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jzontheazarian · 9 months

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The Story Behind gab’s Breathtaking New Single ‘LINGER’

gab is an emerging R&B sensation, drawing inspiration from both contemporary artists like Victoria Monet and legends like Whitney Houston. Her soulful voice and captivating tunes have garnered our interest and we believe you should take notice too. She has a distinctive style that fuses her heritage and influences, producing music that appeals to listeners across genres and generations. We had the privilege to converse with the gifted singer about her background, her virtual music journey, the genesis of her song ‘Rear View Mirror’ and her latest single ‘Linger.’ Read on to discover more about this remarkable artist and her music.

Jzon Azari: We came across you thanks to your previous song ‘Rear View Mirror.’ What can you share with us about how the song came to be? gab: ‘REAR VIEW MIRROR’ started with a voice memo. I was trying to find nice chord progressions and when I found the one RVM uses, the verse melody came almost automatically. As for the lyrics, I was heavily inspired by the warning message on the side mirrors of cars — the one that says “Objects in mirrors are closer than they appear.” Something about that phrase sounded ominous and sounded like good inspiration.

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What inspired you to pursue a career in R&B music? Growing up I have unknowingly been exposed to R&B. My mom loved listening to Whitney Houston, radio stations in the Philippines always played Mariah Carey, and I grew up at the time when Rihanna’s and Beyoncé’s music videos were always played on MTV. I think part of me was just naturally drawn to the instrumentation and raw, feelings-forward nature of R&B. It allowed me to explore the extent of my creativity and express my thoughts and ideas freely.

How would you describe your musical style and influences? Diverse. I used to describe my taste as messy because my playlists would often just be a mix of everything. Shuffling my liked songs can go from Tyler, the Creator to NIKI to ITZY.

I don’t think there is a singular way to describe my influences except that I listen to good music, and good music to me is often just honest songwriting and vocal expression (and a good bassline). Finding good songs inspires me to continue creating and cultivating my own, unique sound.

How does your Filipino background influence your musical identity and expression?In every way, shape, and form possible. Ever since I was a kid there would always be singing competitions of some sort on TV, even on live radio. I also grew up like every typical Filipino kid — there was a karaoke machine at almost every party and family gathering meant performing for my aunts and uncles in exchange for a crispy 20-peso bill, sometimes two. In a way, you were “forced” to find a talent you can share at some point when you’re Filipino.

The exposure to music was and is constantly there so I guess you can say the pursuit of a creative career felt like second nature.

How do you incorporate elements of your culture and heritage into your songs? I have quite a lot of unreleased songs written in our national language, Filipino. There are no certain release dates yet but I hope to share them soon.

I’ve also made sure to work with at least one local creative, whether it be with the song art or any other assets that I release with the song. Supporting fellow Filipino creatives is very important to me and I hope I can continue to do so as more and more people find my music. What are some of the challenges and opportunities you face as a female R&B singer in the industry? Being a female in the industry is already inherently difficult. We have to work twice as hard to “prove” that we are talented enough for the job. However, I am very thankful to be pursuing this career at a time when there is a community ready to provide very positive support for female Asian acts. This is a privilege I acknowledge and am grateful for as it makes it easier for artists like me to release music continuously. What are some of the challenges and benefits of being a Filipino R&B singer in the US market? My ethnicity is 100% my boon and my bane. I’m very proud to be a Filipino trying to take up space in the western R&B space but it is also very challenging to compete with those that have long been in the space.

Since a lot of my work and collaborations are also done virtually, it is much harder for me to come across opportunities that I would otherwise have more access to. Working through video calls and messages has been very good for me but I would love to get the opportunity to see my long-time collaborators in person someday. That being said though, I am very proud of the things I have achieved with my friends given our limitations and I’m excited to see where this journey takes us.

How do you connect with your Filipino fans and community through your music? It took a while for me to find my Filipino community because I worked on targeting the US market for a while, but when REAR VIEW MIRROR gained some traction on TikTok, I finally had the opportunity to connect with more listeners in the Philippines. I currently have a Discord and an Instagram group chat where we talk about basically anything and everything. They’re all very cool people and I appreciate all the love that they’ve been showing me. How do you deal with stereotypes and expectations as a Filipino female artist? Being a female Filipino artist, people often expect me to belt and sing with a very whole, rounded voice since it is the stereotype and the narrative the media has pushed for a while now. As someone with a voice on the softer side, I used to be very insecure about the way I sing. This is why I’m thankful for the likes of Reese Lansangan and Clara Benin — both Filipino artists — for breaking the diva stereotype attached to Filipino female artists. What are some of the themes and messages you want to convey through your songs? Almost all my songs are diary entries. I started writing when I was 15 and it was my creative outlet and self-expression. Many of the things I write are the typical musings of a young adult trying to navigate life. Not knowing what the next move is, the burdens of pursuing your passions, and the ups and downs of love and friendship. In a way my songs are my letters to those who find themselves in what I write, to remind them that they’re not alone. What are some of the social and political issues that you care about and address in your music? As an Asian woman, specifically a Filipina, I need to use my platform to champion the messages that benefit us as a whole. While I haven’t had the chance to address these things directly in my songs yet, I make an effort to talk about these issues and share relevant information through my social media accounts. How do you balance your personal and professional life as a singer? It’s difficult, quite frankly. I am currently studying architecture (and getting my degree next year!) which is a very time-consuming major. A lot of the work we do takes a lot of time before they are fully finished so balancing my time as a student and artist is a struggle. I’ve considered putting music on hold many times but it is one of the few things that keep me sane, which is quite ironic, so here I am. It’s all gonna pay off someday. I know it.

What are some of the goals and dreams you have for your future as an artist? Right now my goal is to find my place in the local music scene. I would love to do live performances and gigs whenever possible and collaborate with more local talents. As for long-term, bigger goals, there’s quite a lot. I want to create my own merch line, start a collective that will help independent artists and creatives, and go on tour. It would also be a dream come true to work with artists I look up to and be recognized by them in a way. A spot in the top 10 of major music charts would also be nice and of course, a Grammy. Big dreams but nothing is impossible. Who are some of the R&B singers you admire and look up to? I have so much respect for artists that play a huge part in the creation of their songs and the overall creative direction of their brands. As someone who writes all of her songs, I know firsthand how it can be such a process sometimes and I admire all the artists that seem to hit the mark every single time.

Victoria Monét and Kehlani are the ones I look up to a lot. As for local acts, I already mentioned them before but Reese Lansangan and Clara Benin have inspired me a lot.

How do you celebrate and honor your Filipino roots and traditions through your music? I am such a fan of local talent. There are so many talented and amazing creatives — graphic designers, illustrators, calligraphers, producers, audio engineers, social media creatives, the list goes on and on. Every time I release a song I try to work with at least one. I believe that there are enough opportunities for all of us and using your reach to help a fellow artist does not take away anything from you at all. After months of anticipation, fans can finally enjoy your new single ‘LINGER.’ How would you describe the sound and the message of this song? What inspired you to create this musical masterpiece? Before this song, all my releases have been a little angsty and a little sad. LINGER is definitely on the lover-girl side. Xoe, my producer, sent me the beat for this song back in 2021. In fact, he was ready to throw the beat away saying he’s sent it to multiple artists already, but nobody got back to him about it.

Well, this is where we ended up around two years later, with a song that’s quite the anthem for lovers and an equally good song to help you manifest your ideal relationship. As always, this song is a mixture of my experiences, book plots, and movie scenes.

I’d also like to give a quick shoutout to Brenno for completing the song with his guitar and bass, and to Canvos for being the best mentor slash consultant, constantly pushing me and wanting me to be at the top of my game. And of course, last but not least, thank you to Peter for making the most intricate, beautiful pieces of art that accompany my songs.

And to everyone who listens, like all my songs, I hope LINGER soundtracks the good moments of your life and gives you comfort when things feel a little heavy. Thank you for being here.

#gab #linger #r&b #r&b/soul #r&b singer #r&b girls #Spotify

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mercurial-madhouse · 3 years

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Tips for Writing Multiple Fics at Once

"I always feel like there is this one little secret to writing multiple stories at the same time that just nobody is telling me about."

A fellow author made this comment in a writers’ group chat today. If you're a writer, chances are you have a folder of ideas waiting to be written. Writers are idea-generating machines. Maybe you even have stories started and set aside, begging you to Write me!.

If you write fanfiction, where shorter tales are constantly appealing to be started and a multiplicity of prompts and Fic Fests await you, that list of stories you're dying to write can grow taller than Jack's beanstalk. The answer for some authors? Write multiple fics at the same time! Why not?

I'd never consciously thought about my process before, but for anyone who is interested in having more than one story in the works at once, here are my thoughts compiled into something coherent.

CREATE AN OVERVIEW DOCUMENT. We try to use our brains to store everything, but the human mind isn't programmed like that. (All of us who have more than one fic in progress will joke about how terrible our memories are.) It's like only knowing how to juggle three balls but refusing to let go of the five balls you're planning on learning to juggle next. Set those fic-balls down. Turn each story into a physical or electronic sticky note, so to speak. Include as many or as few details as you want, but what’s important is that you can see them all at once. Here are some ideas: -Colour code your documents on Google Docs. Before writing, look at them all and ask the question above, making a conscious choice to write just one colour. Once that Google Doc is open, the others don't exist. -Have due dates? Compile a list of your stories by due date. Do you have to go with the earliest? No, but if dates are important to you, it could be helpful to sort it that way. -(Yoinked this technique from a beloved author of mine.) Compile a single bullet journal page each month with your entire story list. The six most important stories each have a checklist that includes things like due date and the status, such as: brainstormed, started, completed, edited, etc. The rest are just listed by title and due date. -Maybe you need a happy medium? How about an electronic document where you can see everything on one screen with the bare essentials: Title, summary, due date (if applicable), and your progress. (i.e. 15k/50k or 1/4 or even “HALFWAY THERE!”)

Have fun! By checking what you have in process each time you sit down to write, you're less likely to be concerned about forgetting an upcoming due date.

PICK ONE. Active, single-minded focus is important whether you have other stories waiting in the wings or not. Having multiple stories in process simply means that sitting down for a writing session includes an extra step, a question:

Which story am I going to focus on right now?

How you make that decision and for how long that choice stands is a topic for a different post. What's important here is that once you decide, you stick to it. All of your other stories do not exist while you are in this document.

STICK TO IT.

You may choose to write that one story for 10 minutes, 30 minutes, an hour, an entire day, or even until the draft is completed. But the biggest secret to writing multiple stories at once is... *drumroll please*

...not writing multiple stories at the same time. Truly. This may appear obvious, but hear me out. Take a look at your thoughts the next time you're writing: Are they always focused on the story in front of you? Probably not. No matter how many stories we have that are in process, we are never actively working on more than one at one time.

I can hear the questions flying now. What if I forget something in another story? What if I focus too long on this one and run out of time on another? What if I can't stop thinking about another story? What if I'm always having all these ideas for my other stories even when I'm working on one?

If an idea for another story barrels into your skull while writing, scribble it down in a notebook and set it aside for later. Can't stop thinking about a different story than the one you chose? Then turn your focus and give yourself some time to choose that one. Trust yourself.

THE TAKEAWAY.

This isn't a magical formula by any means. Ask any author who has several stories in progress and their practices will be different. Trial and error are your best friends for finding what works for you. Will it take practice? Yep. Extra work? Yep. A mindset shift? Probably. Dedication in order to keep your focus on one story? Yep. Is it impossible? Absolutely not! So even if you have fifty in-process stories, when you sit down to write, my recommendation is to know your options (overview), make your choice (Which story am I working on right now?), then stick to it (Write me!).

Have something else you’d like to chat about? I’m open to anything concerning the writing process. My goal is to keep writers writing by offering tips and tricks I’ve learned along the way.

You’ll find my Plotting vs. Pantsing fictalk here.

#writing tips #writing advice #writing thoughts #fictalk

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commonwealthoccurences · 3 years

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If It's A War You Want

Request: Idea: Sole at the end of Blind Betrayal threatening "You lay one hand on Danse, and you start a war with me!" Can't trust Bethany Esda to write a proper conclusion for my boy Danse, so I trust u cuz ur writing slaps.

Word Count: 2,2027

Warnings: Threats, canon typical violence mentions

It was never supposed to turn out like this.

Sole hadn’t exactly come to love the Brotherhood’s ideology, specifically surrounding their opinions on synths, but it was a means to an end. It was messy, and at times downright infuriating. But Sole never intended to go face to face with them; the priority was the Institute. Once they were out of the picture, Sole intended to enjoy what was considered retirement in the Wasteland, and take up the role of a simple farmer.

Everything shifted once Elder Maxson told them about Danse and then ordered them to kill him. They couldn’t even think to react, to lash out in astonishment or in disgust. They were whisked away and before they knew it, they were being told his location by Scribe Haylen, and off they went. On an assassination mission for one of the people they cared about most in the Wasteland.

Of course, that was never going to happen. The walk to his location left them a lot of time to think. To come up with a plan, specifically. First, they wanted to hear his side of the story. It didn’t matter whether or not he was a synth, but they couldn’t imagine what he was going through, the stress, the betrayal, the possible resentment. Then, they would get him out. Wherever he wanted to go, they would get him there safely.

There would always be a place for him in Sanctuary. If it appealed, the Railroad could do what they did best, though they doubted he would want to lose what little he had left of his identity. Whatever Danse needed, they were there.

Before long, they were shooting down the turrets outside of the bunker Scribe Haylen said they would find him in, and they crept in, gun held in a tight grip by their side. Sole wasn’t sure what state of mind he’d be in. Whether or not he’d be defensive, whether or not he expected an enemy instead of a friend. He was smart. Maybe he expected Elder Maxson to test them the way he was, to send them after him to prove the loyalty Danse knew had wavered the very first day they stepped on the Prydwen.

There was water dripping from the ceiling, a leak of some sort made obvious from the heavy rains. The incessant dripping grew more and more irritating as Sole took careful steps through the damp hallways, jaw clenched, boots barely making a sound. It was a break in the structure of the wall that opened up to the end of their journey. Carefully, they straightened up, and stepped through the crumbled wall. “Danse?” Sole asked, cautious. They raised their hands on either side of their head in an attempt to appear non threatening.

But when Danse turned around, it was apparent he wasn’t going to make any attempt to defend himself. His gun was across the room, bullets scattered on the floor, magazine a few feet away. “Danse?” They repeated, tone softer, as they holstered their weapon.

“If you’re here to kill me, get it over with. Please.”

“Danse, I’m not here to kill you.”

He laughed, but there was no humor to his tone. “You should be. There’s no way you made it here without Maxson finding out, and if you’re disobeying direct orders….”

“I don’t give a damn about his orders, Danse. You know that.”

Danse scoffed. Yeah, he knew that. They had never been great at taking orders from anyone in the Brotherhood, until he asked them himself. It was obvious where their loyalties lied, and maybe he was selfish, but he had been okay with that. Now? Now, their misguided trust was only going to put them in danger. He knew that if they didn’t take back his holotags, they would be the next to fall. It was the way the Brotherhood worked. He had been a cog in their machine, after all; he knew better than anyone.

He turned away. It was nearly unbearable to look at them, at the hope they had represented for him in the year that they had been around, and the fact that they were looking at him pleadingly, a silent begging for him to go with them, and directly result in their death. “Get it over with, Soldier.”

“I’m not a soldier. Danse. You know I was never one of their soldiers. Don’t make this decision for me, please. It’s hard enough.”

Maybe if he begged them, they would go through with it, and they’d be safe. Of course, Danse didn’t want to die, if the loss of his life even counted as death, considering what had been discovered. But between the options of him living just a moment longer with the hope that he could return to some semblance of normal only for both of them to die, or for him to die for Sole to live, Danse would not hesitate in choosing them every time.

The drip hadn’t gone away. It drove at Sole’s patience as they stood there in silence, waiting for Danse to come to his senses. Or maybe it was them who needed sense, the sense to just move, to grab Danse and drag him away where no one could hurt him again. They nearly fully considered it when he spoke. “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”

They wanted to laugh, but instead, sucked in a deep breath and tapped their fingers against their thigh. “Have you met me?”

Danse nodded slowly. “Yeah.” He turned and looked at them. “It was a blessing in disguise. More than I knew, in the beginning.”

They found themself clenching their jaw tighter in an attempt to suppress the urge to cry. “Danse, let’s go. We can go back to Sanctuary and figure this all out. You don’t have to stay here and be alone in this miserable ass bunker.”

“Are you sure?”

“Danse, please. Let’s go home.”

It would be a long process, of course. To get him settled in Sanctuary, into a civilian lifestyle, without all the heavy-duty armor and the rigid structure to keep him firmly in place. But he would figure it out, Sole knew; he was much more resilient than he’d ever given himself credit for. They held out their hand and placed it on his shoulder when he stepped forward.

They guided him over to his weapon and loaded it for him before placing it firmly in his hands. “You still need to defend yourself.” The double-meaning of their words hung in the air between them as Danse stared them down. He nodded choppily.

The walk out of the bunker seemed much shorter than the trip in, and to Sole’s relief, they put distance between them and the dripping leak faster than they expected. As soon as they were relieved from one pressure, the next appeared in front of them. Through the thick rain, they could see the shadow of a familiar figure, one dressed in an oversized coat that they had thought many times would go for a high price at Myrna’s. “We don’t have to do this, Maxson.” They had to raise their voice to be heard over the pounding rain.

“You had orders, Soldier. Explain yourself, or I end this now.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. And I’m not your soldier.”

Sole could feel the rage radiating off Maxson. The vastness of his ego must’ve taken a dent from being so blatantly disrespected. “Sole, he’s right.” Danse piped up from over their shoulder, not loud enough to be heard by the leader of the Brotherhood, but clearly heard by Sole. They shook their head and raised a hand, clearly signalling him to be quiet. “See, Maxson. I’m not as stupid as you think I am. I didn’t come out here blind. I knew you were testing me.”

They took a step forward, despite the fact that they felt adrenaline and anxiety thrumming in their chest. God knows the rain wasn’t helping, with the way they had to squint to be sure they had an eye on Maxson’s weapon. “I didn’t leave straight away. I have help, Elder, and I don’t take risks without insurance. I’m sure once you return to the Prydwen, after being unsuccessful in locating both Danse and I, that you’ll find many hidden explosive charges located throughout your beloved airship.”

Danse’s sharp intake of breath was barely audible, and they hoped he didn’t make his surprise too obvious. Of course, they were lying through their teeth; they hadn’t had time to even think before they were being ushered out of the Prydwen on their mission. But Maxson didn’t know that. He had simply sat back in his chair and expected them to clean up a mess that didn’t even exist.

“You’re bluffing.” Maxson called back.

“Do you really want to find out? You lay a single hand on Danse, and you’ll start a war with me. With me and the Minutemen, and while you may have protocols and guidelines, know that I will stop at nothing if something happens to someone I care for.”

Silence. If there was anything Maxson cared about more than being respected, it was the Brotherhood. If what they had said was true, they could turn the entire Eastern branch of the Brotherhood into gory, scrap metal ridden confetti and then follow up with their own, albeit small, army if there were any survivors. They shifted their grip on their weapon and raised their chin; this was the moment of truth. Would they get away with their companion in a nerve wracking scrape, or would they die for their loyalties?

Their heart thudded, even when Maxson lowered his weapon and took a half step backwards. The pressure was off, ever so slightly. “Go. You can return to wherever you came from, but if either of you are seen again-”

Maxson didn’t have to finish. The pair knew exactly how little they had as an advantage, and they were lucky to get as far as they did. Sole managed to not burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation and instead gave him a sharp nod before their hand returned to Danse’s shoulder, and they began their departure to Sanctuary.

The first half of their journey was silent. Each was lost in their own thoughts about the situation, about what their futures may look like now that Sole had threatened war against one of the more powerful Commonwealth presences. Danse’s footsteps faltered momentarily just as they made it to Quincy. “Were you- did you actually have the means to blow up the Prydwen?”

Sole, overwhelmed with the confrontation of what they had said, burst out laughing. “God, no, Danse! But I had to think of something. If I didn’t have any leverage we would’ve ended up as ghoul feed.”

Danse frowned. “I told you you should’ve-”

“I know what you said, and it was the worst idea you’ve ever had. Try not to top it in the future, would you?”

The humor fell flat, Danse’s expression barely illuminated by the first rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon. “Look, Danse. I made my choice, there’s no going back, and even if there was, I wouldn’t change my mind. Even if I couldn’t blow up the Prydwen at that moment, I was serious. I would’ve started a war that rivaled the Great War. I still will, if he sends anyone after you.”

“Sole, you can’t possibly mean that.”

Whatever semblance of humor fell from their demeanor. They closed the gap between them and Danse and looked him in the eye. “I know that the Brotherhood may have made you feel otherwise, but you have people that will fight for you, Danse. You have me, and you have the Railroad and Sanctuary now. And it might be hard to believe, but I’ll spend every day proving it to you. Do you understand?”

Danse swallowed. The nod he gave them was barely visible. Stunned. They gave him a weak smile and brushed a strand of his hair away from his eyes. “Let’s go home, Danse.”

#Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Paladin Danse #Imagine #Oneshot #Angst #Fluff #Angst with a happy ending #Canon divergence #other tags im probably forgetting

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endlich-allein · 3 years

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Promo "Rosenrot" (2005), Olivier Riedel and Till Lindemann — Interview by Phil Lageat and Olivier Rouhet, 05-09-2005 (Rock Hard #048)

Rock Hard : [...] At the time of interviewing Till Lindemann (vocals) and Oliver Riedel (bass) - Paul Landers and Christoph Schneider are also present, but answer other stores - several questions are bothering us... because we are worried. We start by taking news of the band, which recently canceled dates in Asia and South America.

Oliver Riedel : Till injured his knee during the concert in Gothenburg (Sweden) during a collision with Flake, hence the cancellation of the Asian dates. Then Flake caught a childhood illness. He is currently confined to a hospital bed with mumps. Not exactly dramatic, but he could only hear with one ear, which was rather annoying. So we had to postpone the South American dates. Nothing serious...

RH : The fact of recording in Berlin, and not abroad, as usual, in a short period of time, has put on the shoulders of the musicians an increased and useless pressure ?

Oliver : Yes, absolutely ! It's the first time we've recorded in Berlin, at home, and I'm not sure, looking back, that it was a good idea. Our families living nearby, we might tend to look at our watches whenever we had a break : What am I doing ? Do I take the opportunity to drop by home ? As a result, we were necessarily less focused and it was almost impossible for us to be there 100%.

Till Lindemann : More pressure ? Yes and no. Usually we like to work in a relaxed and mellow atmosphere, which we did when recording Reise Reise in Spain. In Berlin, it was quite different, because we worked 12 to 14 hours a day. And we did feel time pressures. It was a pretty intense creative process, which is why this album is quite special and out of the ordinary. I wouldn't say I'm proud of this record - it might be a bit too much - but I'm very happy with it nonetheless.

RH : [...] It seems that this extreme fatigue is not just physical. Admittedly, lately, they do a lot of albums and concerts, but we remember the tensions born during the gestation of Mutter. How can we not think, for a moment, that the Rammstein machine did not exhaust the friendship that bound the members of the group, to the point that they feel the occasional need to no longer see each other ? Have they learned to manage their friction in order to get off to a better restart ?

Oliver : It's true, I admit, we are washed out, burnt out. This is the reason why we are considering this prolonged hiatus... During the Mutter era, we did face some personal problems and we had to distance ourselves from each other. Then, we got closer and managed the conflicts that opposed us. Today, the atmosphere within the band is excellent, but we want to take this break to rest physically. In theory, we're looking at a hiatus of almost a year. But, who knows, maybe we'll meet beforehand to rehearse if the urge arises. And it is already planned that we meet to shoot two or three music videos which should illustrate the next singles of the album. To summarize, these three days of promotion, a few videos, and basta ! I love surfing and I am thinking of going around the beaches with my little van, just to see the country. Is it still possible that we go on vacation together ? (smile) No, I don't think so... Two or three of us, yes, but not the others.

RH : But let's stop complaining, and let's go back, along with Till, to his texts, often encrypted and regularly tackling “taboo” subjects (homosexuality in “Mann Gegen Mann”, our primary instincts in “Zerstören”, etc.)

Till : Journalists always want to know what is the deep meaning of my texts. Personally, I find it much more interesting that my words appeal to the imagination of listeners, that they interpret them in their own way. It is for this reason that I don't wish to submit my point of view : it would then be rehashed, no room would be left to the imagination. But back to "Rosenrot" : it is a very old word. "Reise, Reise", which dealt with the life of sailors, was also intended to be a reference to Herman Melville's novel, Moby Dick. Our choruses are always composed of simple words, but very strong, like "Sehnsucht" or "Du Hast". "Rosenrot" is color as a sign. With the Brothers Grimm, it is about a girl : in the song, the latter drops a rose from a cliff and asks her lover to go and get it back so that he can prove his love to her. But the unfortunate falls... and kills himself. Outside of Rammstein, I write collections of poems. It has nothing to do with writing song lyrics. It's not going to sound very serious, but I'm saying it anyway. Writing a poem is actually quite simple : you just have to drink a few good glasses of wine and let your imagination run wild (laughs). Writing the text of a song is much more difficult : your lyrics must stick with precise stanzas, a chorus, a metric that is imposed on you. And a guitarist just has to tell me "wait, I'm going to slip three more notes over here, so you need three more words!" And everything has to be redone... It may be that these three fucking words require me three months of work. Poetry is pure pleasure, the text of a song is real work.

RH : If there is one title that emerges from Rosenrot, it is the excellent "Te Quiro Puta", sung in Spanish. Does Till have a soft spot for South American music ? The answer may surprise :

Till : Not that I like a particular song, it's those popist salsa beats that go straight into the blood, that your body can't resist, that I like. What artists like Joachim Sabena and Manu Chao are doing is fantastic. The others like it less, but recently, in backstages, I was making them listen to Sonora Palacio, classical Chilean music, with trumpets and everything. And gradually, I ended up making them totally addicted... When will a song in French ??? Very soon, I hope ! (laughs)

#rockhard magazine special rammstein 2021 #rammstein in press #rammstein interview #rammstein #rosenrot album #oliver riedel #till is love 🖤#till lindemann #flake lorenz #paul landers #christoph schneider #richard kruspe

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keilemlucent · 4 years

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lavender latte: iv

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 5 ||

word count: 7.7k

sucks when things go south, huh.

warnings: description of bodily injury, blood, mild? gore (it’s just describing injury), description of overstimulation, capital h and c hurt/comfort

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chapter 4 :’^) thank u for all of the love so far. i appreciate. every. single. one of. u. bottom of my lil rat heart.

this chapter was nearly split, but giving y’all a cliffhanger seemed mean

this the turning point and set up for the rest of the story so buckle up and enjoy ;^)

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Things between you and Hawks didn’t change too much, not externally anyways. Both of you still continued to indulge your feelings, even if you desperately tried to ignore them.

You continued to honestly spoil Hawks in lavish drinks of many sensations. Truthfully, you loved nothing more than seeing his face as he sipped at your new creations, watching the curiosity and pleasure spread over his features made your heart soar in your chest.

And Keigo continued to bask in your company. The drinks were always amazing, but the chatter and discourse between the two of you was what he loved most. Or, maybe it was his learning of you through watching your small gestures and cues. His analytical, interpersonal skills were, for once, being put to a use that didn’t involve espionage or deception.

It felt cleansing.

Despite these quietly greedy interactions, there was a great deal of repression between the two of you. Aimless flirting aside, squishing any growing feelings caused you both a great deal of strain. It worked, avoidance, for a while anyway. It wasn’t without consequences, but they wouldn’t get nasty until later.

One of the most apparent tolls was Keigo’s physical state. Having to actively ignore and quash his feelings for you caused such a deep amount of emotional turmoil. It made him ache all over. This was in addition to an asinine amount of extra hours he was spending staking out the villain syndicate that was indeed in the neighborhood of the tea shop.

(He wouldn’t admit it, but he was being overly diligent in scouting out the organization's doings. They were very close to you and your home, and the thought of you getting caught up in anything to do with his profession fucked him up on-premise alone.)

The combination of both physical and mental exertion made him messier than ever. It physically clouded him a lot of the time. Exhaustion had well and truly seized nipping at his ankles and proceeded to fully rip a chunk from his skull.

Keigo had yet another long day, dawn until at least midnight, no matter his aching body.

He’d be listening in on out some sort of meeting between the villain syndicate and one of its allies, some more reclusive group of villains from the far-off mountains. Neither organization was particularly noteworthy, but they did have some nasty criminal connection that needed to be monitored. That meant a late night for Keigo and an even greater need for caffeine.

He paid you a visit in the early morning.

The moment Hawks came through the door, you lit up, beaming from behind the counter.

The shop was empty, just having opened a few minutes before he appeared. The only sounds were the hum coffee machines, quiet music, and the tapping of your own tinkerings. Normally, there’d be more bustle, but you were alone in the din of the shop.

“Hey, angel,” He flashed you a winning smile, sliding down into his usual stool and propping his elbows on the counter. “Where’s the calvary?”

“Oh, the other openers?” You jerked your thumb to the door. “Running late. They all stayed up late working on a project for school, so I took one for the team and am manning the ship alone for this first bit.”

You sighed, looking quite tired yourself.

There was mutual recognition of your twin state, though it wasn’t verbally regarded in any way.

Hawks was far better at hiding his poor health from you, but that didn’t stop you from seeing the pinholes in his facade. You’d gotten better at it with time.

“What can I get you today, Hawks? Inspire me.” You set the glass on the counter between the two of you, gesturing to the expanse of the coffeeshop. “It’s just you and me today, so I can go all out.”

“You don’t already?” Hawks chuckled, running a hand through his hair with a sigh.

“I try,” You shrugged. “I really do my best work for you, whether you’re a glorified guinea pig or not. Gotta serve up the best for my best customer.”

On any normal, Hawks would’ve bantered right back at you, keeping you on your toes with quick words and wit.

That day?

He just laughed, something weirdly neutral, almost off-putting because you knew it was manufactured.

You opened your mouth, brows furrowing. You wanted nothing more than to ask ‘hey, are you alright?’.

But, that would’ve broken some of your own, mentally-imposed boundaries. It hurt, to just laugh with him, but it was all you would let yourself do.

“So,” You broke the air with words as opposed to giggles. “What would you like?”

Hawks hummed, “Surprise me.”

“... Like, fully?”

Hawks nodded, slowly.

Keigo, in a movement of full vulnerability, (he told himself it would just be for a few minutes), laid his head on his folded arms, “Go wild, angel. I trust you. Make me anything you’re feeling. Wing it, no pun intended.”

You blinked at him, nodding. His sudden, almost submissive action surprised you. Something in you ached, seeing him so worn down.

You channeled this feeling into a desire to make him top-tier drink.

Reaching into your apron, you fished out your idea notebook. Many had been crossed off over the many weeks (months now?) that Hawks had been visiting the tea shop. You fairly consistently wrote down new ones, so there were always options, but on that day, none appealed to you.

Your gaze flickered back to Hawks, watching the soft movements of his breath through the tight fabric of the back of his shirt.

You needed to make it extra good, help shake Hawks from his stupor.

You’re gonna wing it.

You’ll make a feel-good drink.

It was your only self-imposed criteria.

You hadn’t ever made Hawks a drink without a concept and feeling beforehand, so the concept of not having one seemed novel.

You activated your quirk and began.

“How’s your day been?” Hawks called from behind you, words muffled.

Keigo still didn’t look at you; resting on his arms allowed him a little bit of a reprieve before his grueling day. He’d take it. Hearing your voice would make it that much better.

You described your day with a decent amount of detail for how much it hadn’t gotten started yet. Hamming up the detail meant more time for you to craft the drink. Your mind spun, grasping onto pre-existing, mental abstracts in your oddly calm headspace to create something tangible.

Though your quirk was activated, you weren’t really identifying a feeling specifically, rather just letting your quirk draw from whatever material you had laying around in your brainscape at 6 AM on a weekday morning.

You pulled as many espresso shots as Hawks usually liked (maximum, five, you refused to give him more than that in a single drink), pouring them into some steamed oatmilk and several other ingredients you had mixed into a cup. You tapped some cinnamon on top of the foam, polishing everything off with a dash of sweet cream.

Carefully, you set it between the two of you. Hawks hadn’t spoken since you had begun to make the drink, so oddly silent.

It almost made your skin itch, his lack of response. You reminded yourself with quick glances that Hawks was very obviously out of it and exhausted. You were sure that without the concealer he wore under his eyes (a secret he revealed to only you), he’d have purple circles punched from how overworked he was.

You hoped your drink would be enough to brighten up his day.

You bit your lip as Hawks raised his head, blonde waves more unruly than normal. A small, lopsided smile stretched across his face as he sat up, grabbing the drink and bringing it closer. He had learned long ago to allow them to cool.

“Sorry for not being as peppy as I normally am!” It was almost imperceptible, the off-kilter tone in his voice.

You caught it but said nothing.

He sheepishly rubbed at the back of his head. “Been running on empty it seems, angel.”

“Then take some fuel, bird boy.” You nodded to the foamy drink. “When are you supposed to be done today?”

“Late, like late. Early morning, probably.” Hawks sighed, taking a sip.

...

As the liquid coated his mouth, Keigo’s mind seized.

What.

What the fuck.

Any and all thoughts he had disappeared. They were incinerated from his mind by the drink’s heat.

A sun-scorching sensation like he’d never even known tore through his body.

It was so different from the other ‘warm’-toned drinks you’d made him in the past. The flavor and feeling filling him up was nothing like the hearth-like drinks you had made prior. You had treated him to plenty of beverages that felt akin to open flame, warm blankets, a cat purring over your chest, a candle on a cold night—

But, nothing even close to this.

This was such a strong feeling that if he was a less trained man, his eyes would’ve rolled back in his head. If he’d been standing, he was sure his legs would’ve been visibly shaking, probably given out.

Sure, the feeling was abstract, not as concrete as your other drinks but it was ineffably strong.

It felt like the flutter you caused in his stomach, but somehow all over and inside of him.

It was the heat in his cheeks when he saw you, but reaching from his toes to the skin of his scalp.

It was the shock in his throat when you smiled so honestly at him, now forcing his hands to twitch around the cup.

The consuming sensation was all of that goodness and more, magnified and exponentially deeper and marvelously burning.

It was hot, fiery as it ripped through him, completely unignorable. But, it was also soft, colored with the earnestness that he admired about you so much—

Oh.

It clicked as the sensation stirred in his stomach, fluttering to a point of near nausea.

It was you.

The moment he realized it, that all of that sensation was you feeling, as you had made the drink, something began to broil in the apex of his chest, rolling and all-consuming.

His mind stalled as he took it all in, taking another sip.

The feeling washed over him again, equally as wonderfully crushing.

“Soooo,” You drawled, setting a jar next to you on the counter, beaming him a smile. “What do you think? Gimme your judgment, bird boy.”

Keigo struggled to keep his face neutral as he quickly searched yours.

Even in his state, it was clear that there was no deception or riddle laced into the creaminess of the drink. The expectancy in your face was derived from admiration, not waiting for the punchline of an unfinished joke.

“It’s warm! Like, in your stomach.” Hawks looked down before taking another sip, the even smile on his face not wavering for even a moment. “What is it?”

“It’s a miel,” You tapped the jar next to you, pointing at the amber goo inside. “This is some wildflower honey from the owner’s sister’s farm, right outside the city. We have a bunch of extra stuff, so there’s no better time to make a honey-based drink.”

Hawks eyed the steam, “What goes into a ‘miel’?”

Watching Hawks’ shoulder go slack with the next chug he took, you hummed, “It’s a latte, so espresso and milk, then it has the honey in it which is what makes it a ‘miel’. Topped it with some special sweet cream, a bit of cinnamon. My extra touches in it as well, just based on my quirk.”

Hawks met your gaze, his eyes softening with what you could’ve sworn was desperation, but was quickly swallowed up but stoicism, “And what was this drink’s inspiration?”

You laughed, shoving your hands in your apron from the typical anxiety, though the feeling itself was somewhat normal and thereby dulled, “It didn’t have one! I just winged it, like you said. My quirk was activated though, so it was just sort of the concept of what I was perceiving and feeling, I suppose.”

There was a pause as you waited for Hawks to speak.

He didn’t.

Keigo stared down at the drink, then you.

Holy fuck.

This was ambient?

The sensation that made his toes curl and every part of him yearn to reach out to touch you and give all of himself to you—

It was unintentional?

The feeling was familiar, one that he had organically all the time when thinking of you, being with you at the teashop. It was the one that he shoved down over and over again around you, yet craved more than anything.

And here you were, unknowingly returning it to him.

You hadn’t intended it to be shared and you had no idea you even did.

Keigo was one of the most perceptive people on the planet— he knew that many of the feelings between the two of you were mutual. As much flirting as there was, a lot of it was real from both of you.

He just didn't think it ran this far deep.

(Mutually.)

“What... What do you think it tastes like?” You asked, that nasty rot in your gut rearing itself as Hawk’s lack of response ate at you. You turned fully to him, actually taking him in.

Keigo did what he was so skilled at doing—

Lying.

Hawks waved his hands in front of him like he was trying to put out small flames, “Nothing bad! Promise, it’s really good! It tastes like how the coffee shop feels. Warm, comfortable. It makes sense that your quirk would reflect that.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, “Oh, good. I’m glad it's good.”

“Very good. I might have to put miels on my list of favorite drinks you’ve made me,” Hawks gave you a relaxed grin, standing and passing a wad of cash to you.

You didn’t expect him to be leaving so quickly, but he did say he was busy.

“Oh, hey, Hawks?” He perked up when you said his name, blinking at you. “I’ve got a project I’m working that I’m doing for the owner, so I’ll be here late. If you’re around, you’re welcome to come by after close if you want another drink? For your long night.”

Hawks softened for you like he so often had come to do. He fluffed up the collar of his jacket, wings ruffling up behind him, “I think I’ll take you up on that. I’ll have some ideas for you then too, how about that?”

“Sounds lovely,” Your voice was like the honey of the drink, warm, sweet, and vibrant. “I’ll see you then, Hawks.”

“See you then, angel,” Hawks practically glowed as he walked from the door, the chime of the bell sounding with his exit. “I’ll text you when I’m close!”

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Over the course of the day, an odd feeling grew in the pitch of your stomach. You did your best to ignore it.

You alternated between serving customers and working on the ‘project’ the owner had saddled you with. Making centerpieces for his sister’s bridal shower was not something you should’ve been doing on company time, but they were giving you a handsome sum of cash under the table for it.

You couldn’t complain too much, other than that it was laborious. Masons jars stuffed with wired lights and frosted glasses, tied with twine and ribbons were all to be prettily arranged by your hand.

During the middle of the day, you went back home, spending your time between shifts catching up on sleep and making some decent food.

The odd gnawing only grew in your stomach.

Keigo’s long day was wearing on, though somewhat uneventfully. Most of his patrolling time was the effortless thwarting of petty crime and easy rescuing.

He even had the time to go back to his agency and snoop.

Because, for how lame his day was, the drink you made him (which he had greedily chugged all of shortly upon leaving the tea shop) caused him to think particularly hard about your quirk.

(As opposed to the asphyxiating awareness of your shared feelings.)

He didn’t get it.

You’d managed to perfectly create a drink that communicated complex feelings. You’d told him in the past that it could be used for any sort of feeling as well, but you were so vague beyond that. You were abstract in the same way you quirk was.

So, he decided to abuse his power a little.

He decided to actually take a lunch at the agency, munching on takeout while clicking through the HPSC’s databases.

Civilian quirks, especially those that had never attempted to pursue any sort of career with them, weren’t documented incredibly well. Maybe a few details that were used in public research projects, but not much beyond that. He had hoped he could dig and find something that would assuage his curiosity and confusion.

He tapped your name into the HPSC’s hero-accessible database, scrolling and pulling up your file.

There was a picture of you, one from an ID that must’ve been a few years old. There were personal details Keigo wasn’t all that interested in, though it was neat to finally know your birthday.

He clicked on the tab for your quirk.

Quirk: Synesthetic Manifestation

Description: Allows the user to materially manifest abstract, synesthetically-created feelings into reality.

This quirk does not allow the user to alter reality, only tangibly create abstracts through the means at their disposal.

Drawback: This quirk causes severe synesthetic overstimulation and appears to be activated unintentionally in instances that expose them to high amounts of stimuli.

Quirk potential:

Keigo knew the concept of ‘quirk potential’ well. Most of the time, this portion on files was only filled out if the individual had ever trained to use their quirk in a profession.

Oddly, your’s contained a few details.

The user showed high potential in initial assessments, but due to the nature of the quirk, its drawbacks, and its recorded usage, this user’s quirk is now classified as lowest potential.

Keigo frowned.

All this just made him more confused.

The file didn’t get into much more detail than you did. The only thing that was new information to him was that at some point you had tried to use your quirk in a training setting and that somehow got you demoted from high potential to lowest potential.

Keigo’s own quirk in the database was regarded as highest potential; you, at some point, were only a step down from him. Something knocked you down from pursuing quirk-based work, and based on your current employment at the tea shop, you never got up. Keigo figured it was the intricacies of your quirk that he didn’t fully understand.

He’d have to be a bit more careful getting any more information out of you, considering how much you disliked talking about it.

Keigo continued to stew, finishing off his lunch while thoughts of you and your feelings danced across his mind.

Though it was clear his adoration was obviously returned, it was much easier for him to muse over the nature of your quirk than the way he wanted to pull you over the teashop’s counter and kiss you breathless.

You went back to work, a few chalky tablets of stomachache medicine in your tummy. They were all you could do to try and quell the twisting in your gut.

By the time you arrived back to start your ‘night shift’, it was late evening, the sun already having fallen into the horizon.

Most of your time prior to closing was spent in the front, helping make drinks and clean up as you could. Part of you was actually excited to throw on some good music and grind after the tea shop was shut down for the night.

Also, seeing Hawks twice in the same day? Absolutely fantastic.

You wanted to try and make him a knockout drink, to make up for the lackluster one you’d prepared him earlier. Seeing his eyes get all gooey with happiness would more than push you through your night of work.

Your phone chimed a bit before close.

[birdboy]: hey ;^) mind if I come by in like a half an hour?

[you]: yeah!! just call me and i’ll unlock the door for you

Your closing coworkers giggled at you. They all knew that that big smile stretched across your face meant you were texting Hawks. You used to get a bit shy about it, but now you just gave them shit. He was your friend, right?

[birdboy]: what if i like, hit the glass, like fly into it like birds do into windows

[you]: okay one- no, that would definitely shatter the windows and idk if i wanna deal with that AND you tonight ;^)

[you]: and TWO- are you speaking. from experience. about hitting windows.

[birdboy]: please dont @ me like this

You snorted.

[birdboy]: i had to pay off a tabloid who got it on camera bc it would ruin my brand

[you]: do u still have those photos

[birdboy]: ... maybe

[you]: hawks

[you]: gimme

[birdboy]: idk if i can my publicist will kill me

[you]: u hear what i hear?? a coward

[you]: how does ‘your brand’ feel about that

[birdboy]: ...

[birdboy]: gimme one of those honey sticks u have at the register and the pics are yours once i get there ;^)))

[you]: DEAL!!!

You pocketed your phone in your apron, unable to stop the almost ridiculous smile that you wore.

Hawks made you uncomfortably happy. You knew that he didn’t feel the same, but he was still there. Even if you were just entertainment to him, you were happy to perform on any stage he was watching.

As closing crept up, you shooed your other coworkers off. Most of the closing tasks were done, they could leave a few minutes early.

As they began to pack up, chatting about some party that night, your insides twisted.

You squeezed the counter, rubbing your forehead while wishing your coworkers a good evening.

Weird.

It was about then that things went to shit for both you and Hawks.

Keigo’s was supposed to be in for a hellishly long shift of surveillance based on the intel he’d received about the syndicate and its impending meeting.

Apparently, that meeting was happening earlier, rather than later.

The chaos started quickly, the meetup going from a strategic talk to an all-out fight between two groups.

It spilled into the nearby streets, both sides unabashed in their destruction.

Perhaps, if Keigo had been faster (what a tall order, for the fastest man in all of Japan), things wouldn't have gotten so out of hand.

But quickly, things erupted and the streets dissolved in mayhem as he dove and sent feathers flying.

You stood by the front entrance, waiting for Hawks, idly sweeping. The cleaning tasks were almost done, the world outside was dark with the late evening.

You froze when the ground beneath your feet rumbled with revving engines, the air splitting with the sound of car horns and alarms.

Everything that happened next moved so quickly, it was difficult to follow.

Windows began to shatter all across the street, near and far.

They cracked, spraying glass as a figure cloaked in black flew down the asphalt outside. A red barrage followed after it, nearly subduing it as it raced past the tea shop.

The massive glass panels at the front of the tea shop filled with frosty lines, just feet in front of you.

It clicked for you a few moments too late.

Adrenaline shot through you, but it wasn’t enough.

...

You weren’t Hawks, you weren’t fast enough to outrun much of anything, let alone quirk-shattered glass.

You were just barely able to turn around before the spray of shards reached you.

You would later be incredibly thankful that you wore denim jeans and a wool sweater that day. Without the thick fabrics, you were sure that you would’ve been shredded. The problem was your low-top shoes and thin socks.

Just as you turned, searing pain shot from the back of your left ankle. You urged yourself to forget the specifics, flesh-tearing, mind beginning to buzz.

You just had to keep moving.

Except, you couldn’t. Your left leg gave out with your next step.

You shrieked as you fell to the floor, barely catching yourself. Your palms smacked against the ground, pieces of sharpened glass driving into the flesh.

You couldn’t help screaming, your voice mingling with the sound of alarms, cries for help, and the war cries of a nearby fight.

Oh.

You were in the middle of a fairly nasty villain attack.

...

So much for giving Hawks a better drink.

The mental joke seemed macabre, especially in your state.

You willed with all of your might, for your quirk to not activate. Overstimulation was just inches away from your current state, the sounds outside the teashop boring through your skull like diamond drill bits.

The pain that was radiating from your left leg was nearly unbearable, but you knew that getting out of the front room was imperative.

How you managed to keep your injured leg straight, you’ll never know.

You locked your jaw and pulled yourself along the floor, hoping that Hawks had this all under control. More people were bound to be hurt by the same sort of attack you got caught in, right? How many more folks had been sliced up like you? Worse than you?

Keigo wasn’t having much trouble subduing the villains. They, of course, had no idea that he had been watching the syndicate for three-odd months. He knew their quirks, their tactics, their escape routes, everything. What he didn’t know as well was the other group’s specifics.

From what he had understood before the fight, the two had somewhat friendly relations. Still, Keigo mentally kicked himself for not being more diligent in his gathering of intel.

His mistakes aside, the much more pressing issue was the two-kilometer stretch of shops that were now collateral damage in what was essentially a mobile mob war.

This damage included the tea shop.

When he’d flown past the shop, he’d only caught a glimpse of your face through the glass before it shattered.

You’d looked terrified.

Every part of him wanted to stop, dead in the air, rush in, and make sure you were okay, but he had to at least get things under control until more heroes showed up. Then, he’d be able to get to you.

By the time Keigo subdued several villains of either group, more Pros had arrived on the scene. He sped off to the teashop far too quickly when he saw others gathering. It was an ill-advised move, but he was clouded by a different set of instincts than those cultivated in his hero training.

The flight did allow him to fully take in the damage of the district, though.

It was about as bad as it could be.

Whatever the villain’s quirk was must’ve shattered glass within a certain radius from his body, Keigo observed.

Thankfully, the villain’s quirk didn’t appear to affect anything past two stories of height, sparing all above it. Those panes and pieces that did shatter had sprayed businesses, restaurants, shops, and the street with shards of glass. Not to mention that they flew at the speed of projectiles.

(At the full-minded revelation that there was no way you weren’t hurt, Keigo felt his stomach flip and eyes burn.)

Keigo shuddered to think how bad the damage would’ve been if the encounter happened during broad daylight.

Keigo curled in his wings, dropping onto the floor at the front of the teashop through the broken window.

He kept his expression somewhat neutral, though the scene before him tore at his heart in a way he wasn’t expecting.

The tea shop was destroyed.

The pretty, warm lighting fixtures had shattered, fine filaments exposed, and a few sparking. The glass jars on your wall of tea blends were broken, spilling leaves and dried herbs across the back counter. That wasn’t even to mention the layer of shards from all of the glassware stored around the coffee machines.

Seeing the destruction of one of the only places he had ever found real comfort in was awful, and it tore something hidden and vulnerable in his heart.

But far, far worse was the absolute horror that bloomed in his chest when he saw the sizeable spot of blood in the middle of the floor, smearing to the back doorway.

“(Y/N)!” Keigo shouted, ignoring any stealthy elements and hurriedly following the trail.

“B-back here,” Oh, your voice was so weak.

Keigo couldn’t make himself move fast enough.

You’d managed to get yourself to the back, biting your lip so hard you were scared you’d break the skin. Part of you was lucid enough to know that making too much noise could be bad. Then again, the shop was supposed to be closed. Did anyone even know that you were there?

Hawks did.

You gripped at one of the edges of the stainless steel countertops, using all the strength you could muster to pull yourself upright. As careful as you were not to jostle your injured leg (that you still hadn’t looked at properly because you were terrified), the moment you bent it, you had to suppress a scream, turning it into a slow, nasty exhale. You let yourself sink to the floor again.

Something was seriously fucked up.

Then Hawks called your name.

You were sprawled out on the floor, injured leg awkwardly turned and extended to prevent the pain from being made worse.

The moment he saw you from the doorway, the remnants of his wings flapped, practically throwing him to the ground next to you.

The moment you saw him enter the back room, any and all fronts you had put on for yourself fell apart.

“H-Hawks,” You hated how small your voice sounded as you pushed yourself closer to him.

The details of him, how ruffled his remaining feathers were, how wide and scared his eyes were, how different he looked from the times you’d seen him on the news confidently saving the day, were lost on you.

Though, Keigo noticed your poor state easily. It was more obvious.

He scanned your form with the trained precision he was known for. He took in the shattered piece of glass sticking from your leg, bleeding lightly. Your palms weren’t bloody, but they were dotted with shards of glass.

He also noticed your panicked shaking and your unnaturally dilated pupils, beyond anything he’d seen while you’d made drinks for him.

“Is your quirk active?” Keigo asked, pulling off his gloves and grabbing one of your wrists. He turned your palm, using two of his smallest feathers like tweezers to pick at the shards pieces of glass.

“Y-yeah,” You replied, using the back of your other hand to wipe at your eyes. “It does this when I’m under extreme stress. I can’t turn it off.”

Keigo managed to laugh, relieved that the cuts in your hands weren’t that severe, “You just focus on me, okay, angel? That’s all you gotta do.”

You nod, trying to hold your overstimulated mind back. It’s fruitless, truly, because the moment Hawks reminds you that he is, in fact, there, and that you are safe, you quirk-addled mind spasms.

The awful mix of sensations whirled in your skull as you leaned forward, pressing your forehead into Hawks’ shoulder. In other circumstances, it would be a romantic gesture. But, the only purpose you had in the contact was hoping, praying, that the heat of his body would distract you from the swirling of sensations you couldn’t stop.

In that mental soup, within the fear, intense pain, and loss, oddly enough, was the unignorable, pleasant feeling of being so close to him. It made your heart squeeze. But, it was a single spice of sensation in a foul-tasting stew though, and it was hard to isolate the good in the muck of your mind.

You shook against him as sounds and pain blended inside your skull, thoughts becoming murkier and harder to understand.

Keigo finished tweezing your other hand, that one worse off, and wrapping it in some gauze he had stuffed in his jacket.

His mind screamed for him to wrap you in his arms, to pull you close and keep you safe. It was all he could fathom doing, just nearly moving to do so—

That was until the popping rumble of a nearby explosion interrupted his thoughts.

You jumped against him, muffling a scream in his shoulder.

His heart ached.

“(Y/N), I know this is all scary,” Hawks’s voice came through your sensational slurry. “But, I need to be back out there right now.”

“No.” Your mouth spewed with no discernable thoughts behind it. “Don’t leave. Please, don’t. Please.”

You caught Hawks’ wince, but barely.

He was already repositioning you, scooting you under one of the countertops, “Angel, I’m sorry. I need to go, but I’ll be back. I promise.”

Your eyes screwed shut, vibrating in your skull as pulling your uninjured leg to your chest.

Hawks looked equally as torn up about having to leave, brows creased with his lip worried between his teeth.

Despite how messy your brain felt, you knew that you were beyond defenseless. Even if your mind could easily conjure up an infinite number of ways to bring a person non-lethal (and lethal) pain, you were turning to mush mentally and you had glass sticking out of your leg. You had no fucking way to create it with your body.

Your back hit the wall under the counter and you managed to wrench your eyes open, taking in Hawks and his visage while you spun.

He looked so sad.

The feeling of mourning and fear spat so hotly in your mind, it was like you’d been intangibly burned by his expression.

You choked on your own stored tears, reaching out for him.

He caught one of your hands, the wrapped one, and squeezed it lightly.

Even with so few feathers left, Hawks plucked one, about the size of your forearm. He replaced his hand with the plumage.

“(Y/N), I will be back. I promise,” Hawks (so weakly) smiled, trying to reassure you. “You snap that feather if anything changes, okay? If anyone comes into the shop who isn’t another pro, or if you start to feel faint. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.” You gritted out, somehow laughing. Your vocal cords rubbing together sends a wave of agony up the back of your neck, burying behind your eyes. You press your forehead in your bent knee.

With one last, fleeting look, eyeing your wound and remembering slate-colored eyes, Keigo took flight into the fray once more.

Keigo hated leaving you. He hated it so fucking much. It burned him, felt wrong in every way. You were so vulnerable in your state. Both of you knew that without him there, you were entirely exposed and fairly defenseless.

It perked up that protective instinct he’d repeatedly had towards you for months. It was probably something related to his avian mutation, but it was just blood-boiling need to keep you safe.

Yet, he just left you, wounded and mentally spiraling, in the middle of a destroyed building.

If he wasn’t trained so well, he would have acted differently. But, it had been burned into him time and time again what his needs were in disaster situations.

Neutralize, stabilize, clear out.

Through his exhaustion, he fought and soared with all he had, fatigue forgotten and replaced by hot cortisol. He forced himself faster, zipping down alleyways and across rooftops at some of his top speeds.

While Keigo tracked down all of the villains (he managed to miss the first time), he trusted that the other Pros could deal with the heavy collateral damage. He was number two, he could catch some organized criminals.

Beyond his training, Keigo had an even bigger motivation.

He could feel you.

The feather he left with you must’ve been pressed right up to your chest, maybe under your neck with the way Keigo could so intensely feel your breath and heartbeat. He could sense it gradually speeding up to the point of what had to be panic. If Keigo focused, he could make out your terror-stricken babbling.

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“This is fine.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Hawks is okay.”

“He’ll come back.”

“He won’t leave.”

...

“Everything's gonna be okay.”

With that last one, your words gave out and it turned in gasping breaths.

Keigo worked himself harder, striking down the last of villains with absolute precision, all distractions forgotten in the most pivotal moments of combat.

The instant the villains were in custody, restrained, he was flying back towards the tea shop.

You don’t remember any of this well. Your mind was liquified, your body throbbing in pain.

It had been an incredibly long time, years since you’d been in any situation resembling a villain attack. There was no way to stop the synesthetic storm that was choking your mind. Every sensation was magnified, mixed with another, and shoved down your throat without any ability to change it.

A few minutes after Hawks left, giving you time to stew and roll, you spiraled more harshly.

When you realized how pitifully helpless you were, you fell away, pressing your wet face into the Hawks’s feather. Your vision muddled between black and red.

You felt the cold of the blood wetting your pant leg.

Your wound is bad.

You hadn’t fully looked at it in awhile.

Opening your eyes, you suppressed a wave of nausea at the small puddle of blood growing under the bottom half of your useless leg.

The way the denim of your jeans stuck to your skin mixed with the smell heady smell of blood made you gag.

You couldn’t keep it up anymore.

Letting your eyes shut, you sank down to the floor, cheek pressed into the dirty cement.

You don’t know how long you idled, drowning in your mind’s colors and vibrantly violent sensations.

You were only half-conscious when the feather pressed to your neck twitches.

“(Y/N)!” Keigo shouted as he landed in the teashop, flying straight to the backroom, bypassing the mess of broken glass.

His breath caught, seeing you slumped over.

“Fuck,” Keigo couldn’t stop the tremble in his voice as he noticed how much blood had pooled beneath your injured ankle. “Hey, hey, (Y/N)—”

He sure fucking sucked at admitting his faults, and recognizing the severity of wounds was indeed one of them. He didn’t usually stick around long enough to deal with casualties so closely.

Keigo threw off his gloves, tossing them behind him without looking.

“‘M fine,” You started to push yourself up, hissing at the pain that surged from cuts in your hands. “Brain’s mushy.”

“That all?” Thank god Hawks still managed to joke. The humor dashed across your vision like little sparks. You stifle a weak snort.

“There’s my angel.” Keigo was so relieved to see you conscious that he didn’t notice his own possessive slipup. “Are you lightheaded?”

Gingerly, he helped stabilize your body upright as you wrenched your eyes open.

“A little, it’s okay, this is what happens,” Your voice was so loud in your own skull, it hurt. Though, the pain of your words was only a prick in the wet dough of your overworked mind. Sensation was pain, rolling over you and making it harder and harder to stay lucid.

Keigo swallowed thickly at the sight of your fully-blackened irises.

He needed to get you out as fast as possible, but that required assessing the gash in your leg.

His gaze flickered to your ankle, “Can you move your toes?”

“I don’t want to.”

Keigo frowned, weakly, pushing you as upright as possible as you began to slip to the side.

“Please, you have to try, okay?” Keigo begged, not noticing his own voice wobble.

You shook your head, grabbing it in within its own motion. The dizziness made your insides knot and stick together.

“(Y/N), please.”

You shifted your gaze to him, vision tilting as you did.

The frown on your face split as you just barely moved your toes within your blood-soaked shoe.

The fresh pain, vibrant and boiling, cut through the fog like a heat-blackened knife.

Your own fist flew into your mouth to mouth to suppress the cry that bubbled from your throat. You half-recognized it was the one holding Hawks’s feather.

You couldn’t see the way Keigo flinched at the sound, immediatly trying to soothe the two of you.

“Alright, good, okay, you can still feel them,” Hawks managed to laugh, cutting into the miasma of your psyche. It was something light and airy, tasting like packet sugar on the sides of your tongue.

Chasing the goodness of Hawks’s voice, you mustered up as much clarity as you could grasp, willing yourself into full sentences, “Hawks. I swear to fucking God, if you do not get me out of here right now, I will never make you a drink ever again.”

Keigo blinked at you, nodding, watching your attempt to focus on him, though the fully inked irises seemed to refuse to stay put.

So, this is what the file meant about the cost of your quirk.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, dove.” Hawks scooped you up before you could manage to put more thoughts together. A few of his feathers flew to stabilize your injured leg.

His touch felt good, like incredibly good. Even as the crunch of his boots on the broken glass of the tea shop scratched at your inner ears and burned your sinuses, the heat and texture of his jacket caressed over your cheeks. His warmth tasted like honey and cream.

Your head lolled onto his chest, idly playing with the filaments of his feathers that you refused to let go of.

(Keigo didn’t want you to, anyway.)

He couldn’t fly well, not in his mostly-featherless state, so he took to walking instead. He sidestepped as much glass he could, mostly watching your half-lidded eyes fixate on the feather you had pressed up to your face.

It was a weird circle, Keigo feeling your heat and breath so close, both on his body and on the sensitive plumage. Technically, he was doing his job, so he let himself indulge just the smallest bit in being so close to you. When Keigo squeezed you, nearly at the medic’s area, you tucked your face into his collarbones, breaths slowing from panic. You were even slack in his grip.

A paramedic rushed up to the two of you, guiding you to a setup stretcher and a waiting line of ambulances.

“We can take it from here, Hawks, no need to stick around,” The paramedic’s voice cut through the air, dripping bitterness on your tonsils and iron nails in your lungs.

Hawks set you half-down onto the lip of the vehicle, “Nah, it’s okay, I’ll hang out with them for a sec. They’re a friend of mine.”

He’d never said it before. That you were friends.

Heat rushed up to your fingertips, sweetness washing over your wounded leg, topped off silken air settling around your ears.

You’d drown in the sensation, a million times over.

The paramedic ran off quickly, a man with a nasty head wound taking precedence over your leg (which seemed to have clotted somewhat with your somewhat more relaxed state).

Hawks still didn’t leave.

Rather, he moved closer.

So did you.

From your spot sitting on the edge of the ambulance, your injured leg was twisted and propped up while the other dangled off the edge of the vehicle.

Keigo was right up against the metal, allowing you to lean on his side.

“You good?” You asked him, bumping your leg into his lower back.

Keigo couldn’t help jumping. You’d never casually touched him.

(He really liked it.)

Though the setting and circumstances were fucked, he figured it was okay.

You were friends, right?

Hawks wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pressing you into his side.

You took it a step further, wanting to simply soak in the amber, milky feeling of his touch.

You squish your cheek low against his collarbone, drinking in the smell of his sweat, stale, spiced cologne, and rich, expensive smelling hair oil.

The scents washed over your skin, rolling over your burning wounds like aloe and clean water.

“Thank you.” Your voice is small and soft, kept gentle by your last sparks of lucidity.

You heard Hawks chuckle, your vision swimming in honey and yellow with the sound, “Just doing my job, you know.”

“I mean, yeah,” You laughed too, pressing your nose harder into him. “But, it’s you, and I’m just glad you’re here.”

“You better stop being so sweet,” The hand around your shoulder rubbed slowly, up and down your spine, sweet spices and sugars dancing on the roof of your mouth. “Gonna give me ideas.”

The touch, something you craved and denied yourself, pushed you over the edge as his touch dissolved across your overstimulated mind in cresting waves of rushing, blessed heat.

Finally succumbing to the flood of your quirk, drowning your mind in both agony and absolute calm, you muttered out the last clear thing you said that evening, “We always give each other ideas, silly.”

God, the many meanings behind your words spun and stuck in Keigo’s mind like the taste of the miel he drank that morning. They relentlessly clung to his psyche, wanting to know more.

He stayed close while you were assessed and strapped into the ambulance. He sent a few of his last feathers to retrieve your jacket and purse from the wrecked shop.

All the while you clutched his bare hand, irises black while the whites turned bloodshot.

As the ambulance drove off towards that public hospital, he could feel the steady beat of your heart through the crimson feather he made sure was tucked in your hand the moment he had to let it go.

He felt you squeeze it, and he wanted nothing more than to return the gesture a thousand times over.

#salem writes #lavender latte #hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #hawks x you #takami keigo x y/n #takami keigo x you #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo reader insert #hawks reader insert #hawks fanfiction #reader insert #mha x reader #tw blood #keigo x reader #keigo x you #keigo x y/n

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mdittyz123 · 4 years

Text

Motley Crue/The Dirt Fics

Nikki Sixx

-Animal in Me

Aria is a journalist for Rolling Stone magazine. She’s followed and hung out with countless bands. But what happens when she follows Motley Crue for one month for her latest piece? #series #ongoing #complicated relationship #ozzy osbourne

-Rebel Love Song

Nikki and Corey have been friends since they were kids. Back than Nikki Sixx was just simply Frankie to Corey. He was just the boy next door with a troubled past and a messed up present and future unknown. Corey was just the ideal girl next door, a girl Nikki couldn’t believe would actually give him the time of day. Things changed when Nikki took off without a goodbye or even a note. It would be years later before the two would be reunited. And when they are the girl next door isn’t exactly the girl next door anymore. Things happened and she’s changed. But will she still be the perfect girl in Nikki’s eyes or will she just be another girl in the crowd? #series #ongoing #childhood friends #friends to lovers

*-Afraid Summary: You meet Sikki Nixx, but then you meet Nikki Sixx and your world is forever altered. #dad!nikki #mom!reader #pregnancy #baby #godfather!tommy #meet in rehab

-Best Friends Summary: Omg colson and Dougie getting close to Nikki’s teen daughter (in a big brother way) #the dirt cast #the dirt movie filming #dad!nikki #daughter!reader #brothers in all but blood #brother figure!douglas #brother figure!mgk/colson baker #protective

-Twins Summary: Can I request a lil something that Nikki is dating a girl but she’s an identical twin and Nikki can never tell them apart? (Maybe a lil smut;) #twin!reader #messing with nikki #headcanon

-Support Summary: can you do a Headcanon about Nikki’s daughter having a baby? #single mom!reader #grandpa!nikki #daughter!reader #baby #grandaby #headcanon

-Grounded Summary: Headcanon for being Nikki’s teenage daughter today? & Headcanons for Nikki’s teen daughter being super close to “auntie Brit” and “Uncle Tom”?? #dad!nikki #daughter!reader #uncle!tommy #headcanon

-Tommy's Sister Summary: Tommy’s sister getting with Nikki. #brother!tommy #sister!reader

-You. Prompt: “you’ve shown me what love can feel like.”

-I'll Kick His Ass When Izzy Stradlin assaults Vince Neil's wife Sharise, things heat up between the Crue and Guns N' Roses, especially since the reader is Axl Rose's ex girlfriend #brother!vince #sister!reader #guns n roses #violence against females from guns n roses #memories #protective!nikki #protective!vince #the dirt movie filming

*-Shellshock Request: 1)Hey I saw you did a Nikki imagine that was based on a queen song ,, I was wondering if I could request that the reader is related to one of the members of queen and Nikki finds out and gets star struck 😂 sorry this is a weird request lol. 2)May I request a oneshot where reader is dating Nikki Sixx and she is best friends with Queen, especially Freddie, one day Queen makes a suprise visit? I am curious about the reactions of Motley Crue. I am rambling at this point but I would be really happy if you can write something like this🧡 #queen #crossover #queen x reader platonic #reader is queen's friend and introduces them to motley crue

-Being Ozzy Osbourne’s Daughter and Dating Nikki Sixx (Headcanon) #headcanon # dad!ozzy #daughter!reader #secret relationship

-Nikki Meets His Child Who Was Born During The Tour #headcanon #dad!nikki #mom!reader #pregnancy #baby

-The Love of a Brother Description: Nikki is your older brother and he comforts you when the family past comes back to haunt you #brother!niki #sister!reader

-Protective Can I request an imagine please with Nikki Sixx?? (been loving the dirt lately lol) i don’t a have personal preference on what it should be on. Maybe where you get hit on at a show and Nikki isn’t very happy and calls the dude out? #protective!nikki

-Headcanon for Being Nikki Sixx's Daughter #headcanon #dad!nikki #daughter!reader

Tommy Lee

-Tommy Lee Dating Someone Who Loves Cats (Headcanon) #headcanon

-Brother's Best Friend Summary: Vince is your brother and he forces you to go to one of his shows. You catch Tommy’s eye and he offers to take you home when you start begging Vince to let you leave. You end up hanging with Tommy and end up liking him much more than just the drummer for your brother’s band. #brother!vince #sister!reader

-Drummer #series #tommy lee x reader #brother!mick #sister!reader #marriage #jealosy

-Little Drummer Boy Description: “ I’d love to read a Dad!Tommy taking his and Reader’s kid shopping for their first little drum kit.” #dad!tommy #mom!reader #son #little drummer

-No More Secrets Request: can you do a fic where the reader is nikki’s sister and falls in love with tommy? nikki gets upset but everything works out in the end? thanks ✨ #brother!nikki #sister!reader #secret relationship

-Daddy's Girl Description: You and Tommy have a 3 year old, but you’re not together. The baby takes a liking to your new boyfriend and Tommy is jealous/hurt because he feels like he misses out on his daughter’s life. #Part 1 of 2 #dad!tommy #mom!reader#child #angst with a happy ending

-Headcannons for being Tommy's daughter? #headcanon #dad!tommy #daughter!reader

-My Brother's in the Band Summary: Your brother finds you in a compromising position with one of his bandmates #brother!mick #sister!reader

-Get a Room You and tommy are best friends and you flirt constantly and everyone’s trying to get you two together lmao #series #part 1 of 6 #best friends to lovers

-The No Fun Tour SUMMARY // You’ve been working as a roadie for Motley Crue for a number of years because of your interest in the music business and family connections with Doc. The boys are touring with Ozzy and things are looking promising for them, but if they mess up one more hotel room they’re in big trouble with Elektra Records. Doc has assigned you to watch Tommy for the night, and while the boys are like second family to you, you realize you may actually have more feelings for the drummer than you originally thought. #series #part 1 of 17 #roadie!reader #reader is motley crue's assistant #secret relationship

Vince Neil

-My Kinda Lover song inspiration: My Kinda Lover by Billy Squier #fluff

-Newlyweds No More #brother!mick #sister!reader #wedding night #cheating #car accident #agnst

-Hold On Your Life Reader is pregnant with Vince’s baby and they’ve been together for a couple of years and Vince is off on tour while she’s staying home and he accidentally overdoses and when he wakes up he’s just worried about his girl and his baby

-Dancer Summary: You never thought that you would meet the love of your life in the strip club you worked at. #stripper!reader #single mom!reader #step dad!vince #child

-Vince Imagine #vince neil x reader

-The End or the Beginning Could you please do a imagine where the reader is Razzle’s sister and has a friends with benefits relationship with Vince. The night of the car accident she was in the car with them and survived alongside Vince which leads them to get closer and end up admitting they have feelings for one another? #brother!razzle #sister!reader #angst #car accident

-Drunk Confessions Request: Your Tommy Lee’s sister and Vince falls in love with you #brother!tommy #sister!reader

-Me and You Plus Two Description: You and Vince have twins #dad!vince #mom!reader #birth #twins #babies

-A Girl Summary: When Vince finds out he’s going to be having a little girl he doubts his ability to raise a young woman into adulthood. #dad!vince #mom!reader #pregnancy

-Being Vince Neil’s Identical Twin Brother (Headcanon) #headcanon #twin!vince

-Persephone Description: Reader is a famous singer and has an innocent image but when she turns 18 the label wants to up her sex appeal so her and Vince’s record label have them fake date—the media nicknames them as Hollywood’s Hades and Persephone. #headcanon #singer!reader #fake relationship #becomes real

-Try Description: Reader is Tommy’s sister and she’s best friends with Mick and falls for Vince and she’s really obvious about it but only Mick sees it and teases her about it #brother!tommy #sister!reader #best friend!mick

-One Chance Vince falling for a girl and her not realizing it, this one is for you! #cousin!mick #cousin!reader #oblivious!reader

-Lights SUMMARY: A road trip for more booze doesn’t end well with a drunk Vince driving and Razzle and Y/N tagging along. #character death #car accident

-Headcanon for Being Vince's daughter after Skylar #headcanon #dad!vince #daughter!reader

*-Borrowing #brother!tommy #sister!reader #continue the family name

-My Kinda Lover Vince being shy around a girl, getting nervous and messing up a show when she’s there #before motley crue was a band

Mics.

-Trouble Summary: I’d like to request a Nikki Sixx, where the reader is a good friend of him, and just as crazy and they party a lot and she always comes up with stupid ideas such as throwing a tv out of the window, or lighting up mick’s room and they are all just crazy and do a lot of crazy and stupid things? So she is kind of a part of the Terror Twins? #terror twins plus one

-Preference #12 - Motley Meets The Baby #mick mars x reader #dad!mick #mom!reader #nikki sixx x reader #dad!nikki #mom!reader #tommy lee x reader #dad!tommy #mom!reader #vince neil x reader #dad!vince #mom!reader #new baby

Douglas Booth

-Head-canons for Nikki’s daughter meeting Douglas Booth or MGK and being like O_O shit he’s hot 😂 #headcanon #dad!nikki #daughter!reader #the dirt movie filming

-Makeup Artist Summary: Omg Nikki’s teen daughter helping with Dougie’s makeup for the movie #dad!nikki #daughter!reader #makeup artist!reader #the dirt movie filming

-Having a Baby with Douglas Booth (Headcanon) #headcanon #dad!douglas #mom!rader #pregnancy #baby

-It Just Sort of Happened (Douglas Booth Imagine) #the dirt movie filming #dad!tommy #daughter!reader

Machine Gun Kelly/Colson Baker

-Head-canons for Nikki’s daughter meeting Douglas Booth or MGK and being like O_O shit he’s hot 😂 #headcanon #dad!nikki #daughter!reader #the dirt movie filming

-Being Pete Davidson’s Sister and Dating Machine Gun Kelly (Headcanon) #headcanon #brother!pete #sister!reader

-Having a Baby with Machine Gun Kelly/Colson Baker (Headcanon) #part 1 of 2 #headcanon #dad!mgk/colson #mom!reader #pregnancy #baby

-Being Roger Taylor’s Daughter and Dating Machine Gun Kelly (Headcanon) #headcanon #queen #crossover #dad!roger taylor #daughter!reader #drummer!reader

Daniel Webber

-Winning Summary: Can we have more on Nikki’s daughter and Daniel’s relationship? #dad!nikki #daughter!reader #the dirt movie filming

-On Set Summary: Being Nikki’s oldest daughter and dating Daniel Webber from the Dirt. While they’re filming but you come to see Nikki, Tommy, and when Mick and Vince was on set helping. #headcanon #the dirt movie filming #dad!nikki #daughter!reader #secret relationship

#The Dirt #Motley Crue #the dirt fic recommendations #motley crue fic recommedations #the dirt imagine #motley crue imagine #the dirt cast #nikki sixx x reader #tommy lee x reader #vince neil x reader #mick mars x reader #douglas booth x reader #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker x reader #daniel webber x reader #fic recommendations #imagens

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rushingheadlong · 3 years

Photo

POP IN THE SUPERMARKET

Conveyer rock - is it all a hype? Colin Irwin looks at pre-packed pop and talks to the men behind new bands Queen (left) and Merlin

Hype. An ugly, unpleasant word frequently recurring in rock circles.

Up in the boardroom of a vast record company the fat cigar brigade are scratching heads. Binn and Batman have come up with another surefire hit and they want somebody fresh to market it. They ponder a few names and finally decide on one with slight but clear sexual connotations - suggestively camp.

Name settled, they work on the people who will be in this new band. They might be able to find a ready-made group to fit the bill but better to mould their own. There's a singer who has been around for a few years.

He's not great but he knows how to throw himself around a stage, has a hairy chest and can hit the high notes. Give him a new name and he'll do. Somebody knows a lead guitarist who can play a bit and looks good. They can advertise for the others.

They'll work out a sensational stage act, rig them up in some flash gear, buy them the best equipment and arrange a string of appearances in some influential venues. Plunge a few thousand quid in launching them with advertising and posters and "They'll be the biggest thing since sliced bread," chief fat cigar tells his underlings.

Session musicians are employed to record the single and being a Binn and Batman special the radio stations label it "chart bound" and play it twenty five times a day. Seeing the glossy photos in the bop mags the kids gather up their pennies and buy it.

VOILA, stars are born - or manufactured. An extreme form of hype.

There's also a cliché commonly used in the business about people who have been around for many years and finally make it. It's called talent-will-out. An idealist phrase but there is still a popular belief that if a band is truly talented enough it will win through in the end.

Yet even the greatest band in the world need a bit of pushing in the first place. When a record becomes a hit it's not always that easy to distinguish between hype and talent-will-out.

If a record company spends astronomical sums of money promoting a band, is it hype? Or is it a legitimate and necessary weapon in the music business? The argument is that the BBC's ever-tightening playlist and the effects on the industry of the three-day week have made it harder than ever for a new group to make it - talent or no. Without a big money machine behind it there isn't a hope.

The situation is illustrated by two energetic new bands, who both look like breaking.

Big money has been spent on Queen and Merlin, who have had new singles released during the last month.

Queen's record, "Seven Seas Of Rhye," is already moving swiftly up the chart, while Merlin's "Let Me Put My Spell On You," is doing well enough to suggest it might follow suit.

There is no suggestion that either band is a manufactured or manipulated product in the sense of the Monkees. They play the music on their own records entirely themselves and they are both hard at work on the road.

Yet the question arises as to whether they would be doing quite so well without the resources of big companies behind them.

In the case of Queen it's Trident Audio Productions and EMI and for Merlin it's Cookaway Productions and CBS.

The one common factor is that money and backing has been provided because the companies have a solid, unshakeable belief in the artists they are promoting. They are indignant about any suggestion of a put-on or that there has been any attempt to con the public.

Listen to Merlin's producer Roger Greenaway for half-an-hour and there is no doubting his faith in their ability. "They are going to break, I know they are. I'm convinced the record will be a hit."

Nobody's saying exactly how much it has cost to launch either band. "Over a period of months between £5,000 and £10,000" has been spent on marketing Queen by EMI while the figure for Merlin is even vaguer. "A bit, but not a vast amount. Not a fortune by any means."

"Seven Seas Of Rhye" is Queen's second single and was recorded as part of the album "Queen 2" which has just been released. Things started to move for them about a year ago when they recorded their first album for Trident, who have a distribution contract with EMI.

An advance was paid to them to help with the immediate costs of putting them on the road.

Review copies of the album - about 400 of them - were sent out to everyone who might conceivably have any influence on the record buying public, from discos to the national press. Copies were personally distributed to radio and TV producers and extensive advertising space was bought in the trade papers.

The launch for Queen was more concentrated than most artist are entitled to expect.

Trident were completely behind them from the start and found them their American producer Jack Nelson. EMI promotions men Ronnie Fowler and John Bagnall decided they had a product with an exceptional chance of success and they went all out to exploit it to the full.

Says Fowler: "Every record we release we work to a pattern of promotion. When I went round with the album it was normal procedure. It becomes un-normal when people start phoning you - that's when you put more effort into it."

Bagnall adds: "It became obvious after a week or so that it wasn't standard promotion that was necessary. We did a more complete promotion job than usual on Queen because we thought they were going to make it.

"They're all good-looking guys and I did a round of teeny papers and all the girls in the office swooned over them. Brian, the lead guitarist, had made his own guitar and a couple of the nationals picked up on that. It was good, gossipy stuff."

Queen's publicity machine was working from all angles because they were also getting external promotion from Tony Brainsby's promotion office.

He had been involved with them from the time they had been trying to get record producers interested. The intensity of it all paid off when they were invited to do a spot on the Old Grey Whistle Test. Radio Luxembourg latched upon the single "Keep Yourself Alive" and played it regularly.

Their first tour, supporting Mott the Hoople, got the full works. Local press was saturated with releases about this new band which was shortly coming to their town, elaborate displays were arranged at the front of the house on the night of the concert, local disc-jockeys were informed, and window displays were made in about 200 local record shops.

"Trident and EMI committed themselves right from the start to this band, to make sure they had a PA which was better than other bands had and to make sure they had the right clothes. Some of their outfits cost £150 each," said Bagnall. "Spending money on a band isn't hype. It wasn't being flash or extravagant for the sake of building an image. It was making sure that everything else was as good as their music."

Not so far removed from the attitude towards Merlin, although it has been on a smaller scale in this case.

The first Merlin tour, still underway, is rigorous. They are playing ballrooms and colleges all over the country on a lengthy round.

An ambitious project for a new, unknown band, but it has already been successful in that it has launched them as a name people now know. A full-page advertisement was bought in the MM. That's the sort of treatment you might get if you're Bowie, or Ferry, or even Mick Ronson. But Merlin?

They have only been in existence in their present form since last May.

They emerged as a result of discussions between Alan Love and Derek Chick about the possibility of forming a band with definite commercial appeal and a glamorous stage act. The idea reached fruition via a band called Madrigal, who had for some time been working the same circuit as Mud before "Crazy" broke for them.

Madrigal disbanded but reformed with the same drummer and bass player, and Love as singer and Chick as manager. A couple more young musicians were found to join them and Chick started the usual hustling to get them going.

In due course they came to the attention of Cookaway, and Roger Greenaway was hastily summoned to take a look at them. He had already seen Madrigal and when he saw the new model he immediately saw a big future for them.

Greenaway says: "I'd been looking for a group of this type for three years - a young under-20s group who can present a good act. There's a lot more showmanship attached to bands now. I wanted an act with a slightly different approach. I was in New York producing the Drifters and I came back especially to hear them."

He quickly took them into a studio to see how they reacted there and among the tracks they recorded was "Let Me Put My Spell On You" which had been written by Greenaway in collaboration with Tony Macaulay. Like Queen, the best equipment and some fancy costumes were bought for them and the launching process was put into operation.

My own experience of the Merlin project was a couple of weeks ago at Reading Top Rank - a bizarre mixture of precocious boppers, ageing teds, and stern-looking heavies.

Posters and pictures of the group were plastered all over the place and by the time they eventually appeared late in the evening you had been informed quite thoroughly that Merlin had made a record called "Let Me Put My Spell On You."

Greenaway says of Love: "He's got star quality and he's a great charmer. The guitar player Jamie Moses has got a terrific potential too. I've worked with Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones but for me this guy at 18 is a better player than Jimmy Page was at the same age. He's the sort of player guys can follow - like Jet Harris - he had an incredible following with the guys."

He likens the Merlin launch to a military operation. The career of the group has been minutely planned since October. Accepting that it is almost impossible to get airplay for a new band on the BBC they decided the best way to break them was through a solid mass of live dates.

The dates were booked, once again the best equipment, including a light show, was bought for them, and distinctive stage costumes especially designed.

"By the time the tour has ended they will be a really tight band. We are getting support in the regions and you can break a record if you can get regional radio stations and disco plays. I believe this record is a hit and the signs are there. This is a ten-year job as far as I'm concerned."

Not that big money backing is any guarantee of success.

One of the biggest projects of this type was the launching of young Darren Burn as Britain's answer to Donny Osmond. To their eternal credit the record-buying public didn't apparently want an answer to Mr Osmond and the campaign failed.

The pop supermarket is not a new trend. The attractively packaged mass-produced record has been a part of the industry for a long time. The early releases of Love Affair, White Plains and Edison Lighthouse for example spring to mind.

The whole thing is justified for the makers by the fact that they still become hits, thus proving there is a demand for made-to-order records. If the public is willing - or gullible enough - to pay 50p for music created in the boardroom. Well it must be OK.

The Merlin single is blatantly, unashamedly aimed at being a big hit - that seems to have been the one criterion in making it. It has all the ingredients and as the whole thing has been done with concentrated professionalism it will probably be a hit.

Back to Roger Greenaway: "I don't want to present this as a Monkees type of image. It's not a manufactured group in any way - these guys have all been in other bands.

"What Merlin are about is success - reaching people. It's so wrong for opposing people to criticise. If Chinn and Chapman go out to reach a particular market at the thing they do best, and they reach them, then they're doing their job. They've filled a gap.

"When this record happens it'll be called hype but we haven't hyped anybody. Not a vast amount of money has been spent on them. It would be silly to have a tour like this without some sort of advertising. All the money that has been spent on them so far has been towards getting them on the road.

"It's expensive but it's minimal if you think of it as a along term thing."

It may be unfair to associate Queen with the pop supermarket. The group themselves were apprehensive about appearing on Top Of The Pops and the prospect of a hit record.

They have always regarded themselves as an album band and were concerned about being connected with the chart groups. The fact remains that they have been on the receiving end of a giant campaign to create a best-selling single and album.

The first album had sold far better than they had anticipated and there was great excitement around Trident and EMI as the second one was being made. Manager Jack Nelson came in virtually every day to play new tracks as they were completed and many discussions followed on which one should be released as a single.

A special meeting was held between Bagnall, Fowler, marketing manager Paul Watts and a few others to discuss the approach to the release of "Queen 2."

"We talked about the possibility of boxing the album, and other various publicity and posters needed to produce an album we were convinced was going to be one of the biggest of the year. We set a high target for it. 'Seven Seas' isn't a housewives' record so with the daily shows like Edmonds, Blackburn and Hamilton, there's no chance of getting it played, we knew that from the start. But the weekend shows - Rosko, Henry, and D.L.T. - they all flipped over it. I took the records round personally because I felt so strongly about it."

The prime plug, however, is Top Of The Pops. If a record gets exposure on that there is a more than even chance that it will become a hit. He played it to the show's Robin Nash and a couple of days later Nash phoned him and asked him where Queen were. Later he rang back and invited Queen to do a session.

The band weren't too sure whether they wanted to do it but eventually agreed although even then they didn't know until the last minute whether it would be used because they were half expecting a David Bowie film to arrive and take it's place. But in the end Queen were shown and "Seven Seas Of Rhye" moved dramatically from there.

"A lot of people have invested an awful lot of time and money in this band but not as a hype," says Bagnall. "The only truth in the music business is that if a band isn't good, no amount of money will get them to make it."

Greenaway may be right that Merlin are one of the most exciting bands to merge since the Beatles. Fowler might be right that Queen are one of the best since the Who. But big business still remains one of the sadder aspects of the music industry today.

----------

Huge thanks to the anon who brought this to my attention, since I’ve been looking for a copy of this article for ages now!

Credit for the original scans goes to @Chrised90751298 over on twitter, though I stitched it back together into a single image for ease of posting over there. Open the image in a new tab to see the full-size version!

#queen band #queen #queenband #merlin band #long post //#text

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ladyloveandjustice · 3 years

Text

Fall 2020 Anime Overview

I started out watching the a ton of anime for the Fall 2020 season, but then ended up not being caught up with most of them by the the time the end rolled around. I still pretty much intend to catch up with Yashahime Princess Half Demon someday (I do like the three leads, it just the plot’s been dull as dirt and the fights aren’t very inspired either) and though I dropped Wandering Witch after bad press started rolling in (I CANNOT deal with pointless tragedy in my current state of mind) I might check out a few more episodes someday just to from my own opinion. For now, let’s just quickly review the anime I DID manage to finish on time this season.

Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle

Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle is exactly what it says on the tin: Princess Syalis isn’t too bothered about being captured by demons and locked in their castle, but she does value a good night’s sleep, and she is absolutely ruthless when it comes to getting it- so ruthless, in fact, that the demons realized it might not be that she’s trapped in here with them, but that they’re trapped in here with her.

Sleepy Princess is top tier comedy comfort food. It rarely got a huge belly laugh, but it always but a smile on my face and was a great thing to watch before going to bed. Syalis’s single-minded search for some shut eye is a joke that could have gotten old very quickly, but the show consistently found creative ways to expand on the gags and build it’s world and a fun cast of characters along the way.

Though Syalis is downright brutal to the demons when it comes to getting what she wants (and has a knack for getting herself killed at well), thanks to a demon cleric that offers easy resurrections, you never feel too bad for anyone involved. In fact, the demons and Syalis form a strangely heartwarming bond over the course of the show , and it’s clear by the end that Syalis definitely has the ability to come and go if she damn well pleases and just finds this castle a fun place where she can find respite from her princessly responsibilities.

A nice bonus for those of us who like a little subversion is that the show has a lot of fun playing with standard adventure tropes- the demons often lament that Syalis is not at all what they expected from a captive princess, for one, but my favorite fun little twist is how Syalis feels about the hero currently on a (seemingly endless) quest to rescue her- she manages to both hold him in contempt AND consistently fail to remember his name. That level of disregard takes some impressive effort.

The show has the same director as the Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun anime and as such has a similarly nice comic and visual flourishes throughout. It definitely gets two sleepy thumbs up for me.

Jujutsu Kaisen

Jujutsu Kaisen follows a young man named Yuuji Itadori who, after tangling with a demon, ends up with one inside him. With a death sentence hanging over his head, he’s inducted into a school for “jujutsu sorcerers”, and begins training to use his newfound powers to defeat demons and curses.

Jujutsu Kaisen quickly tells you on no uncertain terms it is Action Shonen, introducing a huge cast of a characters and powers and super high stakes and hey there’s even gonna be a tournament arc soon. It is really, really pretty to look at, with a killer opening and ending, some seriously great animation and cool visuals for the fights especially. But is it particularly memorable otherwise? Noooooot really, so far. The sea of technobabble it tends to descend into when trying to explain how the various powers work often has me zoning out and wishing they’d just let me watch the pretty punches. The villains and the general plot isn’t particularly compelling. The characters are nice enough, but haven’t given me much to be attached to so far. Though I do appreciate this one dude who is the embodiment of millennial ennui:

I’ll keep watching though, because it is a visually stunning, action-y thing to my turn your brain off to and god knows I want to turn my brain off all the time lately.

And the characters do have potential- the One Girl of the main group, Nobara, has a really fun personality in that she’s a total shitlord doofus brawler who can thus doof around with our equally dumbass protagonist, which is an pretty fun, unusual personality for the One Girl to have! Her interactions with Maki, the weapons expert senpai girl, are promising too. I’m just waiting for her to actually, you know, DO something that really shows off her skills- I’m told she DOES eventually get to (gasp) win fights on her own and do cool stuff, but so far show has kind at that of failed miserably and underused her like most action shonen underuse their girls. Plus, taking Yuuji out of the group for such a long stretch seems like a weird choice, we’ve been deprived really seeing him for relationships with his peers. The pacing seems off. But maybe the upcoming tournament arc will make up for that and actually be worthwhile!

Talentless Nana

In a world where kids with superpowers are sent to island schools to fight mysterious “enemies of humanity”, one class of such kids is thrown into chaos when they find themselves targeted by a deadly force.

It’s pretty much impossible to talk about Talentless Nana without discussing how it deviates dramatically from what its premise appears to be in episode one, so I’ll just say if you like stories with superpowers and intrigue, you should definitely sit through that first episode and see if the plot that’s eventually revealed is something that you’re here for. But if you want to avoid spoilers, DON’T GO BELOW THE CUT, because I’m about to get very spoilery.

Basically, Talentless Nana pulls a bait and switch, starting it’s first episode posing as generic superhero anime where the protagonist appears to be your standard meek-but-powerful anime boy (Nanao) who just needs some support and encouragement from a pink haired mind reading manic pixie dream girl (Nana) to unlock his self-confidence and ~true power~ (ugh)...only to take SHARP swerve when Nana ruthlessly murders Nanao and reveals she’s been sent by the government to take out the superpowered kids one by one because THEY are the considered the true enemies of humanity. Oh, and she doesn’t have any superpowers, or “talents”- she was just able to sus out everything Nanao was thinking through basic deductive reasoning because he was so flippin’ obvious and basic.

As my love for a certain character in a certain game may have clued people into, I am ALWAYS delighted when what appears to be a generic, underwritten girlfriend character is then revealed to be an interesting, ruthless mastermind. And having an anime appear to be about a bland boy with a Dream Girlfriend but then actually turn into a show about a deeply cynical, morally dubious girl who’s clearly holding down a lot of messy feelings as she considers everyone her enemy...well, it may be a cheap trick to some, but it also feels a little bit like justice for all the underwritten female characters sacrificed to bland male leads. It’s still rare enough that I dig it when it happens. And the metatext of Nana zeroing in on this kid as the most standard of main character boys, assessing him as the biggest threat because of it and knowing the perfect way to take him out, is pretty inherently funny to me.

But if the show JUST banked on that twist and was about Nana brutally and cynically slaughtering these kids, it would get boring quickly and Nana would be a bland character herself. Fortunately, it doesn’t go that route. Nana struggles and grows a lot over the course of the show. She finds opposition in transfer student Kyoya, a stoic (and socially awkward) young man who pretty quickly becomes suspicious of her. A lot of the tension from the early episodes comes from her sweating as she tries to outmaneuver him and she makes plenty of mistakes along the way. She also slowly but surely starts to question her mission, and we get an idea of her backstory and how the government specifically has groomed her into believing people with powers to be evil. That belief is one that’s challenged by her friendship with another girl, and it’s pretty rewarding to watch Nana’s feelings and world expand little by little.

The show is definitely a little schlocky-some of the plots (as well as the general premise of the government thinking this is the optimal way to get rid of their superpowered kids problem) fall apart if you think too much about them, and some of the kids Nana goes up against are sleazy and unlikeable in over the top ways (which makes it easy for her to stick to her convictions all these kids deserve to die at first). In particular, I have to give a heads up for some sleazy guys doing and saying sleazy things, though the show never gets too overbearing or graphic with it (and the gore is generally PG-13 level as well).

Basically. There are some truly ridiculous happenings in this show. But how ridiculous and pulpy and over the top it is can be part of the appeal, and it’s fun to just sit back and watch the spectacle of Nana and her peers head-scratching machinations.

So, while certainly not an anime with airtight construction or flawless quality and depth, I found Nana an overall entertaining watch, especially as a fan of cat-and-mouse murder-y shenanigans, and thought it has a very compelling main character and managed to end on a heartwrenching (but earned) note. I definitely wouldn’t say no to a second season and would be interested to see where things go from here.

#anime overview #sleepy princess in the demon castle #jujutsu kaisen #talentless nana #munou na nana #maoujo de oyasumi #fall 2020 anime #anime #my reviews

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marjansmarwani · 3 years

Text

we’re not broken, just bent

7.1k || ao3

When the school year started, Carlos Reyes had not been expecting to fall for the new English teacher. When he met TK Strand, Carlos had not expected to find the love he had always wanted so close at hand. Now that they have each other everything seems just a bit brighter, and a bit lighter. Navigating the twists of turns or life and teaching and relationships isn’t always easy, but if Carlos gets to keep TK Strand in his life, he will do anything to make it work - even if he doesn’t always get it right on the first try.

Or, Teacher AU, Part 2

Revisiting one of my favorite AUs for Day 6 of Carlos Reyes Week. Find the first part here.

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“You would think that by now you would know better than to have your phone out at my table, Carlos Alberto Reyes.”

Carlos looked, startled, from his phone to find his mother looking at him pointedly while his dad tried not to look too amused from his seat across from Carlos. He blinked, before realizing he must have been staring at his phone for longer than he had thought before hastily sliding it back into his pocket. “Sorry,” he offered sheepishly, “were you saying something?”

His father didn’t even bother to contain his laughter at that and his mother rolled her eyes, “I was, but now I’m more interested to know who this boy that has you glued to your phone is.”

“Who says it’s a boy?” Carlos said defensively, ignoring the feeling of heat climbing up his cheeks.

“Unless something significant has changed in the past 2 weeks I’d say it’s a pretty safe bet, mijo,” his mother deadpanned. “He must be something special to make you smile like that.”

“I wasn’t smiling.”

His mom looked unimpressed, but his dad snorted outright, “it’s a good thing you’re a good teacher kid, because you would make a lousy actor.”

“You know if you guys are just going to keep ganging up on me I might just stop coming over for Sunday lunches.”

“It’s not wise to make empty threats Carlos, we all know you can’t resist my cooking.”

“I wonder what it’s like to have nice parents.”

Both of his parents ignored his jab. His dad returned his attention to his lunch while his mother leaned closer, “you know I have to tease you, Carlos, it’s my job. But if this boy makes you as happy as those smiles seem to indicate, then I am happy for you. I’d also like to meet him,” she added almost as an afterthought.

“Mom.”

“It’s a mother’s prerogative, Carlos. You should bring him by for lunch one Sunday.”

His mother was looking at him earnestly, but Carlos turned his gaze instead to the food on his plate, “things are still pretty new,” he admitted, “I don’t want to move too fast. He’s still a little gun shy from some past experiences, I want to make sure we go at a pace that works for him.”

He could feel the gaze of both of his parents on him now, but he kept his focus on his plate. It was something that he had been reminding himself of every day. TK had opened up to him, had told him everything and all the ways his ex had hurt him. He had made huge strides and put so much of it behind him, but Carlos was still wary. He didn’t want to push too hard; he didn’t want to risk what they were starting by being too hasty. What they had right now was so good, and if being patient and a little cautious meant he got to keep it, Carlos was okay with that.

He knew his mother was studying him without even having to see her face. When he did look up and meet her eyes, she gave him a smile, “You have always had a big heart mijo, it’s one of the things that makes you so special. You’ve spent your life always looking out for others, so I just need to ask: is that what you want too? Is that what is going to make you happy?”

He holds his mother’s gaze, and can feel his father watching them both. They’re waiting for him to answer, giving him time to think about it, but he doesn’t need to: “Yes Mom, he makes me happy.”

She smiles wide and reaches out to place a hand on top of his, “Then I am sure we will love him, whenever we get to meet him.”

-----------

“How was lunch with your parents?”

Carlos looked up from the coffee machine on TK’s counter to see his boyfriend watching him from the table. Carlos shrugged as the pot finished brewing, pouring the fresh coffee into two mugs, “Pretty much the usual, but with the addition of them giving me shit about being on my phone because someone was texting me.”

“I refuse to be guilted for wanting to talk to my boyfriend,” TK declared as he accepted the offered mug, “besides, if I had to suffer through Mateo’s niece's softball game, I wasn’t going to do it alone.”

“Good to know I could bring you some comfort in such trying times.”

TK rolled his eyes at him as he settled into the seat across from him and he grinned. He studied TK for a moment, taking in how at ease he looked. It was a far cry from the man he had met back in September, with walls a mile high and still living out of boxes because he was too scared to put down roots. Looking around his apartment now, you would never know.

The bookshelves were haphazardly arranged with books and mementos, and the walls were covered in pictures. Some included the backdrop of the Big Apple, but more and more were of his new life here in Austin. There were pictures of TK and his team on trivia nights and bowling outings. There was a picture from the faculty-student volleyball game, and more than a few of TK and Carlos. It was a physical reminder of how far they’d come; a visual representation of their journey together.

Not that Carlos had forgotten a single moment of it, but it was still nice to see it memorialized.

That reminded him of his mom’s question earlier, and his answer. He hadn’t needed to think about it and here was the proof: he was happy. It had only been a few months, but being with TK Strand was everything Carlos had always wanted, but had been becoming less and less sure he would ever get.

“They asked about you, actually,” he finally said, breaking the comfortable silence.

TK looked up abruptly, surprise written all over his face, “They did?”

Carlos nodded, “They, uh...they want you to come over for lunch with me some week.”

“Oh.”

The response was soft, but it set Carlos’s nerves on end. They were in such a good place, he didn’t want to ruin this. He should have never brought it up, “I told them it was too soon,” he said quickly, “that we were taking it slow.”

“Oh,” TK said again, voice still quiet, “okay.”

There was something in his expression Carlos couldn’t quite identify, but before he could dive deeper into it, TK changed the subject.

“Remind me again why we always seem to save all this for Sunday night?”

Carlos glanced down to his abandoned stack of papers waiting to be graded and back to find TK looking at him mournfully beside his own stack.

“Because we are responsible adults who understand time management?” he offered.

“Sounds right,” TK agreed, turning his focus back down to the paragraph he had been reading. Carlos finished the paper he had been on before he decided they needed fresh coffee and reached for the next one in the stack, only to frown as he read the first line: In the novel Things Fall Apart, the main character Okonkwo…

He doesn’t read the rest, because his classes don’t read Things Fall Apart. He holds it up to TK instead, “I think this is one of yours.”

TK scowled at the offending paper, “Do you want to grade it?”

“I do not.”

“And here I thought you liked me.”

Carlos gave him an unimpressed look and pushed the paper towards him. TK took the offered paper with a dramatic sigh, “I love teaching, I really do, but every time I let the grading pile up I question my life choices all over again.”

“I guess that is on us for deciding to teach English,” Carlos mused, “I hear other content areas don’t have to grade piles of writing each week.”

“So you’re saying we should switch content areas? Just show up tomorrow and tell Judd we’re teaching new stuff now?”

“Gym teacher always did sound kind of appealing,” Carlos admitted wistfully, “it would be a lot less grading.”

“Now that is an idea I can get behind,” TK said appreciatively, running a suggestive gaze over Carlos’s form, “does it come with those little shorts?”

Carlos gave his boyfriend an exasperated look before reaching over to grab a pen, which he threw at him, “Focus, Strand. Work now, play later.”

“Authoritative too - I’m liking gym teacher Carlos more and more.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Prepping for your SAT tutoring sessions?”

“Yes, actually. Which is why I really need to get this done, if you don’t mind.”

The words had far more bite than he had intended and he regretted them the moment they were out of his mouth. TK’s expression softened as he handed the pen Carlos had just tossed at him, “I’m sorry Carlos, I know you have a lot on your plate right now. I didn’t mean to distract you.”

“No,” Carlos countered, running a hand through his hair, “you’re fine, I’m sorry for snapping. I’m just a little tense, I think.”

“Can’t imagine why,” TK said lightly, “it’s not like you were asked to take over SAT prep for the entire 12th grade on top of everything you already do or anything.”

“Not the whole thing, just the English portion.”

“That’s enough Carlos. And you’re going to do great with it because you're an amazing teacher. And I’m going to help you, however I can - starting with shutting up and getting my work done so you can get some work done, I promise.”

TK gave him a smile and Carlos watched as he returned to his work, biting on his lip absentmindedly as he read, reaching down occasionally to write something in the margins. As he thought he gently tapped his pen against his mouth and when he went to stretch his shirt rode up ever so slightly, giving Carlos a peek at his toned chest. As all this was happening, Carlos made a decision.

“One more hour, then we put it away,” he announced.

TK glanced at him in surprise, “You sure? We still have a lot to do.”

“Nobody’s going to die if these assignments aren’t graded tonight,” Carlos reminded him. “Besides, I can think of many other things I would rather do on a Sunday night when I have you all to myself, Mr. Strand.”

TK confused expression melted and a coy grin took its place, “Oh, is that so Mr. Reyes?”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait an hour to find out.”

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

“Remind me again what we’re doing?”

“We’re putting up a bulletin board of 9th graders who have been on the honor roll for the first two quarters.”

“Uh-huh. And why am I - someone who does not teach 9th graders - the one helping you?”

“Because Marwani and Chavez get too distracted during this kind of stuff and while your boyfriend would usually be my choice, he’s grading essays. And you know how he gets when he’s grading essays. Besides, don’t pretend like you’re hating the chance to get to see some more of my face, Reyes.”

Carlos rolled his eyes at Paul as he handed him the next stack of papers to be stapled to the bulletin board in the front entry of the school, “That is blatantly false, I object.”

“Then maybe it’s the fact that you’re too nice to tell me no.”

“I am not too nice to leave you stranded here with no help Strickland, don’t tempt me.”

“It always does my heart good to hear the dulcet tones of inter-grade level cooperation,” a new voice said wryly and Carlos twisted around to see Judd Ryder approaching. “Do y’all need a babysitter or can you play nice?”

“I think we can handle it,” Carlos assured him, “but if not I’ll let you know.”

“Please try not too, I have so much paperwork to catch up on.”

“Ah, the glamorous life of an administrator,” Paul noted as he stapled more student names up onto the board, “next you’re going to wow us with tales of your endless meetings.”

“You laugh now, but give it a few more years and you might just decide to give it a try yourself. I think you'd have a knack for it - both of you.”

“But if we took you up on that you’d be down two teachers,” Carlos pointed out, “better not risk it.”

“Besides,” Paul added as he climbed down from the chair he had been standing on, “I greatly prefer only having to deal with misbehaving teenagers. You can have all the problem-causing adults, thank you very much.”

“I’d try to argue, but you’re right. Sometimes I miss the days where the kids were the only ones I was responsible for. Since I’ve got you here though Reyes, I wanted to check in - how’s the SAT prep going?”

Carlos shrugged, “we’re having our first session tonight, but the signup sheet makes it look like there should be a good turn out.”

“Good. Thanks again for taking on the extra work, I know it can’t have been easy.”

Carlos shrugged again, “if it helps them then why not? It’s only a few sessions, not a big deal.”

Judd nodded and gave him a smile, “Still, I really appreciate it. I do actually have stuff to do so I’m going to head back to my office, try to behave yourselves out here.”

With a wave to them both he was gone, and Paul turned to Carlos with raised eyebrows, “It’s only a few sessions, not a big deal? Man, talk about brown-nosing: you have been a walking stress headache since you took that on.”

“Yeah, but that was all the prep work. Running the actual sessions should be fine.”

“Either you’re Superman or you’re lying to yourself.”

“How are things going in the 9th grade wing? I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to stop by in a while.”

Paul’s look clearly stated how much subtlety Carlos lacked, but he answered regardless, “Pretty good. No major drama for the past few months, thank god. Just a lot of the typical teen drama.”

“Then I guess they don’t change all that much because that’s pretty much how the Seniors are, with the added bonus of college applications. How’s Seth doing?”

“Better. He’s been doing some one on ones with TK and I think they’ve really helped.”

“I think they’ve helped them both,” Carlos admitted, “I think being able to see his past as something to help someone else has been a good thing.”

Paul smiled sadly as he began to gather up the extra supplies, “I’m happy for him. I hated seeing him so ashamed about it, and no amount of saying it was fine ever seemed to get through to him.”

“Are you calling TK Strand stubborn Paul?”

“Perish the thought.”

Carlos laughed as he helped Paul gather the last of the supplies and they turned back towards the 9th grade wing and Paul’s classroom. They walked in silence for a bit before Paul spoke, “Are you sure you don’t need any help with these extra sessions? I don’t know how much help I would be with the actual content part as a science teacher, but if you just want another body in the room or something all you have to do is ask.”

Carlos shook his head and gave the other man a smile, “I’m good Paul, really. Besides, TK has already offered at least 6 times.”

“Still, if you need anything...”

“If I need any help with a bulletin board, I’ll know exactly who to call.”

Paul rolled his eyes but made no comment as they neared his classroom. As they walked by the door to TK’s neighboring room Carlos paused. TK was walking through the room, glancing at student’s papers as they worked. As Carlos watched he paused and crouched down next to a student desk, looking at something on their paper, listening as the student asked their question. He answered, but as he was getting back up he looked towards the door and gave Carlos a smile that warmed him from the inside out.

Carlos smiled back, hoping that even a fraction of the affection he felt for the other man showed in the simple gesture. He lingered for only a moment more before he stepped out of the doorway, hoping he had left before he was spotted by any of his boyfriend’s students. The last time they had caught him in the doorway they hadn’t stopped teasing TK for a week, which meant that Carlos had gotten to hear about it for a week.

Paul noticed his hasty retreat and snorted, “Scared of some 15-year-olds, Reyes?”

“Not willing to deal with my annoyed boyfriend if said 15-year-olds drive him nuts for a week.”

Paul shook his head as he unlocked his classroom door, holding it open so Carlos could follow him in. They dropped the supplies on a table in the back before Carlos glanced at his watch.

“And I have a class starting in 3 minutes. Guess this is goodbye then.”

“Yeah, but try not to be such a stranger. I know you may not like us all as much as your boyfriend, but we’re still here you know.”

“Who are you again?”

Paul rolled his eyes, “everyone’s a comedian,” he muttered.

Carlos grinned, but paused right before he stepped out the door, “we should try to do something as a group after school, soon,” he amended, and Paul smiled at him.

“Apology accepted Reyes. Now get lost before you’re late for class.”

--------

At the end of his first SAT prep session, Carlos gathered his bag and headed out of his room, locking the door behind him. It had gone better than he had expected because, despite all his insistence that it would be fine, he had been nervous. But it had gone well, really. Yes, the extra prep work wasn’t ideal and it did cut into his free time, but now that the first one was done he realized that he had actually enjoyed it. Which was certainly not a realization he thought he would be having today.

If he was being completely honest with himself, he had been hesitant from the moment Judd had approached him. He wasn’t a fan of the concept of the SATs as a whole to start with, but like them or not they were a part of the college admission process, as Judd had reminded him. More than that, there were scholarships that were dependent on SAT scores. They were a necessary evil their students who were applying to college needed to face, and while maybe some could afford private tutors, most couldn’t.

Looking at it from that perspective, of trying to give students a leg up in an unfair situation, had helped to justify the extra time spent to himself. Now after their first session, he realized that he should have done it regardless. This was nothing more than kids wanting to learn, and he could never say no to that.

He left his room but instead of heading towards the exit, he turned towards TK’s classroom instead. He had told him that they could meet up after he was done, but TK has been insistent that he would wait for Carlos, that he had more than enough work to keep him busy while Carlos was working. Objectively Carlos knew that was true, but the thought that TK had wanted to wait for him to continue their habit of leaving together each day even when his day was significantly longer than usual filled him with such affection he couldn’t even put it into words. If he had to though, he would say it felt a little bit like love.

But he quickly abandoned that thought process. They hadn’t said those words yet and Carlos didn’t want to push. Slow and steady was their pace, and Carlos was loath to do anything to jeopardize what they had.

When he turned the corner into TK’s hallway to find the lone light of his classroom shining into the dark corridor, he was surprised to hear voices coming from the room. He approached quietly, peeking his head into the room and surprised to find his boyfriend sitting at his desk alone.

TK looked up at the sound of his footsteps and smiled at him, holding up his phone so Carlos could see that it was on, and on speaker. There was an unfamiliar voice coming over the line and TK indicated for Carlos to wait a moment before he turned his attention back to the phone, “Dad, I’m going to have to go now, but I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay, kiddo. Love you.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

With that TK hung up the phone and beamed at Carlos, “Hey babe, how’d the session go?”

“It went really well, actually,” Carlos admitted as he entered the room.

“I told you it would, but I’m still proud of you.”

Carlos smiled even wider at that, “Thanks, TK.” He watched as TK got up from his desk and began to gather his papers and begin piling them into his bag. “How’s your dad?”

“He’s good,” TK said absently as he searched his desk for something. He made a triumphant noise as he found it, placed it in his bag and zipped it, hiking it up on his shoulder as he turned to face Carlos, “He’s coming to visit.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He has a good amount of vacation time saved up and figured escaping a New York winter for a bit might not be such a bad idea.”

“Any idea when?”

“Three weeks from now.”

“Wow, that’s exciting,” Carlos said, but really all he felt was panic. He didn’t know how they were supposed to approach this. He wasn’t sure if TK was ready to cross the “meet the parents” bridge, and he didn’t know how to ask. He also wasn’t sure how to avoid it if he wasn’t.

His anxiety spiral was interrupted by TK crossing to him and taking his hand before leading the way to the door. “He can’t wait to meet you.”

“Oh,” Carlos said, unable to hide his surprise, “is that what you want?”

TK froze at the doorway, turning to face Carlos with a furrowed brow, “Of course it is. You’re one of the most important parts of my life, of course I want you to meet my dad. Why, do you not want to?”

“No!” Carlos said hastily, “No, I don’t mind. It’s just, with the whole taking things slow and everything I wasn’t sure…”

He trailed off and TK’s expression softened as he dropped Carlos's hand and instead reached up to cup his face, “Carlos Reyes, you are somebody I am proud to be with, and I cannot wait to show you off to my dad.”

The intensity of his expression took Carlos’s breath away and they stood like that for several long moments: TK’s hand on Carlos’s face as they stood alone in the evening silence of the empty high school.

All too soon TK lowered his hand and gave a lighter grin, “Besides, think of all the embarrassing secrets you’ll get to learn, if you want to come that is.”

Carlos reached out and took TK’s hand in his own and gave him a warm smile, “Well, how could I possibly turn down an offer like that?”

---------

“Are you sure it’s not too soon though?”

“Carlos,” Michelle said, exasperation evident in her tone, “it’s been 3 months.”

“Yeah, but-”

“But what, Carlos? It’s been 3 months, you guys are solid, his dad is coming across the country to visit him and he wants you to meet him. It’s not that complicated.”

He scowled at Michelle who turned her attention back to her salad, jabbing at the arugula with more force than strictly necessary, “You’re mean today.”

“I am not mean, you are insane. He likes you, Carlos! He wants you to meet his dad! It’s not weird so stop trying to make it seem like it is!”

Carlos groaned and ran a hand across his face, “It’s just that we agreed to go slow, because he wasn’t sure if he was ready for anything else and meeting the parents seems like it might be surpassing the ‘going slow’ plan. I already got around it with my parents and I wasn’t expecting it to come up on his end.”

“Your parents want to meet him?”

“Yeah, they mentioned it at lunch a few weeks ago.”

“Did you ask TK about it?”

“I mentioned it.”

The look Michelle gave him was withering, “I would throw something at you right now but I don’t think anything in my salad would make enough of an impact.”

“There’s no need for violence, Michelle.”

“There’s no need for someone as smart as you to make such idiotic decisions either, but here we are.”

Carlos gave her a baffled look and she rolled her eyes before setting down her fork to explain, “When you mentioned that your parents wanted to meet him, what did he say?”

“He didn’t. I mentioned it and he looked kind of like a deer in the headlights, so I told him that I had already told them it was too soon.”

Michelle stared at him for a moment before dropping her head into her hands with a groan. When she looked up again a few seconds later her voice was measured as she spoke, “Did you even ask him if he wants to meet your parents before you made up your mind?”

Carlos held her gaze for several long seconds before he admitted, “No.”

“Carlos Reyes, I love you, but sometimes you can be an idiot.”

---------

Carlos rang the bell and waited anxiously outside the door of TK’s apartment, twisting the paper bag in his hand nervously. TK had texted him that they had gotten back from the airport and that he had picked up stuff for dinner, so logically he knew everything should be pretty much normal. But there was also a huge addition that made everything seem so far from normal Carlos could barely wrap his head around it. That was probably his anxiety talking, but the fact remained.

The door swung open to reveal his boyfriend but rather an older man with a striking resemblance to his boyfriend. Their eyes met and after a moment of confusion Owen Strand - for that had to be who this was - stepped forward with a smile and an extended hand, “You must be Carlos.”

Carlos matched the man’s smile and took the offered hand, “Yes sir.”

TK’s father stepped aside to let him in and waved off his formalities, “Please, call me Owen.”

“Well then Owen, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, Carlos. What do you have there?”

“Oh,” Carlos said, suddenly remembering the bag in his hands, “Biscuits from Olamaie - a local restaurant.”

“You didn’t have to bring anything,” Owen assured him, “but judging by the smell of those I think I’m glad you did.”

Carlos smiled at the older man, who stepped further into the apartment, clearing the entry hall for Carlos could enter as well. As he steps into the main room his eyes find the kitchen, where TK is pulling a stack of plates from the cupboard, “Hey Carlos, I’m just getting dinner together. Why don’t you and my dad get settled at the table.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” he asked, partially because anytime TK stepped into the kitchen it was a cause for concern in his experience, and partially because Carlos dreaded the idea of having to make small talk with his boyfriend’s father.

TK paused long enough to roll his eyes, “it’s already cooked, all I have to do is warm it up and get it on plates. Pretty sure I can handle that.”

“Okay, but if you change your mind…”

“Go,” TK said with a laugh and Carlos grinned before heading to the table and joining Owen. He sat down and looked at the other man, who was clearly appraising him. “How was your flight?” he ventured, not sure what else to say.

“Good, it was good,” Owen said with a vague nod. Carlos nodded too and they lapsed into silence. He was searching his mind, trying to come up with something to say, wishing he had done a google search of “conversation starters with your boyfriend’s parent” before he came when Owen broke the silence.

“Listen, Carlos,” he said, glancing over at the kitchen where TK was still intently assembling dinner, “I know we just met, but I wanted to make sure I got a chance to say thank you.”

Carlos frowned, he had absolutely no idea where this was coming from, “Thank you for what?”

“For being there for TK, for helping him find himself again. He wasn’t in the best place when he came down here, but I can tell from our phone calls and now seeing him again that he is happier than I have seen him in far too long. And I know that a good part of that is because of you, so thank you.”

“I’m happy you think he’s happy with me,” Carlos countered, “but I didn’t do much. Everything he did, all the healing and growing, is because of what he did, not anyone else. I was just in the room when it happened.”

He wasn’t sure what reaction he expected from the older man, but a beaming smile was not one of them. “I really am so glad that you found each other,” he said, voice thick, “and I am so glad he has someone like you.” He paused and gestured to the pictures lining the walls, “having my only kid move across the country has been hard not only because I miss him, but also because I was worried about him. Coming here and seeing this, seeing you with him, makes me feel so much better. So thank you, really.”

Carlos doesn’t know what to say to that, but he is saved by the arrival of TK bearing a platter of food and a stack of plates. He jumps up to help him carry them to the table and sits down with him.

“What have you two been talking about?” TK asks as he serves food onto plates for everyone.

“Oh, just getting to know each other,” Owen responded breezily, “and I think I like this one TK.”

“That’s good dad,” TK quipped, meeting Carlos’s eyes, “because I like him too.”

Carlos smiled back at him and as the food was passed around, the conversation morphed. Soon enough it was Owen holding court, filling Carlos in on all of teen TK’s antics while TK grimaced from his seat.

“And then,” Owen was saying, already laughing, “he decided…”

“Okay!” TK interrupted, face going red, “I think that’s more than enough for one night. Pace yourself dad, you’ve still got a couple more nights here. Wouldn’t want to use up all your material.”

“Oh, don’t worry kid: I have no intention of leaving any stone unturned or any story untold.”

“Great,” TK deadpanned, “remind me again why I was excited for you to visit?”

Carlos chuckled and TK turned his attention to him, “And you are enjoying this far too much.”

“I would say I am enjoying it the appropriate amount, actually,” Carlos corrected.

TK narrowed his eyes at him but Carlos just laughed before glancing at his watch, “it’s really late, I should go and let you two get some sleep too.”

“See you tomorrow, Carlos?” Owen asked as Carlos rose from the table.

“Count on it,” Carlos assured him, “there are so many more stories I still need to hear.”

“I’ll walk you out, you traitor,” TK said with a roll of his eyes.

Carlos waited until they were at the door before he spoke, “I really like him.”

“You only like him because he provides you with premium blackmail material.”

“True,” Carlos mused, “but I also like him because he’s a lot like you. Besides, when you meet my parents it will be exactly the same, I assure you. I’m just enjoying this before the tables are turned.”

TK's gaze was piercing as he studied Carlos, “When I meet your parents?”

Carlos nodded, “When. As in, whenever you are ready. I realized I should have asked you if you wanted to before just assuming you didn’t. So the ball is in your court: if you want to, I’d be honored to bring you home to my parents.”

TK smiled and leaned in to kiss him. When he pulled away - far too soon for Carlos’s liking - he smiled, “I’d like that a lot, and I think we should. Maybe next week, after my dad leaves?”

Carlos nodded, “consider it a date, Tyler Kennedy.”

“Oh he did not tell you that!” he exclaimed, throwing a glare back to where his father was still sitting.

“I like it.”

“And you’re lucky I like you, not everyone can get away with using that and live.”

“Oh, so I’m special?”

He said it as a joke, but the way TK held his gaze nearly toppled him. There was so much more intensity in his eyes than Carlos had been expecting, “You’re very special to me, Carlos Reyes.”

They head each other’s gaze in the doorway to TK’s apartment in the late hours of the night and Carlos could practically feel all the things going unsaid between them. Now wasn’t the time to say them yet, but maybe, he thought, that time could be soon.

----------

Carlos checked the clock on the wall above his desk. 8:01, the exam had just started. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He knew that there was no reason to be here, he knew there was nothing more he could do. He had spent 5 weeks preparing these kids though, and had offered to come in early on the Saturday of the exam for any last-minute questions and pep talks. There had been more than a few takers but now they were all in the gym, opening their test booklets and Carlos was left with nothing more to do but wait.

Logically he knew he could wait and worry just as well from home, but somehow being here made him feel a little better. He pulled a stack of papers from the turn in tray on his desk on the pretense of grading them while he waited, but he knew that he wouldn’t get anything done. He was just considering maybe attempting to organize something instead when there was a soft knock at his door. He looked up to see TK, standing in the doorway with a tray holding two paper cups, a bag, and a warm smile, “Hey you.”

“Hey yourself, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” he added hastily, “I just wasn’t expecting you.”

“Why, because it’s Saturday before 9 am and you're in your classroom?”

“More or less, yeah.”

TK grinned as he entered, setting down the bag to drag one of the chairs up to Carlos’s desk so he could join him.

“Usually you’d be right,” he admitted as he pulled two foil wrapped burritos out of the bag and handed one to Carlos, “but I knew you would be here, and I knew you’d spend the whole time worrying. So I figured you should at least have breakfast while you worried. And coffee,” he added pressing one of the cups into Carlos’s hand.

Carlos was too stunned to say anything, so he took a sip of the coffee. It was perfect, exactly the way he liked it. He set down the cup and studied TK, who was sipping his own coffee.

“You’re perfect, have I ever told you that?”

“Maybe, but a guy can never get too sick of hearing it.”

“So modest too.”

TK rolled his eyes but smiled as he settled into his seat at the corner of Carlos’s desk, unwrapping his burrito.

“Thanks for coming, I appreciate it. I could really use the company.”

TK nodded, “I figured as much. Besides, I kind of like spending time here, it makes me a little nostalgic.” At Carlos’s questioning look he explained, “this is where we had our first real conversation, and where I decided that you were someone I should risk getting to know, even though I was afraid of it ending up exactly where it did.”

“Oh, so you were scared of me?”

“Eh, I was,” TK said dismissively, “turns out you’re not that scary. And,” he added, voice going more sincere, “it turns out I wasn’t as broken as I thought. I just needed someone to help me see that.”

Carlos smiled at him, but soon enough his eyes were pulled back to the clock. It was 8:05 now.

“Okay, spill.”

“What?” Carlos asked, looking over at TK with a bewildered expression.

“Spill. I know you’re nervous, but maybe if you tell me why, I can help.”

Carlos took a deep breath and let his eyes wander to the clock one more time before turning his focus back to TK, “I know I’ve done everything I could think of, but this is still an important test. Most of the kids taking it today are taking it again in hopes of raising their scores so they can qualify for more scholarships. There’s so much riding on this; it could determine some of their futures. And, I just don’t know if I did enough - if I was enough.”

“Carlos…”

“There are so many other people in the department TK, I don’t know why they asked me. I’m not anything special, and this whole time I keep thinking that someone else could have done a better job. I’m worried that I let these kids down.”

“Carlos,” TK said again, more forcefully, “you are special. Don’t ever say you’re not again. You were asked because you are an amazing teacher. Don’t deny it,” he said when Carlos opened his mouth to interrupt, “because I’m right. I’ve seen you with your classes. They don’t only respect you, they trust you. They feel safe enough to ask you questions, to show that they don’t know something. And you have never responded to any question with anything less than understanding and compassion. You always find a way to help. That’s why they asked you - because you are the best at this. Sure, maybe someone else might be better with the technicalities, but no one can hold a candle to Carlos Reyes when it comes to helping students grow. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

Carlos could already feel emotions building within him at TK’s words and the sincerity with which he said them, but his last sentence froze him in his tracks. He was pretty sure his brain was short circuiting; it kept playing the last sentence on loop: It’s one of the things I love about you.

“Carlos?” TK asked, expression furrowing in concern, “are you okay?”

“Do you mean that?” Carlos asked instead.

The look he gave him in response was truly baffled, “mean what?”

“You said ‘it’s one of the things I love about you.’”

TK’s eyes widened for just a second, before he smiled, “Yes,” he said softly, “I do. I love you, Carlos Reyes, because of all of that and because of so many other things.”

Carlos blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears that had tried to sneak out without his permission. This was everything he had ever wanted; TK was everything he had ever dreamed of. He had wanted this for so long, and he had felt the same way for TK for months now, even if he had been denying it. To hear that his boyfriend felt the same way meant more to him than he could ever possibly say.

So he settled on the next best thing, “I love you too, Tyler Kennedy, more than I have ever loved anyone. More than I thought I could ever love anyone.”

TK rolled his eyes, but it did nothing to detract from his beaming smile, “You just had to use the full name, didn’t you?”

“Unfortunately for you, I love it because it’s yours; and I happen to love everything about you.”

“You are a sap Carlos Reyes.”

“Yeah, but that’s one of the things you love about me, right?”

“Definitely,” TK agreed, before glancing at the clock. Carlos followed his gaze; it was 8:15 now.

“We still have 3 hours,” TK noted, “I think that might be time to get through some of the other things, if you’re interested.”

Carlos leaned forward to give him a quick but tender kiss. He took a moment to rest his forehead on TK’s, savoring the feel of the contact for another moment before he pulled back and grinned at him, “I’m interested in anything, as long as it’s with you.”

-----------

The next afternoon Carlos pulled into the driveway of his childhood home. He put the car in park and turned to look at his passenger. TK was fiddling with the collar of his shirt and anxiously smoothing it for imaginary wrinkles. Carlos reached over and grabbed one of his hands.

“Hey,” he said, “stop worrying, you look perfect. They’re going to love you.”

“Are you sure?” TK asked and Carlos’s heart hurt to hear his voice so small and full of doubt, “I can’t imagine that too many parents would love the idea of their child dating an addict.”

“What matters is that you have overcome it,” Carlos said firmly, “and that I love you. That’s all they need to know, and it will be enough.”

They had said those words roughly a hundred times since TK had first let it slip in his classroom yesterday morning and each time Carlos could feel his heartbeat just a little bit faster. He loved TK Strand and he was loved by TK Strand. Nothing in the world had ever felt so good. Now he was going to take TK inside to meet his parents where he would undoubtedly learn all sorts of embarrassing stories and become that much further entrenched in Carlos’s life and in his heart. He couldn’t think of a better possible next step than that.

He leaned over to press a kiss to TK’s lips, smiling when he felt some of the tension melt from the other man. When he pulled away he met TK’s gorgeous eyes and squeezed the hand he was still holding.

“It’s going to be fine and I’m going to be right beside you, no matter what.”

“Promise?”

Carlos nodded with a smile, “Yeah, I promise. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #tarlos #my writing #tuserjamie #usermaximus #userac #userkimmy #userjilly #tuserpaige #aanathema #jazzyjezz #carlosreyesweek2021

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bestworstcase · 3 years

Text

i’ve been thinking about this post from a couple days ago and how i shared my four questions of character development but didn’t actually give an example of what my answers look like and it’s bugging me a bit because it occurs to me that it’s kinda just. lobbing a tool out there without documentation on how to use it properly rip

so uh. further details with examples ft. the bitter snow cast.

#1: what are they looking for?

all characters have an UNFULFILLED DESIRE that motivates them to action. the more central to the story the character is, the harder this must be to attain, as a general rule. this is, ideally, NOT an exterior goal. instead, it is the intrinsic wellspring from which the character’s goals and aspirations emerge.

EXAMPLES:

cassandra: it’s complicated. she is a character defined more by what she lacks than what she wants, per se; she does not feel secure of her place in the world, she craves trust because she feels she is distrusted, she craves respect because she feels she is overlooked, she craves love because she feels unloved. she doesn’t want to be a servant. she is terrified of insignificance, of being forgotten. she does not fit, and this hurts her. she is riddled with self-loathing and self-doubt because of the discrimination she has endured due to her saporian heritage. but if pressed to explain what she wants… she can’t summon a true answer. she doesn’t know what she wants, so what she is looking for fundamentally is to figure that out.

rapunzel: complicated again. she is a character defined in large part by what other people want from her. a people-pleaser who becomes anxious, persistent—even forceful—in her efforts to make everyone happy. she isn’t accustomed to paying attention to her own desires, and tends to neglect them unless she is acutely unhappy. i think she is looking for herself, more than anything.

varian: he is searching for answers. he wants to understand how the world works, to discover what it has to teach him. simple.

caine: she is looking for freedom. her life has been a long succession of horrific losses: her father was brutally taken from her, her mother became horribly ill, poverty and familial obligation robbed her of what remained of her childhood, she became disillusioned with the faith her aunt tried to share with her, her best friend died in her arms. she wants vengeance, and she also wants to stop carrying these ghosts with her, and she also wants to stop looking over her shoulder all the time and waiting for the next loss to catch up with her.

zhan tiri: she is looking for peace. she is the oldest living being in existence, and she came from nothing, and every single significant moment in her unfathomably long life has been soaked in blood and pain and death. her intrinsic nature is to hunger—always needing, always restless, always empty—and more than anything, she longs to break this endless circle of want.

#2: what’s stopping them?

every character must have an OBSTACLE which DISRUPTS their pursuit of what they’re looking for. it is the thing standing in their way. this is NOT the antagonist—it is the reason the character cannot easily overcome the antagonist. ideally it is something intrinsic.

EXAMPLES:

cassandra: she has, again, a complicated answer—because the very thing she is looking for is the same thing that stands in her way. how can she discover her basic, most primal want if she can’t even articulate her goals? she wants, at the beginning of the story, to join the watch—but not because she wants to join the watch, so much as joining the watch is a proxy for cassandra assimilating fully, for being coronan through and through, for scrubbing herself clean of the stain of her parents’ legacy—and that proxy is itself merely a proxy for her desire to belong—and her desire to belong is, in turn, a proxy for the agony of not knowing herself. she is piling bandaids on top of bandaids on top of bandaids on top of hemorrhages.

rapunzel: she is trapped in her own story. an evil witch kidnapped the magical lost princess, who escaped and came home; a miracle. the sundrop gifted its power to the lost princess; destiny. she a peacemaker and a mediator; it is her job to fix problems. narratives piled on narratives and she’s lost—or rather, never had—the insight to recognize that there is more to her than the stories people tell about her.

varian: his crushing need for approval is the key thing standing in his way. it isn’t just that his father’s disappointment or his village’s distrust make him warier of free experimentation; it is also, and perhaps even more so, that he is afraid of finding the wrong answers. answers that won’t help people. answers that his friends and allies won’t like. answers that change his basic view of the world in ways that feel antithetical to who he is. this fear holds him back from pursuing the truth.

caine: she is looking in the wrong direction; she is trying to not care, as if by not caring she can trick the universe into not taking anything else away. she is someone who cares so deeply trying to sever herself from everything she cares about without actually letting it go, which is of course an exercise in futility.

zhan tiri: what she wants is, quite simply, impossible. this is not a human answer because she is not human. contentment is and will always be something she is not capable of feeling, and chasing it is nothing but another exercise in insatiable hunger.

#3: what are they going to do about it?

this is about ACTION. it is not an option for a character to do nothing; the nature of the unfulfilled desire is that they are COMPELLED to seek it, somehow, by some means. if the answer to this question does not involve the character DOING SOMETHING, you need to return to question number one and fix the answer there.

EXAMPLES:

cassandra: she is going to fling herself headlong and without hesitation after whatever concrete goals feel like they might “fix” the lack she feels. even if a short term goal (like helping rapunzel sneak out) clashes or is contradictory with a longer term goal (like joining the watch). even if it is an obviously stupid idea (like her secret correspondence with rosalia morcant). even if it is an impulse with little if any rational basis (like fixating on finding varian, or joining the fight in socona). she is, essentially, throwing stuff at the wall to see what sticks, because without knowing what she wants, she can’t form a coherent “quest” for herself.

rapunzel: she is going to follow the path of least resistance with whatever narrative feels the least restrictive to her at any given time. when she is fresh out of the tower, reconnecting with her real family and throwing herself into becoming a princess is that narrative. later, taking adira’s and xavier’s advice to pursue her destiny by questing for the moonstone replaces that narrative. since none of these narratives fully suit her—they are all boxes she tries to fit into—she will eventually grow discontent and cast them aside to try something new, until she finally breaks this cycle.

varian: he is going to fall into a cycle of hesitant side-stepping leading to crisis leading to frantic charge forward until he identifies this pattern and chooses to step calmly but courageously into unknown territory. his instinct is to try to go around, to find an oblique solution, but to get what he wants he will ultimately need to just face his fear head on—and deep down he is willing to do that.

caine: she is going to run, and fight, and keep running and fighting until her legs give out beneath her. vengeance appeals to her, and she’s going to chase it with everything she’s got while trying to protect what she has; her intense drive is tempered by caution, which manifests in a pragmatic approach to pursuit of her exterior goals.

zhan tiri: she is going to continuously and experimentally refine and broaden her definition of “hunger” with the aim of hitting on something that allows her to feel satiated. she is going to line up goals and systematically chew threw them until there’s nothing left. she is, eventually, going to devour the whole cosmos and then probably die.

#4: who do they think they are?

this is a question about the character’s SELF-IDENTIFICATION. how do they PERCEIVE themselves? how do they choose to DEFINE themselves? what do they see when they look in the mirror?

EXAMPLES:

cassandra: she is untrustworthy. she is ignored. she is likable but not lovable. she doesn’t fit anywhere. she’s empty. she’s unsure. she’s drowning in doubt. she is insignificant, unimportant. she has been wronged, somehow. she wants to be a hero. she is someone who wants to do the right thing. she never stops trying. she’s stupid and reckless and incapable and doesn’t deserve any of the things she wants. she probably cares too much.

rapunzel: she is good. she is kind. (she is better than other people, in some small way. she sees the potential for goodness that other people can’t, or won’t.) she is worthless. she exists to make the world a better place. she is a princess, so she has to lead. she is the sundrop, so she has to heal. she is strong. (she is weak.) her determination to be kind and willingness to trust are her best qualities.

varian: he’s probably a lot smarter than most people he knows. he doesn’t know anything, but he wants to. he’s reckless. he’s not good enough. he can’t replace his mom. he’s accident prone. he’s a disappointment. he moves too fast. he thinks too fast. he doesn’t really need to sleep. he’s better with chemicals and formulas and machines than people. he’s not someone people want to be friends with. he could do great things if people—especially his dad—would just believe in him for once.

caine: she is an asshole and there is nothing wrong with her. she’s callous. she’s selfish. she’s out for her own interest first. she’s fine. (it was her fault cornaīn died. it’ll be her fault if her mom dies, or if neasa dies, or if any more of her crew dies, or if cassandra dies.) she isn’t afraid, she isn’t hurt, she’s angry. the only person she can rely on is herself, and the only person she wants to rely on is herself. she’s not anxious, she’s being smart.

zhan tiri: she loves, and it hurts, and she loves anyway. there is a way to break the circle and she is going to find it; it isn’t over until the end; but nothing lasts but hunger. she has done nothing wrong, ever, in her life. she has so many regrets she could drown in them if she weren’t immortal. she is beautiful, stop screaming.

…and that’s the bedrock of a character.

every individual action, every specific goal, every thought and feeling, is ultimately guided by the clash between this internal core with the realities of the setting, plot, and choices of other characters. cognitive dissonance between answers #1-3 and answer #4 is a breeding ground for inner conflict, and answers #1-3 are the raw material from which the spine of the character’s arc is sculpted.

[bonus round: this method comes from a scene in the pre-broadway houston run of the musical wonderland, wherein a character poses these questions to alice; her answers are:

#1: “i’m looking for my lost child.*”

*this being both literally her child who is lost but also metaphorically her own sense of wonder and discovery, which she has lost touch with.

#2: “i do! i keep getting in my own way, it’s all i do!”

#3: “i’m trying to figure that out!”

#4: “i’m chloe’s mother. i’m married to jack. these people are my friends. i’m a writer. i’m a teacher. i’m the dreamer of this dream. i’m lots of things; i’m my own invention!”

and when i first listened to this audio i was blown away by just how perfectly this distilled the character of alice down to her purest essentials so i immediately adopted it for character building purposes and i have never looked back because it is simple and it works.

in this scene there is also a fifth question, “what are you afraid of?” (paraphrasing: “losing the people i love”) which i have over time sort of just lumped in with how i answer the other four, because i find it to be less evocative on its own. however, it is useful information to know about a character and i recommend keeping it in mind when answering the other four.]

#[flings writing advice into the void at 5:30 am] hello

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alolowrites · 4 years

Text

Everyone’s Got a Sweet Tooth!

Summary: Bakugou hates sweets. You don’t think this is true and begin a mission to discover his favorite candy. After all, you are the brilliant Candy Master who won’t stop until Bakugou’s sweet tooth is satisfied.

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! I’m so glad I was finally able to write a full fic for Bakugou; it’s been so long. Originally, this was supposed to be for the bingo event, but had trouble fleshing out the story’s direction. I really wanted to write this story since the plot was hilarious to me, idk why.

Please enjoy!

10.30.21 UPDATE: HI!!!!! I went back and edited the heck out of this baby since it’s my favorite Bakugou story I’ve written. I hope it is now decent lmao. Happy Halloween!!

Word Count: 2.4K+

“Katsuki, what is the meaning of all this?!”

“The hell are you talkin’ bout?”

“This!”

You marched with purpose and plopped down on the couch where he sat. Bakugou remained unfazed, clicking on the remote control. He mindlessly surfed through the channels with an attention span of an HR recruiter combing through a mountain pile of resumes. Stupid sitcoms, fake ass “reality” tv shows, QVC advertising their products like it's Black Friday all day, every day. Bakugou frowned—why does he pay so much for these useless channels?

His eyes teared away from the screen as the phone waved frantically on his left.

You huffed. “According to Maximus Heroes, you—and I quote—‘bleeping hate sweets!’”

Bakugou clicked his tongue. “Damn idiots censored my words.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is?”

“That you hate sweets!”

You viciously smacked a pillow at him, ignoring his yells. Bakugou snatched the weapon with a growl. For a soft pillow, it felt like a firm foam roller. You stood up and paced around, arms flailing in the air.

“How can my boyfriend say such a thing?!” You pointed at your signature black top hat. “Do you know who I am? I’m the lovable Candy Master, CEO of the Candy Basket Factory!”

Bakugou shrugged. “So?”

“So, you can’t say you hate sweets!” You gripped your chest, sniffling a bit. “I feel as though I’ve been betrayed.”

“Would you sit your ass down?”

Bakugou tossed the pillow at you and crossed his arm; he was too tired to deal with this nonsense. Somehow the QVC channel looked more appealing now. You begrudgingly plopped on the couch, a small pout growing on your face. Bakugou snuck a glance and sighed, tossing the remote aside.

“Are you seriously so upset about this?” Instant regret flooded through his mind as he remembered that ridiculous day. “It was a freakin’ answer to a stupid question in a stupid celebrity article.”

“…maybe…”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. You took off your signature hat and examined it; the hat was firm yet soft and had three peppermint candies artistically attached like a beautiful brooch. You moped silently for an eternity until an exciting idea rushed into your mind. Bakugou jumped as you squealed, his mouth ready for snarl, but you beat him to the punch.

“I got it!” Two hands eagerly cupped his sharp cheeks, your whimsical eyes meeting his feral ones. They did nothing to damper your beaming smile. “You don’t hate sweets; you just haven’t found your favorite candy!”

Bakugou grabbed your wrist yet didn’t pull them away. Another giggle rang throughout the living room as you shot up from the sofa. A specific look crossed your face—one that both irked and frightened Bakugou to no end; he was through dealing with your shenanigans.

“Whatever you’re thinkin’ about, the answer is no!”

“Too late! The mind is churning,” you piped, taking a cheerful step toward the doorway. Spinning on your heel, you gave a hat tip to Bakugou and declared, “I won’t rest until that sweet tooth of yours is satisfied!”

Yup, it was too late. Bakugou had no choice but to go along with this dumb idea. Closing his eyes, he slammed a pillow over his face and screamed.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Ground Zero’s hero agency was buzzing with life. Phones rang off the hook, yet all were answered to avoid the voicemail machine. Interns carried endless stacks of papers, their dying arms begging for relief and fingers stinging from brutal paper cuts. The afternoon shift sidekicks clocked in their arrival while the morning ones yawned out the door.

Everything ran like a well-oiled machine, just how Bakugou liked it. He took great pride in this, hiring only the best and brightest. However, none of them held a candle against him—the number two pro hero. Unfortunately, being a prominent hero brought lots of reports he needed to sign.

And he was not excited about this.

“Um, sir?”

“Damnit, Small Head,” Bakugou growled, halting his pen’s movement. Fiery eyes glared at the man peeking around the ajar door. “If you bring me another paper to sign, I will stab this pen in your damn eye!”

“I-I assure you that I bring no reports, sir!” Kioshi, Bakugou’s personal assistant, waddled inside the office, fixing the tie that was strangling his neck. He slid a peculiar package toward his boss and bowed his head. “You have a special delivery from the Candy Master.”

Bakugou scrunched his eyebrows. On his desk was a white box with an orange ribbon wrapped neatly in the upper left corner. A tiny card sat underneath it, and with closer inspection, had his first name written across in gold letters. Bakugou shooed Kioshi away, waiting to hear the door close to ensure absolute privacy.

At first, Bakugou had a mini stare-down with the gift. When it didn’t burst into flames, he sucked his breath and snatched the card. Bakugou turned it around to read the following message:

Everyone knows you got a sour attitude, but only I get to see that sweet side of yours. Figured these treats might do the trick. I made them just for you!

Enjoy,

C.M

P.S. These are an ~exclusive~ batch from my top-secret collection! So hush-hush!

Bakugou snorted at your writing, tossing the card aside and opening the box. His eyes narrowed at the vibrant gumdrops nestled above the black tissue paper. White sugar lightly coated the green and orange candies, each twinkling under the natural light that shined through his large window. A smirk curled on his lips; the whole package reflected his hero costume.

“Let’s see how good these are.”

Bakugou ate the green gumdrop. It was chewy and sour, the lime flavor making him twitch a bit. The sweetness kicked in ten seconds later. Bakugou tried the orange gumdrop next, and the acid was strong too but enjoyable. He soon devoured the entire box in one sitting.

Once that was done, he marched out of the office to start his daily patrol. It didn’t take long for a stupid thug to cross his path. Bakugou slammed him against the concrete wall, hauling him up with just one hand. The man trembled in fear but stopped squirming and cocked his head to the side, dumbfounded.

Bakugou growled. “What the hell are you looking at?”

“Your tongue...it got weird colors, man.”

“Eh? The fuck are you talking ‘bout?”

Bakugou peeked at his reflection on the store’s window. He recoiled when he saw the horrible swirls of green and orange covering his tongue. A vicious scowl crossed Bakugou’s face, his iron grip tightening around the thug’s collar. The guy’s high-pitched yelps fell on deaf ears.

“Fuckin’ gumdrops!”

They were crossed off the list.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“I don’t want it.”

“But, sir, the gift—”

“I know who it’s from, and I’m telling you no.”

“Sir,” Kioshi gripped the massive, cherry red treat in his hand. A black ribbon with long strings almost reached the floor. The assistant sighed. “It’s just a lollipop.”

“Do I look like a fuckin’ baby to ya?” Bakugou crossed his arms, refusing to budge on his childish decision. The irony made Kioshi roll his eyes mentally. “Give it away or something. Now get out.”

“Yes, sir…”

Lollipops were crossed off the list.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Another day, another gift Bakugou received from you.

They came sporadically and kept the hero on his toes. He never understood why you sent the gifts directly to his office; you both lived in the same apartment for crying out loud! Worst of all, he could never get a single hint on what candy he would receive next. Every time he asked—or more accurately, demanded—you shot him a coy smile and purred, “Ah, ah, ah! It’s a surprise!”

Bakugou wanted to rip his eyeballs out.

However, he reluctantly played along with your stupid game. Whenever Kioshi entered his office, Bakugou masked his slight interest with the usual scowl. If the assistant didn’t bring candy, then Bakugou blamed him for interrupting his private time. The anger was worse if Kioshi brought more reports for him to sign.

Kioshi was thankful for the days when a new candy gift arrived.

Unfortunately, the last three gifts were complete failures. The first was the strawberry licorice, which dangled in Bakugou’s hand. He took a few bites and complained that he was eating a rubber wheel. Next was a bag of colorful gummy worms. Bakugou shoved a couple in his mouth and swore he felt one of them move on its own. Finally, there was the lemon green jawbreaker; it was the size of a baseball. One look and Bakugou shouted over the phone: “You tryna give me dentures?!”

All three candies were crossed off the list. Still, you didn’t give up and sent another gift to Bakugou. He read the simple message on the card:

Chew and blow to your heart’s content, babe!

Love,

C.M

P.S. I promise this won’t change the color on your tongue, haha!

Bakugou opened the sleek, rectangular box and found a bubble gum packet inside; there were three thin pieces. He slipped one in his mouth, surprisingly pleased with the bold raspberry flavor hitting his taste buds. Bakugou skimmed the card again and did as instructed—he chewed.

Typically, an ordinary bubble gum would lose its flavor after five minutes. But the flavor in your gum only got juicier; it encouraged Bakugou to continue chewing. He then blew a tiny bubble before popping it in his mouth. Not bad, he thought as another bubble expanded in front of him. His chews became more aggressive, and the bubbles more prominent than the previous ones. Stupidly, he puffed out a massive bubble, and it grew…

…and grew…and grew until there was a loud pop.

Bakugou’s roars shook the entire building, spilling cold tea all over Kioshi’s shirt.

Bubble gum was crossed off the list.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Everything was going well down at the Candy Basket Factory. People lined up outside for the magical tours that ran every hour. Kids bounced off the walls as if they were on a sugar rush while their parents felt a migraine pounding on their heads. Inside the factory, the ceilings were high, and the walls were vibrant like the sun. Laughter rang from every corner as employees chit-chatted about their daily lives; they were relaxed yet efficiently worked to the same drumbeat.

A soft smile crept on your face. You were glad everyone was happy; it was the driving force behind your factory’s joyful spirit. Eventually, that spirit would leave these doors and touch billions of people’s hearts with your precious candies.

Just as you closed your eyes, someone barged into your office and barked your name. You chuckled, spinning the leather chair around to meet a furious Bakugou. His nostrils flared like a bull, and his menacing eyes looked ready to kill. However, the gum’s blobs stuck on his porcupine blonde hair squashed the pro hero’s intimidating aura.

“You—”

“—I’m so sorry, boss!” Nozomi panted into the room, hands on her knees as she caught her breath. “I tried stopping him, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“It’s quite alright, Zomi!” You chirped without breaking Bakugou’s intense eye contact. “I can handle him. Please let everyone know I’ll be busy with an important meeting.”

Nozomi bowed and closed the door behind her. Bakugou wasted no time complaining, his hands slamming on your desk.

“Quit sending me your cavity-infested garbage! I’ve had it with this fuckin’ game.”

“Oh, come on, babe!” You rolled forward and rested your chin on your gloved hand palm. “Can’t I just send my dashing boyfriend some sweet gifts? Get it!” You jokingly slapped his forearm. “Because candies are sweet? Man, I crack myself up at times…”

“You’re insufferable.”

You winked at him. “But that’s what you love about me!”

Bakugou gritted his teeth and looked away. A light blush tainted his cheeks; he hated how right you were. You walked around the desk and stood beside him, wiping off the fairy sugar dust on his shirt. He probably barged through the sample stand near the entrance, scaring off the poor intern.

“Alright, alright.” You gave a gentle pat. “Sorry for going a little overboard with the gifts. I was just excited about finding your favorite candy! I don’t want you hating them.”

Bakugou’s anger subsided. “Why is this so damn important to you?”

“Because I love spreading endless joy through sweets.”

The answer was simple and innocent. Bakugou blinked and was taken aback by the gentleness in your eyes.

“Candy makes everyone happy,” you chirped. “Knowing someone’s favorite candy helps me bring their smile back whenever they’re upset or lost. Can’t have the world be all mopey now, can we?”

Your fingers hovered above Bakugou’s head. The gum moved under your command and floated in the air. You flicked it into the trash bin with ease, and Bakugou murmured a quick ‘thanks’ under his breath. After ruffling his hair, you suddenly remembered something sitting on your shelf. Bakugou stared at the small pyramid of chocolate truffles coming toward him.

“I made these babies a few minutes ago,” you said, eying the plate with a proud grin. “Normally, I do a taste test and then send the gift if it satisfies my expectations. But, I got a feeling you’ll love them.”

Bakugou’s face was unreadable. You gave him a gentle nudge and encouraged him to take one. He sighed before picking a chocolate truffle; it was warm and soft, the cocoa powder dusting his fingertips. After suspiciously staring at the truffle, he ate the entire thing in one go. His eyes widened as all the flavors exploded at once. The crushed red pepper flakes, the hints of rich cinnamon and orange zest, and the bittersweet dark chocolate made from the finest quality found on Earth all danced perfectly together with every bite.

“So…” You placed the plate on the desk, watching Bakugou swallow the truffle down. “What do you think? Give me your honest opinion! Don’t sugarcoat it, haha! I’m on fire today!”

Bakugou turned away. “I’m leaving.”

“No, wait!” You hugged his bicep with a pout. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop. Just tell me if you liked the chocolate truffles.”

“They’re good.”

Your smile grew. “Good enough to be your favorite?”

“Sure,” he smirked, shoving another truffle into his mouth. You cheered on the spot after weeks of constant failures. Of course, some of the complaints were nonsense which didn’t surprise you. Bakugou was a picky bastard; the lollipop fiasco served as a great example. You were glad he thoroughly enjoyed the chocolate truffles.

Before you walked away, Bakugou pulled you close to him and crushed his lips on yours. He caught you off guard, but the surprise was certainly welcomed. You soon melted into the kiss after tasting the rich dark chocolate and spices on his lips. Bakugou’s arms snaked around your waist as your hands gripped his broad shoulders.

“You know,” Bakugou’s hot breath tickled your right ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I think I got a new favorite candy.”

“Is that so?” You hummed, a coy smile plastered on your face.

“Let’s hope it satisfies your sweet tooth then, Ground Zero.”

“Oh, it will.”

After all, you were the one and only Candy Master.

As always, thanks for reading!

10.18.20 UPDATE: Story’s sequel, Gold Coins and a Gold Heart now uploaded.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha imagines

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