#also because I have never read it in English and have deliberately waited until my Chinese was good enough

[meichenxi]

ATTENTION: MXTX BOOKS ACQUIRED!!!!!

!!!! yes!!!!! you heard that correctly!!!!!  I now have copies of TGCF and MDZS in traditional chinese, vertically laid out, plus a whole bunch of other books!!

(I have just returned from taiwan; it was by far not my only purpose in going, but I also decided to stay four days extra at the end after my friend had left just so I could go a-hunting.)

I am. so unbelievably excited. and especially because, with never having a) looked at these books in chinese, b) never having read anything beyond a few lines in traditional, and c) never having read vertical formatting, they are....readable? not with a dictionary on kindle or pleco like I’ve done before to make sense of things, but readable cover-to-cover without a dictionary at all. 

that is a HUGE step for me. reading has always been a bit of a mental block and with the traditional especially and the formatting I was very much expecting it to be a strugglebus situation and don’t get me wrong, it requires a good fucking deal of mental concentration and yes, I do occasionally run my finger down the page to not lose my place like an old person, but...I’m reading them

in the last four? three? days, I’ve read, as of right now, 68 pages of tgcf volume one consecutively (as in, just from the beginning) and over 90 pages in total (+ the pages I read for the scenes I like and skipped to). and it’s so FUNNY!!! I had honestly forgotten. I’m laughing out loud at points!! I read extremely quickly in english, and also have a terrible memory, which combines into flying through books and never having any idea what happened in them - reading more slowly I feel like I can enjoy what is going on more, and appreciate just honestly how funny the writing is. it’s hilarious. xie lian is such a moron (affectionate). ‘next time, if you have to throw something, throw me and not the food, ok?’ what a loser!!!! what a guy!!!!! 

so, 68 pages in, now for an honest appraisal of where I’m at.

first, formatting. 

 the vertical layout - look, going to be honest, I kind of hate it. I’m not used to looking up and down and feel like I’m bobbing my head, and it makes scanning a line more time-consuming. on the other hand, I can feel a massive increase in speed and comfort from even when I started three or four days ago, so I think it’s a matter of practice. I noticed also that when I went to the bookstore I still have the completely hilarious and useless habit of tilting my head to look at the books. the titles of which are written vertically. 

second, traditional. 

I am reading a lot slower than I do in simplified and horizontal laid-out texts, which is not surprising. the traditional is the biggest stumbling block definitely - but it’s not as big actually as I would have thought. I’ve been picking up frequent very different characters with two or three repetitions; not enough to internalise them and read them as seamlessly as in simplified chinese, but enough to look at them, even when it’s a little jarring, and go ‘oh, that means this’ in my head. I have found that I tend to subvocalise more with a) the increase in very different traditional characters, and b) the difficulty of the text. when there are simple conversations or directions I don’t subvocalise at all, which I consider generally speaking to be a good thing as it improves your speed of reading. when there’s a lot of mid-frequency fairly different characters (i.e. ones that I have picked up in these few days but aren’t common enough to be every two lines, and that I still very much have to think about), I subvocalise a LOT. when the characters are ones that I think I probably don’t know in either traditional or simplified, or there are a lot of very confusing descriptions, I don’t subvocalise at all, even if I could by phonetic components. I just - vibe. which brings me onto the next part. 

reading traditional - the brain feeling. 

I CANNOT describe how strange it is to read traditional and how wonderful an organ the brain is. it honestly feels like magic. if you’re still reading at this point and I’m not just shouting into the void, you probably know that I can’t handwrite in chinese to save my life - what that means practically for character recognition is that you could ask me to name the components of a character I see 100000 times a day and I couldn’t do it. it’s all subconscious. I have NO memory or understanding of what radicals are used where at the best of times in simplified chinese, and it’s all done via The Vibe. 

this is EVEN stronger in traditional chinese. I have not really ever deliberately learnt or consumed any media in traditional apart from a few characters you commonly see written or appeared when I have done a little bit of Classical chinese, like 馬，為，無 etc. I also got up to about halfway through the hsk1 course on skritter for a while on one of my endless attempts to learn how to write - so that gave me characters like 歡，對，甚麼 and so forth. in total that’s....still not that much. the VIBES I get when reading, though - incredible!!!!! I see these characters (not just ones with components that are predictable in traditional forms, but fairly or very different ones) that I have no memory of ever seeing before in my life and go, oh, that feels vaguely like this one. and then I look it up and I’m right. 

some of these are things of course are not objectively difficult - if you know the two components, you can go, oh, those are the two traditional versions of the components and so stuck together is the traditional character. but since I don’t consciously know the component parts off the top of my head of more than about 12 simplified characters (rip), this feels like utter magic. I have also been guessing quite a lot based on context and radicals.

I also know I probably HAVE seen some of these characters before at some point, I just don’t remember. nevertheless. it feels amazing, especially with the ones that are not predictable and are totally different. it’s a very bizarre experience. the coolest part though is the ability to remember new characters without looking them up or ‘learning’ them - a large majority of the traditional characters I can know recognise have genuinely been learnt over the last three days. if I see them for a second or third time - they’re mine now. and that is very cool and comes with practice and NOT anything innate blah blah because when I first started, I remember looking at characters over 20 times and still not being able to remember if I had even SEEN them before, let alone what they mean. so that ability has improved a huge amount, and I think reading and learning new words within the context of that book is mostly to thank for that. 

(not really relevant to any of the above, but reading in a foreign language is so interesting, because you really notice the vocabulary the author uses again and again and again more than in your native language. for instance, mxtx is constantly saying 这下. also 莞尔 as a word for smile - xie lian is CONSTANTly 莞尔一笑 . those are the two I’ve noticed a lot so far.)

overall then:

there are plenty of individual words I don’t know, but it’s usually clear what they mean in context, and when I know I’m reading a description of someone’s elegant fingers that's all you really need to know. none of it has affected my reading experience enough to make me physically put down the book and open pleco. 

I haven’t needed the dictionary for anything so far that I can’t get from context or memory of what happens. this means that I am Reading It Reading It, as opposed to Pleco Reading It or Kindle Reading It. which feels like a huuuuuuuuge milestone and difference and you know,,,honestly tearing up a little bit!!!!! because it’s so cool and I never thought I’d get here!!!!!! 

----

with all of that in mind, my plan for reading these is just...go from cover to cover with the first volume of tgcf, but let myself - since I know the story - jump around to read and re-read the bits I like reading. I want to get at least through the first two books of tgcf before I try to tackle any of the other books that I have bought. I’m not stopping to learn vocab really without the dictionary as most of it hasn’t been necessary so far and would interrupt the reading flow, but sometimes if there is a word I have seen 238290 times I will. I have only done this a few times, however, so I think for pulling vocab from this book I will have to do it separately - i.e. choose a passage I like and write down all the vaguely useful / fun words I don’t know. 

I have also got mdzs. now. the thing here is that...I love tgcf, but I’m not as precious about it as I am about mdzs. I have also NEVER read mdzs in translation because I have hated all of them so much, so I want the first time I read it to be as smooth as I possibly can, and to get as much impact and beauty and *shakes fist* as I possibly can. so...I might put it off for a while, maybe another 6 months or so whilst I improve my reading and traditional recognition skills. we’ll see. I don’t want to dip into it in the same way, and I feel like I want to use tgcf as training wheels first. we will see!

updates soon!!! big excite!!!!!!

[mamapyjama]

I’ve been rereading the current anime arc in the manga, and finally got to The Apology™️, and I wondered what words Katsuki used before translation.

Disclaimer: I’m sure others must have posted about this before but I couldn’t recall reading it myself. I do remember there was a lot of talk about the way he used “gomen” as the Japanese fandom were saying how cute and childlike it sounded, so I thought I’d see if there was anything else interesting there.

Oh, my sweet sweet baby boy…

So, just before he says ‘Sorry for everything’ (ima made gomen), he says:

言ってどうにかなるもんじゃねェけど

本音だ

出久

“Itte dōnika naru mon ja nē kedo… Honne da…Izuku”

Which in the English translation, gave us:

And “speak my truth” is lovely and all, but the word from the original that stuck out for me was ‘honne’.

I’m not sure how familiar most people are with honne–tatemae (I only know about it because I go way way too in-depth when researching for my fics lol), but it’s a concept that every Japanese person is deeply aware of, and underpins much of their society.

Here’s the Wikipedia intro:

Ohhh, that is some extra juicy context for Kacchan’s speech. Essentially, he is saying that everything up until now has been his tatemae, a public façade to protect his own position (strong, powerful hero etc), but that he can’t keep that up and he wants Izuku to see his honne, his true, private self.

Excuse me while I melt from the cuteness.

But WAIT! There’s more!

How much do you know about second-person pronouns in Japanese? (Nope, this isn’t about ‘kare’ again this time hehe).

You’ve probably noticed in the anime that Kacchan says “Temee” a lot, and you may have also noticed that it tends to get translated as cursing. So it actually just means ‘you,’ but like a really rude way of saying it, such that the only way of reflecting that in English is to replace ‘you’ with something like Bastard or Asshole.

Again, have an expert explain:

This and the below are from a very excellent article about second-person pronouns and how they are used for context and drama in anime specifically. I’d recommend reading it as the context is really interesting!

So although pronouns aren’t actually commonly used or necessary in much spoken Japanese, when they are used, it’s a deliberate way to tell you about the relationship dynamic between two characters.

But why, you may ask, am I talking about pronouns again?!

Because, dear friends, throughout the first half of his speech, Kacchan uses ‘temee’ as usual to describe his past with Izuku. I’ve highlighted it below, and pls also note the shaky speech bubble showing his nerves during the ‘honne’ section. 🥺

HOWEVER, straight after he says he wants Izuku to see his Honne, Katsuki switches pronouns from ‘Temee’ (v rude), to ‘Omae’ (very casual/familiar). Below is the page after the apology.

Considering we now know pronouns are not necessary to convey meaning, that’s a hell of a lot of omaes on one page!! Boy cannot get enough of saying it.

If you want more about the different pronouns, see below for a helpful table of common uses for both. And please indulge my shippy heart for highlighting the second usage (but, like ‘kare’, you never know)…

Katsuki is showing Izuku immediately and repeatedly that this is who he wants to be to him and how he wants the world to see them. His honne, his inner desire, is to be close to Izuku, to treat him as an equal.

He’s not just saying sorry, he’s showing that—at least from his perspective—things are going to be different from now on. But, like, also, that this was how he felt about him in private the whole time?! GAHHHH.

So there you go, the apology that was already a massive turning point in their story/relationship was actually even deeper and more beautiful than we all thought. Yet again, Japanese conveys nuance and intention far beyond what can be translated. 😭💕

[margarethx]

Okay... this might be a controversial opinion, but I find it pretty weird and unrealistic when people write Bucky as if he was this weirdly progressive Gen Z kid who’s entirely up-to-date when it comes to using politically correct terms and phrasing. Like... I don’t want him to just be blatantly offensive and throw some slurs around like it’s nothing. I also don’t want him to do anything bad deliberately or be malicious about it, hiding behind “I was raised like that” excuse. But, from my point of view, it doesn’t make sense for him to be fully understanding of everything that changed since the 1940s... because a lot has changed and he wasn’t given much time to even start processing that.

(It’s even shown in tfatws that he’s not really aware how to behave when the police stops him and Sam in the middle of an argument, so I’m not just making this up about him.)

I kind of wish more people would try to make him at least a little bit... confused. It’s not like being gay was invented in 2007 and many people knew that “racism is bad” long before any huge movements against it started, but living in such bigoted times for the entirety of his youth had to have an effect of him. And I feel like a lot of people who like Bucky are afraid of mentioning this aspect of him, because it would destroy his idealized image. But let’s be real. A man born before women had voting rights in the US would not just wake up in the 21st century and go write essays about the complexities of gender expression.

And I also think that this lack of knowledge would at some point affect his relationship with Sam. Because it’s pretty likely that one day Bucky would just casually use some outdated term that sounds inappropriate for someone more familiar with the current way of speaking. And he might also have some problems with falling in love with another man (let alone a Black one, because Bucky was still stuck in Syberia, or whatever, when the US legalized interracial marriages, so a relationship like this one could never happen in the 1930s for more than one reason).

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

As I always clarify: I do not expect casual fanfiction writers to deal with heavy topics and do a ton of research to make everything realistic and serious. If you want to write about two guys who fall in love and nothing (except for their stupidity) stands in the way... go for it! If you don’t feel like a right person to tackle difficult issues like these it’s even better if you wait a little until you’re more skilled to try or if you stick to lighthearted one-shots about fake dating. These are good too. I love them.

(Also, many people like fanfiction, because it can give you this fake reality, where things like internalized homophobia don’t exist and everything is nice. Sometimes you’re just not in the mood to read about social issues in your romance about fictional people. I’m often not.)

I just think it would be pretty interesting to see a version of Bucky that does not constatnly act like a leftist Twitter user, age sixteen, because I highly doubt Hydra gave him regular updates on progressive vocabulary. (I had over two decades to learn about all of that and I still have huge gaps in my knowledge. Meanwhile, Bucky had maybe two years of barely normal life and I don’t think that being politically correct was at the forefront of his mind. Also: it gets more complicated if you speak multiple languages. Vocabulary differs. I’d know – referring to gender and gender-realted issues in English is nothing alike compared to the language I normally use. There are opinions that seem progressive here, but would look obsolete or weird for Americans.)

To be clear... I don’t mean that Sam should be forced to teach him everything, however, if they’re spending so much time together it would make sense for him to sometimes hear what Bucky’s saying and, jokingly or not, be like: “okay, you shouldn’t say that; they’ll kick you out of Delacroix”. I even believe that something like holding hands with Sam in public and being openly affectionate in front of other people could be an issue for a while, because Bucky’d be too nervous (for reasons explained previously) and they’d need to work through that together.

(Seeing Sam’s behaviour towards Bucky in tfatws I’d assume he’d be reasonably understanding and patient about it, but wouldn’t just let him do and say whatever he wants. Mostly to have a healthy relationship with Bucky, but also because both of them are public figures.)

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

By the way... I’d also love to see more stories where Sam has some issues with, for instance, accepting his sexuality (there are a few reasons why he would struggle with that, for example: his dad being very religious – which is canon in the comics, him being from the South – which is canon in the MCU, him hiding his relationship with Riley in the military – which is canon in my heart, etc.). Or stories where Sam is a little confused about how the language evolved during the Blip and those two years he spent in hiding... But that’s a topic for another discussion.

[redwinterroses]

RIIIIIIIIIGHT SO.

I just finished chapter 13 of Dog At The Door and holy hot cross buns batman if you're not reading this fic you NEED to. It's literally one of the best written fics I have ever read in my life and I've been reading fanfiction for over 15 years, lol.

I went back and reread the entire fic to lead up to chapter 13 and I decided to treat it like I used to treat things I had to read in college so I took notes as I went and please I am warning you this post is incredibly long. Almost 3k words. PLEASE do not hit that "read more" button unless you're good with having to scroll past it all and also spoilers ahead. Proceed with caution.

~*~

Rereading Dog at the Door reactions (spoilers, obviously):

· Doc finding Ren’s body to be cold and for a second thinking he’s actually dead—my heart

· “That’s Ren, alive and kicking.” Oh…no, Doc. No it’s not.

· The first “Where is my hand?” hits different the second time through

· Gah the ice and winter imagery ALL over the place—my English degree brain wants to watch and see if that shifts to warmth at any point as we go? Thoughts for future Red to think.

· It’s fascinating to me to see Doc constantly thrust into the prey role. This is a guy who is very much not that person normally, but something about the Red King is beyond anything he’s really encountered before—or at least not since Dinnerbone—and it pushes him into an entirely new role that he clearly chafes in

· “I should get back to work on your new arm soon,” he says, making a mental note to add claws to the fingertips. Honestly Doc why tho. XD

· “It feels like something Ren would want him to do.” </3

· Side note: I just watched Doc’s freaking hour long shulker farm vid, and that’s making it a lot easier to hear his voice in this fic

· I’m more curious about the hand.” New Ren laughs a bit at his own words, as though there’s something funny about that phrasing. I MISSED THIS LINE THE FIRST TIME THROUGH

· The bead curtain being cursed hippie treasure XD

· The fact that Doc just so quickly accepts that Ren is gone—maybe not permanently, but at least for now—is kind of heartbreaking. Because you know he hasn’t really accepted it, he’s just… deciding not to feel anything about it. Just nod and move on and pretend you don’t need to stop and cope with the possible/probable death of your best friend and the fact that Someone Else is wearing his skin. That’s so sad.

· “high-fiving the finished hand with his own metal hand.” Aww… Doccy.

· “He shoos away the images of New Ren holding him up by the throat supervillain-style and turns around.” Hmmmmmmm want that fanart. Scary New Ren/RK is good stuff. (post-chapter-13 Red popping in with a WHAT THE HECK)

· “that makes him seem like a ghost in Ren’s body.” YA KNOW. LIKE HE IS.

· Okay side note time: why is the Red King here? Ya know? Like – in 3rdLife the idea of a possessing spirit of bloodlust makes some sense. But why stick around? Was RK trying to escape the 3L server, or was this not deliberate? At what point did he take over from Ren—at Black Heart Altar? In which case, was the whole idea Ren’s to begin with, or was he influenced? Maybe it happened the first time Ren died? The Red King took over then—or at least started to? Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts, thoughts…

· Wait more theories—what if RK is connected to the ????? entity that spoke to Martyn when he died? In which case, cMartyn said he was considering making that canonically a Watcher (he ended up not doing it, but he also didn’t do anything that contradicted it either). I’m not saying RK is a Watcher… but boy he sure does stare a lot, don’t he.

· Holding the screwdriver like a dagger—mmmm

· Okay funny thought: all this frost, RK’s gonna need to be real careful about rust lol. And straining the metal, tbh, all that freezing and thawing is going to have an effect but the rust idea is making me laugh

· Until I realized it would look like blood and it’s not funny anymore

· “Renbob is in the beanbag stuffed next to the driver’s seat” right so is this where Renbob sleeps because I have been wondering—

· “something about having two people look like Ren when neither of them are makes Doc stop to take a shaky breath” *sob*

· “Renbob clears his throat, looking up at Doc with a smile that is so obviously fake that it hurts.” Ugh the LOT of you stop repressing everything you’ll give yourselves a collective hernia

· “he’ll probably have to break the news to the other hermits, too, Iskall and False and all the others.” All these painful lines I somehow missed the first time through

· Awww warm air comes in when Renbob opens the door—with the flowers and everything, Renbob is so easily associated with spring, I love this contrast.

· Aaand there it is, yup, RK is shocked to see his face on Renbob, and Renbob is shocked to see that this is so clearly Not Ren.

· They both recover pretty quickly, though. Survivors, both of them.

· RK calls Renbob their “ferryman” and I’m not sure if I was supposed to get “crossing the river Styx” vibes from that But I Did. (does RK think he’s dead? That they’re all dead?) (post-chapter-13 Red here with a little bit of wordless screaming.) (and also a bit of pride that I picked up on this.)

· “And what a help you’ve been! Fixing me up, replacing my hand.” Hi yes, 911? there’s a dagger stabbed into my feels.

· “he’d rather remember rage than see another person’s heart break.” Dang that’s such a raw line. Oof.

· ”the Red King says, his voice hoarse with tears.” Really interesting that this blood deity can feel such emotions—like, anger or even fear, I can get. But to see this entity upset to the point of tears is fascinating.

· “There is a crown on Doc’s workbench.” Right, yeah so like—is RK unwillingly manifesting these artifacts? Because that’s wild, man. …how long before he manifests an “enchanter”?

· “I’ve never seen it [the crown] clean before.” Okay that definitely implies that maybe RK didn’t come around until after Black Heart Altar?

· “The Red King has the crown in his lap when Doc turns back around, claws gently tracing over the engravings, leaving frost patterns behind.” I really wish I had art skills because there’s this image in my head of a drawing of the crown held in RK’s hands, with his face (one eye glowing, one in shadow) reflected in the surface, and frost patterns following behind a claw that’s daintily tracing the surface. But I can’t draw so—

· RK asks for a change of clothes. What was he wearing when they rescued him, I wonder? The Red King outfit with the fur capelet? Or Ren’s Stargazer outfit? Which begs the question: where does Stargazer fit into all this? Was Ren’s return to Hermitcraft RK free, but when he came so close to dying to Sith, RK found that as a gateway to take over? (Post-13 Red here, Looking Intently at this note.)

· Awww… the image of a one-legged RK clutching new clothes to his chest and hopping down to change in the bathroom… That’s weirdly endearing. He’s less menacing when he stands up somehow. Less lurking, maybe.

· Oooohhhhh he messed up his back sleeping on the floor. Gotcha.

· Doc keeps telling himself (and RK) that saving him and working on these parts is “the right thing to do” and while he’s not WRONG I just want to see him realize that it’s not only the right thing, it’s realistically the only thing, because if he didn’t, then he’d have to deal with the fact that he’s lost his best friend and we can’t have that.

· “I don’t need to eat” ummmmmm no hold on this definitely implies that RK is possessing a dead body and I’m not okay with that where is Ren

· LOLOL “I can’t stand to see [you do] this” is such a raw line to be about watching Doc eat cereal with his hands

· “The voice doesn’t belong to who he thinks it does.” Ugh, Doc. This isn’t the first time he’s lost a close friend to Something Else, something otherworldly.

· “All of them are waiting for him, waiting for him to do something more, something better—” aaand there it is. Doc’s characterization in this fic in a single sentence.

· Doc waking up and thinking he’s seeing Ren and RK’s hesitation and the gentle “I’m not Ren”—OH MY HEART

· RK’s coffee = Renbob’s friendship bracelets

· Randomly can I just say that I love how RK’s dialog is all in italics? It concerned me at first because I thought it was going to keep pulling me out of the narrative, but instead it really just feels right. Also I’m looking forward to the moment when he says something and it’s not in italics because it’s REN and oh my lands please give this to me I beg you (post-13 Red here with a bit more mindless screaming)

· “watch your tongue with me, Atlas, because I’m the one person you can pass the sky to.” Okay okay okay—English studies brain coming out. This suggests that there is a burden RK and Doc can share: something Doc is currently struggling against that only RK can help him with. In the moment, I don’t know if this is really fair of RK to say—after all, Doc does technically have Renbob too, if we’re just talking about Doc’s unhealthy coping mechanisms. In fact, if that’s the context, then Renbob is a much better fellow-Atlas because he and Doc have known each other much longer and they’re both dealing with the loss of Ren. BUT, knowing about the upcoming conversation where Doc and RK both realize that they’ve lost someone (Ren for Doc, Martyn for RK) this line suddenly has a lot more weight. Again, I don’t think that in that moment RK quite has the right to pull this zinger. But in later context, it turns out to be true after all. They are the only two with this particular shared pain.

· Doc upset with himself because he can’t get over his “stupid hang-ups” DOC MY LAD. “I’ve lost my best friend, you’re in his body, and I don’t know how to process any of these emotions” is not a “stupid hang-up” PLEASE stop blaming yourself for everything!?

· “I’m so tired” in the middle of his nightmare—oh my gosh. That hurts so much for some reason.

· I also very much wish I had the ability to draw the image of Doc with tears on his face, staring dead-eyed down at his workbench while RK looms over from behind, pinning his wrists to the table with one metal arm and one frost-bitten one, a look of exasperation and concern on his face. Why can’t I draw the things

· “How do you know Etho” “I watched him die.” OW ow ow ow ow

· Doc takes this as calmly as only someone used to living in a world where death has low consequences can. Oh. Oh—that means… huh. Doc isn’t used to losing people permanently on any basis, especially not death. So no wonder he doesn’t know how to process Ren being gone (I can’t bear to write “dead” there). He literally doesn’t have context for it… and what context he DOES have is like—I mean, Etho and Bdubs came back. Ouch.

· “Twenty-five.” The Red King makes the number sound like a threat. Yet another banger line I missed the first time through. Imagine waking up and thinking you’re in 3rd Life again but instead of 14 players there’s almost twice that many and you think you don’t know any of them.

· I still don’t quite understand the “when was etho added/should have known there was something different” bit or why RK is so emotional about it… but I have trust that it’ll make sense at some point. (post-13 Red: ...is this something about the fact that he thinks he's dead...so he thinks Etho has died before? Like, that 3rd Life wasn't Etho's first hardcore? ...I feel like I'm almost grasping this but I'm missing an element somewhere.)

· And now a sword. RK. My man. You need to stop manifesting things—especially when they scare the ever-living daylights out of you.

· I absolutely adore the in-universe lore that Fire Aspect is a PvP enchantment because it threatens dropped loot, and yeah I very well might steal that. (Along with something I read at one point who-even-knows-where that Knockback is a coward’s enchantment, because I love that too.)

· He really shouldn’t. / Doc picks up the sword by the scabbard and hands it to him, hilt extended. Doc you already trust this guy so much and you don’t even know it—but is it just because you still subconsciously trust the face he wears? Or is it something deeper?

· Ugh, the “I was supposed to kill someone for him” conversation/scene is SO FREAKING GOOD

· “I don’t want it. Not like the crown.” Why, though? Why doesn’t he want it? Because it’s more to do with death than kingship? OH. Oh, I hadn’t even considered that. I’ve been thinking of RK as this like, god of blood and vengeance but maybe he’s not. Maybe he hates the bloodshed (“the blood! It’s drippin’ in me eyes… I’ve been blinded by the violence…”) just as much—more?—than Ren did/would have. Huh. That’s a new facet.

· Oh my heart the “have you ever lost someone and it was your fault” line. Dagger to the feels. Dagger to the feels.

· This like… “I’m on a roll and even though I know I should stop I really don’t want to” mode? Man. That’s relatable. Especially when you’re working to avoid dealing with something else.

· “Not making it for you—it’s for Ren” oh ouch ouch ouch the denial suddenly breaks through it’s okay, Doc I’m with you on this

· The second time reading through it’s far clearer that Doc has a blind panic attack here—when he starts rambling that Ren’s coming back, he’ll be there for season eight and RK goes to…do whatever he was going to do and Doc just blanks out. The manic productivity should have been a warning sign, the poor guy is crumbling.

· “Doctor” and “he’s not sure he deserves that title right now” UGH Doc needs a hug someone please hug him and tell him it’s all going to be okay. Someone please hug me and tell me it’s all going to be okay.

· “his hand on his throat” over the scar from the Red Winter axe? </3

· “I did do that. I have done that.” RK admitting to it actually having been him in Doc’s nightmares?

· Okay sorry the conversation about beating Dinnerbone will never not be funny to me

· RK mentions that people used to call him m’lord or Ren, and then mere minutes later you have “Ren. You couldn’t save him because of me, could you?” He knows exactly what’s going on here. Not maliciously, but he’s no dense-head, he’s put the pieces together. (post-13 Red: MOST of the pieces. Most of them.)

· Watching Doc slowly stop fighting his nightmares—like, the first time, he fights. The second time, he accepts it but still struggles. And this time… this time he gives up before it even starts. That hurts, man.

· Good grief the whole “get my head chopped off” / “you really don’t want that” bit. O.O I’m not sure what emotion I’m feeling but I’m Feeling An Emotion.

· “Snow’s new. Dream’s not.” </3

· …Doc’s not gonna be a fan of snowier-snow after this trip…

· "Dr. M77" Actually he’s Doc Monster, RK, but we’ll let it go. XD

· OKAY BUT THIS EXCHANGE? The “how are you feeling” / “better” / “you’re a bad liar” / “I said better not great” that’s such a good exchange and I don’t know why every other time I’ve ever seen it used they stop at the lying accusation? Doc with the snappy comebacks, man.

· Aaah, Doc and RK, two establishment bros bonding over a shared disdain for hippies.

· The bit about the fella who wore an iron helmet and called it a powdered wig—fear is in my heart. *shoves Scar into an obsidian box and blocks it closed*

· “Who was Ren to you?” </3

· Doc is more than willing to spread the flames, to sear his loss into RK’s bones. / The king’s face stops him. Ren’s face stops him. Holy CRAP is that a good set of lines. So much going on there, and ALL of it good.

· Again. I wish I could draw. I would draw RK sitting on the edge of the bed, gently hugging a collapsed-in-on-himself Doc. </3

· “And I hate the devil that forced us apart, that mixed my blood with his.” *adds another layer to Scar’s obsidian fort*

· OKAY STARTING CHAPTER THIRTEEN I made the mistake of logging into Tumblr earlier and saw people screaming so I’m sure I’m not ready for this but here we go

· Oh no RK has been hippie-ified

· “You started a paramilitary organization because you have hay fever?” *dies laughing*

· Ugh I need to go back and watch s6 I’ve only seen the tail end of Mumbo’s side of things and there’s so much I don’t know.

· HAHAHAHAH I do know the trident bit though—

· Wait he said Scar

· PANIC

· “Kingslayer. bloodthirsty. Time King. The coward. And the mastermind behind it all, the loyal soldier to the very end, the whole damn reason either of us are in this mess.”

· HOLY CRAP HOLY CRAP HOLY—

· “Is this the afterlife I deserve? After everything, this is the hell I’m going to endure?” I AM SCREAMING

· Doc pinned to the wall with ice, struggling to breathe—I CAN’T WHAT IS HAPPENING

· ((You know I’d get through this a lot faster if I stopped pausing to write reactions—))

· “A break in the ice. A whisper of spring.” Symbolism. Symbolism.

· “Ren was dead when I found him again,” NO I REFUSE TO READ THIS

· “don’t use the hand I built you to hurt yourself” DOC. SIR. MY HEART.

· RK don't run, RK get back here—what are you—

·

·

· I

· JUST

· ACTUALLY

· SCREAMED

· AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

· *several long moments of just breathing*

·

·

·

· *rereads*

· Holy crap on a garbage cracker with an extra serving of what-the-heck sauce

· REN

· REN

· Okay lol okay hahaha calming down

· I literally threw myself back in my chair away from the computer reading that last paragraph. I don't usually... physically react to things I read. LOL. Heh. I’m. Ah. I’m not emotionally invested in this or anything.

· Holy crap.

· Okay. Okay. Okay.

· Um.

· Great chapter, guys. Awesome stuff. Really good. I’m absolutely okay right now and it’s all totally fine.

· …please enjoy your break and get lots of rest and I very much look forward to the return of this fic you have no idea.

· I need to go breathe for a little bit.

EDIT: no, you know what--I'm not going to be a nice polite fangirl over here and quietly hope y'all see this I'm straight up tagging you, @fluffy-papaya and @betweenlands. THANK YOU but also how dare.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Sky Date - Prologue

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date prologue, 云霄之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Do note that you have to read this before embarking on the actual date, because it contains background information and sweet domestic bliss you wouldn't want to miss :>

[ This date was released on 14 April 2021 ]

[ Part One: A Dream About to Take Flight ]

MC: Ahhh! My life is up to me. Not. Up. To. Fate!

The small dice in my furled hand is tossed around several times. When I loosen my grip, it rolls quickly on the map -- ‘2′.

Gavin: Hahaha--

Gavin laughs, but hurriedly retracts his smile when he senses my murderous gaze.

Gavin: It’s okay, things will definitely take a favourable turn in the next round.

Sulky, I let out of a huff. I watch as he picks up the dice, casually rolling a '5′. Then, he cheerfully shifts his own plane on the map by six spaces.

[Note] In the game of Aeroplane Chess, your plane can only leave the starting point if you roll a ‘5′ of ‘6′!

MC: ...

It’s a Saturday afternoon. Gavin and I had nothing to do after eating, so we randomly grabbed a set of Aeroplane Chess from the supermarket to play. But I didn’t expect to have such a terrible gaming experience!

Although it’s been the sixth or seventh round, I just can’t the ‘6′ I need to get my plane out of the hangar. On the other hand, Gavin has always been able to get it to take flight smoothly, and very quickly reaches the goal.

MC: Gavin, with your kind of luck, there’s no need to waste it on playing games with me.

After pondering for a long while, I offer him a serious suggestion.

MC: Let’s head out to buy a lottery ticket?

Gavin: Why don’t we play something else? The paper model from last time was only half done. Since we have time today, we could get it done at one go.

At this moment, the phone on the floor beside me rings. Seeing the familiar number, I tap on the hands-free function.

Nurse: Miss MC, the physical report done at our hospital is ready. Please bring your receipt and collect it within fifteen working days.

MC: Mm, got it, thank you.

Gavin is currently storing the Aeroplane Chess pieces into the box. Hearing this conversation, he gives me a puzzled look.

Gavin: Haven’t you already gone for a physical examination this year? Are you feeling unwell?

MC: No, no. I’m using the report for the registration.

I deliberately pretend to be secretive, leaning towards him. Then, I show him the registration form that I had submitted online beforehand.

MC: I’m going to get a Private Pilot License.

-

[ Part Two: First Day of School ]

On the first day of aviation training, I set the alarm to wake me up at 6.30am. Even Gavin is stunned at the level of enthusiasm I have for learning.

Gavin: The courses for the aviation license can get pretty dry. You have to be mentally prepared.

MC: Are you referring to things like meteorology, aircraft structure, air traffic regulations?

Gavin: Mm. Aside from the exams, such knowledge is necessary for aircraft pilots.

While he speaks, he lifts his head to give me a smile.

Gavin: But they definitely won’t stump you.

After packing my things, I grab a random jacket and prepare to leave.

The classes take place in the suburbs, and it takes an hour to get there. Despite waking up early, I’d be late if I don’t hurry up.

But Gavin is clearly not too worried about this matter. He holds a slice of bread in his mouth while looking at his phone.

Gavin: Since I’m sending you there, you won’t be late. Before your first official lesson, I’ll give you a flight class.

I walk over to him, pulling up the zipper of his uniform, and also picking up the motorcycle helmet from the table.

MC: To prevent this from being a mere flash in the pan, I want to leave the joy of flight to the end of the course. But if going by land would make me late...

Gavin rolls the bread into his mouth, taking the helmet from my hand.

Gavin: No matter the route, you won’t be late. Oh yes, what class are you taking today?

-

[ Part Two, Option 1: Principles of Meteorology ]

Instructor: I’ll ask some small questions to test your foundation and see if you take note of knowledge in this area.

He opens the PowerPoint presentation, then uses a laser pointer to point at the image on the first page - it's a cumulus cloud with a flat bottom layer and a high, upward curve at the top.

Instructor: Does anyone know what this cloud is called?

MC: Cumulus congestus cloud.

Instructor: Correct. The next question - when the International Civil Aviation Organisation observes cloud volume, how many segments do they divide the sky into?

MC: It should be eight segments.

I recall that Gavin brought this up before.

Instructor: Not bad, miss. You did preparatory work beforehand, didn’t you?

MC: No no, I have a friend who has a better understanding in this area, so I was just influenced.

After saying this, chuckles drift from the surroundings. The instructor nods in understanding.

Instructor: In that case, you won’t have a problem during the exams.

MC: ...I’ll do my best.

After all, my confidence is limited when it comes to exams.

Just as I’m thinking about this, I receive a notification on my phone. Gavin has sent me an incredibly large document file.

Gavin: I don’t know how to teach, so I compiled some materials you might need for the exam.

I grip my phone, suddenly feeling like the weather is so good that it makes one carefree and relaxed.

It’s just an exam. I’ll definitely be fine.

-

[ Part Two, Option 2: Aviation Regulations Class ]

At 2pm in the afternoon, the sun shines from above. I had a full meal, so fighting against the sleeping bug is a difficult challenge.

Instructor: Before the flight, the captain has to carry out the necessary inspections of the aircraft. Until the inspections are complete, you can’t take off. This regulation is easy to understand. In fact...

When the dullness of the course matches how fine the weather is, the entire classroom gets immersed in a drowsy atmosphere.

I take a few deep breaths and pat my face... but I still feel like sleeping.

Instructor: Okay, we’ll take a 10 minute break. You students look sleepy, so go wash your faces to freshen up.

The moment he finishes speaking, the sound of heads plopping down on the tables can be heard all around.

Just as I prepare to stand up and stretch, my phone suddenly vibrates.

Delivery boy: Hello, I’ve placed your take-out at the main counter.

MC: Take-out?

But I didn’t order take-out...

While I’m puzzled, the young lady from the main counter very politely brings the item to the classroom - it’s a cup of coffee.

There’s only one simple line on the note of the take-out: Persevere for a little longer. Gavin.

I retrieve the coffee from the bag, taking a tiny slip. The instructor walks past, giving me a glance from the side.

Instructor: Are you drinking coffee or milk tea? You’re smiling so happily.

MC: Being able to swim in the ocean of knowledge is always meant to be a happy thing.

The instructor gives me an expression which says, “like I’d actually believe you”.

MC: Instructor, let’s continue with the lesson. I’m not drowsy anymore. Learning for another four hours is no problem at all!

-

[ Part Three: Being Your Co-pilot ]

Gavin: Do you want to head out for a stroll after dinner? It seems to be really cooling outside.

I’m currently taking out plates from the kitchen drawer, subconsciously craning my head to glance outside.

MC: It’s going to rain, isn’t it...

Gavin: Really? I’ll check the weather forecast. Earlier in the afternoon, Eli mentioned taking out some time to wash his car at night. I even thought today would be a good day.

I step into the living room, setting down plates on the dining table. 

MC: There are just some cumulonimbus clouds in the sky. It might not really rain.

Gavin scrolls through the real-time weather, then gives me a smile.

Gavin: It’s really going to rain.

He gets up, opening the rice cooker and scooping a full bowl of rice for me.

Gavin: At first, I even thought you’d find such theoretical knowledge boring. I didn’t think you’d learn them so earnestly. Looks like you really want to get the license.

MC: Of course. I want to be your co-pilot.

Although Gavin hasn’t even scooped rice for himself, he’s already served me a huge pile of vegetables.

Gavin: Sure. I’ll wait for the day you get your license.

Just as I’m about to talk about how assured I am about getting the license, I realise that the plate on my hand is becoming fuller and fuller. 

Before I can even voice my question, Gavin responds.

Gavin: Learning is tough. You need to eat a little more. I also bought you ice-cream. It’s in the second compartment of the freezer. I remember you mentioning that as long as you eat something delicious during difficult times, you can press on easily.

MC: ...hahaha! Mm! After having this meal, I’ll complete all my post-class homework!

-

[ Aviation Terminology Class ]

MC: Calling for the control tower. Number N8596 has arrived, and is requesting for a landing gate.

Gavin (through the phone): Number N8596, you may use aircraft Gate Number One.

Gavin’s light-hearted laughter drifts from the phone.

Gavin: Shouldn’t your class end at 7pm? It’s only 6pm.

MC: The plan was to be dismissed at 7pm, but... for some reason, those in my class were really interested in the Aviation Terminology class, so they did their preparatory work in advance. The three hour class was over in one and a half hours. The instructor said that we already grasped all the key points, so we were dismissed early. What about you? How much longer till you’re off work?

Gavin: For me... less than half an hour. You could think about what to do with this unexpectedly free hour. I remember that there’s a new dessert shop opposite the cinema.

MC: You remembered? I never even told you about it. How could you remember? Officer Gavin, you better tell me the truth. You didn’t remember it - you specially searched it up.

Gavin: Mm, I specially searched it up. I even found that there are claw machines along the shopping street on the ground level of the cinema. 

MC: Looks like what I’m going to do in the next hour has already been scheduled. 

Gavin: Wait for me at the office first. I’ll look for you once I’m done with the work on hand.

-

[ Part Four: Flight Practice ]

Today’s the first flight practice class. The instructor is sitting in the co-pilot seat, watching my every move throughout the entire journey.

I wasn't nervous at first, but each time he glances at me, I involuntary wonder if I’ve done something wrong.

In an instant, I recall the fear of taking the aviation exam...

Until the plane successfully takes flight, I keep feeling as though the thing suspending in the air isn’t the plane, but my heart.

Instructor: It’s rare for you to make a trip up here. What’s there to be nervous about? Come, lift your head and look at the sky.

At this moment, countless gripes flash across my mind: What’s so nice about the sky? I’ve seen all kinds of skies. Right now, all I want is to fly the plane...

But the moment I lift my head, I’m rendered speechless.

Instructor: How is it? The first time I saw it, I was so stunned that I couldn't speak either.

MC: It’s really beautiful.

Sunlight casts a layer of golden hue on the soft and white clouds, blending the colours of gold and crimson.

I’m unable to describe how the scenery before me makes me feel. 

It’s a feeling which... makes one feel that life has meaning.

All of a sudden, another thought surfaces in my mind: I wonder what went through Gavin’s mind when he saw such a sight for the first time.

The instructor sitting next to me glances at me from the side.

Instructor: Thinking about your boyfriend again?

MC: [blushing] ...no!

Instructor: It’s normal. Each time I’m flying, I can’t help but think of my wife. There isn’t a reason to it. It’s just a sudden thought, an involuntary reaction.

The instructor laughs as he gives me advice with a contagious smile.

Instructor: If you’re thinking about him, just do it. It’s fine. It’s a normal thing. When you see certain things, your natural reaction is to think of someone.

MC: ...Instructor, I usually can’t tell, but you’re actually quite philosophical.

I grab the joystick of the plane, watching as countless clouds drift past leisurely.

All I want to do is take a photograph of this moment for Gavin.

Date: here

-

Gavin watching as I drool over the thought of Eli scrubbing his car in the rain while wearing a singlet:

[show-choir-gal]

How You Two Meet - Dead Poets Society Preference

Masterlist of Masterlists

Guide: Y/N: Your Name Y/F/N: Your First Name Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Warnings: Mentions of death in Gerard's

Neil Perry: You met when you both auditioned for a play at a community theatre Audition day has arrived, but Neil was more nervous than ever. The boys accompanied him into the theatre just in case something were to go wrong. Neil was reading over the audition lines, which come from Romeo and Juliet. The boys were really hyping Neil up in the back of the theatre until an older man came up on stage and got everyone's attention. "Attention everyone. Thank you for coming out for the auditions for Antony and Cleopatra. I truly believe we will have a wonderful cast for such a great Shakespearean tragedy. Ladies, please hand my assistant your paperwork and line up for your audition. You will perform your monologue onstage by yourself and then you will exit and take a seat. We will have a brief break and then begin with the men. Break a leg." He said as he exited the stage and sat in his seat next to the assistant he mentioned previously. One after the other, girls performed their monologues and the boys gawked. But then you got onstage and the group of boys just stopped dead in their tracks. "Hello, I am Y/F/N Y/L/N and I will be auditioning for Cleopatra." You performed your monologue of Juliet II ii 85 with all the passion and strive you could muster. Once you finished you had a standing ovation. You bowed and sat next to a girl you befriended at the audition. The girl auditions finished up and you all went on a brief break so the boys could prepare. "Neil, if you don't go after her, I will" Charlie said cheekily as he elbowed his friend. "That was the most beautiful and talented girl I have ever seen." Neil said as he looked in your direction across the room. It was soon the boys turn and one by one they went across the stage and performed, and then appeared Neil. "I'm Neil Perry and I will be auditioning for Antony." He performed his heart out, reciting Romeo III iii 33. He sat down right behind you. When all the auditions were officially over, the director came on the stage once more, "Brava ladies and gentlemen. Those were some amazing auditions and my assistant and I will have a hard time deciding the roles. This can take up to an hour so just be prepared. You were all amazing but remember that we have to make decisions. See you all in an hour or so."Just as the director and assistant left to deliberate on the casting, Neil turned towards his group of friends who were all enthusiastically giving him 'thumbs ups'. Neil smiled and turned back around. Suddenly you turned to the boy behind you. "Neil, is it?" "Uh, yeah I'm Neil. And you're Y/F/N, right?" "Yup! I wanted to let you know you were amazing up there! I was really invested. You have a promising career as an actor, I can't wait to work with you." You said with a smile as you turned back to the girl next to you and started chatting up a storm. Neil's heart melted at the thought of just simply being around you.

Todd Anderson: You were chilling in Mr.Keating's classroom because he's your dad You were sitting in a desk in the middle of your dads classroom, discussing some novels and plays before his students showed up for the class. You and your dad were discussing the interesting aspects tagged along with Franz Kafka's "The Metamorphosis" when you were suddenly interrupted by a few boys entering the room. "Don't mind them, they like to come early." Your dad said as he waved the boys into the classroom with a smile. "How was Death of A Salesman, Mr.Keating?" Neil asked, knowing he went to see the play over the weekend. "Oh magnificent Mr.Perry. I do wish I could've brought you boys with me but I had some great company with me either way." Your dad as he shot you a smile. "Oh did you bring a lady friend with you?" Knox asked but as soon as those rolled off his tongue you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "We keep forgetting about this doll in Todd's seat. Who are you darling?" Charlie asked as he looked from Todd to you and winked. Your dad chimed in before you could get a word in, "That is Y/N. She's my daughter. We actually saw the show together." Charlie blushed and leaned back in his seat, trying and failing to make himself seem smaller. "Sweetheart, I know you had some rather bold opinions of the play. Also you can sit in the front so poor Mr.Anderson can sit down." Your dad said as he motioned to a desk near his desk. You looked back at Todd who was staring, he turned and blushed as your rose from the seat you were just occupying. "I am so sorry Todd." You replied as you got up and moved seats. Todd quickly sat down but started to stare again as you began to explain how you felt about the play you had seen with your father.

Charlie Dalton: Select girls are allowed to attend Welton, and you were chosen and played in the schools orchestra Welton was known for only letting in some of the best, and when they were letting up to 10 girls into the school for the very first time, your parents did not hesitate to make sure you got one of those spots. Top of your class, president and captain of several clubs and teams, and first chair in the saxophone section with several professional orchestras vying for your skill made Mr.Nolan not even hesitate to welcome you to the school. You walked into your first class of the day. which was English, with your bag on your back and your saxophone case in your hand. You walked in and everyone turned around and stared at you in awe. "Miss Y/L/N, I was wondering when you would be joining us! You can take the empty seat next to Mr.Dalton and tell us a little about yourself." Mr.Keating said with a smile as you made your way to the empty seat. "I'm Y/N, I transferred from a boarding school about an hour away from here. I am top of my class and I play first chair saxophone." "That's brilliant! I love seeing a bright, young mind in my presence. I see you have your instrument with you, would you liked to play something for us?" "Uhm, yeah I would love to." You replied with a smile as you took out your saxophone and assembled it and tuned it. "This is Flight of the Bumblebee, one of the most difficult songs to play on any instrument." "Do you need someone to hold your music?" Charlie asked, rather enthusiastically. "No thank you, I actually have the piece memorised." Charlie looked sad but immediately perked up when you started to play. You were so engrossed by playing you you didn't notice Charlie making heart eyes and melting as he stared at the beauty in front of him.

Steven Meeks: You're staying your uncle Keating at Welton for the year as a foreign exchange student You and Keating just finished the meeting with Mr.Nolan about the terms and conditions about your stay. It was early in the morning and Keating offered to make you a cup of tea before classes were supposed to start, you agreed and stayed in Keating's classroom. It was supposed to be about another 45 minutes before classes began, so you popped a Beatles album into the record player and was just sitting at Keating's desk and absorbed the atmosphere of an American classroom. You were reading "Catcher in the Rye" as you waited for you uncle to come back to the classroom. You heard some robust laughter come closer to the room and you recognised it as your uncles but there were other voices you didn't recognise. You looked up from the book as soon as the laughter was in the classroom. Your uncle entered with two students by his side, he gave you your cup of tea and looked at the boys. "Mr.Pitts and Mr.Meeks, this is my niece Y/F/N. She's an exchange student from England this year. Can you boys help her around during the day so she doesn't get too lost?" Keating asked with a smile. Both boys were starstruck by the girl in front of them, but Steven was falling in love by the moment. Gerard snapped out of the fit first and elbowed Steven to get his attention back to the real world. "Of course I can Mr.Keating." Steven stumbled out, Gerard just facepalmed as you looked at your uncle and both of you chuckled. Steven finally noticed the music playing, and he may not listen to music all that often but he didn't recognise. "I really like this song, who sings it?" Steven asked shyly. Your eyes went wide open and your mouth went agape, "Do they not have The Beatles here in the States?! Let me show you them, they're AMAZING!" You grabbed Steven's hand and led him over to the record player. Keating looked at you two and back at Gerard with a smile, knowing that look better than any poet he's ever researched.

Richard Cameron: You two competed against one another several times during debate competitions First debate competition of the year was in a few hours. The two teams were in the respective classrooms preparing for the competition ahead. You had to go use the restroom so you excused yourself and walked over to where the restroom was located. You bumped into someone as you rounded the corner. "I am so sorry, I didn't see you there. Are you okay?" The boy asked. "Yeah I'm perfectly fine, just got a little spooked." You replied with a smile as you made eye contact with the boy in front of you, you blushed. He stuck his hand out with a smile, "Richard Cameron, Welton Academy." You returned the smile and took his hand, "Y/F/N Y/L/N, Hamilton Academy. I look forward to seeing you on the debate court." You shook his hand as you winked and walked toward the bathroom.

Knox Overstreet: You tutor his sister back at home Knox was coming home today, his parents told you that before they left to pick him up and bring him home. You were tutoring his younger sister in English and geography. She wasn't bad by any means, but her parents always believed she could do better. You never pushed her too far because she would always reiterate that she is doing the very best she can. You knew how it was to be pushed passed your breaking point and you would never want to do that to a student you tutor. You two took a break and the front door flung open and the sound of teenage boy filled the hallway. He immediately went upstairs and put his stuff away as his parents came into the kitchen to ask how their daughter was doing. In the middle of the conversation Knox came into the kitchen as well. He immediately stopped in his tracks as he made eye contact with you, you blushed as soon as he smiled. "My my, Knox Overstreet, I hadn't seen you since you started attending Welton. You look dashing if I may say so, growing into a fine young man." You said with a smile. "Wow Y/F/N, you look beautiful yourself. Going to be an amazing woman one day." He said as blushed back at you. "Maybe, Y/N, if you're not too busy you could tutor Knox as well. Make sure he doesn't lose his muster during break." His father chimed in. His sister came in unexpectedly and said, "I think he just needs a tutor in general, I'm pretty sure I'm smarter than him." This earned a chuckle from everyone and a blush from Knox and you shot an empathetic glance his way

Gerard Pitts: You met when you were forced to attend Welton by your father, Mr.Nolan, because your grades were slipping "You are attending Welton and that is final, young lady." Your father practically spat at you. You got up in a huff as he escorted you to your English class. "Mr.Nolan, what brings you in here for today?" Mr.Keating asked with his usual smile. He practically shoved you into the classroom, "This is my daughter Y/N. She's going to be attending here because her grades slipped too low for my standards elsewhere. Don't go easy on her." Mr.Keating shot you an empathetic glance, "You may sit next to Mr.Pitts. And rest assured Mr.Nolan, I will help whip her into shape in no time." Mr.Keating motioned to the empty chair with a smile. You walked to the empty seat and sat down. Gerard could not take his eyes off you. Mr.Keating had everyone work on a poem as he came over to your desk to ask you if everything was alright. Gerard was tuning in. "I don't know anymore My mum didn't even want me to come here. I got one C because my friend passed away and suddenly it's the end of the world for my father. You'd think he would care a little more since I'm his only child, you know?" You ranted, letting a single tear roll down your face. Gerard immediately noticed and got a tissue and gave it to you. "Thank you that was really sweet." You said with a shy smile. "Well, I can't let a pretty girl cry when I'm around." He said with a smile filled with empathy.

[hcrringtonshair]

Preference No.1

How You Met

Including: Bucky, Natasha, Sam, Steve, Thor & Wanda

Warnings: none, just fluff everywhere :)

A/n: This is my first preference. Please be kind, I’m not so confident about my english in this (I checked the translation five times) I would love to hear what you think about it! You can also write me what do you want to read next :)

Masterlist

Bucky

You've seen him nearly every day in your favorite coffee shop in Manhattan before and like him, you were always on your own. He had also noticed you many times and always smiled friendly when he entered the café. 

You never expected him to stand at your table one afternoon with two cups in his hands. 

 "Hi, I saw that your cup was empty… And I thought you might want another coffee." A touch of red could be seen on his cheeks when you looked at him in surprise. His blue eyes glowed when you smiled. 

"Thank you. But that wouldn't have been necessary." You picked up the cup, you felt the blood poured into your cheeks. “May I sit down?” “Oh, yes, of course, excuse me” You hastily took your bag off the other chair and nervously removed a few strands of hair from your face. 

 "I'm Bucky." “Y/n nice to meet you.”

Natasha

It was a pretty hot summer and everyone was on their way to the coast. Besides, it was summer holidays and you spent your two weeks of free time there as well. Only on your own you booked a suite in a hotel at the beach to have some time on your own. At 32 degrees you made your way to the pool. After a few hours and drinks later you noticed a woman next to you. She was sitting there completely silent and calm in black clothes.

"Aren’t you sweating?" Amazed you took off your sunglasses, staring at the red haired woman. She looked at you with a little smile on her lips. "Yes, but I'm here for work, besides, bikinis haven't been my favorite garments for some time." With a confused nod, you took note of her answer when an employee of the hotel passed by. "Anyways, can I buy you something cold to drink?" 

Minutes later, you both had a glass in your hand, she had water, and you had a colorful cocktail in your hands. She didn't talk much about her work, but told a little about herself after talking about your vacation. In the end, a look at the clock was the reason for her to get up.

"I have to go," she stroked her clothes smoothly and her red hair swirled through the light wind, "can I return the favor with a drink tonight for the good company?" Her bright smile let you hold your breath for a moment and you nod happily. "At the hotel bar? Ask for Natasha. I'll wait for you there."

Sam

"Gaye, Gaye, Gaye, Marvin Gaye!" you were delighted to find the name of one of your favorite singers on the shelf of the small stuffy vinyl store. Feverishly you had searched for new records and today you had landed in this store. One by one you went through all the records Marvin Gaye had released. 

"If you ask me, the Trouble Man soundtrack is the best thing ever composed, although You're all I need isn't bad either." Startled, you whirl around; a man was standing in front of you, you'd seen walking around with interest earlier. "Oh uh thanks for the tip, but I already knew that. Marvin Gaye is my favorite singer." Smiling widely you take the Trouble Man soundtrack off the shelf, watched by the stranger. 

"Oh really? I've never met a woman who calls Marvin Gaye her favorite singer." Astonished he examines you with a breathtaking smile on his lips. "Well you haven't met me yet either. Y/n." "Sam Wilson. Do you want to listen to the album together?" "I'd love to Sam."

Steve

Your Saturday evening wasn’t as expected. You have already made plans with your friends but unfortunately your mom called you to pick up your grandfather because she and your dad couldn’t make it. 

 You loved your grandpa, and you would do anything for him, but you couldn’t hold back an annoyed sigh as you started your car. No one waited at the entrance of the building as you arrived at the address. With one another sigh you walked through the entrance. 

You saw your grandpa immediately, sitting at the bar, as you stepped out of the elevator. Besides him many of his friends you already knew and two younger men standing near you. 

“Hi can I help you?” One of the men came closer with a friendly smile on his lips which made you blush because of the unexpected attention. He was tall, short blonde hair, beautiful eyes and the dark blue shirt showed off his muscles perfectly. “Hi. I’m here to pick up my grandpa.” Without looking away from these deep blue eyes, you answered noticing that your voice wasn’t as confident as you wanted. 

“Y/n sweetheart. Come sit down. I don't have as much time as the captain.” You both looked to your grandpa who was grinning with one beer in his hand. “How much did he drink?”

 You and the stranger both looked at each other with raised eyebrows, slowly realizing that it was Captain America who you were talking to. “Enough… I’m sorry.” His face showed that he was seriously sorry which made you grin again. “Everything’s fine. He’s old enough.” The blonde relaxed at your answer and offered you a beer with a wink.

 “I’m Steve by the way. Nice to meet you y/n.”

Thor

It was a pretty cheesy first to get to know. 

 You were on your way home early in the evening after you were at work all day. Completely exhausted, you typed wildly on your phone to answer some more mails before you started the weekend. In quick steps, you walked past bars where a number of people lured in the weekend with a few drinks. Your evening would consist of some take away food and Netflix for sure. One block away from the building where your apartment was, you ran into someone. 

 “Can't you look where you walk?!” With a less deliberate harsh voice, you slowly get back on your feet after landing on the ice-cold asphalt. Your counterpart had still stretched out his arms as if he wanted to help you, but you completely ignored that. 

 “Sorry Miss, it wasn't my intention to stamp on you. I was about to-” 

“Whatever, it's all right. No bones were broken." With clenched teeth, you rub your slightly hurting elbow. 

 “Are you sure everything's okay? Obviously, something hurts you." He pointed to your arm. “Everything's fine, thank you.” 

 For the first time, you looked into the piercing blue-grey eyes of the man, which just grew bigger when you answered. He looked good, no question. Two heads bigger than you, wide-built, blonde hair, which was tied in a braid, a few strands outlined his narrow face with a beard and those eyes that unintentionally captivated you. 

 “I'm really sorry. I'd like to make it up to you." You only took his melodic voice on the verge, like in trance, you were trying to make your hair look good again and staring at him. “Yes… gladly. By the way, I'm y/n." 

He watched your outstretched hand for a short moment until he finally took it and pressed a kiss on the back of the hand at lightning speed. “Thor. A pleasure to make your acquaintance y/n." "Okay, Thor, I'd say you're paying the first drink.“

Wanda

You were alone in the city to go shopping. In one store you found a lot of new clothes that you really wanted to try on. In the dressing room you put on a pair of Heels, pants, a top and a matching blazer and walked out to look at yourself in the big mirror in front of the dressing rooms. You noticed another woman wearing exactly the same outfit as you, in a lighter color, looking at herself in the same mirror a little further behind you. 

 "It suits you perfectly if I may say so." With a wide smile, you looked at her through the mirror. Her long brown wavy hair, heart shaped face with big brown eyes matches perfectly with the light colors. 

"Oh thank you so much, but it looks much better on you." She came up to you as you turned around and eyed you up and down. "You should definitely buy that. The shoes fit perfectly too."

Feeling embarrassed, because of another compliment from her, you brushed a loose strand of hair away, that had fallen out of your bun. 

 "But only if you buy it too." She nodded in agreement, "If you wear it the next time we see each other." 

 Speechless and surprised, you felt the uprising heat in your cheeks when her smile widened as she saw your embarrassment. You hastily nod which made her giggle. 

"This Friday at seven? I'll pick you up if you like, or we can meet somewhere." Slowly your speechless expression turned into a smile. "My place at 7. Here..." You handed her your cell phone. Hastily she typed her number, "Text me." With a wink, she disappeared into her cubicle. A glance at your cell phone screen told you her name. 

Wanda

[moccahobi]

Dear Diary [Jimin x Reader]

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff

Rating: E for everyone

Summery: You’re moving! Finally. Getting into a masters program in South Korea meant soooo much to you and it also offered the perfect opportunity to move in with your favorite pen pal and high school friend from an exchange: Park Jimin. A sweet and caring squirrel hybrid.

Word Count: 6.3k words

Genre: Fluff, Hybrid AU, Roommates AU, Friends to Lovers

A/N: OMGGGG. Formatting this was soooo annoying. Never again am I going to do so many dividers. It was not it chief. Lolol. I love this fic though! It is part of a collab for hybrids (check out the masterlist here) you should totally check them out! All the authors here are soooo amazing and their works are amazing in this too! Also! Thank you to @jung-hoseok-s-airplane​ and @spicykoreantatertots​ the two amazing people who betaed this fic for me! They helped soooo much!

Unlocking the door to your shabby apartment, you were struck by how empty it looked. It was really more of a ghost of your apartment at this point. You’d been slowly shipping your stuff over to South Korea for almost a month (really, as soon as you were accepted to Seoul University’s master program and Jimin agreed to be your roommate) and by now, all you had to take with you on your flight tomorrow was a small day bag with your necessities and a suitcase full of the clothes you’d worn this week. Your empty apartment really made the move feel real (something your job’s kind send off party hadn’t done). This move was real.

You had gotten accepted into your dream program across the world.

Tomorrow afternoon you’ll be leaving this area and moving in with Jimin.

You giggled and sat on your couch with a dazed smile stuck on your face. It wasn’t really your couch anymore was it? Your landlord was keeping all the furniture. Not that you really cared. How would you have possibly carted your large furniture across the world anyways? 

After almost four years of living here though… you’d be leaving behind many memories stored in this apartment. Like when one of your friends spent the night here after an evening of clubbing and ended up vomiting all over the rug you’d placed in the living space. He promised to pay for a deep cleaning the next day, which you took him up on… but then he just rented a steam cleaner. He was a funny person like that. Although… it was much less expensive than a cleaning service probably was. Looking back, you laughed at how worried you were of him finding one of your many journals stored on your bookshelf, so worried that you hid them under your bed. Not that it really mattered. He was a sweet friend and your journals just looked like notebooks.

Had you packed them? After shoving them under your bed all that time ago, you didn’t even think about looking back on them. Maybe if you hadn’t been reminiscing, you would’ve forgotten them here and lost them forever. Surely your landlord would just throw them away without a second thought. 

You’d been sleeping on an empty mattress and a small pillow for three days now, your comforter and sheets already in Korea with Jimin. You shuddered against your cold floor as you knelt down on the cold hard floor to grab your almost forgotten journals. With them in hand, you settled onto your pillow-less couch and carefully opened up the last journal you’d written. It was from the study abroad you did in South Korea in your last year of high school. Without that study abroad, you’d never have met Jimin and you most definitely wouldn’t be moving across the world for your masters program.

You wouldn’t want to do anything else though. Jimin was probably your best friend and this program was the opportunity of a lifetime. With a nostalgic smile on your face, you started to read.

Dear diary, 

Something crazy happened today! Ahhh! I was so shocked when Jimin, THE social butterfly of my school, came up and started talking to me. He’s a hybrid of some sort, not that it matters to me. He’s got a black bowl cut too… it looks funny with his furry pointed ears sticking out of it. Anyways, the conversation was a little stunted at first… I barely knew Korean and Jimin barely knew English but somehow we had a really good conversation. I am honestly so shocked. Here I thought that as an exchange student in South Korea, I’d just talk to other exchange students and mumble a few words to other students. I mean… I know Korean some but not much. It was… AHHH! I had so fun talking to Jimin. He’s so sweet and kind. I even added him on Kakao. He’s my first non-exchange family member on my Kakao. I can’t wait to get to know him more.

Dear diary, 

Jimin and I talk almost daily! Mostly through text because we don’t see each other much during school but that’s ok! He is in a lot more advanced classes than I but I think we are planning on meeting up for lunch this Wednesday. He even asked if I wanted to join him at the dance club but I said no… I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of my only friend. Given, Jimin is so friendly and sweet that I bet he’d just laugh and try to teach me but still. Besides, he apparently competes. That’s what I’d heard from others at school at least. I don’t want to distract him from preparing for competitions. 

Dear diary,

I went to a karaoke booth with Jimin and some of his friends. It was so fun! Jimin’s friends were a little shy to talk to me but they opened up as we started to sing more. I didn’t expect them to be such weebs like me! Lol. They all joined in to sing the current theme song of One Piece. It was soo funny. The mic didn’t know who to focus on and we got such a baddddd score. Jisoo was sooo funny while singing (Jisoo is a sweet cat hybrid). Jimin is surprisingly a great singer though! I was surprised. Is there anything he is possibly bad at? I don’t know. 

After karaoke, he and I went to a park and just chilled. Instead of sitting at a bench, Jimin dragged me off to a small clearing and sat on a low tree branch. It was the first time I really thought of him as a hybrid because… like… sitting on that tree with his tail swaying slowly as he ate ice cream… I don’t know. It was nice to just be with him there but still. It didn’t help that he kept batting at me with his tail until I joined him on the branch. I could have sworn the branch shook as I joined! We probably both almost died because of that branch broke, we would have fallen! I am exaggerating… but still. 

You were such an extra kid at times. A laugh left you as you thought back on that afternoon spent talking while chilling on the tree branch. Now you knew there was no way you would have died even if the branch fell. The worst thing that would have happened would have been a broken bone (although with Jimin’s quick reflexes and hearing, he might have noticed the branch start to splinter before it even became an emergency for both of you). 

Looking over at the clock, you noted that it was almost nine at night. Jimin would wake up soon and start his last day roommate-less. You chuckled thinking about what he might be doing right now. Maybe he’d be meticulously rolling over his couch so that his hair wasn’t all over it when you first sat down, or he was washing all the blankets to make sure they were extra soft (in reality, he was probably hitting snooze for the 100th time that morning).  Either way, he was probably just as excited to see you again as you were. Sure you’d texted each other almost daily but it wasn’t the same. You both became super busy and the time zone difference made it hard to video chat often. 

Life happened and no amount of texting or video chatting seemed to make up for that.

For all you knew, Jimin looked so different from what you remember that when you arrive at the airport and look for him holding the “Welcome Y/n” sign he made, you will only be able to recognize him by the sign (and his tail… unless he dyed the dark brown tail to be some other color). 

Maybe you’d changed too. Your hair and style have undoubtedly changed… but would Jimin notice changes other than that? Maybe your scent had changed. You knew that hybrids had more sensitive noses and often identified people by scent (you learned that the hard way by trying to play hide and seek in the dark with Jimin and some of his friends at a party… never again). During your exchange, Jimin claimed you smelled like blossoms (from how you’d read about smells in the past, you knew there was more to one’s smell than just one thing but you didn’t push Jimin for more). Maybe you’d ask Jimin again sometime.

A vibration from your phone took you out of your thoughts and when you checked the notification, you chuckled. It was as if Jimin knew that you were thinking about him. 

Jimi: I built your bedframe~

Jimi: When your sheets arrive today I will make your bed. That way you don’t have to worry about all that after such a long flight. 

Jimi: Can’t wait to see u again!

You: Thank you

You: I am excited to see you soon too!

Looking down at your worn journals and gently rubbing their spines, you decided you wanted to have a journal for this journey too. Given your track record of starting and dropping journals, you’d probably only keep at it for a month or so but could still be very nice. There was one simple issue with your plan though, you didn’t have a notebook to write in… or a pen. Those things were in Korea by now. 

You’d have to leave the house to get that stuff… or you could just buy it at the airport tomorrow. The airport only sold overpriced stuff though… plus it would be cool to start writing now.

With that thought, you got up, put your shoes on, grabbed your wallet and keys, and walked to the closest general store. After little deliberation, you bought a slender black dotted notebook and gel pens. Excitement bubbled up inside you as you sat on your couch again, pen poised to write. This would be fun. 

Dear diary,

I am moving tomorrow. 

I am moving halfway across the world to live with Jimin, a squirrel hybrid and my best friend. I was accepted into my dream masters program and will be living in South Korea on a student visa. I am so excited to see Jimin again. Has he changed much or is he still the same old sweet guy who hid in trees to think and talks to strangers? I’ll know soon. 

Well… it won’t be that soon. I have to fly to South Korea first. 

It’ll be a long flight. I’ll arrive in Seoul tomorrow at 5pm and Jimin will take me out to dinner with some of his friends before we just relax at our shared apartment. Almost all of my stuff is already in the apartment. I’ve been shipping them across for a little over a month or so now. 

I am so excited. 

I should probably eat something and go to bed though. Tomorrow will be long and full of tedious airport procedures… yay! Note the sarcasm. 

Good night. 

Let’s see if I use you.

Dear diary,

It is almost time to board. I am so excited. When I was packing, I thought that I would be more anxious about the move and make a little sad about leaving my friends and family behind, but I don’t feel anxious or sad. Ok… I am a little sad. But my excitement outweighs my sadness. I’ll be leaving some friends behind but I will be making so many more! And I’ll finally get to see Jimin again as well. 

Oh.

My flight is about to board. I guess I will talk to you later then!

You were exhausted by the time you finally sat down in your seat, ready to see Jimin again and sleep in a made bed. The flight would be a long slog full of you getting up to use the bathroom, walking down the isles just to move, reading a book because it was one of the few forms of entertainment you had, and drinking lots of water. It was exhausting (somehow), yet time moved and eventually you found yourself staring out at Korea’s landscape. 

The city was alive and so pretty. For a moment you forgot that you were tired. Given the second you got up, you remembered it all again. Your legs felt sore and tired from sitting in one spot for so long and your eyelids were almost sheets of lead by now. As you waited for the people in front of you to leave the plane, you turned your phone back on (you’d bought a cellular plan last week for when you would be in Korea). As soon as it connected to your new plan, you were bombarded with excited messages from Jimin that he’d sent all through his day. From photos of food he’d cooked for your first dinner together to the ‘Welcome to Korea Y/n’ poster he made for you. It made you smile and  as you neared where he said he would be waiting for you, you grew even more excited once again. 

Would you get along with his friends?

Would your schedules match? 

Jimin came into view before you could keep thinking, his “Welcome to Korea Y/n” sign much bigger and grander than you imagined. There were two hybrids flanking either side of him, one you recognized as Jisoo from high school and the other you’d never met before. Even from the six or so meter distance you were at right now, you could see Jimin’s tail quiver excitedly. You sped up. Six meters couldn’t end soon enough. Jimin handed the poster to one of his friends and engulfed you in a suffocating hug, his warmth flooding you. Almost immediately, you felt a sense of home in Jimin’s arms, your bodies melding together nicely and a sense of calm settling over you. You didn’t want to let go. It wasn’t until one of his friends coughed awkwardly that Jimin released you and held you at arms length while giving you a once over. 

He looked good. 

Not that you expected much else from the dancer. Numberless days spent in the studio sculpted his body better than any artist you knew or studied could have done. Miraculously enough he’d somehow developed a sense of style. You especially loved his colorblocked button up shirt that seemed to shine in the dingy airport. 

“Nice to smell you again, Y/n-ah.” Jimin said, a shit-eating grin splitting his sweet smile as he winked at you.

A loud snort left one of Jimin’s friends, who appeared to be a pig hybrid. A cute pig hybrid at that. A shy blush bloomed across his handsome and plump face before he asked to take your suitcase (something you happily let him take). Jimin chittered quietly next to you as you quickly introduced yourself to his friends (the pig hybrid’s name Minju and the other, a mutual high school friend, Jisoo). The four of you started to leave the airport. 

“I wouldn’t have invited Jisoo and Minju to come and pick you up but I don’t have a car… I figured that you’d rather not lug all your stuff around the subway.”

“Out of all three of us – four of us I guess– I am the only one with a car.” Jisoo injected happily, twirling his keys around one of his slender fingers.

You laughed and nodded. Content to just listen to the three of them banter and talk as you were led to Jisoo’s car. They seemed content to embarrass each other by telling you about things they’ve done in the past that varied in severity from mistakes while dancing to drunken nights spent together. At one point, you even added in a story of Jimin and Jisoo fighting with sparklers, getting burned, and then burning all the sparklers as “revenge”. The banter didn’t stop until the car stopped and by then you’d felt as if you had spent more than just one year and a car ride with them.

“Now, Y/n-ssi, I know that you and Jimin talked about going back to his place and having a relaxing night–”

“We did and I’m excited to eat the food Jimin made. If it’s edible.” You added, smiling as Jisoo laughed and Jimin shouted.

“Yes. Well, Jimin had to make a deal with me to get me as a chauffeur.”

“It was a damn rotten deal.”

Minju laughed, “Whatever you say Chim. He’s still gotta honor it. So we are getting some food.”

A large and towering building faced you from outside the car and if the sign was anything to go by, it was more than just a restaurant. It was a karaoke place. A smile grew on your face as you looked up at it. Tonight would be fun… even if you were tired.

Dear diary,

Tonight was amazing. Sure I’d hoped to just settle into Jimin’s and my apartment and go to bed early after eating… but instead Jimin treated Minju, Jisoo, and I to dinner at a karaoke place. I’d have to look but it might have been the same place Jimin, Jisoo, some of Jimin’s friends, and I went to in high school. Not that it matters too much. We had so much fun! By the end of the night I even had Jisoo’s and Minju’s phone number too. Hopefully we can all be friends. 

Jimin has changed in ways I hadn’t noticed when we talked online. He seems to have picked up this habit of chittering. I want to try to figure out if there is something that causes him to chitter or if it just happens. Near the end of the night I tried paying attention to that but it was hard. Almost always when he started chittering, I was doing something. It’s good to be around him again. I missed him more than I realized.

Dear Diary, 

I start classes tomorrow! Yay!!! I also have a job interview tomorrow… which is less exciting. I knew that I would need a job and that I would have to wait until I had officially signed the lease (which happened literally the day after I moved in), but it was still so much work! Jimin has been helping me through which has been suuuuper helpful. After he comes home from the studio and eats– I have been cooking for him since he’s been busier than me– he’s been helping me modify and send in my resumes to places. It’s nice. We sit next to each other on the couch and just… put our heads together to get it done. 

After finishing that, he and I watched a movie after (this has happened two times!). We’ll cuddle together and watch some movie Jimin’s decided I need to watch. He’s a good cuddle buddy. I’ve enjoyed it. Well… wish me luck on my job!

“You’re back? That was fast! I barely had time to finish making dinner!” Jimin called out as you entered, tired from a long week (more like a long month or two by now) of classes and work but nonetheless happy to be home with Jimin. 

Throwing your bag on the closest chair, you went to him and gave him a tight side hug. Almost immediately, you felt some of your built up stress leave you. He was magical like that. You could be having a horrible day and just the sight of your best friend would make it all so much better. The nights where you would sit on the couch together and read or watch tv or just talk were your favorites. Jimin’s head would slowly drift into your lap and you would start to play with his soft hair and ears, your eyes trailing his beautiful face. Tonight would probably be one of those nights if you had any say in his evening plans. 

Jimin’s tail quivered and tickled your nose.

“I am sorry you had such a rough day, Y/n-ah.” Jimin said with a whine and you felt him move to set whatever he was holding down.

“It’s life, I guess.”

“That doesn’t make it any better, ”Jimin turned around and started hugging you tightly as well, gently rubbing his cheek against your neck, “I don’t like it when you’re this stressed, Y/n-ah. Let me take care of you tonight. I don’t want you stressing anymore tonight.” 

You laughed but gave in as Jimin started leading you to the couch before he started to bring the food he made into the living space as well. Soon enough, you were being coddled by Jimin who was making sure you ate and cuddling you as the two of you watched some random show. Sleep didn’t find you that night though. For some unknown reason, butterflies were hatching in your stomach and all you could do is feel them flutter around while wondering why you were possibly feeling such flutters. 

Less than a month later, as snow started falling down rapidly, you found yourself in a similar situation. It was your turn to make dinner, which wasn’t a problem because it also happened to be one of the rare days you had off. It was almost 8 at night by the time you finished dinner, the sun long set and Jimin would be home soon. You’d just finished setting the table and were scared by how harshly Jimin slammed the door shut. Normally he was so careful with closing the door, respectful of your neighbors and not wanting to damage anything. 

“Jimin-ah? Is that you?”

“Who else would it be? Have you been giving spare keys to your friends?”

You laughed and grabbed his backpack from him, “Aish. Why would I do that? We agreed not to. How was your day?”

Jimin walked into his room, his door open as he started changing. All the while he was venting. The students didn’t catch on to his newest dance as fast as he’d hoped and during break he heard them complaining. Then he ended up needing to take on an extra class because one of his coworkers bailed and he didn’t have time to practice for his showcase next week. Which was also a complete mess because everyone was being complete idiots, not that Jimin would ever tell them that.

“I’ve been looking forward to dinner all day though.” Jimin said with a large smile on his face as he sat down at the table, you joined him.

After dinner, you and Jimin sat on the couch and as Shrek was playing, he curled up next to you and rested his head on your lap, demanded pets. You wanted to laugh and make fun of him for being so clingy but refrained. He was so stressed. Now wasn’t the right time to make fun of him and his vulnerability. Plus, part of you relished in him wanting cuddles from you. 

Dear Diary,

I am sorry that I’ve been neglecting you. Lol. I’ve been so busy! Being a student full time with a part time job is stressful. Who would have thought? Jimin’s been stressing sooo much over his latest dance performance. It is honestly stressing me out. 

It probably isn’t healthy for him either. He literally spent the whole weekend practicing at the studio… I dropped off lunch for him both days. AND yesterday was one of his days to make dinner and instead of telling me that he couldn’t, he simply didn’t return to the apartment until, like, 10pm. I was so worried. THEN! He got upset at me for assuming he’d be cooking when his show is this Friday. Like, sorry I wasn’t informed that you wouldn’t be. 

More importantly though, I am worried about Jimin. He used to come to me before his performances and we would talk. I was a person he could turn to for stress relief, but all he’s done leading up to this performance is snap at me and hide away in his studio in preparation. I don’t want him to be this stressed out… 

What should I do?

By the next day, you’d figured out what must be done. You were going to forcefully bring Jimin home and the two of you would relax. All of Jimin’s favorite foods were laid out on the living space’s coffee table and you’d even gotten some extra skin care stuff because you knew Jimin loved that. This night would be all about relaxing. Hell, you were even prepared to massage Jimin’s gross feet and back. You’d do anything to make sure that Jimin could relax some. 

You just had to… go to his studio and interrupt him in the middle of his practice… and forcefully bring him home. 

No big deal. You could do it.

Right?

Right.

With a deep sigh, you gave your relaxation set-up a final once over and left the house. It was already 5pm and if you were going to make Jimin relax, you were going to need to start it soon. All throughout driving to Jimin’s studio, you were thinking over the many ways you could try to convince Jimin to relax and when you finally made it to the studio, you realized another issue: 

You had no idea which room he had rented out today.

With an awkward smile and a nod at the receptionist, you made your way into the building. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too hard to find Jimin… 

Of course it was hard. He just so happened to be in the third floor studio furthest from the stairs. When you found his room, you noticed he wasn’t alone. Minju was also visiting him. Neither of them noticed you approaching the door. Both were sitting and talking and when you reached the door you started to be able to hear tidbits of what they were saying.

“You’re going to… Seriously?”

“Yeah. I figured it’d be a super sweet way to confess. It’s why I am stressing so much about this performance. It has to be perfect.”

Oh.

You didn’t open the door.

Jimin liked someone? 

Why didn’t you know?

You were best friends right?

Best friends were supposed to tell this stuff. 

Sadness and disappointment filled your stomach and you contemplated turning around and just letting Jimin practice. Clearly this was important to him. You didn’t want to get in the way of him and another person.

“I don’t know man. Y/n… like this.”

“Like you would know? You’ve known her for the equivalence of a year and then some! I have been… five years now. I was… and as she celebrated!”

“Woah, Jimin-ah… I’m going to go now. Good luck.”

What?

Your brain was short circuiting. He liked you? You must have misheard that. That wasn’t possible. Jimin was… he was a catch and you were just you.

Did you even think of him that way? 

“Oh! Hi, Y/n-ah. Crazy seeing you here!” Minju practically shouted, a smirk on his face as he looked back at Jimin. 

Fuck! Somehow you managed to mumble a hello to Minju before shuffling into the dance studio and looking at Jimin. He looked tired. He also looked shocked and afraid. 

You weren’t supposed to hear what you just heard.

“O-Oh… Y/n-ah! What are you doing here?” 

“Well… I, uhhh, I came because I was worried about you. You’re coming home whether you like it or not and you’re going to relax with me.” You tried to be assertive but all the gusto you’d worked up seemed to have disappeared with Minju. 

“O-Ok.”

“How much of that c-conversation did you hear, Y/n-ah?”

You sighed, “I…,” Were you about to be honest about this? 

Did you want him confessing in front of a crowd of people?

No.

“I think I heard you say that you were planning on confessing to me after your performance?” You didn’t sound sure of yourself, not in the slightest. Not that you knew how anyone could possibly be sure of themselves in such a situation. Jimin himself seemed to deflate, his eyes wide.   

“Fuck. This isn’t how you were supposed to find out. I had–”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his confirmation of wanting to ask you out.

Why?

Did you have a crush on him?

“So you were planning on confessing?”

“Yeah? I am so sorry if this makes you uncomfortable. Fuck. I didn’t think this through. We’re roommates. This–”

“I’d be down for a date…” 

“What?” Jimin jumped up, his tail quivering and ears twitching.

“I’d be down for a date. I… I don’t know if I like you back, romantically at least… but I might and I won’t know unless we try.” Jimin looked at you with shock and you started to feel much, much smaller than Jimin.

“What? Really?”

You nodded.

“Omo! Omo! You won’t regret this one bit!” Jimin was bouncing around the room, excitement clearly evident on his face as he celebrated. 

Next thing you knew, you were being pulled into a tight hug, Jimin gently rubbing your neck and repeatedly saying “thank you”. Those damn butterflies never left and as you looked at him, you started to really enjoy the idea of dating him. 

He was your little squirrel… but he wasn’t that little.

“When do you want our first date to be? Oh! I need time to plan! Can we have it after my performance? I really need to keep practicing for it… even if I’m not confessing to you after it anymore. Is that ok with you?” Jimin pulled away from the hug, holding you at arms length and looking worried once again. His brows were furrowed and his teeth worried away at his plump lips.

Huh… You’d never noticed just how cute his plump lips were.

“Hmmm… no.” Jimin paled once again, “Our first date… will be… right now.” You said with a smile and a laugh as his brows furrowed deeper. 

You reached up and soothed the space between his brows with a soft coo, “You’re super stressed, Jimin-ah. I don’t enjoy seeing you stressed. I planned to take you away from the studio tonight. I have skin care and food back home… and if we want we can also go to your favorite bibimbap restaurant before going back to the apartment. How does that sound?” 

Jimin looked conflicted, his cute beady eyes searching your face and moving around the room as he thought. Unless he spoke, you wouldn’t know what he was thinking over and you had half a mind to ask him to speak but instead, you simply waited for Jimin to come to a decision.

“I mean… I was hoping to have some really extravagant first date,” He started but he had already moved to his bag at the side of the room, “This does sound like a great date though… maybe more of a second date or a third date in my opinion–”

“Let’s count it as our second date then. No need to split hairs, Jimin-ah. I’ll wait for you outside the locker room.”

Without giving Jimin time to say anything else, you left and made your way down the stairs to where the locker rooms were. Jimin ran quickly down the stairs and bolted into the locker room, his soft brown ears pinned to his head from how fast he was going. You laughed before settling onto the floor outside the locker room and playing one of the games on your phone. It would be a flip of the coin to see how long Jimin would take. You were personally betting that he is so excited to go on the date that he rushes and is out in fifteen, but he could also want to look good for the date and in turn take an hour. 

Not that he didn’t always look good. 

Even when you just thought of him as a friend, you knew he looked good. Did you think of him as more than a friend? Possibly, yeah. The idea of going on dates with him and being romantic with him sounds amazing. You were really excited to see how this date will go. Distractedly, you tapped away at your game, your mind in la-la-land as it started to think up a future with Jimin. 

“Ready, Y/n-ah?” Jimin asked when he finally finished in the changing room. 

In the end, he took a whole hour and a half to get ready and you were almost positive that you saw Jisoo sneak into the changing room with a bag from your apartment, his sleek tail almost hit you in the face as he exited the locker room. As you looked up at Jimin, you were once again struck by just how handsome he was. He styled his hair away from his face somehow and he looked unfairly good in his black skinny jeans and an oversized sweater. 

You clambered up onto your feet, your legs numb from sitting in one spot for so long, and nodded at him with a shy smile. Gingerly, as if he was scared of breaking you, he grabbed your hand and the two of you left the dance studio. 

Dear Diary,

Jimin asked me out! I was so shocked! Like… it isn’t bad at all… It is actually nice. Really nice. I like it a ton… and even though we’ve only gone on one date so far, I am really starting to like the idea of dating Jimin. He is so… so cute and kind and attentive. We got bibimbap and then just did skincare and stuff. 

Something I am really glad about though is that I found out tonight. Apparently, Jimin was hoping to ask me out Friday after his performance… which would have been so embarrassing… (Imagine the pressure and… PDA is roughhh)… but I overheard him talking to Minju. Gosh. I wonder how Minju thinks of this. Did Jimin text him that we started dating? Is he just waiting until we see each other next? I don’t know what I’d prefer. 

But uhhh… Jimin and I talked about having a “real” first date after his performance. I’m a little apprehensive though… I don’t want him to be exhausted during our first date. I trust Jimin though. He knows himself better than anyone else and if he thinks that he can handle a date after his recital… then so be it. 

AHHH! I am so excited! Wish me luck. I really hope this works out. 

You adjusted anxiously in the theater seat, your dress feeling all too tight in all the wrong places as you looked over the recital directory. Jisoo and Minju were next to you, glancing at you and smirking every once in a while. Jimin most definitely told them that you’re dating… and it doesn’t help that you showed up to the recital over-dressed in preparation for your date with Jimin afterwards. Which was at some super fancy place… how he roped you into that? You don’t know. You were just glad that he’d agreed to go dutch. There wasn’t any way in the world that you’d let him pay for both of your meals at such an expensive restaurant. 

The recital hall was packed, people murmuring and talking excitedly. All of it stopped though when the lights dimmed and the host (a stout looking woman with some sort of large ears on her head) came on to introduce people. Soon enough the recital started and you became entranced by the many dancers who flounced around on stage. They all seemed so… natural up on the stage. Your breath was completely taken away when Jimin performed though. He was practically flying on stage and the way he moved was so… graceful and fluid. All too soon he was done. He’d taken the show. All throughout the rest of the recital you were transfixed. Jimin’s dance was playing on repeat in your mind, your breath stolen and thoughts completely empty. Soon enough, the show finished up and everyone around you was cheering. Almost half-heartedly, you joined along and followed Minju and Jisoo to where the meet-up was. 

Why were you so anxious about seeing Jimin now? You were about to go on a date with him and yet all you could think about was his dance. In no time, Jimin was bouncing over in a nice suit of his own. 

How were you supposed to function? 

Not only was he the best dancer in… in the world but he was also undoubtedly the most handsome man you’d ever met. The three were talking around you but you were still transfixed. A hand gently touched your back and you jumped. 

“Are you ok, Y/n-ah?" 

It was Jimin. He was looking at you with concerned eyes and a soft smile. Minju and Jisoo were gone. You two were alone. 

"I… Yeah. You were amazing out there. I am just… speechless.”

Jimin laughed quietly, a smug smile on his face as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“You’re ready for our date?" 

You nodded excitedly, walking out of the theater with Jimin in tow. This was going to be an amazing night. 

Dear Diary,

Tonight was AMAZING. I know I was apprehensive before about dating Jimin but OMG IT WAS SOOOO GOOD. He was such a gentleman and when we held hands I felt butterflies erupt and it just.. It felt so nice. Tonight literally couldn’t have go-

Dear Y/n’s Diary,

I promise to take good care of her. We had a great night and I plan on making her my girlfriend soon. Now if you excuse us, I need cuddles from her.

Jimin.

[causeimhappinesss]

Fading innocence - Thomas Shelby

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader

Warnings: age gap, smut, loss of virginty

Request : Hiii i'm the one that requested the tommy x christian reader, i was thinking if maybe you could write the moment where he takes her virginity, what does the family think about her, her telling him (before they start to date) that she wants to create a family with her future husband and have at least 2 kids or more because she wants them to have eachother's back always, and his reaction to it too♡♡♡♡ thank you so much♡♡♡♡

Disclaimer: I’m french and even if I’m learning English for a long time, it’s not perfect and I’m sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes. I haven’t written in English for almost a year. If English is your native language (or if you’re bilingual), I would really appreciate it if you could help me by correcting my errors. Just don’t be too harsh, please. :)

***

Living in a wealthy family had advantages and disadvantages, it was undeniable. First, you couldn't date someone who didn't belong to your rank. Second, you were brought up in a very Catholic family and therefore, no sex before marriage. Oh God, no! Your father would have wanted your head on a stake, that's for sure! Third, your education made you very polite.

This is surely what had pleased Thomas Shelby the day you met him. As a politician, he was often called upon to meet so-called "high society people", other politicians and their families. So he had been invited for a weekend to a deputy's house. Drinking good French wine, playing golf, riding horses on your father's huge property, talking business and politics; it was the schedule. He planned to stick to it without causing any problems. To tell the truth, he appreciated your father, he was a very nice man who shared his vision of things in the political world, although he thought he too... Catholic, for his taste.

You stood in front of him, magnificent, breathtaking in this white dress that highlighted your purity and your curves, without ever falling into vulgarity. Beautiful women, he had seen them. He had even slept with a large number of them. Yet none, except Grace, had done this to him. You took his breath away.

He spied on you, in your every move. Your long doe eyelashes adorned your eyes with a color he judged sumptuous by its nuances. That doe look, what made him weak every time you spoke to him. "Mr. Shelby, what do you prefer in politics? "," Thomas, what are your next projects for the most disadvantaged populations? "," Tommy, could you teach me how to ride a horse, correctly? " 72 hours of pure delight where he became close to you. People had to be blind not to see this alchemy.

It was also long conversations between the two of you, he discovered that you liked to read, sometimes you wrote, you liked arts in general, and that you dreamed of starting your own family with several children. A dream of a little girl your never abandoned. Tommy could only find it respectable, even if part of him thought it was too… Classic? He had known women wilder than that, more free-spirited and yet your love of family and innocent side attracted him.

"I want my children to always have each other's back, it's so important in a family," it didn't surprise Tommy. The latter could only smile.

"A closely-knit family ? It's not easy, it's very rare, you know. I love my family, but sometimes, protecting each other is not as easy as you think. There's always a vicious guy to screw everything up. The perfect family doesn’t exist."

And after that, you tried to argue again and despite your youth, your lack of experience in life, you were doing pretty well.

The tall, violent and enigmatic Thomas Shelby couldn't take his eyes off you. You were so beautiful that it became painful. His heart was racing. His hands were shaking at times. In the evening, in his bed, he imagined your sweet face as he stroked his cock. You became his obsession. You were almost perfect. Almost. Why "almost"? You were so young, so... Devoted to God. Quite his opposite. Tommy was already 40 years old, and you just celebrated your 21st birthday. You liked to pray before each meal, especially in the evening, and you went to church each Sunday.

He thought he had no chance with you. And yet that didn't stop him from organizing weekends like this more and more often. Sometimes, your family was staying with him and sometimes, you family was telling him to stay. Of course, your father noticed something, even if he said nothing. In reality, he was waiting for Tommy to behave like a man and confess things to him. Your father hoped Tommy would ask you to marry him. This alliance would be a nice thing in terms of politics and it made him feel good about not having to force his daughter to marry a man she absolutely wouldn't love.

On your side, you often thought about this man. You thought he was attractive, enigmatic and you liked this harsh, icy side that he displayed with the others, while he was soft with you. You did everything to be in the same room as him, to find a topic for discussion and you loved when he taught you concrete things of real life. Your mother didn’t always see this as a good thing, she wanted to preserve you, a little Catholic from a good family, who had to be protected from obscenity. You were so innocent that you had no idea what happened when two adults kissed in a bed… You knew that they ended up naked, that there was a link between the female sex and the male sex, but it ended there. Likewise, the conception of a child was still unclear to you. For good reason, you didn’t went to school where children and adolescents share their new knowledges. And you only befriended with girls from wealthy and Catholic families, your mother watched your companies, so you couldn't know.

One evening, when you were at home and Tommy was sleeping in your parents' manor, you were dying of heat. Despite the window open in your room, the chest exposed with just your little nightie and a leg over your blanket, you turned in all directions. The moonlight allowed you to see everything in your room and your own body. You kept thinking of "Mr. Shelby" ... You were constantly looking for contact with him, so when he was nearby, you deliberately let your clothes rub against his when you walked near him, or you would slide your knee against his, if he sat next to you. You missed his touch. Imagining him putting his hands on your waist, your heartbeat increased and a sigh crossed the barrier of your lips. You stir in your bed again, until you felt your nipples rub against the blanket. With your nipples erected, your back shaken by pleasant chills, you sighed again. It was so nice. By mechanism, you did it again. It was so nice. Why did this friction do you so much good? Why did you want to start over? You felt a heat spread in your lower-abdomen. Without realizing it, your pelvis began to wave against the covers, which you pulled up between your thighs. Soon, the fabric rubbed obscenely against your intimacy despite your panties. It was so good that many sighs of desire and pleasure crossed the barrier of your lips. Soon, you repeated the name "Tommy" like a mantra.

In the middle of the night, Tommy felt the need to drink a glass of water. That’s why he got out of bed, put on a pant he buttoned up, and an undershirt. However, to go down to the kitchen, he had to walk near your room. Your sighs, which became weak moans, attracted his attention. He stopped, frowning, he was surprised. He thought he was dreaming. How did such an innocent little thing produce these sinful sounds? He pressed his ear to the door and he felt the excitement build up inside of him. He was used to this kind of noise, but what excited him was the fact it came out of your mouth. He felt his erection grow when she distinguished said his name. He slid his hand over his stretched cock, unable to resist the urge to join you in your bed, regardless of what it might cause. After all, Thomas Shelby does what he wants.

He discreetly opened the door of your room and closed it in silence, so you wouldn’t panic. Thanks to the moonlight, he saw you, the blanket between your thighs, your white nightie pulled up to the top of your thighs, your nipples up and you, rubbing against your blanket. Eyes closed, focused on your pleasure, a pout on your face because you tried to better, you couldn't see him. Discreetly, he came closer, then just as he let his hands go on your thighs, he murmured: "I'm here, love".

You jumped slightly and then your cheeks flushed with shame, embarrassment. You pushed his hands so warm, callused, so pleasant on your silky skin.

"I-I ... Tommy, you’re n-not allowed to be here ... Oh ... Oh my God! " You felt so ashamed that you felt tears coming to your eyes. What have you done? You realized you had just done something wrong, you had sinned. And the fact that Shelby was there, the man you were in love with, made it worse.

Seeming to perceive distress in your body language, Tommy grabbed your face between his hands and kissed every part of your face, whispering "It doesn't matter, it's human." He refused to let you regret, to let you feel dirty for the most human thing. In his eyes, sex should not be seen as something degrading, shameful. But it wasn’t easy to make you understand this, a little Catholic virgin. Meanwhile, as he continued to have a hard-on, he felt the need to act and to cum inside of you. How hard it was not to jump on you!

"Look at me." He ordered.

One simple sentence, and you executed. He looked deep into yours eyes as he stroked your cheeks.

"You’ve done nothing wrong.", he tried to reassure you. How you loved him so much! You drank his words, you believed him on words and your eyes stopped getting wet, the shame dissipated. And yet, you felt your intimacy so wet that it became embarrassing, the fabric of your white panties perfectly matched the shapes of your labia, as it became transparent. Without doing anything, it was impossible not to smell that odor... The smell of desire, of sex. The cheeks still peonies, you gestured in the hope that the fabric would let your sex breathe better ; it was effectless. You don't take your nightie down. Your nipples remained erect and, when he squinted his eyes, he wondered if you were as wise as you let him pretend, because he saw your pink nipples show through the fabric. An almost transparent white nightie. Without realizing it, one of his hands slid over his crotch. He holds back a sigh of distress. Never had he been so excited and even less, unable to do anything.

His gaze fell on your swollen mouth, then he pressed his lips against yours. Against all expectations, you responded to his kiss. You lacked of experience, but you learned very quickly. Tommy was leading the dance between your tongues and soon his body covered yours. He slipped between your thighs where his cock was trying somehow to free itself from his clothes, while his pants rubbed against your wet intimacy. His hands slipped under your nightie and caressed your breasts. Tenderly. With passion. With desire. He took off your nightie and then covered your chest with wet kisses, until he let his tongue do the rest of the work. He went down to your panties, which he removed with his teeth. He had a perfect view of your intimacy, almost devoid of hair, to his amazement. He got a perfect view of the object of his desires.

"Tommy... We can't... It's wrong... Religion forbids me to do this kind of thing before marriage..." you meowed when you were as desperate as he was, even if you didn't know exactly what your body was asking for.

"I will marry you, Y/N."  Your eyes widened at the revelation as your heartbeat quickened again.

Tommy was sincere. He was a man of words. You would become his wife soon and he knew your father wouldn’t say no if he asked for your hand. That was all it took for you to be transported to the gates of the pleasures of the flesh. The man released his penis from his pants and then from his briefs, which restrained him. The sight of his sex, long, thick, hard, provoked in you an immense wave of heat. Without knowing why, you felt the urge to lick his reddened glans with an intense excitement. So you listened to you body and leaned over his sex to place many kisses there and then lick the wet tip, covered with pre-cum. Tommy had never been so hard, actually it was even painful. Soon, he needed to slip his cock into your pussy! But he was patient, he wanted to be gentle for your first time. You would be the angel who would heal him from his wounds, for sure.

He let you experiment on your own, then he made you fall on your back, slid your legs over his shoulders, to start devouring your labia. Just your sweet smell made him salivate. He kissed, licked as much as he could. Never had he lingered so much on a woman's intimacy. He knew at this time, no one would hear you, because your parents' room was too far away to hear such sinful noises and everyone was sleeping.

When he was finished, he straightened up and rubbed his cock against your clitoris, your labia and then the vagina entrance. The fact that he would be the first (and probably the last) excited him even more. Finally, he penetrated you with a groan as you moaned. You were so excited that you didn't feel any pain. He waited a few moments for you to adapt to his presence, then he began the first back and forth movements, under your innocent moans. It was so good that you didn’t know where to turn, the moans gushed out of your mouth without you being able to contain them and you grabbed Tommy's arms so he wouldn’t stop. You never wanted it to stop. The more it continued, faster, stronger, with certain angles, the better it was. You could no longer think for yourself. Your animal instinct controlled your body. You just knew it was what you wanted: Tommy, deep inside you. For his part, Tommy couldn't help but growl, it was so... Delicious. Ecstasy without having reached orgasm yet. He didn't think of anything either. The bed creaked and pounded on the wall with his movements, but he didn't care. God knows he was refraining from fucking you with more savagery! He preferred to stay on basics for the moment, in the missionary position. Sometimes, he watched his cock come out of your vagina and pussy lips engorged with blood, reddened by the act. He saw Evil dirtying Purity; this vision gave him more pleasure.

The pleasure increased more and more. Orgasm was approaching. When the supreme pleasure swept over you, you no longer saw anything, you couldn’t hear yourself screaming in pleasure, to the point where Tommy had no choice but to put his hand over your mouth. His increasingly irregular movements as he moaned testified to one thing: he was also reaching the seventh heaven. His hands were encrusted on your hips, you would have marks. He emptied his seed inside of you, while your pussy contracted around him. A few seconds later, he pulled out and watched his sperm leak out of your vagina to stain your sheets. The sight made him smile, you were full of his cum and with all that amount, he suspected that you could get pregnant. Usually, he didn't cum inside, but with you .. The question hadn't arisen.

You could throw your panties in a trash can, the maid who would do the laundry would have no doubts about what you had done and warn your mother. Anyway, if you were going to keep it a secret, it was fucked up. Your sheets were filled with his seed and with that, your parents will know pretty soon that Tommy Shelby will have taken your virginity.

Tommy slept with you that night. The next morning, he engaged in a serious discussion with your father to ask him for your hand, something he accepted. So much the better because a few minutes later, your mother's screams rang out throughout the manor... She had just discovered that her daughter was no longer innocent.

Three months after losing your virginity, you became a Shelby. You had a sumptuous marriage, perhaps even more incredible than Grace, because this time, the two families got along pretty well. Mistrust was on the side of the Shelby family, they thought this story waq rather strange, it was going quite quicky… Linda complained to you, she didn't know how you could have fallen into Tommy's arms , “the poison of this family ", according to her, since she left Arthur. Ada was adorable. The rest of the family wasn't a problem, frankly, they liked to make fun of you but always kindly because they knew they would be dealing with Tommy. As for Polly, she did everything in her power to guess your intentions until she finally liked you. She liked your innocent side, you wouldn’t create problems and you were Catholic, so you were "perfect", according to her. She was the one who told you that you were going to have a baby boy.

Nine months after losing your virginity, you gave birth to a wonderful baby boy, as Polly predicted.

Subsequently, you had two more children, another boy and a girl. And in view of your young age, but also of your sexual activity with Thomas, the latter had no doubt about the possibility of the arrival of several other children… This didn’t change his love for his two eldest children, Ruby and Charles.

***

I hope you like your imagine, little anon ♡ (you asked me a lot of things, so I focused on the virginity and I hope it’s okay. Don’t hesitate to give me your feedback)

[livia-dovehallow]

kiss you each morning - Gabrily

based on the song “Blueberry Eyes” by MAX (feat. SUGA of BTS) [English Translation Lyrics] || @tsccreatorsnet || also read on AO3

Well, damn, you look so good / Laying there wearing nothing but my t-shirt / Your body's a neighborhood / Wanna drive my lips all around it

Gabriel Lightwood had never given marriage much thought. He supposed, growing up, that he would marry some day of course, in order to please his father and continue the Lightwood bloodline. It was not until he met Cecily Herondale, however, that Gabriel ever considered the possibility that he wanted to marry purely for love. And love did not even begin to describe the way Gabriel felt about Cecily Herondale. “Are you cold?” he asked her that night, shrugging off his coat before she’d even had a chance to respond. Snow fell in a gentle swirl of wind around them, slowly blanketing the London ground. Snowflakes dotted Cecily’s dark hair, dampening it as they melted, and more snowflakes took their place. She turned her head to face him and smiled. Her smile rivaled the beauty of the snow around them, Gabriel thought to himself, losing his train of thought for a moment.

“I have my own coat, you know,” said Cecily with amusement. Gabriel ignored this and draped his coat around her shoulders, admiring the way she nearly disappeared into it. He was left only with his suit jacket, but as long as Cecily was happy and warm, he’d endure the Arctic tundra. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, her head tilted back to face the gray skies. “It is so peaceful when it snows, as if all the sounds in the world just fade away in it. I can’t ever get enough.”

Gabriel did not answer immediately. Instead, he watched the way her eyelashes fluttered with the weight of the snowflakes landing across her face, and the gentle curve of her pink lips into a content smile. His heart pounded against his chest, both in adoration and anticipation. His body felt alight with electricity with her near him, a feeling that brought both peace and excitement into his life and he had yet to figure out how someone could feel both at once. A smile broke out across his own face. “It is,” he answered finally, his voice soft. Cecily closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, unbothered by the winter chill going into her lungs. If only he had a camera; he wanted to remember her like this; engulfed in his winter coat, her raven hair standing out against the white snow, moments before he would do perhaps the most fearsome thing he’d ever do. Gabriel lowered himself onto one knee. “Cecy,” he whispered. She turned and quickly flickered her eyes in surprise, expecting to look up at him instead of down. Her lovely blue eyes went wide. “Will you marry me?”

'Cause I'm holding my breath / Wondering when / You're gonna wake up in my arms / Head on my chest / My heart's beating / I can't wait to

There had never been so many meetings and parties in the London Institute in all of Gabriel Lightwood’s nearly twenty years on earth. This night was just like the others; full of important people wearing important clothes discussing important things and refusing to hear his or any other of the Institute inhabitants’ opinions on any matter while only begrudgingly heeded Will’s solely on the fact that he was now the head of the London Enclave.

Gabriel sat along the wall of the library, slumped against an old wooden bench that made him distantly consider the possibility of splinters in his backside. He listened to the conversations happening around him, waiting for his chance to put in his opinion on a matter and hope his brother would support him. Gideon sat at the important table, beside Will, with Tessa and Sophie on either side of him. Perhaps when he was married, like his brother was, he would have a place at the table. Taken seriously, welcomed, and heeded, as marriage was for men; not boys. The bench shifted beside him and Gabriel tore his gaze away to look. Cecily sat straight, brushing her hands along her skirt until it bellowed out like a lady before her. She wore no gloves tonight, as the Institute was her home, and it allowed for Gabriel’s eyes to follow the gentle curve of her fingers until they landed on the silver band she wore, engraved with a flame, and worn with pride. “Why haven’t you said anything yet?” she asked in a hushed tone. Gabriel looked up at her and immediately found himself lost in her eyes. “Said what?” he heard himself ask distantly. Cecily clicked her tongue in mock annoyance, but her eyes sparkled. “You are a member of the Enclave. You have a voice here. Why don’t you use it?” “They don’t seem to like the sound of my voice, I’m afraid.” She smiled, mischief slyly hidden in the gentle curve of the corners of her mouth. “Pity. I rather like the sound of your voice.” Cecily Herondale was not an adult member of the Enclave, yet. But, after several incidents involving one fearless girl and several broken floorboards, Will declared that his sister was to be an honorary attendee at Enclave meetings, if not for anything else, because she was his ward and he couldn’t possibly keep an eye on her if he was stuck in meetings all day. Gabriel wondered if anyone else had figured out that Cecily’s incidents were deliberate. He smiled back at her. “It’s late. Aren’t you tired?” She shrugged. “A bit, I suppose. But it is just so riveting in here. All this talk of weaponry reports and building remodels really makes a girl feel alive.” Gabriel glanced at the meeting continuing before them, then back at Cecily, who had been in the middle of a yawn and seemed quite determined to pretend she hadn’t been. Thirty minutes later, while considering declaring this meeting nonsense and demanding that everyone be sent to bed instead, Gabriel felt a weight against his shoulder. He turned his chin toward Cecily, whose head was slumped with her cheek pressed against the top of his shoulder, her eyes closed and lips parted slightly. His heart jumped as he flicked his eyes back and forth from the Enclave at the table and his fiancé beside him. No one paid them any attention at their spot along the wall. He watched Cecily instead, now, as her chest rose and fell with soft breaths. She was beautiful, Gabriel thought, and incredible. To go from stubbornly refusing to go to bed to asleep on his shoulder; that was his fiancé. He wouldn’t trade her for the world. Gently, and ever so quietly, Gabriel sank lower and adjusted her head so that it fit within the dip of his neck and shoulder rather than pressed along the sharp, bony end of his shoulder blade. Any business thoughts that had been in his mind were gone now, replaced with the wishful images of him and Cecily, married, in which he would one day soon be able to fall asleep with her curled up in his arms, her head on his chest. He would tell himself it was for her, to make her feel safe, but he knew deep down that it was mostly for him; to remind himself that he can be loved, and that by some divine intervention, he’d finally married the perfect girl for him. Then, as if life couldn’t get any better, he would wake up every morning and look into beautiful blue eyes.

Kiss you each morning / With strawberry skies / 'Cause I get so lost in / Your blueberry eyes / I'm running through my dreams to / See you in the light / 'Cause I get so lost in / Your blueberry eyes

Sunlight streamed into Gabriel’s eyes from the windows, waking him from a deep sleep. He blinked, momentarily unaware of where he was or what he was doing. He prepared himself to sit up and orient himself but stopped short when he realized there was a weight on his chest. Still blinking through his sleepiness, he recognized the pool of black hair and pale skin curled against his body. Memories of the day before flooded Gabriel’s mind; of wedding vows and dancing, gold skirts and wedding runes. Wedding runes. Gabriel turned his head and looked at his left forearm. A new, glistening black rune stared back at him, one he’d never thought he’d wear and had yet to get used to. His eyes trailed up toward his chest beside Cecily’s head, where the other wedded union rune had been carefully placed the night before. Blankets were tangled around them, soft golden curtains strewn closed around the bed in a secluded paradise. Finally, aware of his surroundings, Gabriel turned back to his wife in his arms. He slowly trailed his fingers along her bare back, admiring her in sleep. Her body fit so perfectly against his that he had begun to believe the stories of soulmates, and of missing puzzle pieces. Her soft pink lips were parted in content sleep; her hair spilled around her face like a painting. Scars from faded Marks dotted her skin, but Gabriel’s eyes were drawn to the edges of the matching rune to his against her collarbone. “How long do you plan to stare?” Cecily mumbled against his skin, stirring awake. Gabriel only smiled fondly at her. “For the rest of my life, I think.” A soft smile grew on her face. Her eyelashes fluttered before she opened her eyes. She looked up at him, blinking sleepy blue eyes, her chin planted in the dip of his shoulder. Gabriel’s fingers froze against her back, losing himself in her eyes, before she laughed and pressed her lips against his shoulder. “Earth to Gabriel,” she said. “What are you thinking?” “That I must still be dreaming,” he whispered. Cecily paused for a moment before she slowly lifted her arm and trailed her fingers against the rune over his heart. “You’re not dreaming.” She pressed another kiss against his shoulder, beginning a trail of kisses up his neck and against his jaw. Gabriel’s eyes fluttered shut, wanting to remember the feeling. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten last night already,” she added with a tease. His eyes flew open again, scanning over their tangled sheets and bodies. “Absolutely not,” he replied, meeting her eyes once more. Gabriel was unsure what happened then, but the moment he met her eyes again, he could see the rest of his life before him. Patrolling and adventuring together, without a chaperone, making the perfect team. Seeing Cecily’s face supporting him in Clave meetings, and the pride in his chest watching her prove her superiority to every other Shadowhunter in Idris and London. Even the sound of the patter of little feet across Lightwood Manor belonging not only to their nieces but their own children and grandchildren.

A ray of light cutting through my shadow / You flipped my life that had been dark / Maybe I'm nothing / Before I met you, I was nobody / I used to mean so little / My life before you was / Only hurrying through the day, yeah / Our days, our nights, okay, our lives / U-A-R-E-M-Y light, friends who support each other, each other’s anchor

“Listen, this is a great idea,” Cecily declared as she dangled from the side of Westminster Abbey from only a thin rope tied loosely around her waist. Gabriel looked up at her hesitantly from the ground, holding with a tight grip the other end of the rope after it wrapped a turret to do whatever he could to prevent her from hurtling to the ground. “I only have great ideas.” “You have dangerous ideas,” Gabriel said under his breath. “I am in a perpetual state of heart attacks.” “I heard that,” she called back, smirking, with a gesture to her enhanced hearing rune. “You always said life with me was exciting. I aim to deliver.” He shook his head, half in resignation and half in fondness for the fearless girl he married. This was not to say he did not enjoy patrolling with Cecily; quite the contrary. Hours alone together meant they could steal kisses without hearing the loud complaints of his now brother-in-law. But patrol was patrol, they were Nephilim, and when Cecily’s pendant lit up as they approached the heart of Parliament Square, it was now purely business. “I’m up,” Cecily called, breaking through Gabriel’s thoughts. “It’s clear, for now. Hurry!” Gabriel did just that, climbing swiftly up after her until his feet were once again planted firmly on even flooring on the roof of the church. The soft red glow of Cecily’s pendant provided just enough light to see her face; determined and fearless as always. Hunting demons with Cecily was starkly different than any other hunting mission or patrol he’d ever done. Will was all jokes and insults; Gideon a man on a mission and someone Gabriel had always trusted without thinking about it. But with Cecily, she was more than a partner. She was his wife and his best friend. There was so much at stake for him now on these patrols, something he’d never considered before. Before her, there was only Shadowhunting. To give his life to the Nephilim young was something he’d always expected. But now, following a demon through the narrow corridors of Westminster Abbey in the dead of night, unseen to any mundane, Gabriel had found a light in his life: someone who made the day worth living, too. Cecily had always been a natural Shadowhunter, but her thrill for the hunt reminded him of why he loved being a Shadowhunter in the first place. They spilled outside, covered in dirt and scratches, but alive with the thrill of another successful hunt. “Do you think they’ll notice that we knocked a plaque off the wall?” Cecily asked, laughing, as she drew her stele from her belt. Gabriel shook his head, chuckling quietly. “With the thousands of other plaques plastered across this building? I think it may be a while.” They were both perfectly capable of drawing iratzes on themselves, but it was their silent expression of love and duty to one another to draw the other’s healing runes. The Wedded Union rune was purely symbolic, but they both liked to believe that their runes were stronger when the other drew it. Cecily drew his first, against his neck. He drew his stele next, lifting his hand to cup her face in his palm to tilt her head and place an iratze on her own neck. He stopped as his skin touched hers. “Are you feeling all right?” he asked, concern flooding his voice as he applied the rune. “You feel warm. Are you flush?” Gabriel looked back into her eyes after finishing the rune, looking closely at her appearance to find any signs of sickness. She only smiled at him and nodded. “I feel fine, bach,” she replied. “You needn’t worry.” He furrowed his eyebrows and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Are you sure?” “Perfectly,” she breathed. Then: “I’m pregnant.” Gabriel blinked. “You’re pregnant?” he whispered, failing to restrain the hope in his tone. Cecily smiled brightly, her blue eyes shining in the moonlight. “Yes”—she bunched the fabric of his gear jacket in her fist and brought her face close to his— “I’m pregnant, Gabriel. With a baby. Our baby.” He pressed his lips against hers and held her body close to his, pouring every ounce of gratefulness and love into the gesture that he could. They smiled against each other before he finally pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers, staring deep into those blue eyes. There was a time when Gabriel Lightwood had once thought he was incapable of love, receiving or giving. Then came along Cecily Herondale, now Cecily Lightwood, with her name written all over his heart in permanent ink until there was no space left. But there was always more room for love. And Gabriel Lightwood’s heart made room that night for another name.

Kiss you each morning / With strawberry skies / I get so lost in / Your blueberry eyes / I'm running through my dreams to / See you in the light / 'Cause I get so lost in / Your blueberry eyes

Gabriel Lightwood knew before ever opening his eyes what was about to greet him. Soft giggles grew closer to the bed he shared with Cecily accompanied by bursts of little feet pattering across the floor. A quiet “shh” sounded from Gabriel’s side of the bed. He forced himself to withhold his smile, not wanting to spoil his children’s fun. Against him, he felt Cecily shaking gently with concealed laughter. This was not the first time they were to be woken this way, but they’d never complained. In fact, Gabriel hoped he would be woken like this for as long as possible. The next moment, small bodies landed on top of them, giggling and squirming. “Mama! Papa! Time to wake up!” came a loud, small voice. “Wake up!” echoed another voice, followed by more laughter. Little bodies continued to crawl and squirm across the bed and his body. It was growing harder and harder for Gabriel to hide his joy. “Papa!” came the first voice again, right above his face. Gabriel’s eyes flew open and he shot forward, grabbing his daughter and hugging her close, peppering her face with kisses. “Anna!” he shouted back as he did so, fighting playfully against her squirming as she laughed and laughed.

Cecily shot up beside him and caught their son in her arms. He shouted in surprise but did not fight against his mother’s embrace. Instead, he melted into her arms and grinned happily. “Mornin’ Mama,” he said. “Good morning, Christopher, my love,” Cecily answered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head full of brown curls.

Anna continued to squirm against Gabriel’s grip, being more energetic at five years old than her brother. “Mama, Papa, may we play in the park today? Please?” Gabriel smiled at his daughter and son, who pleaded with him with wide eyes and chubby cheeks. He looked up at Cecily, who wore the same face as their children. “I have a meeting with your uncles this morning, but how about a picnic for lunch? You may play after you eat. Does that sound like fun?” Anna and Christopher immediately nodded and flashed toothy smiles. Cecily reached across Gabriel to pull Anna into her arms so that she held both their children in her grasp. “And that, my loves, gives us plenty of time to get into trouble, doesn’t it?” she schemed, squishing her face against theirs. It was then, in the midst of their scheming, that Gabriel caught all three of their mischievous eyes, crinkled up in amusement and excitement as they cuddled together beside him.

He could only smile, and smile, and smile at them; his wife, his daughter, and his son. His family. And Gabriel Lightwood would always get lost in their blueberry eyes.

[nelson-riddle-me-this]

Film soundtrack: Camelot

I have not seen this film or listened to the album before, so here are my live thoughts as I listen for the 1st time.

NEVER HEARD BEFORE | want to listen to | the worst | BAD | whatever | not my thing | GOOD | great | favorite | masterpiece

01. "Prelude and Overture"

Something about how this begins - it feels like they cut an intro, it just starts and I feel out of the loop. Also, as is usual with Broadway-film adaptations of this era, the orchestrations are larger and a little bite'ier. Pretty strings. Got that 20th Century Fox string sound - but wait, this is a Warners movie -OOOHO WAIT IT'S Alfred Newman conducting [longtime head of the Fox music dept.] heheh so I *am* right. Pretty ballads - "If Ever I Would Leave You". OOH these strings on "If Ever I Would Leave You" are GORGEOUS. And tail out. Beautiful!

02. "I Wonder What The King Is Doing Tonight?"

Richard Harris is a lot friendlier than Richard Burton was in the role of King Arthur on Broadway - and I'm into it. Also, I dig the brighter tempo here - makes it feel like we are indeed on the eve of a momentous occasion (wedding). Okay I wish they'd play with dyamics more - especially on lines like "he's wishing he were in Scottland fishing tonight" or "he's searching high and low for someplace to hide". Missed opportunities for text-painting.

03. "The Simple Joys of Maidenhood"

I can't help compare Vanessa Redgrave to Julie Andrews. Redgrave doesn't have an unpleasant sound, but she's lacking personality. I dig the 'Bolero'y millitaristic snare drum. Much of the joy in Julie's performance is how she mixes surface-level sweetness, and conniving seduction (think Betty White as 'Sue Ann Nivens' on THE MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW). But Redgrave's performance doesn't seem to be all that thoughtful. Also, not a fan of that ending, it doesn't feel like an ending, "Oh, it's over! That was it?", but perhaps it makes more sense with picture.

04. "Camelot and the Wedding Ceremony"

Nice bassoon. ?harpsichord?? So far this arrangement is the closest to the Broadway. I wish the strings were legato/slurred on "by order Summer lingers through September". Maybe I am too mickey-mouse'y with the text painting I want, but I prefer specificity. I like the pulling back the tempo a bit there. Love these woodwind lines! Oooh love it again, we're pulling the tempo down, dynamics, and slurring. Love it. Build. Build back up! YES! Lovely! OOoh this little Medievel winds passage! And the chorus! Oh those woodwinds are gorgeous. I need to learn more about them - recorders??? At first the singers didn't sound especially English, more American. As I listen more, their pronunciation is pretty English. But perhaps the harmonies are very American - like what you'd hear in a Disney movie or Mancini score of the era - so even sung with appropriate pronunciation they sound American?

05. "C'est Moi"

Frano Nero. Never heard of him. He's fine, but feels like a step-down from Robert Goulet. He lacks that clear strong edge that Goulet has. He's not as commanding. When Goulet praises himself, I buy it. Like he has the confidence and strength to really sell what he's singing. This man isn't selling me. Maybe that's a choice - maybe they want us to see him as a phony who's over-selling himself. But I feel like I still have that with Goulet and it's better because you feel like you're reading beetween the lines a little more - like resisting an extremely good/slick car salesman.

06. "The Lusty Month of May"

Nice opening. Pretty. I love the slower tempo for this - enhances the seductivness. Gorgeous strings. And we accel! Nice! Good ?harpsichord? Now I still don't like her as much as Julie, but Redgrave works better here than in "The Simple Joys of Maidenhood", staightforward lustiness is a little easier. This 3' section is nice, though I wish it were faster - a merry-go-round, but slightly unhinged.

07. "Follow Me and Children's Chorus"

Gorgeous, tinkly. Gorgeous chorus. They're stereo ping-ponging the choirs!!!! It's really effective. Oh and the childrens chorus is so sweet. This is a completely different approach than the OBC, but it works so well. Helps that this is an utterly divine song. Favorite track on the album so far, probably to remain so. HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS TRACK.

08. "How To Handle A Woman"

Oooh he's upset and we're fast! This works! Even if he's generally warmer than Burton, Harris can still do angry! And pull it back, sweet and intimate. Oooh this whisper'y smolder bit O.o and now we're past the intro. I kind of like Harris better than Burton - his warmth is really an asset for this character. Oh yikes that Merlin line is very sexist :/.

09. "Take Me To The Fair"

The tempo is - not sure if it's even slower, but it's looser, and I don't like that. The precisely on-the-beat phrasing of the OBC (both vocally and instrumentally) communicates that Guenevere has this all planned out, it's an act, it's a trap, she's manipulating these silly men. Oh, the transition from "well, Sir Sagramore" to "you may sit BY me at the ball" is awful - either she just keeps going through it (but in a weird way) or they did a pickup and spliced her in there so she's slightly overlapping. Sorry Alfred Newman, but this is not IT. Who cast Redgrave? Who thought casting a non-singing actress in a role originally played by a remarkably strong actress-singer? I like the little harpsichord section. Worst Redgrave number so far. An insult to the OBC. I promise this is a good song, got listen to the cast album

10. "If Ever I Would Leave You"

Oh, so we're right into it! Nero's lack of boldness as compared to Goulet kind of works here - sweeter and softer for this intimate love song. Lots of this arrangement is just imitative of the vocal - which is nice but can get a little tiresome when it's not really in-the-pocket. Still this man doesn't have the presence that Goulet does. He just doesn't command your attention. Like this string interlude. Different. Flute :) adding ?oboe? under it. Violins. Now violas? I like it. Oh and I think the violins are doing finger tremolos. Great! The new interludes on this album are gorgeous, when the film people really get to go off and do their own thing, it's great. And are we back to the vocal? Yes, this works. Oh these strings are GORGEOUS. I miss the ?timpani? hits of the original, but actually given that Nero is not as powerful a vocalist, letting the strings lead those hits is a good choice.

11. "What Do the Simple Folk Do?"

Oigg Redgrave. Like the harpsichord and very 'royal' woodwinds. And tambourine. Very medieval. Yay, we DO get a whistling section! This is adorable :) I like this. BOOO Vanessa!!! Oh, I like the "their own folk - throne folk" rhyme, don't remember that from the OBC. Oh and Harris can get big and bold too!!! I really love Richard Harris in this. HE HAS THE RANGE. Oh, is that Marni Nixon? Sounds like her. Did you know the film composer Bronislau Kaper gave her her first break? He needed someone to dub ?Virginia O'Brien?'s singing voice for some picture, and looked in vain until some paige at the studio recommended her fellow-paige, Nixon, and the rest is history! I like this ending! Harris really carries this song on his back.

12. "I Loved You Once In Silence"

The guitar is neat, very different from the OBC - though I confess I don't remember this song as much as the others. See this is something Redgrave can do. Her soft kind of weak voice works for something intimate and straightforward like this. Still, I don't like her voice and every once in a while something in her tone feels so amaeturish that it bugs me. Oh dear, only Redgrave and Nero together. :( they just both seem like space-cases. They're not compelling. Perhaps they have screen presence, but they don't have audio presence.

13. "Guenevere"

Oooh love these ?string harmonics?! Eerie. Like this! The studio chorus is great. Some of the strings are too loud - I suspect that's just a mix issue. Oh I love the tambourine on 2 and 4! I love how large this sounds! That ?horn line? kinda steps on the male vocalists there. Oh I really love every spot the tambourine is here, huh! OH YES! BUILD! GLORIOUS!!!! Oh and the bell.... let the bell toll....... yesesssssssssssss........ fade..... Second-favorite track!

14. "Finale Ultimo" [Camelot (Reprise)]

Aww, Dicky Harris is sad :'( but I love the harp here playing the brass/w.w. figures we heard in "Camelot". Nice clarinets. And the guitar. Nice snare rolls. And here's the big finale! Big chorus! Oooh these harmonies have such body. Love hearing them linger. Get soft. BIG AGAIN! BIG DISNEY MOVIE ENDING!!!!!!!!

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

Ultimately it's not as tight or well-cast as the original Broadway cast album. Vanessa Redgrave is not a good Guenevere - she lacks the spark, sacharine underhandedness, deliberateness, and vocal chops that Julie Andrews brought to the role; and she doesn't supply anything meaningful in their place. Franco Nero is a watered-down Lancelot and lacks the commanding presence and powerful voice that made Robert Goulet so effective [I did some research and it seems Lancelot's singing voice was dubbed by Gene Merlino]. -2 for them, but +1 for Richard Harris, who brings a warmth to King Arthur that Richard Burton lacks, and yet he is powerful, commanding, even angry when he needs to be. The studio chorus is GORGEOUS and truly one of this album's great strenths. The arrangements/orchestrations are very pretty, though don't always feel as thought-out as the OBC. It's likely a larger orchestra, so I understand that things might not be as tight and you might want to take tempos down for that reason, but it really waters down a few numbers. Ultimately this is an uneven album, the OBC is far better. But at the very least I recommend this version of "Follow Me".

[justforbooks]

Why do we read? The wealth of genres available suggests that some of us read for comfort, escapism, knowledge, or to improve ourselves. Whilst these are all perfectly valid reasons, it’s also worth thinking about reading about themes, perspectives, and societies that go beyond our own comfort zones.

During the Covid-19 pandemic, it has been estimated by the proofreading service, Global English Editing, that 35% of the people in the world have read more books than usual this year.

With normality disrupted, is it no wonder we have turned to books more? Books can give us all sorts of benefits, but when thinking about our reading habits during a pandemic, it is worth looking at this from a mental health perspective.

The Benefits of Reading — But Why It Should Also Challenge Us

Reading can force us to be mindful, take us away from the blaring digital world that we have become more reliant on, and force us into the present by talking one page at a time. “Bibliotherapy” is a relatively new form of reading therapy being used in clinics, libraries, and schools to promote recovery in people with mental health difficulties in some places in the world.

With these mental health benefits in mind, it is one explanation for why so many of us have taken to reading during the pandemic. But reading to improve our mental health can also be coupled with challenging and educating ourselves. Reading fiction is one of the best ways to do this. Not only are you benefiting from its natural escapism, but in many cases, fiction forces you to put yourself within the shoes of others.

A central theme with my reading habits in 2020 was choosing books that challenged me. In this respect — the books that follow have forced me to go beyond what’s comfortable — as I have learnt about different issues experienced by characters I wouldn’t necessarily encounter in my daily life.

Each has changed my perspective on a range of issues — highlighting why it’s important to read books that challenge us.

An American Marriage, Tayari Jones

Literary fiction

Celestial and Roy are a newlywed couple — for a brief moment — they indulge in the feeling of being married and the excitement of spending the rest of their lives together. Until one incident changes everything. Roy is wrongly accused of a crime he didn’t commit and is sent to jail for the rape of a woman.

“Much of life is timing and circumstance, I see that now.”

Whilst in jail, Roy desperately tries to keep his new marriage alive, whilst sending Celestial letters and hoping for a better future. But Celestial cannot continue to live her life waiting for theirs to start. In many ways, it is a story about relationships and love but heavily tainted by the blatant racism that lays at the heart of the American criminal justice system and how it has the power to alter lives.

Why Did it Challenge Me?

Reading this as a white woman, made me realise this situation would never happen to me. Reading from the point of view of Roy, a black man, wrongly convicted for a crime he didn’t commit purely on the grounds of his race and circumstance — was a learning experience for me.

I grew up in a considerably white town. Until fairly recently, I knew very little about racism and how it perpetuates the very systems that we typically view as ‘just.’ Therefore, reading about these types of experiences that I wouldn’t usually be exposed to in my life, was essential for me.

“Twelve years is what they gave him. We would be forty-three years old when he was released. I couldn’t even imagine myself at such an age. Roy understood that twelve years was an eternity because he sobbed right there on the defendants’ table. His knees gave way, and he fell into his chair, The judge paused and demanded that Roy bear this news on his feet. He stood again and cried, not like a baby, but in the way that only a grown man can cry, from the bottom of his feet through his torso and finally through his mouth…”

The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, Robert Tressell

Political fiction

The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists was written during the early twentieth century and tells the story of a group of Edwardian workers. Owen, the outspoken socialist, makes it his mission to persuade and educate the rest of the group on the importance of a fairer society. He tries to make them realise the extent of their exploitation and how little it achieves — but he is always fighting an uphill battle.

In many ways, this book could be regarded as a socialist manifesto. But in others, it is far more than that. Through Owen, as readers, we learn that poverty is not about misconceptions such as laziness, but is more often than not, a political choice.

It’s rhetoric surrounding the workplace, and the unskilled versus the skilled worker highlights how we still undervalue certain people in society. Nurses and cleaners make up the groundwork of our society; however, they are still persistently underpaid. Throughout the novel, Owen makes a case for a redistribution of wealth, workplace rights and an overhaul of the capitalist system which in his eyes, is responsible for the vicious cycle of poverty they find themselves in.

“Every man who is not helping to bring about a better state of affairs for the future is helping to perpetuate the present misery and is, therefore, the enemy of his own children.”

Despite being written long ago, it contains an essential insight into the reality of working-class, Edwardian poverty, poor workplace conditions, and poverty workers' experience to keep themselves alive. Of course, it is inherently political, but it also teaches readers about human and societal values. Such as fairness, equality, and decency.

Why Did it Challenge Me?

Despite it being set during a very different time, it made me re-evaluate all the problems within our own society whether that’s the persistent gender pay gap, poor sick pay, or people not being eligible for financial help during the Covid crisis when they’ve had to stay at home during lockdowns.

Above all, the descriptive scenes of the workplace — most notably — one in which a young boy, Bert, who is told off for trying to light a fire to keep himself warm — made me realise how brutal and hard work manual labour jobs in the Edwardian period were — and how little rights they had.

Such A Fun Age

Fiction

Emira is a young black woman, living in Philidelphia and trying to find her feet. She works as a babysitter for a middle-class, white blogger who thinks she’s all clued up on race. Through the perspective of Emira, the novel deals with the casual forms of racism and microaggressions that many of us (particularly white people) may not usually notice in our day to day lives.

“Emira had met several “Mrs. Chamberlains” before. They were all rich and overly nice and particularly lovely to the people that served them. Emira knew that Mrs. Chamberlain wanted a friendship, but she also knew that Mrs. Chamberlain would never display the same efforts of kindness with her friends as she did with Emira: “accidentally” ordering two salads and offering one to Emira, or sending her home with a bag filled with frozen dinners and soups.”

Switching between Emira’s perspective, and Alix’s, the blogger, Such a Fun Age is a poignant, comical and revealing portrayal of the present world and the half-hearted ways in which white people commonly approach the subject of race. Alix thinks she is all clued up on what it’s like to be a black woman, as she has plenty of black friends, and after all, employs a young black woman.

Stephanie Hayes, writing in The Atlantic, sums her character up brilliantly in stating that the novel, “satirizes the white pursuit of wokeness.” Furthermore, this switching between two completely different characters means,

“Alix’s myopia isn’t lost on Emira. Writing from the younger woman’s point of view, Reid renders white people whose eagerness to shed their blinkers results in fumbling attempts to identify with black people — as much to burnish their own images as to genuinely connect with others.”

Why Did It Challenge Me?

It made me realise that some of the ways I used to approach talking about race — were wrong. By reading about Emria’s experience with her boss, Alix, I was exposed to the realities of casual racism. Something, as a white woman, I am have never experienced myself. This is obviously something I will never understand, but after reading this, I feel more aware and educated about it.

Reading this forced me into the perspective of Emira, a character living completely outside my own bubble. It opened my mind up to how the daily lives of others can be so different. Most of all, it forced me to stop and think.

Keep the Aspidistra Flying, George Orwell

Political fiction

This book encapsulates the dilemma that many young, recent graduates like myself, have to deal with. Do you strive to embark on a career that’s safe and stable, or pursue something you love, even if it takes longer and involves many more hurdles along the way? Gordon, the protagonist, has a safe job at an advertising firm; however, he gives this all up to work in a bookshop, for a slither of his previous salary.

After leaping into the unknown, he tries to stand against the capitalist society he feels he is forced into. Deliberately quitting a good job, and living below the poverty line, Gordon thinks he is making a robust, political stand. He tells the reader how he hates money and how this rampant need fuels every part of our society.

However, Gordon eventually realises the errors of his ways — as he learns his actions aren’t realistic because they aren’t encouraging a change to the system.

“The mistake you make, don’t you see, is in thinking one can live in a corrupt society without being corrupt oneself. After all, what do you achieve by refusing to make money? You’re trying to behave as though one could stand right outside our economic system. But one can’t. One’s got to change the system, or one changes nothing.”

Why Did It Challenge Me?

In this current job climate, it was a reminder that at the moment, no industry is ‘safe’ and that there is no such thing as a ‘proper’ job. Those jobs such as advertising, marketing, retail and hospitality — that we were always taught—were secure and ripped apart during the pandemic. It made me think about my own plans and perceptions of the job market.

Additionally, Gordon’s inherent dislike of money and the capitalist world reignited my desire for a more minimalist outlook and society. After all, money is never the route of all happiness.

Reading fiction is an enjoyable form of escapism, but it can also teach us a lot about other peoples’ lives, and challenge our own ideas and values. We can often become comfortable living in our own bubbles and reading the same books we have always turned to.

But reading fiction can help challenge our own comfort and promote a more diverse world view — when dealing with subjects such as race, society and culture. By reading fiction, we get to be inside the minds and live inside others' shoes we may never encounter in real life. Thus, it’s a form of stepping outside that comfort bubble, a form of social education, and a way of understanding people.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Reunite Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date (and Season 2) which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

It’s vital to understand what’s going on in Season 2 so you wouldn’t get confused in this date. Do read this post before proceeding :)

Parallel World Dates Collection: Gavin // Kiro // Shaw

The date begins with MC standing outside LFG

She recalls her father telling her about their company receiving an investment from a four-year-old company which he believes will become a worthy partner in the future

Of course, that company is LFG

Back at the present, she muses that LFG isn’t as grand as the LFG in her memory. And that if everything remains the same as in the original timeline, she would meet Victor after four years

She recalls the “warning”: “Your unintentional actions may lead to irretrievable consequences.”

When she looks up with a bitter smile, she sees Victor across the street

I lower my head, countless emotions flooding into my heart - happiness and sadness... until a foreign voice enters my mind. 

??: Miss MC, nice to meet you. There is a message from the “past” here. CEO Victor, you may begin. 

MC: ?!

Victor: Dummy, what are you hesitating about? 

Victor’s voice rings in my head clearly. I freeze in place.

“Message from the past?” 

What is this... why can I hear Victor’s voice? 

The Victor on the opposite side of the road doesn’t notice my existence at all, and exits my field of vision. I press a hand to my forehead, thinking what happened earlier was a mere hallucination.

But his voice appears in my mind once again, as clear as day.

Victor: Didn’t you say you were going to find the old me? Do you regret meeting me now? 

MC: How could I regret it!

Victor: You dare to regret it? 

As if we’re having a conversation, I speak aloud, my voice overlapping with his. 

The faraway soft laughter gradually disappears from my mind. As though an invisible hand is pushing me from behind, I break into a run. 

If the future doesn’t replay itself perfectly while the world moves forward slowly, is there be a possibility that we wouldn’t meet again? 

With this thought, my heart clenches. Just greeting him shouldn’t be an issue...

If I simply watch him leave...

If I don’t get a future where I can meet him again...

I wouldn’t be able to accept it. 

MC: Victor! Victor!! Wait!!!!

I call his name loudly, failing to notice that the traffic light has turned red. 

A harsh whistle resounds behind me. 

I turn my head and see a taxi coming towards me, and instinctively want to leap to the side to avoid the impact. 

The expected fall doesn’t arrive, and the world suddenly turns quiet. 

I’ve fallen into a warm embrace. 

In slight disbelief, I take in everything in front of me. Rain drops remain still in the air. He carries me away from the impending car. 

That cold yet reassuring breath makes the whole world turn a little fuzzy. I blink hard and clench my teeth, not wanting him to see my tears. 

Tick tock. Tick tock.

I hear the stalled hands of time in my world start moving once again.

It turns out that my time only stops for him, and only starts again because of him.

I seem to have returned to a very, very long time ago. Perhaps this is an unintentional prank from the heavens, but it also feels like a gift from it. 

Victor: Evolver? 

MC: ?

Victor: You still don’t know? 

MC: ...I do.

Victor: ...

MC: T-thank you for saving me. 

Victor: You should watch yourself. Someone can’t come to your rescue every time. 

He puts me down at the shoulder of the road, but doesn’t leave. 

Victor: Why did you call me just now? 

MC: I thought you’d first ask how I know your name...

Victor: That isn’t important. 

He’s really the same as always. 

MC: I... I just wanted to see you. You’ve invested in my company - the film company you recently invested in. Do you remember...

Victor: And then? 

He cuts off my explanation coldly, crossing his arms in front of his chest, waiting for me to continue. 

MC: ...there’s nothing else. I just wanted to see what sort of a person you are.

Victor: Have you seen enough? 

After saying this, he turns around to leave, uninterested in my response. 

MC: W-wait!

He furrows his eyebrows slightly, but stops in his steps. 

Although I called him without hesitation, I have no idea what to say. 

I would never regret meeting Victor. Yet, I’m not content with having such a superficial meeting with him.

This time, I want to take more initiative to stand by his side. 

Meeting his sharp gaze, I straighten my back and look at him resolutely. 

MC: My name is MC, and I’m the future producer of the film company you have invested in. I’ll definitely improve the film company, and all the programs will become more and more outstanding. You will not have the chance to take back your investment. And you will not be disappointed. 

I say every word and sentence to Victor. The rain has stopped, and light reflects off his eyes, which have widened slightly. 

In the next moment, a large falling leaf is blown by the spring breeze, sticking to the side of my face. 

MC: ...

Victor: [soft laughter]

Victor’s eyes crinkle and the corners of his lips lift. Victor suppresses a smile, then faces me again. 

Victor: For now, being able to stay alive is your biggest challenge. 

While Victor is speaking, another large leaf seems to respond, slapping onto his face.

Victor: ...

I’m unable to suppress my laughter. A few stray tears follow along with my smile. 

Victor knits his brows, and I reach out with a trembling hand, prepared to pluck the leaf from his face. 

At this moment, a strange figure emerges from behind Victor and touches his arm. 

Victor: !

MC: !!

Instinctively, I rush forward to grab onto the mystery person’s sleeve, wanting to protect Victor. 

In the next second, the both of us find ourselves in a bar. The person in front of the bar counter freezes for a moment, furrowing his brows exaggeratedly. 

Man: Big bro, what’s with this “buy one get one free”?

~

MC looks around her surroundings and discovers she’s in a bar called “Mondlicht”, which sounds familiar to her - she saw this name once in her father’s records on Black Swan

The man dismisses the mysterious figure coldly, leaving the three of them in the bar

The man offers to have MC teleported back to where she came from, but Victor says: “You’re not worthy to be trusted.”, and tells the man to cut to the chase.

Man: CEO Victor, there’s no need to be anxious. There’s a man who wants to see you, but he isn’t in this bar right now. As for the reason why... CEO Victor should know it clearly. So, before meeting him, that man has requested that I invite you here - to see if you’re someone worth meeting. To put it simply... this is just a small test. 

While all this is happening, MC wonders what connections Victor has with Black Swan

Victor: I didn’t know of such foolish tests. Are you all too bored, or do I look very free? 

Victor... he doesn’t seem surprised to be here. 

Victor pulls MC to him

Victor: Sorry. Stay by my side. You’ll be fine. 

MC tells Victor to be careful and warns him that Black Swan could be behind this. Victor pauses, but quickly recovers and resumes his conversation with the man

The man takes out a deck of poker cards:

Man: As part of the test, is CEO Victor interested in playing a game?

Victor: No.

The scene turns incredibly awkward. 

Victor swirls the wine glass in his hand, bringing it to his mouth and pursing his lips. He doesn’t care for how the man would react. 

Arrogant and proud. 

Man: You’re making things difficult for me. This is just a simple game.

Victor: Even if I’m uninterested, you wouldn’t let us go. You’ve got too much nonsense. 

Man: ...

The man smiles, handing out the cards resignedly. After dealing the cards, he suddenly thinks of something, and balls one hand into a fist and taps it against the other palm.

Man: Since it’s a game, we’ll need a bargaining chip. If CEO Victor wins, that person will naturally give you what you want. If you lose... you’ll have to leave your life here. 

The air becomes incredibly quiet. I look at the man in shock. His eyes are crinkled, as though he just brought up a trivial matter. 

Man: Lady, you don’t need to be so nervous. It wouldn’t be fun if you’re too nervous. Why don’t we liven up the atmosphere? 

The man retrieves a set of darts, and Victor lets MC throw it

She refuses, but decides to do it after Victor and the man assure her that the dart game has nothing to do with the actual poker game 

With Victor’s guidance, she hits the bull’s eye

Victor and the man finally start the poker game

MC has no idea what’s happening

I have no idea what’s happening too since I don’t play poker, but I hope the translation makes sense: 

Both men flip over the cards in their hands. In Victor’s hand is a straight flush.

Man: CEO Victor, it’s not good to cheat. 

With a wave of his hand, a few men clothed in black suddenly appear, pointing cold muzzles towards Victor.  

Victor supports his head arrogantly, eyes filled with disdain. His cold fingertips tap the poker cards. 

Victor: Look carefully. This isn’t the club flush you deliberately swapped over.

The man freezes, then leans over to look. Seeing the black spades card, he suddenly bursts into laughter, clapping excitedly.

Man: As expected of CEO Victor.

Victor: Your techniques were too clumsy. Including these toys. 

The man isn’t angry. With a wave of his hand, the men clothed in black disappear. 

In the end, he finally sets aside his cynical expression. Placing his right hand behind his back, he gives a humble bow. 

Man: I should be arranging another meeting for you and that man soon.

While the man speaks, the guy who brought us to the bar appears. 

~

They return to the roadside 

MC: Victor, since this is the first time we met, why did you let me shoot the dart earlier? 

Victor: ...LFG is only a medium-sized enterprise. What reason do you have for running over and speaking so confidently?

I’m left frozen to the spot at his question. I turn my eyes to the end of the road, taking a deep breath. 

MC: Because I know that in the future, LFG will expand by a thousand times, and will become unbeatable in the market. It will have the ability to influence countless people. And you will become the driver of this force, so...

I speak my mind, and slowly lower my head as I continue with my words.

In front of me, I see Victor’s many faces - angry, frowning, smiling...

At the end, when I look up again, they form the face in front of me - somewhat young, and not yet humble.

So, I want to be remembered by you, and I want to become someone who’s most unique to you. 

I leave this sentence out, but I say it silently in my heart. 

There is a certain depth in his pupils. The spring breeze is gentle, as though something is slowly sprouting. 

Victor: You have so much faith in it?

MC: It’s not just faith. You’ll definitely do it. 

The corners of his lips turn up slowly. He places a hand into his pocket. In that moment, it seems as though all the brilliant lights in the world are in his eyes. 

Victor: Since you have the wild ambition of not losing future LFG’s investment, I’ll have to see what you’re made of. I’ll remember your words. I look forward to your performance. 

~

A few days later, Victor walks into a dark building. 

??: Welcome to Black Swan.

~

Eight months later.

I heard that Black Swan recently had a major change. A high-ranking cadre and a portion of the members left. The Board of Directors has also seen a reorganisation.

After many years, I’m now at the Black Swan building.

At this point, everything in the future has not occurred. The me of right now has not officially become a member of Black Swan. 

The empty meeting room is silent. Someone seems to be seated behind a barrier at the end of the meeting room.

MC: Sorry to bother you...

Just as I prepare to leave, an unknown device starts up quietly. The long table shrinks and becomes a normal desk. The barrier pulls open slowly.

MC: V-Victor?!

Clearly, in contrast to my shock, Victor is not at all surprised by my appearance. 

Victor: You haven’t shown me any positive evidence regarding your words before. 

Victor: Don’t forget what you said. 

Victor: Don't make me regret choosing you.

-

🌹 MOMENTS 🌹

Victor’s Post: Being able to draw a Straight Flush has nothing to do with hard work.

MC: Unlucky me is destined to never draw a Straight Flush...

Victor: You can play mahjong. 

-

Victor’s Post: Being able to draw a Straight Flush has nothing to do with hard work.

MC: I agree. After four years of fruitless hard work, I hope everyone won’t fall into this fiery pit.

Victor: Told you so.

-

Victor’s Post: Being able to draw a Straight Flush has nothing to do with hard work.

MC: Is there really no relation? Maybe there’ll be an improvement after five years?

Victor: You’ll still be this way after ten years.

-

Phone call: here

[romeo-the-cactus]

Narrowly Avoiding Feline Scurvy

The world’s fucked (again), I’ve got a dissertation to write, so naturally I’m back on my bullshit.

Reader is away on an off-grid mission, and Natasha misses having her roommate around to hug cook for her. Suddenly cat.

There is a cat in Natasha’s apartment.

This is unusual as Natasha does not own a cat, and, as far as she knows, neither do you.

It’s also unusual because the cat appears to be waiting for her, sat up straight in the hallway and seems to be asking her and what sort of time do you call this?

The look on the sleek black cat’s face is so reminiscent of your face when she’s late coming back from a briefing, or a mission, or a night out with Clint, that she shrinks slightly before remembering she doesn’t answer to a cat, shakes her head at how used to having you around she’s become, and, frowning, walks past the cat to take her takeout to the kitchen.

You’ve been away on a top-secret, no-contact mission for just over a week, she’s doesn’t even know what it’s about, only that it required you and your shifting powers specifically. It’s your first since moving up to her floor of the tower - after complaining about walking all that way (into and out of the elevator) any time you wanted to bug her - and she’s already really missing your company. And your cooking. But mostly your company, someone waiting to ask her how her day was with a cup of tea and an overly thought-out playlist in the background.

And if she’s been wearing your hoodie all day, it’s because the laundry got mixed up, not because she went into your room and picked it up off the floor because she’s missed the way you wrap her right up in a hug until all she feels is warmth and all she smells is you.

It’s only once she’s dumped everything into one big bowl, your voice in her head calling her an absolute heathen, and brought it to the sofa with her to eat while watching the kind of trashy she pretends to hate whenever you’re around, that she realises the cat is now sat on the sofa looking as judgmental as a cat possibly can, and when the Love Island intro starts she could’ve sworn it raised an eyebrow – do cats even have eyebrows?

Where the cat came from and how it got into one of the most secure buildings in the world seems like a question for tomorrow, so she turns up the volume and digs into her sweet and sour egg fried Singapore satay crispy fried chicken duck noodle rice on skewers rolls.

She wakes up halfway through Ice Road Truckers to find the cat fighting with the bowl, every time a paw comes out to try and get at the scraps, the bowl spins away from it. Rubbing at her eyes, Natasha takes pity on it, picking out a soggy prawn cracker and holding it out to the cat, who looks almost embarrassed as it nibbles at it.

She looks at the tv as she scritches between the soft ears.

4:37 am.

Time to properly go to sleep.

After a moment’s deliberation, she lies back down, emptying the remaining prawn crackers onto the floor. Her room is all the way over there and this time you’re not there to nag her to go to bed for the sake of her joints, so what’s to stop her.

10 minutes later, just as she’s dozing off, there’s a tickly nudging at her foot. She nudges it right back.

Then the meowing starts.

Natasha stubbornly covers her head. She will not be bossed around by the world’s most judgmental stray.

Then there is a weight on the cushion and a single claw digging into the hand gripping it tightly over her ears. That’s just not fair. Natasha growls and tries to tug herself free, but the demonic fluffball just starts moving around on the cushion, meowing throughout. That’s it.

She shoots up, swinging her legs out.

‘Fine! Fine, I’m going, I’m going, shut up!’ she whines, with all the dignity she can muster while wearing her roommate’s clothes, one foot in dinner debris, and a cat sending her to bed.

‘I’m going, Liho’ she hisses, remembering the stories that had always creeped her out as a child. Now it seems appropriate for the misfortune of this cat turning up when she just wants some time alone. Or time with you. Either way, she’s not getting that, and while your absence may not technically be the cat’s fault, she’s looking for someone to direct her grumpiness at and the cat will do for now.

The cat follows her right to her bedroom door, making sure she does as she promised.

Maybe the cat has her best interests at heart. That is a ridiculous thought and she really needs to get some sleep.

Liho stops outside her door, looking up at Natasha as if in question. Natasha scowls at them.

Then she thinks about how cold her bed is. Thinks about how much she misses you barging into her life and filling it with hugs and homecooked meals and warmth.

She looks down at the fluffy cat, sighs, and pushes the door wide open again, shrugging towards the bed. She quickly falls asleep with fluff wrapped around her neck and the thought in her head that she’d expected a stray cat to smell much worse and much less comforting.

Aside from the minor hurdles of waking up with a cat’s ass in her face and Liho remaining unforthcoming about how exactly she’s ended up in Natasha’s life, the two of them settle pretty smoothly into a routine over the next few days.

Natasha gets up early to train, leaving Liho the remains of her breakfast to eat (soggy cereal, generally, but judging by the milk moustache the cat has when Natasha returns every morning she (Natasha is now around 80% sure Liho is a she) doesn’t mind), gets back, pretends not to like the cat for a bit, then feeds her some sandwich and definitely doesn’t give her little kisses while she reads or works or watches more trash tv. Sometimes Liho follows her around the tower, and a surprising number of people either don’t notice or don’t care that the Black Widow seems to have become a Cat Mom.

In the evenings she spoons some of whatever dinner she’s cobbled together from takeout, other avengers’ leftovers, and her limited (to sandwiches) culinary know-how onto a small plastic plate which sits next to her own for Liho to nibble at while she eats. After a couple repeats of the first nights battle to get Natasha to her own bed, she accepts the state of affairs and lets Liho lead her to bed at a semi-reasonable time, where she falls asleep with the little black cat asleep on her chest.

A few days later when Steve and Bucky ask about the cat perched on her shoulder, Natasha’s explanation is mostly made up of (careful) shrugging, and some quiet smugness when she notices Bucky’s quiet chuckle at the name Liho.

The little smirk gets wiped off her face when Steve so casually says ‘Oh, I just figured she was back from her mission’.

That makes Natasha stop for a minute and thinks about the numerous times Liho has taken care of her, nagged her, and made her smile the past few days, and looks up to where the cat has stopped nudging at Bucky’s stubble and is now looking straight at her.

Steve presumably takes Natasha’s sudden silence as concern for your wellbeing, reaching out and grabbing her shoulder.

‘I’m sure we’ll hear from her soon, Nat, don’t worry,’ he says, giving her a pat.

She blinks up at him, plasters on a smile, then takes “Liho” and heads back up to your apartment.

She sits the two of you down on the sofa and, scratching between your fluffy ears, tries to get some answers.

‘So, the mission finished?’

You walk around indecisively, which Natasha takes to mean it’s complicated.

She sighs, her lips pursed.

‘I take it you’re stuck like this.’

You swing your head up towards her, a duh plain as anything on your little feline face.

‘Don’t look at me like that! You’ve not exactly been helpful yourself! You couldn’t even have tried to tell me?’

At that the cat in front of her looks down, stretches out and rests her head between her paws, adorably sheepish, Natasha thinks, stay on task, but you suddenly look downtrodden, look ashamed. Being stuck as a cat, unable to communicate, reliant on Natasha (who hasn’t exactly been the perfect pet parent), and with the guilty, frustrated feelings she knows you get whenever a mission doesn’t go to plan.

She’s never seen a cat look so close to tears.

Instinctively, she reaches out to stroke between your ears, and then instead picks you up and holds you to her chest, smoothing your fur and planting little kisses on your head, a stream of quiet apologies flowing from her mouth as you purr against her. That night the two of you are both too exhausted to make it to Natasha’s room, falling asleep curled up to each other on the sofa.

Sunlight streams into the living room. It’s warm. It’s really warm. Natasha is absolutely boiling, and with her eyes still closed tries to roll out of the hot spot, at which point she tumbles to the floor, becoming immediately aware of another body tangled up with hers.

She opens her eyes.

She immediately closes them again, one hand covering them tightly as she starts to wildly gesticulate with the over at the very sleepy, very human, very naked you in front of her.

As she spouts rapid-fire, incredulous ‘WHAT?’s in English, Russian, and about six other languages, you wipe the sleep from your eyes and blink up at the apparently freaking out spy sat across from you.

‘Mornin’ Tasha.’

She stops, lowers her hand, and looks you in the eyes with a look on her face you can’t help but reach across and pull her into your arms, ignoring the fact you’re currently naked as the day you were born.

‘Tasha, everything’s okay, it was just a weird week,’ you reassure her, feeling definite tears on your shoulder.

Eventually she seems to calm down slightly, and pulls back, avoiding looking at you as she shyly admits ‘I really missed you this past week,’ and part of you just shatters at the sight of this absolute badass, ridiculously capable woman who you’ve looked up to for years looking so lost at the thought of a life without you in it. You want to smother her in love and hugs and kisses and warm home-cooked meals and soft blankets and be there every day to ask how she is and prove that you’re not going anywhere as long as she still wants you there.

But Natasha hates wallowing in emotion.

So instead, you whisper ‘I miss you too’ conspiratorially in her ear, give her a quick kiss on the cheek, wink, and as you walk towards the kitchen with a shake of your ass just subtle enough for plausible deniability, call out over your shoulder ‘loved all the kisses but your cat caring definitely needs work, I’m amazed I didn’t get feline scurvy!’

Natasha Romanoff, ex-assassin, The Black Widow, sits back on her haunches, blinking, mouth slightly open, hit with the realisation that she is absolutely smitten with this dork.

‘The hell did you do with the salad I made?’ she hears from the kitchen.

A smile spreads across her face. Smitten might be fun.

[fandammit]

Look how long this love can hold its breath (1/4)

Part Ben Gross character study, part slowburn adolescent romance. 

*******

I’ve hoarded

your name in my mouth for months. My throat

is a beehive pitched in the river. Look!

Look how long this love can hold its breath.

-Sierra DeMulder, “Your Love Finds Its Way Back”

The first assignment of their Freshman year Honors English class is to write a letter to themselves. 

“I want us to capture this very moment -- who we are, what we love, what we hate, what we want,” Mrs. Allen announces with a grand flourish, and he thinks that maybe she would be better suited for drama kids in Theatre than for neurotic, type-A students of this Honors class. “I want us to trap it in amber -- preserve it so that in four years, I can give you back those very same letters and we can marvel at who we were!”

He sneaks a glance over at Devi and can immediately see they’re both thinking the same thing -- it's ridiculous and cheesy, but they’re both willing to go along with it without any fuss.

English teachers tend to have some kind of corny getting-to-know you activity, and despite this overly sentimental first assignment, he’s only heard good things about Mrs. Allen’s class.

So, that night he loads up his printer with his 32 pound bond paper (to show that he takes this assignment seriously) and goes to work trying to capture this moment of his life in amber.

Even saying it in his head makes him want to roll his eyes (he thinks Devi must be thinking the same thing, then immediately thinks about how he can make his letter better than hers).

He knows what Mrs. Allen said -- that this isn’t really an assignment inasmuch as it is a time capsule; that it isn’t a resume, but just a friendly letter so she can get to know them.

But Ben Gross hasn’t gotten this far with his GPA and academic transcript because he’s taken teachers at face value.

He doesn’t lie  -- he honestly doesn’t need to, really. His list of extracurriculars and hobbies take up nearly half a page on their own, and his write-up about his pathway to becoming a diplomat is incredibly detailed and specific.

It’s only when he gets to the final question that he hesitates.

What’s one aspect of your life that you think would make a fun movie and why? Describe it to me!

He re-reads the question, then re-reads his letter and frowns. He clearly comes across as competent and confident -- which is what he was going for -- but also a little dry. This question is obviously designed to see if he has some personality.

Which, you know, of course he does. He’s just not sure how to put that on paper so that Mrs. Allen will see that he’s a well-rounded, intelligent but not overwhelmingly dull honors student.

He thinks about writing about his Bar Mitzvah and Blake Griffin -- that would be pretty cool to see in a movie -- but a voice that sounds suspiciously like Devi’s pops into his mind and calls him lame. He thinks about the time he sat next to Drake in first class on the way to Toronto with his dad, and this time an image of Devi rolling her eyes pops into his head.

He leans back in his chair and wonders what Devi is writing about. She probably has half a dozen stories to choose from, each one more exciting and endearing than the last, and each one bursting with the kind of personality that teachers -- for the most part -- seem to find charming rather than obnoxious (which is what it is).

He’ll never admit it out loud, but even though he knows that he can be charming when he needs to be, there’s an easy charisma to Devi that he’s never been quite able to replicate.  

He frowns at that thought, then scowls at the rather wide tangent his thought process has taken.

The cursor blinks at him as an idea slowly takes shape in his mind. He writes about the long rivalry between him and Devi -- the back and forth exchanges in class that became back and forth exchanges of first prize and first place and ‘best of’ certificates. The sixth grade disaster of their competing Oregon Trail projects, which almost got them both suspended and lead to a long enough truce for them to divide up any extracurricular and project they might ever take part in.

By the time he’s done with his fictional movie, it’s overtaken his letter; the answer to that one question as long as all the rest of his answers combined.

He reads over it and edits a word here and there, rearranges a couple sentences. Not to toot his own horn, but there’s now a buttload of personality in this letter in addition to proof of his competence, confidence and intelligence.

He ignores the smug-sounding voice of Devi in the back of his mind telling him that he couldn’t have done it without her.

*******

Mrs. Allen takes all their letters with a smile on her face and gathers them close to her chest.

“I can’t wait to get to know you better! Reading these letters is the best way to start my year, and in four years, you guys are going to love reading them back to yourselves.”

She turns and puts the letters in a filing cabinet, which gives him the chance to roll his eyes without her seeing.

She turns back to the class and claps her hands together.

“Now this second one -- it’s not everyone’s favorite, but I personally love it because it lets me see everyone in a different light.”

He groans inwardly, basically sure that she’s going to announce some kind of partner or group project, which he absolutely loathes. It’s way too early for someone to dull his shine in this class (or, in the case of Devi, threaten to eclipse him).

Unfortunately, the second assignment is much, much worse than a group project.

“This assignment isn’t for you,” Mrs. Allen says as she starts to hand out the assignment sheet. “It’s for your parents!”

Anxiety gnaws at the pit of his stomach the minute she says it.

“For homework, I need your a parent or guardian or uncle or aunt or grandparent to write a letter about you to me. It doesn’t really matter who specifically it is, it just should be someone who has helped raise you and shape you to become the person you are today. I give suggestions on that sheet about what I’d like them to write about, but really, those are just suggestions.” She smiles brightly at the class. “Basically, I want to see a different perspective on you. This helps me get to know you better and whoever takes care of you at the same time.”

The anxiety has eaten through his stomach and is now going to town on his liver.

“And I know that your parents are busy people, so they have until the end of the week to complete it.”

He slinks as far down in his chair without seeming disrespectful, trying to figure out a way to keep his anxiety from ravaging his lungs.

“What’s wrong, Gross,” Devi asks to the right of him. “Afraid your dad won’t be able to write anything nice about you?”

He shoots up in his chair and glares at her.

“More like I’m trying to figure out how to make sure my dad doesn’t go over the page limit because I’m so awesome.”

She rolls her eyes and turns back to talk to Fabiola, as he turns his attention back to the paper on his desk.

His parents are both out of town until Friday -- his mom’s at some kind of rejuvenation spa and his father is brokering a deal with some artist named Clairo -- so he knows he won’t be able to ask either of them. It makes sense -- they’re busy and this assignment is stupid, and he should really argue about it except that Devi doesn’t seem to care about it in the slightest and has already put the assignment sheet in her binder.

Putting up a fight about it would admit to a weakness -- his only one, really -- and he’d rather drop out of the class or fail than admit that to her. Er. To anyone.

For just a moment, he considers asking Patti, who does meet all the criteria -- she is someone who’s helped raise him and shape him to be the person that he is. He dismisses the idea in the next moment, because even if she technically fits the parameters, he can only imagine the kind of pity he’d get from Mrs. Allen when she reads a letter written by his house manager. He needs Mrs. Allen to be impressed by him, not feel sorry for him.

He thinks about that letter over the next few days and finally comes up with a compromise -- he writes it himself, but from the perspective of his dad.

He then emails it to his dad, who signs it, scans it and sends it back as an attachment with an email that says Couldn’t have written better myself! You’re so smart! Love you!

He takes that as confirmation that all those things he said about himself as his dad were true, and tries to tell himself it feels just as good as if his dad had actually written them.

*******

The following Monday, he overhears Mrs. Allen tell Devi that her father’s letter was so beautiful and heartfelt that it made her cry.

He doesn’t hear what Devi says in return -- some just-right mixture of pride and genuine gratitude, he’s sure -- just turns away and pretends to rifle through his backpack.

There’s a pang in his heart that he tells himself isn’t jealousy, and an odd sense of relief when Mrs. Allen passes by his desk without saying anything at all.

*******

That assignment is the second thing he thinks about when he hears about Devi’s dad and the orchestra concert (the first thought is something that can’t be put into words -- a kind of bottomless sadness shot through with a concern he doesn’t know what to do with).

He wonders if Mrs. Allen will give that letter back to Devi. If doing so would be an unbearable kindness or an unspeakable cruelty. If Devi would even open it if she did.

Mostly he wonders if Devi is ok, and what would make her feel better.

After hours of thinking about it, he realizes he doesn’t know. It makes him feel sad -- or useless, maybe -- that even though he’s known her for almost his entire life, all he knows is how to piss her off.

He briefly thinks about deliberately tanking a test this week to make her feel better, then realizes that he:

A. Is so smart that he probably wouldn’t be able to tank a test, even if he tried.

and

B. Devi would know -- she always knows when he’s up to something -- and it would do nothing but piss her off even more.

So he studies his ass off and gets a higher grade than she does on their Biology test. Her nostrils flare when she sees the grade on his test, and for a moment he really does feel bad -- maybe he should’ve tried to tank the test after all.

But then her eyes flash with something that isn’t sadness for the first time in weeks, and he’s so absurdly happy to see it that he doesn’t even come up with an insult when she lobs one in his direction.

He tells himself it’s because having a nemesis who’s all in makes him a better student, but when she gives a full-on victory cry in class a week later because she’s beaten him on their English test by half a point, that same absurd kind of glee is back with it.

A small part of him thinks maybe he’s just happy that she’s happy, in whatever small way she can be right now. The larger part of him ignores that, and studies twice as hard for their upcoming Algebra test.

*******

He thinks about that letter again on the way home from the Model U.N. trip, as he watches her freeze the moment an ambulance comes shrieking down the street.  

His mind is a jumbled mess of emotion -- anger at the way the conference ended, confusion at the way things have seemingly ended between him and Devi -- but all that fades away in a wave of concern as he sees Devi force herself to take steady breaths.

He almost wants to ask if she’s ok, but in the next moment she catches him looking at her and snaps a question, and he’s so mixed up and off-balance that he falls back on what the two of them do best -- insults and sarcasm.

It’s comfortable, but it doesn’t settle him, and for the first time (maybe not for the first time) he wishes he could be good at something that isn’t a way to hurt her.

*******

He thinks about that again when he’s sitting across the dinner table from Devi, her insults still ringing in his ears.

Now would be the perfect time to hurt her the way she hurt him, to make her as miserable as he feels right this moment.

But then he remembers that letter, thinks about the girl whose dad loved her so much that talking about her made a stranger cry, about the look of misery on her face as the ambulance went by and how awful it must feel every time she hears a siren.

He remembers the feeling of wanting to be good at something that isn’t supposed to hurt her.

So he swallows his bitterness at the way the Model UN Conference ended and swerves away from hurting her, makes some charming jokes about how good she is at diplomacy instead.

She smiles at him from across the table, and later even laughs when he tells her about his awkward pizza encounter (he won’t say it makes him feel better than he has in the last 24 hours, but something loosens in his chest at the sound of it).

It doesn’t take away the loneliness of the day completely or soothe all his disappointment, but even though the day still stings, at least he knows that he can be alright -- maybe even good -- at something more than just hurting Devi.

*******

He knows he’s had more grandma juice than is advisable when he finds himself staring at his reflection and telling himself that he didn’t throw this party just so Devi would come to his house.  

It’s his birthday, he reasons, and people throw parties on their birthday. It’s what his parents wanted when they left him, and he’s nothing if not a dutiful son. Plus, he has the house for it, and the money for it, and the friends --.

Well, he’s still not drunk enough to say -- even to himself -- that he has the friends for it.

But having parties is what cool kids do on their birthdays, and even if he can admit that he isn’t one of them, he’s at least adjacent enough to cool kids to be able to emulate their behavior.

So, yeah. That’s why he threw this party -- to be cool. Not because Devi asked him about throwing one. Not because seeing Devi look at Paxton like he was a goddamn chiseled marble statue come to life in the style of Pygmalion set off a hot spark of something that felt like jealousy in the center of his chest. His throwing this party had nothing to do with Devi, at all, in any way, shape or form.

He tells himself that a half dozen times as he looks at his blurry reflection in the mirror, as he splashes his face with water in the hopes that it’ll miraculously clear his vision, as he walks down the stairs holding his fourth cup of grandma juice.

Then he sees her come through the door and it’s like his vision clears up completely (if momentarily, because apparently emotions do not supersede biology) and he feels a warmth in his veins that has nothing to do with the alcohol currently coursing through it because Devi is in his house and she actually looks genuinely happy to see him.

He takes her on a tour of the house, pointing out the memorabilia from all his dad clients, showing her the game room and the gym and the two indoor pools (one chlorinated, one a saltwater pool), and she’s complimenting it all without even the slightest bit of sarcasm and laughing at his jokes and mocking him without the usual hard edge to her and he honestly can’t remember the last time he was this happy and --

Oh, fuck.

He totally threw this entire party just to invite Devi over to his house.

[kyotakumrau]

ROCK AND READ 087 - interview with Kyo - part 2/3

part 1/3 here 

－ I see. This way, the more ignorant you are (as in less trained) the less restricted you are. The first time you had a performance together with the dance troupe Banyu Inryoku was in 2015. I think that the eccentric performance and the power of expression brought out a totally different heterogeneity.

京 That might be true. What kind of chemical reaction will we get by adding the performance of Banyu Inryoku to sukekiyo’s worldview? Me myself also wanted to see that. I keep thinking that it’s fascinating to see as various chemical reactions occur, now becomes very different every moment. For us it becomes super exciting like ‘let’s see what will come out of this!’. It’s not fun to be able to see the complete form [from the beginning]. It’s more like 'it became like this when I thought it will be like that, and then …’

－ I think by wanting to enjoy the surprise of what will come out you’re very genuine.

京 That’s why I’m not different from fans. I’m just not hoping for anything.

－Seeing the performance with dance elements incorporated in, you really get to want to know everything about what kind of story is being shown, up to the last detail. And then the curiosity is stirred even more. Is this not something you’re after?

京 Even for this I don’t really think about the reaction of people to us doing something like that. We really just do what we want to do. Even if the story somehow gets a general framework, we deliberately try not to deliver the perfect answer. Wouldn’t it be boring to have only one answer? That’s why one can think about it in many ways, when we don’t give an answer deliberately it feels strangely hazy somehow. I don’t want that. The way of thinking and answers will vary depending on each person, what is seen as right and wrong also depends on the person. If someone thinks this way, this must be correct – this also changes with each person. We could say that to feel things naturally, what someone felt then is that person’s answer. That’s what I think is good. That’s why even though it wasn’t something I was after [originally], I’m glad when it becomes like this. I don’t think I’m always right, so I really just want people to feel [the performance] freely.

－ Yet the feeling transmitted by sukekiyo is grief. You never go into a happy direction.

京 That’s the basis. I just can’t accept happiness. Why, I wonder this myself. I’d like to become happy.

－ Just feel happy?

京 Yeah. But I just can’t. It’s just my personality. I just don’t have a big capacity to be glad for people’s happiness.

－ You’re saying that as you’re laughing (laughing).

京 I just keep thinking that even if there’s someone looking always happy they must be carrying something awful [inside]. Well, I do at least think it would be nice if thing went well.

－ I don’t think I’d invite someone who thinks this way to a wedding. You’re not [invited often] I guess?

京 Hahaha! Just no matter whose wedding it is I think that about 10 or 20% won’t be good. Sometimes we can see a wedding on TV. Okay, yeah, they look happy, but I start thinking they might be using something.

－ We get the celebs news thrown at us all the time (laughing).

京 You know, I can’t go on if I don’t think like that. I think that people who are 100% happy are also 100% happy for others (being able to celebrate their weddings). But I’m not like that, I’m not able to do that (laughing). I don’t need to be seen as a good person. I’m this kind of person. It should be okay with one person being like that, right?

－ But why is it a problem? At least you realize yourself that you can’t be happy for other people. There are people who can’t judge themselves [honestly] and avert eyes from their own character.

京 Yeah, there are. I do see them, I do. I see myself as a worthless person. I have worthless values/thoughts. I ask myself 'why do I …?’ My personality is 'why do I?’. That’s why when I’m talking with other people and I’m often told 'you must be having fun’, I don’t really think so. The reason for that are my worthless thoughts and being too insatiable. I have so many things I want to do, there are various things connected. I have this strong feeling of dread. I keep doing so much but I’m not satisfied. Even when at a time for a moment I think at last I made something good, the next day comes and it already feels hollow. That’s why not being content always feeds the feeling of lacking. Of course I think that the things I created are good, but I constantly feel that if they were done by someone else they would have ended much better. I really feel worthless. But everyone keeps thinking I have it all… in various ways. When I talk to the people in the office they tell me 'aren’t you in a much better place?’ but I can only see it as sarcasm.

－ But from the viewpoint of other musicians, you’re doing some great things they wish they could do like having world tours or playing at festivals abroad. You don’t think it’s great?

京 Nope, not for me. It might seem great to someone wishing to do that, but I’m envious of people who only tour domestically. I don’t want to go abroad. My stance is, if foreign fans want to see us they should come here. It’s my worthless values, but why is it me who should go? That’s the abroad thing (laughing). I get it that people abroad want to see us, but in that case please come to Japan, why do I have to travel [instead of them]? I do not hate foreign people. There are just many problems [with going abroad].

－ When you tour abroad I bet travel is stressful.

京 Travel too, but even before that, there’s an interview still in Japan when we go to get a visa. Even though I don’t really speak English I have to answer questions like 'how long will you be staying in the country?’ or 'what’s your occupation? What do you do?’ and so on. It’s unbelievably stressful.

－ You say you can’t be content, but when you started in a band, you felt a joy from playing a show and satisfaction when a show got heated up.

京 We started from a place like that, yeah.

－ Since when have you started to have this thought of not being satisfied?

京 I wonder. Until the time sukekiyo started I was only moving around inside the borders of music, but when I got out of it, when I thought anything is fine [as a form of expression], the world suddenly got really broad. That was huge for me. And, don’t we get stimulated by listening to various kinds of music? Like, ah there’s world like that too, huh. When looking at pictures, some make you feel many things. When touching those things, from that moment I started to hope that expression does not equal the skill. Because of thoughts of being worthless I didn’t draw or take photos, expressing myself by doing those things always felt very embarrassing. But [in the end] I couldn’t not do it. There are various people, no one is the same. If someone naturally creates something, draws naturally, if something is expressed freely, it will never be the same as other people’s. I started to think it’d be a good thing, when I accepted that I don’t need skills to do those things, the stopper inside of me just broke. The things I want to do increased greatly.

－ You started to draw, take photos and also have hold solo exhibitions; you started to crave different forms of expression.

京 Yes. As it’s fine even if I’m not good at it. It’s simply me [in those works]. There are people who keep criticizing even amazing pictures, or some who would say 'I don’t know why but it’s good’, everyone is so different. Caring about it, starting from basics, learning from the very beginning, that’s not for me. I haven’t actually learnt singing or done any voice training. From the viewpoint of a teacher I provably lack foundations. But it’s not like I sing worrying about that. I just throw my feelings into it. Like, with many works it’s fine if I show myself, pack my feelings into them. By changing into this stance my world got broader.

－ And at the same time the lack of satisfaction just grew stronger.

京 Exactly. The things I want to do are always swirling around in my mind, there are always many unpredictable things. When an idea comes to me I just do it. Even today when I went to the office, while waiting I was talking to the staff, I suddenly got an idea, just like 'let’s do it this way’. And like that we could proceed with 2~3 items. There are many situations like this. I really value the inspiration that comes then and there.

－ With both sukekiyo and DIR EN GREY, the speed of your work as a vocalist is really terrifying

京 I don’t really compare things like that.

－ The members often say that. Even when the details of the song arrangement are not decided yet, the vocal recording is already done and over.

京 Yeah, that’s true.

－ So the information is right?

京 Nah, in my opinion I’m average. I don’t really check how fast other people work. It’s a basic thing, but I hate when someone’s late. I arrive 10 minutes early. I’m the type of person who wants to finish things as fast as possible and move on [with work]. It’s super rare that concert would start late because of me. Even encore, I just quickly change my make up and wait at the side of the stage. So even when you’re thinking we’re taking sweet time to come back on the stage it’s not me (laughing). And it’s not about speed, I just don’t like working on the things I want to do slowly. Everyone gets the same amount of time, but isn’t the time we have limited? Depending on how we use it our life from now on, what we’re able to do, everything will change. That’s why the time is so precious to me. Of course there’s also a type of people who create things after thinking for some time. I’m definitely not against them. But I’m the type who proceeds with ideas like …BAM! That’s how I do things, I’m not able to match the style of [carefully thinking] creators.

－ But you do see that expressing the idea that just came to you as it is, there and then, will give it a higher quality shape?

京 That’s right. Actually by not being able to express the ideas that come to me I get really stressed. I would just keep thinking about them like 'I want to do this, want to do that’, not being able to think of anything else. Very stressful.

－ I know that everyone gets the same amount of time, but long time ago, the top manager in sunkrad, Dynamite Tommy said 'Kyo-chan is a type who won’t be able to live very long’.

京 How mean (laughing).

－ He saw that you’re someone who lives fast.

京 It’s true that I’m often told I live fast (and recklessly), but from my point of view everyone else is just slow (laughing). I’m normal. It’s not that I do things in a hurry, I do them normally, just that. From my point of view the people around me are just super slow. It’s a huge misunderstanding that I live fast.

－ Usually the spreading of the music antenna (enjoying different genres and styles) gets worse as people age. But it seems that yours is just stringing up.

京 Nah, I don’t think so.

－ I think the majority of people think that the music of their youth is the best, their views got wider for a time to get narrow again [as they got older].

京 Ah, I get what you want to say. Recently I really got into Madonna. I only started to listen to her music a few years ago. I didn’t like her that much before.

－ You’re talking about her albums from the 80s not the current music?

京 Yeah, the old ones. The cheap sound of the 80s, I have it in my head. I made requests about that to the members. The cheap programming of that era, I really love it. I felt that as sukekiyo now we could somehow remake this feeling nicely. But it doesn’t feel like spreading the antenna. It also doesn’t feel like I listen to many different types of music as a study. It just feels like I’m living very naturally.

(part 3 here)