#so I might get in a couple more notes and analyses today might not feel up to anything or might swamp the dashboard in self-distraction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ah0rmone · 3 years

Text

dazai osamu x fem! reader

warnings: nsfw, minors, dni! dubcon if you squint because the reader finds dazai annoying but attractive, non-consensual touching (at first), enemies/rivals to fuck buddies I guess?, fingering, vaginal penetration.

there are literally two self-defence techniques from here and here

"Why it has to be you?" you grumbled looking at the person who stood in front of you.

"Oh, who else would you like to see as your teacher? Kunikida-kun who's doing everything according to instructions, even fighting? Ranpo-kun who won't lift a finger unless it's a murder case? Or Tanizaki-kun who's always followed by Naomi-chan?"

The obnoxious man in front of you was called Osamu Dazai and, to be fair, you'd actually prefer any other agency member over him. Sure, he definitely had combat experience and, probably, wasn't that bad at teaching, given that Atsushi was still following him. But something about him was off and you didn't like it. Nor that you had any choice, Dazai was there for a reason and that reason was Fukuzawa's order.

"Whatever," you sighed. "Can we get to it already?"

Today was the day when you were supposed to learn some self-defence techniques. Your ability wasn't really of a combat type, so you never participated in fights but it didn't mean that you had a zero possibility of running into problems. It was your own request to be taught how to protect yourself.

However, you didn't feel quite confident at all. You genuinely hated conflicts and tended to avoid people, so all of this was a somewhat essential but still itchy experience. Your sporty shorts and a skintight top wasn't helping the situation either. Especially, since a person with who you were going to get quite close physically was a rather attractive young man. You and Dazai weren't that close, just colleagues who barely communicated. For you he was just as attractive as he was annoying - you wouldn't mind having a fling with him but nothing more. Maybe it was the way he carried himself: overly cheerful, loud and noisy. Or maybe it was the things he was hiding: his true mischievous, manipulative personality.

Taking a deep breath you reminded yourself that it was your idea, something that your survival depended on and that you just had to get over it.

"Usually you're not the one who fights, y/n-chan. So what are we doing here?" Dazai asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

His eyes were gleaming with a vicious sparkle. Your power imbalance was uncomfortable to you. You shrugged, the feeling that he was a big cat and you were his meal strongly sat in your guts.

"I'm here to learn how to defend myself. Like some easy techniques. I'm not very strong, keep it in mind," you reminded with a well-controlled flat voice but some notes of irritation would have been apparent even to the densest person.

Osamu didn't answer, instead, he let his fake smile turn into a smirk. For a moment the room fell into silence and you could swear that your heart was beating too loud. Both of you just stared at each other for some seconds until the smile returned on Dazai's lips and the man joyfully clapped.

"Okay, gotcha! First of all," he took a step closer. "The most important thing in fighting is a stable stance. Stand like this," he put the left leg forward and motioned you to follow him.

Hesitantly you mirrored his stance, the feeling of embarrassment washing over you. It wasn't even the physical activity that you hated but the way Dazai was gazing at you. Predatory eyes were gliding over your skin like he was analysing your tiniest movements. Like he was about to pounce.

Just as you anticipated, once you've finished copying him, Osamu clicked his tongue and stood up.

"No, y/n-chan, you're doing it wrong."

You were about to argue but Dazai was already behind you. Suddenly painfully aware of the warmth of his body you tried to move from him but he was quick to put a hand on your hip.

"Let me help you," his hot breath ran over the shell of your ear making you flinch a little.

While you were contemplating whether you should allow him to be that close, Dazai had already brushed his palm down your leg. Now he was standing next to you, your bodies touching.

"There," he encouraged, moving your leg a little further by the back of your knee. His other hand was still placed on your hip and such a position was taking away any personal space you had before.

"Thanks," you muttered, feeling the light smell of his cologne.

"Now you're standing rather steady, aren't you?" he beamed with his hand still on your leg.

"Ah, yeah," you muttered, grabbing him by the wrist and pushing it off yourself then taking a step back. "Guess, we can move to the actual stuff now."

"Y/n-chan!" Dazai exclaimed. "The stance is very important, I didn't show it for fun!"

You saw the man's lips curl into a pout but either than that he didn't display any sign of irritation by you pushing him away. Keeping that in mind you decided that even though he might not have any ill intentions you should stay on guard.

Something dropped behind the door and as you inverted your gaze to the sound you felt your hair being grabbed.

"What," you didn't even have the chance to end the question instantly being pushed to the wall.

Your colleague's right hand was holding firmly your hair, the other one gripping your waist. You tried to push back, but to no avail - his whole body was pushing you to the wall.

"Dazai," you growled.

"Too bad, y/n-chan," he cooed. "How can you protect yourself when you have such a short attention span? Look at you - one move and you're helpless."

The sting of resentment piercing through your heart encouraged you to grumble through the teeth:

"I told you I'm weak."

"And stupid apparently," he gibbed.

"Listen," you tried to free yourself but instead just shook your hips clumsily. "If you came here just to insult me, let's end it, I'll ask Fukuzawa-san to send someone else," voice full with venom, you wanted to be as far from Dazai as possible but instead felt with dread as your hips bucked into his. You jolted forward fighting for the tiniest bit of space.

If Dazai noticed, he didn't show it as there was no reaction whatsoever. However, your little touch wasn't the only thing he ignored:

"Let me instead show you how to deflect it," he proposed, paying no heed to your words.

He backed up and you got a chance to glance at him with unhidden irritation. He met your gaze with a cheesy smile like he wasn't a person degrading you a couple of seconds ago. However, giving it a little bit more thought you exhaled and nodded. After all, you should've picked up something from this lesson, not just the revelation that Dazai was a total dick and you wouldn't want him to be near you ever again.

You moved from the wall and this time he gripped your hair slowly.

"What you want to do now is to grab my hand by both of yours, then stand back to the stance I showed you earlier, turn underneath the arm, so that you twist it and when the person lets go, just bolt. Got it?"

You hummed in acknowledgement. Perhaps it wasn't that difficult. Perhaps, at the end of the day, the lesson would be fruitful.

"Try it then," he prompted and then tugged at your hair lightly.

Following his instructions, you grabbed his hand and as you were about to go underneath his arm, he spun you. His arm was firmly holding your throat.

"No, y/n-chan, I've told you your stance was wrong," he whined. "Let me show you again."

"What just happened?" you asked confusedly but he already was spreading your legs.

Osamu didn't answer, too busy putting you in the right stance. And you tried your best to concentrate on how your legs were placed instead of his fingers brushing over your ass a couple of times, once getting a little bit too close to your clothed vagina.

"Just like this," he said and his hand slid up from your knee to your waist getting under the top a little.

From your point of view, the skinship was completely irrelevant but you decided to keep your sharky comments to yourself. For now, you were going to follow his instructions and maybe you could avoid the conflict.

Maybe not.

This time around when you were trying to deflect his arm, once again he outpowered you. You cursed as he said with disappointment in his voice (you were pretty sure it was the fake one, he was enjoying it, that bastard):

"You're too slow, y/n-chan. Do you think attackers would just stand there and watch as you crawl your way out of their grip as a turtle in slow-mo?"

"Dazai, I'd appreciate it if you-"

"Again," he cut you harshly, puppeting you around like you were nothing but a doll.

His attitude towards you was so demoralizing you were fighting the urge to end it here and there. Losing all the motivation and looking exhausted, you tried to go through the motion again but Dazai wasn't having it.

"Hm, y/n-chan, kinda feels like you're not trying hard enough. Should I give you a motivation boost?" he exclaimed cheerfully but before you could say that he should go fuck himself he had already pushed you to the wall. Again.

You were expecting harsh words pouring from his mouth, but instead, it was the kisses as he roughly pulled your hair baring your neck for him. The hot tongue travelled from your shoulder to the globe of your ear, prompting you to jolt. Once again you attempted to push him away but could barely move. His left hand was pinning your wrist and his right one was painfully tagging at your hair, cranking your head to the side.

"Dazai," you wanted to let him know that you understood his intentions but he needed to stop when a not so gentle bite quickly shut you up.

He was licking and nipping leaving hickeys at your poor neck. You were squirming and whirling under his touch not giving up yet, so he thrust his hips into yours. There was no way you could keep any sounds in, so a whiny moan escaped your lips. You felt Dazai stopping, a satisfied smirk on his lips, then without saying a word, he continued torturing your sensitive neck. Two things were clear to you: a strong lust was taking over your body which meant that you were slowly losing yourself and that Dazai had just started playing with you, there were more to come.

Dazai. Dazai! Realising who was the man behind you, you tried to gain back control. Osamu was just being a bully, whywere you letting him see you in such a state? He certainly didn't deserve nor your moans, nor your hips grinding his.

You were thinking this but it took everything in you to not just give in to his touch. While you were having an internal battle, Dazai pulled away with a loud pop.

"Five."

"Five what?" you mewled weakly.

"There are five hickeys on your neck," Dazai murmured. "You look so good, all red and moaning. When you can't even do anything. You've been definitely enjoying it, sure you still want to continue learning self-defence techniques?"

You widened your eyes at his words.

"Excuse me?!" you exploded. "What the hell are you implying?!"

With all force, you shoved him in the side with an elbow. Dazai hissed and even though the attack was fairly weak he let go.

"I mean, no kink-shaming," he put hands in the air surrendering.

"What's your problem?!"

It was hard for you to overcome your desire of slapping him but no way in hell you were staying in one room with him for another second. You bolted but Dazai was quicker, catching your hand.

"Where're you going? For a moment there I thought you didn't agree and wanted to continue," he quipped. "Come on, that was just one technique."

"Dazai, let me go," you growled yanking your hand free. "I've had enough of you today, I'm leaving."

You had already turned to leave when he pulled you to the ground. You snorted in frustration, your legs fiercely kicking but the lack of strategy played against you and there you were - trapped under him. Osamu was sitting between your legs with his arms pinning yours to the ground.

You felt unbearably hot and weak, your cunt throbbing against his groin. His face was hanging right above yours, so close you could feel his breath. Unintentionally your eyes focused on his lips then you looked up. Only now you noticed how lustful his gaze was. He clearly was a winner today and he was about to enjoy his prize. As you licked your lips, your recognised your mistake - now your eagerness was more than obvious.

"I'm just parched," you faltered but it sounded pathetic even to you.

"I'm sure you are," Osamu whispered, sitting back. "One more technique and I'll let you go." His fingers gripped your thighs.

Since his weight was off you now, you felt kind of cold. Not knowing where to place your arms, you were about to put them next to your sides when Dazai commanded you to keep them still.

That position was too sexy for your liking - arms are placed next to your head, legs spread. All of it without his control felt like you were offering yourself to him. Like you were submitting. The man was clearly savouring it because his gaze was so intense, in the end, you even had to avert yours.

Dazai clearly didn't like it, tapping your left thigh:

"Look at me, y/n-chan, how else are you supposed to learn?"

You slowly turned back, embarrassed as your eyes darted all over him until they abruptly stopped at his crotch. There was a visible boner in his pants. When Osamu followed your gaze and loudly chuckled you felt your cheeks grow hot and desire growing stronger.

"Concentrate, y/n-chan," Dazai said amusingly but the only thing you could concentrate on was the wetness between your legs. You feared it might start to be visible through your shorts.

"Look, if someone got you into this position," Osamu continued like both of you didn't want the same thing and that thing was to fuck. "You have to keep your arms straight and put them on your shoulders, like this," he gently took your hands and placed them as he instructed. "Then you should put your leg on my hip," he tried to do it for you once again but your leg was wobbly. All the strength you had was wasted on keeping your arms straight.

Dazai sighed theatrically but he couldn't keep a vicious sparkle in his eyes.

"Y/n-chan," he whinged. "You're such a bad student. Weak. Stupid," his fingers were slowly stroking your thigh. "Having a short attention span. Don't you think that you should have concentrated on learning some stuff instead of thinking about my cock?" With this question his arm groped your ass, pulling you closer.

He gripped your hips and you let out a moan. Now you weren't trying to hold back. You were already a loser, might as well enjoy it. Being a tease he was, Dazai wasn't ready to give you everything right then and there but you were having none of it. You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him closer by his collarbone. Osamu certainly wasn't ready for such a force so he confusingly complied.

"Call me stupid one more time and I'm leaving," you warned him, a confident smirk playing on your lips.

Dazai's face quickly changed from surprised to a perverse one. He dropped down on you, pinning you with his whole body and slammed his hips into yours. As you moaned he caressed your face, lovingly brushing your hair, and then whispered:

"I'm gonna break you, pretty doll."

With one swift motion, he put your wrists in one hand pinning it above your head, his tongue running over your lips then dragging you into a deep kiss. As you two were hungrily kissing each other you felt his fingers crawling under your waistband. You jolted, an instinct of placing your hand over his acting up but he was still holding you firmly. He ran one finger over your cunt but you were already shaking, silently begging for more.

"Dazai," you moaned desperately asking him to get down to business.

"You're so wet, y/n-chan," he licked your earlobe making you writhe. "I wish I teased you a little bit more," he started to kiss your jaw getting lower and lower. "I said that I'd break you but it seems you're already at your limit," he chortled, helping you to take your top and bra off.

"You look so beautiful," he murmured once you were almost fully naked in front of him.

Suddenly his gaze turned soft and you felt even more aroused than you before. Gladly the man wasn't planning on wasting any time as he started to lick, nip and bite one of your nipples, playing with his fingers with another. Moaning lewdly and rutting your hips you put your hand into his hair, curling soft strands in your fingers.

When he finished playing with your tits, he wanted to go further down, to place kisses on your lower stomach, but you decided to get back at him. Placing your straight hands on his shoulders, you put a leg on his thigh just as he instructed and squirmed out of his grip.

"You talk about me but look at yourself," you shoved a knee between his thighs, pushing it at his boner. "You were hard even before I started to feel something else besides irritation."

Now it was Osamu whose breath hitched. You were savouring your little win when he looked back at you with a dangerous grin. That was when you realised you fucked up. He quickly grabbed your leg and turned you over on the stomach. Laying down on you, he harshly seized your hair and hissed:

"A+ for learning the technique, but your attitude towards you teacher," he took off your shorts with pants nearly ripping them. "Needs some correction."

That was when the sound of a loud slap broke the silence of the room. You jolted, a gasp leaving your lips. You tried to crawl from him but his grip on your hair was strong.

"Come on, y/n-chan, it was just one slap. Don't you think you deserve it?" The hand that hit you was stroking your bruised ass cheek.

"It fucking hurt," you spit.

"Was it?" Dazai chuckled. "Say that you're sorry."

"For what?" you raged but another hit was your answer.

"Dazai, stop," you sobbed.

"Wrong," he retorted slapping your ass again. "Plus, if you don't like it why are you leaking so much?"

You embarrassingly bit a lip at his remark.

"A little bit of masochistic, are you?" Dazai noted. "Well, if you insist, I can keep on going."

You knew that both of you were barely holding it, so you decided to submit. Just this once.

"I'm sorry!" You squealed after another hit.

"Good girl," Osamu placed a soft kiss on your back still not letting go of your hair. "Now it's time for a treat."

And with that, he finally pushed the first finger into you. Since you were so wet there was a little pool under you, Dazai successfully pushed another finger shortly after. You quivered and jerked your hips begging him to move. This time around your colleague decided not to tease you.

As his fingers were pumping in and out of you, you were trying to push your head down to steady yourself but Dazai didn't let go. You were completely at his will.

"'m close," you mewled, your eyes rolling back.

Dazai hummed in acknowledgement and withdrew his hand. You groaned offendedly but heard the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped and then felt something else rubbing at your entrance.

Finally, Osamu positioned himself behind you and pushed inside, your pussy stretching obediently. The fullness made you gasp pervertedly. As he started moving your mind went completely blank. The only thing that existed for you at that moment was Dazai and his cock inside of you. He let go of your hair, one hand now was holding your hips and another one was giving attention to your clit.

You had no idea how he was still holding on but once your sensitive bud got stimulated you quickly come undone.

"Once more," Dazai panted while moving and playing with your clit simultaneously.

Even though you were tired, you had actually felt desire growing again. Osamu was just way too good for you to resist. You thought that the only thing he was chasing was his high, but he didn't cum until you orgasmed again denying himself every time he got too close. That's why when you cummed for the second time you did it toghether.

He rolled off you, but you couldn't move even a finger, for a moment you've gone completely numb. Your chest was going up and down with heavy breaths, your heart was racing. None of you spoke because you didn't know what to talk about. Especially, since you, personally, felt way too embarrassed to admit that you had just cummed two times because of an annoying Dazai Osamu.

"Looks like we ended in time!" Dazai chirped after some time and you looked at the clock realising that you spent here one hour. Just like it was promised.

"Wish I had actually learned something though," you remarked lazily, trying to pull on your shorts back. You just had to make it to the shower room and then wear your casual clothes. However, your pants were completely ruined.

"Well, if you think that you need another one, just let me know," you looked back at Dazai and his smirk told you that he wasn't meaning the self-defence lessons. You felt your cheeks grow hot again.

"Yeah, sure," you muttered, awkwardly leaving the training room.

From now on you intended on avoiding Dazai whenever it's possible.

Little did you know he had other plans.

#bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs smut #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu smut #tw // dubcon

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danidrabbles · 3 years

Text

OCTOBER 1: KNIFE PLAY

Notes: Kicking Kinktober off with the following. Thank you as always @javier-pena for reading this over for me!

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+!)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: SMUT, established relationship, romance???, sexy use of knives (...i hope), sliiiiightly dub-con but that’s Dave for ya, dirty talk, gags, 1 **** (dedicated to Kelli and Cris 😘) If I forgot anything important, please let me know!

The slam of the door startles you awake. Sitting up in bed, you listen to him rummage around downstairs, trace his path through the kitchen, the living room, and up the stairs. Usually, he’s more quiet, at least attempts to not wake you, but the fact that he doesn’t must mean that today is one of those days.

You know what Dave does; your darling husband by day, something else entirely by night.

It hadn’t started off like that, is what he told you once he came clean. He really had been a CIA operative before becoming what he is now. But this suited him better. He had tried to explain what that meant, careful not to scare you; that people paid good money to eliminate other people, that it sometimes got messy.

But you weren’t scared. You tried to explain that to him, and that mutual understanding, that you were the same on some level others might consider fucked up, it deepened your bond, your marriage, in a way you never expected.

The bedroom door sweeps open, his silhouette dark in the deep of the night, painted in shadows, but the little light in the room does allow you to take note of the blood that has dried on his face. It makes you inhale deeply, fisting the duvet under your hands and waiting for him to make the first move.

It’s one of those days, after all.

Dave reaches you in two big steps, his boots heavy against the protesting wooden floor, but waits at the end of the bed, gnawing at his bottom lip and balling his fists like he has to physically hold himself back.

“It’s okay,” you say, and as soon as you do, he’s on you. Sheets discarded, he crawls over you, pushing you back against the mattress. His eyes roam your face, and he seems to be looking for more than that, so you give him more affirmations. “You can take what you need.”

Wordlessly, he straddles you, a thigh on either side of your body, and you’re trapped below the weight of him, your arms pinned to your side, the fabric of your nightgown stretched across your frame. There’s a barely-there roll of his hips, and he’s unmistakably hard as he seeks out the friction against you. He reaches behind himself, then produces his knife from his back pocket. With a click, the blade reveals itself, glinting like a promise and fuck, it shouldn’t make a burst of arousal flare up inside of you, but it does.

“You would let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” Dave asks as he turns the knife over in his hand once, twice, before giving you an expectant look.

“Yes,” you answer, obedient, eager, honest—because you would.

The cold blade—phosphated carbon steel, as he once explained to you—presses against the skin at your collarbone, the tip just hitting the side of your neck, and you swear you can feel your pulse racing against the sharp steel.

You know exactly what he can do with it, what he has done with it, and yet you trust him, literally with your life.

“You won’t hurt me, not unless you know I want it.”

You don’t miss the way he grins, or grinds down against you, or how he inspects your body under his. In a flash, he hooks the knife under one of the straps of your nightgown and pulls, the fabric parting easily around the top of the blade.

An eager hand pulls at the flap of fabric until he can fill his hand with the soft, plump flesh of your breast. With a gasp, you arch up against him, crying out when he pinches your nipple and twists.

You expect him to go for the other strap, expose your tits to him and play with them until you’re begging him for more, but instead, he fists the torn fabric and pulls it away from your body, bringing the knife up to begin cutting a slit right down the middle. With each rip-rip-rip of fabric, the throb between your legs gets more intense, and an actual moan escapes your lips when he fists the last bit of it and pulls, tearing the garment in half and pushing it to the sides of your body.

His finger dips under the waistband of your underwear, grazing just where the soft curls on your mound begin. He toys with it, pulling it from your body and letting the elastic snap against your skin, before hooking his finger back under it.

“Want me to tear this off, too?” he asks, focusing not on your face, but on the task at hand.

You take a deep breath. “Use the knife.”

That earns you his attention, something akin to pride flashing across his face before he looks back down. In one rapid move, the blade slides over your hip bone and under the fabric of your underwear. With a tug, it tears, the elastic snapping and the material folding back, exposing you to his hungry eyes.

Your head falls back against the pillow, and you moan as he repeats the action on the other side, again when he rips the fabric from between your legs.

“Open up,” he orders.

You try to move your legs, open them for him, but with his thighs still on either side of yours, it’s impossible. Just as you’re about to protest, he leans over you, grabbing you by the chin.

“Open. Your mouth.”

His fingers find your face, and the pinch to your cheeks borders on painful, making you open your mouth with a wet gasp.

Even in the dark, you can see him smile, before he tilts your head back just a tick and spits. His smile only grows when you welcome it with a moan, eyes fluttering and body surging under him before you swallow. “That’s my good girl,” he praises, kissing your open mouth before stuffing your ruined panties inside of it.

The blade is back at your throat, and the pressure of it against your voice box abruptly cuts off your answering whine. With a rough exhale Dave sits back and begins dragging the dull side of it down your body. Still, you find yourself holding your breath, your chest jutting out with the effort. Chin to your chest, you watch as he circles your nipple, once, twice, until it begins standing to attention, hardening at the cold, gentle touch. He brings it back to the centre of your chest and slides it over to your other breast, flicking at your nipple. Satisfied with how your body quivers under his, he slides the blade further down your body, following the bump of your ribcage to your belly button and down.

He shuffles back, and despite the fact that his body is no longer keeping your arms incapacitated, you keep them pressed against your torso while he crawls between your legs. With his free hand, he pulls one over each of his thighs, spreading you open for him to look at, to take you.

The knife kisses the sensitive skin of your thighs, and he keeps teasing you while he opens his trousers and takes his cock out. His eyes fix themselves on your cunt, no doubt glistening with want, even in the dim light of the night.

“You get so fucking wet for this shit, it’s depraved, sweetheart,” he grits out, and despite the fact he says it like he’s scolding you, you know he loves it. Dave is a dark man in more ways than one, and he loves that you’re like this. Like him. For him. With him.

He proves you right when he begins stroking himself, a ragged sigh sailing past his lips as he throws his head back, exposing the thick, strained tendons in his neck. He allows himself a couple seconds of relief, before he stops himself with a long exhale, a hand trailing up your thigh to touch you where you’re more than ready for him.

He fills you with two thick fingers, curling and stroking at your slippery walls, and it’s so much at once, making you cry out against the makeshift gag in your mouth.

“This sweet pussy is going to feel so perfect around my cock,” he says, eyes only leaving yours when he slowly pulls his fingers free, groaning softly at the way your body pulls at him, working to keep him inside. “Would you like that?”

You nod in the dark, unable to help yourself from bucking your hips to chase his touch. The hand that still holds the knife is quick to push you down, the blade glinting dangerously close to your hip bone.

“Want me to put it in, baby? Want me to put it all in? Push all the way inside until you can’t think about anything else but how deep you can feel me inside you?” He slides himself over your mound, pushing until the head of his cock can smear wetly under your belly button, showing off just what that would mean.

There’s so much you wish you could tell him right now. That yes, you want it. That you want him so badly to just take what he wants from you, here, like this, between the shreds of your clothes where you’re spread for the taking. That this ‘depraved shit’ does make you wet, it does when it’s him, when he uses you, when he makes it hurt.

But your affirmation is suppressed against the fabric in your mouth, nothing but incoherent, muffled babbles filling the bedroom.

And yet, it’s like he can tell exactly what you’d been thinking, because the knife hits the floor with a clatter, and if he gave you any time, you might be able to analyse the sudden surge of emotion that flows through you at the idea.

But he doesn’t give you that time. The sound of the blade startles you almost as much as the fat tip of his cock notching at your entrance, as the slide of him inside, as the sharp thrust that makes his thighs slap against the back of yours. He pushes you up the mattress with the force of it, and your hand flies up to press a palm against the headboard to keep your head from knocking against it.

“Fucking Christ,” he sighs, stilling for a second to revel in the tight squeeze of your pussy before he draws back and spears himself through your slick walls - again, again, again.

“I’m gonna make this pussy come,” he promises, voice strained. “I’m gonna make it flood my cock and then I’m gonna cover you in my come,” he adds, a hand dragging over your torso, thumb and pinkie catching on your hardened nipples before he settles his hand on your hip to pull you down against him.

The head of his cock knocks against the button of your womb with each thrust, and at your silenced keens, he falls down to a forearm, eyes boring into yours as he continues to fuck you. “I’ve got you, baby,” he assures.

Your hand curls around his bicep, fingernails digging into the fabric of his long-sleeved top. It’s wet, warm, no doubt evidence of his successful mission, and that thought, your body’s response to it, eases the glide of him inside you.

“I’ve got you,” he repeats, his hand leaving your hip to slide between your legs, to draw maddening circles around your slippery, puffy clit, and with the way he’s been working you up, you already know it will take no time at all. “You know that, right?”

You nod with a muffled groan, focusing on the way he stretches you open and plays with your clit, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes with how hard you squeeze them shut as it builds—as it all builds.

You know.

Thank you for reading! I hope to see you all tomorrow for October 2: Stripping. Anyone who guesses correctly which character I’ve written for will get a sneak peek at the fic in their DMs😌

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#dani writing #kinktober 2021 #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #the equalizer 2 #fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

Text

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and sex. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: The story is placed between season 1 and season 2. Thank you for everyone that encouraged me to keep going. I have to wait for my local drop of serotonin to get fully Laszloed to go through this.

Lyra’s Contellation, Illustration taken from Uranographia by Johann Bode

Routine. Routine is comfort. Habit stabilises the character.

If you follow a routine, you won’t ever be victim of imprudence, of evil jokes of fate. The stability earned through calculated and repeated actions brings a sense of fulfilment that forbids other thoughts to come bashing in, breaking rules, breaking hopes that a solid scheduled routine forbids to have. I take my time to begin this week, I planned the things to do, the next steps for the case, the people to meet, the resources I am allowed to contemplate. I feel good, I feel back to myself and the events of the weekend seem far from me and my own perception. I probably got ahead of myself, carried by some instinctual though and random rush of emotion, to be always in contact with the same people and mostly kids probably doesn’t help my stance in the presence of other adults. I feel silly now reading back the last page, I felt tempted to tear it off, but to keep it there should be a small memento of not losing my temper so easily. I read it over and over and I know I am not as charmed as I thought I was. I am just lonely. I have always been and it is normal to face ups and downs even for a man of my age who is more accustomed to it. To desire a partner is a natural instinct, to find somebody attractive is meant by nature, it is the body calling for the natural fulfilment of the reason we are put on this very Earth. But even in a state of nature my own condition would be forbidding me to be part of the natural process of growing my own kind. I am the type of male that would be excluded because of his impossibility to give the protection to the pack, therefore it is just more reasonable to me to adapt to my condition. No matter what my Potentia generandi might be (the ability to procreate).

With all the smugness that characterises him, Niki showed off that he passed my challenge. But to be really of an help to his antics I didn’t show any kind of surprise. I treated him like he did the bare minimum, like he didn’t prove me any kind of superiority. He has a natural attitude toward challenging the figure of power, he is trying to overpower me, but I won’t satisfy his need. I have noticed he has a very technical brain, he finds ways to solve problems in ingenious way and not by throwing himself into the task. I proceeded giving him to work on a clock, an old broken one we had in the institute, one of the kids hit it with a ball years ago and nobody ever worked on repairing it. I gave him the clock, a couple of screwdrivers and a book. He called me a number of German names I won’t transcribe, but it gave me a certain amount of satisfaction. If my intuitions are right, I am sure the clock will be repaired by next week.

Analysis of the victim’s body through John’s eyes. The drawings and sketches are as detailed as I requested, all of this thanks to you joining him. I deal with art critic section, I am used to notice these things. You assure me, you play yourself low and I wonder why, nevertheless you did notice things neither John or I did, which pleased me. It fooled me, distracted me from my purpose to not give in to your witchery, as I leaned closer watching your pale hand move across the pages tracing this or that line, showing how this must be done with the killer on this side and not that side, with words so deliciously elaborate, your way of composing your speech is compelling, you could sell the drawing of a kid like it was a Botticelli. I noticed the shape of your hands, the way you move them, I wonder if you play an instrument, or played, some habits just stick with you through life. I focused on taking notes, your ideas and instructions giving me a new point of view, a new stimulus. What if that is the only way the killer can communicate? Or what if this is the communication that works for him? Could our killer be mute or deaf? Or that’s how society made him feel? This man, or woman, needs a listener and I am afraid that now, since he got our attention and the public’s, he won’t stop. Another killing could be just as close.

Scheduled: meeting with the parents of Alex Garel for new admission, Monday next week at 11 am. Love at first is a fetish and like all fetishes it is based onto an object that hides a deeper meaning, like gloves mean hands, to love at first sight means to see somebody that you think, and think only, to have the chance to share not only a sensual kind of bond, but an intellectual. Love at first sight is based onto not knowing someone well enough, but having the time to idealise most of that someone. I can see why I feel this attraction, using a particular phrase that Sara often mutters when investigating: you tick all the boxes. I know you do, your beauty is everything but conventional, you’re the kind of face that painters would paint and musicians would write hymns about, but any animal on the street would never be allowed to see. You have the grace of the body and the fire in the eyes, and then you speak. When you speak, I realise, you could bring the world to its knees. Also, you never speak out of context, and if you do it is to ease somebody’s position. You do it often with John or with Stevie, you say something really silly in order to put them back to a place of comfort. Some women would call it self deprecating, but I see that you only pick wisely your fights and your wins. You don’t need to earn your peace and quiet by neglecting, but by lifting up the others. I wonder if you do it with me too, if your silences are just you allowing me to be in a better place while instead your judgment is tearing me apart. I shouldn’t care, but I keep wondering, sometimes I take my time to answer you, I analyse every shade, every peculiarity of your question, I am looking for sarcasm, for a condescending voice, for something to hang on and bare you open. To prove myself you’re not perfect. But deep down I know that you do, you judge me and you do well.

Mother never said so. That’s what one of the girls in my care said today. Ursula. She is tough. Skin as thick as an alligator and the tendency to pull her own hair at night or when under a massive amount of stress, enuresis alongside erratic episodes of mutism. I tried the soft approach, it didn’t work. She is too accustomed to be indulged. Therefore today I pushed her a bit overboard, I teased her over opinions on the female body, the female role, she is only 12, but she is soon to bleed, she knows, I can tell from the way she clenches to her skirts, from the way she looks at me as a threatening figure. I am the incarnation of danger to her. Under her steady silence, I pushed a bit more, asking how her mother taught her to be nice and submissive. Does her mother tells her she is going to be a good wife? The phrase, which I reported at the top of the page, surprised me. What is her mother teaching to her then? What closed her so much, locked her soul away, making a small bird like this choose the silence and the retirement of self inflicted pain over, what? Mankind? Or just Men? Is that even a curse? Should I cure her from a truth that her own mother whispered to her ear one night before bed and made a child decide that the world wasn’t a place to share her time with? Am I the man supposed to teach her that men are worth of trust? In the eyes of modern society, who measures its own value over the modesty of the women, she would be a champion, but at what price? I can’t in any way let her parents bring her back home after our recent meetings. Nevertheless, I have to make up my own mind on how to give her troubled soul ease without making her believe in fables. I, as a man, regard myself not worth of any of the trust they expect me to teach her.

In all of my years practicing with people’s feelings and traumas, I challenged myself to find those same traumas within my own mind. It is a tricky game, terrible, anguishing at times. But it straightens me, the pain of others, the pain of kids mostly, so unadulterated and pure, breaks the curtain between me and the lies that I often surround myself with. Pain is made of method, you can open it up, you can scrutinise it, part it piece by piece dividing it in sectors and, partitions, centre part, side part, heart of the problem. Pain is reliable. Happiness is not. It is random, cruelly sudden, unexpected, it washes over you in such deflecting way only to leave you alone a moment after ashamed and alone. I saw you again today. You were in a table full of what I could only guess as your former university colleagues, I saw pain in you, not heavy but constant. Annoyance, a bit of sadness. Your head titling on side and your eyes drifting on the left, you’re imagining something away from them. A place? An object? Or maybe someone? Your hands play circles at the bottom of the flute of your drink like kids do, your smile only one sided. I don’t see you speak at all, only listen. What could keep your voice down? I almost gulped down my own breath as you looked up and I realised how I must have looked. I was having lunch on my own, in a very private table and even entertaining myself with a newspaper on the side. I wish you didn’t, but you came over, your eyes shining. Did I save you? Or maybe I was just a good excuse to leave that painful meeting behind. Don’t be so nice to me, it is not healthy. Don’t look at me like you expect anything more from me than me listening. I won’t smile back at you, I won’t give you care, attentions or thought. I won’t lean for your perfume, I won’t obsess over that dress you wore, that pin that adorned your neckline keeping your undershirt in place, a silver robin, I remember. I won’t remember the number of the buttons on the side of your glove, three. I won’t observe the little moles just under your ear. A small constellation, I later realised, hidden between your ear and the beginning of your neck. I don’t need to check in my books. It is a constellation. It is Lyra. Why? Why you must be like this? Are you the Lyra? Are you the instrument of Orpheus come to me to drag me out of Hell? The Tartarus holds my soul and you should know already, I am not worth the quarter part of Eurydice to be saved and she never came back anyway. I won’t be now recollecting the way your teeth sunk in the inner side of your cheek when you apologised for the annoyance. You apologised twice, I ignored you both times with a raised hand to request peace and silence. I am not letting you in.

Reserved: Tickets for Wednesday’s evening Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi. The guest female lead promises a beautiful show.

Leonardo, as I am learning through Paul Valery essay, is who I would define as a figure of projective identification of the Subject or, to better explain it, of the knowledge of the Subject that formed and grew through the use of sketches in the experience of the Artist. I have always thought that the finest form of art was the representation of knowledge duly undressed by any personal identification. Leonardo, instead, proceeded to represent the figure through the essence of the artist, a representation technically unlimited on objects and symbols and that keep expressing the transformation and development of Leonardo’s own being.Some artists are testimony of the destruction of the world, of the loss of eternal beauty over decadence. And then you have Leonardo, who creates an art that is the gravity of the world’s system, of the nature, of thoughts and abstractions. I wonder if our killer does the same, if the way they presents the victim through their own personal view, if what we can read there it is their stories, their pains, their needs. Their happiness and troubles. What are they trying to tell me? I need to know, I need to know to save a life, of course, but I also need to know to be able to sleep at night. Hair, hair are the epitome of femininity in any era. I keep studying Ursula and her habit to pull the. I took notes on it: she picks them by the bottom, slowly separates them until she gains an amount her mind defines satisfactory and then she rolls her finger and pulls, she does it until her finger is empty and there are no hair left. I find her process incredibly interesting. In men’s case the display of physical attributes is not as vital, a beard can be appreciated but does not modify the power of seduction of a grown man. On the contrary, for women hair are a vital part of their attractiveness toward the opposite sex, society sees the hair of a woman as part of their vital characteristics, also in ancient times for a woman to cut her hair or have her hair cut was a sign of deep separation from the society. Only heroines or whores wore that mark and the association of the two is so rooted into the way society always parted the role of a woman in two that it is nauseating to think of. I am still fearing to let Ursula go away, the repulsion that she is showing toward her own body makes it difficult even for me to crack her shell open as a man, but my deepest worry is when that hate will take a scarier and deeper tool on her. How a girl with such a fear of what her body can do, like sex or pregnancy, can endure in the future to have an husband? Or even to be courted by anyone?

John is helpless and I admire him for that. He doesn’t hide it, he just is. He is vulnerable and exposed, he is an open well bursting with doubts and feelings and troubled waters. He is genuine in a way I could never be. Maybe that’s why I despise even more him talking about you, how he sees you every morning, how you greet everybody, how you behave even with interns, how you like your coffee. Your talents, your wits, how you said this and acted like that and reasoned through him. How you forbid him to drink even when he felt tempted. How you stayed late over to help him collect all the informations I requested him to get. To him. Not to you. The evil demon of envy scratching in the back of my head screaming like a siren out in the sea, he demands to be heard, he demands to be allowed a part in this game. I won’t allow him that. I won’t allow myself any of that. This is a pure game of chess, if I give in a pawn now, I will lose my knight, and I know it. I advice him to not be so closed minded when he praises you, only to get surprised by the charms of a natural logical mind. I find a way to hurt him, he is an easy target, I look at him as his eyebrows twitch and he summons his patience on me. He lost the plot about you already, his bruised pride taking over. You won’t come into my life.

“Un dì, felice, eterea, mi balenaste innante, e da quel dì tremante vissi d'ignoto amor.” (“On a day, happy and ethereal, you appeared in front of me and from that day, trembling, I lived on an unknown love”)

The words of Alfredo in the first act of the Traviata keep running through me, a chant that won’t let me go, almost painful. The Opera House, that was my hiding place, a place where in plain sight I could let out myself, unleash. The catharsis of the characters involved running through me, I didn’t need anything but their voices and those musical instruments to let out my fears, doubts and anger. When Alfredo came to the scene tonight, the lights were strong and slightly pinkish, the performer bursting out of the seams with passion. My eyes diverted only to see you there. Alone. Those blinding lights gave you the the radiance of a vision singing the notes of greek myths and heroes, that dark blue evening clothing rang through my eyes like it was a bright yellow, the little shiny details that adorned you so clear against the heavy lighting to look like transparent pieces of water collected to adorn your beauty. I wasn’t me, but Alfredo, and I was helpless against you sitting so far and yet too close from me. I was naked in front of thousands. I am aware of the effect you have on me and our last conversation was barely regarded as one. This is infatuation, this is the pure work of a lonely mind and not something worth of any of all the words that I am dissipating here. Yet. I saw you cry at the climax of the opera, Violetta, the protagonist, heartbroken falling on stage consumed by pain and regret for her lost love and ultimate sacrifice. Your eyes shone as you tried to hide the tears and collect yourself. Through my binoculars, I saw your throat tremble and gulp down something more than just a sigh of pain. Your jaw clenched, your gloved hand moves to hide your shaking lips. I reckon, I have never seen such sad lips look more inviting. You look at the wall on your side breathing through your nose and not even that can save you by the strength of the voice of the soprano. You’re defeated and so you brought a fine silk handkerchief to your eyes, your shoulders bent inward in self defence. The Opera won. It won you like it always wins me. I wonder if you felt like this because of a past lover, somebody that broke your heart and made you feel wrong in any way. And because of that little wonder it is even more clear to me why I am a man worth of no trust. Because for a moment, I know, I wished to be the one that broke your heart. That gave you just the pain you’re inflicting on me so mercilessly by offering intoxicating kindness and beauty. To own your thoughts, tears and shame. To be the one man you have to look away from. I want to own all of that and, maybe, I will be freed of you the day you’ll be just another human being that hates Dr Laszlo Kreizler.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone

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#the diary of doctor laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #dr laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler headcanons #thealienist #the alienist fanfic #the alienist fanfiction

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venenatd · 3 years

Text

atsumu x reader; motion sickness - chapter three.

summary; atsumu wants to get to know reader better, and somehow convinces her to take him to the ice rink

content warnings; nsfw content, public sex, unprotected sex (nothing will come from it), dom/sub undertones

a/n; i hope u enjoy!! i think from here on out i get more into the swing of things and much prefer my writing so i hope u do too! reblogs/thoughts are v appreciated <3

ao3 | series masterlist | main masterlist | 18+ minors dni

Choosing to wake up alone means the bed is cool and spacious. You can roll over and feel nothing. Sheets fold against your body, swallowing you whole. No need to tug them away, they are all for you. You push the thoughts away too, the idea that there could have been a warmth to tuck into. All throughout your routine you ignore how someone else could fit into it.

Breakfast alone stings a little more, the hotel full of families and teams. You’re more aware now at the buffet, of the many muscular men that stand around in groups. They pile plates high of the day's energy. Wildebeest at the watering hole, you note to yourself. If there was anyone to eye roll at, you would. You notice you don’t see a certain head of toned blond hair. Not that you’re looking for it, you remind yourself.

People watching is best done on your own however, and your eyes flit between young couples, children spilling honey down their chins, and people desperate for the relief of caffeine.

Alone is safe and comforting. An observer, as Faiz would often call you. Watching and analysing and playing with the stories in your mind. You can live through the honeyed child, the tired parent. Give them a job, a goal, a life. It’s fun to enter their space, if for a moment.

The moment ends as Faiz breaks into your thoughts, fragments of faux futures shatter around you. “I have a challenge for you today.”

“Oh?”

“I want you to trust me,” the cheeky glint in his eye makes you want to do anything but.

“You already know I do.” His overjoyed energy is infectious, and your morning of distraction in other people’s brains has been replaced. You can feed off him to feel full. “What are you planning?”

“So, before you ask he’s down,” he begins, grinning at your raised brow, “but I think you should work with Makito today.” You chew on your toast for a minute, thinking through what Faiz is really asking. Or telling, as is more often when it comes to your coach.

“It’s for p—”

“Passion, you dumbass.”

“—ssion, isn’t it? Oi.” you go to flick his forehead, but he’s too quick and instead gets yours. “Ow, Faiz. Insulting and hurting me? Your favourite skater?”

“My favourite skater you may be, but you also need to score well. And I’ve got a plan.”

He drones on for a while, about how working with Makito is going to help create an environment where you’re performing for someone in particular. If you are embers, he will try and find someone or something to breathe the fire into you. You see how much he’s thought about this, and hey, you’re willing to give it a go if it might help.

As you make your leave from the hotel restaurant, you bump into something. Firm and tall and moving in such an ecstatic manner that it’s almost difficult to believe it’s so early in the morning. The someone grabs your shoulders, almost picking you up to move you to his side. You fluster, and they lean down to you.

“Sorry, sorry! Apparently way too hungry for breakfast,” his voice is deep but keeps the same energy as his movements. “Wait, do I know you?”

And then you see it. Another flashback to your night of heavy drinking. A shock of white and black hair, and bird-like features. “Barely, I think. I was drinking with your,” you’re not sure what term to settle on, “teammate, I think? Atsumu?”

“Yes, Tsum Tsum’s girl! Hey!”

“I’m not—”

“She’s not—”

And there he is. Sun gold hair still damp from an early shower. He looks like the warmth you were missing that morning. You didn’t miss it, you correct your runaway thoughts. It’s just a feeling you were once used to.

“Oh. Awkward. Well, breakfast calls!”

Like that the owl flees the nest.

“I should get going,” you say, shuffling past him as an attempt to run from the atmosphere. You don’t need to talk about it, or what you did. Hookups are a lot easier when you’re not both staying at the same hotel.

“I meant what I said, by the way,” he calls after you, waiting a second for you to turn. You shouldn’t turn around. Not if you don’t want to give him the chance to offer again. But it’s like his voice has a command over you, and you pause briefly. He rewards you with the easy curl of his lips and the way it shows in his cheeks. A small flash of hope in his eyes. “I’ll teach you a spike for a spin.”

At least there’s someone for you to roll your eyes at now.

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“Glad ya keepin’ up.”

Atsumu is quickly realising that you don’t quite speak your mind. It’s always you won’t take no, you don’t have to. It’s so far never been, I’m interested, I want that. There’s something about the way your brain is wired that makes him curious. Not that he would tell you about the other women that have flit through his life, but his type usually falls under demanding, high strung. Osamu would tease him that he dates reflections of himself. They could barely be considered dates, if he really looks into it. It’s always to bars and parties, his ‘date’ enjoying the expensive alcohol or his teammates.

Maybe he does have a jealous streak. When he goes for those who throw themselves at him, he never quite expects them to do the same to his teammates in turn. It’s nice to be wanted though, if only as a stepping stone.

If you are not demanding, it would only be natural to assume you are easy or effortless. But you are not that either. You need persuasion and nudging to agree to the course you want anyway.

You are a curiosity, Atsumu thinks as you enter the rink together. His practice isn’t till late, your schedules are so perfectly mis-aligned.

The not-boyfriend from the bar is here too, pushing off the seats to greet you. Atsumu stays back and lets you explain the situation, giving a polite nod when Faiz is introduced as your coach. He relaxes more when Faiz gives him a grin, one that spills with knowledge of late night escapades.

“So, you’re the guy?”

“Am I the guy?” he questions you, and as your eyes once again move to roll, he speaks again, “y’know, your eyes might get stuck like that one day.”

“I told her the same thing!” Faiz laughs, patting Atsumu’s back. “She’s always doing it too, as if I’m so below her.”

“Both of you should stop talking.” It’s cute, he thinks. Your little pout that you probably think looks oh so stern. Brows knitted and a finger to your temple. A kindergartner would laugh in your face.

“Faiz, I hate to break it to you. But she didn’t deny it.” His hand squeezes Faiz’s shoulder, a look of woe playing on his face. The coach responds with a hand clasped to his chest, stepping back as if your words have shot him.

He mutters your name under his breath, as if shocked by the revelation. “You’ve been using me all this time? And here I thought we were friends.” Faiz looks between you, lips trying so hard to fight a smile, and the beaming blonde next to him. “And him? You’re using him for se—”

Your eyes widen, and your hand immediately goes to slap your palm over Faiz’s mouth. “Okay! Okay, I get it! Very funny Faiz, very funny Atsumu. You’re both first class athletes and comedians.”

There’s murmuring that comes from the fingers covering Faiz, and you open them just enough for Faiz to let you, “was it any good at least?” before you close them again.

Atsumu goes to open his mouth, goes to prod more fun in your direction. But your hand goes from Faiz’s mouth, to his hand, and you’re pulling him and his words away.

“Please not in the locker room,” Faiz calls in your general direction, to which you pull your signature middle finger back at him.

“Are we gonna do it in the locker room?” Atsumu asks, praying the slight element of hope is hidden by the teasing. How easy it would be to guide your hand in his, move it towards your waistband.

“You wish.” He does.

“I like your coach.” Atsumu leans against the rows of lockers, watching you swap shoes for skates, “seems more fun than mine.”

“He knows me better than anyone. And he’s honest, doesn’t hide anything,” you speak as if it's routine. A question that has an automatic answer. “I already regret letting you two meet.”

“Oh c’mon, Golide,” he trails after you, admiring how on earth you can walk so comfortably on blades. “We both know you enjoy it.”

“You need me to say it?” you question as you step on the ice, whisking away before he can respond.

Maybe he doesn’t need you to say it, but he certainly wants you to. There’s elements of your attitude that Atsumu wants to learn. Why you very clearly have walls up, and how he can seep into the cracks.

Faiz comes to stand next to him, both of them watching as you move across the ice. Now you do seem effortless. Atsumu is sure it takes huge effort for you to push yourself across the ice, but somehow it looks like you prefer it to walking.

“So,” Faiz begins, and Atsumu knows the tone of the protective friend, “you like her?”

As much as you can after hanging out with someone a couple of times. Atsumu knows he’s become curious. Is that liking you? It sounds like something a teenager would say. So far he knows he likes aspects of you. Your smile, first of all. The banter between you both is easy, it keeps him on his toes. Your moans and sarcasm are both equally sweet.

“Something like that.”

Faiz hums thoughtfully and Atsumu thinks he’s not going to do it, and that he doesn’t need to make any promises. “Just be nice to her. She deserves that.”

It’s a weird way to phrase don’t hurt her, but Atsumu nods nonetheless. Just like that the men are back to smooth and easy jokes and discussions of career.

Eventually another man, the other not-boyfriend Atsumu recalls, joins them, and Faiz bids his goodbyes. They both go towards you on the rink, and so your new lesson begins.

Makito is almost giddy to work with you. His movements are too quick and too erratic for you to feel calm. Your head is usually clear in practice. Knowing where the exact places your skates should be, the extension of your hands. But it’s fogged doing it with someone else, as well as knowing two pairs of eyes are watching.

You had begun by simply holding on to one another, doing the most basic of motions to make sure you were working together well, and that no one was going to trip over the other. Deeming it a success, Faiz had moved onto the next challenge.

“Remember, this is all about feeling with Makito,” he instructs, putting both your hands on each other, “I want to see you responding to him. Acting the part.” Pretending to be in love is what he really means.

You both move across the ice, you’re meant to be jumping into Makito’s lap and the two of you leaning back to balance the weight. The idea is to make it look sexy, alluring, erotic. All words that you think far from describe you.

From the edge of the rink Atsumu wolf whistles, and he imagines the eye roll, although he’s not sure he likes the idea of that so much when you’re seated in someone else's lap.

“Makito, how did that feel?” Faiz quizzes.

He winces, looking sheepishly towards you before he answers. “Like she thought she was going to fall.”

“Did you think you were going to fall?” He directs the question your way, but you think he knows the answer. Curse him understanding you inside and out.

“I- I don’t know. Trying so hard to look romantic I didn’t think about much else.”

It goes on like that for long enough that you’re both sweating. The same song plays on repeat as you go through set movements again and again. It makes it feel like both so much and so little time is passing. Even Atsumu is just flicking through his phone now. Why did you say yes to him coming again? You know Faiz can feel your agitation, the way you bristle each time he instructs you to look a certain way. If trying your best was enough, you’d be done by now.

“Go. Take a break,” Faiz instructs. He’ll give you some time to cool off as he always does, letting you work it out isolated. It’s what works best for your brain. A whole other routine, walking away and turning music up far too loud. Stewing in it all. Absorbing yourself in the negative feelings until you can push them away or find something to distract yourself from them.

It feels like you should be alone this time. Too many wrong buttons pushed and you could snap at someone only to regret it. Too bad for you that you said yes to your newest irritant.

“You looked awesome” Atsumu begins, looking up from whatever feed he’s swiping through. He can barely finish the sentence before your face causes him to falter.

There are two pairs of steps echoing down the hallway, the creak of a rusty hinge swinging twice. Hopes of a lonesome sanctuary in the locker room are dashed.

“Hey, you okay?”

His face is full of concern, which puzzles you. Your fingers struggle to unlace your shoes. Must you struggle with everything when it comes to your profession? Maybe a distraction would be better.

“Goldie?”

The nickname bounces around in your mind, coupled with I’ve got you. Your shoes are off and next comes your sweater. Tugging it over your head and discarding it unceremoniously on the floor.

“Do you need anything?”

Perspiration still clings to your body, coming down from your workout on the ice. He is standing there, so big, so broad. It’s like a magnet is drawing you closer. He is a distraction wrapped in an aggravatingly handsome face and strong body.

“Yes, I do.”

His eyes flick down to your chest, heaving and covered in a sheen of sweat. Not the time, Atsumu. You’re looking up at him through your lashes, and his lips part, thinking about- not the time. He thought it was annoyance in your eyes, but the darkness seems to hold a different weight. Fists are balled by your side, and he’s not sure if you’re holding yourself back from punching a wall or something else.

“Fuck me, Atsumu.”

“What?” His brain is short circuiting, he thinks. ‘It’s not the time’ he repeats again and again. He’d promised to be nice to you and suddenly he’s not sure if that means talking you down or engaging with you in all the ways he wants to.

“You wanted to, right? Just fuck me.”

All of your body language is screaming at him to grab you and pull you in. Your palm crosses against his pectorals, your fingers curling to tease your nails down past his naval.

“You want me to beg Atsumu?” On tip toes you can push your body against his. Low and whispered against your voice is at the shell of his ear. “You want me to say please?”

The tensing of his muscles underneath his shirt makes you not want to pull away. You want Atsumu to want you. No, you want him to need you. To show you that you’re good for something. So you fall back on your feet, starting to turn away, heart dropping for a moment when he stays still. Maybe you’re the desperate one.

But then his hand grips around your arm, pushing you firmly against the row of lockers. His mouth crushes yours before you can even think of teasing him. Gripping under your ass, he brings your legs around his waist. You smile into the kiss as you notice he’s already half hard.

He almost growls into your sigh, realising that he does not have easy access to you like this. Slow ruts against you, easily bringing you against his crotch as Atsumu keeps you stuck between his body and the lockers. He needs convincing to let you away from him for even a second. “Say it again.”

“Please Atsumu. Please fuck me.”

It tips him over, sends him into some sort of feral need for your cunt. Dropping and rotating you, pushing you back up against the cool metal.

Fingers rip at your leggings and panties, rolling them just far enough down your ass. You think he may manage to leave you with bruises when he grabs your hips again. He is always on you, whether it’s his tongue on your neck, his hands pulling down your cami to cup your tits.

Your hands scramble behind you, desperately trying to pull at his pants. He’s quick to entertain you, bringing them down and tugging his cock a few times.

Foreplay be fucking damned. You think you’re wet enough, or at least the stretch and burn of Atsumu buried inside you will be enough to sedate your over active mind. “I need you inside me. I n- need you to fill me, ‘Tsumu.”

As much as Atsumu wants to treasure your body, give you all that you deserve, the pure desire that fills your voice drives him into a new space entirely.

His head presses at that tight ring of muscle, letting himself be lathered in your slick. Gathering spit in his mouth, he pushes it between his teeth to let it slowly drop on his cock. You whine, begging more and more. Pushing yourself back on him as best you can with your waistband keeping your thighs pressed together.

Atsumu’s thumb pushes his spit around your already stretched hole, then moving down to press against your clit. It’s enough for him to fully sheath himself, giving you the delicious burn you were hoping for.

You’ve never been fucked like this. Never been needy enough to beg for it, and fuck, maybe it’s because Atsumu seemed so eager to make you feel good before. Maybe it’s that you know you don’t have to feel anything more than his length pushing against your satin walls again and again. You’ll go home, and all the deranged things your mind made you do can stay here.

Words fall from your lips, you’ve been the one talking- begging so far. “Harder, please, please, please, fuck yes.” One large hand is holding your elbows together behind you, the other plucking at your nipples or passing over your clit. He can’t make his mind up, each one drawing a new sound from you until you're babbling under him. Going from nothing to having Atsumu smacking his hips against your ass, oversensitive everywhere as you’re grabbed and played with.

“Yeah? You can’t even beg for it anymore, huh?”

Glazed over eyes look back at him, as if his cock has been a complete shock to your system.

But you’re defiant. “P-Please,” he makes out through your gritted teeth.

It makes him think of things you both could do. Things that need safe words and more trust than he feels you’re willing to give.

He’s close, feeling his abdomen and thighs tingle and tighten. There’s some part of him that wants you to be open to ideas, open to the trust that they’d need. He would need it.

Quick thrusts slow. Atsumu moves deep and slow, his hand letting your arms go and wrapping under your chest. He almost fully pulls out before driving back in, leaving you gulping for air in short gasps. His fingers massage your clit, and instead of mocking you he’s whispering encouragement.

“You feel so good, so, hah, s’fuckin’ good. Wan— wanna make you feel it all, wanna make you feel good.”

You don’t even realise your satin walls are fluttering around him, but Atsumu does. The tightness of your pussy around him makes him want to fill you up with his cum, and then he realises. No condom. Fuck. He looks at your fucked out face, eyebrows raising in bliss.

More whispered praise against your ear, and now you can feel it too. The coil in your stomach that’s making you tighten, making you open your eyes in surprise. He’s not saying it, but all you can think about is Atsumu saying “I’ve got you” because you’re so sure he does. Holding you up and close to his body, wanting you to also feel the pleasure you can see etched across his handsome features.

Before you realise it’s happening you're falling, spasming around his cock. Repeating “‘Tsumu, ‘tsumu, ‘tsumu” in a rapturous melody. Moans echo around the locker room, and Atsumu’s pulling out from between your plush folds, leaving you to clench around nothing. His cum coats your ass, jerking himself off to completion, wishing so hard it was your cunt milking every drop from him.

Slow and sweet kisses pepper your shoulder and neck, the cheek that isn’t pressed into the metal. “You feel good?” he says softly between pecks.

“Yeah, I… I needed that.” His thumbs massage into your hips, as if he’s working out the bruises that will definitely be there tomorrow. It’s another show of care that leaves you unsettled. “Feel better without your cum on my ass.”

Atsumu lets out a low chuckle, and he steps back to admire his work. A pretty painting, if he says so himself. Tucking himself away, he has to leave you standing awkwardly to run and grab tissues. There’s sincerity in how he cleans you up too, not quick and hurried as he should be. His fingers smooth over the curve of your ass, leaving more kisses in his wake.

Once you’re clean, he neatens your hair and pulls your leggings back up. You smooth out your smudged mascara and you both head back towards the rink. It’s too quiet for too long, but before you can interrupt the silence he does.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Hmm?” you hum.

“You said you needed it. Frustrated about something?”

The cold hits you both as you push open the doors into the rink. Makito and Faiz nod at you both before going back to their conversation. Probably about how much you suck at anything close to passion, you think, the feelings you’d just managed to smother becoming too quick to resurface.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” His eyebrows deepen and his brown eyes are full of so much sincerity you can’t help but go on. “So, I did pairs skating for a while, like what you saw earlier.”

He lets out little hums as you talk, reassuring notes of interest. “But then I moved to singles, and lost the spark and, uh—”

“The passion.” Fuck Faiz and his fucking passion. Atsumu grins at him for a moment, and you’re waiting for the onslaught of teasing to begin, but it doesn’t. His eyes return to you, his smile stays, dropping from cheeky into something softer.

“That. Passion, the desire, the,” you gesture wildly, “the stuff that turns it from spins and jumps into a performance.”

“And that’s what you were doing with your friend?” Atsumu points at Makito.

“The lift? Yeah, seeing if I’ve still got it in pairs.”

In a flash Atsumu is lifting you for the second time today, grabbing you by the waist despite your “hey!” Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, the breath being pulled from you as he manhandles you easily.

One large palm spreads across your back, and your body is running on it’s latest experience, curving back. Is he also thinking about what just happened, thinking about how he was going to take you like this? His face still holds onto something dark, his eyes lingering with lust. You pray your own doesn’t betray you, that you can feign it as surprise.

“That’s it! That’s the look!” Atsumu and you both turn to your coach.

His eyes wide and excited, both hands pointing at your face. Faiz is almost jumping up and down on the spot. “That’s what will make people notice! You did it!”

Your cheeks warm, watching Atsumu try to lean back also, replicating what he saw Makito do earlier. He’s strong and beautiful and everything you’re sure many women want. But with his eyebrows drawn in deep concentration, trying so hard to be elegant… He looks utterly ridiculous. Like that you’re giggling, hands having to loop around his neck to keep yourself from laughing your way to the floor.

You sound so good when you laugh. The challenge of getting it out of you is what first caught Atsumu. A smile made his drunken self feel gooey. Now sober, the noise of you trying to even your breathing as you give him a full bodied laugh. It makes him want to cup your face, marvel at your eyes creasing, the way the corners of your lips curl.

“And it’s gone again.” Faiz sighs, but it’s warm and full of so many emotions but not disappointment.

Eyes full of sweet browns and honey catch you off guard. He’s looking too intently at you. Your smile fades, body going more rigid in his hands. Atsumu lets you drop, making sure you’re steady before his hands move from your waist.

Practice starts back up, Atsumu watching from the sidelines. He can’t hear the discussion well enough between the trio on the ice, and soon his attention splits back between you and his phone.

His thumbs move quickly, typing out a ‘you’ll never believe what just happened’ to the MSBY group chat before he pauses, and presses against the backspace. To share what just happened feels wrong. It felt a little too personal. You needed him for a moment. If he was to tell the team, it’d be a fun anecdote. There’s the chance they could piece together it was with you, and if he can convince you to come to a game…

Atsumu doesn’t want to mess it up.

So instead his fingers take him to a different message, and start to type again.

Me // 11:21am

>> oi, i got a question for u

Samu🍙 // 11:24am

>> yes you need to wash everywhere. including there.

Me // 11:24am

>> ok

>> guess i’ll ask someone else

>> scrub

Samu🍙 // 11:24am

>> don’t be a baby

>> what’s up

His quick typing stops for a moment, watching you jump into Makito’s lap once more, and then the three of you are grinning and high fiving.

Me // 11:25am

>> have u ever liked someone

>> like liked

Samu🍙// 11:25am

>> are you 12 years old

>> i’ve had literal girlfriends

>> i’m trying to get ready for the lunch rush and you’re asking me about crushes?

Me // 11:25am

>> is a few days too soon to know

Samu🍙// 11:26am

>> depends i guess

>> you like someone?

Atsumu doesn’t know how to respond to that, so just hits the call button.

“I told you I’m tryna be prepared,” Osamu immediately berates his older brother, talking about how there’s only so much time before he’s going to be swarmed.

“Well, if ya shut it for a minute, I’d be able to talk.”

“Fine. So who’s my favorite twin crushin’ on?” he asks the question in a song, making Atsumu regret the call in the first place.

“I’m your only twin, dumbass,” he mutters, interrupting Osamu before they go off topic again. “I don’t know if I like her. We’ve hooked up a few times,” a gross comes from down the line, “but she’s just cool. I don’t know, dude. I just want to get to know her more.”

“So what does it matter if you like her? Just get to know her.” Coming from Osamu it seems simpler. Sometimes his thoughts can run off, get muddled and confused and overwhelming. But Osamu’s always been the calmer, the one who can keep him on track and call him out when he needs it. If Atsumu is a boat in a storm, Osamu is the anchor.

A few more words are spoken back and forth, general housekeeping to know what’s happening in each other's lives, before Osamu has to work, and Atsumu is left with his thoughts. There’s still that annoying doubt at the back of his mind. A little worm that’s dug so far down, even with someone else helping it’s hard to get out.

What if you don’t like him?

You apologise for his cold rosy cheeks and how long he had to sit and watch. He reassures you that he had fun, the both of you headed back outside into the heat of the city. You fall into place easily next to one another, walking by the river rather than ordering a car back to the hotel. Atsumu had persuaded you, protesting that without the warmth of the sun, how could he ever regain feeling in his nose.

“Next time you’ll have to get me on the ice.”

“You already impressed Faiz so much, are you sure you’re ready for the career change?”

“I’m sure a publicist could work it,” he’s quick to respond, holding hands out wide in front of the both of you, “I can see it now. The great Miya Atsumu conquers the ice skating world. Is there anything he can’t get gold in?”

“Real humble, Miya,” you say with an exasperated smile.

“Miya?” he echoes, “and here I thought I was gonna get a nickname.”

You’re either looking up at him with a quizzical stare or the afternoon sun is in your eyes. Either way Atsumu notes that it’s a cute expression, one that brings out the flecks of colour in your irises.

Pausing for a moment, people shuffle around you, going about their days in the city. Bringing his lips to your ear, you can feel the width of his smile on your cheek. “‘Tsumu, ‘Tsumu, please ‘Tsumu” he whispers the whines - your whines - much to your dismay.

Pushing him away, you’re only reminded of the hard planes of his abs, and now there’s definitely heat rising in your face. “Shut it Miya,” you wish you said with more defiance. Your grumble let’s him know he’s won your embarrassment.

“Thought ya liked it when I talked,” he teases, twisting you around by the shoulder to keep walking. The way you try and avoid eye contact only makes him want it more, and deciding between poking fun and giving in is all too difficult.

You come around quickly though, Atsumu using his seemingly effortless charisma to smooth over jokes, bring you back out of your shell. There’s a feeling that he can, innately, get people on his side. Despite his seeming arrogance and over-confidence, he takes the quips you throw at him on his shoulder. Letting deep chuckles spill off his tongue and reassuring touches whenever he responds in a similar jest.

Atsumu tugs you left and right, pointing your way back to the hotel with ease. The walk proves longer than the twenty minutes Google Maps promised you, trusting Atsumu when he says he ‘knows these streets like the back of his hand’. He does know them pretty well, at least knows that right turns should in fact be left. But the banter and laughter you two are sharing is doing more to him than the sun. It’s still surface level, discussions about plans for the week, where your home is. There’s a segment featuring each of your favorite colours, foods and films.

“Really? Rear Window?”

“What? It’s a classic!”

“The fact that you’ve even seen it surprises me.”

He goes on to explain that yes, it was the only film available at the hotel, but that he admired the determination of the main character. You wouldn’t have pegged him for watching anything considered old, or classic, let alone admiring the story. “And Grace Kelly, right?”

“I mean,” he begins sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck “yeah but—”

Your giggles quiet him.

Eventually you’re back where it began, standing outside the hotel looking at one another.

“So, are you goin’ give me your number or am I goin’ to have to beg you for it?”

“Oh, there’s a chance you’ll beg for it?”

You don’t miss the glint in his eyes, flashing quickly before it passes. “Is that a no, Goldie?”

It would be easier if it was a no. Your hands are acting on want, pulling your phone out and handing it to him with contact screen open before you can think too much about it.

“You better text me.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Atsumu hopes that you will. Maybe asking him to a meal or if you need him again, to your room. He settles that want next to another. No running before you can even walk. Like Osamu said, just getting to know one another.

Afternoon practice is long. Time spent sweating and running and jumping for hours away from his phone. He’s thinking about hyper active teammates, making sure he’s setting just right for them. Touching you right. All of his energy spent on the blue and yellow ball before him. Spending his energy on you. Then he’s on to letting his mind be consumed by proteins and carbs and what he can eat over the next week. Maybe just a film in, rather than dinner out. Thinking about Kiyoomi who’s acting all analytical, watching the group and remarking on Atsumu’s performance.

“You seem distracted.”

But he’s not, of course. He can laugh it off and joke around with Bokuto in the locker room. Purposefully not thinking about earlier in the day. His heart wouldn’t race when he finally can open up his phone. It wouldn’t thump in his chest when he checks his notifications.

Unknown Number // 5:48pm

>> i can’t think of anything cool to say so

>> hi tsumu✨

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader smut #haikyuu smut #miya atsumu #atsumu #atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x y/n #atsumu smut #atsumu fic #atsumu multichapter #haikyuu fic #ven; motion sickness

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amajikilvr · 3 years

Note

Hello! I hope you're having a good day/night. I'm listening to songs from my favorite film when I was a kid: Really Rosie and this one song called the ballad of chicken soup caught my attention I had this really funny thought of shoto, tamaki, deku, and mirio (separate) walking in on their s/o hearing them sing thinking 'this sounds nice' until they just scream.

headcanon corner - walking in on their s/o singing

word count 802

reader type gender-neutral

characters included shouto todoroki , tamaki amajiki , izuku midoriya , mirio togata

notes i youtubed that and what the hell lol

shouto todoroki

Shouto didn’t really have many reservations about going into your room, even without knocking. You had invited him over and he figured you’d simply forgotten about it since he could hear you singing quite loudly from inside. He was intrigued and besides, he was never known for having the best manners…

He’s basically just standing by the door, trademark blank stare with a slight smile threatening to emerge. It’s while listening to you that he remembers the times his mother would softly sing to him and stroke his hair before things had reached their tragic peak with his father.

And that’s when he nearly jolts out of his skin at the sound of you suddenly belting out the lyrics. He hadn’t even noticed you go into a crescendo. His startled movement is enough for you to finally grow aware of his practically silent presence.

You’re embarrassed that he witnessed that but simultaneously amused by the innocent look of shock painted on Shouto’s pretty face. You apologize and laugh sheepishly as you pull him into a huge hug.

He ends up insisting that you show him the song you were singing and the entire movie because this boy has never been more curious.

tamaki amajiki

You see, Tamaki will almost always check with you first before heading over to your place. It’s usually a short and sweet text, but today he finds himself at the door without any kind of notice. He almost regrets this uncharacteristic decision when hears what seems to be your singing leaking through the thin wood.

His face flushes and his ears go warm as he listens to the clear voice that’s unknowingly seranading him. Tamaki still has his hand bunched in a fist, ready to knock, but he can’t quite do that yet. He does feel a bit bad about listening in because he knows actually how self-conscious he’d be if you overheard him singing. You just sound so lovely…

All of a sudden, your voice hikes up to a worrying volume. Tamaki moves on instinct, gone into hero mode, and grabs the door knob with a sharp twist. It’s not locked and he bursts into the room to see you frozen in place and holding a hairbrush to your mouth.

You’re surprised to see him, but you manage to convince Tamaki that nothing’s and your near yelling was only apart of the song. And no, the hairbrush wasn’t going to be used as a weapon. He might have been even more embarrassed than you.

izuku midoriya

Izuku is a little nervous as he stands outside your door and waits for you to answer. He’s still getting used to this whole dating thing. Does he greet you with a hug? A half hug? A kiss on the cheek? An actual kiss on the lips. Why aren’t you answering? Wait, are you singing in there?

Being the endearing nerd he is, Izuku can’t help but begin to analyse your overheard vocals. His knowledge on singing and its terminology is pretty limited so the most he can determine is that you sound nice, almost golden and hypnotic. He can’t believe you never mentioned this as a hobby of yours before.

Out of nowhere, your singing goes from calming to scarily loud and Izuku squeaks in shock. It’s one of the strangest things he’s ever heard, especially from you. He knocks even louder and semi-frantically calls out your name a couple of times.

You end up answering the door with your earbuds still swinging around your neck. After apologzing and explaining, you’re actually very pleased to watch him giggle at your expense. He does shyly request with cherry red cheeks and twinkling eyes that you sing again for him. You’ll probably choose a different song for that though…

mirio togata

Idly laying out on your bed, Mirio waits patiently for you to finish with your shower. It was your six month anniversary and he’d planned a fun date night for the two of you. He’s texting Tamaki when he suddenly becomes acutely aware of the sound of your singing drifting out of the connected bathroom.

He immediately grins like a fiend. You sounded great even over the running water, but Mirio can’t help but let his booming laughter out. Did you think he couldn’t hear you? It was honestly adorable. He was afraid to say anything out of fear that you might stop.

“Nice, Y/N!” Mirio yells out to you. He doesn’t expect any kind of response and figures the singing will stop all together. That is not what happens.

Your singing takes an aggressive turn and he nearly chokes. From inside the shower, you take on your own mischievous smile and almost slip in all of the excitement. You can hear him chuckling harder and you can only hope he hears your hysterical laughing too.

#bnha imagines #bnha x y/n #bnha requests #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki x reader #amajiki x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #mirio togata x reader #mirio x reader #togata x reader

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fleetingpieces · 3 years

Text

My One in a Million CH 5

Ok ok it’s here!! Once again, thank you @knittingdreams and @inloveoknutzy for being such amazing betas ❤️ And thank you @wonder-womans-ex for the idea of Sirius making awful cookies haha @donttouchmycarrots @sunflowerfox87 @justdyingontheinside @heyoitslysso @whataboutmyfries Please let me know if I forgot anyone that wanted to be tagged! :)

And of course, the lovely characters are from @lumosinlove ‘s world

Thank you so much for reading y’all! ❤️

Masterlist

Chapter 5 - Making amends

Sirius had a plan.

It was very simple. He wanted to clear the air with Remus, show him he wasn’t a horrible person. And to do that, he needed to stop being an ass.

Sirius had never been more self-conscious of how much his family affected his moods. He hated the idea of them having that kind of power over him. After all, he’d escaped that house years ago to avoid precisely that: having no control over his own life.

He had a tendency to go on a self-destructive streak whenever he felt overwhelmed by his parents' demands, it was the only way he knew how to cope with it. It was unhealthy, he was perfectly aware of that, and he was tired of not being able to find another way. Yeah, he wanted to do something nice for Remus to compensate for his behaviour, but he also wanted to do this for himself. So, now that he was feeling like his own person again, Sirius was going to fix all of his bad habits, go back to being a decent human being, and apologize to Remus.

It was going to work.

“That’s not gonna work.”

Sirius stared at Finn. He was sprawled on the couch, carding his fingers through Logan’s hair, who was sitting between his legs. Sirius would never admit it, but sometimes he was jealous of the relationship they had. He yearned for something like that.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, you can do all of that, but it will all be for nothing if he still refuses to even look at your face.”

“Why don’t you just tell him you’re Padfoot?” James asked as he walked into the room with two bowls of snacks in his hands, before he plopped down on the floor. “D’you think he’d tell?”

“No, I don’t believe Remus would do something like that. He would definitely try to keep Padfoot’s identity. I just…” Sirius trailed off and stared down at his hands, fiddling with them on his lap. Then he lifted his head to look at James’ confused expression. “I just don’t want the same thing to happen again. Not that I think Remus would try to take advantage of my popularity, but I…” he heaved a sigh, “I don’t want him to like me just because I’m Padfoot. I want him to like me because of me.”

There was a short silence as his three friends glanced at each other, and then Logan snorted.

“You big softie,” he said with a smirk. Sirius threw a cushion to his face.

He didn’t tell them the other reason why he was reluctant to tell Remus the truth: he was scared he would disappoint him.

The man thought so highly of Padfoot, it was so obvious by the way he spoke of him and how his eyes shone when he did. But would he still think the same if he knew that Padfoot was in fact his annoying neighbour? It seemed so important to him, for reasons Sirius didn’t understand, but still. He didn’t want to ruin that for Remus.

“So what are you going to do?” James said through a mouthful of chips.

Sirius perked up and smiled wickedly at his friends, making them groan even before he started talking.

“I’m glad you asked, Prongs. I’m gonna start by soundproofing my recording room. Which is why you lot are here today.”

James let out an audible gasp, “and here I thought you actually enjoyed our company. You were planning on using us all along!” he tilted his head up, placing his wrist on his forehead like he was about to faint.

“Outrageous.”

“I’m shocked.”

“I never expected this of you, Sirius,” Finn added, pretending to wipe the corner of his eyes.

“D’accord, d’accord!” Sirius huffed. “Dinner’s on me, oui? Don’t look at me like that, Prongs. I know you’ll be recording in here as well, so you might as well stop complaining and help.”

“Why are we here then?” Logan grumbled as he burrowed closer to Finn’s front, searching for his warmth.

“Cause you love me too much, and cause me and James alone would probably end up building a fort instead.”

James grinned cheekily at him, like he hadn’t dismissed that idea yet, but he got up. The four of them went to the room at the end of the hall, where Sirius had a couple of computers, lots of collectibles, and piles of acoustic foam and command strips to do the job.

“You know, you could probably teach Remus a thing or two about video editing. Leo showed us some of them and they’re good, but they are missing a little something,” Finn said offhandedly.

Sirius tripped over a chair, sending it wheeling against the desk.

“You...you saw the videos?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it, but the effect was completely ruined with Logan snickering in the background.

“Wait, since when are you friends with Leo?” James raised his eyebrows as he stared suspiciously from Logan to Finn.

Finn blushed slightly, but it was Logan who answered. “Oh, you know... we hung out a couple of times after the party. He’s cool.”

“He’s cool,” Sirius snorted. He hadn’t missed the way all three of them had thrown glances at each other all night at Halloween. There was something going on that he didn’t quite understand yet, but he wanted to give them the space they needed to talk about it if they wanted to.

Besides, there were other things on his mind as of then.

He’d completely forgotten about the existence of those videos. How that had happened after the display he saw on the balcony the other day was beyond him. Working on the room and waiting for the guys to be distracted enough was torture for Sirius. He had to keep reminding himself it was for a good cause, that Remus and his other neighbours would appreciate it.

But as soon as the food arrived and the guys sat down in the living room to watch TV, Sirius disappeared back into his recording room.

Finding the videos wasn’t hard. Apparently, there weren’t that many Remuses out there that were yoga instructors. Shocking, he knew. He pulled up the first video that appeared and almost choked on his breath.

There was Remus, bent backwards in the air over another man’s feet. Sirius registered at the back of his mind that the man was Leo, but he was more focused on the way Remus seemed to be flying as Leo, who was lying on the floor, kept him up by pressing his feet at Remus’ lower back and curve of his ass. A pop-up note at the bottom of the screen said the pose was called “back bow”. Sirius could understand why Finn thought he could use some help with editing, but right then, he didn’t really give a crap about that. Not with Remus’ muscles stretched taught to keep himself balanced and in shape, the tights he was wearing hugging the length of his legs and hips snugly, leaving very little to the imagination.

Sirius watched, transfixed, at the way Remus bent gracefully, his lean body arching and flipping in the air before Leo caught him. It was fucking gorgeous.

At the end of the video, a link was dropped that Sirius clicked almost on instinct. He was led to a website that offered all sorts of merchandise: mats, t-shirts, hoodies, sweatpants, leggings, and a few more things. Before Sirius could stop to analyse his fanboy (and slightly stalkerish) behaviour, he started adding stuff to the cart.

“Sirius, what the hell are you doing? Your food is getting cold.” James entered the room but stopped short when Sirius hastily got up and stood in front of the computer screen. He raised an eyebrow and glanced around his best friend, surprise marking his features when he got a look at what he was doing. “You really are smitten, aren’t you?”

Sirius rubbed a hand over his face, dropping himself back on the chair. He could talk about it with James, James wouldn’t make fun of him. “I...I don’t know. I’m just so curious about him. Like...I really want to talk to him more? Is that weird?”

“Nah, it’s not.” He walked over and propped himself on the desk next to Sirius, “I think it’s great that you’re actually trying. Don’t…” he sighed, “don’t close yourself off. You don’t need to do that anymore.”

Finn and Logan’s laughs drifted in through the door, breaking the haze in Sirius’ thoughts.

“Yeah...Yeah, thanks Potts.”

James bumped his fist against Sirius’ shoulder, smiling fondly at him. “No problem. Now get your ass there and eat your food.” He slung an arm around Sirius’ neck and started dragging him to the living room.

Sirius laughed and let himself be steered into a chair as he stole a glance at his two other friends, who were stealing kisses and food from each other, thinking that maybe James had a point. Maybe it was ok for him to want this.

***

Standing in front of the door with the number ten on it, Sirius felt a bit like an idiot. He was there, with a canvas painting -wrapped neatly in parchment paper- under one arm, and a box of homemade cookies in his hand.

Lily had mentioned what it was exactly that Sirius had broken, and Sirius had looked at many local artists until he found one he thought was perfect.

The cookies had been Sirius’ idea. He’d made them himself and vowed to never let any of his friends find out about it or he wouldn’t be able to live it down.

Pumping himself up, Sirius plastered his best smile on his face and knocked on the door. A few moments later it swung open, and then Remus was in front of him, still looking back into his apartment with a smile.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he said, but when he turned around and looked at Sirius, his smile faltered. The waver of those lips made Sirius’ heart tremble too. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Sirius breathed. After a few seconds of both of them just staring at each other, Sirius cleared his throat. “Can I...um...Can I talk to you?”

“Sure.” Remus seemed surprised, but he crossed his arms and stared at him, waiting.

Oh, this is worse than I thought. Sirius shifted his weight. “Is it ok if I come in?” he asked, and then he thought about Remus’ first words. “Or..oh shit, do you have company?”

“No,” Remus frowned. He glanced suspiciously at the stuff on Sirius’ hands before he heaved a sigh and stepped back to let him through.

Sirius’ first impression of Remus’ flat was that it suited him. It was warm, just like Remus seemed to be with anyone that wasn’t Sirius. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by him in the past few weeks how sweet and kind he was, always smiling and helping others. Sirius really wanted to be his friend. Ok, maybe more than friends, but right now, he would be happy with just that.

“What do you need?” Remus asked in an uninterested tone. He didn’t invite Sirius to sit down, and instead just stood there in the middle of the living room.

Sirius turned to look at him, his mouth opening to start apologising, but his attention was drawn to something behind the other man. Cocoa was approaching them slowly, placing one paw in front of the other without making a sound, his yellow eyes focused on Sirius’ face and his lips slightly pulled up.

A wide smile pulled at Sirius’ mouth, his eyes lighting up. “Hey doggy!” He crouched, extending a hand towards the animal.

“Sirius, don’t!” Remus tried to stop the dog, but Cocoa was already onto Sirius. And then he froze altogether at what he saw. Cocoa merely sniffed Sirius’ hand, sat down, and started wagging his tail.

Sirius laughed, “whoa, you’re even larger up close.” His eyes found Remus’. “Why are you so jumpy? He’s such a good dog,” he said as he started scratching Cocoa’s ears, “aren’t you?”

The wolfdog barked once and leaned into Sirius’ hand with its tongue hanging out.

“I...I don’t get it,” Remus was staring at him in awe, his mouth hanging open as his dog got closer to Sirius.

“What?”

“Cocoa is never so friendly with strangers. It usually takes him a long time to stop being alert and wary...but he seems to like you.”

Cocoa licked Sirius’ face as if to confirm that statement, making Sirius laugh again.

“Of course he does. We’re the same, aren’t we boy?”

“What do you mean?” Remus asked, still looking slightly disoriented.

“Well, I’m named after the dog star, aren’t I? And I’m a Black,” he gestured between himself and Cocoa as if he was stating something obvious.

The corners of Remus’ lips lifted up like he was trying really hard not to smile.

“Oh my God, that’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard!” he said, covering his mouth with a hand.

“You can deny it all you want, but he loves me.”

Cocoa inched even closer to Sirius and put his nose on the box that was still in his hand.

“Oh no, that’s not for you. Sorry, boy.”

“I’ve actually been meaning to ask, but what exactly is that?” Remus frowned.

“Oh, right.” Sirius petted Cocoa one last time and got up, fidgeting with the paper covering the present he’d brought. “Well, this is why I wanted to talk to you. I um…I only found out a few days ago that you were the person I bumped into that day. I just wanted to make amends.”

He handed Remus the big square package and waited anxiously as the other man narrowed his eyes at him and started ripping the paper off. He was pretty confident in the choice he’d made, but he hoped Remus would like it.

“What the hell is this?”

Remus was staring down at the landscape peeking out of the torn paper: a beautiful impressionist rendition of a full moon over a waterfall, with a pack of wolves peeking out of a forest. It was very well done, and not at all deserving of the glare Remus was throwing its way. Sirius’ head was reeling. How did he manage to make someone so kind and polite react in this way every time?

“I know it’s not the same as the one I broke, but I-”

“Damn right it’s not!” Remus snapped. His hands were shaking. Cocoa seemed to sense something was wrong, cause he was there in an instant, standing in front of Remus, trying to find where the threat was. Remus plunged on, his voice rising with an emotion Sirius couldn’t place, “My mum made that for me! You think you can just replace it with any expensive crap? You can’t possibly believe this is the same as something that meant so much to me, something that kept me going during-” Remus cut himself off and looked up to the ceiling. He was breathing hard, rubbing his temple with one hand while he held the painting in the other.

“I...I didn’t know. I… fuck,” Sirius closed his eyes, cursing himself, before looking pleadingly at Remus, trying to convey his emotions properly. “I’m so, so sorry. I never intended it to be a replacement. I...I just wanted to apologise.”

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up royally before he’d even properly met the guy, all because he couldn’t control his bad temper. He should probably go before making things worse. But he didn’t want to. He’d come here to make everything better, not to leave things like this. Glancing around to buy some time, he tried to think of a way to reverse the situation.

His eyes found something and, without even thinking about it, he blurted, “oh, so you bought the game?”

“What?”

Sirius pointed awkwardly to the NHL game box sitting on top of the coffee table. “I know we started on the wrong foot, but maybe we can have a rematch? Break the ice with something we’re both comfortable with?”

Remus stared at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was right, but Sirius was anything if not determined.

“Remus, I’m trying, ok? Just...I have cookies?” He shook the box hopefully, making the cookies rattle inside.

Remus took a deep breath, thinking it over as he stared at Sirius. He heaved a sigh when he reached a conclusion, his chest deflating as some of the anger left his body. "Fine."

He gestured for Sirius to take a seat while he went over to place the half-opened package in another room. Sirius opened the box of cookies and left it on the coffee table before sitting down on the couch, tapping his fingers over his legs as he waited.

The couch was probably big enough for three people, but when Remus walked over, he eyed the free spot next to Sirius and sat on the floor in front of the table instead.

Well, their thighs were definitely not touching this time.

The air was so tense as Remus started up the game, that Sirius thought it would snap and hit them both in the face.

Cocoa padded over and jumped onto the sofa, placing his head on Sirius' lap.

"Traitor," Remus muttered, making Sirius snort despite the heavy atmosphere. From where he was sitting, Sirius could only see his profile, but he was sure he saw the man throw a sideway glance at him and purse his lips. He reached over to grab a cookie, biting into it with extra force, and he instantly pulled a face. "These cookies suck."

Sirius was surprised by such a blatant answer. He leaned forward on his elbows, placing his chin on his hands to try and hide the blush he could feel creeping up his neck.

"They can't be that bad." He snatched one from the box, propping it in his mouth under Remus' attentive eyes, and instantly started coughing. "Oh my god."

"Where the hell did you buy them?"

"How did they turn out so bad?!"

"Wait…" Remus turned to look at him fully, his lips pressed in a thin line to suppress a smile, "did you make these?"

"No," Sirius replied instantly.

"Oh God, you did!"

"Très bien, je les ai faits! I'm sorry I offended you with my awful cooking skills, I just wanted to give you the neighbourly welcome I owed you, d'accord?"

"What are you, 60? Minnie from the floor below made biscuits for me when I moved in."

Sirius sputtered, placing a hand over his heart, "what?! She never made cookies for me!"

“It’s not a competition, jeez.”

“But I wanted cookies,” Sirius pouted.

“You can have these,” Remus deadpanned as he flicked the box.

“Ugh, stop that. That’s the last time I try doing something nice for you,” he grumbled. Remus looked stunned for a second before he turned away.

It was quiet while each of them chose their team and started playing. They were a lot more relaxed in their game than they'd been last time, although that didn't mean they weren't giving it their best.

After a while of being absolutely silent, Sirius sighed. He felt Remus throw a quick side glance at him before looking back at the front.

"I owe you another apology."

The sound of the buttons being pressed and the low noises from the TV were the only things that could be heard as they both stared stubbornly at the screen.

"What for?"

"I've been an ass."

"Yeah, you have."

Sirius chuckled once, "yeah, I have," he said softly. He ran a hand through his hair, checking the score. He was winning, but he didn't really care this time around. "My family...they don't approve of my line of work. I'm not trying to make excuses for my behavior or anything, I just...I was having a really rough time that day." Remus raised an eyebrow at the TV, making Sirius laugh again, "and the days after that too. Damn, my friends had to check up on me every day to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid.” He glanced down nervously, afraid that he’d said too much, but Remus was still staring at the tiny players. “I just needed to get out of the flat as fast as possible. I wanted to apologise afterwards, but I didn't even know it was you. Bottom line is, I am on edge whenever they get involved in my life, and I act stupidly, and I am sorry you got caught up in that. I promise I am working on it."

Remus was silent for a few minutes, mulling something over in his head.

"Hospital," he whispered finally.

"What?"

"I was in the hospital when my mum gave me that." He hesitated before saying more. Sirius wanted to see what expression he was making. "I was stuck there for a long time, alone, and that painting was the only thing that kept me from feeling trapped. It helped me calm down."

Sirius’ heart gave a painful tug at the desolation in Remus’ voice. He had no idea how they’d gotten into this heart-to-heart moment, but his hand instinctively left the controller as he bent down to place it on top of Remus’, giving it a light squeeze.

Remus was startled, finally turning to look at Sirius. The sounds from the game kept ringing in the background, but none of them were looking at it anymore.

“I really am sorry,” he said, gazing intently at him. Remus’ eyes were the richest shade of gold he’d ever seen, glowing warmly, and Sirius was sure that he could light up even the darkest corners of his being. How had he not noticed this before?

The room went a bit colder when those eyes left his to glance at their hands.

“Are you ok?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah, I just-” Remus removed his hand to rub at his neck. “I have things to do. You should go.”

It was clearly a lie, and Sirius knew not to push it.

As he made his way back to his own flat, he had no idea if he’d fixed anything or if he’d just made everything worse.

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #My One in a Million #writing #fanfic #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #logan tremblay #finn o'hara

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pepperpills · 3 years

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The Harvest - RE8 fanfic

The Harvest

A Resident Evil 8 fan fiction by Joana

Karl Heisenberg x Female Reader

NSFW content

Hi, guys, hope u're enjoying it and if u want, feel free to send a message and share your thoughts.

This is the second half of Part I, when The Harvest actually takes place, as I promised I would be posting it today. Part II will be out next tuesday and has more of Karl's participation.

Part I - Destiny (1)

Part I - Destiny (2)

The site was formed by four giant statues, each one in a corner, in the opposite side of the gate, a low stone fence protected people from falling from a cliff into the misty unknown that laid below. All of its surroundings were made of grey, antique stone, carved directly into the mountain. In the middle stood a symbol in the ground in the shape of an umbrella where the Giant’s Chalice was placed.

Mother Miranda was right in the middle, dressing her usual priest like costume, only this time her areola was bigger. The parents, your parents included, with their anxious expressions, were on the left side, forming a mid-circle. No other villagers were allowed in The Harvest except the children’s guardians, it was exclusive. You smiled to your folks reassuring them that you were okay, prepared. Your mom buried her head deeper in your father chest, but smiled insecurely back at you.

You couldn’t help the feeling that a couple of eyes were laid on you, you felt observed and finally gave up to your curiosity and stared at the lords. Closer to Mother Miranda, on the right side of the site, stood tall Lady Dimitrescu, the tallest person you have ever seen and also one of the most elegant. She wore a white dress that resembled the Greek columns with three black roses on it, red lipstick and a black wide hat. She seemed excited as she analysed the 20s.

Then followed Lady Beneviento, her face covered in a grief veil, she was all dressed in black, except for her doll, Angie, who wore an unclean wedding dress and was laughing almost hysterically for no reason. It would have given you the chills if you weren’t so strangely calm.

The next was Lord Moreau, forever bowed with that bone crown topping his head, he looked like he enjoyed the spirit of the festival, more entertained by its totality than the young people there.

And at last, Lord Heisenberg, a couple of steps from you as you all closed the circle. He was smoking a cigar, making a mess of bracing smoke. He was wearing round sunglasses even though it was already very dark there, his clothes were crumpled and even a bit dirty, but had an explorer’s charm to it as he wore a once-white half unbuttoned shirt, a worn hat, a camel-coloured overcoat and some kind of baggy pants.

You had the uncanny feeling it was his glance that caught you since you arrived there, but couldn’t be sure, once his eyes were hidden from you. The other thing you noticed was that he has kind of handsome with his somewhat grey hair on the height of his bearded chin. Overall, he seemed rough, a brute beauty, but beauty anyway.

The air became denser, like it was charged with electricity, however, scanning your mates, everyone appeared to be still bewitched by Beneviento’s powers, paying attention only to Mother Miranda. It had nothing to do with you disliking Miranda ever since you laid your feet in the Village. No, this was another thing. You were attracted by something else, tempted even to look to your right. Being too suggestible to battle this urge, you moved your head only to be certain that Lord Heisenberg was looking straight at you.

You quickly turned your attention back to Miranda as she played with a black liquid inside the Giant’s Chalice. She called you all her children and made a speech about destiny and natural forces that pull you to it.

“Night demands you, my children. The moon reveals your fate and today your sacrifice will be noticed.” Miranda chanted, her voice floating through all of you, reverberating the ground.

She blessed you, walking the circle and pinning a dot of the Chalice’s black liquid in your foreheads. It moved, itching a little, as her words filled the ceremony site.

“Very well.” She spoke. “Now I shall call your names, the ones I call, please step to the right part of the site, the ones I don’t, to the left.”

A shiver flowed through your spine, awakening every part of your body, bristling your hair, hardening your nipples making you feel completely unclad – which kind of reached the ceremony idea of a virgin blossoming. The sensation was curiously similar to electrical shock, even the iron taste on your tongue reminded you of the electricity discharge, nonetheless, for your surprise, it wasn’t exactly unpleasant, definitely made your feel alive and even dilatated your pupils.

When it happened, you swore your heard Lord Heisenberg chuckling alone, he was contained for obvious reasons, but it disturbed you to see a smirk playfully on his scarred thick lips. No one else appeared to be bothered though, they hadn’t noticed the man acting schizophrenic, but it also made sense, they were all absorbed by Miranda’s discourse and, somehow, that grin was intended, presumably, only for you.

Just then you realized that Miranda had already been calling names and people were actually moving around you. Two of the boys who came with you were now on the very right side of the site. You were getting tense, the magical feeling that drove you to that place was slowly fading away, giving space to the cold sensation of fear. The girl to your left got called, she lost her breath as she heard her name, but rapidly joined her new, and temporary, team.

You looked up to your parents, your mom had that overwhelmed expression lines on her forehead again and you were most sure she was crossing fingers as she is a little stitious, not super, though.

Right now, you don’t believe that any herb, crystal, sacrifice, nor witchcraft would have spare you from your doom. A part of you knew it, even at that moment, as Mother Miranda made your name thunder in the site. Your mom held a scream, your dad looked down. You must go on.

Trembling a little, you went to the right side, closer to Lord Heisenberg, as he was the last one on the lords’ line. Your mates were rigid, the other girl was holding tears, one of the boys had desperate written all over his face, but the other one preferred to show bravery and you chose to stay with him in his decision. It didn’t past unnoticed to Heisenberg, but he constantly peering at you wasn’t of your greater attention, so on you didn’t acknowledge his offbeat interest.

You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you were afraid. You didn’t want Lady Dimitrescu to use your blood in her famous Sanguis Virginis, neither to be with Lady Beneviento and her forever tea party, Lord Moreau frightens you, due to your thalossophobia and for Lord Heisenberg, his temper is well known and poorly spoken by the villagers, he tends to get angry easily, not to say that no one knows what goes on in that factory, the bridge that leads to it emerges from the water, activated by some sort of mechanism that is inaccessible from the Village, so no one goes in, no one comes out.

When The Harvest ended, the villagers were exempted before the Miranda and her family, and you were allowed to go home, the lords knew you were supposed to say goodbye to your loved ones, after all, they aren’t monsters, right?

Thus, you walked back home in your parents embrace, they didn’t let you go, neither you wanted it. Being held like that made it feel better as if you had a bad dream and that was all. Your mother even sang you your favourite childhood song about a girl who gets lost in the dangerous woods inhabited by four monsters and a malevolent witch, but in the end, her parents save her from the beasts.

In the dawn, no villager was asleep, so you spoke to a lot of people, all your siblings, friends and acquaintances. Some of them cried, others smiled and a couple encouraged you saying it was going to be okay. You doubted it, but didn’t say a thing, you were too shaken still trying to be brave.

When the sun rose, you heard the chicken starting their day. You got up, put on a Victorian black dress with long sleeves and a corselet for the thorax area, and packed your few belongings, taking good care of your bow and arrows that once were a secret and now, you thought, might be discarded, but you would still be stubborn and give it a try, maybe they would let you have it.

You left the bedroom, leaving behind your talisman made by the cabin people with a note to your younger sister. Once she was born in the Village, she didn’t know much about the cabins, but you were sure it would protect her after you were gone.

You believed you could go away unnoticed, but your mom was sitting in the kitchen table, waiting for you, looking restless, but she found vitality to smile a good morning at you.

“You look pretty.” She said as she walked towards you and twirled your hair.

“Thank you, mom.” You simply replied, thinking that touch was soothing.

“We will miss you.” She sighed. “I will miss you, deeply, my angel.” Your mom is one of the kindest people you know, she always took good care of you even when you got older, you will miss her too.

“I will miss you too, mom… I love you.” You added and hugged her. You must be strong; her smell of country flowers softened you tempting you to run away from your fate.

“Promise you will try to write.” She pleaded, staring into your soul with her woody-brown eyes.

“I promise.” You meant it and did afterwards.

“It is okay, angel, you may go now, I won’t make it any harder.” She stepped aside, giving you space to walk to the door, when there you looked back one last time and waved goodbye.

At the ceremony site, they said you should gather again at the Chapel. A part of the building is destroyed, you are not sure what was responsible for it, but there are parts of the ceiling and the ground that are missing and underground tunnels with Gods know what meandering under your feet. The others arrived not long after you and less than an hour later Mother Miranda joined you.

She spoke from the pulpit. This sight gave you an uneasiness. You never liked her manners, always thought she considered herself too much of a priest, but you were not sure for what gods she spoken, in addition, she was also very domineering. There were stories of her whispered by mourning souls saying that she would tear some locals apart while laughing and enjoying the bloody spectacle. Maybe she was crazy. Believing it or not, she didn’t please you at all.

“Children.” She began. “Destiny calls you. You must fulfil your role in this circle. It is a sacrifice for all of us, so we can preserve our way of life.” Miranda went on like this for some more minutes before getting to the point.

“Each one of you has been designated or requested by one of the four lords. I will now say your name and the name of your Lord.” She finally said.

Your heart rate was worrying, your anxiety levels were high. You breathed heavily, trying to regain composure. Miranda called the brave boy first, he went to Moreau. Two girls got sent to the Dimitrescu’s castle, one more boy went to Moreau, another girl went to Lady Beneviento. Thus, there was only you left and Miranda’s phrase reverberated through the Chapel with its angelical acoustic turning horrifying.

“Y/N. Lord Karl Heisenberg.”

Your stomach sunk. You didn’t know if you were relieved or even more preoccupied. But then you felt that shock sensation again, the iron taste made you salivate and you thought it might have been worst, maybe all he expects from you is some cleaning, laundry and your normal daily routine.

Still, one thing that Miranda said echoed in your head: did you get designated or did he request you? You didn’t know which one would be better.

#resident evil #re8 #karl heisenberg #re village #karl heisenberg x reader #resident evil 8 village #heisenberg #heisendaddy #heisenberg resident evil #resident evil viii #resident evil 8 fanfic #original post #resident evil village #re8 karl heisenberg #resident evil heisenberg #fanfic #re fanfic #the harvest

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where-theres-smoak-2 · 3 years

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10 More Little Details from JATP.

I made this post a few days ago about all the little details I had spotted in JATP and I said that there were probably more that I had missed, well I found more that I missed. Again most of these are probably old news to most people but they are new to me and I always get excited about the details, the nitty gritty of a show and I over analyse everything so I figured I would share all my thoughts with you guys. Obviously there are spoilers. I’m going to start off with some smaller details first just some funny little things I spotted then we can take a trip down the rabbit hole and really go crazy with the whole over analysing thing.

1) Starstruck.

Hey you remember this truly iconic and amazing scene where Willie and Alex literally fall for each other?

Well I think considering how much chemistry was going on in that scene I can be forgiven for not noticing this at first but the star on the ground next to them has the name Dave Hoge written on it and I kept thinking the name sounded familiar.

Then I remembered that David Hoge is the name of one of the producers on the show so I think this is in relation to him unless there’s another Dave Hoge that I don’t know about.

2) Post It’s.

Speaking of little details floating around in the background. If you’ve read my other posts I talked about how Luke’s missing person poster was behind him when he was eating the hotdog. Well there’s another interesting poster right next to it. Unfinished business at the orpheum. Also note that the date on the unfinished poster is Dec 1994 and we know that Luke ran away from home in december which coupled with its proximity to his missing persons poster makes me think that his unfinished business has something to do with his parents.

Also later in episode 3 when Alex and Willie are talking on the bench there are so more fun posters behind them.

Ok so if you can pull your eyes away from the beauty of Willex for a moment (I know its hard) you can see that one of the posters says detention and a second that says Small Dark Room and again mentions the orpheum. Obviously this is a throwback to when the boys were detained in a small dark room before being pulled back into the world by Julie. But another thing worth noting is that the Small Dark Room poster has a purple background and you are going to get tired of me saying this but purple is associated with magic, know of any magician’s in the show? I can’t help but wonder if Caleb was actually keeping them detained in that room for some reason waiting until he needed them, the purple could indicate that magic was what trapped them there.

3) Poisoned Hotdogs?

One of the theories I had was that the boys didn’t die from food posioning but that Caleb had actually heard them play whilst they were alive and decided that he wanted the band right there and then, so he posessed Sam the hot dog guy and actually poisoned the boys. Since then I have found some evidence that might back up that theory. If you look again at that detention poster above, undeneath in yellow writing is the word toxic. So the posters if you put them all together actually spell out a sequence of events, Toxic as in the boys are poisoned, detention and small dark room as in they were trapped in the small dark room, unfinished business, they come back and are released from that small dark room because they have unfinished business. Still not convinced? Well how about this in the episode when they find out about Bobby, Luke is wearing a shirt that says poison on the back. Coincidence? Hmm I think not.

4) Tell Me What You’re Longing For.

So in episode 2 when Julie comes home and finds the boys in her room each of them seem to be obsessing over a particular object. On the surface this just seems like a funny scene but when you look a bit deeper the objects that each of the boys choose actually says a lot about each of their characters and where they are at mentally and emotionally in that moment.

Alex for example has fixated on the photo of Julie and her mum and is trying to pick it up. It seems to me that Alex has chosen this particualr object because its what he longs for with his own parents. In the photo its a happy little girl and her mother is kissing her and showing her affection. Also the boys know a little about Julie’s mum at this point and so they know how supportive and loving she was to Julie. We know that after Alex told them he was gay his parents, well Luke says they were never cool again, but we can guess that they didn’t show Alex much love and affection after that. This obviously would have really hurt Alex. Another reason why I don’t think Alex got much affection from his parents is because when Julie was crying after singing Wake Up Alex’s first instinct was to hug her, he also reprimands the boys for not hugging him when he was crying in that room for 25 years, this shows that a hug was something that he wanted. Also he always seems surprised whenever Willie would take his hand like its something he’s not used to. He hesitates before hugging Willie in episode 9 seeming to be conflicted and unsure before he finally gives in and just sinks into Willie, I mean to me it just seemed so desperate like he needed that contact but because he was never really hugged by his parents he is unsure about whether its ok or not. Also the most telling of all is also in episode 9 when he asks if they can try that hug thing again. Basically I don’t think Alex’s parents hugged him enough if at all and so when he sees that photo of a mother showing love to her child he is drawn to it as its something he has always wanted.

If we move onto Luke, he is trying to get his hands on Julie’s dream box. Again this is really in line with his character. We know that Luke is all about following your dreams. Also we find out that Julie stores her song lyrics in that box and we all know how passionate Luke is about writing and music. I do find it kinda funny that Luke zeros in on the one thing in the room that’s connected to Julie’s music. It’s like he’s got a radar that could sense that that was where Julie had hidden her music away. Also in my previous post I mentioned the connection between Caleb and Greek Mythology well this could be another nod at Greek Mythology. It could be a nod to pandora’s box. Today pandora’s box has a lot of negative connotations around it, how many times have you been warned not to do something in case you open pandora’s box? It’s this idea that bad things will be let into the world. However in the myth Pandora shuts the box and locks hope inside of it. The myth tells us that its this hope that helps the humans get through all of the hardships that had come from the box so it does kinda have a happy ending or I should say a hopeful ending. It’s interesting to me that Julie says that the box is just full of things that don’t make her sad. Julie has all of the bad things out in the world with her and has locked hope away in that box. Just like Zeus says to Pandora, Julie tells Luke not to open the box, and just like Pandora, Luke ignores her and does open that box. When he does he releases hope and happiness back into Julie’s life. But its not just Julie that locks her emotions up, Luke does too. He is ignoring his feeling about his parents and his regrets, he trys to ignore his feelings about Julie too, however one emotion he does let out is his anger at Bobby. I think when it comes to Luke you could say that he himself is the box but that he is the opposite of Julie in the sense that he’s keeping all of these negative emotions trapped inside and has locked hope out. Julie is the one who opens that box for him and lets those emotions go when she helps him feel connected to his parents, before he thought he had no hope of ever being able to make things right with them again but Julie shows him that he can. She does it again when all the boys have resigned themselves to their fate because they don’t think there is any hope that they’ll be able to play the orpheum and therefore complete their unfinished business. But then Julie shows up to snap them out of it and remind them that there is still hope and not to give up. She comes up with a plan and gives hope back to them just as they did for her. We know that Luke longs for a connection to people through music and this is exactly what he gets from that box he finds a connection to Julie through their joint pain at losing their mothers, the pain that helps them write the songs for the band and eventually find hope.

Ok so then we come to Reggie. At first glance it doesn’t look like Reggie is doing anything at all, I mean he’s just laying on the bed. But actually this too can be significant to his character. He’s not just laying on the bed he is stroking the bed sheets and looks very relaxed and content, he’s got his eyes closed and he’s just enjoying the comfort he’s feeling. I think this tells us that what Reggie is longing for is home. Reggie seems to enjoy anything to do with the home. We know that Reggie likes to spend his time more in the house with Julie’s family than he does out in the studio. He also made that comment about liking showers and the occasional bath, I don’t know about you guys but when I think about home I think about warm baths and cozy beds and hanging out with my family, those home comforts so to speak. These are all the things that Reggie is drawn to. Also if you think about the country song he wrote its called Home is Where My Horse Is. Again he’s thinking about home. The scene where the boys get emotional about Ray talking to Rose is also significant. I mean when you think about this is a man who is talking about his home and the memories he made there with his family and who is faced with leaving his home when he clearly doesn’t want to leave. Reggie’s reaction to this is to go back to his own home, to go see his parents. When he gets there its to find his home is gone. We know this hurts him because it comes up again later when they find out Bobby has stolen their songs, after Luke says it’s not about the money Reggie points out that if Bobby has shared with their families maybe his home wouldn’t have been turned into a bike shop. Losing his home is hitting Reggie hard and so when they all return to Julie’s room the thing that draws Reggie in is that feeling you get from being in bed at home.

Each object the the boys choose are representing what each of the boy is longing for most. Alex longs for a loving parent, Luke longs for a connection to someone through music and Reggie is longing for home.

5) Gone with the Wind.

This is one that is probably really obvious but in episode 1 when julie goes to the studio as she opens the doors a breeze rushes out. We know from the fact that she apologises for not going there that this is likely the first time she has visited since her mom died. I think this breeze is like her mother’s spirit is rushing out and into the world.

You can see that the breeze is moving from the inside out from the direction Julie’s shirt is rippling. I like to think that once her spirit was released Rose got to work right away putting all those little clues/ dahlias about the place.

6) Sunflowers.

In episode 9 within the first few minutes we get several images of sunflowers.

First when Alex is talking to Willie there’s some flowers outside of a shop, then when they go into the Orpheum’s office place there’s a vase of sunflowers on the desk, when they get back to the studio you can see that there is another vase of sunflowers on the unit behind the boys and then finally Julie is wearing a top with a sunflower on it. Sunflowers represent loyalty and are also another connection to greek mythology. The story of the origin of the sunflower goes that a woman named Clytie fell in love with the sun god Apollo. There are different versions of the myth and in some versions Apollo loves her back but then falls in love with someone else and in others he never loves her back. But in every version the outcome is the same Clytie is turned into a sunflower and she is so in love and loyal to Apollo that she continues to watch him fly across the sky in his chariot every day. This is why sunflowers are associated with adoration and loyalty. But the Myth also tells the story of loving or wanting something that you can’t have. This theme comes up alot in the show. First with Julie and Luke, its that star crossed love, they have feeling for each other but one’s a ghost and the other is a lifer. But I actually think the sunflowers are a hint at what was to come in the episode. Afterall the yellow of the sunflower is symbolic of friendship so I actually think Caleb is the one that wants something he can’t have. He wants the band but ultimately he can’t have the band because of the loyalty and friendship they have with Julie.

7) It’s All About The Accessories.

Another thing I noticed on rewatch is that several of the characters have necklaces that might have some significance. The first I want to talk about is Luke. Luke is nearly always wearing this necklace.

I think the only time he isn’t wearing it is at the end of episode 9 when he is that suit outfit. Now I’m not going to pretend to be an expert on semi-precious stones because I’m not but I do have an interest in them and their symbolism and properties. I’m fairly sure (though not certain) that this is Agate, or more specifically Black Agate. Now if I’m right and this is Agate then it could have some really interesting symbolism. Agate is used as a grounding stone, it’s suppose to help keep you grounded and balanced. It brings stability. We know that something is grounding the boys to this earth, to be clear I’m not saying its the stone but that the stone is symbolic of that connection that is keeping them here and connected to Julie. Agate is also suppose to help with emotional trauma and black agate is often given in times of bereavement to help ease the pain of grief. We know that Luke is grieving about losing his mother and father and seeing them grieve for him, so its really interesting to me that he is wearing a stone that is meant to help ease that pain as that is exactly what happens, through his song Unsaid Emily he is able to bring some comfort to his parents and ease their pain, in doing so he also eases his own pain. Another propeity of agate is that its suppose to protect agaisnt evil curses. Again this connects to Caleb and the curse he puts on the boys and how ultimately that curse is broken, Julie protects the boys with her love. So I think this stone not only represents Luke but also represents Julie and how she protects and brings comfort to the boys and Luke in particular. Another interesting thing about Agate is that it is closely related to the moon. Why is that interesting you might ask well because of this...

Julie is also nearly always wearing the same necklaces, one I think is a saint or virgin mary, the second is her name with a flower, which I think indicates the deep connection she has with her mother and the third has moons. The moon is often associated with magic and like said agate is closely related to the moon, It is another link between Luke and Julie and the ‘magic’ that connects them. I mentioned in that previous post that Julie often wears the colour purple which is also associated with magic but more on that later. Again I think its really interesting that both Julie and Luke wear necklaces that can be connected to the other.

But I don’t think they are the only characters that wear necklaces that might be linked. The next one I want to talk about is Willie.

We often see Willie wearing this key on a chain around his neck. The most obvious symbolism here is that Willie is the key to something. It could be that it symbolised how Willie was the key to bringing the boys to the Hollywood Ghost Club or the fact that he was the key to finding out more about the ghost world in general, I mean Alex and by extension the boys learn alot from Willie. I like to think its also because he is the key to Alex’s heart but that’s probs just my shipper heart influencing me. Another thing it could symbolise is maybe Willie is the key to their unfinished business somehow. I am really curious to know what the key goes to I mean keys unlock things. Like...

you know padlocks. I do think there might be some connection between one character wearing a key and another a padlock which is opened by a key. It could be a hint that Willie and Flynn will have some kind of connection, maybe they will have to work out a mystery together or act as a team to help the band and the only way they can do it is by working together. I also think the fact that Flynn is wearing the padlock is signifcant. Padlocks to me represent safety and security, you put a padlock on something that you want to protect or keep secure. Interestingly the name William means protector or warrior. I do think that Willie and Flynn will have an important role to play in protecting the band. Ok so next lets talk about Alex.

Alex also has a necklace that he wears often. His is a simple gold chain. But again I think it has some symbolism to his character. Chains have been a symbol of everlasting love and life since ancient times, its the circle that never ends. We are all pretty sure that its the bands everlasting love that saves them from Caleb in the end. Also Willie’s love for Alex (and yes I’m saying love) is what leads to Willie trying to save them too. But chains also have a negative connotation, one of opression. As I talked about earlier Alex has been judged for being gay and likely faced alot of opression due to his sexual orientation. Chains are also symbolic of inprisonment which again links into Caleb’s plan to trap the boys at his club. Gold is also associated with purity as it never tarnishes or rusts and well is there a more pure soul than Alex’s? Something else that is interesting is that in many cultures gold was used in burials as it is said to protect the souls in the afterlife which is similar to Luke’s Agate necklace which is also used during times of bereavement. Another thing that is similar between Gold and Agate is that gold is also said to protect against curses and is often related to magic. So lastly we have Reggie.

Gonna be honest this one was a little harder and I spent a little while studying the necklace and doing a little bit of research, the reason why this one was harder is because there seem to be three different materials at play here. There’s the light blue beads, the dark blue beads (which I thought were black at first they’re not) and the metal pendant. But lets start with the light blue beads, to me they look the most like blue calcite. Again not an expert but if it is blue calcite it again has some interesting symbolism to it because blue calcite is often used to enhance psychic powers so that you can commune with the spiritual world. I mean obviously this is symbolic of the fact that Julie is able to see and communicate with our ghostly boys. The dark blue beads I think are lapis lazuli, again if I’m correct then this is another stone that is used during burial because it is thought to protect and guide spirits in the after life. It also like gold and agate is said to protect, it protects you agaisnt psychic attack and said to be able to block curses. The metal pendant was the hardest part for me, at first I thought maybe it was silver but to me it looks too dark and dull to be silver. What it could be though is lead. And yup you guessed it lead is also linked to death as well as spells.

So yeah pretty much every character has a necklace that has some kind of symbolism around it and even more curious than that alot of them can be connected to each other. All three of the boys have stones or metals that are meant to protect and are associated with both death and spellwork. Those stones also link back to the moon. The other thing worth pointing out is that Willie also wears a shell necklace which obviously can be connected to the ocean which is also connected to the moon. Gold can be connected to the sun and Lapis Lazuli is also often connected to the sun, the sun is often connected to the moon as they both represent cycles and opposites, willie wears a key that connects to Flynn’s padlock, basically all of them can be connected to each other in some way. But of course I could be reading way too much into this and they’re really are just pretty necklaces.

8) Cats and Dogs.

Speaking of accessories I do want to go back and focus on Flynn again for a moment. One thing I noticed about Flynn is that its not just the padlock that is a consistent thing with her outfits. She is often also dressed in clothing that has cat prints. She also has cats on her backpack and in episode 2 she wears a necklace with a cat on it along with her padlock necklace.

Rmemeber earlier when I said I thought Flynn would play the part of a sort of protector to the band well as you can see Flynn often wears leopard print, in African lore the leopard is said to be the guardian of the dead and is said to show the way to the next realm. There is a similar myth in Ancient Eygptian culture through the cat goddess Bastet, whilst she had many forms throughout time and many duties one of which was to protect and guide. Another interesting thing about this goddess is that she was also the goddess of women’s secrets. We know that Flynn is the only one that Julie told about the band. Also leopards are seen as a counselor in the spirit animal world a role that Flynn often plays for Julie. The leopard represents your psychic self and future telling. Again this fits Flynn’s story as it is her who figures out that Julie’s mother is leaving signs and working behind the scenes so to speak.

But whilst it seems to me that cat’s are more heavily associated with Flynn’s character its not the only animal that can be linked to Flynn. She also is sometimes seen with dog imagery. She sometimes carries a dog purse.

Since ancient times dogs have been considered to be psychic and also able to see ghosts. This could be a hint that in season 2 Flynn will also be able to see the boys. Also like the cat the dog in ancient greek mythology is associated with the dead and is also a guardian for the afterlife, hades has a three headed dog named cerberus that guards the gates to the afterlife.

Other cat/ dog imagery can be seen in those posters I mentioned earlier.

Of course this could all be just a coincidence and might not mean anything at all. But what else is interesting about these posters is if you look at the cat one again, it’s accompanied by a poster showing someone playing music and what to me looks like a spirit type thing appearing. Then there’s the one with the cat right under it which is interesting because the poster says mammoth offspring on it but that defo looks like a cat to me not a mammoth. As a slight tangent though the mammoth thing could be a reference to the talk about bringing the wooly mammoth back from extiction, its symbolic of that idea of bringing back to life something that has been long dead. Anyway under that there’s a poster of a woman with a moon in the sky and the words acting moon. Cats are often closely related to the moon and both the moon and cats are closely related to witchcraft. What does that matter you might ask? Well...

9) So we’re going with witch?

Remember that hilarious scene in episode 1 when the boys are discussing how Julie got all her stuff in their studio so fast Reggie offers up the suggestion that Julie is a witch because there are chairs floating on the ceiling. Luke is inclined to agree with him at first before Alex shoots them down. I think this is another one of those scenes where you just think its a funny moment but then when you think about it makes perfect sense. I mean I legit think Julie is a witch, or at least she has some kind of magic. There are so many things that link her with magic. I already talked earlier about the moon necklace she wears. But she also has a moon on her jeans in episode 1.

Again the moon is heavily linked with magic. Also there is the fact that her companion Flynn seems to be linked to cats and witches often have cats as companions/ familiars.

As I said earlier the colour purple is representative of magic well the first time Julie makes the boys appear to an audience in Bright the light that the technician sets on her is purple meaning Julie literally glows purple before she does this magical act of making the boys visible.

A similar thing happens before their performance for Finally free though its not as intense. But you can see that purple glow around her.

And again, whilst its more subtle, for Edge of Great when Julie is coming out of the studio the light in the studio is purple and once again she appears to be glowing purple.

Also this would again put her as an equal rival for Caleb. We know that he is a magician so in my opinion it would make sense for Julie to posess some kind of magic, like I said her and Caleb are opposite sides of the same coin. So yeah in conclusion Reggie and Luke are right Julie is a witch.

Edit: Also I forgot to add this one in but in episode 9 she is wearing a top that says ‘Mystic Child’ on it along with flowers and moons and stars.

10) All Eyes On Bobby.

So the final thing I want to talk about is Bobby/ Trevor. Don’t ask me why because I would not be able to tell you but I can’t help but be intrigued by his character. I wonder why he did what he did, why did he steal the songs and not give the others any credit? Did he grieve his friends? Or are they trying to paint him as like this villian who doesn’t care about anyone? Well I actually think we can get some answers to these questions from a rather interesting place. His daughter’s song All Eyes On Me. If you take some of the lyrics and put them in a different context I really do think they can be linked back to Bobby. There are several connotations to stealing, ‘I'm stealing all the attention’ or another one is ‘Stealing looks, it's robbery’ and another one ‘ I'm taking over your playlist’ I mean bobby really did take over Luke’s playlist in the sense that he took all the songs. So now that we’ve established that this song could very well be hinting at bobby what else can the song tell us about his motives and mindset. Well there is that section ‘ They don't get the shine that I get, Some get jealous, They can't help it, They wish they were me.’ I actually think this part is about Luke. Julie says that whilst the album he released of Luke’s songs did really well his other albums weren’t as good. Now she doesn’t say that they are bad just that they weren’t getting the same attention Luke’s were. This also tells us that Bobby like Luke also wrote songs. But I think that Luke’s songs always got more attention and praise and over time Bobby began to gain some jealousy towards Luke because as the song says Bobby doesn’t have the shine that Luke does and Bobby wishes he was Luke. More evidence in the song that Bobby felt this way comes from the opening lines ‘ Whenever I walk in the room, All the focus on me, The way I talk, the way I move, They all want on my team.’ I feel like this might have happened alot, that Luke would just get loads of attention whenever he walked into a room and everyone wanted to talk to him. Then if you look at these lines ‘ I make an entrance when I don't try, don't try, Cause all I see is all eyes on me, I only lead, I never follow, follow.’ Again this could be a hint at how Bobby was feeling towards Luke at that time like Luke got everything easy, he could get attention without trying. Also I’ve always got the vibe that Luke was the leader of the band and so its possible the line about only leading never following could be that Bobby felt that Luke wasn’t paying enough attention to his ideas and was starting to feel a little bit of resentment towards him. Maybe he was also feeling a little like he was in the boys shadows. It’s worth noting that in the song Now or Never whilst Luke, Alex and Reggie all have solo pieces where they sing Bobby doesn’t, yet we know he must be able to sing, I don’t care how good Luke’s lyrics were if Bobby couldn’t sing he wouldn’t have got a platnium record. I think some of this can be picked up in that beginning scene with Sunset Curve and Rose. Bobby is the first one to approach her but then the rest of the group comes over and despite approaching her first he ends up being the last one to give her his name. Also most of the interaction happens between Rose and Luke, Alex and Reggie with Bobby barely speaking at all. I do feel like whilst all the boys were close Bobby was a bit more of a timid one around the others and didn’t stand up for himself or his ideas like the others do. For example we know that Alex and Reggie will push back against Luke. When Luke tells Reggie to stop putting his country songs in his journal you can guarantee this isn’t the first time he’s had to tell Reggie that, also when he says it Reggie just retorts that its a gift and he should have another look at it. This shows that Reggie isn’t afraid to pitch his ideas to Luke even if Luke says no. Also when Luke tells Alex no dancing and Alex just immediately starts dancing as a retort. I get the sense that it wasn’t the same with Bobby. Now don’t get the wrong idea I’m not saying in any way that the boys bullied or deliberately pushed Bobby out more that Luke, Alex and Reggie kind of have this banter and they bounce off each other but it seemed to me like Bobby struggled with this and just couldn’t keep up with it. During the conversation with Rose you can see that Bobby looks a little annoyed and you can understand why, he works up the courage to talk to this girl and instead his bandmates kind of take over the conversation which is why he reminds them about the hot dogs I think he figured if they were gone he’d be able to have a more comfortable conversation with her.

Which brings me to my next question, how did Bobby react to his bandmates deaths and did he ever feel any guilt about stealing the songs. Well on the surface his actions right after seem a bit suspect and there is that line in All Eyes On Me ‘Must have won the lottery’ which if we take this song as actually being about Bobby then it could be construed as he was kinda happy that his band mates died that he almost saw it as a stroke of luck. I mean couple that with the fact that right after their deaths he layed low and changed his name plus the fact that he stole their songs it doesn’t look like he cared all that much and I’ll admit for a hot minute there that is the image I had of him. But then I looked closer and actually there are quite a few signs that Bobby isn’t as fine and dandy as he first seems. One example is the fact that he meditates, meditation is often used by people with mental health issues such as depression, anxiety and insomnia. I’m not saying that just because he meditates he must have some metal health issue just that its a possibilty especially when you combine it with the other hints. For example after the guys haunt him and he rushes out telling Carrie that he’s going to see his therapist, Carrie rolls her eyes. I get the feeling from this that seeing his therapist is something that her dad does often which again could indicate that he was more effected by his bandmates deaths than we know. Another subtle hint that he might be still struggling with their deaths is that we see him returning from a run in episode 9 that along with the meditating and the therapist tells us that he cares about his health and wellness which you know good things but its possible that the reason why he cares so much is because his friends died at a really young age which was traumatic for him and made him think about his own mortality and so he maybe becomes a bit obsessed with his health. Also him laying low and changing his name can be explained by the fact that the press were looking for him we know that from the article Julie read in the pilot. Bobby had just lost his friends and I’m sure the last thing he wanted was the press asking him a load of questions and there’s a good chance he knew that they were looking for him. He and Rose probably exchanged numbers at the Orpheum and seeing as the band were going to play there it wouldn’t be a stretch to think reporters would have gone there to see if they could get a way of contacting Bobby. Rose could have called Bobby to warn him and this is why he changes his name not to cover his tracks because he stole Luke’s songs but because he was avoiding the press so he could grieve in peace. I think he then might have then tried to get his music out there after some time deciding the guys would have wanted him to keep chasing his dreams. But he runs into a problem of nobody is all that interested in his songs, I think in a moment of desperation he plays one of the bands songs, he goes back to something familiar and they love it. He tells one little lie and then it snowballs to the point where he can’t take it back without causing irreparable damage to his reputation. I could see him trying to justify his actions to himself by telling himself that the songs belonged to the band and that he had as much right to them as the boys and well the boys weren’t here so what was the harm. As to why he didn’t give credit to the band it was probably because he knew that if he gave credit he would have to explain what happened to them and then their tragedy would haunt him for the rest of his life, the media and fans would all bring it up, maybe he just thoguht he wouldn’t be able to deal with that pain and so he just stays quiet and then he just gets buried in the lie, the record label wants more songs so he records more and more of Luke’s songs and then when he has enough of a name and loyal following of fans he starts recording his own songs. The reason why I think it went down like this is again from the song All Eyes On Me the verse ‘They know my face, They know my name, Reputation on lock, It's not my fault I got the fame, Ain't my fault it won't stop.’ The beginning part about knowing his name and his reputation on lock makes me think that after that first album he had enough of a reputation to secure himself and that he no longer needed Luke’s songs and I think at this point that guilty consious really kicks in and he decides not to record anymore of Luke’s songs. I really do think Bobby chose not record anymore as we know that he didn’t record all of Sunset Curves songs, he didn’t record bright, finally free or unsaid emily (thankfully) and he could have which to me suggest it was a consious decision on his part to stop. If he really was money hungry and all he cared about was fame and money then he would have recorded the rest of their songs. Another reason why I think Bobby has a bit of a guilty conscious is the line ‘It’s not my fault I got the fame.’ That to me sounds like something someone might say to try and convince themselves that they are not guilty of something, like Bobby is trying to justify his actions by saying that it wasn’t his fault that they died and he lived to go on and be successful, that it was just luck, which would circle back to the line ‘must have won the lottery’ this isn’t about celebration a lottery is about sheer dumb luck and he is recognising that. But here’s the thing that sealed it for me and convinced me that Bobby isn’t this completely heartless person who never cared about his friends.

Just look at this guys face. This is right after the boys appear on stage in Stand Tall. Look his expression isn’t one of jsut shock to me that is the face of a man who is grieving, who is feeling pain at the loss of someone he loved. I mean he looks devastated and his eyes are welling up, this is pure emotion and you’ll never convince me that this is the face of someone who didn’t love those boys like they were family.

I do want to say though that I in no way condone what Bobby did, he either should have given them credit or not recorded the songs. I’m just trying to explain what I think his thought process was during that time and point out that this image that he is some fame hungry monster isn’t entirely true. I do think that we could see him getting a redemption arc in season 2 and maybe some rifts can be mended.

I also think that Carrie will get a redemption arc and will make up with Julie. I do think there is alot of parallels between Sunset Curve and Carrie and Julie. It’s the same story of they were really close friends but then they have a falling out and end up as enemies. I think this is way they use Carrie’s song to tell the story of Bobby and the boys. Another reason why I think they are going to possibly get a redemption arc or at the very least play a bigger part in season 2 is because of the flowers, those little signs that Julie’s mum likes to leave. In episode 9 when Bobby comes in and sees Carrie watching that video on the table is a boquet of flowers, of white roses, white orchids and lilys.

Lilys obviously have a lot of symbolism of remembrance but they also represent rebirth and renewal. Orchids in some cultures represent unity and white orchids are said to represent hope. The roses I obviously think is a connection to Julie’s mum but white roses symbolise new beginnings. This makes me think that there is hope for a new beginning for Bobby, Carrie and Julie and the Phantoms. I do think it’ll be the memory of Rose that brings them all together after all Bobby knows that Rose/ Julie’s mum is the girl they were talking to in the pilot. I think he’ll tell the boys this and I think each of their connections to Rose is what will help mend the rifts between them all.

Ok well that’s it for now because this post is getting way way too long. If you have taken the time to read all the way through this then thank you, let me know what your theories and thoughts are I’d love to hear them. I’m definitely going to be posting more about JATP its my current obession right now the next post is going to be about Alex and Carrie and how I think they might have some kind of plotline in season 2 so keep an eye out for that if you think that is something you would be interested in.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp speculation #jatp spoilers

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captlok · 3 years

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Pacifism Isn’t A Character Trait

Or: MLK Day is Upon Us so Let Me Do You a Learn

Or: As An Aang Stan I Got a Bit Over-Zealous But Lemme Explain Why For A Hot Minute

Plus some History and Tumblr commentary that even non-ATLA fans can chew on

And by ‘hot minute’ I do mean this is going to be a long meta, so strap in. For those of you who just might be tuning into this debacle, I, a person who has not used Tumblr, much at all, except for the last half year, ran into some trouble.

If you wanna skip the whole TLDNR interpersonal stuffs and get straight to Why Aang is the Best Thing Since Sliced Bread, I will embolden the relevant parts, and italicize the crit of Korra, if you want that alongside.

I was excited that ATLA was seeing a resurgence due to the Netflix remake. I wasn’t even trying to apply any steep expectations for it. (learned not to do that the hard way with the last live action adaption, and to a much lesser extent, ATLOK, since it had good . . . elements, *ba dum tsshh*)

So, these are a couple aspects of the issue: (1) Even on the internet, I am extremely introverted and until recently mostly came for content, not socializing. My main online interactions thus far have been in forums and artist-to-artist on DA. Tumblr is still very strange to me because it splits up its ‘threads’ so you can’t see all the replies if a certain pattern of users responds in their own space. I’m not even 100% sure it’s in chronological order, and replies are not nested next to each other so you can look in the comments and someone will be replying to something you can’t see in that window. And also since it is a bizarre hybrid of a blogging system, posts are somehow considered ‘owned by’ or an ‘extension of’ OP in a way forum threads are not. (2) ATLOK was good in a cinematic and musical way, to be sure. It also had some good concepts. I can go into it just appreciating it for the worldbuilding and be somewhat satisfied. But the execution was terrible. I was on AvatarSpirit.Net for years, and If I had maintained my presence on ASN to current day and had gotten around to downloading their archive now that the forum is dead, I would include some links to other peoples’ detailed analyses on just how flawed both the plotting and Korra’s frustratingly flat learning curve was especially in the first two seasons. But, that is a task for another day, and only if people are interested.

No, what I’m addressing today, on the issue of Korra as a writing exercise, is how Mike and Bryan said specifically they wanted to make her ‘as opposite to Aang as possible’ and in so doing, muddied the central theme of the original ATLA series.

Now, again, I was mainly an art consumer for my first major round of ATLA fandom. Tumblr is an alien beast to me. But, after I write my first major Aang meta, talking about how amazing it is that he has the attitude he does, and how being content in the face of this overwhelming pain and suffering is an ONGOING PROCESS and an INTENTIONAL DECISION and not a simple PERSONALITY TRAIT, I start hearing that Aang gets a lot of hate from the fandom. Now this would be bad enough if it were merely people not liking his crowning moment of pacifism because they don’t understand the potential utility (I’ll elaborate on that in another post) or the ethics involved.

Aang is easily the most adult member of the Gaang. But he apparently gets hate for his few moments where he actually acts his age, a preteen, and maybe kisses a girl in a historical timeframe in which ‘consent’ discussions were probably nonexistent. Even in the present day, we are still practically drowned in movies that reinforce this kissing without asking trope. And even some female bodied people complain that asking kills the mood! But somehow he is responsible and reprehensible for this, even though the first time she kissed him back. I’m only going to get into the pacifism discussion today, but that was just another layer of annoyance bouncing around in the back of my head. Other peoples’ crit of Korra that was stewing in my subconscious, plus this Aang bashing, which thankfully I had not directly read much of, made up the backdrop of gasoline for the match that set it off. Even that seems a pretty melodramatic way to phrase what I actually said, which was: Aang, on the other hand, lost dozens of father figures and was being steamrolled by Ozai who was gloating about genocide TO HIS FACE, yet he still reigned in all that quote, ‘unbelievable rage and pain’ (The Southern Raiders). We Stan Aang, the Superior Avatar. No I did not f**king stutter. #AangSupremacy In another meta, someone complained that I was too defensive of Aang as a character and didn’t apply literary analysis enough, which I quickly rectified.

What set this off? Someone was kind of indirectly praising the line from Korra, “When I get out of here, none of you will survive” To them it was emotionally resonant or whatever, and I have to point out that no, it was a martial artist not having control of their state of mind, as is the bedrock of the practice. It was never addressed by the narrative, which is a severe oversight. I had a conversation with someone in the chats, making this distinction between Korra’s character traits and life philosophy. If she were to kill people while enraged and she was fine with that, that’s one thing. But if she regretted it, that’s a whole other kettle of fish. People argue that she comes from a warrior culture, unlike Aang.

Never mind that warrior monks are a thing. That’s what Shaolin monks are. You can be a pacifist and skilled at fighting. Those things are not mutually exclusive, which is the whole point of Bagua, Aang’s style. And also, Katara’s style.

That’s one reason I like Kataang so much- their congruent styles. Both of their real world martial arts are dedicated to pacifism, even though ATLA specifically doesn’t spell that out for Katara and her learning arc.

There was a meta where someone briefly tried to argue that knowing “martial arts” is against pacifism. No. Quite the opposite. I’d argue that you are not a true pacifist unless you know exactly how to handle yourself if someone attacks you. If you are not in a position to make conscious decisions about how much force to use, rather than merely operating on survival instincts, that is not pacifism. Or at least, not any energy or effort towards pacifism as a practical everyday tool. I’ve made a few attempts to learn some tai chi and aikido, and it’s improved my physical and mental health, but some other things have gotten in the way. #lifegoals

I’m not going to tag the unfortunate soul whom I was replying to, because they’re probably tired of all this, but I’ll be sending them a PM to say that I’ve made this into a different post, because as I mentioned before, threads are somehow considered “owned” by OP, so it’s been pointed out to me that I should separate it. I also said, I have basically ZERO respect for Korra uttering violent threats when the writers already minted a far more emotionally devastated and yet still resilient and centered character earlier in their franchise. People always try to excuse away people who genuinely like Aang more. As if it’s just nostalgia or whatever. For me, no, it’s absolutely not. It is respect for a character who stands toe to toe with real people who are kind in the face of overwhelming injustice. (I have another meta on that).

Both OP and people in the chats try to make excuses that she wasn’t raised as a pacifist, and that would be fine if they had addressed it with Tenzin and she had stated outright that she was rejecting pacifism and mind training. As it is, we are left with this nebulous affair where the lines between ideology and personality traits are blurred.

We are told she “has trouble with spirituality” but what does that even mean? Does she have trouble with focus? Does she have trouble relating to the canonically real spirits? And pacifism specifically nor inner peace that it flows from is never even talked about as an extension of spirituality, which is canonically tied to airbending.

“Aang didn't have to deal once with the loss of his autonomy in atla” OP claims.

This was after I had noted that Aang was getting kicked around by Ozai and was most likely going to die. Similarly, someone in the chat rejected the idea that a 12 year old trapped in a stone sphere that is heating up under a cyclone-sized blowtorch feels powerless.

Sorry but that’s flat out ridiculous.

No one wants to admit that both of these people were faced with similar situations, and when push came to shove, one showed his LIFE PHILOSOPHY through conscious effort, and the other was abandoning the basis of martial arts, which is, no matter what the situation, keep thinking. Hold the panic at bay. Non-attachment would have served her well in this situation. Tenzin should have told her this. Before, or afterwards. It should have been addressed in the writing.

People see this as “bashing” Korra, and oh well, can’t help that. If I think the writers didn’t follow through on their themes, that is my concern. OP said I was “offended.” No, not really.

I wasn’t offended by the post itself, or its commentary. Thought I made that pretty clear.

This is not dramatics. Let me be blunt.

As a ideological pacifist, and an actual practitioner of meditation, based on Buddhism, NOT just the fan of some show, I am for calling out writers who write one way from the survivor of genocide, and then stray from that ‘thoughtless aggression is immoral no matter HOW hurt I am’ to ‘let’s not address this character’s aggression in the narrative whatsoever.’ OP attempted to derail by accusing me of being racist or sexist against Korra. Also ridiculous. It honestly should have set me off more, but it didn’t.

Meditation is about reigning in your emotions. Managing your anger when it gets out of hand, and digging down to the roots of it. Being responsible for your own behavoir. Acknowledging ownership of your own actions. Not blaming anything YOU DO on anyone else or any circumstances in your life. Like an adult, or should I say, an enlightened adult.

Or at the very least, that is the ideal ypu strive towards while being imperfect in the present.

. . .

Now.

I’m going to quote a passage in a Google Doc of mine, even though I’d really prefer if you asked to read the whole thing, with context.

“What do humans do when it is necessary to, or greed makes a nation want to recruit?

They go to the army to get trained, right?

Granted, having someone scream and get spittle on your face is, in the grand scheme of things, poor preparation for having bullets whiz past your chest and grenades shatter your ears. And, what do you do to prepare you for the pain of getting your leg blown off? Hopefully, nothing. Like taking a test where you only got half the study guide. But, it’s about the most ethical way to go about it, right?

Not everyone even sees action. So any more more extensive mental preparation for physical pain than that, and you’d have people definitely protesting.

Well, as it turns out, pacifistic protestors themselves, if they were in the right time and place, also very intentionally do this type of mind training. Except, when they did it, they actually did sit still and took turns roughly grabbing each other and throwing each other down and in some cases, even kicking and bruising each other.

Turns out, those pacifists are, in some ways, more hardcore than the army.

Why is this?

Because a pacifist’s aim, unlike a unit, who wants to gain the upper hand in a situation, is to grit their teeth and grind their way through all those survival instincts, and totally submit.

In this, they aim to get the sympathy of the public, who clearly sees they are not aggressive, or a danger, no matter how much the footage is manipulated or suppressed.

In this, they hope to appeal to their attacker’s better nature.

Make them stop and think, wait a second, are these people a threat like we’re told they are? I’m attacking someone who’s letting me beat them up. Or a bunch of people. All forming a line, and letting us peel them off. Or sitting, and bowing their heads. If I’m on the ‘right’ side of things, the law, why am I doing this?

It’s not like a bully, who’s just a kid.” They’re more self-aware.

And might I add the situation influences a pacifist’s actions too. There’s no reason to let a single or a few random attackers beat you up if you can evade or disable without permanent damage.

Pacifism is a dynamic set of responsive actions informed by values. Not a proscribed set or a checklist.

But in terms of organizing against state power, and recording wrongdoing, which unlike during the Civil Rights can happen from all angles from smart phones nowadays, these are the motivations.

“So, the pacifist knows this, and that’s why they go through all that trouble of training themselves to, not only submit, but not turn tail and run, either.”

See, a character trait is something like being a morning person, or ways of handing information, or a given set of emotions a character feels. Once you cross over into actions, you must make the distinction of whether an impulsive character agrees with their own uncontrolled actions, or is embarrassed or remorseful. Those are life philosophy. Now sure, one type of person or character may be more likely to subscribe to pacifism, but there is no gatekeeping on what you have to feel or how you look at things. You can be easygoing, or feel all the rage in the world, but as long as you at least attempt to have a handle on those desires and feelings to where they do not cross into actions, you are still doing the work of metacognition, which is what martial arts and its accompanying mind training are for.

It’s what we see Aang do.

He’s informed us, during the Southern Raiders, on how much rage and pain he feels.

Pain points, TRIGGERS, that were directly struck at when Ozai gloated over him.

He joins with all the past Avatars for several moments, and just like every other time he is in the Avatar State, he is enraged. He wants to exact revenge on the unrepentant grandson of a baby murderer.

We see it when he turns his head away, face still screwed up in anger.

For another example, I could cite my difficulties in being aware and reining in my tongue sometimes. I know the roots of these issues and I seek to let them go.

It’s just that process takes way longer than Guru Pathik would have us assume.

In fact, I would even say that Aang’s portrayal throughout the three seasons is not strictly a realistic representation of at least the sad side of grief. I addressed that a little when I talked about real life figures. But what it IS, is a metaphor that cuts very deep to the heart of pacifism. As I showed in that Doc . . . There is no limit of suffering a pacifist is willing to go through, internal or external, for the preservation of peace.

This was demonstrated during the Civil Rights, and with Gandhi and all his followers beforehand, inspiring them. The pacifists’ method of swaying hearts is probably the reason BLM exists in such numbers as it does today. Will the types of narratives that correspond with their full stories of the way they collectively planned and trained for and approached conflict make it into fantasy media? I’d say, probably not. For a host of reasons.

It could be hoped for, I guess.

But we DO have Aang.

As for myself, whether speaking sharply is an “action,” per se is up for debate- certainly it doesn’t seem to violate the non-aggression principle put forth by the vision of a “stateless society.”

For another example, let’s take my explanation at the beginning. I am examining how circumstances affected my actions, and now am attempting to fix it, if indeed it needs to be fixed.

At least one person said that it not so much what I said, but how and when I said it. I don’t actually think I’ve said anything “wrong” per se. So I have to figure it out.

[I’m considering splitting up this next part into a second post, as it only slightly relates to pacifism itself and is just kinda some more commentary on Tumblr itself- Tumblr discourse, as it were]

[I’ll put more brackets when I’m done in case you want to skip this part as well]

An interesting social difference between Tumblr and other places is this command you often get, “don’t chat/reblog/message me back.”

This is interesting for several reasons. For chats and reblogs, other people may be following the “conversation,” so it’s actually pretty rude and presumptuous to tell a person not to respond to whatever you said, because other people watching still may be interested in your take.

In a forum setting, if someone involved in a conversation doesn’t have anything left to say, usually they just don’t respond.

This method would work perfectly fine for Tumblr, but for some reason, maybe its super odd format, probably due to the “ownership”/“extension of self” I mentioned at the beginning of the essay, people don’t tend to do this.

Now, in comment sections, sometimes you’ll run across an amusing sort of “mutually assured destruction” where two people both say this to each other. You’d better stop responding. Omg just give up. Why are you still arguing. Etc.

But see, no matter where this behavoir pops up, and no matter who starts in on it, those who do this usually want to have the last say on the matter.

Instead of merely not replying, they want to assert verbal control over the conversation.

Tumblr, in its weirdness, is also sort of like a mutant comments section. You can post comment section threads as your own post.

Which is one reason why I’m puzzled when people say ‘don’t read the comment sections’ when Tumblr is so popular.

I’m an oddball in that I browse comment sections for fun.

Probably due to alexithymia, I didn’t really comprehend the emotional toll it takes on many people, so the warnings to “stay out of comment sections” read to me like “hey don’t eat that dessert.” After I’m done with the ‘meal’ of an article or art, I like to see what lots of different people have to say about it. The fluff. Anything vitriolic I either blip over, or extract anything useful, or if I judge the person is reasonable enough, I might engage.

Sometimes I mis-judge on how reasonable someone is, and I shrug and move on after being cussed out or whatever.

In this, I suppose I succeed much of the time in being a verbal pacifist.

[But let’s get back to the more serious stuff.]

We’re talking about what is done in life or death situations, here.

For myself, I may in the near future be working more with dangerously mentally ill people. I’ve had a little exposure to it through various means. Nurses are obligated not to retaliate against patients, and those who have, have been fired in some situations. Again oddly, this is not primarily what triggers my anxiety. Unfortunately enough, this requirement has also resulted in nurses getting seriously injured and violated. I hope to influence whether “no harm” techniques such as tai chi and aikido and arm locks may be allowed. The voluntary philosophy I was luckily already on board with is enforced by bureauacracy, directly relevant to my potential profession.

Were someone to get involved in a dangerous profession, such as a police officer, their moral duty would also be to own up to any spur of the moment anger or fear they acted on.

It’s just that their bureaucracy acts differently, in excusing their actions.

Ideally, they would be taking steps far in advance, to avoid this often-cited fear of death reaction. As training pacifists like Aang do.

And yes, army people are trained differently than police officers because the army, often, even when threatened, is supposed to avoid engagement or deploy deterrents that are non-lethal almost all costs, unless ordered otherwise. Whereas American police are given pretty much complete discretion and often not taught de-escalation techniques. Even police from other nations are better trained in that regard.

Enter the ironically named @avatarfandompolice whose account description should really speak for itself. Combative, dismissive, and their attention-hungry bread and butter is to find people they think it’s acceptable to ridicule. They basically tried to say trauma was a valid excuse to take out your anger on other people, and in this situation, potentially kill.

Now, does this hold up in the real world? Yeah, sometimes. Especially if some law breaker or law keeper has not been given the anger management tools, they perhaps could be excused, or better yet, rehabilitated.

But especially if anyone finds themselves in dangerous situations, or intends to put themselves in such, it falls to them to do this preparation.

As an aphant, I am at a bit of a disadvantage, compared to an average martial artist, being unable to visualize an attacker. But I still attempt it.

As the main “police officer” of the world- the coincidentally blue clad figurehead that is supposed to keep order, it is apparently fine for Korra to not do the work Aang did to keep level. To blow it off as too much trouble: clearing the First Chakra of fear. For herself or others. And its resultant anger. Had she had access to the Avatar State, the authority figure pretty much would have killed people. This is what the “fandom police” and a certain chat goer ultimately support. Maybe they didn’t understand it that way, and since the second had blocked me, they will also never see this explanation. Unless I were to share it in Google Doc form I suppose.

So, I responded. “Remember kids, you are not responsible for your own behavior if you have the excuse that someone else did something bad to you.” A frighteningly common sentiment on this site.

When it’s low stakes like CAPSLOCKING or internet fights, that’s not such a big deal. But what happens if this attitude leaks into the real world? This isn’t even about Korra or Aang anymore, it’s about toxic mindsets. I didn’t know fans taking pro-Korra posts as anti-Aang was a common in the fandom. I’ll say again I’ve only just gotten really active on Tumblr like the past few months. This is about pacifism itself. MLK and his hardworking, training followers (yes some of them sixteen and POC and not super-powered like Korra) facing down firehoses and staging sit-ins long trained for would shake their heads at this defense of reactionism.

Pacifism is not a Personality Trait.

It is deliberate actions and preparation taken over a period of time.

Then the “fandom police” tried more of this, and these two conversations ensued, the comments with another user resulting in the title and main thesis of this essay:

https://captlok.tumblr.com/post/638777472806273024/avatarfandompolice-response-to-my-independent

https://captlok.tumblr.com/post/638806142933467136/the-plight-was-not-what-i-was-getting-at-it-was

#atla #lok #atlok #atla meta #pacifism #martin luther king #civil rights era #history #blm #mlk #mlkday2021

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mayfriend-archive · 3 years

Note

Totally understand if you're not up for it and fully recognize the ronald mcdonald dom/sub anon vibes which is an AMAZING post btw but like...now i'm curious, what the hell did Lord of the Flies anon DO that got him blocked for the discourse? like...i just can't wrap my head around high school lit being...uh...that inflammatory i guess?

Okay so, I'll start by saying I've had a new anon from apparently the same anon saying they are NOT the person I blocked, just a rando making the same points, but I'll answer your question anyway just to set out why this person in particular got blocked, out of the several thousand who reblogged/commented on that very successful addition to the LoTF post I made.

First off, I added the 'real life Lord of the Flies' story because I thought it was a good story. I had read about it only a couple days beforehand in Humankind and, after reading out the entire chapter to my parents who weren't very interested, I was excited that there was not only a post where it would be relevant to post, but that I wouldn't be hijacking it, as it was already rejecting the widespread interpretation taught in many schools, that humanity is inherently savage.

When making the addition, I a) did not think it would get more than a couple reblogs, because the post was already at 50k notes and I figured anyone that might be interested would already have seen it, and b) I did not know the very specific context that prompted William Golding to write the book; all I knew was that he had been a teacher at a public school (basically, the poshest schools in the country - think Eton, Harrow, very 'old money' places that pump out Conservative politicians by the bucket-load 🤢) who hated his job and the boys he taught (which, valid), and new information I'd been given in Humankind - that Golding had said to his wife one day, "Wouldn't it be a good idea to write a story about some boys on an island, showing how they would really behave?" - which had no mention of The Coral Island by R. M. Ballantyne, which I have since learned was the text that Golding loathed enough to write an entire novel in refutation of - and included what I considered a very telling letter from Golding to his publisher, in which Golding wrote of his belief that 'even if we start with a clean slate, our nature compels us to make a muck of it.' Another Golding quote that I believe portrays his belief in humanity's 'innate savagery' is that "man produces evil as a bee produces honey."

Obviously, the author of a book putting forward the case for humanity's inherent goodness was going to oppose Golding's hypothesis; Bregman not only noted Golding's literary accomplishments and beliefs, but his personal life.

When I began delving into the author's life, I learned what an unhappy individual he'd been. An alcoholic. Prone to depression. A man who, as a teacher, once divided his pupils into gangs and encouraged them to attack each other. "I have always understood the Nazis," Golding confessed, "because I am of that sort by nature." (Humankind by Rutger Bregman, p. 24-25)

I have bolded the part about him as a teacher, because it is incredibly relevant to the original post that I commented on, which begins with a comic of a teacher locking her class in to see them 'recreate' Lord of the Flies, something which the follow up comments before mine staunchly reject as both misunderstanding the point of the book, and the fact that it took the kids in Lord of the Flies a significant amount of time without adult supervision to go 'savage'. This misreading of the text is widespread enough that when Golding won the Nobel Prize for Lord of the Flies, the Swedish Nobel committee wrote that his book 'illuminate[s] the human condition in the world of today'. Whether or not they misread it is beyond my expertise - they do at least mention the factors of the outside world neglected by many when analysing the book, but still seem to believe it says something about human nature as a whole rather than just, to quote thedarkbutbeige 'British kids being rat bastards' - but Golding quite happily took his Nobel prize on this basis. Which, in fairness, I would too. It's a fucking Nobel prize.

It was with this knowledge, and this knowledge alone, that I stated in my now very, very widely read comment that Golding 'wrote the book to be a dick', in response to the tags of the person I reblogged from. As I said, I now know that Golding did not write the book (solely) because he hated the kids he taught, but as a response to The Coral Island and the general idea that clearly the British were inherently civilsed, whilst the people they colonised and enslaved were inherently savage. So. That's the background.

The anon - or rather, the person I thought was anon - was the sole exception out of dozens of replies, who instead of telling me about The Coral Island politely decided it was time to go ALL CAPS and regurgitate points already made by thespaceshipoftheseus, and implied that the only reason that the real life Tongan castaways didn't go all Lord of the Flies was because they weren't British. Not because they weren't surrounded by violence like the boys in Lord of the Flies, or there wasn't a World War ongoing, or that they weren't the upper, upper, upper crust of a class-obsessed society like Britain - but because they weren't British. A complete inversion of the concept that Golding was trying to get across - now, instead of all of humanity being equally prone to savagery in the right conditions, it was solely nationality that determined it. As in, the British were inherently savage, but nobody else was.

I, trying for humour, made the terrible mistake of replying to them.

I won't lie, I was absolutely blown away that this was real life. What I think they were trying to do was be that Cool Tumblr Person who, after somebody's been shitty on a post, goes to their blog and sees something Damning in their about/description. In an ideal world, I imagine I'd have gone nuts or done something Unforgiveable. In what I can only call the rant that followed, they stated several times that I needed to go back to high school to get some 'proper literary analysis' skills and that the story of the Tongan castaways was completely unrelated to the point at hand which. I mean, I disagree, considering that I made the addition, but I couldn't get my head around how commenting on a post that was already rejecting the thesis that the 'point' of Lord of the Flies was that humanity was inherently savage and was, in fact, about how kids - British or otherwise - learn how to function from the adults around them, and that traumatised, terrified children aren't going to create a mini-Utopia, and put forward a real life example of how without the key additions of an ongoing world war, a colonial Empire and the subsequent mindset of thinking you are 'inherently civilised' and therefore can't do anything wrong, actually, people just want to take care of each other.

A friend has since asked me why I even have 'england' in my description. To be honest, it's a timezone thing - I talk to a lot of people online who don't share my timezone, and it generally makes me feel like if I don't reply immediately because it's 3am, they have the tools to see that I'm not in their timezone and not just ignoring them. I did consider changing it to 'british' or 'uk' after it was... 'used against me', I guess, simply because I didn't want to deal with it, but you know what. No. Not gonna do that. I am from England, and I have never hid that fact. I have a tag called 'uk politics', during Eurovision I refer to the UK's act as 'us' (even if I really, really don't want to. Because James Newman slaughtered that song and it was downright embarrassing), I regularly post stuff in my personal tag about where I live (and mostly complain about this piece of shit government). If people really think my nationality makes every point I make null and void, then they don't have to follow me or interact with my posts; tumblr is big, and I am one medium-small blog very easily passed over.

I did reply to them, trying to explain the above, but their next response really just doubled down. Because I used the word British instead of English - foolishly because the posts above mine focused on Britishness, and also because although Golding was English and taught English kids, the pro-Imperialism author of The Coral Island, R. M. Bannatyne was actually Scottish so, ding ding ding, falls into the 'British' category - they then decided that I was somehow trying to pretend I wasn't English and made all the same points, before ending with this doozy:

At this point, I knew there was nothing to be gained from replying, because if we're whipping out conditions like they're pokemon cards then there's no actual conversation anymore, and I'm not going to start mudslinging like an identity politician. They made up their mind, and I figured there could be no harm in letting them think that they 'won' by blocking them instead of replying.

Until the ask. INNATE ENGLISH SAVAGERY did, I'll admit, make me think it was them, back again. I even thought up a really good response approximately 12 hours after I replied, I was that sure. Until the second message came in, and said they were just someone who came from the post and made the same point by chance. So the saga draws to a close... for now.

It may have been them, it may not have been - the anon feature makes it impossible to be sure, but as the second message I got said, we're in a heatwave. It's too hot to argue. And I've just written a goddamn essay about a book I dislike anyway.

My pasty English ass is going to go melt. If there's Disk Horse, do not tell me. I am Done™

#emily speaks #asks #anon #lord of the flies #this is long. this is so long. why is this so long #i literally got out humankind so i could quote directly. how is this my life

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lucywritesreid · 4 years

Text

With Heaven Above You - Part 4

Summary: The team take a closer look at Reid’s findings to see if they can figure out where he might have been taken. Y/N feels tremendous guilt for putting him in this position, but finding something peculiar gives them their first clue…

Tags: @spacedikut @101donuts @rexorangecouny @l0ve-0f-my-life @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks @awkwardnesshabitat @liaabsurd @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.9k

Notes: Thank you so much again! Can’t believe all the nice comments I’ve had so far. Makes my heart swell 😊

Between the team the photograph must’ve been analysed a few thousand times. Each member kept requesting to look at it, picking it up and studying it under various light sources across the BAU. You had only looked at it the once. That was enough. The truth was that they weren’t going to find what they were looking for from the photo. It was just you taking off your microphone after the press conference. So it was highly likely that the unsub had been there, watching. JJ was making multiple phone calls to try and find the details of everyone who had signed up to be there. The truth was more harrowing. You knew that a mere 30 seconds after that picture was taken, Spencer had come over and given you a hug. A moment that you believed at the time to be private. But he had seen it. He had seen your Spencer. And he had taken him.

It was well into the night before any of you started to leave. Everyone had been running around, making phone calls, printing things off, going through case files. But you had just been sat at Spencer’s desk, curled up in his chair. You desperately were trying to think about what you could do. It was Emily who startled you out of your dream state.

“Hey, y/n, come crash with me tonight, okay? You need to try and get some sleep.”

You wanted to protest but it was no use. “Yeah, sure thing Em. Can we stop over at mine and grab a couple of things first?”

She looked a little hesitant at first. “Um, sure. But only quickly.”

From that moment on you acted without thought. It was as if a robot had taken over your body, moving your legs, walking you to the car. You couldn’t think about anything as you did it.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get your things for you?” Emily’s voice made you jump. You hadn’t registered the entire car ride, and suddenly you were outside your apartment.

“No, but maybe come with me?” She nodded at the suggestion. You knew as soon as you walked in you were going to be wrapped up in all things him, and you weren’t sure if you could handle all the emotion.

Emily took your key from you and unlocked the door. She switched on the hall light and stepped into the apartment first, cautiously. You realised this wasn’t the first time Emily had walked into a home feeling unsettled, apprehensive. She knew just what it was like to come home and know that it wasn’t the way you left it. “I’m going to grab some of Reid’s case files to have a look at. You get what you need, take your time.”

“Thank you, Emily,” you tried to smile but your face couldn’t do it. You were so lucky to have such a wonderful friend, and one day you’d be able to show her just how much it meant to you. But not today.

You walked around uncertain, not sure what to look for. The sensible part of you was saying go pack a bag, get your things, and leave. You lingered in the living room for a few minutes, taking in all the things that reminded you of him. You saw the answering machine was flashing red. Was it really a good idea to check the message? It was probably something mundane, a cold caller. But there was a small possibility that it was him. Maybe an explanation? Your finger edged tentatively over the button. It took a few seconds before you pressed down and waited to hear what was coming next.

You’ve reached the home of Agent Y/F/N and Dr Spencer Reid, an all too familiar voice said, we can’t come to the phone right now because we’re probably fighting crime or playing chess. Leave a message after the beep!

What followed next was not what you expected. It was an almost silent message, but you could just about make out someone breathing. Some long, drawn out breathing. It lasted for about ten seconds and then the message cut out. Before you could call out a voice made you jump.

“When was that left?” Emily asked, suddenly behind you.

You squinted at the display on the machine. “This afternoon.”

“I’m going to forward this over to Garcia and see what she can get from it, you go and get the rest of your things.”

You nodded and walked into the bathroom. It was ridiculous to say that you could recognise Spencer’s breathing, but you were certain that wasn’t him on the tape. Which made it all the more unsettling as to who it actually was. Feeling tightness in your chest, you rushed over to the sink and turned on the cool water. You cupped your hands under the stream and splashed your face a few times, until the tight feeling went away. Get it together, y/n. You must do this. You need to focus.

After a few deep breaths you turned off the tap. You reached over to grab a towel from the radiator to dry your face when you saw a book lying on the bathroom floor. You crouched down to pick it up and admired it in your hands. The pages were all frayed and torn. It had been laid next to the radiator to dry after a night a few weeks ago.

“Hey! Y/N be careful, this is a first edition. I can’t take it back to the library covered in soap!”

“Listen Reid, you’re the one who decided to read during bath night. I can’t be liable for the damage that incurs.”

“Okay, fair point. But I thought you liked it when I read to you in Latin while you washed your hair? Weren’t you the one that said you wanted to learn a new language?”

“Yes Spence, a new language. A usable one. One that people still speak!”

“Statistically there are millions of people who can still read Latin. While it appears to be a dead language there is actually a large percentage of scholars and academics who use Latin in a variety of contexts… You always said you were interested in philosophy…”

“Yeah yeah, save me the lecture Dr Reid. You have until the bubbles run out to keep reading or else this book is going straight in the water…”

You were jolted out of your daydream by a knock on the door. “Y/N?” A concerned voice spoke up. “Are you okay in there?”

You quickly set the book back down and hurriedly grabbed your toothbrush and a hair tie. “Yeah Em, I’m coming now.” You made your way into the bedroom and grabbed a duffle bag. There was no thought to what you were packing, just random items that hopefully would make an outfit for the next day. You glanced over at Spencer’s pillow, his perfectly folded pyjamas, and decided to pack those as well.

It was truly painful to leave, but you knew it was for the best. By the time you made it to Emily’s it felt like it was almost morning. She poured you a large glass of wine and excused herself to go to bed, promising first that if you needed anything during the night to give her a call. You thanked her again and settled down on her sofa, wearing the buttoned-up pyjamas you’d taken from Spencer’s pillow. The glass of wine went down far too quickly, and you refilled it twice. Sleep was an impossibility at this point. You could already see morning light peaking through the gap in the curtains. That meant it wasn’t too long before you could go back to work and try and figure out what was next.

The truth was you already knew what you had to do. You were going to make another press conference, permission granted or not, and try and make yourself as appealing as possible. You were going to try and convince the career killer that the story would be far better if he took you as well as Reid. Imagine the headlines – two dead FBI agents, who were also in love! Caught in the crosshairs of the career killer! The best and most famous serial killer in the whole world! The papers would go wild for it. You knew deep down that the killer would, too. But it wasn’t going to play out that way. You were going to trade yourself for Spencer. Convince the killer it was you he really wanted. Tell him you’d give him whatever he wanted, help him put on a show. You’d let him kill you live on TV. You knew that you would do anything to get Spencer back.

You rehearsed your little inner monologue a few times. When you felt like you’d perfected it, you decided to try and think about something else for a few minutes. You remembered you’d taken the crossword puzzle book from Spencer’s desk. That would make a good distraction if he hadn’t finished them all already. You fumbled through the contents of your bag until you found it, along with a mechanical pencil. One of the corners had been turned over so you flicked the book open to that page.

Spencer had already started the crossword but hadn’t completed it. That confused you a little. It was very unlike him to leave a puzzle unfinished. You started to scan your eyes over the clues he had already filled in.

A six letter word for a season of the year synonymous with fall. Autumn. Easy. You glanced over to where Spencer had filled in the word. A-U-T-U-N-N. How had he managed to make that mistake? In all the years you knew him you hadn’t once seen a spelling error. You shrugged.

Next clue: Lion’s cry, four letters. Roar. Same again, you looked at where he’d filled it in. R-O-O-R. This couldn’t be a coincidence. You circled the incorrect letter, and the ‘n’ in autumn, and went back to the next clue.

A seven letter word for a pilot. Aviator. Spencer had filled in A-V-I-A-T-U-R. You circled the U.

Clearly reasoned, seven letters. Logical. Same spelling mistakes. L-O-J-I-C-A-L. That added a J.

Card game, five letters. Poker. P-O-K-A-R. A.

Woollen items, eight letters. Knitwear. K-N-T-T-W-E-A-R. T.

Organ of sight, 3 letters. Eye. E-Y-I. You circled and noted the I.

Desire to travel, ten letters. You had to look across at what Spencer had already written for this one. Wanderlust. But he’d spelt it W-A-N-D-E-L-R-U-S-T. Confused, you circled and noted the l and the R as they were both wrong.

He had only filled in one more clue. Calm-natured. Placid. But instead of a C, he’d written S. That left you with ten letters. You scrawled them down at the bottom of the page. N, O, U, J, A, T, I, L, R, S

N O U J A T I L R S.

What on Earth did that mean? You looked at it a few times through slightly blurry wine eyes. Why had he done this? You couldn’t quite understand what was going on. But there was something in you, a hunch, that he’d left this for you on purpose. Who else would piffle through his desk and take out a crossword book? There had to be some meaning to it. After exhausting yourself with possibilities, the tiredness took over, and you eventually fell asleep. You dreamt of those ten letters swirling around your head.

End of part 4.

#dr reid #dr spencer reid #dr reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x reader #spencer x y/n

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didsomeonesaydaddydraco · 4 years

Text

Loving the enemy | d.m

Request: nope

Word count: 2255

Warning: betray, bit of angst, heavy heartbreak

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Note: I wanted this to be a one shot, but now I’m thinking about turning this into a mini series. Let me know what you think and if you want a Part 2 (or more). Love you all. xx

All my life, I was told to choose the right path. To do everything in my power to stay loyal to myself. No matter what others say, rather be alone than with the wrong crowd. I was walking around the Castle, always making sure the corridor was empty when I took a turn from one to another. It was in the air. Everyone knew it was just a matter of time for Voldemort and his army to come and destroy everything what was so kind to our heart. Hogwarts. The place which had been my home for seven years. I grew up in here. Found lifelong friends here. I fell in love and got my heart broken for the first time in my life. I learnt to be a great witch here. The thought that I might lose everyone and everything scared me to death.

- Hey – cold, ring covered fingers grabbed my hand from behind, and I let out a small squeak. I turned around with my wand already in my other hand, ready to throw a defensive spell at whoever tried to attack me – Easy, it’s just me.

- Draco – a sigh left my lift as a sign of relief – You shouldn’t go around grabbing people like that when you know very well, Voldemort can come any minute now – I scolded my boyfriend softly, and put my head on his chest. I could hear his heart pounding loudly against his ribs. He kissed the top of my head lovingly.

- Sorry – he whispered and held me closer to his body – I wanted to make sure you were okay, because I didn’t see you at dinner tonight. You still haven’t got your appetite back? Have you eaten today?

- Calm down – I laughed – I wasn’t hungry, but yeah, I had eaten a bit today.

- You need to eat, baby – he pressed his lips into a thin line. Worry was written all over his perfect face. The last few weeks were too stressful with schoolwork, and there was death hanging above as, ready to ruin everything we cherished in our lives, I couldn’t force myself to eat. Every single time I joined my friends for lunch or dinner, all I could do was stare at my food. I wanted to be brave and I wanted to stay strong, but after all, we were still just kids at the edge of adulthood. We were supposed to get in trouble because of our pranks. We were supposed to go on dates at the Three Broomsticks. We were supposed to make the water in our cups turn into Butterbeer or Fire Whiskey and get drunk in the Common Rooms after the Prefects finished their night routines. We were supposed to fall in love and sneak out in the middle of the night to be with our boyfriend or girlfriend. But instead of making memories and having the time of of our lives, we spent our free hours with perfecting our duelling skills, learning defensive spells and training, so when the time comes, we are prepared to fight, or at least stay alive.

- What are you thinking about? – Draco asked. I didn’t notice when he laced his fingers together with mine and led me to his dorm room. When I was snapped out of my thoughts, I saw him sitting on his bed, looking at me with an unknown emotion on his face.

I looked at him for too long. I wanted him to be safe. I wanted to protect him. I was terrified of losing him in the battle. I was terrified because he never said anything about the upcoming tragic event. Every time I brought it up, he suddenly had a very important thing he just couldn’t miss leaving me hanging, or simply changed the subject. Draco was never the man of words or emotions. He preferred actions over everything. In our love life, school work or when he wanted to keep his reputation. But how could someone tell their fears with actions? He had never cried. Not in front of me. He had never trembled, nor had troubles falling asleep. And yet, when I looked at him, I could see his skin being even paler than his usual tone, and the circles under his eyes were way too dark for my liking.

- How can you not be afraid? – I asked him simply. My guts warning me something might be off, and my arms suddenly wrapped themselves around my body as if they wanted to protect my from something – Why can’t we have a conversation about this?

Draco’s eyes darkened and he walked to his window. He didn’t give me an answer, just stared at my reflection on the glass. I stared back. Analysing every single feature of his face, I saw how his beautiful grey eyes lost their sparkle and were filled with sorrow. I saw his eyebrows wrinkled as he thought about something. His lips were pressed into a thin line again. And finally, after all this time, I could see real emotions running through his face after each other. Worry. Pain. Fear. Love. Disappointment. Hopelessness. My heart broke at the sight of him.

- Draco – I said his name softly – What’s going on?

He turned around but didn’t come any closer to me. He was playing with his shirt’s sleeve and chewing on his bottom lip. A habit of him when he was nervous. I knew something was odd about him. Slowly, but everything came together in my mind. Draco refused to wear anything, but long sleeved shirts. He started to wear those to bed as well, even though he hated to have a shirt on for sleeping. Every time we made love, we had to turn off the lights, and he casted a spell which turned the whole room completely dark. I ignored the voice in my head, which was basically screaming at me to do not go any closer, crossing a line.

- Baby – I breathed and with a sudden movement, I pulled up his sleeve, revealing the mark on his forearm. There it was. Black ink standing out on his almost milk white skin. The Dark Mark dancing on his arm, like it was celebrating the fact the Voldemort had striked again. Gaining another soldier for his army, destroying an innocent soul. I felt empty. I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t think straight. I was terrified for him. He was just a boy. I didn’t understand anything. Was it against his own will? Did he want to join the Death Eaters? I felt betrayed. I refused to believe that he would do such a thing on his own will. Could he really throw away everything? Could he really risk our lives?

- Y/N – Draco tried to grab my hand but I stepped away from him – Please, hear me out…

- Why didn’t you tell me? – I asked him – Did you want to keep it as a secret? Did you really think I would never find out?

- No, of course not – he shook his head and took a step closer to me, but my cold stare stopped him from taking any more – I wanted to tell you, but didn’t know how. I was waiting for the right moment, I guess.

- The right moment? – I raised my voice a bit, but I had to remind myself not to cause a scene because our classmates were outside in the Common Room – And what would have been the right moment, Draco? During the battle when I see you fighting on Voldemort’s side? – I hissed the last couple of words – Please, tell me you won’t…

Draco couldn’t look me in the eye. His icy blue eyes were looking everywhere in the room, but me. I waited. I waited for him to tell me he would never go against his School. The place which was his getaway from his poor excuse of a father. It was his safe place. It was OUR safe place.

- Baby girl – his voice broke a little and I knew. I knew that his silence what in fact the answer for my question. To the one that I had asked, and to those which remained buried in me. I stood there, completely devastated. Trying to find the boy who I had fallen in love with. The boy, who would have tried to do everything in his power to protect those who he loved. I was questioning myself. His loyalty. Every single word coming out of his mouth. I felt broken. But no matter how heartbroken I was in that very moment, all I could think about was one thing. How was I supposed to protect him from everything that was waiting for us?

- Y/N – my lips rolled off of his tongue as a silent prayer – Love, please…

- You’re weak – a bitter laugh fell out of my mouth. I was mad. Mad at him for not standing up for himself. Mad at him, for lying to me for weeks. Mad at him, for putting himself in such a dangerous situation. And I was mad at my own self, because even though I wanted to hex him right there and then, I still loved him with every piece of my heart – It all begins and ends in your mind, Draco. What you give power to and has power over you, if you allow it. And you did. You let Voldemort to have that damn power over you.

- I had no choice. Believe me, if I had, I would have choose differently and… - his voice was desperate, but so I was. I was trying to pick up the pieces of my broken heart. All those pieces were still beating for him and hoping that this whole thing was just one terrible dream and I’ll soon wake up in his arms. But deep down I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t even know if that time will come one day, when I can wake up from a nightmare free dream, wrapped in his loving and protecting arms, listening to his light snoring, and the beating of his heart. Feeling him hugging me tighter when he was waking up, or dreaming. Smiling into our morning kiss, and admiring his beautiful face. Getting lost in his dreamy blue eyes, while we’re talking about our future together. Where we want to travel. Where we want to live…Live, how funny. Like we had any chance of that.

- Bullshit – I snorted – You are free to choose, but you are not free from the consequences of your choice.

I knew it must have been hard for him. Everyone in his family was a Death Eater, but so were my ascendants. I chose. And I chose the right path as I was taught when I was little. I was in the impossible situation. My mind and my heart were in a huge war, making it extreme hard to choose, but I had to. One of us in this relationship had to be on the right path, and make the final decision.

- What do you mean? – his eyes were filled with tears, and that was the moment I realised, I had been crying this whole time. Everything was too overwhelming. My head was spinning from the million thoughts chasing each other, and my heart was pounding way too rapidly, I was scared it might explode in any seconds. My whole body was shaking from fear and my fist was numb from the too tight grip – Y/N?

- What I mean is – I took a deep breath, knowing very well that I was about to make a decision that will affect both of us in a bad way – I have made my decision a long time ago. I know who my ascendants are, but I’m not one of them. I’m Y/F/N, and I can choose freely. And I did. I love you, Draco. Salazar is my witness that I really do. I love you so much it literally hurts me, but I have to break my own heart now. This is a serious situation, and you know it too…

- So you choose Potter over me? – venom filled his words and his eyes darkened even more. He was in pain. I broke him. But I had too.

- No, Draco – I shook my head at him – I choose my friends who became family to me over the years. I choose Hogwarts, which was my home away from home. I love you, Draco, but they were here for me way before you made up your mind and decided you wanted me.

- Baby – he choked out from his sobs – I love you. I love you so much, please…Please do not leave me. I need you – he fell on his knees – I’ll go crazy without you… - I was sobbing with him. My whole body was aching and I didn’t know if I could make it out alive – Why?

- Because I’ll always protect my family, Draco – my voice was only a whisper. And with that, I left his room.

I left his room, leaving Draco screaming in his hands, in the middle of his room. I was running down the empty halls of Hogwarts. I should have admire its beauty while I had the chance, but my tears blurred my vision. I tore my heart out from my chest and left it on the bedroom floor. Completely shattered. Shattered by me. I knew I couldn’t have protect him out there. Just like him, I had no choice…

#draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco x you #draco x slytherin!reader #voldemort #wizarding war #harry potter

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beevean · 4 years

Text

SEGA and the eternal issue of “Sonic’s girlfriend”

[Translator’s note: here is the original article written by @latin-dr-robotnik, originally written on the 18th of May 2020]

Today we’re going to talk about one of the aspects SEGA is more secretive about: Sonic’s relationships.

[Translator’s note: this article was written to celebrate Seaside Hill Paradise’s 200th entry. If you’re fluent in Spanish, I highly recommend you to check it out! And if you aren’t, go follow Latin’s Tumblr blog if you haven’t already and you’re into Sonamy, analyses, gushing about music and shitposts.]

This article concludes my Sonamy trilogy, and I recommend you to read the previous two articles: “SEGA and the eternal issue of the Sonamy dynamic” and “’I love you’ – forbidden words in Sonic”. This means this is a shipping article – if you’re not interested into another essay about the love life of a blue hedgehog, I can redirect you to other articles such as “Sonic and speed: are we misunderstanding them?” and “What went wrong with Classic Sonic’s music in Sonic Forces?”.

Everybody else, welcome to today’s article!

It should be noted that this article focuses more on the semi-official and strictly official aspects, since there is really not much to say about the fandom. Nowadays the fandom has a relatively peaceful coexistence, creating art, fanfics and more, for all kind of ships; sometimes there’s an occasional fight between ships or a ship that clearly is not appropriate… but besides that, everything seems relatively calm, at least in my experience and compared to other fandoms.

Too cool for relationships...

Few things are as mentioned and yet silenced by the official SEGA media as the fateful words “girlfriend” and “Sonic” put together. In official terms, Sonic has always been this young, cool hedgehog, with a pure love for nature and never too worried about life, but with a moral code that makes him fight against injustices. During his first years, Sonic was almost impatient and a little emotionally distant, although as it was the ‘90s and things were not so clear for the young SEGA star, different interpretations would take the character through different paths - some more radical than others. As the years went by, and going through many redesigns, certain aspects of his personality would be perfected, exaggerated, or even flanderized. His position on relationships, on the other hand, would remain relatively constant over the decades, with a few particular exceptions.

The this is that Sonic, in the words of his own creator Naoto Ohshima, has always been considered “a young man with a child's heart”, which has helped to substantiate and understand why the character would remain relatively distant from his feelings, and much closer to his own interests associated with the life of adventure.

... or is he?

Despite everything I just said, they tried in many occasions, if not succeeded, to give Sonic a girlfriend, with various results.

As carefree as Sonic is, and as much as SEGA tried to clarify this point over and over again, the people behind his character have always tried to introduce one or more relationships into his life. Even Naoto Ohshima himself has made his own suggestion as to who might be a hypothetical partner for his character. The different interpretations I’ve mentioned have tweaked Sonic’s character to make it more apt to certain types of dynamics, and the cultural gap between the East and the West (which I analyzed a few years ago with the first article of this “trilogy”) also has a considerable impact on the type of relationships that would be established for Sonic from very early in his history until today.

Author’s note: the concept of “Sonic + human woman” of 1990 wasn’t completely forgotten, no no, it was brought back 16 years later, in… well… the worst way possible.

Let’s see an example. Going back to his very origins, in his pre-Sonic 1 sketches Sonic was often depicted with a stereotypical damsel in distress, Madonna, his own “Princess Peach” that ended up being scrapped for many reasons, including the similarities with Super Mario. As the years have gone by, this concept has not disappeared, but rather the writers and directors of the series have taken it down different paths over time. While Madonna was too cliché, other candidates for the role of “Sonic’s girlfriend” would quickly appear to try different dynamics, directly or indirectly endorsed by SEGA.

Sally Acorn

For many years, Princess Sally was for Western fans the first person who came to mind when they thought of “Sonic’s girlfriend”. Since 1993, and for 2 more decades, her relationship with Sonic has gone in many directions, but fundamentally the most amazing thing about this whole situation was that she was Sonic’s official girlfriend (at least in the Archie Comics canon). It was also one of the many headaches for SEGA in the last decade.

Originally a fellow fighter against the macabre Robotnik from the 1993 animated series Sonic The Hedgehog, Sonic and Sally’s relationship was always marked by their opposite personalities; while Sally tends to plan ahead and is much more focused on the seriousness of the task, Sonic was the type to destroy robots first and think later. “Opposites attract,” they say, and by the (premature, I might add) end of that series both were already more than friends. They had already kissed a couple of times.

At the most critical moment in their relationship, Sonic, after a year of being missing in space and presumed dead by everyone, returns to Mobius only to end up back in potential danger, decides to ignore the wishes and warnings of Sally, who’s clearly emotionally traumatized and stressed by both the general situation and the responsibilities she had to carry out for her kingdom in the absence of her parents. The result of this explosive cocktail was one of the most infamous scenes in all of Archie Sonic, "the Slap", where Sally finally reacts violently to Sonic's selfish statements. The hedgehog's response? Well, a long exposure to the screams about her experience - also traumatic - up to that point. In the end, both end up screaming and crying in front of virtually everyone.

What followed in the next decades was an expansion of that original SatAM canon in the Archie Comics, in which its various writers introduced varying degrees of drama and increasing conflict to demonstrate the strong bond between them, destabilizing or even stabilizing it again, multiple times. They would be together for some time, then they would be apart, eventually rekindling the flame of love passionately, until a final sacrifice on their part and the eventual resetting of the entire Archie Sonic canon.

In their last years, after the Super Genesis Wave, Sonic and Sally’s relationship went back to being platonic. a good friendship with the advantages and disadvantages of their personalities - Sally’s leadership and Sonic’s extreme confidence - while the focus was put on the flourishing relationship between Sally and her best friend (and old computer!) Nicole.

Regardless of the way their relationship ended, it's undeniable that Sally has left a huge mark. Being a product of the West, her existence was never really accepted by the Sonic’s Japanese creators, but because the bulk of the fandom is here in the West, Sally's presence has been strongly associated with Sonic, the Freedom Fighters, the comics... and also the ship wars between her and the character we’re going to talk about next. Her very existence was a living contradiction to the Japanese central canon, an official girlfriend who broke all the ideas that existed for Sonic in terms of his conception of relationships and lead him through unique paths. Whether for better or worse, Sally broke the mold.

Eimi. Rosy. Amy Rose.

On the opposite side of the spectrum there’s Amy, a character that was originally conceived as the Minnie to Sonic’s Mickey, but with her own dynamic.

Despite Amy’s existence being strongly tied to Sonic’s, once again Sonic Team tried to avoid the classic cliché (in this case to copy Mickey and Minnie), opting then to establish Amy as the one interested in a relationship, while Sonic runs away from this idea. For this dynamic to keep working, Sonic’s feelings have to be kept hidden, with excuses like his “shyness”, which leads to ambiguity, or because, as said before, of his “child’s heart”.

The most interesting thing is that Amy kept her canonical status of “self-proclaimed girlfriend” since 1993, which makes her “official” and “not official” at the same time, but there are some traces left from the Sonic manga of 1992 (which in turn influenced Amy’s original design), where a prototype version of Amy (or, as it was spelled there, Emi/Eimi) played the role of Sonic’s girlfriend (or Nicki’s, to be more precise). With this detail in mind, Amy can be considered, at least in the East, the very first “Sonic’s girlfriend”, even before Sally – but her situation is much more complex.

Sonic Mega Drive (top) and Sonic Boom (bottom), representing some differences in different Sonic continuities.

In any case, the manga would be the first and only time Amy was officially considered “Sonic’s girlfriend”, because in the following decades and in several continuities the core of their dynamic shifted to Amy chasing Sonic. Both would get closer or further away depending on each case (in Fleetway, for example, Amy ends up marrying another character, while in Archie Sonic there would be only a few instances of potential interest, quickly overshadowed by convenience or other things directly or indirectly related to Sally), but generally no continuity would establish an official relationship. In some cases, such as Japan, it wouldn’t even be necessary to clarify the state of the relationship, since their cultures accept more easily the dynamic that Sonic Team proposed as an “official relationship”. Just looking at the artwork highlighted on Sonic Channel (run by SEGA of Japan) shows how much more accepted the relationship is, even though Sonic Team’s official artwork still avoids any kind of public confirmation. (Author’s note: I’ve written more about Amy according to the East and the West in the first article of this trilogy)

Unlike Sally, there is no “opposites attract” situation between Amy and Sonic, and, at first, there is no prior friendship from which a potential relationship could flourish. We witnessed their dynamics from the first moment they met, and it would not be until years later that there would be a minimal basis for interaction from which various official continuities would bring both characters closer together.

Technically Amy already knew that her destiny was tied to Sonic and the events of Sonic CD on Little Planet, thanks to her tarot cards (an element that has disappeared since then), but for Sonic it was just another day of adventure, and although we’ve seen how Amy's feelings have progressed, mostly in Adventure 1 and 2, Sonic has never reflected on his personal feelings; it’s an aspect of the hedgehog that to this day remains a mystery to the audiences.

Also unlike Sally, Amy has appeared in multiple continuities of all kinds and because of that her relationship with Sonic has been affected in various ways. The main videogames canon has remained ambiguous and unchanged for 25 years: Amy would stay close to Sonic and offer some good moments to reflect on her feelings about him (some of which I mentioned in my post about Sonic Unleashed and Amy’s emotional support), while Sonic would remain distant, uncomfortable, shy, and, more recently, potentially affected by her apparent loss.

Sonic X is the first official attempt (by Sonic Team no less) to offer an expanded view of our characters. There’s a lot of discussion about how Sonic is slowly opening up to Amy’s advances, and these developments follow a line that we discussed in previous articles of this trilogy, and how, during the 2000s, the Japanese writers of the series kept slowly deepening the interactions between the two, reaching very important symbolic moments like Sonic X Ep. 9, 52 and 76, among several others. I am purposely leaving out specific details to direct your attention to this fantastic thread by Yvanix Rose that highlights some key details about how this continuity worked the Sonic-Amy dynamic. [Translator’s note: the thread is in Spanish]

Sonic X, episode 76.

Another essential continuity for the development of this dynamic was Sonic Boom, since, despite having been a separate continuity with its own interpretation of the characters, its existence managed to influence the main canon in some way in the years that followed its original release in 2014.

Sonic Boom made two important changes in the dynamic: Amy did no longer externalize her feelings with the same frequency or intensity (speeding up a process that already started in the main canon in 2008), and Sonic was noticeably more nervous and insecure of his feelings for her, even being jealous in several occasions. These changes got the dynamic closer to the “friends who have secret feelings to each other but they’re too shy to admit it” trope, and in the second season it could even be said that there are signals of the “secretly dating” trope. Nothing was officially confirmed yet, but the changes to the dynamic offered a fresh perspective to work from: winks and inferences about a relationship that was not talked about but seemed to happen behind the scenes.

Sonic Boom S1E16.

Sonic Boom’s approach also opened the door to working a little more on the characters’ new personalities. Taking a little inspiration from the original foundations of Sally and Sonic’s relationship, Boom now presented situations where Sonic and Amy’s perspectives actively clashed with each other, leading to discussions and moments that showed a little more of the mundane details of the friendship they had, rather than appealing to more classic behaviors of the main canon, like Sonic leaving the scene in a hurry. Considering the way things turned out the last time we saw this kind of dynamic on screen, it was pretty safe to assume that their new opposites were now attracted; the implied secret dating and so on only helped to give it more sustenance - which the fandom would eventually take to the extreme.

And lastly there’s IDW Sonic, the comic series that replaced Archie Sonic after its cancellation in 2017, and the most recent arc that offers an interesting perspective. Starting its continuity from the end of the events of Sonic Forces (which at the same time took on certain characteristics from the post-Boom era, particularly as far as Amy is concerned), IDW Sonic didn’t waste any time in presenting the way in which it would carry out its dynamic between Sonic and Amy.

Amy makes her feelings for Sonic very clear, and he is surprised but unable to match them. However, Sonic doesn’t want to outright reject her, and suggests that she come with him; she refuses, claiming that she has duties to the Resistance, setting the tone for the rest of the series. (IDW Sonic #2)

“Sonic’s girlfriend” today

As I mentioned earlier, after the reboot Sally was no longer considered Sonic’s girlfriend, and her disappearance after the cancellation of Archie Sonic in general is a sign that we may not see her ever again, even as a friend. As of today, in 2020, only Amy has been left in her “unofficial, but…” state, with various minor events taking place both in the main canon and in IDW Sonic:

In 2018 the official SEGA shop wrote a description for a piece of Amy Rose merchandise that said “celebrate 25 years of Sonic’s girlfriend”; the mistake wasn’t immediately corrected, despite the fandom pointing it out immediately.

The video game canon has remained dormant, with Team Sonic Racing in 2019 featuring more of a regular friendship between Sonic and Amy, sharing rivalries and quiet moments alike.

On the other hand, since IDW Sonic and Sonic Boom laid their foundations, we've begun to see a certain shift in the way the two characters are presented. While we’ve talked about IDW Sonic already, Sonic’s social medias have done multiple “Twitter Takeovers” where Sonic characters answer questions from fans, and Sonic has always answered more like his version of Boom to the inevitable question about Amy and his “feelings”.

Recent official animations like Sonic Mania Adventures and Team Sonic Racing Overdrive have shown Amy flirting with Sonic in a more casual way.

The current dynamic seems to be pointing towards “Sonic’s hidden feelings”, and I think we are at a perfect point to change the approach. SEGA in general seems more open to the idea of bringing these characters closer, probably as a marketing strategy, but without yet separating themselves from the central ideas that defined the dynamic for the last two and a half decades.

Conclusion

The idea of “Sonic’s girlfriend” has been one of the most experimental and controversial in the almost three decades that this series has been around for. SEGA has opened the door to all kinds of ambiguities, developments and interpretations, all with their pros and cons, instead of settling on a definitive position. As iconic as these characters, conceived as Sonic’s “romantic interests”, have become, they have also had their share of criticism and controversy, especially in the fandom.

The presence of Amy as the only “official but self-proclaimed girlfriend” today says a lot about the control SEGA (specifically SEGA of Japan) regained over the characters, after decades of interpretations that offered different alternatives with various degrees of success. At her best, Sally represented an ideal relationship with Sonic, much more complete and profound than the back-and-forth game between Amy and Sonic. But at her worst, this same relationship represented everything wrong that could happen by associating Sonic with the emotional spiderweb of a romantic relationship. SEGA hardening its control over the characters seems to have put an end of this type of situation where Sonic ends up being involved in a romantic telenovela, but at the same time it has revitalized the flirting game and the implicit associations that give fuel to the fandom fire.

From my humble interpretation, I think we’ve reached a point where Sonic and Amy have shared enough stories and moments to solidify the core aspects of their personalities and their friendship, allowing them to take the next step, which is to play around with the idea of “something else”. 25 years ago it was hard to see how these two characters could work together beyond “it’s SEGA’s word”; today there’s enough of a story to find a rhythm and chemistry for them, and the series of situations they've put themselves in (e.g. IDW Sonic’s plot arcs) are increasingly helping this case. The topic of “Sonic's girlfriend” may be a controversial one for SEGA and the fandom in general, but the doors have slowly been opened for this debate to develop and be investigated with interesting results, and I think that, in this new decade of 2020, there’s a unique potential to explore this kind of discussion, without sacrificing in any way the central principles of Sonic as a character. Thank you for joining me in these 200 entries, and hopefully we’ll see each other for many more.

#sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #sonamy #translation #analysis #long post #happy birthday latin!#this one was so hard #i had to cut a lot of shp-related parts sadly #but this whole project was very fun and enlightening

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years

Text

The Evil Queen x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Friends in the public eye and lovers on our own

Notes:

I love herrrr

Plot: You are totally, absolutely in love with Queen Grimhilde. It’s of course, difficult to be in a same-sex relationship in the 1500’s, but she loves you too and makes it work.

Warnings: Unadulterated fluff. Hopefully feel good-ness. Some sexual references.

~~~

“Hey Hilde, I’m going on my walk now.” I decide, getting up from her thrown and look around for her as I stretch out my arms and my back. We have been sitting in this room all morning, the most strenuous thing I’ve done today is when my lady helped me get on my corset- and don’t me wrong, that’s always a struggle but only because I have a strong, emotional aversion to the thing; Not because it was legitimate physical exercise.

“Have a good walk.” Is the only response I get, and while its lacking in emotion other than focus or… really, any interest at all in what I told her because she’s busy, it does indicate the direction she’s in and that’s good enough for me. I slip around some book towers, manuscript piles and the trash plate to find her at her finance desk -she has different desks, for different responsibilities. It helps her stay more organised and in the right mind for different tasks, - leaned over her work as far as she dares without looking in any way un-eloquent. So, not very far. But if you’ve watched her work as many times as I have, you can tell the difference between this level of bent and her usual straightness, as if she had a spine-length candlestick tied to the chair and her neck. My heart does a little lunge, realising she’s stressed.

“What are you working on?” I ask, quietly. Pulling up a stool beside her and sitting down on it, my skirts unfolding all around it as I crane my neck to peer at the paper under her quill.

“Writing a letter of apology to Lord Marcus.”

“You did something to him?” She must notice the lacing of utter horror in my voice because she makes a gentle, guttural sound from the back of his throat and glances up for a short moment to reassure me that this was not her fault. Or at least not because of her evil tendencies.

“No. But I did miss out on sending him a letter reupping our deal for his grain on the 15th of the month like I always do. I doubt that he’ll notice; I have my suspicion that he’s accepting offers for his grain from the Southern Isles also, anyway.” I don’t know how she writes and talks at the same time, but her focus is my gain, so I won’t waste too much time thinking about it.

Slowly, as I watch her, my grin widens into a smile. “It’s about your sense of dignity, then.” I crane my neck to look at what she’s writing, but get lost in the beautiful, perfect swirls of her handwriting. I’ve seen her scribbles when she isn’t writing for other people eyes, and it looks like chicken scrawl, but when she’s writing a letter she’s so carful and I doubt that anyone else in the world could make 26 different letters in an innumerable amount of different sequences look so beautiful.

Hilde rolls her eyes and straightens up again as she finishes writing the letter. “Precisely.” She prides herself on her sense of dignity, even though its not as morally coded as others can be, and that’s one of the things I love about her. She has a set of rules that she feels all the way to her core, and she never breaks them. Taking a momentary break from her work, she sets her hands in her lap and turns her head to analyse me. “Weren’t you going on a walk?”

“Well-Uh,” Not letting her catch me off guard for long because I know she enjoys it too much, I flash her another grin. “Being in this spot next to you, my love, has freshly become a far preferable use of my existence.” I say the ‘my love’ part quietly enough that I avoid backlash from her- if the any guard or servant heard, who knows what might happen. She’s the queen, yes, and she has no qualms with killing a person or two but word of the Queen sharing her bed with a lady would travel fast and there’s simply not enough poison in her arsenal to take down a whole kingdom.

“How inconsequential your existence must be, then.” Hilde says it lazily, through a tired deep breath as her shoulders rise delicately and shift back into place. She doesn’t expect a serious answer, but oh, she is going to get one.

“I assure you, I consider my actions of vast importance, love.” Rolling her eyes is her response to that, and I sigh- But perk up, at the sight of her lonely looking hand. “Can I hold your hand?”

“You may,” She sighs, like its such a hassle that I would ever want to just hold her hand. Not a hugely affectionate lady, our Queen. My queen.

Oh, she’s such a grinch. And a witch, obviously. And I’m a bit of a dreamer, but I did not dream the tiny flinch of a smile that passes across her lips momentarily when I bring one of her hands to my lap, holding it in both of mine.

I love this, when I get to touch her. It reminds me that we’re more then just good friends, like any other pair of girls. We belong to each other like my husband and I did, before he died. And in a way that her and the King, never did. It makes a genuine, gleeful smile come to my face- one I couldn’t have stopped if I wanted to. And why would anyone, ever, want to?

“Hey,”

“Yes?”

“Come walk with me,” I plead. She doesn’t open her mouth to refuse right away, she just looks at me in a perturbed way because she knows I have arguments and will always hear me out at least. “It’s a beautiful day,” I begin, fighting to ignore the way she tilts her tilt her head and increases her expression. “You’re beautiful,” When in doubt, always tell her that. Because 1, its absolutely true and no one knows it better then she does. And 2, it will always better her mood. An amused look gleams in her half-hooded eyes, and a slight grin takes her mouth. “And, uh, I love you?”

She laughs. “Those are your reasons?”

“Yes.” I squeak, knowing that they were pathetic.

“You would be beheaded in court.”

“Good thing I’m a law-abiding citizen then, unlike,” Here, I just widen my eyes and incline my head towards her. There are a number of things we can’t say out loud, or above a whisper but we’re far better off then plenty of other couples- and I count us as such.

Her eyes flash, on purpose and she use the pointer finger on the hand I’m not holding in my own, in my lap, noticeably close to an interesting area and pokes delicately on my throat, smirking dangerously as she traces down to the collar of my dress at the base of my neck. “Careful love, the way you’re going you’ll get your walk with me. But I assure you, you wont like it.”

I know very well what Hilde’s punishments are like for being cheeky, and I beg to differ. Grinning mischievously myself, I take her lack of closing up and going back to her work as a yes to my invitation and get up from my stool, guiding her to her feet as well. “Lets go!”

“Mm, I suppose business with Portugal can wait… “ Her voice is monotone, but her face reveals her amusement and happiness to leave work for a little bit.

“Absolutely!”

At the door before we leave the throne room, she puts a hand on the door to prevent me opening it and leans across the short space between us to press a lingering kiss to my lips. When she pulls over, a whine inadvertently escapes me and makes her smirk even wider then before, opening the door so we meet her guards on the other side.

“My friend and I are going on a walk; We’ll be fine on our own.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

#The Evil Queen x Reader #Fem Reader #The Evil Queen #The Evil Queen x Reader Oneshot #Queen Grimhilde

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jjba-arni-reblog · 4 years

Text

Cafe dates and small worries

[The 2nd work for an another winner of the raffle @another-leftover-noodle. This time, it is a nice and fluffy Jotakak work. It is now the longest work of mine. It was my first time writing for Jotakak]

Pairing: Jotaro/Kakyoin

Time: not specified but mostly likely university/school.

Words: 3.6K (jesus)

~~~

It wasn’t frequent that Jotaro Kujo felt nervous. He was usually calm and collected no matter the situation, always analysing everything before acting.

So why was he now aggressively fidgeting with his shirt? Having sweaty palms and a hard time standing in one place, instead pacing a little in his room.

Jotaro will be going on a date.

However, one might think of it as nothing unusual, a lot of girls throughout his school life confessed to Jotaro, even going as far as to follow him desperately. Yet he always denied any advances, sometimes even harshly telling the girls to stop screaming.

But today was different. It wasn’t the usual fans of his that finally got a positive answer. It was his long-time friend Kakyoin Noriaki. The idea of going out with him made Jotaro anxious. Because unlike any other people he knew, he felt strongly about his noodle-haired friend. He couldn’t really say he ‘loved’ Noriaki but all these times Kujo’s heartbeat speed up at the sight of Kakyoin, him talking about games and manga, his laugh and smile. Those moments existed and it would be ignorant to deny them.

Surprisingly, he was the one to ask Kakyoin out, even in his cold and restrained way.

“Kakyoin” Jotaro’s voice cut through the room as the only source of the sound was a game Kak was currently playing. F-mega, to be exact.

“I told you to call me Noriaki” the teenager noted, still focused on his game “What is it?”

“Do you want to go out?” Jotaro wasn’t facing the man, instead also focused on the TV screen before him.

“Now? I mean we went out already before coming to my place” Kakyoin answered, confused a little. Kujo couldn’t help but to say his catchphrase, hoping he didn’t have to spell out what he meant to his friend.

“I mean later”

“It’s kinda late” was the only answer he got, Noriaki’s eyes still on the screen before him

‘This dense fucker, is he joking or what?’ Jotaro felt himself getting annoyed and flustered a little.

“You know what I mean, Kakyoin, stop playing dumb” Jotaro said tiredly, his eyes now on his friend, hoping that Kak would stop pretending.

Kakyoin paused his game, mirroring Jotaro’s actions and looking up to him. The tiniest of smirks was present on his face as he continued “I am afraid I do not understand what you meant. Can you explain it to me?”

“You know what I asked you” Jotaro pushed forward, feeling himself flustered at the idea of having to ‘explain’ to his crush the question. Sitting right next to Kakyoin didn’t make it any better.

“Not really” Noriaki shrugged, still not giving in. There was something about a shy and possibly annoyed Jotaro that made him continue to play dumb.

“Kakyoin”

“I told you to call me Noriaki” the cherry-loving man reminded Kujo.

“Don’t change the topic” Jotaro felt himself getting annoyed at the mischievous nature of his dear friend.

“I am not changing anything; it is you who is getting all hot and bothered by something. Are you okay?” Kakyoin paused his game, turning to look at Jotaro as the latter tried to hide behind his hat.

“I am fine!” Jotaro snapped, looking away further. He could practically hear teasing tones in Noriaki’s voice.

“Why are you so red?” the man leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the flustered and annoyed Kujo.

“I am not! Fucking hell, just answer the question”

“Which one?” Kakyoin gave up on trying to keep it in, instead starting to laugh.

“Okay, fuck this, I am leaving” Jotaro suddenly stood up as Kakyoin continued to laugh. The latter quickly caught his friend by a sleeve. A playful grin was plastered across his face

“Alright, alright, Jotaro, sit down, I won’t joke anymore” Noriaki tried to calm down, now chuckling slightly. His hand moved to squeeze Jotaro’s one, hoping to reassure the annoyed man. Kujo sat down rather harshly, still not meeting Kakoyin’s gaze but also not letting go of his hand.

“Well?”

“I would be happy to go out with you, Jotaro”

Back to Jotaro’s worries. The man stopped, now looking at himself in the mirror what felt like 10th time today. He wanted to make sure he looked appropriate. For once, Jotaro changed his gray shirt into a somewhat nice purple dress shirt, although, he keeps his long black school jacket on. He didn’t need to show Kakyoin that he went out of his way to dress nice. He was Jotaro Kujo after all. But the new touch of purple looked nice on him.

He took a deep breath, patting his back pocket to check if he had put money there. It was the 5th time he checked it within the two minutes, cursing under his breath at his own nervousness. Finally, putting on his hat, tiredly proclaiming ‘fuck it’, Jotaro left his room, moving towards the residence’s exit.

Kujo was slightly praying that he won’t encounter his mom on his way towards, noting to himself that it would be annoying to tell her that he is leaving the room in what felt like forever and the reason behind it is to meet his ‘friend’. His mom would know something his up and Jotaro definitely didn’t feel like telling her the truth. Not today at least. And maybe never.

Luck wasn’t on Jotaro’s side today. He felt steps approach him as he reached the exit, now eyeing his shoes and hoping to escape without the unnecessary chat.

“Jotaro!” Holly’s warm voice resonated in the hallway, making the teenager accept his fate “what a nice sight to see you go out for once” she noted, standing behind her son as the latter hoped she wouldn’t see him dressed up ‘nice’. One glance and numerous questions will be dropped upon him. However, Jotaro didn’t even need to do anything. Before his mother could say anything, Kujo spoke.

“What do you need? I am busy” he half-growled, putting his shoes on lazily. There was no escape from the talk so one might as well start it.

“Where are you going, Jotaro?” Holly asked eagerly, happy tones present in her voice.

“Why does this interest you?” the man answered, still facing away as he finished putting on his shoes, now standing up.

“Well, you are my lovely son after all! And I am interested in your life! Oh?” Holly suddenly inhaled sharply as if concluding “Are you…going to meet someone?”

Oh, she noticed the shirt

“Oh, that is so wonderful! Lemme me see you properly” Holly came closer to him as Jotaro felt himself getting annoyed at her excitement. She quickly stepped in front of him, patting his houlder and looking at the dress shirt “You are dressed nicely for once! I am so happy to see my handsome son going out with-“

“Shut up!” Jotaro spoke out, feeling the annoyance overwhelm him. He wasn’t used to such attention. Not when he is going out. Especially not when he is going out with Kakyoin. “You are annoying” he stated, turning his body away from her. He expected the same cheerful voice to continue talking, however such never came.

For once, Holly was quiet. His mother could only mumble “Ah, alright, I am sorry, Jotaro”, she fumbled with her hands, not knowing what to do. For once, she didn’t push forward. For once, she felt sincerely sad at her son’s words. Jotaro’s eyes widened at that.

Holly was about to turn and walk away from her son, her head unusually low, when Jotaro swiftly caught her arm, making her stop.

“Hey, mom” Jotaro called for her, his voice unusually calm and soft.

Holly silently turned to look at her son, forcing a smile.

“…Do I look okay?” the tiny question could be heard as Jotaro still hid his face away.

Holly suddenly felt a wave of happiness, hearing her son’s nervous voice.

She stepped in front of Jotaro, fixing his jacket a little and making sure he looked his best. The student could only turn his head a little to the side, somewhat embarrassed at her soft smile. Yet somewhere deep inside he was glad that his mom was smiling again.

“Now you look perfect” Holly stepped back, looking at her handsome son. Jotaro mumbled his favorite phrase, turning around to exit the household. His mother eagerly waved, telling him to have fun.

~~~

Now Jotaro was panicking, feeling his hands shake a little, nervously waiting at the spot he and Kakyoin were supposed to meet. Except there was no sign of the latter man. Multiple worrisome thoughts ran through Jotaro’s mind. He was overthinking the situation.

Was he on time?

Did he arrive too early?

Was it even the right day?

The right time?

Maybe Kakyoin didn’t want to see him

Oh god, what if-

“Jotaro!”

Suddenly he heard a familiar voice. Kakyoin was rapidly approaching him, panting a little, indicating that the man must have ran here.

Jotaro quietly let out a sign of relief, glad that his worries and speculations were nothing more than overthinking. He also took notice at the casual look of his friend. Kakyoin’s usual school uniform was unbuttoned, showing a pastal red shirt under it. It was an unusual look yet Jotaro quickly found himself enjoying such sight of Kakyoin.

Kakyoin finally reached Kujo, taking couple of seconds to breathe after such intense run/walk.

“Sorry!” he quickly bowed, worry in his voice “I was caught up with something” Kakyoin looked up at Jotaro, explaining himself.

“It’s alright but” Jotaro spoke up, eyeing the man before him “what would that be, Kakyoin?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Nothing” Kakyoin tried to dismiss the question quickly.

“Bullshit”

“Art project” another try.

“Bullshit again” Jotaro rolled his eyes, now looking directly at Kakyoin, he noted the tired and somewhat red eyes, an indication that the man must have not got enough sleep “Your eyes tell me that someone played F-mega the whole day” Kujo finished his theory.

“Well, aren’t you a detective” Kakyoin chuckled at the deductive skills of his ‘friend’, quickly winking “Are my eyes pretty at least?” he asked, a small smirk appearing on his face.

“Don’t avoid the question” Jotaro sighed at his reply.

Jesus, of course they are Jotaro thought to himself, slightly annoyed at the usual cheeky comments by Kakyoin.

“Oh, right, let’s check out the café” Kakyoin suddenly turned around, hoping to end the conversation about his sleeping schedule.

“Kakyoin”

“Can’t hear you over the sound of my hungriness”

“That’s not how it works”

Before Jotaro could say anything else, Noriaki was quick to take Jotaro’s hand into his own, leading the man towards the café.

“Let’s go”

Jotaro couldn’t help but to try and hide his quickly becoming red cheeks with the hat, mumbling his favorite phrase.

~~~

The two of them sat I the small secluded café. The soft acoustic music was playing while the two of them waited for their orders (they wanted to have a lunch before trying the desserts). Jotaro and Kakyoin sat at the cozy place at the back of the café, seemingly enjoying each other’s company. They sat opposite of each other, placed on the soft sofas, perfect for the long talks.

“How’s your art project going?” Jotaro asked, leaning back on the sofa.

“Somewhat alright, still, I am a bit nervous about it” Kakyoin answered, sighing a little. The man always tried to make sure that everything is perfect.

“Mhm” Jotaro simple mumbled to himself.

“Well, not even a ‘oh baby, I am so sorry you are hurt?’” Kakyoin suddenly teased the man, making a dramatic expression to further make Jotaro roll his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you expect me to say that to you” Kujo noted, hoping to end the conversation before Kakyoin could tease him some more. His pale face can only take so much of Kakyoin’s cheesy nature.

“Well, who knows” Noriaki shrugged, lifting his eyebrows a little to annoying Jojo more.

“I’d rather not”

“Speaking of cute nicknames…” Kakyoin continued with the topic.

“Hmm?” this peaked Jotaro’s interest.

“Why don’t you call me by my first name?” Kakyoin wondered, also leaning back and crossing his arms, yet he had a soft expression on his face.

“I don’t know”

“I started calling you Jotaro right away” Noriaki pushed further.

“Well, Kujo doesn’t really sound nice” Jojo noted, not

“Still, Jotaro, do call me Noriaki” Kakyoin concluded. It was more of a reminder than a request. He didn’t really expect Jotaro to try and call him ‘Noriaki’ but he decided to ask anyway. As long as Jotaro even called him, it was enough.

“I will try”

“Does that mean ‘I will probably disregard your request and try to avoid this conversation in the future?’” Kakyoin raised an eyebrow, his eyes full of playfulness.

“Yeah” Jotaro chuckled, making Kakyoin’s eyes widen a little. Kakyoin found himself liking the sound.

~~~

After the two of them were finished with the main dish, thy decided to order desserts. Jotaro was quick to look over the list, deciding that he wasn’t particularly interested in sweets today.

“What do you want to order?” Kakyoin asked, still looking at the menu.

“Tea probably” Jotaro answered, leaning back on the small soft couch, his eyes now on Kakyoin.

“Boring, try something new” the latter man rolled his eyes at the reply, so much of trying sweets. But at the same time, he expected such answer from Kujo.

“Well, what about you?” Jotaro challenged Noriaki.

“Cherry desert” he answered, closing the menu and also sitting up to now look at Jotaro.

“Predictable, try something new” Kujo smirked a little, seeing somewhat annoyed and cheeky look on Kakyoin’s face. The latter returned the gesture, chuckling a little.

“You got me there” Noriaki smiled, relaxing as they waited for the waiter to approach. Jotaro was trying hard to keep himself under control as the man felt his heart speed up at the sight of chuckling Noriaki. There was something pleasant and happy about him, that Jotaro couldn’t explain.

~~~

After the dessert for Kakoyin and a cup of tea for Jotaro were placed before them, Kujo took notice of the single cherry placed on the piece of cake. He knew exactly where this was going and he was not ready.

“Do you mind?” Kakyoin asked, pointing at the cherry as he was about to take it from the piece of cake.

“It’s not like it will stop you”

“Absolutely” Kakyoin laughed, quickly taking the cherry into his mouth and doing his usual ‘trick’. Jotaro was half-disgusted , half-amused.

“That’s disgusting, Kakyoin” Jotaro noted, sighing a little at the multiple ‘rero’ noises coming from Noriaki.

“But cool nonetheless” Kakyoin answered back, finally eating the cherry but not without taking a good look at Jotaro

“Maybe I can teach you how to tie cherry knot?” the cherry-lover winked.

“Good grief”

~~~

While the evening proceeded slowly and mostly without any problems, Jotaro found himself getting worried. His insecurities caught up to him yet again, making the man worry over the date.

Is he doing it the right way?

Does he need to be open more?

Maybe Kakyoin is getting bored

“Hey” suddenly, a voice called for him, making Jotaro swiftly look up to the person. Kakyoin was smiling lightly, worry present in his eyes. Noriaki reached for his hand, drawing soft patterns on the back f Jotaro’s palm and squeezing a little to help Kujo to calm down.

“It is okay, I am nervous as well, Jotaro” Kakyoin spoke out, smile still on his face. Jotaro noted once again the precise timing. Kakoyin must have felt how anxious he has become, now hoping to ease Jotaro’s worries. Kujo didn’t know how, but Noriaki always succeeded in doing so.

“You don’t look like it” Jotaro felt himself at ease, now fully meeting Kakyoin’s gaze. He allowed himself to smile back at man before him.

“Well, maybe I do not show it but I am” Kakyoin shrugged, answering Jotaro and then adding “and I am also happy to be here with you” he squeezed Jotaro’s hand a little. The latter was quick to use his free hand to lower his hat, muttering a small ‘thank you’. This made Kakyoin chuckle as he retrieved his hand back.

Jotaro noted to himself that he missed the warm feeling right away yet couldn’t find the strength to take Noriaki’s hand again.

~~~

The two of them sat in the café for almost the entire evening, noting the time after many hours. Two men exited the café, now walking towards Jotaro’s home. Noriaki insisted on walking Jotaro back home and it was shorter that way anyways.

While Kakyoin was fully into telling the most random facts to Kujo, the latter man was once again analysing his actions. This time, he really wanted to take Kakyoin’s hand. The thought of it kept bugging him since the incident in the café.

“Jotaro….Jotaro!”

“Uh?” Kujo finally realized that someone has been calling him for the past 20 seconds. He now turned his attention to Kakyoin as the latter was quite surprised by an uncharacteristic action.

“Did you hear what I asked?” Noriaki sighed, pretty much expecting to retell whatever he was asking Jotaro.

“Not really” Jotaro shrugged. No need to lie here.

“Figures” Kakyoin answered, then continuing “I asked if you want to visit an art museum next week? I know you are probably not interested by there is going to be a good installation and I want to find inspiration. But it’s okay if-“ he felt himself being cut off by the strong voice.

“I want to” Jotaro simply said.

“Oh? That was unexpected” Noriaki sounded surprised at the fast answered, now looking at Jotaro as the latter instead looked forward, definitely not ready to face the man.

“Can’t I enjoy art for once?” Kujo let out a small annoyed growl, challenging Kakyoin.

“Well, you can but you might get bored” Noriaki shrugged. He didn’t know for certain if Jojo was interested in art.

“Not with you” Kujo mumbled, hoping that it won’t reach Kakyoin’s ears. Of course it did.

“Oh? Is that a cheesy line I heard? From the Jotaro Kujo?” Noriaki smiled widely, hearing the small response. He was quickly to catch the side of the small blush covering Jotaro’s cheeks, no matter how hard the man tried to seem disinterested.

“It was probably a wind”

“It is not windy at all”

“Alright, alright” Jotaro gave up, sighing. He gathered his courage, finally taking Kakyoin’s hand into his own yet not meeting Noriaki’s eyes “I just… like spending time with you, no matter where really. As long as you are there…” Kujo half-mumbled, not knowing how to clearly express himself in this situation.

But to Kakyoin, it didn’t matter. The man smiled, squeezing Jotaro’s hand, now moving slightly closer to Kujo so that their shoulders would touch as they walked.

“Jotaro, I feel the same” Noriaki’s smile widened, making Jotaro’s heartbeat sped up at the lovely sight in front of him. He quickly hid behind his hat, returning the light squeeze

~~~

After some time, the approached the house. The two of them stood a little away from the house, hoping to say goodbyes without anyone interrupting.

“Thank you for today” Kakyoin turned to Jotaro, a soft smile present on his face. This almost made Jotaro feel weak in his knees on how gentle and beautiful Kakyoin looked.

“Well, we planned this” he instead answered, hoping not to sound too sappy.

“Still, it was nice”

No answer

“Jotaro?”

He could only nod, finding it hard to talk as his heartbeat was pretty much overshadowing his thoughts and logic.

“Lean down a little, will you?” Kakyoin asked teasingly.

“What for?” for once, Kujo didn’t know what to do or say. His heart was beating way too fast for his liking and he felt his face heating up rather quickly.

He heard Kakyoin let out a small groan. Noriaki took the chain of Kujo’s jacket, bringing the man closer and planting quick soft kiss on Jotaro’s lips.

“Sometimes I wonder how many braincells do you have, Kujo” he chuckled, trying to catch Jotaro’s gaze.

“Whatever” Jotaro turned away, hoping to avoid looking at Kakyoin. This instead made the latter worry.

“Did you not like it, Jojo?” Noriaki suddenly spoke up, worry evident in his voice. Did he misread the atmosphere? Maybe Jotaro didn’t want that? Maybe it wasn’t good?

“I am sorry if I went out of line, I-“

“I did, stop panicking, Noriaki” Jotaro cut him off quickly, placing his hand on Kakyoin’s shoulder in hopes of calming him down.

He liked it way too much

“OH? OH!” Kakyoin’s face suddenly lit up in happiness. Kujo then realized what did he do, feeling his cheeks warm up even more.

“You didn’t hear anything” he tried to say something.

“Oh I did~” Noriaki teased him further, now leaning forward to try and catch Kujo’s eyes.

“Shut up, go home already” Jojo tried to brush him off unsuccessfully.

“I will remember this moment forever~”

Jotaro seemingly finding the last amount of strength, placed his hand on Noriaki’s soft cheek, leaning down again, swiftly shutting up the cherry lower with a quick kiss so that his poor red face won’t suffer any more of Kakyoin’s teasing. It seemed to have worked as Kakyoin was now softly smiling and simply looking at Jotaro without a word.

“Alright” Noriaki half-whispered, hugging the man closer. Kujo eagerly returned the hug, realizing that both of their hearts are beating rapidly. He wasn’t the only one being this nervous. And he wasn’t the only one being excited. After couple of minutes, the two of them broke the hug as Kakyoin now has turned towards his direction and started to walk.

“I will see you later” Noriaki waved a little, a small smile still present on his face.

“Yeah” Kujo mumbled to himself returning the gesture.

Yeah

Next week

He couldn’t wait

#jotakak #Jjba scenarios #jojo scenarios #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo headcanons #jjba headcanons #jotaro x kakyoin

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