#sorry if the crops are weird I have no idea how to format these things lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mushroom-cartel--writing · 3 years

Text

to be [a]sundered

Summary: Kugisaki Nobara is blessed. She will never know.

Relationship(s): Kugisaki Nobara & Reader, Kugisaki Nobara/Reader

Note(s):

Here’s the link to read this on AO3! (You know the drill, extra tags, different notes, the format I intended, etc. Oh. And the comment section.)

There’s manga spoilers in this fic alongside headcanon.

So far, out of my menial amount of JJK fics, this one has probably been the most enjoyable to write. With Nobara’s background I can play around because it’s just there.

|||

“I’m going to Tokyo,” she says. Come with me.

“No.” Can’t, sorry.

Mahito touches her soul.

Kugisaki Nobara is blessed.

She will never know.

The first time she introduces you to her friends, Saori nearly gouges your eye out with a sugar spoon and Fumi spills the contents of her cup across the table.

“I have cake,” you say, offering a cutesy box to Saori who’s still got the sugar spoon trained on you. “It’s baumkuchen. An old acquaintance gave it to me for free but I figured it’d be too much for just one person.”

Nobara, giggling, just offers you a seat and asks for more tea.

On the outskirts of the village there is a shrine.

They say it houses a god that blessed their lands long ago and watches over them to this very day; they hold a celebration in its honour every year, a small share of the harvest season’s best crop is offered up to appease the god.

Her grandparents say it houses a malevolent wonder-terror who feasts on the soul of its worshippers once the sun goes down; her grandparents say the aforementioned god and malevolent wonder-terror are one and the same, born from a wish made by humans.

You laugh when she tells you the crap people have come up about your home. (You appreciate the free food, though.)

You are not a god or something malevolent. You’re you.

Not quite divine but too powerful to sniff at.

Humans cannot see or sense you. Not even those who can bottle their negative energy, the ones you occasionally see passing through the village. Usually, you have to will yourself into existence. But she can regardless.

Spirits, the weak and strong, good nor bad, fear you. Your presence sets their survival instincts off, running immediately when you try to approach them. She has to give chase and incapacitate them for you when the hunger becomes agony.

You taught her well, it seems.

Too well.

Mahito touches her soul and it burns, burns, burns.

Kugisaki Nobara was barely old enough to be out on her own, but her grandparents trusted her to stay safe. The village was small, everyone knew each other, word spread fast, so if something happened to her on her small excursion… Well, no one would come looking for her, would they?

It was a lie when she said she was just going out to play with friends at the park.

Nobara didn’t have friends.

All the other kids were boring. She didn’t like their company. Whenever there was a big gathering, she’d try her best to avoid them and hide from the adults in bushes.

Despite knowing this, her grandmother let her go.

She hated being cooped inside with nothing to do and today was perfect! The humid air made her clothes stick to her skin but at least the wide-brimmed straw sunhat she snatched from her grandfather’s shed protected her from the sun’s wrath. It meant her peers would be over at the river halfway across the village; people wouldn’t go back to working on their fields until it cooled down a bit later in the day; they wouldn’t see her; and she’d be on her lonesome.

She wanted to laugh to herself. Everything was coming together.

Finally, she could check out that place she’s been meaning to visit ever since she first heard of it: the derelict shrine.

Her grandmother warned her to stay away from it, lest she give her name away by accident to the being living there and have her life stolen, but Nobara, inwardly, thought it was a load of cow dung. She’d die? Hah?! It was all superstition! (She would never admit it did spook her a bit.) Besides, things like vampires and witches and ghosts didn't exist in the first place. She’d be fine.

Humming with a skip in her step, Nobara made it to the shrine in due time.

“Hello?”

“Why hello there!”

She took everything back.

You had to be a ghost with the way you snuck up on her soundlessly. You kept insisting you weren’t. You glided along the floor.

You had to be a ghost. And now you were serving her snacks and tea. Inside the shrine. Inside what was, supposedly, your home.

“Why don’t I believe you?” she voiced aloud.

You stared at her, face deadpan, and poured hot water over your hand. She watched your skin scald. “Does this answer your question?”

Kugisaki Nobara at five years old was a bit of a skeptic, contrary to her personal beliefs.

“No. Not really.”

11:25 PM →

You emerge from the gaping hole where her left eye was blown out alongside a good chunk of her head, something writhing and fierce and oh-so familiar.

Ah. Right. This feeling; this foreign dread dawning upon him, piercing Mahito innermost; your dull but irritated eyes trained on the cursed spirit akin to a lizard eyeing up a cockroach. You’re like him, possessing a soul that absolutely cannot and should not be touched.

Shit—that means she too—

Hahahahaha.

You don’t even need to spare him another glance. You know what he’s thinking. You know what he’s done.

You won’t be as lenient with him as Sukuna was.

But here’s the thing. Although a student may surpass their teacher one day, the teacher might not relay all that they know to the next generation to ensure the safety of their student and those around them. However, Mahito is nothing to you. Itadori Yuuji, on the other hand, is important, so you grab him and throw the boy behind you.

“Reverberate,” you intone, bearing the exact same wounds as her.

His senses are heightened a thousandfold, but not nearly are they even close to yours.

You shove a nail of hers into yourself, saying, “Plunge.”

It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurts, hurtshurtshurtshurtshurTshURtsHURTS.

“Quietus.”

“We’re soulmates, you and me.”

She bursts out laughing. “Like from those cheesy dramas?” Nobara asks. Because. She needs to know. Whenever she’s around you, everything feels… right. It’s hard to articulate. Her heart doesn’t rush when you graze her skin but the particular spot where contact was made always tingles with a reassuring warmth; you’re real, not a fabrication of her imagination. She doesn’t fantasise about you like the way her peers do with the object of their affections. Your very presence makes her comfortable. “Are you having second thoughts?” she jeers, poking you hard in the ribs. (She’s still bitter about your decision.)

The intended jab has no effect.

“No,” is your reply. “What I mean is that your soul and mine are the same. If something happens to you, I’ll know.”

“What? You think I’m gonna be some part of a demonic summoning ritual where I’ll be a human sacrifice?”

“Time and distance makes no difference.”

“So if I just say the word…?”

“That… that’s not what I…” You sigh and scrub the gunk from your eyes.

How are you supposed to explain the whole situation to her?

Oh, yeah, about a couple aeons ago there was a being who tore themself in two—one part immortal, the other mortal—in order to understand their reason for existing. Their immortal self would be stagnant and observe their mortal self who would continuously live, die and reincarnate, until the latter, under their own volition, sought the former out and then a conclusion would be made between the two on whether or not they would remain as separate entities or rejoin together as one again.

Your original self (you and her; her and you) wasn’t great at planning ahead, that is plain to see. They didn’t think about the consequences, they just wanted an out. And fast.

Well look at you now. Distorted beyond reason. You’re an exercise in self-destruction. You stopped considering it being a miracle that you could wake up every morning by yourself and do what you wanted: the novelty was short-lived. You want to die but you’re at the point where it’s easier to convince yourself you do not than to focus on how you will off yourself somewhere that no one (and nothing) can find your undecayed corpse because the company you keep will become worried if you let the happy facade slip.

“Never mind,” you mutter.

She was ten when she first saw the skull.

It tumbled from your billowing sleeve as you rummaged around your pockets, rolling to a stop at her feet.

She lifted it up. “Whose is this?”

It was a weird skull, not like those she’d seen in her textbooks. She thought of asking Fumi about the skull later, when school started back up, but the idea was literally snatched from her mind when you saw exactly what she was holding.

In your hands, the skull seemed smaller. Inconsequential. Another another weird quirk of yours: carrying around random things. Maybe it was a model? You told her to forget about it and stowed the skull away—back into your sleeve—and dragged her along the beaten path you insisted on walking.

The next time, she was thirteen and helping you clear up your home. Fumi was there too.

They’d been going through a closet stuffed full of old junk and out the skull tumbled, right into Fumi’s lap. Rightfully so, her friend screamed. It took you several minutes to calm the poor girl down, her view of you now askew. Nobara was on your side when Fumi tried convincing you whomever the skull belonged to deserved a proper burial out in the forest and you refused.

No matter how hard she tried, you would not budge.

And that was that.

(From then on, whenever you made yourself visible to Fumi, she regarded you warily before seeing the way you looked at Nobara like she hung the stars and the moon.)

The last time the skull made an appearance in her life, Nobara had just turned fifteen.

A strange pair of men were at her door at the crack of dawn, rousing her grandparents, which prompted them to drag Nobara out of bed at such a god-awful time of the day. They all sat at a table soberly, discussing her future while Nobara found her attention gravitating to you.

You were playing with a stray cat in the garden, its stomach presented to you eagerly so soon after it deemed you safe, and making the most disgusting cooing noises she had ever heard to it with a dopey grin.

It was only at the call of her name that her head snapped back forward.

Yaga Masamichi was a strange one, tinkering so openly with a corpse in front of her deeply superstitious grandparents, but, strangely enough, it was his companion, a shock of white hair and bandage, that caught her eye. The young man was looking your way.

Not at the cat pawing up at thin air. Oh no. The blindfolded stranger’s gaze was dead set on you; she saw his brow raise minutely as Yaga and her grandparents continued talking, her tools of trade that was cobbled together from old sheds and the local hardware store bared flat on the table; she watched him watch you rub the cat’s belly before you lifted it high into the air like a parent would to their child. It was obvious what the situation playing out was: you had caught on to the stranger’s sighting of you long before she did. To emphasise the fact, you even babbled to the cat, “Higher, higher! Oopsie-daisy!!” before letting it back down and nuzzling it against your face, affectionate and close.

Yaga only noticed the change in atmosphere when the cat’s meows suddenly went quiet. But the other one (white hair, bandages, feels wrong, rotting flesh and fresh) grinned, slapping an enrollment form on the table.

“You. Leave that thing behind when you come to our school,” said Gojou Satoru, his introduction earlier all pomp and a wellspring of positive energy memes a stark comparison to now as he continued watching you, all but ignoring her grandmother shouting up at him to stop spouting nonsense.

(“What drivel! My granddaughter surely won’t—”)

She went back to spacing out in your direction.

Without hesitation, you dropped the cat into your gaping maw and swallowed it whole in one gulp. The first cursed spirit you managed to catch by yourself. Your ability at masking your aura was improving. That was good.

The skull peeked out of your hoodie’s pocket, the many orbits winking at her.

Screw the rules, you were coming with her whether the bureaucracy liked it or not.

At this rate, she’s going to die for sure.

You know what to do.

You’re one and the same. If Mahito touched one half of your original self and corrupted it, reason dictates that giving her body (the container) yours will fix her. But there’s a problem.

The implosion practically ruined her chances of survival, reducing it to null.

Not even a high grade sorcerer could hope to reverse the damage. Bone is a special material. Bone takes time to be cultivated or to grow. For a jujutsu user, especially, a substitute of different material won’t cut it. Bone, like the soul, contains an essence of sorts, it’s one of the few natural conductors of negative energy humans can have.

Your point: bone is not easily replaced.

Kneeling over Nobara, you grab from the air the object you were entrusted with over a millennium ago for safekeeping.

“Oi, oi, oi, you. You. Freak-god-thing.” You regard Itadori Yuuji with disdain. Or rather, the lone eye and accompanying mouth that’s on his cheek. “Is that what I think it is.”

“What? Are you objecting? Or worse—obstructing?”

“I don’t know about you or the brat, but you’re gonna fuck up the girl if you do that.”

“And since when did the King of Curses grow a heart?”

“I fucking didn’t, you prick.” The eye manages to scowl without a brow. “I’m just saying… You are sending her to condemnation.”

“Says the finger shagger,” you retort. The mouth disappears; Itadori Yuuji has an indescribable expression on his face but you know he won’t try and stop your hare-brained idea, he wants what you want.

You know what you’re doing.

You’ve had to do this a few times before.

It will work.

“Hello?”

A child? Who in their right mind would—

You freeze in your tracks. It’s them, your mind exclaims. It’s them. Them. Them. Them.

… Her.

You walk up behind her, beaming.

“Why hello there!” you chime, so, so happy.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #kugisaki nobara x reader #nobara x reader #gn!reader #gender-neutral reader #reader insert #one-shot #originally posted on ao3 #jujutsu kaisen

27 notes · View notes

seven-oomen · 3 years

Note

Hey, it's Elle again! I hope you don't mind me immediately replying and basically spamming your ask box because of it, I'm currently trying to distract myself from boring uni stuff. (And don't worry, I'm alright, my brain just immediately went into overdrive and kept replaying 'oh god I screwed up, how do I fix this, I need to fix it' which is why I felt the need to clarify so quickly.)

I also love Petopher a lot! And that might just be the greatest fic premise I've ever heard, so if you do end up writing it, I'd love to read it.

Exactly! It would've been so amazing. I basically live off of fix it fics at this point, to be honest.

(I figured I'd just reply to the ask from a couple days back about the metas as well, because that was actually also me)

I'm glad the formatting wasn't too horrible to read, I was only just figuring out how the whole ask thing worked.

I'm really sorry to hear you're not feeling well at the moment, and I hope you'll feel a bit better soon. Please don't worry about answering my asks and take all the time that you need!

And yeah, you have already figured me out, because I am a sucker for soft stories, I could literally read them all day, so that one-shot was just perfect.

Thank you so much for the kind offer! I might take you up on it one day, but never feel bad for not replying when you aren't in the head space to deal with it, alright?

Hey Elle, that’s okay I don’t mind at all. I actually smiled this afternoon when you replied quickly. And I get that feeling, it’s taking me a lot of reprogramming to suppress that anxiety, and even then, I have a lot of those moments too. Nothing’s broken, we’re okay, you’re golden <3.

So my Petopher idea is a combination of these two aus:

i don’t think babies are supposed to do that au where our muses are completely clueless about the supernatural world and they adopt/find a baby and as the baby grows it does a bunch of weird things depending on what kind of creature it is omg. (Werewolf baby, a born one that activated right after being born.)

does the paper boy deliver babies now or what au where our muses get home after a lovely evening or wake up to a baby on their front door with a note saying “i can no longer care for my baby, but i’m sure you two will do a great job.” uh oh what will they do.

So Chris has his adopted pack consisting of Isaac, Allyn, Alysia, Ben, Carina, Donovan, Marilène, Yasiri, and Loïc. Just a bunch of kids who are between the ages of 12 (Loïc) and 21 (Yasiri), all the others are around 15-16 or 18-19, and all of them have been bitten at some point in their lives. They’re living in peace, just chilling on a giant farm in France that Chris bought at some point. He's got more than enough money to sustain all of them and the farm helps out with providing as well as they have a range of crops and livestock.

Chris has also started a shelter of some sort, one that is known among the supernatural community. Kids of all ages, who have nowhere else to go, still come to him and the pack. They rehabilitate them and get them on their feet and the kids either stay or find a new pack to live with.

The newfound fame is also what leads Peter Hale to them. Peter has left Beacon Hills after the whole Deadpool thing, he never worked with Kate, and now that Malia is safe for the time being he feels the need to leave, grab his remaining millions of money, and settle down somewhere in France.

He’s looking at castles and whatnot when he picks up on the news of an Argent starting a rehabilitation program for young werewolves. He comes across the farm and shenanigans ensue.

The pack doesn’t trust Peter, though they are very interested in Peter’s apparent past with their dad Chris. (They were ex-lovers, even Isaac didn’t know that.) But as time progresses Peter becomes a very valuable member of the pack and wins them over. Things with Chris also start heating back up again and neither of the two really know what to do with it. There are still feelings, but so much has happened between them...

And then, someone leaves a werewolf baby on their doorstep. Chris is panicking, Peter’s cradling the baby and being surprisingly nurturing and soft (he’s raised two nieces and a nephew, thank you..), and the pack is so disgruntled that the first week is absolute chaos. And then the baby starts shifting too...

Even Peter knows that’s not normal. This is a kid from an old bloodline. The card the kid came with has no clues whatsoever either.

But even with all of that, there’s something there between Chris and Peter. And while taking care of a newborn and a bunch of teenagers, sparks start flying once more.

I’m very curious to hear what you think. Would that be a story you would read? How about others? Lemme know! <3

#fic ideas #petopher #ben says stuff #chris argent #peter hale #chris adopts isaac #Anonymous #creativity he wrote #L

18 notes · View notes

cyberth0t · 4 years

Photo

And then Ro finally responds. “Thanks.”

Dylan looks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“…Yer not gonna chew me out?”

Ro shrugs. “A year ago? Sure. But…lately I’ve been getting a lot of apologies, and I think I need to—I dunno. Start accepting them.”

Dylan smiles. “You seem like you’re doing well. You seem really—I donno. Happy.”

“I am. But…I’m homesick as fuck. River’s friends are fun to drink with, but when it comes down to it, they’re mostly hetero Euro trash. No offense to you.”

“Full offense! I’m neither Euro trash nor hetero, thanks. Chaotic good bisexual Irishman is my alignment now.”

They both laugh, but it dissolves, and an awkward silence yawns between them. Dylan shifts, changes the subject.

“Zoe told me you were seeing someone, but she didn’t say much. Not that I’m surprised; she’s protective of you.”

A smirk warms Ro’s face. “Sorry you had to meet him the hard way.”

“Ah, that was just the universe paying me back again for fucking you over.”

“Maybe.”

“Your bloke’s not Euro trash. That crop top may as well have been crown with how uppity he was with me. And not in a bratty twink way, mind ya. I had the sense he’s had training.”

Ro shakes his head, grinning. “That he has. River’s got a title.”

“Does he now?”

“Yep. Lord Carlisle. His grandaddy’s the duke of Eswold. His family’s name is on half the historical plaques in the city. There’s a Carlisle Wing at the Vermoulen, for chrissake. And the University of Windenburg has a Carlisle Center for Biology and Conservation.”

“Holy shit balls. No wonder he was able to make me feel worthless with nary a word.”

“Uh, he’s not a dick like that normally, he just didn’t want to get hit on. He urged me to come talk to you, actually,” Ro says. He raises his eyebrow. “In light of your relationship with my best friend.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I tried to tell her she needed to come clean sooner than this, but she was agonizing over hurting your feelings,” Dylan responds. “She didn’t think you’d believe her.”

Ro leans forward, his expression shifting into stone.

“Honestly, I’m still not convinced. I got something to say to you, Maloney, and I want you to listen, hard. If you feel yourself slipping up, you feel the urge to sneak around on her, lie to her—do her a favor and break things off before you do it. If I find out you fucked her over like you did to me—”

“I hear you. I’m not in the business of making the same mistakes twice. I promise you that. No need to threaten bodily harm.”

“I wasn’t going to. I was just going to say there won’t be any second chances for redemption. I’ll wash my hands of you. Forever, this time.”

They sit quietly for a moment, considering each other.

“So. Why are you in town?” Ro asks.

Dylan’s face lights up. “Ah, actually, it’s—it’s real exciting. I’ve been offered to star in a web series, through Euro KitchenLab. The studio is based here. We’re in pre pro right now, and the pilot gets filmed next week.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, I’m fucked up over it, not afraid to tell you. They’re sinking a boatload of cash into this project. It’ll be filmed test kitchen style, while I interview people. Notables, celebrities, musicians, artists. The idea is to have funny conversations that normally wouldn’t happen in a traditional format. It’s me and this other guy, you know Andy McKnight? From Street Eats?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah!”

“So, he’ll act as my sous, and we’ll fuck with people while we try to teach them to cook, learn how to make something together.”

“You’re both funny. People will like it.”

“And the money is—phew. Really good.” Dylan laughs, shaking his head. “Sometimes I can’t—it’s still weird, you know? That people think I’m good enough that I can do this.”

“You are. It’ll be…it’ll be great.”

“Thanks, man. I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be.”

“Thanks.” Dylan’s grins. “All right, so tell me, how the hell did you bag a future duke? Was he on Grindr? How in the blue fuck—“

“We met at a bar, God. And I had no idea until his sister told me to Google him.”

“Bet that was a nasty surprise.”

“Yeah. That was before I’d even kissed him.”

“Truly? You knew about—you knew what you were getting into?”

“Yeah, I—I know it sounds bonkers, okay? Zoe gave me an earful about it, when I first told her.”

“Sounds like her. God, I love that woman.”

Ro tilts his head, his eyebrows flying up. “Uh? Does she know that?” he asks, laughing.

“N-no. Not yet. I’m—look, I know I just flirted with your boyfriend so I’m sure this sounds like absolute bull, but I’m thinking I’m ready to go exclusive with her.”

Ro scoffs. “You’re right, it does sound like bullshit.”

“Listen, can you blame me? He’s gorgeous and he was half naked, for crying out loud, I had to shoot my shot—but really, I haven’t been seeing anyone but her for a few months now. I’ve not told her that, yet.”

“Would you still want the option?”

“I don’t know. Possibly. But right now? I’m not interested. I think about her all the time. I only want to be near her. I don’t think it’s in me to be full-time monogamous for the rest of my life, and she—well, she says that doesn’t bother her, but if it did? Shit, I’d try it, if it meant she’d stay. I donno.”

“You said the studio is here in Windenburg.”

“Ah. Yeah.”

“Does that mean you’re moving to Riddesland?”

“For the time being, yeah.”

Ro laughs. “Wow.”

“So if you’re tired of hanging out with Euro trash—hit me up!” Dylan immediately cringes. “Or don’t. Y’know. If you’d like to continue keeping me at arm’s length. I wouldn’t blame you.”

“We’ll see, Maloney. You did a good job today. Jury’s out, but...you made a good case for yourself.”

“Thanks, mate. Means a lot.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get cocky. I’m soft, but River will fuck you up.”

“Shit, I believe it.”

#;lsakjdfkasjfla #inheritance #inheritance:4 #ts4 #the sims 4 #sims story #ts4 story #simblr #sims comic #sims storytelling #lgbt sims #oops im forcing you to read again what a bastard i am

76 notes · View notes

onlyfansdotcomslashshawnmendes · 5 years

Text

ριɳƙ ƙιɳƙ

Shawn Smut // Sub!Shawn // SUB!SHAWN // S U B ! S H A W N // Some light cute bondage, gentle femdom, overstim, needy desperate Shawn, begging, spanking, Shawn in cute panties, the good shit // Word count: 4,763 // NSFW // lovely OC I borrowed from @celinetheseeliequeen // Please excuse any typos, and sry but tumblr mobile wrecks my paragraph formatting (off the record not a hailee stan or whatever but that gif screams subby bby shawn)

“Shawn! What the fuck!” Céline snapped at her boyfriend. As it currently stood, Shawn was sitting on the bed, laptop lid slammed down moments ago, staring at his girlfriend with a blank expression. “What?!” he yelled back, or well as close as he came to yelling, “Why are you yelling at me Céline?!” He barely got it out of his mouth before she answered, “I’m yelling at you because I just asked you what you were doing and you told me answering emails and slammed the laptop shut?!” she snapped. Shawn’s jaw dropped, “I was, I was answering emails and you freaked me out and I instinctively closed it!” he was still almost yelling. “Then why the fuck was your hand down your pants Shawn?! Is that how you answer emails?!” she snapped. “I’m allowed to touch my dick Céline! It’s my fucking dick!” When he said that, she rolled her eyes, literally to the point she tilted her head some, almost laughing as Shawn added a ‘Well! I am!’ he snapped. But Céline did laugh then, half at how stupid it was, “Of course you are Shawn, what the fuck? I never said you weren’t! You’re allowed to do whatever you want. You’re allowed to jack off whenever you want! You’re allowed to watch por-” but Shawn cut her off then, “I wasn’t watching porn!” For a moment they were silent, “I don’t care if you were watching porn Shawn, I’m not a psychopath, you’re allowed to have urges. I mean, I do have questions as to why the MOMENT I left the house to go get groceries you fired up the laptop and got to jacking in the time it took me to realize I’d left my purse…but,” she said waving a hand, “I’d rather know why you’re lying to me first,” she said in a much calmer way. “I didn’t know you were coming back…” Shawn said softly. When he said that, Céline laughed softly, just in a sort of genuine way, “Clearly you didn’t,” she said putting her keys down on the table before walking over to the edge of the bed. “Will you show me what it was?” she asked gesturing toward the laptop. But Shawn shook his head, “No,” he said quietly, “It’s embarrassing,” Céline couldn’t help but smile at him, crawling onto the bed beside him and sitting on the bed, reaching up and stroking her fingers through his curls. “Oh come on baby, I promise you don’t have any kinks any weirder than mine, and how cool would it be if it was something we could do together?” she asked smiling, “But hey, if its something really weird and awful that I hate, I’m not opposed to helping you get that big cock off while you watch the video,” she said sincerely, “Wouldn’t that be hotter than your hand? Your girlfriend’s hands on you?” she cooed. Again, silence was all that filled the room for the next few minutes, before Shawn finally reached down and began opening up the laptop gently, just tapping his fingers over the space key to bring up the screen and unlocking it. Once it was unlocked, Céline could see that Shawn had in fact been watching porn. That part didn’t bother her, and honestly it didn’t really shock her. What did shock her however was the contents of the porn. He video was paused, but in the center of the screen was a man, overly muscular and beautiful looking of course but rather distressed looking and…tied up? Slowly her perfectly manicured pink fingers reached over and tapped the play button on the screen. Céline leaned in curiously, closer to watch the video as Shawn watched her with faint horror. It was one of those preview videos, that showed you the best bits of the longer videos that you could purchase. But even so she watched as the man was tied up, as the pretty domme in flowing curls and stilettos pushed him around, and smacked him around a little. It was nothing too rough, a cut scene of some spanking with a crop that didn’t even really leave the skin pink. A gratuitous handjob with the full eye contact and restraints, the intense dirty talk and sort of bullying that took place. Briefly, Céline found herself wondering if that brief three minute and forty-two second video was enough for Shawn to get his rocks off. But as the video ended, Céline’s attention snapped back to Shawn, “Is that something you’re into baby?” she asked in a quiet voice. After a moment, Shawn nodded, “I mean, I’ve never …like done it, but I’d like to do it…the idea really turns me on,” he said in a quiet voice, “Is it weird, I’m sorry,” he said giving her a rather soft pout. “Oh Shawn,” she cooed, stoking her knuckles gently down his face and rubbing his jaw, “Don’t apologize baby boy, it’s not weird, it’s hot,” her tone was so soothing as she spoke. “It’s hot?” Shawn asked in a soft voice, looking at her with a little head tilt. Céline nodded at him though, “Yes it is, now, put your laptop away and get undressed for me. And while you do, I want you to think of a safeword to use if things go too far,” as soon as she finished speaking though she patted his cheek and disappeared into her closet. For a moment Shawn was left staring blankly at the door she’d gone in, but he did get up, putting the laptop away and closed. He then slipped off his clothes, for whatever reason he felt a bit shy this time. It wasn’t like Céline hadn’t seen him naked…many times before, but he felt a new sense of vulnerability this time. Just as he pealed off the last of his clothes, setting them in a chair beside the bed, he jumped as he heard her speak. “Are you shy baby boy?” Céline cooed in an almost pouty voice, “You know you don’t need to be shy with me right? I’m going to take care of you,” It was a soft soothing purr, enough that it almost did relax Shawn. As he turned around though and his eyes fell on her, he gasped softly. There she stood in a baby pink corset lingerie set, the kind with ruffles and satin and bows all over. Her pantyhose a soft white with pink bows...or maybe that was where her garters attached, he couldn’t tell. She was in pink heals that made her...damn near as tall as he was, and briefly Shawn found himself wondering how she could stand in those. But as he looked down at her feet, he saw what was in her hands. Fistfuls of fabric, a metallic sparkle and some pink ones as well, and he saw…a whip? “What’s all that?” he asked after a moment just gesturing at her hands. Céline beamed, and tossed the contents of her hands onto the bed before picking up a pair of panties first, that looked slightly to big for her. They were of course pink, but a stretchy lace material. “Put these on they’ll make you look cute,” she said shoving them at Shawn’s chest. “You want me to put them on?” he asked in a sort of shocked voice, but Céline narrowed her eyes at him, “Are you going to have to start disobeying me already? Do I have to spank you mister?” she scolded. Immediately Shawn shook his head, “N-no,” he said taking the panties and sort of awkwardly pulling them on, squirming into them a bit. They were ever so slightly tight on him, but honestly because of the stretchy material it wasn’t that bad. “Aw cute,” Céline cooed giving a soft little hand clap. “Now these,” she said shoving a pair of stocking at him, these looking way too large for her. “Why…do you have these?” Shawn asked, but he didn’t argue, pulling on the stockings, with cat prints on his feet and kitty faces at the top of his thighs. “Wish sent me the wrong size.” Céline said with a shrug. Once both of those were on, Shawn shifted slightly, his cheeks pink as he looked around awkward. “One more thing,” Céline cooed, picking up a thin pink ruffled collar with a bell in the center, opening it and wrapping it around Shawn’s neck before fastening it. “Oh look how cute you are,” she cooed, running her fingers over his cheek and down over his chest, rubbing at the soft skin and toned muscle. “So cute in all your pink decorations.” By this point, Shawn’s cheeks matched his ‘decorations’, but Céline seemed rather pleased with herself. After giving him one final look over she nodded and pointed to the bed, “Lay on your back” she said pointing to the middle. “Can I ask, why you have...half of those things, is that a whip?” Shawn asked gesturing toward the pile of things on the bed. “No you can’t, nobody likes nosy little boys Shawn, now get on the bed,” she said in a stern voice, still pointing, “Now!” it wasn’t even a snap. Her voice was bratty, the same kind of tone it had when she whined ‘daddy’ at him while begging for ice cream. “Okay okay, sorry,” Shawn said in a soft voice, crawling onto the bed and laying on his back. Once he did, Céline giggled softly and gave a soft ‘good boy’ as she crawled onto the bed herself. “What’s your safeword baby boy?” she cooed, picking up long thick strips of ribbon, pink, that she’d tossed onto the bed earlier. Shawn watched her as she lifted his arms, beginning to tie them together, wrapping the ribbon around his wrists and tying it there. “I uh, stop?” he asked. There was a brief moment where she looked down at him with a head tilt and an expression that called him a dumbass. Seconds later though she began tying another piece of ribbon around his arms, lower now in the middle of his forearms. “No Shawn, stop doesn’t work. If you say stop, we don’t stop so I need you to give me a word, that if you use it, I know means stop,” she said before stroking his cheek. “Come on, you’re a good boy,” Shawn felt his cheeks heat up when she spoke to him that way, “Rose,” he said after a moment. Céline shrugged some at that, “Huh, well that’s valid,” she said picking up another ribbon for just below his elbows, tying that one around his arms as well. Once she was done with that, she reached down at the edge of the bed and picked up what Shawn had seen earlier, sparkling silver and pink. It was a plug, with a pink crystal. She giggled some then and lifted it to Shawn’s lips, “Suck that baby, get it all nice and wet so it slides in easily,” Despite the fact that Shawn only blushed much deeper now he did open his mouth and slowly suck the plug, only pulling back once Céline pulled it back from his mouth. “Pull your legs up baby boy, as high as you can, bend your knees, spread your legs some,” she cooed. Shawn did as he was told, not really offering to speak as he pulled his legs up and apart some. “Is it going to hurt?” he asked after a moment, as he felt Céline tugging those pink lacey panties aside. “No baby boy, it’ll feel new, but it won’t hurt,” she cooed, her fingers gently spreading his skin as she pushed that plug into him slowly. At first, Shawn’s lips fell open in a silent sort of gasp, his eyes shutting tight, but as that plug popped into him, he gave a soft hiss. “That hurts,” he panted. “Do you want me to take it out?” Céline asked, running her hands up and down his thighs. “No…no ma’am,” Shawn said after a moment, slowly opening his eyes. “Does it make you happy? To do this to me?” he asked quietly. “Of course it does baby, or I wouldn’t do it,” she said quietly, gently dragging her nails up his thighs and over his chest and stomach, “I want you to call me mommy, can you do that for me baby boy?” For a moment, Shawn just watched her, “Mommy?” he asked as she moved over him, her hands pinning his shoulders down. “Yes, mommy, you don’t seem to have a problem when you’re making me scream ‘daddy’,” Céline said quirking a brow at him. “I don’t have a problem with it, mommy,” Shawn said quickly after that, just watching as Céline smiled and then patted his cheek again, “Good boy,” she cooed. And moments later, sitting up on her knees, she reached down and grabbed something else from the end of the bed. It was her pink wand, the cordless one. Despite the fact that Shawn could lean up and see it, he did sort of arch a curious brow, “What are you going to do with that mommy?” he asked her. “You’ll see baby boy,” she said turning on the wand as she moved her position. Slowly she straddled Shawn’s thighs, and just sat back on her heels, running the wand over the bulge in those panties. She could see his cock through the material anyway of course, and she gently ran the toy along his length. Almost instantly Shawn’s hips jerked slightly as he hissed at the feeling, “Oh my god, oh god, oh fuck that’s so much, ohhhh, shit, holy fuck,” his voice was a whine, a whimpering sort of panted version of each word. She couldn’t help but giggle as she watched her boyfriend whine and whimper and unfold beneath her. “Shawn, Shawn look up at me baby boy, I want to know you’re paying attention,” Céline cooed, reaching up and gently cupping Shawn’s cheek, turning him to face her, “Don’t you dare cum without permission, do you understand?” she cooed. Shawn nodded eagerly, “Yes mommy, god..that feels so good..” he whispered, his voice a whine still as he lifted his hips toward the vibration. It didn’t take long at all before Shawn was completely hard, and Céline dipped her hand into those panties to pull his cock straight, the panties keeping it pinned down against his stomach. Still though she dragged the wand up and down the exposed underside of his length through that lace. “You’re such a big boy…” she purred, her fingers and palm running over his chest. Her manicured fingertips teased at his nipples before she just touched down his body. “Did you know you could get so big down here?” she asked with almost a giggle, “This must feel really good on that big, thick, hard cock,” The way she was talking to him made Shawn whimper, and his eyes fluttered shut as he tossed his head to the side. Despite the fact that he was so flustered he nodded eagerly, “Yes,” he gasped, “It feels so good, you’re making me feel so good, I’m so lucky to have such a pretty mommy taking care of me…” he groaned before moaning out again, his whole body sort of arching in a wave of pleasure as Céline rubbed the wand against that slowly forming wet spot in the lace. “You’re not going to cum are you?” she asked in a firm tone, “I see that precum dripping out of that pretty pink cock,” As she said that, Shawn shook his head, “No, no I’m trying really hard not to, it just feels so good..” he said with a soft breathy kind of pant. “Alright baby boy,” she said quietly, still dragging the wand up and down the length of his cock, smiling as she watched him throb. Her hand slipped up his body again though, her hand gently wrapping around his throat, and squeezing just a little bit. As she did, Shawn gasped, his eyes fluttering as his body arched again. “Oh, oh god, can I cum? Please, please can I cum pl-” “No,” Céline said cutting him off flatly. But Shawn only whined, his body still jerking as her hand reached up, popping his cheek gently once, “Stop it, I said no,” she said in a more stern voice. Shawn was shaking his head now, “I’m gonna cum, I-” “No you’re not Shawn, hold it,” she hissed. “I can’t help it, please, please let me cum,” he whined, his breathing ragged now, his cheeks bright pink, his body twitching as his cock throbbed. “Please, please mommy can I cum please-” his voice was on the verge of a sob now, no matter how much Céline simply ignored him. It was only moments later before Shawn was reaching his orgasm, his cock throbbing SO noticeably as his cum puddled onto his stomach, soaking those panties and his skin, dripping down his hips onto the bed. That wasn’t the real indicator though, it was his almost screaming moans, his body jerking as he arched up so high, his eyes fluttering back and his lips falling open as he gasped. “Oh Shawn,” Céline said in a scolding tone, “I told you not to cum,” she said before giving him a tsk, and as she pulled that wand back, and turned it off, she leaned up on her knees. Shawn slowly opened his eyes to see her hovering above him before she slapped him hard, “Bad boy, apologize,” she scolded. Even after the slap, Shawn looked at her in a dreamy hazy kind of way, “I’m sorry mommy...” he whispered, his legs still squirming slightly. “Hmph! You’re about to be!” Céline said in a pouty tone as she got off of his thighs and pushed his hips, so that he was rolling over and lying on his stomach. Once he was on his stomach, Shawn turned his head to the side, resting his cheek on the bed as he looked over his shoulder to look back at Céline. Her hands were jerking those panties off of him then, and spreading his cheeks as her thumb pressed that plug. “You’re such a bad boy, such a dirty little slut cumming so fucking hard like you just did with this plug up your ass,” she said in the same scolding tone, her hand popping his ass hard once. “Say it, say you’re a dirty little slut who gets hard when your ass is stuffed for me,” she demanded as she reached back behind her, to the edge of the bed. This time she drew back a crop, the tongue of this one a pink heart. “Say it,” she said popping his ass once, leaving a bright pink heart in her wake, “Now,” she demanded popping the other cheek. Shawn gasped, his eyes wide, biting his bottom lip hard as he whimpered, before gasping again at that second pop, “Ouch!” he yelped, looking back at her, “Fucking called it, I knew you had a whip, why the fuck do you have a whip?” he asked in a sort of ‘wtf’ tone, but Céline gave him a little baby glare and popped him with the crop a few more times, “I said say it Shawn,” she hissed before just alternating now. One pop to each cheek, back and forth, a constant sort of motion, leaving bright pink hearts over his skin, over his ass and down the back of his thighs. Between yelps and gasps, Shawn whined softly before seeming to collect himself, “I..I’m a dirty slut, who gets hard when..when my ass is stuffed for you, mommy,” he panted, whimpering and whining as his face scrunched up with each sting of the crop. “Ouch mommy!” he yelped, whining as he looked up at her, “Mommy stop! I learned my lesson! Stop it, my ass hurts,” he whined. When he began begging Céline grinned so wide and giggled, giving him a few more pops before just running her hands up his thighs. She grabbed his ass, kneading and pulling his skin, popping him once. “Aren’t you such a cute little slut, your ass is all pink and you’ve got that cute little pink crystal in your asshole,” she cooed, clawing her nails down his ass then just to hear him hiss again. “Alright baby boy, we can stop,” she said, with Shawn sighing a soft ‘oh thank god’ before she spoke again, “IF, you’re willing to use that big cock to get mommy off…or rather, you’re willing to let mommy use that big cock to get off,” When she said that though, Shawn nodded eagerly, “Of course, of course mommy, I’d love to,” he said smiling softly, his cheeks still pink. Now Céline grinned again, grabbing his hips and once more pulling him to lie on his back. This time though, as he gasped softly just at being moved, she was already straddling his hips, one hand reaching underneath her to hold his cock in place as she used the other hand to pull her panties aside and slip down onto him. Shawn gasped at feeling just how wet she was, she was soaked. His cock had only just popped into her and already he felt her moisture dripping down the length of his cock. With a few bounces from her, immediately his balls were wet, that sticky sound already emanating between them. A shiver ran down his spine as he moaned out, his eyes fluttering, the pleasure and arousal was so much that for a moment he almost forgot how sensitive his cock was right now. Céline however didn’t seem to notice or care. One of her hands fell on Shawn’s stomach, and she just used it for balance as her other hand grabbed that wand. Immediately she flipped it on and held it against her own pussy as she kept bouncing against her boyfriend’s hips. Shawn’s eyes were locked on her in aw, his own lips parted in constant soft moans as he squirmed, kind of wishing he had control of his hands, that he could touch her. But Céline kept up her steady bounce on his cock, a permanent smile plastered on her face as she moaned and cursed under her breath, even laughing in pleasure as she did. “Oh, fuck yes baby, give mommy that big hard cock,” “Of course mommy, it’s all yours,” Shawn panted, his body arching some, his hips rolling up against her as much as he could, occasionally jerking from sensitivity. But for the most part he was mesmerized, something about watching her just use him to get herself off was intoxicating to him. He could already feel his cock throbbing inside of her, but he didn’t dare even let himself think about cumming, not that he thought she would stop even if he did. “Do you like that cock mommy? Does it make you happy? Do I make you happy?” he panted. At him asking that, Céline lifted her head back up to look at him, just kind of steadying herself, rolling her hips against his cock and still using her hand for balance. Her other hand did keep that wand pressed against her pussy, “Oh baby,” she whispered, her eyes SO loving, so close to the actual heart eye emoji. “I love your cock baby boy, and it makes me so happy. And you make me so happy Shawn, and I love you so much, you’re such a good boy for me,” she whispered, leaning down just to give him a slow sticky kind of kiss. That kiss had Shawn whimpering into it, the way she still rolled her hips against him. He could feel that toy vibrating against his stomach but he could also feel how wet it was. Even though her panties still half on soaked up a lot of the moisture, she really was soaked. As the kiss broke, Shawn found himself leaning up, trying to steal more soft kisses from her, before finally falling back on the bed. “You’re gonna make mommy cum, would you like that baby boy?” Céline panted, biting her lip hard as she gave a giggling moan. Both of her hands held that wand now as she sat on her knees and just bounced up and down on Shawn’s cock, it was sloppy and messy and only half worked, but it most certainly was working for her. “Of course mommy,” he panted, “I want you to cum so bad, please cum for me,” he moaned, “I would love to make you cum,” “God you’re such a sweet boy,” Céline said in a whimper. At that point, she leaned back, one hand letting go of the toy to hold onto his thigh as she kept bouncing, but leaning back. Her hand that held onto the wand slowly moved sort of grinding it against her pussy as she rolled her hips. But within minutes, she was reaching her orgasm, and she was squirting. Not only did she absolutely soak Shawn, but some actually made it to his face, which caused his eyes to flutter back, and body to arch. “Oh fuck, fuck I’m going to cum,” he groaned in a low husky voice. Céline however was too busy almost screaming, her body jerking and convulsing as she rode out that orgasm, her pussy clenching against Shawn’s cock over and over. As she felt him spilling into her, she only moaned louder, a desperate kind of whimper as she rocked her hips against his, so they could both ride it out. “Yes Shawn, fill up that tight pussy…” she panted, biting her bottom lip hard as she came down from it. Slowly her thumb flipped that wand off, and she sat up straight, grinding her hips against Shawn. He gasped and yelped and whined, on the verge of dry sobs, only murmuring soft ‘please’s under his breath, just at how sensitive he was. Céline was biting her lip hard, giggling and hummin softly as her hands ran up his stomach and chest, over his neck and face. “I got you so messy I’m so sorry,” she cooed as she ran her fingers through his curls. “It’s okay mommy, I’m glad you came…” he panted. “So sweet,” she whispered, kissing over his face, over his cheek and neck and down his chest a bit. All the while her hands were slowly undoing those ribbons that held his hands in place. Once he was free though, Shawn immediately wrapped his arms around her and kissed her so much harder. Céline smiled at the desperation in those kisses, wrapping her arms around Shawn as well. “I love you baby,” she cooed into his lips, grabbing the blanket from the beside and wrapping it around the both of them sO tightly. “Look at that,” she cooed, wrapping her legs around Shawn’s waist as she rolled them around in that blanket, “A baby burrito,” she cooed, booping Shawn’s nose once. Shawn laughed softly, “You…really want me to stay inside of you?” he whispered, blushing some. “Duh,” Céline said with a smile, running her hands through his curls again, “Don’t you feel closer like this?” she asked, and Shawn nodded with a smile before nuzzling his face against her shoulder, just hugging her closer. “Was that too much baby, or did you like it?” Céline asked after a moment. Once again, Shawn smiled, laughing softly, “It was amazing, really amazing, not too much at all, but I really do want to be close to you right now..I can’t believe we just did that.” He said laughing. “Oh we did baby boy,” she cooed, reaching down behind him in the blanket, gently spreading his cheeks and pulling that plug out of him, earning a soft gasp from her as Shawn as she did. With one quick toss, Céline threw it to the end of the bed and stroked her fingertips along Shawn’s neckline, “Now, more comfy baby boy?” she cooed. “Mhm,” he whispered, in a soft sleepy noise, almost purring as he held her and she rubbed at his neck and curls like that, “So comfy, I love you so much..” he said peppering soft kisses along her collar bone. “Mn, I know you do handsome boy, I love you too,” she said just kissing his temple as she held him. “Looks like were ordering in for dinner though, seeing as how you didn’t let me go get groceries,” she teased. “I can live with that,” Shawn whispered in the same sleepy way.

#shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendesxreader #shawn mendesxoc #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes imagine #sub shawn mendes #sub shawn #sub!shawn #sub!shawn mendes #sub!shawnmendes #mine

209 notes · View notes

paigesturning · 5 years

Text

The Grandiose Burden of Being my Caretaker - 1

When people write about waking up in unexpected places, they usually present it weirdly peacefully. Like, “I opened my eyes and looked around. I was in a field” blah blah blah blah blah. But that’s not really how it goes. So, for example, when I woke up with my skin sizzling, and realized I was in a desert, I kinda flipped out. I opened my eyes, groaned, because the sun was shining directly into them, said “What?” to myself, sat up, said “What?” again, and finally, I jumped to my feet and shouted “What the fuck?”

Then I took a moment to look around. I was in a desert all right, but it wasn’t a desert like you get out East, but more like the deserts on the southern continent, all multicolored rock formations, and dry, thorny bushes.

I said “What?” again.

I wasn’t wearing… exactly what I had fallen asleep in. I still had the black tank top on, but I guess at some point I had put on jeans. Or jeans had been put on me. Or my PJs turned into jeans? I still don’t know. Another notable item on me was a backpack. It was a green canvas with a dark-brown leather trim, and brass pieces holding the flap at the top shut. Curious about this mysterious new bag, I undid the clasps, and flipped it open.

Despite the fact that I was holding the bag off the ground, and it was shaped like a typical bag (albeit, more fashionable), a long tunnel, seemingly made out of the green canvas, seemed to move down into the darkness forever - something which is obviously impossible.

At this point, I laid back down on the ground, and considered my options. It was possible that I was dreaming. Sometimes this kind of thing happens, I suppose. I’ve never had a lucid dream, but I assume it would be something like this, where you feel awake, mostly, but you also know you’re dreaming, because nothing works the way it’s supposed to. I had a friend who told me about a lucid dream once. She said she summoned a bunch of muscular butches to, quote, “take care of her”.I also heard a story from another friend where they decided to fly in their dreams, and did that.

I was sick of laying down anyway, what better way to pass the time than to try and fly around? I raised my arms out in front of me. Then, I started to levitate.

Rather, I started to try to levitate. This, I thought, is taking far more effort than Dara made it out as. Maybe it was because I was thirsty?

I was thirsty. I sat up, and looked around again. Nothing had changed, really. I picked the bag back up, and started digging through the outside pockets that I had ignored before. Just like the main pocket, they each seemed far larger than I would have guessed. There was a donut, which seemed fresh, three books, and some apples. I pulled out one of the apples, and started to eat it to help quench my thirst. This being a dream seemed to be getting less and less likely, and (even if my dehydration wasn’t a sign of this being real) there was no sense in staying thirsty, so I began to walk.

On top of a little outcropping I got a better lay of the land. To my left (which I found out was south), the stones turned into a more deciduous mountain. Just to the right of that was a forest of… I want to say aspen trees. Even that was at a higher altitude than I was currently at. The rest continued to be swaths of red-stone mesa.

And I started walking. __

It was a few weeks later, when I found her. I was on my way through the woods, trying to see if I could find a source of clay at the time. I was sick of having a lean-to to live in, and was nearly done with a nice mud-brick structure. There was a grassy area, filled with wildflowers. The trees above created a roof over the area, casting the underbrush in a green, peaceful glow that felt healing in it’s own way. Amid all of the flowers and grasses, she was half lying, half sitting, propped up on her hands, yet on her side, like a starlet on a piano. Furthering the analogy, she wore an all-red outfit, A cloak, parting to reveal a crop-top, and cargo pants. Her yellow hair looked near green in the light of the trees, and it framed a round, soft face, upon which, aside from startlingly cherubic features, were two shiny gray rectangles, each covering a cheek.

Oh, I was staring at her. She was staring at me.

“Er, sorry, can I… can I give you a hand here, ma’am?”

She gave me… a look and sat up straighter. As she did, I heard a whirring from her direction.

“Only, uh, I haven’t met anyone else in a while. I thought I might be the only one out here?” I continued, trying to fill the silence.

“Oh, um,” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “I’m fine. Sorry.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, where are you from? Or, how did you get here?”

“I’m from Third York. But for the past couple of days I’ve been here.” “I’ve never heard of that place.”

“No? It’s a very large city.”

“Yeah, sorry. Do you have like, a shelter or something? Where have you been staying?”

She looked embarrassed, and gestured around at the little field she sat in, “I don’t really need to sleep, and if I stay out in the sun I can recharge. Especially if I lay down.” She tapped the panel on her face. I must have looked as confused as I felt, because she rolled her eyes a little and said, “You know… cause I’m a robot?”

This didn’t help very much. “Is that… anything like a nymph?”

It was her turn to look confused. “Where did you say you were from?”

I ran a hand through my hair. “Seqestra? Second City to the Sun? I lived at the college there.”

“I have no idea where that is. Is it… around here?”

“I… I dunno. I just sort of woke up here one day.”

She looked like she was lost in thought, “Yeah, me too…”

Frankly, dancing around what was going to seemed to be a little much, “Think it’s safe to say that we were both transported to some alternate dimension from our own, or something?”

“Oh, that’s definitely the case. The stars are different here.”

I knew I should have been paying closer attention in my astrology class. “Different how?”

“Well, to put it simply, it seems like they move through the sky at the same rate that the sun and moons do.”

“That’s… Weird.”

She nodded, “It seems, if you’ll excuse the expression, like the whole universe is revolving around us.

...

K. What I was doing seemed trivial now.

But god damn it if I wasn’t going to have a roof over my head by the end of the day. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Cerat,” she said, finally standing all the way up. “And you?”

“The folks at the University called me Partridge. Nice to meet you.” I stuck out a fist at the same time that she stuck out an open hand. Looking between me, and our hands, she switched to a closed fist, facing down, and gently bopped my knuckles.

“...Right. Well, Cerat, I’m actually looking for some clay. I have most of a house built, but I just need something to keep the roof stuck on. Want to come with? You can stay with me, until we find another place, or something. If you’d like.”

She furrowed her brow. “I’ll have to decide.”

I stood there waiting for a moment. After a few seconds too many of silence, I said, “Right, so, I’m going to get going. I’m,” I pointed, “that way. Let me know what you decide, I guess.”

I turned to walk away, when I heard her following behind me.

“You make up your mind then?”

She shrugged.

“Okay, I guess.”

Later that night when I was eating dinner, she spoke up again.

“I think I’ve made a decision.”

#Fiction #Mythology #The Grandiose Burden of Being my Caretaker #Isekai #my writing

36 notes · View notes

survivorparr · 5 years

Text

the sun and her moon, pt 2/8 (Don’t Lose Ur Head)

In Which Choreography is Rehearsed and Cathy Comes Back from Vacation

(aka Yes, those are Definitely the tEchNicaL names for that choreography, No, I do Not take constructive criticism)

•

“Alright, ladies! Brilliant show this afternoon, just a few things I want to clean up,” Grace announced.

“Brilliant show yourself - truly, Grace, you’ve been nothing short of incredible,” Aragon commended her.

“Yeah, mate, the crowd was going bonkers after I Don’t Need your Love, did you hear?” Anna added.

Grace turned red and smiled bashfully. “Thanks, you lot, that’s really kind! And thanks so much for being so great these past few weeks,” she replied.

“Aww, round of applause for Gracie!” The girls whooped, cheered, and clapped for their friend, eventually gathering her into a group hug.

“Alright, alright, I feel very loved, but now, there’s choreography that needs touching up!” Grace scanned the faces around her. “Let’s start with the second half of Don’t Need Your Love seeing as Cath hasn’t made it back just yet, and I can mark her track for now. Can we go from ‘you might think it’s tough’?”

Jane noticed that poor Anne looked lost in thought, just positively elsewhere, but she quickly snapped out of her fog when she noticed the others staring. “What? Sorry, yeah, sounds good”.

“If nobody objects, I’m just gonna speak the lyrics in rhythm instead of singing, yeah? My voice is a little shot from that last set of riffs,” Grace admitted. The queens took their places, Grace smiling at Anne from Cathy’s place at the other end of the stage. C’mon Anne, get your heart in it. She exhaled deeply.

“Five, six, ‘And you might think it’s tough...’”

Jump cross out, jump cross out

Slooow circle, back it up, jump

“I don’t need your-”

Hop and kick and step and shake and

Leg, throw, rock-cross-out and

Body roll, hips,

Arms, arms, shuffle left, shuffle right

“Hmm... could we do it again from the roll? There’s something a bit wonky happening with the shuffley bit at the very end, and the arms just before are getting a tad lazy. Remember, you’re supposed to look regal! I’m gonna watch this time, so just... pretend Cathy’s here or something, I don’t know”.

(Anne tried to ignore the way her breath caught in her chest)

“Y’know what, just back all the way up to ‘tough’ so I can see the whole thing”. The girls obliged and reset their formation.

“Alright here we go... Five, six, ‘And you mi-’”

“‘-ight think it’s tough, but I’ve got to let your love run cold, we’re taking back control, darling you should know-”

As she walked backwards to her next spot, Anne searched the mirror in front of her for the source of the melodious voice that had suddenly taken over Grace’s marking. A flash of electric blue moving towards the front of the room caught her eye. Cath.

“I don’t need your love, no, no-”

Anne felt an exhilarating surge of energy course through her body. Suddenly, every jump and bounce felt electrified. “Can’t let it get the better of us, no, no”.

The segment of choreo that Grace has asked to see had ended, but that wasn’t stopping anyone. Cathy was moving to take her spot center stage for the riff chorus, and the others (most by now having joined in singing the backups) were encroaching in on her.

Anne swayed her hips back and forth as she sang, bouncing up and down along with Aragon and pausing for a moment to lean her head on Jane’s shoulder. All the while though, she kept half an eye on Cathy - Cathy sinking to the ground as her voice rose upwards in a scoop, Cathy coolly staring down an imaginary audience as she confidently strutted forward, Cathy’s eyes closed and her head thrown just slightly back as she released a chillingly powerful riff.

The girls punched their fists in the air, having reached the end of the number. Within moments, they were a pile of limbs and hair, each grabbing at any visible pieces of Cathy.

“Welcome back, darling!!”

“-missed you so-“

“-look right tan-“

“-good to see you!”

“God, I’ve missed you guys so much! I never thought I’d say this, but it felt weird having that much alone time,” Cathy laughed.

“We want to hear all about your trip,” Kat pressed.

“I’ll tell you all about it, but I’ve got a feeling this one isn’t done with us yet,” said Cathy, squeezing Grace around the shoulders and playfully tousling her hair. Anne involuntarily raised an eyebrow. “How’d you hold up then, Amazing Grace?”

“I felt pretty good about it, honestly!”

“Pretty good? She was bloody brilliant,” Anne interjected. Cathy tilted her head up to meet Anne’s eyes (had they always been so green?). While she’d been away, she’d noticed that on more than one occasion, Anne’s jarring Northern accent had popped into her head uninvited with a running commentary of sorts. Cathy wasn’t unpleased so much as surprised - she was fond of Anne, but she tended to spend more time around Aragon and Jane.

Cathy finally smiled. “I’ll bet she was. Did you get her to buy into your Cotton Eyed Joe idea?”

Anne cackled wickedly. “HAH - as if”.

“Your what now?” Jane inquired.

“It’s nothing, it’s stu-“

“Every night during intermission, Anne walks right up to me while I’m meditating and begs me to do the Cotton Eyed Joe with her when we dance together during Kitty’s part of the Megasix. Refuses to leave well enough alone, too - I swear, she just sits there making puppy dog eyes at me. Eventually, I realized I could get her to stop by plugging my ears and singing the Green Giant commercial jingle at her really really loudly and very off-key.”

Anne grinned, snickering at the memory. “Hey now, don’t expect me to help next time you can’t reach the top shelf”.

She took notice of Cathy’s barely-rumpled cropped cerulean hoodie and white lace-up joggers. Two immaculate Dutch braids ran down from the tip of her forehead and hung over her shoulders, edges perfectly set. Jeez, how does she still look like that after a day of airport travel? She suddenly felt self-conscious about her cut-up tiger t-shirt, sweatpants, and unruly top knot.

“Alright queens, back to it - we want to get out of here at a reasonable hour, don’t we? That last shuffle step looked much sharper to me, so let’s move on to No Way. Let me see the formation in the first chorus where you do the hands on shoulders bit”. The girls moved into their diamond with Aragon in the front, Anne and Cathy standing just off her shoulders.

“Can we hold and check the spacing on this?” Grace called. Everyone put their hands in position.

It must’ve been at least 6 full seconds before Anne realized her fingertips were brushing against Cathy’s where their hands met behind Aragon’s back. Inhaling sharply, she jerked her hand away and looked hastily to her left. Cathy shot her a quizzical look. “Sorry,” Anne mouthed at her, repositioning her hand slightly. “You’re fine,” Cathy mouthed back.

“Spacing looks better, let me see the diamond thingy in motion. Five, six, seven, eight, one-”

“If you thought for a moment-’”

Cath felt the beat pulsing through her as she bounced. She’d missed Aragon’s brassy, confident vocals. Slide, slide, twirl... it had been weeks, but she found she slipped back into the choreography with ease. Cross stage right in front of Anne, then fall in line behind Jane. She caught Anne’s eye as they passed each other and smiled at her. Anne reciprocated with one of her unfathomably odd (yet endearing) facial expressions as the two took their places in line. The girls giggled wildly as they body rolled opposite each other before stepping into their final poses of the chorus.

“YES, could everyone turn and watch Anne and Cathy do that last roll? If each one of you would put that much sauce into it, I could die a happy dance captain. Let’s see it again, you two: one, two, three, four-”

There was no time for Anne to panic or to process the heat of all the eyes watching her. All she could do was stare unwaveringly at Cathy as the two of them moved in unison (This was probably for the better, seeing as off to the side, Kat was tugging excitedly at Jane’s sleeve, and behind Anne and Cathy, Cleves was demonstrating her approval with some very suggestive dance moves).

It suddenly felt incredibly warm in the room. Head swimming, Anne could barely register anything else that was happening until Jane walked over, holding her green water bottle out to her. She reached out to touch Anne’s forehead.

“You alright there, darling? You feel a little warm. Anything bothering you?”

“I’m alright, just a little tired”.

“Really? So you’re definitely... not hot, or bothered? Not even in the slightest?”

“I told you, I’m fine, Jane, promise. You’re the one being massively weird, ya kook!”

“Alright, then. Just as long as you know that if something were going on, you could tell me, or any of us”.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re such a mom?”

“Yeah, I might’ve heard that once or twice.” Jane rubbed Anne’s back affectionately before leaving her to her thoughts.

Anne looked around to see where Cathy had gone to so she could apologize for her awkward staring, and then for her awkward fingers (again), but Cathy was across the room with Grace reviewing the most recent set of choreo changes to Kat’s number. For a moment, Anne stood transfixed by the duo’s equally fluid movements, but she was then pulled back to reality by a sudden twinge in her gut. Man, pull it together. I swear, Boleyn, whatever’s got you so jumpy, I sure hope it lets up soon.

#parrlyn #catherine parr #anne boleyn #katherine howard #grace mouat #six the musical #six #millie o'connell #maiya quansah breed

94 notes · View notes

technicolorfamiliar · 5 years

Text

The Artist vs Social Media

I have been sharing my feelings about art and its ever-growing relationship to social media with a number of people recently. I wrote a bit about it here some months ago, but that was primarily focused on reactions to different types of art I was posting on different platforms. Without a doubt, it’s been something that’s given me pause for a while, and I have a suspicion I can’t be the only person that feels this way.

To be clear: this is not meant to be an attack on the people who enjoy and excel at being a creative on social media. It is purely an expression of my own frustration, a cry out to others who have struggled with the same issues, because I know I’m not alone.

First of all, my personal style just doesn’t compliment a successful social media presence, I’m such a fan of the long-format, in general. I don’t want anything in my life to be bite-sized, cropped, or condensed. I struggle to convey the concepts teeming in my heart in a limited number of characters and pixels. As I am evolving as an artist, I enjoy incorporating many layers of meaning, drawing on a multitude of sources for inspiration. Social media, for the most part, wants to condense, compartmentalize, limit. It’s short-format, lacks fluidity, and promotes shorter attention spans. It feels counterintuitive to the kind of art I love and the art I want to be making.

For as streamlined and easy as social media has made sharing artwork with the great big world out there, it’s also birthed a lot of additional anxiety and despair. At least that’s been my experience. Some people have taken to social media like ducks to water, they are thriving in an endless stream of posts and pictures and stories. But this particular artmaker finds the rise of social media more like an impossible mountain, and climbing it is a requirement.

I envy the artists and makers who have figured out how to hack social media in order to promote their work and their brand. These people make it look easy, like social media integration with one’s art practice is as simple as breathing. I understand how it is crucial now as any kind of artist to have a big social media presence. But despite that understanding, I still have a lot of issues with it.

I was in art school in the still relatively early days of Instagram. Facebook and Twitter were big, but I didn’t really ever get too deeply involved in either platform. For me, Facebook was mostly for staying in touch with friends and family back home. I didn’t even have a smart phone until some time after I graduated. The school I attended encouraged us to build a website, get a business card, but there was no way to prepare us for the expansion of these apps among others that would emerge later on. This is not a sorry attempt at an excuse for my complicated relationship with social media, because there are a lot of artists in their early 30s right now who are very clearly doing well in that arena.

Circa 2009 – 2011, using social media for networking was beginning to be a real thing to consider. Having a Facebook page and separate Instagram and Twitter accounts devoted to your craft in addition to your website and blog in order to reach all possible professional connections was increasingly important. And now, they are all absolutely essential. People think you must be kidding yourself if you’re making art and don’t have a social media presence. I’ve caught myself being judgmental of young artists who aren’t on social media. But then I’m reminded of my own issues with Facebook and Instagram and all the others and I think maybe I should shut my mouth.

—

That’s the background. The real thing I’m trying to say is this:

Social media is exhausting.

I hate it.

For all the good content being generated and shared on FB, IG, etc there are a thousand mentally and emotionally draining posts being shared by people who, by and large, aren’t on social media to promote their craft. And that’s fine, people should have a place to vent their frustrations, laugh at funny or un-funny memes, share recipes and cute animal videos, get 100+ validating reactions to their photos, post thoughts/criticisms/ideas too long for Twitter but too short for a blog…

But to expect an artist generating original content to compete with everything else being blasted on every social media platform is complete and utter unrealistic nonsense.

—

My big, huge, major beef with social media is the totally insane decision to stop having posts featured in chronological order on pretty much every major platform. This really hurts creative people who are trying to get exposure, share their work to the world (or at least their friends and followers), and requires them to generate even more content, or share the same post over and over again in the hopes that their painting or photo or video somehow makes it over all the other posts from everybody else that are only just so much noise. Trying to get noticed or share your work with likeminded creatives you don’t already know is like shouting in a canyon full of other people shouting, drowned out by all the other voices and the echoes of the voices.

But that’s not the only thing about social media that keeps me up at night.

There are people on social media who have become experts in making their lives look like perfect, magical journeys of self discovery and growth and good fortune. Seeing their perfectly composed, perfectly lit photos of what is supposedly their daily lives, their brunches, their cocktails, their pets, their clothes, their travels, their significant others, and whatever else makes me want to not even try. Why should I even bother to try to compete with that? Looking at those kinds of posts immediately makes me feel inferior because 1) I’m not living that theoretically beautiful, charmed life, and 2) I’m not generating masses of content like that of my own experience. I look at my weird little life and there’s hardly anything photo- or post-worthy, at least not on a daily basis, not enough to get above everyone else’s noise. When did having a social media presence become an art form in and of itself? One of my very close friends described social media as performance art, which is probably the best description of this phenomenon I’ve ever heard. I’m not saying it’s not hard work — in order to project this perfect life, you have to be a photographer, or at least know and/or have the money to pay for one, be a master of self-marketing, and you have to set aside the time in your day to make the posts (more on that in a bit). But as someone with at least half a brain, I know that the content being gobbled up by glowing, supportive friends and followers is only a version of reality.

I know I’m not the only one who feels utterly alienated by the “perfect lives” being presented on social media, and I know that it’s not most people’s intention to alienate their friends by posting gorgeous photographs and positive affirmations of their own journeys.

And yet, even just thinking about it is exhausting. It’s a destructive and deadly combination of self-loathing and self-doubt inspired by the vast majority of what I see on Facebook and Instagram with knowing full well that those feelings are totally unfounded since the posts are not a true reflection of reality. It doesn’t motivate me, it doesn’t inspire me to follow their lead, it doesn’t get my blood pumping. It just makes me tired.

—

By my nature, I am a relatively private person. I have no real desire to share my private life with strangers, and it’s a struggle for me to open up to acquaintances. I have a hard time talking about myself, my dreams and aspirations, my needs and wants with other people. I keep to myself, I have a small circle of close friends and family with whom I share things openly.

There’s nothing like the gut-wrenching feeling you get when you’re talking passionately about your art or your interests or your hopes for the future with someone and seeing the very moment their eyes glaze over with disinterest. It’s a special kind of soul-crushing dismissal that has lead me to live an introvert’s life. Because why, after all, would I share anything with people when that’s the reaction I often got in my youth when sharing with my peers?

The whole grand purpose of social media is to share. Share everything and share often. Artists who hold regular jobs and don’t have an abundance of free time or energy to devote to generating social media content on top of the art they’re already making need to find that magical balance. The Buzzfeed article about burnout that was circulating a few months ago touches on this a bit. Work + Art + Self Promotion. That’s always been the case for artists looking to make a profit off their work, but now it’s on a whole other level and puts creatives in direct competition with social media influencers and everyone else on FB, IG, Twitter, Tumblr, Snapchat, etc. When I say time and energy, I mean the lack of energy I personally have after a working a job that already requires me to use my creativity, strategy, and organizational skills. When I get home or when I finish a job, I want to recharge so I can have the energy and motivation to actually sit in my studio and make new art. I struggle with budgeting out my time and energy for taking photos, writing cute little descriptions, thinking up clever hashtags, and setting timers to remind me when to post in order to get the most views.

I’m over-focused right now on making the art, in finding my voice as an illustrator, in re-vamping my portfolio and considering the future of my practice. I would need a personal assistant to run my social media accounts in an effective and professional way, and I don’t understand how other artists don’t have assistants. Or maybe they do. At the very least it would require me to have my phone in my hand far more than I already do, so another reason to keep it on me, especially in my studio while I’m in the zone, working, makes me feel gross.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “But Emma… you took all this time to write and edit this long blog post. Surely you could have used that time to work on content for your IG or FB accounts.” And you would be right. However, I’m in a place mentally and emotionally where I see the social media game, I understand it, but I just don’t want to play it. Not the way we’re all expected to if we want to get noticed. I’m not a performance artist, I’m not extroverted enough, my process doesn’t lend itself to this new gold standard of being an artist in the 21st century. Am I making big strides to change my process? Not really, because the very nature of social media feels inauthentic to me and the work I want to be making.

—

In the end… I don’t really know how to make social media work for me and my own journey as an artist. It would be great if there was some compromise, some middle path for people like me who are rubbed the wrong way by hashtags and stories and filters. Is there even a possibility for existing any other way as an artist today? Because everyone I know who creates any kind of art seems to have accepted and figured out the key to doing well on social media. It’s almost not even worth airing my grievances since I’m not willing to completely change and conform to something that does not feel right to me.

I’ll just keep plugging along as I have been until I figure it out. Or some kind souls who have been through a similar conundrum swoop in and offer their wisdom and insight.

#my writing #art vs social media #long post

6 notes · View notes

artdjgblog · 4 years

Photo

Innerview: Nathan Reusch / The Record Machine

October 2008

Art: DJG Design

Note: Interview for a series called "Where Are They Now?"

Over the years we have gotten to work with really great creative people. After doing this for five years we want to give you guys some more insight on who has helped be a part of this label and make it what it is today. First off we have an interview with Danny Gibson of DJG Design. Danny has always been behind the scenes at TRM. He has helped create almost all of our logos and helped us with a lot of art direction and design since the begining. He also designed our very first release for Jame Dean Trio. 01) Introduction I was at the historic first official meeting of The Record Machine held at McCoy’s in West Port of Kansas City, MO over half a decade ago. My say didn’t amount to much. I think my mouth was full as I was mostly positioned to eat free cheeseburgers. 02) How have you been spending your days? My days are spent. Creeping on the Crow’s Feet I find that time is more easily measured in flap jack format than ever before. Something big has always been beaming and beating and I find myself blind peeping to see how far back the dogs with prickly sticks in their mouths yip, kick and nip for my heels. I do beat the crickets up at 5 am Monday thru Saturday in order to pinch a bit back. Evenings and weekends find me down slide sliver squeezes as well. I engage in making things and find some peace through all the pieces with my maker in the act of doing so. The handful of women I share space with enlightenment my walk as well…kitties and wife. Walks are good too and Fall time is the best for comfortable living in Kansas City. 03) Where have you been spending your days or evenings? A bounty of selections from my basement is always on the menu. I’m easily entertained hunched over at my good ol’ door desk. In the mean time I appreciate the company of my wife, kitty hair on my clothes, celebrating all movies, well-tailored music that sometimes requires a third ear and high rise stacks of books and comics. For nourishment I scrape every pan and pot my wife cooks in. And I am the dishwasher. In the twilight occasion, a one scoop waffle cone of peanut butter ice cream at Miami Ice just down the street does me correctly. If I’m in need to see the stars or get away, the family farm isn’t too far off. 04) What has been in your ears? I love big chunks of ear wax. While rockin’ to the thunder that Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band brought at Sprint Center here in KC, I had a big chunk of ear gunk fall out and it was heavenly. I’m really tickled by the musical foundations a fellow basement dweller named Micah Buzan of Blue Springs, MO is cranking out. He is only 18 and one to watch. Other Kansas City area highlights include The Tambourine Club and The ACBs, who both not only crank out some great and fresh music, but are genuinely lovely lads and don’t boast at the art of playing “rock star”. Far out of this area…I’m excited to hear more from Empire of the Sun as the single “Walking on a Dream” is some of the best dance pop I’ve heard since Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” album. Which, I’ve been rattling the rafters with that ’80s gold as well whenever I tire of the Samey So-So’s of most things current. Though, there are a few great new ones and “Evil Urges” by My Morning Jackets is my favorite album so far in 2008. And I can never get enough Bruce Springsteen in my diet. Every day and sometimes every minute of the day calls for a different selection from The Boss’s healthy catalogue. I’m also into the music of Suicide lately. Oh, and I’m quite convinced that Harry Nilsson is one of our finest song craftsmen as a handful of his albums have really been making sense to me and his range is all over the map. 05) What has been inspiring or refreshing to you lately? The work ethic, ideas, passion and output of singer-songwriters Harry Nilsson and Bruce Springsteen gets me going. I finished reading Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road” for the second and one half times and it is gold. I like Michael Chabon’s writing and work ethic a lot too and am spending my second Fall in his books…the same with Flannery O’Connor. In terms of arts and crafts, Saul Steinberg, Henryk Tomaszewski, Eric Carle and Bill Traylor continue to get me to smiling. Oh, and I must hand out an exclamation to fellow maker Ben Chlapek of Neversleeping.com as he is involved with a lot of lovely creations. 06) Earliest Influences that you can think of? Farm Life / Giant Watermelon Patches / Giant Pumpkins / Grandaddy Long Legs / Dead Animals Under Bed / Homemade Stuffed Animals / Taxidermy / Seed Corn Packaging and Farm Implement Logos / Small Town Gas Stations / Uncle Ed’s Horse Drawing Skills / The Seasons / Fireworks / Animals Big and Little / Hunting / Dead Animal Backpack / Grandma Gibson’s Handmade Aesthetics, Checker skills, Sugar Cookies and Salmon Patties / Grandpa Gibson’s Burnt Pancakes and Old Western-Love Story Reading / The Sand Box / Tree Houses and Forts / Popping Asphalt Bubbles in Summertime / Snow Days / Hard Rains / Holidays / Fishing / Camping / Guns and War / Drawing WWII Battles with Dad / Raccoon Wall Paper / Puppets / Anything Jim Henson / Mad Magazine / Mad Balls / Garbage Pail Kids / Dr. Demento / Taping Music Off the Radio / “Live & Let Die” by Paul McCartney & Wings / Mom’s Record Pile / The Beatles / Oldies Music / ‘70s T.V. Theme Tunes / ‘80s Pop Music (Michael Jackson for sure) / Weird Al Yankovic / Ren & Stimpy / Pee-Wee’s Playhouse / Saturday Morning Cartoons / “Gummi Bears” / Comic Books / Tractor Pulls / Big Foot (Creature and Monster Truck) / “Star Wars” / “The Swiss Family Robinson” / “James Bond” / “Indiana Jones” / “Rambo” / “Commando” / “Batman” (Tim Burton) / Going to the Movies / Pizza and Tacos / Soda Pop / Flavored Frozen Pops / Kick Ball / Grandma Dayton’s Spaghetti / Racking Leaves and Riding to the Dump with Grandpa Dayton / Sports (Michael Jordan for sure) / Sports Team Mascots / Sports Stadiums / Collecting Sports Trading Cards / Skyscrapers / Cake and Ice Cream / Late Nights at Best Friend Ean’s Funeral Home House / “…red and yellow, black and white they are precious in his sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world.” / Being Alone / Cutting and Pasting / Falling Off a Slide, Hitting My Head and Blacking Out in Kindergarten 07) Best thing you have seen on a little or big screen in a while? P.T. Anderson’s “Punch-Drunk Love” is my favorite movie and I just took my 8th dip with it. My favorite 2008 movie and the best rockumentary ever so far is “Young @ Heart” and close behind for top of this year is “Be Kind Rewind” and “Son of Rambow”. This Fall and Winter look to boast one of the finest crops of films…I’m highly anticipating “The Road”, “The Wrestler”, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”, “Synecdoche, NY”, “The Changeling” and many others. Other great watches of late (old and new) include “The Tin Drum”, “Hoop Dreams”, “It’s A Wonderful Life”, “The Wicker Man” (1973), “Sorry, Haters”, “The Seven Year Itch”, “The Cars That Ate Paris”, “Don’t Look Now”, “Dark Days”, “Rat Catcher”, “The King of Kong”, “Alice”, “Dear Wendy” and “The Band’s Visit”. On the small screen, “Planet Earth” is mind-blowing worship that demands for me to invest in a projector for the future. In T.V. Land this summer I discovered and fell in love with “Beauty & The Geek”. I’m excited for the cool new sci-fi show with cool typography called “Fringe” and another season with the excellent “How I Met Your Mother”. Currently I’m backtracking through the entire series of “Sex & The City” and am absolutely loving it and can’t wait to get the movie! Oh, and the live Broadway production of “The Drowsy Chaperone” is gold genius and made me cry. 08) Last best show you have been to? Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band in Kansas City on August 24, 2008. It is the best show I’ve ever seen, even better than two previous Boss concerts. Sprint Center is now officially called Spring Center. I can’t wait for the Super Bowl half-time… 09) Any links to things you want to pass along? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZYwhvD2-fYw 10) The Final Word? (one word only please) GRILLEDCHEESETOMATOSOUP -djg

#innerviews

0 notes

skaylanphear · 7 years

Text

Running Flat

*kicks down fandom door* I’M COMIN’ IN!

Lance, like all the other paladins, is finally getting used to the “mind meld” they all have to indulge in when controlling their lions. Until someone’s uncontrollable crush comes in and knocks them all back in surprise. It’s a crush that circles persistently through their thoughts and only gets stronger as time goes on, until they begin to realize this might be a bit more serious than the term “crush” implies.

Meanwhile, the unfortunate paladin behind it all is trying desperately to bury the feelings away, yet failing at every turn.

Klance.

Part 2

Part 1

The mind meld, as Lance (because he was a genius) had deemed it, that the five paladins were quite forced into when they were in their lions was something they'd all been initially uncomfortable with. But as their battles with the Galra and practice days had worn on, they'd grown quite accustomed to the whole thing. The mental connection wasn't overly invasive, after all. More or less, it was about intention.

Not intention as in they could control what was projected and what wasn't, but more as though their thoughts and feelings had to be intentionally severe. For example, Pidge's irritation when they were cornered by the Galra was always very obvious, or Shiro's deep desire that they all stay calm and collected. Hunk was known for, well, panic, but that usually faded pretty quickly in favor a deep thrumming determination and focus (as well as hunger when they were practicing boring formations). Keith had less constant interjections and was more inclined to shoot them up with irritation or rage (depending on the situation) for short bursts of seconds. Lance was also pretty sure that, when things were dire, the fierce desire to protect came from Keith too. He'd thought it was Shiro at first, until their head's steady kind of acute protectiveness had come to the surface.

Though everyone was flattered at these rare displays by Keith, no one said anything. Probably wouldn't have gone over too well and, honestly, making Keith feel embarrassed by the bonds he'd formed with them probably wasn't a good idea when considering how he kept to himself most of the time.

Because, yes, even Lance knew when there was potential to go a step too far. He liked to bicker and poke and prod at Keith, and be a general annoyance to everyone, but he wasn't out to hurt feelings. Not intentionally anyway. He was a people person, after all, and spent a great deal of energy feeling others out and learning their boundaries. Sure, his fellow paladins probably didn't realize as much (he knew they thought he was slightly ridiculous and maybe even a little stupid—most people did), but it was true. He was generally thoughtful and only pushed as far as he was sure someone could take.

His supposed intellect (or assumed lack) and knack for being annoying aside, he brought his own degree of Lance to the mind meld mud pile of feelings. Optimism, that was what he generally projected in battle or practice. After all, they had to have faith they were going to succeed in order to do so. Maybe optimism wasn't as important as Hunk's determination, Shiro's steady hand, Pidge's irritated analyses, or Kieth's adrenaline inducing rage, but it must have been good for something. Otherwise there'd be problems. Allura was always going on about how they had to be balanced, how it was important that their own thoughts work well with everyone else's.

And since no one had been complaining, Lance could only come to so many conclusions. Either his optimism was useful or, well, simply wasn't a hindrance, worst case scenario. Not like they really talked about each other's mental brain waves, after all. They'd all pretty much deduced who was who—it was pretty obvious—but so long as things were going smoothly, there was no need to call any of it to attention.

That was what Lance told himself anyway. Even if his fluffy, hovering over their heads optimism was as much use as a lawnmower in space, at least he wasn't causing problems. That in and of itself was enough to keep him positive.

Maybe he was a fifth wheel, but at least he wasn't running flat.

They kept up this general understanding quite well, each of them acclimating to the feeling of their minds rubbing together until it became habitual.

Which made something new cropping up that much more obvious to everyone.

At first, it was this barely noticeable thrum, so Lance didn't think too much of it. They were just practicing some formations outside the castle, safely tucked out of Zarkon's reach, and sometimes one or two of them were slightly preoccupied. It happened—they were only human after all—and couldn't be totally in sync all the time.

Generally, however, when these foreign feelings cropped up, they made a few turns through the constant loop that was their minds before the person responsible got their act together.

At worst—should someone be really off their game—Shiro would say something.

Which was what he did then, when the subtle thrumming didn't go away. It was like a vague itch and was beginning to distract them all.

"Everyone, remember to focus," he said into the coms. "I know these formations seem easy these days, but that doesn't mean practice isn't important."

Lance nodded inside his helmet, steering Blue expertly around his fellow Paladins and wondering who it was that was thinking of other things. The familiar was obvious, but unless it was a sensation that could easily be related to one of them, it was sometimes hard to tell who was guilty and who wasn't.

Despite Shiro's warning, however, the feeling persisted.

In fact, it grew stronger, blossoming between them like an unwanted flower that gave away more than was likely intended.

Pidge giggled.

"Focus, Paladins."

"How are we supposed to focus, Shiro?" Lance asked. "I feel like I'm getting filled up with warm fuzzies or bubble water."

Keith growled.

"Just because someone's feeling extra affectionate, doesn't mean we need to let it distract us," Shiro maintained.

Because that was what the itch had turned into. Someone—though it be yet a mystery—was having some very, very, uh, "friendly" feelings toward someone else among their group. And while it was likely embarrassing for whoever couldn't control it, Lance thought it was kind of nice to feel something so bubbly and innocent for once.

"Okay, seriously, I can't focus with this going on," Pidge said, laughing again and nearly running her lion into Keith's when she was supposed to have been spiraling in the other direction. "This group crush," as it'd become, "is really distracting."

Shiro sighed, sounding somewhat sharper in tone. "We need to be able to work through this kind of thing."

"That sounds awfully defensive, Space Dad," Lance teased. "You know what they say, the more you deny it…"

Shiro was quite obviously not amused. But everyone knew that he had feelings for Allura and this "crush" was, well, it was directed at one of the paladins, that much was also clear. They all kept Shiro's feelings safely locked up nonetheless. They could sense it a bit every time Allura came over the com, but they knew better than to so much as comment.

The realization had also spurred Lance to flirt with her a little less. But only a little.

"Can we just focus on practice?" Keith asked, sounding exasperated. "This is a waste of time."

"Now that's just mean, hot stuff," Lance replied, using the nick name he knew irritated Keith the most. "Love is not a waste of time."

A flash of annoyance passed from Keith and bounced between them all.

"I bet it's Hunk," Lance decided, though he knew perfectly well that it wasn't. He'd know what a Hunk-crush felt like—they'd known each other far too long for him not to.

"Hm? What?" Hunk's voice came abruptly over the coms. "Sorry, I was thinking about lunch and- Ohhhhh, wait, what's that?" He giggled like a little school girl. "Somebody's got a crush!"

"How long have you been daydreaming?" Pidge asked.

"Since, like, two formations ago."

Shiro sighed. Again. "Look, it doesn't matter who has a crush on who, Keith is right. We have practice to get to and something like this shouldn't be enough to stop us in our tracks." Because they'd all come to a stop, their lions floating motionlessly in space. "Sometimes things like this will happen and we need to just work through it. Now enough chatter and form ranks for drill nineteen."

Though there was a bit more good-natured snickering, they did as they were told and didn't mention the crush for the rest of practice, despite it never seeming to go away.

"Maybe one of the lions has a crush," Pidge joked as they were heading into the common room that afternoon.

"Like, on another lion?" Hunk asked.

"Pfft, yeah right." Lance popped the collar of his hood. "If there's a crush to be had, ya'll know who it's directed at." He thought his implication was pretty clear, but Pidge and Hunk still dared to pretend to be clueless. So Lance cleared his throat. "Well, whoevers lion it is, they should know I'm taken. Me and Blue, we're steady as they come." He made a leveling motion with his hand.

"Good to know your romantic considerations include a giant lion spaceship," Pidge said with a smirk.

Lance glared. "Of course they do. Blue is a beautiful, stunning woman and deserves every attention I have to give."

"Okay, this is getting weird," Hunk decided. "We don't need to know what you and your lion get up to in your cockpit."

Lance was nearly ready to be offended, but then settled for a sly grin instead. "Cockpit," he said simply.

Both Hunk and Pidge left him in their dust, walking nearly fast enough to catch up with Keith and Shiro.

Unfortunately, the infamous crush didn't clear up as they'd all thought it would. The next time they were all suited up and in their lions, it was still there and thrumming as steadily as ever. In fact, it only grew stronger with each practice, though by small amounts. For a few days, Lance and Pidge did seriously consider that maybe it was a lion, but there was something inherently human about it, specifically how… shy the sensation was. Whoever was projecting it didn't want to be and was trying desperately to hold it back. Which just wasn't a lion characteristic. If the lions needed or wanted something, well, they made sure everybody knew about it.

It quickly became something they refused to talk about, no matter how heavily it weighed over them all. Sometimes, when they first got into their lions, they could feel the owner of the crush pushing back on it desperately, a slice of frantic panic that was much more personal than Hunk's overzealous freak outs during missions.

The one behind it, however, was never successful in keeping it at bay. And so it became a bit of a norm, until, finally, whoever it belonged to stopped trying to hide it. Instead, the crush was lined with a certain degree of resignation.

It wasn't until one morning—following a night of pummeling a Garlra fleet and making a run for it—that the issue cropped up again.

It was stupid, really. They'd just pulled off a ridiculously hard practice maneuver, one they'd been working on for weeks, and everyone was thrilled to have finally gotten it right.

"About time," Pidge said into the com. "I was pretty sure Lance was going to run headlong into Shiro for the millionth time."

"Hey! That's a hard move!" Lance snapped. "I don't see you trying to do it."

Pidge pouted.

"He's right," Shiro interjected. "If you can pull that twist regularly, we'll have yet another strategy. It is a hard move, Lance, and you should be proud."

"Yeah, Lance!" Hunk agreed.

Pidge sighed. "I guess you have turned out to be a pretty good pilot," she said, though she didn't sound all that thrilled about doing so.

Lance, on the other hand, silently preened at the attention. It wasn't every day that focus was put on him. Which was fine—he'd grown up in a giant family and knew attention was something to be earned. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to bask in it when he was able.

And then—right after Pidge's comment—was when it happened. The "crush" expanded and swelled abruptly, hazing through them all until it was surrounding Lance in a warm sort of buzz. A buzz that was both encouraging as well as filled with…

It was filled with love.

Needless to say, the sudden change took them all aback, multiple gasps of surprise echoing over the coms. Lance was among them, his hands tight around his control sticks as he blinked stupidly and gaped into the silence of his cockpit.

It wasn't something that was easy to recover from, after all. The feeling—which in itself seemed like an understated descriptor—was all-encompassing and completely engulfing. For a few seconds, Lance could have sworn he was wrapped up tight in his mother's arms, or standing beneath the Cuban sun, or even enjoying a worry-free afternoon with Blue (which had never happened). He felt safe and valued and… and raw.

The sensation was so poignant that he thought he might tear up if it smothered him much longer.

But it didn't stick around. Frantic panic abruptly rushed past them all and like a cat clawing down curtains, the haze was ripped away, the crush more subdued than it had been when it'd first shown up. Probably because there was a new blanket of mortification to drown it out.

To Lance, however, it felt like having a nice, warm, home-filled quilt ripped violently from his hands. So violently that he even whined into the com before he could stop himself.

For a few seconds, no one said a single thing, their lions once more floating motionlessly in space.

It was Allura that finally interrupted the silence. "Is everything alright? I'm not seeing any activity from anyone…?"

"Uh, yeah, everything's fine," Shiro said quickly, that he'd stumbled some over his words hammering through all the harder how… shocking the situation had been. But with the silence sliced, they were able to take stunted direction and finish up the practice, even if none were recovered enough to be on their top game.

Lance least of all. Sitting quietly in the kitchen while Hunk cooked (a rare occurrence in itself), he contemplated what had happened with furrowed brows and an out of character frown.

They all knew with certainty at that point who the crush was directed toward, if crush was even an appropriate word. To Lance, who'd been the target of the emotional swell, it'd been made perfectly clear that this was more than a crush. One of the four other paladins were…

They were in love with him. With Lance. While Lance liked to flaunt a cocky personality and flirt with anything he found relatively attractive, he'd never actually… dated anyone before. Which meant that he'd never found someone that had actually reciprocated any of his advances. Most of the time, his flirting was viewed as a silly bother and, while sometimes considering him charming, no one had ever taken him seriously.

Which made it a little hard for Lance to even believe that someone was… was in love with him. One of his teammates really thought that highly of him? But how? And why? Of them all, he had the least to offer, was… was the most replaceable. He'd didn't have Hunk or Pidge's smarts, or Shiro's Dad-Vibes, or Keith's mad skills at everything.

Yet, somehow, he'd managed to catch someone's attention.

But who?

Well, there were only four options. Unless… Unless it was a lion.

Okay, that was weird. No. No lions.

There was no way it was Shiro—he was way too obsessed with Allura.

And Keith was out too. Lance was pretty sure that the most Keith did was tolerate him, let alone like him.

Which left Hunk and Pidge…

Leaning forward on his stool, Lance narrowed his dark blue eyes at Hunk's back. He was leaning into the oven, pulling out a batch of cookies, and Lance said nothing as the large man turned to face him.

At which point, Hunk sighed. "It's not me," he said simply, setting the cookies down on the counter before putting his full focus on the conversation.

Lance tapped his chin thoughtfully. "There's no way for me to know that for sure…"

"Dude, I'm not in love with you. No offense, but you're not exactly my type. You know, being a dude and all."

Yet Lance remained stubbornly suspicious. "I'm watching you…"

"You know it's not me," Hunk continued, slipping the cookies off the sheet with some kind of overly-long spatula. Alien Spatula.

"Well if it's not you, that only leaves Pidge!" Lance hissed out, before reaching up and gripped the sides of his face in distress. "Oh god, Pidge is in love with me! Hunk! What do I do?!"

Hunk looked doubtful. "Why would you think it's Pidge?"

"That's the only other option there is! Shiro wants to get in Allura's alien space pants, Keith hates my guts. If not you, then it's Pidge. Or…" Lance gulped. "Or one of the lions really is in love with me! Oh god, Hunk! There's a giant cat-shaped spaceship in love with me! Blue is going to kill that other lion! We'll be ripped apart!" He put the back of his hand against his forehead dramatically and leaned back. "Voltron will never rise again!"

"It's not a lion, you know that."

"Then it's Pidge!"

"I'm what?"

Just then, the very girl hopped up onto the stood beside Lance, peering between the two curiously.

"Uh…" Hunk was obviously uncomfortable, as was Lance, which Pidge clearly noticed. She looked puzzled, before then becoming exasperatingly irritated.

"Don't flatter yourself," she said simply, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not in love with you. Like that's even possible."

"Hey!"

Pidge waved off Lance's shout of protest. "You seriously haven't figured out who it is?"

"Pidge, don't," Hunk warned.

"Wait, wait, wait," Lance waved his hands dramatically. "You know who it is?"

"Er, uh, well, n-not exactly…" Hunk shrugged and focused down on his cookies.

"Look, it's not Shiro, we all know that since we know what his crush feels like already. And it's not Hunk, at least not after today when we found out this thing was directed at you, of all people."

"Hey!"

"And it's not me because, one, no, and two, I'm not really into the whole love scene."

"Uh, well that means it has to be a lion then," Lance deduced, holding up a knowing finger.

Pidge looked at him like he was an idiot. "Or Keith."

Lance said nothing for a moment, before releasing a loud, short, bitter laugh. "Yeah, no. Keith hates my guts."

"I don't know that I'd say he hates you," Hunk corrected.

"Okay, well, he's definitely not in love with me."

"He's the only option. Process of elimination."

"Or," Lance said slyly, "one of you is lying."

Pidge rolled her eyes. "Well, I thought the crush at first belonged to you, so I guess I can't blame you for not believing it. The idea that Keith is in love at all, let alone with a buffoon like you, is pretty unbelievable."

"Gee, thanks." Lance was not amused.

"But," she bit into her cookie, "it's really your only option."

"Or it's a lion."

Both Pidge and Hunk spoke at the same time. "It's not a lion."

"Well! It's also not Keith!" Huffing, Lance stood, waving his arms in their direction helplessly before once again narrowing his eyes. "I'm watching you two," he said, pointing at them as he began to walk away. "Always watching," he whispered lastly, just as he was backing out of the room.

More frustrated that he would have preferred, Lance once more ran through all his options as he walked to his room. Despite her words, Pidge was still at the top of his list of most likely. She was probably just trying to throw him off her trail.

Still, even Pidge seemed inherently unlikely. It seemed unlikely that any of them could feel that way about him. Maybe… Maybe he was misinterpreting the whole thing? What if it hadn't actually been directed at him and it'd just been a mix-up in their muddle of mind waves? Or what if it wasn't love and they were just assuming it was?

He was the goof, the clown, the flirt. He couldn't imagine that any of his teammates would fall for him. He just… didn't seem their types.

But…

Reaching up, Lance laid his hand on his chest before gripping some at his t-shirt. For a moment, it'd been so welcoming and… and comforting, being loved. It'd felt… safe. And good. And pure. And it'd been painful when it'd been ripped away.

No, he couldn't think like that. No matter who it was that felt such things for him, he couldn't encourage it or go looking for it. Fact was, he didn't feel the same way about them and it wouldn't be fair to take advantage of their feelings. He did… he did like someone, but as he'd told Hunk and Pidge, they hated his guts (most likely).

There was no way the feelings belonged to Keith. The red paladin could hardly stand to be in the same room as Lance most of the time, let alone be any more than a friend. If that. They were rivals, mostly, and at each other's throats whenever they could be. Granted, Lance liked fighting with Keith. One, it was fun, and two, it was a good cover up for his own feelings. Despite what everyone probably thought (except for maybe Hunk), Lance was very good at controlling his emotions. Growing up in a big family teaches patience and restraint, and a certain degree of acceptance that things are not going to always go the way one wants. Becoming emotional wasn't acceptable when he had so many others to look out for. Not that emotions were frowned upon, but he was an older brother. He was used to putting others before himself, to hiding his own pain.

Which made it easier to accept that Keith didn't want anything to do with him. Voltron, his friends, they came first. He couldn't afford to be making a stink about his own personal issues.

Whoever it was that had feelings for him, however, seemed to be having far more trouble with the whole ordeal. Which Lance felt bad about. It was obvious they didn't want to broadcast their feelings, but just couldn't help it.

Well, it was probably better not to pursue the issue anyway. Yeah, that was best. There was no way Lance would ever tease anyone about those kinds of feelings and it was probably wise not to go snooping around about them either. Whoever it was (he was still thinking Pidge), they'd get over it soon enough. Just like he'd eventually get over Keith.

After all, he'd had plenty of crushes, even fallen a few times, and he was always able to move on.

That was what was best. Just… let it go.

Things would go back to normal soon.

Part 2

#Running Flat #Voltron #vld #klance #lance #keith #fanfiction #fanfic #my fics

1K notes · View notes