dear. i saw that your request are open again. Could i ask for some Tommy with a total badass reader? Maybe where she saves their asses and no one knows where she is( and she just walks away) and then they see her again and ada explains to them that she mostly kills rapists and guys who harass woman because someone did the same to her when she was in the war? if you are comfortable with, if not have a good evening or day 🌺 I remember the first time I read this request and immediately being drawn to it. I did however want to do it right, you know? Like I really wanted to think about it, so I have. This comes with a warning for anyone familiar with PTSD, and some sexual abuse and assault is mentioned: this may be triggering. Sorry that it took a while to get this out, but I hope you like the result! Words: 4370 *** Breathe in. Look. See. Focus. Remember. Breath out. Throw. The first knife whooshed passed your face and hit the wall opposite you. The second followed quickly, almost magnetically. The third came after a small pause, the silence in which people feel a false sense of safety, and hit the target right in its middle.

“You’re too pretty to be out here in the mud.” “Again,” you told yourself, “there’s four of them”. Everything comes in four, good or bad. So you moved suddenly, ducked and threw three more knives, previously hidden in your sleeves.

“You know you want it.” Like a cat you jumped up onto a roof and mid-air threw three more, taken from your pockets. But the hardest was yet to come. The last man was always hidden, always late, like that last knife. He too swished and betrayed. So from your boots, you took another knife, jumped down suddenly and planted it in the back of the invisible assailant. “Good girl…” The job was done. Now for the real work. “What happened to you?” And you told yourself, “I’m ready.” ***

“What is your concern, Tommy?” “The one minute. The soldier’s minute. In battle it’s all you get.” Thomas Shelby lived his life looking over his shoulder, but when he turned, there was nothing there. You see it happening, everything at once and there’s no avoiding it. It’s always there, right behind you. Like running through a house with the devil hot on your heels, finally finding the way out, but when you step into the garden, it starts all over again: you’re back at your starting point. You see, your body may be outside in the sunlight, but your mind is back at the house. That’s what it felt like, every day. “We live somewhere between life and death.” This is what existing is: always living somewhere between life and death, between sleep and awake. And the nightmares, they bled into the days, taking over slowly. “Is it another war you’re looking for, Tommy?” There was supposed to be one war, to end all wars. But instead, kids were sent out to die in the mud, and for what? All that blood, smoke, tears, sweat and carnage. Men blowing the whistles, boys praying and crying. Was he looking for another war? That would imply the first one had ended. “I’ll remember everything and forget nothing. I’m thinking ahead, thinking of every possibility, remembering everything that is happening…” As if he could forget. The smallest things could trigger his memories, taking him right back. When John was little, he used to be scared of a monster. Ada had told him that: that there was a witch living in the walls that you could only see in the mirrors. John didn’t sleep for weeks after her little story. And now, the monster turned out to be real, except no one believed in it anymore. Still, it was everywhere and you had to be constantly on your guard. Because it’s not just in the walls and mirrors; it’s always right behind you, creeping, slithering, crawling it’s way up your spine… And so he became a machine, no longer a human being, fuelled by whiskey and cigarettes only, always plotting. “Thomas Shelby against the whole bloody world, right?” And so he wrote, “My name is Thomas Shelby and today, I’m going to kill a man.” *** There had been five of you at home. And home was in Small Heath, though you moved house all the time. When the poverty got bad, the family was split up and you and mother went into a boarding house for women, while father and the oldest brothers went into a boarding house for men. You were alright with this, because father was a bad man, but you feared for your brothers. Mother was the sweetest woman to ever live, always making sure you ate before she did. You never noticed her withering away before it was too late. At twelve, you started working. Walking the docks and shipyards was dangerous, so your brothers tried their best to prepare you. They weren’t like the other men in Small Heath. “Take this,” one brother told you on the morning of your first shift, “Hide it, in those boots.” You’d gotten charity boots, the first one in the family! But walking in them still felt uneasy, and now he expected you to slide in a small knife as well? “When someone comes,” he continued, urging you with his fiery eyes, “you stick ‘m. Don’t wait, don’t hesitate and don’t ask any questions. When he comes, you stick ‘m and you keep on sticking ‘m!” This was the first lesson you’d been taught. Four brothers all taught their little sister and each had but one objective: keeping you safe. One gave you the knife, the other taught you how to fight and the third took the beatings your drunk father had intended for you. The fourth hadn’t any strength or knowledge to share, so he kept close. Wherever you went, he followed in the shadows, and it was like having your own guardian angel, made up of filth and smoke. When the war came, they all enlisted. Of course they did: they were good, strong and brave men. You saw them off, one by one, and after waving goodbye to your guardian angel, something inside you snapped. Inspired by their love and courage, you became a nurse and took up a post at the front. You became a guardian angel yourself. *** Tommy was looking for a war. After France, they’d taken over the Shelby enterprise again and he had ambitions of expansion. Still, there were those in Small Heath who’d forgotten about the Shelby’s and he had to re-establish their reputation. “It’s happened again, Tommy,” John said sombrely, during a family meeting. Tommy sighed and dipped his head forwards, “Will he live?” “Yeah,” his brother replied, “but what are we going to do about this?” Polly, the voice of reason, said, “You need to make an example of him, Thomas. Show him who’s in charge. We can’t have a few Irish rebels killing and beating up our runner-boys. It’s bad for business.” Tommy nodded slowly and was formulating a plan as they spoke, “He drinks at the Horse’s Head. That’s where we’ll get him.” “Are you mad?” Arthur questioned, “On any given night there’s at least fifty Irish in there. It’s like a bloody army!” “We’re not scared of some fucking Irish,” John spat. “We’re not,” Tommy looked at his aunt with whom he shared his strategic skills, “but we need to be smart about this.” “Smoke him out,” Polly added, knowing her nephew’s mind so well. “We need an incentive.” Everything was all planned out. Tommy had an explosion, a staged fight and the rum in place. The men would scatter, the police would be elsewhere and their target would run. As the pub would be set on fire, he would literally be smoked out. That’s where they would be. The plan was good, well thought out and each eventually had been dealt with.

When the night came, the first part worked like a well-oiled machine. A small explosion in the shipyards, John’s, had drawn the police away. It would take them a while too, seeing as the Communists held their meetings there. Danny Whizz-bang would be inside the pub, looking both menacingly and vulnerable enough to not attract attention among the rebels. He was doing good tonight; he’d be able to light the fire. Tommy, Arthur and a few other blinders were waiting in the alleyways. Smoke started emerging from the pub and Tommy’s head shot up at the shouts of men. As he was getting ready mentally, he thought: some day, I won’t be the one doing this work. As men started fighting and chaos ensued, he followed one insignificant figure with his eyes. This man ran, frantically, into the protection of one of the dark alleys. Tommy followed and shouted his name. The man turned and his face fell as he recognised the Shelby. He in turn grabbed his gun and pointed it at him, saying, “Don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.” But as Tommy was about to pull the trigger, the man fell forwards. The irritation of an eventuality not anticipated shot through Tommy and as he walked forwards, he saw a small knife sticking out of the Irish’ neck. He died on the spot. His first thought was if he could still pass this off as a killing by the Peaky Blinders, because Polly had been right: they needed to make a statement. Of course he could. His second thought lasted a lot longer and actually drove him to action: who’d done this? The angle of the knife made him look up, towards the roofs. No one was there, but Tommy still ran. As a kid, he used to climb roofs. As an adult, he dug tunnels. It’s funny how both came back to him now. Fearing whomever it was he couldn’t see, he chased the murderer. Once up, he could easily recognise the signs: someone had been on the roofs. There were bits of dust where bricks had been falling, flecks of ash where someone had been smoking and the smell of soap where someone had been waiting. Still, the killer was long gone. *** You weren’t sleeping, but sort of dreaming with one eye open. You did that a lot. Nightmares kept you vigilant, even at night. The boarding house you were living at was positively Dickensian, but you didn’t mind. You came from nothing and had little trouble going back to it. Besides, there was no money coming in at the moment, so you didn’t have the funds for any proper room.

In the dark, you thought of the men on your list. One of the best things about the boarding house was its anonymity. People who lived here were the poorest of the poorest, only surpassed by those on the streets and the working houses. No one asked any questions, no one looked at each other and shame drove people into hiding. The large room was separated into small spaces by a few curtains only, but still, there was some sense of privacy. In the darkness, you could think. The worst thing about the boarding house was the sound. It wasn’t the crying babies, children whining for food or people fighting each other, but the sound of pain. Some women wailed in their sleep and it shook you to your core every time. Your mother had sounded like that. You had too, you knew it. Early in the morning, you left. “Where are you off to, eh?” the old lady who slept next to you asked. In some ways, she was the pauper’s queen and she got away with prying. “Work,” you replied shortly. The old woman laughed a hoarse laugh, “You’re not fooling no one, dearie…” As soon as you walked onto the streets, a calmness came over you. Poverty was familiar, but it frightened you too. It was like a hand around your throat, always squeezing just a little but more. Inside, especially, it was like drowning. In Small Heath, some women had started their first shifts at the factories already and men were shovelling coal into the big machines. Sparks flew and fizzled out in your hair. Soot clung to your already filthy clothing. In other words, nothing about you looked out of the ordinary. The rest of the day was filled with you practising two skills: observing and vanishing. You listened in on conversations everywhere, while timidly looking away when anyone did notice you. Men boasted of their achievements and women complained everywhere. But you listened for any signs of cruelty and found it easily. See, in a city forgotten by civilisation, no one notices cruelty anymore. It’s part of everyday life. You, however, had decided to change that. This was your revenge, or atonement, whichever way you looked at it. One man in particular stood out to you. His eyes were cold and his shoulders broad, and when his wife came to him during his break, he slapped her without warning. Sometimes menace leaves a certain aura and you could sense it in him. When a filthy child came from the factory as well, also on a short break, you motioned the child to come over. “Hey, love,” you said softly. The child didn’t trust you, but his sunken eyes still pleaded, “What?” “Here,” you offered him a bun you’d just stolen, “I need your help.” He hadn’t eaten in days, that much was clear, and with his mouth full of crumbs, he said, “Wiff whaff?” “I’m new here in Birmingham. Where can I get a job?” He pointed, “Ask the foreman.” You smiled gently, “Thanks, love.” “Where’d you get the bun?” he inquired, less shy with each bite. “My husband bought it for me.” “You not hungry?” This child was sweet, so he’d know, “No, you have it. We got more at home.” “Okay,” and he continued absolutely devouring the pastry. Just before he walked off again, you asked him, off-handedly, “That man, over there?” you pointed at the man with stony eyes, “You know him?” The boy fell still, “Yeah. He works here.” “What’s his name?” “Don’t know,” he whispered, “But mum told us to stay away.” “Why?” The kid shrugged, “He’s a bad man I suppose.” “Like those Shelby’s,” you tried, knowing the kid would know them like everyone around here did. It worked. “Nah,” he laughed, “the Shelby’s would never touch a woman!” “Does he?” you asked, eyes narrowing. “Mum says so. Mum says women are scared of him, because he hurts them. All of them.” You nodded slowly, “Why don’t the Peaky Blinders take care of him?” He shrugged again, “Miss? Thanks for the bun, but I really need to get back. I need my job.” “I know,” you urged him, “Go.” In France, you helped the sick and dying. This is what you had come for and you’d given up everything to do it. With the telegram of each brother found dead, you became more focussed on the work. It was like you turned into a machine, running only on adrenaline. Sometimes you would work shifts of 48 hours, simply because the other nurse had collapsed, or because the bodies wouldn’t stop coming in. Fear became second nature and fatigue had to be ignored. But being tired also made vulnerable: you learned this when one of the superior officers followed you into the halls of the makeshift hospital. Remaining on your feet after working for so long was easy, as long as you kept on moving. But when he grabbed you and you paused, your knees started buckling. Maybe it’d been the fear, maybe it was his rank and maybe it was purely that fucking bloody war, but there was no fight left in you in that moment. He had his way with you and you just… froze. Shame and guilt drove you back to England and back into the shadows you retreated. And then, shame and guilt turned into anger and the guardian angel became an avenging angel. You didn’t have to wait long. After his work was done, you followed the man with the cold eyes, watching his every move. All your fears and the kid’s warnings were confirmed in a dark corner of a filthy street. The woman never stood a chance. And so you vowed: you would end him. *** “What’s up with you?” Ada asked pointedly. Tommy’s head shot up and he stared at his sister with vacant eyes. “Thomas Shelby, the man who never eats. A rare biological mystery, he is,” Ada commented sarcastically. He grabbed a fork and picked up a potato, “I eat.” “Hardly,” Polly commented. “I have work to do, so if you ladies don’t mind…” But Ada wasn’t finished, “You’ve been lost in thought all day. Mind sharing it with us?” “No really.”

“Because we’re just women or…”

“Ada!” Tommy sighed, “Something… happened. Something unexpected and I can’t figure out how.”

“And this bothers you.”

There was something deeply infuriating about having a sister who was reading the newspaper, right next to you, but never made eye contact, and still she was absolutely right about everything. So Tommy threw his head back and admitted defeat, “Someone killed a man.”

“It’s Small Heath.”

“Someone I wanted dead, but he got there before me.”

Polly sat back down and leaned forwards, “The Irish? I though we did that.”

“Yes, that is what I had people believe.”

Ada suddenly looked up, “How?”

“I failed to take it into my calculations…”

“No. How was the Irish killed?”

Tommy blinked a few times, “A knife. Thrown from the roof.”

His sister smiled faintly, didn’t say a word and then went back to her newspaper.

“Ada…” Tommy growled, “If you know something, tell me.”

“Why? I thought you boys were taking care of business now.”

He looked at his aunt for support, almost desperate, but saw from her face that he could hope for little sympathy there.

“Fine, what do you want,” he demanded.

“Respect,” Ada said coldly.

“You have my respect.”

“Good,” she slowly flipped the page, “Now tell me you need me.”

Polly’s smirk grew into a grin and Tommy cursed all women, right there and then.

So he cleared his throat, “Ada, please, tell me.”

“It’s almost like it’s physically painful for him, isn’t it?” Polly said conversationally to Ada.

“Fucking hell…” Tommy groaned, “Ada, I fucking need your help. Please just tell me what you know!”

“Fine,” she abruptly closed the newspaper, “You need to go to that pub in Digbeth.”

“The one by the water?” Tommy frowned.

“That’s the one. Next to that boarding house that should’ve been closed years ago. That’s where you’ll find your killer.”

Immediately, he stood up. Because even though he thought he’d been subtle about it, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the incident for days now. The killer, whoever he was, had taken over his thoughts entirely. It was dark outside already, but still early enough for the pubs to be open. He’d go there at once.

“Tell her I said ‘hi’,” Ada called after him as he left.

And Tommy retraced his steps slowly, “‘Her’?”

“Her.”

He paused for a second, but when nothing else came, “You know they don’t allow women in pubs.”

“They do her,” Ada chuckled.

“Ada, stop playing these fucking games!” he shouted, as he threw down his cap in anger.

She, however, didn’t even blink and repeated, “Her. It’s a woman who killed your Irishman. All the women here know her; she takes care of a certain kind of man for us. She doesn’t want it known and she rids the world of bastards, so we leave her be. It all works out.”

Tommy turned to Polly, “Did you know of this?”

“I’ve heard of her, yes.”

“Then why the fuck has no one told me before?”

Polly sent a stern gaze at her nephew from over her teacup, “I thought you weren’t interested in women’s business.”

***

When you walked into the pub, a small nod to the man behind the bar was all that was needed. Dressing like a man had many advantages and this was definitely one of them. Still, he knew you were a woman, but after helping him out one night, you were allowed in. So you sat in the corner and became one with the furniture, drinking your whiskey in silence.

And then it happened. One man, who had no business being here, walked in. Thomas Shelby of the Peaky Blinders was considered royalty in Small Heath, so why would he be here, in this grimy little cellar pub?

The thought that he came looking for you never even crossed you mind at first. He leaned over the bar and ordered whiskey, asking a few more questions you couldn’t hear. You tried to listen more closely, but the more you did so, the more inaudible his words seemed to become.

Suddenly, he turned and looked you right in the eyes. Without a second thought, you jumped up, kicked the table towards him and made your way to the door.

“Fuck,” you heard him ground out, but still he was quick. In a flash, he had the door barricaded and a gun pointed at your head.

“Out!” he commanded everyone but you.

You felt for the reassuring blades under your clothes and relaxed a little.

“Now, Miss…” he started after everyone had left.

But you didn’t plan on being interrogated, so the first knife whooshed passed his head: a warning.

Thomas Shelby froze. Then it was like an animal awoke in him and he lunged forwards, tackling you down with him. While you were struggling, you tried to plant a second knife into his leg, but he rolled away just in time. With big eyes he stared at the weapon now stuck in the floor.

And so you were standing opposite each other, weapons of choice pointed at each other’s heads.

“Alright,” he said after a while, holding up his hands in a pacifying manner, “There’s no need to fight.”

“Spoken by a man who knows he will lose,” you replied, without missing a beat.

“You want a fight?” Tommy said quickly, “Then fight me like a man. No gun, no fucking knives. If my sister is right about you, you’ll fight me like a man.”

With that you scoffed and threw away the knives, right next to his head, into the door. It gave you such pleasure to see him shudder with each one, but your face betrayed nothing.

“Now what?” you asked.

“You tell me.”

“Fine,” you sighed and punched him in the face, hard.

As his head shot back, you noticed a flicker of surprise in his features, but he quickly recovered and his face turned emotionless yet again.

Your triumph didn’t last long. If anything, you arrogance had distracted you, so the three blows that followed from his fists came out of nowhere. One to the nose, one to the chin and the last one square in the jaw. Thank God you weren’t vain.

You took a breath in, made yourself focus and quickly jabbed him two times, before hitting him right in the eye with a mean left hook.

“Jesus Christ…” he muttered, “Who the fuck taught you how to fight like that?”

“My brothers,” you replied, before you could stop yourself.

Tommy held up his hands and his two punches to your gut literally took your breath away. Meanwhile, he said, “Why aren’t they here to defend you now, eh?”

“Do I look like I need to be fucking defended?” With a sudden kick you were certain you cracked at least on of his ribs.

Wheezing, he leaned over, but managed to grab your leg in the process and flipped you over onto the ground, “Brothers still do.”

“They’re dead,” you said from the floor, “the Somme,” and with one quick motion, you’d tackled him with your legs, “What about you?”

“The Somme too. Verdun…”

Before he could recover, you climbed on top of him and started pounding his pretty face with your fists. Unfortunately, he quickly bucked you off and hit you with a nasty uppercut, which made you wonder about your teeth.

You crawled back a little and felt with a hand at your mouth: blood. Tommy leaned against the wall and was still panting, lightly tracing a hand over his ribs. The chaos subdued and you both rested.

“Are we done?” he growled.

You stared at him with a look that told him you could go on for hours like this, “What is it that you want?”

“I just want to talk.”

Quickly, you started thinking out your options. Clearly, he knew who you were and evidently, you’d killed the wrong person this time. Really, it was bound to happen at some point.

“Who was it?” you asked, “the one you didn’t want dead.”

“I did want him dead,” he said as he slowly lifted his cigarette case from his pocket.

“Then what’s the problem?”

He smiled a little and the gesture was so unexpected that the feeling it gave you caught you completely off-guard, “I wanted to be the one to kill him.”

You furrowed your brows, thought back and suddenly nodded slowly, “The Irishman.”

He pointed at you with his cigarette in hand, “That’s the one.”

In the silence that followed, you watched this man, this broken boy. His eyes started glazing over and you knew he drifted off to placed in the distant past. As he smoked slowly, you recognised the signs of a flashback so well and you suddenly became more curious than ever about this man.

He saw the same thing in you evidently, because out of the blue he said, “You and me. I think we understand each other.”

“Do we?” you said in a voice that demanded distance.

He nodded a little, “We kill.”

You laughed a cold laugh, “Are you insane like me?”

“Maybe I am…”

“Or just in pain like me?” you added.

He didn’t speak for a long time, like he was thinking what to say next, but then, suddenly, he broke the pregnant silence. “Who hurt you?” he asked, in a voice so low it was almost inaudible.

You leaned forwards and locked eyes with him, fire burning inside them, “Everyone.”

Tommy sat back and offered you a cigarette, but soon realised you wouldn’t take it from his hands without expecting abuse from them. So he threw it your way and you grabbed it gratefully. When you lit it, the two of you leaned against the wall in the same manner, postures similar.

“It’s time,” he announced, looking up at the ceiling.

You cocked one eyebrow, “Is it?”

“The minute is almost up.”

“And how does it end?”

He sighed, “With names. You’ve beaten me. I’m no longer Mr. Thomas Shelby. It’s Tommy now.”

And you smiled at him softly and replied with your own vulnerability, “Y/N.”

***

Masterlist

#Thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders #ada shelby #ada thorne #polly gray #polly shelby #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders angst

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natromanxoff · 3 years

Text

25 - Just Chatting...

Hello one and all.

It's been a long time since I graced these pages and, believe it or not, nothing much has been happening in my life, apart from the odd soiree or two. Winter has finally left us and spring has sprung, and it's nice to see the sun again. Let's start by wishing my old mate a happy birthday and I hope you all had a little drinkie for him, I know I did. In fact I got legless, he would have been proud of me. Whenever we were in London there was always a party at Fred's on his birthday, be it a handful of friends, or one where he invited half of Britain, but which ever one it was there was always a good time to be had and a lot of chaos. One year he actually took over Pikes Hotel in Ibiza and chartered a private plane to fly his friends in. Roger and myself were already on the island recording some of his solo stuff so we didn't have far to travel to the bash. When I say we were working, it's kind of true as we spent a lot of time on his boat "Ga Ga" whizzing around having lunch and fun. The party was held outside around the swimming pool, now is that an invite for trouble or what? There were hundreds of balloons hanging from every available fixture, and of course there is always an idiot that thinks he's a clown. This particular clown, who will remain nameless, decided it would be funny to light one of the balloons, and needless to say the whole lot went up in flames. Phoebe and Crystal to the rescue. We had to get this "fire" off the wooden rafters before the whole hotel went up in smoke, so we were pulling bits of string while burning rubber was dripping down on us. I was so traumatised by the whole event I had to have another drink ....... a lame excuse I know, but hey, it's my story. Back to the pool. Edwin Shirley, of trucking fame and also an all round good guy after a few too many, decided to have a swim, so he removed his clothing and was flapping around the pool when some daft countess told him to get dressed and behave himself. Wrong move lady. Edwin was not impressed by his telling off and threw her in, and she was even less impressed with that and started ranting and raving, much to the amusement to the rest of the party hounds. She left with her tail between her legs and didn't look at all glamorous in her soaking wet dress, running makeup and failed hairdo. We continued till mid morning and went straight to the airport and caught a flight home. Thanks F for the great parties and good times, you will never be forgotten.

I still get asked a lot if I'm gonna write the "Real" story about Queen. Well the answer is no, and the reason is that the guys gave me a great job and a great life and I have far to much respect for them, their wives/girlfriends, children and families to tell the world what we got up to in private. I feel that is our business and ours alone. Most of us are all in relationships and telling tales could make life awkward for a few people, band and crew alike. I'm sure at some point in time someone from the organisation will write a book, have 5 minutes of fame and make a quick buck, but it sure as hell won't be me, and I'll still be able to sleep at night and when I see the guys I will still be free to say, "Wanna beer MATE."

I've had a few questions asked me that I'm gonna answer quickly.

First off is "Do you have any stories about Freddies cats? (ripping furniture etc.)" Here's a good reply, No. So moving right along, "Of all the famous people you've met, who impressed you the most?" Tricky one this. After years in this "Biz" they all become "Just normal people," and some become good pals, but on one occasion I was in Paul McCartneys studio and I was handed his violin bass and I was sitting there holding it when someone said, "Paul is left handed, hold it like he would." When I turned it around, still taped in the cutout was the Beatles set list from their days in Hamburg, now that impressed me.

Deaky and myself were the only two reggae lovers in the outfit, and Bob Marley turned up to see the show at Madison Square Gardens. Strange choice of show for Bob, but he loved Another one bites the dust, and he happened to be in New York on a stopover on his way to Germany for laser treatment. Show time and our intro tape was playing, and someone told JD that Bob was in the audience, so he cranked his bass up and played "Lively up yourself" over the tape. This was very possibly the last time Marley ever heard this played as he died shortly after. I didn't get to meet him, but I did get to meet Tyrone Downie, Bobs keyboard player in the Wailers, and Tyrone and myself got up to all sorts of mischief that night. RT on the other hand hates reggae music, but I did manage to drag him to the Circus Krone in Munich to see Peter Tosh. I loved it, he hated it. I look at this as payback because years before he insisted that I went to Hammersmith Odeon to see Laurie Anderson, of O Superman fame. This show he loved, but I put it alongside Cher as one of the worst concerts I have ever seen. Needless to say I have also met a couple of stars that I didn't see eye to eye with. Like the American rock star we encountered in a club one night, and he was such a pain I had to take him into the toilets to have a quiet word with him. He finally got the message so I released my hand from around his neck and let him drop back down to the ground. To finish this segment I wanna tell you something that Bev Bevan said. Bev was the drummer with ELO, and them and us were touring the US at the same time, and as it turned out, staying in the same hotel in one city. Roger and myself were leaving the hotel and waiting for the elevator. When the doors opened Bev was in there and him and RT said their hellos. Rog then said, "Bev, this is Crystal, he looks after me." Bev turned to me, shook my hand and said, "Pleased to meet you. If it wasn't for guys like you, guys like us wouldn't be where we are today." He didn't need to say that, and was genuine when he did. I wasn't impressed with meeting him, but he is certainly in my top ten of nicest people I have ever meet.

Over the last few months I've spent a lot of time in the Chatroom, and I highly recommend it to you all as it can be a bit of a laugh. For anyone who has never visited the room please remember a couple of things, if you come in and start swearing you will be kicked out. I know, it happens to me all the time. Also don't come in and start going on about knowing axemen and murderers and other such garbage, cause that also warrants a kicking. Some buffoon from Ireland, who went by the name of "Death" turned up with an attitude and was going on about how f***ing awesome Queen were at Slane Castle. He was not known by anyone in there so I asked him to watch his language. He said he was the Grim Reaper and could do and say what he liked, so I told him otherwise and he was most put out when I kicked him. What a fool. A while ago there was some prat who called himself F***queen, good name eh! Anyway, he/she/it was picking on a lovely young lady called Raisa, and was saying some awful things to her and completely freaked her out, so I went to her defence and FQ turned the attention my way. As far as I'm concerned it's only letters on a screen and it didn't phase me at all, but at least he/she/it gave up on Raisa. In all fairness to FQ, whoever you may be, he/she left a message on the Bulletin Board saying sorry to Raisa and myself and would never do it again. So FQ, from the both of us, thanks for the apology, we accept it. What other weirdos have we had? Well, there was a brightspark who decided it would be funny to use the nickname QueenRshite, another bad move from this person who was honoured with a ban.

While in there I've seen a lot of friendships made, and a couple that have fallen apart. I got a private message one evening from a very drunk girl who, how shall we phrase this, offered me her body and wanted to do all sorts of naughty things to me, I thanked her and declined...must be getting old or something. I have also witnessed relationships being made and, usually there is a lot of humour involved, but needless to say some arguments do occur. I have also seen some of the daftest things said. One guy was so convinced that one of the regulars was either Deaky or she was chatting with him in private that he actually started tracking her every move on the net. He also told me about some highly illegal activities he was up to concerning the band. I wouldn't have thought I was the best person to tell such stuff to, and needless to say I had a go at him. Just to add to his stupidity he's been recently boasting about his affair with an underage girl, and I reckon if he had any more sense he would be half witted. Having mentioned all the twits I'd like to say a quick hello to all the regulars, White Queen and Killer Queen, the lovely girls Blue Rock and Rannnnnnni, SQJan, Mayflower and her boys, Farookh (aka Leroy Brown) MarshMallow, the three Tigers - Babe, Lily and Stripes and the mighty Falc, also to all the rest who I haven't mentioned by name, you know who you are. I'd also like to say hi to Daddy Cool who is the singer in the Dutch cover band Miracle, and Dad, if you never make it as a singer you could make a great career from being a stand up comedian. Finally an extra special hello to the gorgeous MTB, who is about to make an honest man of me ;)

Before I go I'm sure I don't need to remind anyone of a certain date in November that is engraved in all of our minds. And I know that a lot of you will be heading to Garden Lodge to leave flowers. I don't wanna preach and tell you what to do, and I know flowers are a nice gesture, but they do die and the only people to really benefit from this is the florist. This year lets all give a donation, no matter how small, to Aids research, this way the cash will be used to try and stamp out this awful disease. If you really wanna leave flowers, buy a smaller, cheaper bunch and donate the balance of what you would have spent to these charities. It's been said a million times before but it is true, Every penny counts.

As always, Loadsa Love.

Crystal

#queen #queen band #freddie mercury #john deacon #peter freestone #crystal taylor #crystal's tales

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imkylotrash · 3 years

Text

Fading

Pairing: Musa x reader

Request: I’d love a Musa x fem reader. Maybe something angsty with fluff. Anonymous

A/N In my defense, the anon who requested this did say angst with fluff and not fluff with angst 😂

Tagging: @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @grey-girl @intoanothermind

“I got you breakfast, sleepyhead. Wake up.” You set the tray down on the table next to her bed before sitting down on the side of the bed. She groans making you chuckle. Mornings have never been her thing and frankly, not yours either. But you wanted to do something special for your anniversary and since it’s limited what you can do while at Alfea, you figured breakfast in bed would be a cute thing to do. You give her a minute to open her eyes before handing her a plate.

“This is lovely. Thank you,” she says with a raspy voice still trying to wake up. Terra has made herself scarce to give you guys a private moment which is very hard to come by when you live in a suite with four other girls.

“Happy one-years,” you smile leaning in to kiss her. You notice her confusion but she’s quick to cover it up.

“You too,” she says sitting up properly. You decide to ignore it and assume it’s just from waking up and being a little disorientated. You both munch away on the pancakes and you feed her a strawberry which does not go at all like in the movies where it’s seductive and sexy. Instead you both crack up having a laughing fit for five minutes.

“Thank you for this, baby. Really.” Musa gives you a quick peck and head for the showers. She stops at the door looking back at you.

“Aren’t you coming?” she asks as if it’s the most obvious thing. You follow her enjoying much more than breakfast. Afterwards, you both head for classes but you meet up once you’re both free to talk a walk around the grounds. It’s the perfect day filled with all the couple stuff you always thought you hated. Meeting Musa had made you into quite the simp to be honest but you found that you didn’t mind it all that much. It was your first real relationship and the logic part of your brain knew the statistics but your heart was too filled with love for Musa. You couldn’t ever imagine not feeling this way about her. Which is also why it hurt so much when Musa started pulling away. You thought you’d done something to hurt her but whenever you asked she said she was fine.

“Have you noticed anything off about Musa lately?” you ask Terra one day. You’ve been sitting on Musa’s bed for the last hour waiting for her making casual conversation with Terra but you can’t keep it to yourself anymore. You have to get someone else’s opinion about it before you lose your mind.

“Off how?”

“What are you hiding?” you ask knowing her well enough to know that she only rearranges flowers when she’s nervous or has a secret to keep. You never thought Musa would talk to Terra before you but apparently a lot of things has changed these past few weeks. At your anniversary everything seemed fine but now you weren’t really sure of anything anymore.

“Me? I’m not hiding anything,” Terra nervously laughs confirming your theory.

“Terra, please. I just need to know that she’s okay.” You wish you could be having this conversation with Musa herself but she’s been AWOL all day.

“Please just talk to her,” Terra says and it’s clear she wants to stay well out of this but you’re not letting her go that easy.

“I’ve barely seen her for the past week. How am I supposed to talk to someone who’s avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you.” You spin around to find Musa in the doorway watching you and Terra. She drops her bag by the bed but doesn’t walk over to you.

“Can you give us a minute?” she asks and Terra makes a quick exit probably thankful she’s not going to be a part of what happens next. You keep quiet waiting for Musa to speak while Musa refuses to even look at you. How did you become strangers when you could’ve sworn you’ve never known anyone as intimately as you have Musa?

“I’ve just needed some space.” A brick falls onto your chest and crushes your heart. You’ve forgotten how to breathe. Is this what dying feels like? Even now you catch yourself trying to dim your feelings so as not to overload Musa even though she clearly hasn’t considered your feelings these past few weeks.

“What do you mean space?” you whisper scared your voice might break.

“Just that I’ve needed some time to be me,” she says but that’s not all. When Musa lies, she always taps her left hand with her right index finger. You first noticed it when she would lie to Terra and say she loved all the plants.

“Tell me the truth,” you plead, “did I do something to push you away?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then how is it?! Because all I know is that I’ve been trying to pull you closer and you keep pushing me away.” You’ve been so busy worrying that something was wrong that you haven’t had time get upset. But now that you’re finally talking, you’re not about to be dismissed with a stupid excuse for what’s been going on.

“You’re suffocating me!” Her outburst shocks even her. You were wrong when you assumed the pain before was how it felt like to die. This is what is feels like. How do people survive heartbreaks? Is there a guide somewhere that can help you restart your heart?

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” Musa says wishing she could take it all back but that’s the thing about words. They hit like knives and once they’re lodged in a person’s heart, you can’t remove them. You close your eyes feeling memory after memory hit you. Musa and you giggling as you watch Stella change into yet another of her “famous outfits”. Late night phone calls over the summer when you went to stay with your parents. That time you stole a bottle of wine and stayed out all night watching the sunrise.

“I don’t get it. When did my love for you start to suffocate you?” Don’t cry, don’t cry, you repeat over and over not wanting to give into your sobs just yet.

“It happened slowly. You’ve always been my safe place when everyone’s feelings became too much but then your feelings started to overcloud my own. And I just had to get away from it.”

“So I pushed you away by loving you too much, is that it?” You look over at Musa hurt to see that she looks just fine. When did she stop loving you?

“It just got too loud. I felt like I couldn’t breathe around you. And slowly my own feelings for you started fading.” She wants to make you understand it but you’re not ready to accept the fact that one day Musa woke up and decided she didn’t love you anymore.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore.” You gather your things and walk right past her. You want to look back and see if she’s as upset as you are, but you already know the answer to that. When the sobs come this time, you don’t have any energy left to fight it.

#musa x reader #musa blurb #musa gif #musa imagine #winx musa #fate the winx saga #fate the winx club #fate winx club #winx saga #winx club #fate winx #fate

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wienerbarnes · 3 years

Text

Much Ado About Nothing (4/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,608

Warnings: enemies to lovers, au series, some nervous thoughts, fruit

A/N: lot of steve in this one! and ooooo wedding next chapter👀

MAIN MASTERLIST | MUCH ADO MASTERLIST

Steve anxiously paces around the suite room that him and Sharon share, creating grooves in the floor waiting for her return.

As much as Steve loves fighting for what’s right, he hates this kind of confrontation.

She wouldn’t do this to me. Why would she do something like this to me? If she were cheating, why would she agree to marry me? Was it because there were a lot of people around? But, still, couldn’t she have told me in private if she wasn’t ready to get married, yet? It doesn’t make sense.

Every minute that passes feels like an hour and Steve can’t stand to just wait around for Sharon to get back from dinner. Or her affair. No! Her dinner! She can’t be cheating this has to be some kind of mistake!

“That’s it,” Steve doesn’t like infringing on the privacy of others, and he realizes that this makes him that kind of a fiancée , “F.R.I.D.A.Y., where is Sharon’s phone, right now? Can you track it? And where it’s been?”

“Yes, Captain. One moment.” The A.I. responds.

“Agent Carter’s private phone has been located at Le Bernardin, and has been at this location for approximately 114 minutes. Would you like me to contact her?”

“No! No! Don’t send anything! Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

He was right! He knew Sharon wouldn’t cheat on him! And, as happy as he is to be assured of his future bride’s loyalty, an unanswered question still remains. Who were the people that John thought was Sharon and another guy?

Everything seemed a little… staged? He sees John every once in a while because he works in the lab with Bucky’s girl, but otherwise, he doesn’t really know anything about him. Why would he go out of his way to tell Steve his supposed affairs in his love life? Based on what Sam has told him, he’s not the kind of guy that’s just looking out for someone that way.

He knows John has struggled a bit around here, especially with everything that comes with having a brother that’s pretty famous. And because of all of this, he wants to believe John was doing this out of the goodness of his heart, but he just… can’t. Something just doesn’t feel right. Like it was being done on purpose.

“Is my wedding being sabotaged?” Steve asks aloud to the empty room.

…

It’s a bit childish, he knows. Pretending to be asleep in their bed as he awaits Sharon’s return, her On My Way! text sitting unanswered on his phone. Jeez, he grew up picking fights with people twice his size and now fights Nazis for a living and he’s scared of an argument with his girlfriend. Or, fiancée .

So, he’s choosing to hide instead. He knows she would never be unfaithful to him, and that’s not what he wants to talk to her about. She’s so, so smart, and she can help him figure out who exactly is behind trying to create heat between them, and if it is John like he thinks, she can be the one to help him figure out what to do.

He suddenly hears her steps down the hall outside the room. He pushes himself deeper into the bed, hoping the mattress will swallow him whole so he can just emerge on his wedding day and not have to deal with the threat of someone trying to break the two of them up.

She removes her shoes at the door and even though he isn’t looking at her, he knows she’s taking off her earrings and moving towards the dresser to replace them in her jewelry box, as she always does when she gets home.

“Why are you pretending to be asleep?” She whispers into the dark room.

“How did you know?”

“You snore like a bear, babe.” She turns, a gentle smile on her face, and sits beside him on his side of the bed.

She leans down and pecks him on the lips as a hello, and he can smell the scent of bittersweet wine and cheesy pasta sauce, the smell of basil surrounding her. She smells like her favorite Italian restaurant, Le Bernardin, where she was tonight.

Any nerves Steve had has since vanished now that’s she’s pressed her sweet lips to his; her mere presence in the room calming him immensely.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on? Hope you’re not getting cold feet.” She scratches softly through his hair, and her joke comes out as just that - a joke. Because the thought of either of them having doubts about their love for each other is hilarious.

“I gotta tell you about something that happened tonight.” Steve finally tells her.

It’s time to get to the bottom of this.

…

You feel as though you might be more nervous than Sharon, the night before her wedding. You know she went out to dinner, and is probably cuddling with Steve on their last night together as fiancées. Meanwhile, you lie awake in your bed, the thought of going to a wedding so… displeasing.

You haven’t had the best luck with love. You’re grateful to not have encountered someone who hits you, but you have dealt with the manipulators, the gaslighters, the mental and emotional abusers, and the occasional stalker.

Other people tell you that not everyone is like that, and you tell yourself that, too. So you keep trying, keep dating, only to be disappointed once more. It’s exhausting. And it makes you hate love. And it clearly doesn’t seem to like you much, either.

So, as unbelievably happy as you are for your two best friends, you can’t help but dread tomorrow night. The light, dreamy colors of the ballroom, the sweet vows, the slow dances, the happy tears of pure joy.

You hate to admit because you know it’s wrong, but you’re jealous. And it’s less than twenty-four hours before the wedding and you don’t see how you’ll fix any of your problems in that time frame. So instead, you’ll lie here awake, lost in your thoughts, until you eventually fall asleep from utter weariness. And tomorrow, you’ll smile for your friends, and you’ll join in the dances, and then you’ll shed your own share of tears. But deep down, you won’t be able to help being a little sad.

What you think makes it worse, is that, as aware as you are based on your past experiences that relationships will fail you, you’ve done it to yourself again. And not only have you put yourself in the position again, but you’ve done it with someone who teased you, mocked you, and annoyed you ruthlessly here at the tower. You couldn’t have chosen better.

You hate relationships, you hate love, and yet, here you are, longing for one, wishing for one, dreaming for one, just looking for any kind of sign -

A soft knock echoes in your room and you glance at the small clock on your nightstand, 13:05. You roll over and stand up out of bed, your large shirt falling to cover midway on your thighs, socks padding across the floor.

You open the door to reveal Bucky, a pair of cotton shorts and a sweatshirt covering his own body, what you assume are his pyjamas, and he tucks a strand of hair behind his ear before asking,

“Do you like fruit?”

“... Did you knock at my door at one in the morning to ask me if I like fruit?” You ask.

“No. Well - yes. I, uh, I needed to make myself busy, so, I, uh, cut up some fruit, but now I have too much. Do you want some?” He explains. He almost looks… shy. And his shyness is what softens you enough to agree.

It’s a part of Bucky’s nightly routine to have trouble sleeping. And it’s been even worse over the couple of days now that he has so many new feelings to think about. To stress about.

The kitchen is silent as the two of you stand across from each other at the island, munching away at the mixed fruit cut into a large bowl.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” Stop being so catty! Just talk to him! No wonder your relationships fail, you’re always so mean!

“Why do you hate me?” He asks.

A small pause before you answer, “I don’t hate anyone.”

“Well, you certainly don’t like me.” He responds. You have no idea.

“And you certainly don’t like me.”

He picks up a piece of strawberry before replacing it back in the bowl. “Look. I only didn’t like you because you didn’t like me. What else was I supposed to do?” He argues.

“Well, I only didn’t like you because you didn’t like me! What was I supposed to do? I didn’t do anything to you!”

“And I didn’t do anything to you!”

Old habits die hard, the two of you realize as your bickering comes so naturally. He goes to continue the arguing when two people suddenly enter the kitchen and turn on the lights.

Steve and Sharon in their pyjamas stare at the two of you, anger clouded in your faces over what seems to be a bowl of fruit.

“Is that fruit?” Steve asks.

“We have a problem,” Sharon interrupts, “It involves the wedding and John.”

“The wedding?”

“Sam’s little brother?”

You and Bucky question, respectfully, the argument from before forgotten.

“I’ll explain, come on.” Sharon tells them before walking back towards the private rooms, seemingly to retrieve Nat, in order to get everyone’s help to figure out the next plan of action.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #earths mightiest heros more like earths mightiest detectives amiright

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miserablesme · 3 years

Text

The Les Miserables Changelog Part 2: 1985-1986 West End

Hello, everyone! This is the latest edition in my attempt to chronicle all of the musical and lyrical changes which the show Les Miserables has undergone over the years. Today, we look at the differences between the later of the two available Barbican preview audios (more on that in Part 1) and the West End variant of the musical as it existed in 1986. Only one rather poor quality audio is available of the show's pre-Broadway, post-Barbican form (though a friend of a friend has multiple masters from the era that she apparently keeps meaning to digitize). It is known to come from 1986, but the exact date remains a mystery. As such we cannot know when exactly most of the changes might have been made.

Reportedly (according to The Complete Book of Les Miserables) the majority of these refinements were made between the closing of the Barbican show and the opening of the West End one. However, some further refinements were doubtless made during the Barbican previews, and some likely were made between the opening of the West End production and whenever the audio was recorded. With all that cleared up, let's get started!

As I mentioned in Part 1, the very early Barbican previews of the opening "Work Song" featured this chain of lyrics (no pun intended):

I’ve done no wrong

Sweet Jesus, hear my prayer

Look down, look down

Sweet Jesus doesn’t care

I killed a man

He tried to steal my wife

Look down, look down

She wasn’t worth your life

I know she’ll wait

I know that she’ll be true

Look down, look down

She’s long forgotten you

As has also been established, later previews removed one sequence of lines to create the following exchange:

I’ve done no wrong

Sweet Jesus, hear my prayer

Look down, look down

Sweet Jesus doesn’t care

I killed a man

He tried to steal my wife

Look down, look down

She wasn’t worth your life

However, by 1986 another sequence was removed and the originally removed one was added back then. Thus, the still-current lyrics as of today are as follows:

I’ve done no wrong

Sweet Jesus, hear my prayer

Look down, look down

Sweet Jesus doesn’t care

I know she’ll wait

I know that she’ll be true

Look down, look down

She’s long forgotten you

A much better choice of cuts in my opinion. The point of the opening scene is to present the prisoners sympathetically, as comparatively innocent victims of an overly brutal and elitist police system. Establishing a member of the chain gang as literally being a murderer doesn't really help send that message!

Everything stays the same until "Fantine's Arrest". The Barbican previews feature this sequence:

(FANTINE)

There's a child who sorely needs me

Please monsieur, she's but that high

Holy God! Is there no mercy?

If I go to jail she'll die

(TOWNSPEOPLE[?])

Take this harlot now this minute

Let there be a full report

Let her go back in the morning

Let her answer to the court

(FANTINE)

Gentle Jesus! Won't you save me?

Are there tears enough to cry?

(JAVERT)

It's the same pathetic story

Please monsieur, my child will die!

I have heard such protestations...

By the 1986 recording, everything between "Take this harlot" and "Please monsieur, my child will die!" has been totally removed. I have a bit of a soft spot for that sequence, though I can't earnestly say the musical lost anything by removing it. Indeed Javert comes across as unbelievably heartless there!

As Part 1 pointed out, the earlier Barbican preview had Valjean shout "You know where to find me!" at the end of "Who Am I?", while the later preview did not. The 1986 recording interestingly reinserts that line, but now Valjean speaks it much more casually, without the slightly cheesy passion of the first recording. This makes me wonder whether or not it was initially removed because it was hard to take seriously, and a calmer rendition was reinstated as a compromise? Who knows.

A subtle change occurs at the beginning of the "Confrontation" sequence. During the Barbican previews, the number opens with a few notes being played and then repeated. However, by the 1986 recording the notes do not repeat. It goes straight into Javert's announcement (which Roger Allam has now learned to sing on time!) after the notes play the first time. The sequence would stay this way for quite awhile before being further shortened - more on that in a later edition!

We now go to the subsequent number, Little Cosette's famous "Castle on a Cloud" song. The Barbican previews give her a few lines before the main number starts (sung in a similar tune to her remarks about Mme. Thenardier's arrival at the end of the song):

They’ll come back any minute

And I’m nowhere near finished

Sweeping and scrubbing and polishing the floor

It’s the same every day, oh please!

Don’t let Madame hit me again

I should be used to it, but then

I know a place where nobody has to work too hard

And where I won’t be lonely again

These lines, taken closely from the original French concept album, don't really add much to the number plot-wise that won't be stated later except for more explicit confirmation that Mme. Thenardier is abusive. Perhaps partly for this reason, by the 1986 recording these lines are removed, and after the opening instrumentals it goes straight into the number we all know.

As I previously mentioned in Part 1, the later recording I have of the Barbican previews cut out the following lines during the preamble to Master of the House. I originally mistakenly claimed that the cuts occured after Thenardier's verse, but in actuality that verse too is removed.

(THENARDIER)

My band of soaks, my den of disollutes

My dirty jokes, my always pissed as newts

My sons of whores spend their lives in my inn

Homing pigeons homing in

They fly through my doors

And their money's good as yours

(CUSTOMERS)

Ain’t got a clue what he put into his stew

Must’ve scraped it off the street

Hell, what a wine

Châteauneuf de Turpentine

Must’ve pressed it with his feet

Landlord over here

Where’s the bloody man

One more for the road

One more slug of gin

Just one more or my old man is gonna do me in

By the 1986 recording, they are back in all their glory. Indeed, as you can read in Part 1 of this series Trevor Nunn himself has confirmed that the crew decided the number didn't work as well without the full preamble (an exception being, shockingly enough, Cameron Mackintosh).

During the Barbican previews, "Master of the House" was followed by a beautiful Well Scene between Valjean and Little Cosette:

(LITTLE COSETTE)

There is a castle on a cloud

I like to go there in my sleep

Aren’t any floors for me to sweep

(A FEW SECONDS OF INSTRUMENTALS)

(VALJEAN)

Don’t be afraid of me, my dear

Tell me your name and have no fear

How cold it grows when the sun has set

(LITTLE COSETTE)

I’m not afraid

Monsieur, my name’s Cosette

(VALJEAN)

Nor will you be afraid again

I come to take you from this place

There is a better world, you’ll see

(LITTLE COSETTE)

Give me your hand, and walk with me.

This leads into the humming duet between Valjean and Cosette. However, in what I consider the biggest mistake of this era's adjustments, the Well Scene was totally excised from the West End version and "Master of the House" is following directly by the humming duet. Trevor Nunn remarked a degree of regret about this in 1990's The Complete Book of Les Miserables. I don't have the book on hand right now, but I'll put down the exact quote later.

Of course, the Well Scene would later return in a much different form, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Perhaps to compensate for the deleted scene, another scene is added after the "Waltz of Treachery" number. During the Barbican previews, Valjean's "It won't take you too long to forget" is followed by a lot of vamping and eventually a reprise of Valjean and Cosette's humming duet. The West End production slightly reduces the vamping from about one minute to about forty-five seconds, and adds a scene (sung in the tune of "Castle on a Cloud", specifically the "there is a lady all in white" part at first and the main chorus for "Nor will you be afraid again" onwards):

(LITTLE COSETTE)

We're going home right now, monsieur

What is your name

(VALJEAN)

Now my dear

I've names enough, I've got names to spare

But where I go, you always will be there

Nor will you be afraid again

There is a sun that's shining yet

(LITTLE COSETTE)

I'm going to call you my Papa

(VALJEAN)

I'm going to call you my Cosette

The normal humming duet follows. This is a fascinating scene which seems to be exclusive to the brief era after the Barbican previews but before Broadway. It's interesting how it incorporates elements both of the opening Well Scene and of the more well-known later closing scene to the "Waltz of Treachery". It's also intriguing how it incorporates elements not really touched upon this directly in any other version of the musical, specifically just how mysterious and secretive Valjean is to the world in general as well as the fact that Cosette, in fact, is not truly Cosette's given name.

Everything seems to be the same from this point until "The Attack on Rue Plumet". In the Barbican previews, this is how the opening goes:

(EPONINE)

'Parnasse, what are you doing

So far out of our patch?

(MONTPARNASSE)

This house, we're gonna do it!

Rich man, plenty of scratch

You remember he's the bloke wot got away the other day

Got a number on his chest, perhaps a fortune put away

Took off like a guilty man, why would he want to disappear?

Now we're gonna do him right, this time no one will interfere

Everything from "Took off like a guilty man" onwards is removed from the West End version. Later in the number, we hear approximately the following exchange in the Barbican show. Fans have debated what exactly some of the lyrics are, but this is how I hear them:

(CLAQUESOUS)

What a palaver, what an absolute treat

To watch a cat and his father pick a bone in the street

(THENARDIER)

Not a sound out of you

(EPONINE)

What do you care if things scare me

(THENARDIER)

Listen 'Ponine, there might be jewels inside

There could be something for all

There could be bruises enough

You will have your share

(EPONINE)

Well I told you I'd do it, I told you I'd do it

The West End production reduces the vamping prior to this scene. Additionally, everything between "What do you care" and "You will have your share" is removed, meaning the "I told you I'd do it" is a direct remark to "Not a sound out of you". This is a much more linear and succinct way of moving the plot in my humble opinion!

That's it for act one! Act two begins largely the same, up until the scene where Gavroche reveals Javert to be a traitor. First off, Javert's original claim that they will "play their games" is changed to "spoil their games".

Next is probably this version's biggest change in the entire musical up to this point. Originally Gavroche sung approximately the following lines (once again, the recordings aren't as clear as would be desirable) in a unique tune heard nowhere else in the musical:

Good evening, dear inspector, lovely evening my dear!

A charlie for a copper who pays a call

I know who you’re supposed to be, Inspector Javert

Who never showed no mercy to no one at all

So don’t believe a word, none of it will wash

This time you’re reckoned without Gavroche!

The West End version scrapped this sequence and replaced it with "Little People" (which originally appeared in a much longer form later in the musical). This is how it went:

Good evening dear inspector, lovely evening my dear

I know this man, my friends, his name's Inspector Javert

So don't believe a word he says 'cause none of it's true

It only goes to show what little people can do

And little people know, when little people fight

We may look easy picking but we've got some bite

So never kick a dog because he's just a pup

You'd better run for cover when the pup grows up!

This edited placement of "Little People" is often attributed to the original Broadway production, but in fact it made its debut in the West End show. I'm not sure when exactly this was, given that the original cast album uses the long version. However, by the 1986 recording this is how it goes. It should be noted that it's not quite in its Broadway form, however; most notably, "We'll fight like twenty armies and we won't give up!" is not present.

A minor difference occurs during the First Attack sequence. In the Barbican production, this is how the students respond to their victory:

(GRANTAIRE)

By God, we've won the day

(LESGLES)

See how they run away

The West End production swaps the two students' lines, allowing Grantaire's slightly incredulous spirit to have a more poignant and/or amusing effect depending on your perspective.

Consequently given the new placement of the song, the show obviously had to be edited to remove the original "Little People" number. Originally, this is the way the show transitioned between the First Attack and "Little People":

(ENJOLRAS)

Courfeyrac, you take the watch

They won't attack until it's light

Everybody stay awake

We must be ready for the fight

For the final fight

Let no one sleep tonight

(GRANTAIRE)

Only little boys may sleep

For little people need their rest

Little tucks are quickly drained

And little grapes are quickly pressed

Come on little mite

It's time to say goodnight

Cue the original "Little People" number in all of its long, silly glory (in case you somehow don't know it, here are the lyrics). The West End production (and everything afterwards) cuts Grantaire's verse, so that the scene transitions straight from Enjolras' announcement to "Drink with Me". As much as I love the full-length "Little People" number (and I really do love it), I admit removing it was definitely the right choice. It's just so sweet and optimistic, it feels out of place in a musical as tragic and cynical as Les Miserables. It doesn't help that its placement is between a high-stakes action scene and a somber, slightly drunk reflection on the nature of friendships, sex, and romance. It's a wonderful song but a terrible Les Mis song. I do love it, though, and I also love how Grantaire manages to make his pre-song metaphors alcohol-related.

In the sewers, the Barbican recordings feature a unique tune not heard anywhere elsewhere in the musical (it can be heard here) before transitioning to the final Valjean-Javert confrontation. Apparently, this music was accompanied by a short chase scene. However, by the time of the 1986 recording there is instead what is essentially one repeated note which then transitions into an instrumental version of "Look Down". This is followed by the same Valjean-Javert confrontation as before.

And that just about sums this part up! If I missed anything feel free to let me know, as my goal is to create a changelog as thorough and complete as possible. I plan on making more parts in the near future covering all the changes that have been made in the show up until this day (discounting concerts). Any feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated.

As a side note, both for this project and my own enjoyment, I want as complete a collection of Les Miserables audios as possible. I already have most of what’s commonly circulated, but if you have any audios or videos you know are rare, I’d love it if you DMed me!

Until the turntable puts me at the forefront again, good-bye…

#les mierables #les mis #les miz #barbican #west end #changelog #history #1985 #1986 #comparison #the les miserables changelog #changes #theatre #musical #part 2

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