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just-jordie-things · 1 year

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[part four] to build a home - gojo satoru

word count: 3.8k warnings: !!manga spoilers!! swearing, jjk-verse style fighting series summary: when (y/n) (y/l/n) catches wind that the notorious sorcerer killer, toji fushiguro, has children, she makes it her personal mission to find them. the catch being she couldn't tell a soul about them- the risk of the zen'in clan learning about them was too great. keeping the secret isn't the hard part, it's lying to her friends, shoko ieiri, geto suguru, and of course gojo satoru, that she struggles with. especially when satoru has suddenly become so keen on keeping an eye on her lately.

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[part four] : "Megumi and Tsumiki ___

To her luck, there was a public bench stationed just across the street from the address (y/n) had followed. So she was able to sit there and mindlessly scroll through her phone while she waited for any sign of the Fushiguro children.

It was nearing five o’clock, and school had long been out, she’d known because she’d just come from breaking into the empty building, so it was only a matter of time before there was some clue of this being the right house.

She could have approached it, peeked through windows, perhaps even tried to break in since getting into the elementary school had been so easy. But she figured it would look pretty suspicious to break into a house in broad daylight, especially if the kids caught her in the act.

It probably wouldn’t look too good if I was caught breaking into a house to spy on kids, she thought to herself. So in the end she opted to spy from across the street, at a much safer distance.

But the longer she waited, the more anxious she became. The battery on her phone was dwindling, the sun was starting to set, and to be honest she was getting a little hungry. She worried that she would run out of time, and she’d have to come back another day to try again.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she turned her phone off to save what little power it had left, and ran her clammy palms against her jeans.

Just as she was gearing herself up to abandon her investigation for the night, the front door opened.

She quickly turned her head, appearing to look down the street, while she kept her gaze on the house from the corner of her eye.

Megumi, the little boy, stood there, and after a few seconds, his sister, Tsumiki, also appeared.

(y/n) bit her lip to keep her smile hidden. She’d found them. After months, she’d finally found them.

She couldn’t help herself from returning her gaze to where the pair stood at the doorway, only to find them running across the street, towards where she sat. Anxiously, her head whipped in both directions to make sure no cars were coming- to her relief there weren’t- but she still stood to scold the pair as they approached.

“Don’t you know not to go running in the street!?” She asked them. “You could get very, very hurt!”

She hadn’t seen them so close yet. Last week when she’d seen them in an altercation with older kids, she’d been too far to get too good of a look at them, but now they were right before her.

While young, Megumi looked just like his father. She tried to keep her expression neutral, even as a painful, sinking feeling swallowed her gut.

“Why are you spying on our house?” The boy demands, his brows in a deep furrow and his hands on his hips.

She almost wanted to laugh at how adorable he looked.

“I was not spying on your house” She says with a nervous chuckle.

The young boy raises a brow, as though asking, really?

“Megumi, be nice” The girl next to him hissed, before looking up at (y/n) with a sweet smile.

“She’s a stranger!” Megumi hissed back.

(y/n) chuckled at the amusing pair.

“I don’t want to freak you out, or anything,” She tells them. “I… I know your dad”

She’s not sure if that was the right thing to say or not, but it was the only thing that she could come up with to make her a little less of a freak that was just stalking their house. They had every right to be scared of her, after all.

“Oh” Tsumiki’s smile faltered.

“Unfortunate for you” Megumi rolled his eyes.

Tsumiki smacks the back of his head, earning a glare from him.

“Yeah,” (y/n) agreed, letting out a breath. “Quite unfortunate”

The pouty kid eyes her up and down, regarding her agreement with a curious eye.

“Who are you, then?” He asks, albeit unsurely.

“I’m (y/n),” She responds, and crouches down to their level. “I suppose I already know your names,” She says, smiling between them. “Tsumiki… Megumi”

The little girl grins ear to ear.

“Dad told you about us?”

Megumi scoffs, rolling his eyes at his sister’s ridiculous sense of hope.

“More or less…” She trails off, trying to find where to draw the line of honesty and oversharing.

It seemed like these kids didn’t even know their father was dead… but she chalked that up to them barely knowing the man at all.

“I don’t know him very personally,” She decides to settle on a small truth. “But I know enough to know that you two shouldn’t be here all alone”

“We’re not alone,” Megumi deadpans. “We’re here together”

(y/n) gives him a small smile, finding his words sweet, even if he was still frowning.

“And that’s good,” (y/n) agrees. “I’m glad that you’re together, you’re safe together, and you should stay together,”

Megumi visibly relaxes a little before her. His shoulders slump down a bit, and his eyes soften. (y/n) can tell that the prospect of being taken away from Tsumiki is something that scares Megumi, just from this small interaction.

“I suppose that’s why I’m here,” She tells them. “I want to help, to make sure that you can stay together”

“That’s nice of you,” Tsumiki says, her elbow nudging into Megumi’s ribs. “See? Not everyone is a bad person” She chides.

Megumi shoves her elbow away.

“And what’re you going to do to help?” Megumi asks, still not sure he could trust her. “We don’t need money”

Tsumiki glares at her brother, but (y/n) speaks up before they could pick a fight with each other.

“Well, for starters, if you’re living here alone, you’ll need someone around to help you with adult things”

“You’re a teenager” Megumi’s brows furrowed again.

“I’m eighteen,” (y/n) shrugged her shoulders. “And I might be all you got,” She adds. “So when there’s a parent-teacher night at your school, or you need to pay a grown-up bill, that’s what I can be here for,” She explains. “I know you two are very grown up, and you’ve been very brave, taking care of yourselves,” She smiles warmly between them. “But it would do you some good to have someone looking out for you, alright?”

Tsumiki nods in agreement, seemingly happy with the arrangement. Megumi still looks unsure, but he’s not arguing anymore, so (y/n) took that as a good sign.

“If you’ll let me, of course,” (y/n) adds, looking at Megumi directly. “If you want me to leave you alone, I will. We can both pretend this never happened, and I’ll go home and you won’t ever see me again”

“No” Tsumiki frowns, shaking her head.

(y/n) smiles at her, and turns to Megumi.

“It’s up to the both of you,” She tells him. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

Megumi looks over at his older sister, who’s giving him her best puppy dog eyes and pouty lip. He caves.

“Fine,” He says to (y/n). “You can help out”

(y/n) stands, ruffling up both of their hair, much to the young boy’s dismay.

“Alright then,” She says happily. “Have either of you eaten?”

Both kids shake their heads no.

“Is there any food in your pantry? I’m an excellent cook”

Standing in the kitchen of what was Toji Fushiguro’s home is odd. (y/n) finds herself examining every little thing that she passes. For two kids living alone for the last six and a half months, the house wasn’t in as much disarray as she was expecting. Although she does tell them the next time she comes by, she’s going to catch up on some chores that need doing. Dusting, vacuuming, but the house is otherwise kept tidy.

“Tsumiki cleans everything” Megumi says, sitting at the dinner table in the kitchen.

(y/n) smiles over at the girl.

“Good for you” She compliments.

“I just clean up the dishes and do the laundry,” She says bashfully, looking down at her hands in her lap. “I don’t really know how to do anything. I only know how to make mac and cheese”

“Well, mac and cheese is delicious,” (y/n) tells her. “But I can make anything you want with what’s here,” She says, looking back at the fairly stocked pantry.

Did these kids shop for themselves?

“So, what sounds good?” She asks.

Megumi and Tsumiki share a glance.

“Anything?” Megumi asks after a beat of silence.

“Sure,” (y/n) agrees. “Something in mind?”

A small smile finally shows up on his face.

“Do you know how to make french toast?” He asks, hopefully.

(y/n) laughs to herself, and nods her head eagerly.

“I do!” She says. “Breakfast for dinner it is!”

As she gathers the ingredients and supplies, she tries to make a mental note of where everything is in their kitchen. She wanted to get familiar quickly, so that she could establish herself as a regular figure in their lives.

She’s not sure what kind of figure that is, caretaker, she supposed, even though they’d done alright taking care of themselves all this time. She feels warm, and proud, that she’d finally found the elusive Fushiguro kids, and that they’d welcomed her into their home

She spends time getting to know them as she makes them their dinner. She learns that Megumi is eight, and Tsumiki is almost ten. (y/n) excitedly told her that they’d have to celebrate her upcoming birthday in a special way. Megumi wasn’t as open to sharing as his sister, but (y/n) didn’t mind. For now she’d take his age and that his favorite food right now was french toast, and that was enough.

He’s the one to ask her a question she wasn’t expecting once they all sat down to eat.

“You’re one of those sorcerers, aren’t you?”

(y/n) blinks, quickly trying to think through her answer. She knew that he was of age to know he had special abilities, so if she lied, she’d get caught in it later if he reveals he’d already known of his cursed technique. But she’s not sure telling the truth is a good idea, either.

With a sigh, she goes with her gut.

“Yes…” She says, slowly, still trying to find the right thing to say. “I am”

Megumi nods, stabbing a rather large bite of french toast onto his fork.

“Toji told us about them,” He says. (y/n) notes how he doesn’t call the man Dad, although she doesn’t blame him. “Are you a good one? Or a bad one?”

(y/n) chuckles, and her laughter seems to take Megumi by surprise, as his chewing slows and he waits for her answer.

“Well, I suppose I try my best to be good,” She tells him honestly. “But there’s not really such a thing as all good or all bad, is there?”

"Like yin and yang” Tsumiki says thoughtfully. (y/n) nods at her.

“Exactly,” She agrees. “Does that make sense?”

Megumi nods, swallowing his food, and goes back to being quiet.

He spends a long time thinking about what she said.

Once dinner is finished, (y/n) cleans up their plates and does some light organizing in the kitchen while the kids get ready to go to bed. She feels odd, knowing that she has to leave when they go to sleep. She doesn’t like the idea of leaving them here alone for the night, but tries to keep in mind that they’ve been doing it all this time.

They’re the most resilient people she’s ever met, for being eight and nine year-olds.

She checks her phone when she wraps up in the kitchen, and curses to herself at how late it was. It was almost nine o’clock. She’d have to get back to Jujutsu Tech soon.

She wanders over to the hall where she’d seen Megumi and Tsumiki disappear, and finds their bedrooms across from one another, both of their doors open. They’re settled into bed, Tsumiki cuddling a small plush tiger, and Megumi holding a book.

They look so comfortable, she thinks, and smiles to herself.

“You’ll both be okay if I go home now?” She asks.

“We don’t need to be tucked into bed, (y/n)” Megumi says dryly.

“Yeah, we’ll be okay” Tsumiki says sweetly from across the hall.

“Alright then,” (y/n) sighs. “I left my phone number on the table. If you ever need anything, call me, okay?”

“Okay” The little girl agreed.

Megumi only nodded.

“Goodnight. I’ll be back as soon as I can”

When she leaves, she pauses on the front steps of the house. Shutting her eyes, she brings her index and middle finger to her forehead.

“Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure”

With that, she relaxes a little, knowing that no one with cruel intentions could step on the premises. They were safe for the night, and she could go home without the weight of paranoia now. ___

It’s dark outside when she steps foot through the gates of Jujutsu Tech. For anyone else, a walk home so late would have been unpleasant, but (y/n) hadn’t minded a little stargazing on her journey.

She’s smiling to herself, recalling fond moments with Tsumiki and Megumi, and is already eager to go back into town the first chance she could get to see them again. There was a lot she wanted to do, besides chores, she wanted to treat them to some new clothes, maybe toys, too.

She wanted to give them everything that they deserved, and even after a short introduction, she knew they deserved the world, and not the shitty hand they’d been dealt.

If Toji Fushiguro was still alive…

(y/n) shakes her head, pushing away the bitter thought. He was gone. His kids were safe. And she would keep a protective watch over them. As far as she was concerned, from here on out, they were her responsibility.

When she turned the corner to the hall where her dorm was, there was a figure waiting just outside her door. Curiously, she crossed her arms as she approached him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Suguru?”

He smiles down at her, still leaning against her door. He wasn’t going to move until he got what he waited here for, and he’d been waiting there for some time now.

“How was your trip?” He asks.

The question sounds casual, but she has a feeling there’s a reason Geto Suguru would stand and wait at her dorm, rather than just text her whatever it was he wanted to say.

(y/n’s) face remains blank as she goes along with the act.

“It was nice,” She answered, reaching for the handle of her door. “Are you going to let me in?”

He responds by sliding his body in front of the handle before she could grab it.

“In just a minute,” He tells her. “You’ve been troubling Satoru” His words are bold, matter-of-fact.

She cocks her head to the side, feigning confusion.

“Troubling?” She repeats the word. “How so?”

Suguru raises a brow, pausing for a moment long enough to give her the chance to drop the act. She was certainly getting better at playing coy, but she was still a shit liar.

“Well, for starters, I think you hurt his feelings earlier,” He told her. “He was looking forward to some time with you away from here, you know”

She didn’t know that, but the guilt in her stomach started to claw it’s way around, bringing her great discomfort.

“Oh,” She hums. “I didn’t realize. I’ll make it up to him tomorrow-”

“He took another assignment,” Suguru cuts her off. “He’s leaving tomorrow. Probably gone for the week”

“Oh” (y/n) repeats again.

“Yeah,” Suguru sighs. “Oh,” (y/n) frowns back at him, unsure of what he wanted her to say or do. “Look, whatever it is you’re up to, just clue him in a little, alright?” Suguru asks.

Suguru knew she was up to something? She wondered, her eyes flickering over his features quickly, only to find that he didn’t seem to be interested in whatever it was. He’s not going to ask me about it?

“It’s freaking him out. And it’s making him…”

“Worried?” (y/n) mumbled guiltily.

“I was going to say obnoxious,” Geto chuckled. “But, yeah, he’s just worried about you”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” (y/n) shakes her head. “I’ve just been shopping around in town more”

Such a terrible liar, Suguru thinks, but he doesn’t press the issue. Whatever she was up to, wasn’t his business unless she wanted it to be. She could fend for herself just fine, so if she wanted to spend alone time in the city, then so be it.

Still, he was a little curious as to what it was that she was so adamant about hiding from them. Especially Satoru. If (y/n) was keeping a secret from him, she was going to have to be better about it, because he was going to sniff it out himself if she didn’t come clean.

Clicking his tongue, Suguru finally steps away from her door.

“I wasn’t trying to interrogate you, (y/n/n),” He tells her kindly, reaching out to place a hand on her arm. “I came here as a friend. To both of you. Really”

(y/n) nods back at him, believing him.

“Okay”

“That’s all. Goodnight, (y/n)”

She watches as he turns and wanders down the hall towards his own dorm.

“Goodnight” She mumbles, but he’s long out of earshot by the time she finds her voice.

It’s a near sleepless night for her. ___

The next morning, (y/n) makes a point to get up early to find Satoru before he took off on whatever assignment he’d taken for the week. After her talk with Suguru the night before, she felt like she should ease his nerves.

She also rarely saw him go, and he’s been taking so many missions lately, a part of her was worried it would be a mistake to not say goodbye. Just in case.

Not that anything would ever happen to him, he was the strongest, after all.

But still.

She finds him with a backpack thrown over his shoulder and a duffel bag in hand, heading towards the front doors.

“Satoru!” She calls, jogging to catch up with him

He turns around instantly, his features noticeably brighten upon seeing her. Had she been looking for him?

“Come to say goodbye in case I die?” He teases as she approaches. She rolls her eyes.

“Yeah right,” She snorted. “But I did come to say goodbye”

He grins, dropping his duffel to the ground. Her hair was messy, and she was still wearing her pajamas. The idea of (y/n) waking up and coming to find him first thing made his heart melt.

“Don’t you worry your pretty head about me,” He tells her. “I’m not dyin’ anytime soon”

She laughs, shaking her head at his insufferable need to make her blush. He almost always succeeded. As he did with most things he took a crack at.

“Well, good,” She replied. “I happen to not… totally hate having you around”

Satoru gasps, laying a hand over his chest dramatically.

“(y/n) (y/l/n),” He gasps. “Such a confession could knock a man out, you know”

She laughs at him, smacking his hand.

To her surprise, she succeeds. He must not have his infinity up right now.

Was it for her own satisfaction from hitting him, or did he always turn it off when she was around?

He laughs with her, enjoying her presence for just a few minutes longer before he had to go.

“And yet you’re still standing” She muses back at him.

“Ah, you only give me strength, sweetheart” He teases.

Her eyes are rolling. He’s smiling fondly.

Suddenly, he wants to tell Yaga to send someone else to Hong Kong to check out the mysterious murders. Maybe it would have been immature, but he had no problem saying suck it to the elders and hanging around here for a few more days.

“You’ve been taking on a lot of assignments,” (y/n) notes, dropping the playful mood for a more serious one. “If I didn’t know any better, I might think you were avoiding us” “Avoiding you? Tch,” He chuckles. “I could never”

Despite her smile that she can’t seem to wipe off her face, she gives him a look.

“Satoru,” She chides, gently. “Really,”

It’s quiet, and he gives her a sad sort of smile.

“You’re not giving yourself much of a break,” She says. “Being the strongest doesn’t mean you always have to be out there, you know”

Her voice grows smaller as she speaks, almost unsure of saying something so bold. He didn’t exactly ask for her advice, and she didn’t love being vulnerable enough to make it clear that she worried about him when he was gone.

Behind his shades, his eyes search hers, finding the concern that she tried so hard to conceal. He reaches out, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as he pulls her against him, hugging her tightly to his chest.

“I’m just fine,” He tells her, resting his chin on the top of her head. Sighing, (y/n) gives in, and slowly circles her arms around his waist, hugging him back.

She doesn’t think she’s ever hugged him before. He smells like mint, and something fresh, like clean laundry. Against her better judgment, her eyes flutter shut.

“I’ll be back soon,” He says. “And then we can get right back to perfecting that teleportation of yours”

He pulls away, grinning down at her, poking her nose affectionately. When she crinkles it and steps back from him, he chuckles.

“Alright,” She nods, wrapping her arms around herself absentmindedly. “Might want to be careful, though. Could surpass you one day”

Satoru picks up his duffel bag.

“I hope so,” He says, and it doesn’t sound like he’s messing with her. (y/n) raises a brow. Would he really give up his title of being the strongest so easily? “See you in a week, (y/n/n)” He waves, heading out of the building.

“Have a good trip” She calls, watching him go.

Why was her heart pounding so hard in her chest? He was always going on missions these days, would she really miss him this much? She worries, as the door shuts behind him and he’s out of sight, that it might be so. ___

taglist: @whats-humanity-lol @malinq-ashida @mor-pheus @bekahtaylorgriggs @pookiea @megumimind @thealchemical @pearlstiare @niallerhere @96jnie @purpleguk @peqch-pie @yukinemaroop @strayreader @makis-girl @daisy-the-quake

xoxo - jordie

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keepingsecretstokeepyoutk · 5 months

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So Long London - Full Lyric Analysis

My Gaylor/Kaylor interpretation at a glance: Taylor uses the bearding narrative of her breakup with Joe as an allegory to talk about her reluctant decision to “break up” with her fans/kill off her public persona in the process of coming out.

The Joe bearding narrative was likely created for this very purpose - an "ex" who didn't allow her to "bejeweled" (be her whole self), who she tried to make it work with, tried to change herself for, before realizing she couldn't keep sacrificing her wellbeing, mental and otherwise. Read through this lens, this song is devastating, so prepare yourselves emotionally, maybe have tissues on hand.

I interpret a number of the "break up" songs on this album (almost all of them) as being about her reaching the end of her rope with being in the closet and trying to slowly change her fan's attitude towards her queerness. So many of these songs imply that she has hit her breaking point, and the metaphor of a failing romantic relationship is the perfect vehicle to express this shift.

I believe this precedent exists in her work, and for this particular chapter, was established with "You're losing me".

This is also one of a few songs on the album that conceptualize her fame (as obtained with her public, hetero persona) as a place. In this song, that place is represented by London (hence, "so long, London"). In Florida!!! she may be running away to Florida from this place, (after she comes out and needs to escape the backlash). In "I hate it here", she dreams of escaping this place, and imagines two other locales within the lore of her songs - "secret gardens", a probable parallel to Betty's garden and the "garden gates" in Cruel Summer, as well as the "lunar valleys" referencing the galactic landscape established in Down Bad.

Lets get into it!

Verse 1

“Saw in my mind fairy lights in the mist/kept calm and carried the weight of the rift/pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away/my spine split from carrying us up the hill/wet through my clothes, wary bones caught the chill/stopped trying to make him laugh/stopped trying to drill the safe”

In this first verse, Taylor introduces the idea of her fans being like a partner who isn’t present in the relationship, and more importantly, a partner that is ultimately rejecting her true self.

“Fairy lights in the mist” - Taylor has used daylight/light images to represent the end of her closeting/her coming out for at least 5 years. Here she sees small pinpricks of light amongst darkness and the classic metaphor for hiding/confusion, etc - mist. She is saying that in the past she had hope, she saw a possible path forward to coming out while also keeping all of her fans.

“Kept calm and carried the weight of rift/pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away” - Taylor reflects on her years of hoping that she could slowly introduce her fans the idea that she is not straight, then come out with minimal rupture in her relationship with her fans. She tried to keep the faith and looked past a lot of bad behavior on the part of some of her fans, convinced that she could make them see her and that their love for her would extend past their need for her being the persona they have grown attached to.

“Stopped trying to make him laugh/stopped trying to drill the safe” - ultimately, she gave up, having been rejected too many times - ignored when she clearly signaled her gayness and the masses of her fans just refused to acknowledge it. Beyond refusing to acknowledge it, they bullied those that did see it, demonstrating to her how reviling they found the idea that she might be queer. “Drill the safe” is a metaphor for trying to force something that will never happen, she is realizing she needs to let go of something that isn’t for her.

Chorus

“How much sad did you think I had/did you think I had in me/oh the tragedy/so long London/ you’ll find someone”

Taylor now must ask her fans, how long did you expect me to sacrifice my own happiness while you continue to ignore my pleas for you to see me?

“You’ll find someone” = you’ll find another idol/para social relationship to obsess over, identify with, etc. This is a reference to Dear Reader, when she sang “you should find another guiding light.” In that song, Taylor warned fans that she is not who they think she is ("you wouldn't take my word for it if you knew who was talking"), that the idea they have of her life is constructed, and strongly lamented her life choices, essentially telling fans they shouldn't look to her for life advice, because she is lonely and miserable. Here, the reference not only underscores the idea that they don't know her, but also that she is making the choice for them to "find someone" else, because she is choosing to come out of hiding, and in so doing, is also choosing to leave behind the misery that made her write Dear Reader in the first place.

Verse 2

“Didn’t opt in to be your odd man out/I founded the club she’s heard great things about/ I left all I knew/you left me in the house by the heath/I stopped cpr after all it’s no use/the spirit was gone, we would never come to/ and I’m pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free.”

I made a post about the "Heath" reference that you can read here. Please note the reblog of it that I added an addendum to about the Heath being a park in London. Heath was a doctor that practiced conversion therapy, meaning that her fans "left her at home" with someone trying to change her. By ignoring her signaling, they told her they didn't want the real her, which kept her in the closet, and I fear kept her more vulnerable to those who may have tried to manipulate her into trying to change herself, or deny her true self even behind closed doors.

"I stopped cpr after all its no use/the spirit was gone we would never come to" - again Taylor is using the of a failed romantic relationship to express her lost hope in salvaging the corners of her kingdom that ultimately won't accept her when she comes out. This is also an example of the frequent gothic/death related imagery Taylor uses on this album, a theme consistent with the idea that something is ending, that she is killing off her public persona.

"and I'm pissed off that you let me give you all that youth for free" Taylor has spent so many years choosing her fans and her current carrer path over the full expression of her life and happiness. Again, she had hope that the people who have given her endless validation and effusive praise for years would accept her for who she is. She is realizing that the love between her and at least some of her fans was conditional, and given what we know of how much her fans have meant to her over the course of her career, this was likely a devastating wake up call that took years for her to accept - undoubtedly a huge factor in her seemingly delaying her coming out so many times.

"So long London/Stitches undone/two graves, one gun/I’ll find someone”

Taylor has said her fans are her longest relationship; the imagery in this song reflects the idea that this is a break up with someone she has tried with over and over again. So she undoes the “stitches” that link her to them. This line references her song Glitch on Midnights, “fasten myself to you with a stitch” symbolizing being bonded with a romantic partner (which represent a portion of her fans in this song).

"Two graves one gun" is likely a reference to burying her public persona self, and the second grave could represent her fans (a parallel to the "cheating husband" in "Florida!!!"?) or it could be a shrouded suicidal thought - the second grave being her private persona - both selves being killed off. This lyric is one of my favorites in this song but I don't have a strong conviction on who the second grave is, I'm very open to others' thoughts...

Bridge

“And you say I abandoned the ship/but I was going down with it/my white knuckle dying grip/holding tight to your quiet resentment/and my friends said it isn't right to be scared/every day of a love affair/every breath feels like rarest air/ when you're not sure if he wants to be there/So how much sad did you think I had, did you think I had in me/How much tragedy/Just how low did you think I'd go/Before I'd self implode/before I had to go be free"

"And you say I abandoned the ship...white knuckle dying grip" Taylor emphasizes her wish for things to be different with this lyric, clinging to her ship as it sinks. We all saw her try to right the ship, she's finally choosing to let go and swim to safety (a nautical parrallel to the manuscript's "my trip to your shores"?).

“My friends said it isn’t right to be scared everyday of a love affair…if you’re not sure he wants to be there”

Similar to when someone is in a bad romantic relationship, i imagine her friends expressed their concern that her relationship with her fans is unhealthy. Although many of her friends are high achievers themselves, Taylor’s success is in another league (monster on the hill) and they would likely have expressed their hope that she can slow down and accept a slightly less monumental career in the interest of her mental health.

“How much sad did you think I had/did you think I had in me/Just how low did you think I’d go?” “before I self implode/before I have yo go be free”

Taylor imagines arguing with her fans in the throes of the break up, and in this passage it becomes clear that she is convinced they know the truth but are refusing to acknowledge it. That they allowed her to keep faking her straight persona for their sake. That she was a woman pushed to her limits by a partner (fans) who knew they were running her ragged, a partner that didn’t in fact love her, but loved what she could do for them.

So she asks them, how long did you think I could keep doing this before it broke me? How long did you think I would go along with this, be willing to sacrifice for you? how much would she fake/take the money to keep up the straight persona?

“You swore that you loved me but where were the clues?/I died on the altar waiting for the proof/ you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days”

The para social relationship is again a perfect match for the metaphor of a partner that uses you but doesn’t meet you in relationship as a full person. The praise puts you on an altar, but their actions don’t reflect the effusive words. “Bluest days” is a red herring to match the bearding narrative/fan rumor that Joe’s mental health affected their relationship, but also could be interpreted as the fans overlooking her truth in the interest of relying on the idea that their favorite pop star has the same boy problems that they do, their "bluest days" were the days they were torn up over a relationship or an unrequited love and needed her break up anthems, and they wouldn't have the same effect if they knew (and weren't in denial) that the songs are about women (or now about them, ironically).

Last Verse/Outro

“I’m just getting color back into my face/im just mad as hell cause I loved this place/for so long London/had a good run/moment of war son/but I’m not the one”

The first line here parallels the language in “you’re losing me”, which uses the metaphor of a relationship literally dying (“i can’t find a pulse”, etc). In this song she is leaving the relationship to save herself, and in leaving she is recovering her health, hence getting the color back in her face after being pale when sick and near death.

“This place” or London, is a stand in for the world, the Swiftverse that she created for and with her fans. It had been her life’s work, her source of pride, self worth, her legacy, but now she must leave, because it was built in large part around a self she created to make herself palatable to the fans she amassed. She can’t be that person anymore, and maybe in some ways “this place” doesn’t even really feel like hers. This parallels Florida!!!, "your home's really a town you're just a guest in/so you work your life away/just to pay for a timeshare down in Destin". She is just a guest in the musical world of the brand of Taylor Swift that she spent her whole life building ("the story isn't mine anymore")

To close, she repeats the main lines of the chorus,

“So long London/Stitches undone/two graves, one gun/you’ll find someone”

This repetition drives home the finality of this decision - her exit, her killing her public persona, her detaching herself from those that don't see and support her, and her reassuring herself that those people will find someone else to worship, and someone else to see themselves in, and her realization and relief that they aren't her responsibility anymore.

#gaylor #kaylor #bearding #closeting #ttpd #so long london

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me-uglypretty · 1 year

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they have not chosen me

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Summary: In her rage of not being chosen, Natasha expresses herself to the one person she will always choose.

Warning: (18+), AU, smut, fingering, cunninglingus | 2k words

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“They have not chosen me!”

Her voice challenges them; fools absently picking at their lofty hats, forfeiting their attention from the growls of her exhausted heart. She was perceived as the brute of their conversations, those verses of her were spoken among elite parties, a name that rolls from their filthy tongue into the humid air, the kind of fury that glaze their dull eyes at the sight of her—a woman united with courage, brilliance, passion, and youth—the very form of life which they spite. She was the lone force that charred their miserable existence.

Natasha Romanoff.

The name that wends a faint sound in your throat, orbiting your pulsing heart so persistently, instigating your whole self into a tangled mess, and clumsily falling at your feet. Thus, your body stumbles with the circular bamboo woven basket that was once held firmly in your jaded hands, and those freshly harvested vegetables faced the same devastation at their unforeseen fall.

A known voice, charming and teasing, induces through your moment of embarrassed and dread. “Another mishap?”

The apprehensive guise remained on your face as you hastily gather the fallen vegetables without bothering to clean the additional dirt of mud and stones that stuck. It was that, or you would face far worse, perhaps, the taunting voices of those around and being the component in their immoral act of thieving in daylight for self-amusement at other’s suffering.

Unbeknownst to your muddled state, Natasha had perceived your stumble which had occurred mere seconds after her brash speech. At the sight of your hunched posture, she was simply lured towards you. Her lavish shoes stumps brashly on the ground, emphasising on self-confident that fear itself cowers.

“You’re a clumsy one, uh?” Natasha teasingly jabbed, concluding her question with a chuckle.

In other circumstances—unlike one that would undoubtedly rouse a crowd or worse, a conflict between the status that laid across people of this dreadful town—you would have glared into round eyes gleaming in arrogance while yours flash with irritation. Your tongue would have spat bitterly at her mockery and still, you would perceive the same arrogance smile on her face as you continued expressing your irritation. However, such pleasure was expressed in the confined space of your mind and silence had, will always remain the safer decision than uttering insolent words in front of their prying eyes.

“Awfully quite too.”

And you, still situated in such a helpless state, surrounded by those fools coexisting with her, could only muster a sluggish nod.

“I will walk you back home,” she spoke, before swiftly grasping the handle of your bamboo basket and carrying that broad article as though, it was hers to own. “Follow me, clumsy.”

You disregarded the sound of disapproval that burns at the tip of your tongue and the apparent disrespect at her audacious act. Instead, you had silently trailed behind her, each step seemingly pretentious for those prying eyes, till the village fade at the path that revealed natures’ heavenly greenery.

Trees stood tall, wide, and leafy. Mosses spread the ground and trunk of said trees. Little vegetation grew unreservedly from ruthless civilisation. The scenery was all that appealed relaxed breaths from your lungs.

Your curious eyes shift from flourishing nature as your attention redicts to the vegetables bouncing carelessly in a basket that was meant for your hands to hold. Her fervent steps were to blame. The expression on her face bore a look of bravery and yet, drawing creases on her forehead as her eyebrows furrowed and eyes that gleam so mercifully with nature, shone sadly of anguish. And your eyes, round and wide, curious as they are, remained crucially on her face.

Natasha noticed your attention on her and hums a saddening song that gust into the humid air. “They have not chosen me,” she repeated those words, a verse that exudes despair from her voice. Natasha tilts her head to meet your attentive gaze. “But I have chosen them,” she announced with finality.

And you would continue to wonder for days to come, why had they not chosen her?

“I have chosen them.”

Your mouth remained shut while hers lingers with empty openings of questions, shuffling between brief meeting of eyes that descents lower and lower, then the corner of her lips curls while yours was pressed in a thin line. You had mused the thought and accepted a conclusion of her, of such disapproval for someone like her.

Natasha was unlike them. She must be, she is perhaps the best among them. Excellent in those expectations established on women, considerable of other’s emotions, outwardly brave as she walks and talks, and she so courageously questions the law bestowed upon them. Natasha, as her own, a unique kind of person, completely self-aware, ignorance ceased to exist by her, and yet—

“I have chosen them.”

For once, those words that slips from her mouth sounded like a confession that fell melodiously by your ears. Warmth embraces your cheeks as her sly eyes lingers on your face, basking the slight alterations to your expression. The bamboo basket was left abandoned on the ground as her hands extends further to seam the gap placed between two. The excruciating cold, the painful longing, and so deprived of affection as her hands presses on your cheeks and you contemplate of them.

“I have chosen them,” Natasha whispered, huff of warm breath touched your pursed lips, and her thumb parted your mouth wide open for her. “I have chosen them,” she confessed gently, her eyes shimmers in the reflection of nature’s hues as she passionately gazes into your round eyes, certainly wide and eager for her. “I have chosen you.”

Her declaration conveys with her action as she pushed your backward, pressing your back directly against the rough surface of a tree which leaves crowns above, sheltering two bodies from the scorching sun. It felt as though, time halted for the mere seconds where her hand grasps your jaw while the other rested on your upper chest to ensure you remained at that same potion. Exactly where she wanted you, where she needed you.

You felt lost, so unaware of those increasing thoughts wandering in her mind at such momentum. But you felt the upsurge heat that spread your face, neck, chest, and only worse when her face inches closer to yours, just readily wanting to collide with you.

Then, you counted the moments in between. First, the gust of cold wind that made your shiver, the second that chimes in birds merrily chirping at daylight, the third appeared in sounds of leaves and branches brushing against each other in such symphony—and the pressure that lead after, her lips pressed firmly over yours. A stunned gasp left your mouth, slowly resonating as moans when her hand fell to your waist and confines your body close into her.

Natasha doesn’t spare a moment for your breaths to normalise. Her mouth clashes with yours, swallowing each sound that left your throat, kissing you so familiarly, sucking your tongue as your lips parted effortlessly for more of her. Kisses pressed so keenly on your lips, leading to your chin, and an excruciating moment after where your hand guided her mouth back over yours. The need to feel her, to taste her, for tongues to meet and dance together, you craved for that more than life itself.

There, beneath the broad tree, an unspoken promise was whispered in peckish moans. Her hands briskly tampering with the laces that held your dress, wisps of breath left your mouth at the warmth that spread the width of your body from her heavenly presence. The kind of satisfying hum resonates in your throat the moment her hand slips beneath hefty fabric.

“I choose you,” Natasha murmured, her fingers courageously stroke your bundle of nerves. A hint of something ardent sparks from within by the next words that followed. “I choose you,” her mouth delays by your gaping mouth. Those words carried merrily through your throat, and announcing its arrival at each intense thump of your heart.

It was wet, sloppy, so shamefully disordered when she explores the spaces between your thighs, and you felt the pulsating that rouse in your cunt for her; someone known and unknown, the pure melody of forbidden pursuit on respected grounds, of pleading for her at sinful hours while her round rosy lips shone with a victory grin at your hopeless whine for more of her than the measured touch of her fingers.

“Please,” you had pleaded at that hour, the same sound that was forced from your mouth when she was relentless with her teasing. Your hands were pressed on her shoulders, nails digging into the pads of her dress. “Please,” you whined, thrusting your body forward into hers, and shamelessly continuing the sounds of your voice begging for her to devour you as the chosen one she swore upon.

In her usual manner of complete brashness, where one hand was positioned familiarly over your chest, Natasha gropes the curve of your breast and incited a lurid moan from you. It takes another loud whine for her hand to trail a path that led to your neck, before firmly grasping the base of your neck in her warm hand. It was a warning to silent yourself, or to speak for what you needed, or something—absolutely anything.

At the midst of her firm grasp, you felt her fingers slide into your folds, her leisure ministrations made your inside swarm with a need for more. A beast stirred awake by sinful urges, that your body thrust more into her, grinding unashamedly against her fingers and your eyes shut closed at the hurried pleasure that flood your senses.

“So greedy,” Natasha mocked, her thumb circles your clit. “I can feel you around my finger,” she husked, her voice that sounded so heroic seemed to alter into a tone that only you were fortunate to know.

By her voice, her heavenly honied voice, you felt yourself clenched around her fingers. Something that was so foreign to you was made known by her, such warmth, such corruption to your hopeless mind that you wished for more. She, Natasha, everything you desired to survive.

“Natasha,” her name falls from your mouth as desperate pleads.

It was fascinating to her by the way her eyebrows furrowed at your sounds, closely listening to each whine that drew from your throat and your mouth huffing pleads at her ministration. Natasha listened, applying more pressure as her mouth pressed harshly on yours, and your breathless state was disregard as she continued kissing you like air was granted by that sole action.

“Nat, I feel— don’t stop, please,” your hand found hers between the fumbles of body chasing a common hunger. As if, her touch was the saving grace for your corruption. It wasn’t wrong, it could never be assumed as that, not when she was there with you.

But she stopped.

A whine erupts angrily from your mouth, conveying the ache that was replaced from the pleasure felt. At such state, your mind remained absent, only chasing after the hunger, and your hand hauled hers back. Natasha denied the clash for your pleasure and recoils your touch from her hand. Laugher fills her chest while your heart thumps with anticipation.

The hand that was once situated between your thighs, were closing into your face. Her fingers glistens when the sunlight shines through, the same fingers tracing your lips intently while you admire her. Cheekbones tinge of crimson, perhaps, the weather was chilly or the aftermath of her mouth over yours. Her eyes were bright, orbs of such that stares straight into your soul, and grasping the little parts of you as her own.

Natasha eyes remains on your face as she takes a step backwards and slowly bends her knees. An act known to those who had touched her feet while she stared at them as nothing, but common fools pleading for her forgiveness after their thoughtless act. However, you were different, she had never positioned herself in such manner and yet, your gaze lowered with her and eyes gleaming with such care for her.

Her knees prods into the muddy ground, feeling indifferent for the dirty that would swear to ruin her dress. Keen hands grasp for your dress as you stood there, she fumbles with the heavy material as soft grumbles left her mouth, before she hastily pushed the bothersome away from her path. At that hour, Natasha acted as though, she had known from the beginning of what she desired, determination blazing proudly in her round eyes that shimmer vividly in hues of forest green and blue of the sky above.

Those eyes soften for mere seconds, a silent question lingers in the air to which you answered with an assured nod. The smile that graces after was gentle enough that curses which swirls in your mind ceased to exist. Natasha, so arrogant at first, so her, so someone only you know beneath the persona that left them trembling.

Natasha’s head pushes beneath your dress, disappearing from your sight, you lose her somewhere, till you felt the hot air that blew at your heat, and the warmth wetness that touch you. A loud groan left her throat by the moans that fell from your mouth. Her tongue pressed over your cunt, dragging her wetness to your clint as she circles the swollen nub with such urgence, and felt the combination of slick.

Her tongue was there, your cunt was already wet from her previous ministration, and her tongue thrust into your wanting hole. The abrupt shove of her tongue made your mouth whine of pleasure and hand searching for where her head was situated, to find those strands of red standing in contrast to your grey tinge dress. Your fingers tangle in her hair to feel more, to push her into your pulsating core.

It’s so wrong, you heard yourself whisper into the cloud of lust in your mind, and it’s so right, you countered back. It’s perfect to feel the edges of her tongue, her fingers, the clever ways she incites cries from your mouth at the warmth that spread your stomach to your chest. Natasha has always been relentless. She vowed to have you begging, tears spilling from your eyes at the sheer pleasure that rouse from her touch.

At the high of your orgasm, she pressed a lingering kiss on your mound, another on your stomach that rouse at each harsh intake of breath, and slowly leading a path of kisses to your thighs.

Natasha pushes herself back, steading herself by resting her hands on your waist as she stood. You see her this way; eyes blown of lustful urges, lips swollen of moments before that left your mouth wide open, her untidy hair with red strands sticking to her forehead as her skin glistens with sweat, and the slick that coated her lips to her chin—of your release, of a promised pleasure, of prove she had committed the sin you craved.

Her tongue darts across her lips, her fingers grip your waist fervently. Those eyes stares into yours, seemingly looking at you like you were everything to her. Like she had not cried because of them, expressing such regret and anger of their act. It was like, she knew of what she wanted from the start of day to the end of night.

“I have chosen them,” Natasha whispered, and your hands shakily reach for her face. “I have always chosen you,” she expressed before your mouth pressed furiously over hers.

The taste of you that lingered for hours and days to come, the taste of her that flames in anger and so vivid of life, just you and her—something that they will never understand.

Natasha had dared from the start, grasping your hand to urge for your body to follow her, the promise that settled the ache in your chest, and that of her hand slipping between your thighs. You know that dishonour and sins were shared from the first moment her eyes met yours, when your mouth plead for her touch and she cried when your hand met her warmth. It was love, it was all that they had not chosen, but of what you and her had chosen.

She had chosen you, and you would always choose her.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader smut

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not-a-mimic · 8 months

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why is it an important point that alan is very light sensitive and prone to migranes? other than being a disability rep for those of us who cannot function in broad daylight without sunglasses and explaining why the bright lights in aw1 are such a pain to look at (from alan's point of view) but like. it's important.

we see it in the flashback with alice where alan is hangover and seemingly has his sunglasses next to his bed already - a little weird right? and alice mentions them as well - because this is common. because he often needs them. frankly speaking from experience you don't get to the point where the sunglasses become a mandatory bedside fixture unless it's a really bad day often - which must be the case here. we also see then in 'herald of darkness' where "Dark shades could never save the day" and we see alan in shades. it's common for him. he does it often. mood! anyway mr champion of light being sensitive to light is just a funny coincidence right? wrong.

I also suspect that alan's tendency towards full outfits is also a part of this. no sane human wears that many layers in september, and alan specifically covers pretty much all the skin possible without looking weird. also a lot of his article shots in rose'.... shrine have sunglasses and thick layers as well. this man is SENSITIVE sensitive to light and that's a coincidence I can't ignore in the remedy!verse.

alan was born (as stated in aw2) in 1977 - we don't know when, or where as he moved to new york later. his mother spent most of his childhood in psychiatric facilities, and his father is not only non existent but highly suspiously fictional (the only object we are told alan has of him is the clicker. the fucking clicker. tom zane's clicker that was definitely written into alan's life before he was born and was not a gift from his father proper. frankly we know the least about alan's childhood compared to all other remedy!verse protags - not knowing where or truly when he was born is important because it leaves options.

Light sensitive could be a coincidence - but we thought that about the nightmares too, and they turned out to be important clues. and hell- *Scratch* is less sensitive to light than Alan is - only flashbangs and the super steong hand flares make him flinch, direct light seems fine unless super powered and normal flares are nothing. alan actively gets headaches from these things and obviously it hurts him. wtf is up with that? when the protection of the dark presence patches up your weakness you have a issue.

theory time:

we know alan is tied to this god damn lake. zane wrote it so - at very least alan was destined to fall in it at the end of aw1. but what if there is more? we also know that alan's darkness became at least the aw2 dark presence which. fine? an endless cycle of destroying yourself while under the impression that that's not yourself. we don't know if the dark presence in aw1 is also this same one, and if it isn't we now know there can be multiple dark entites (implied by Mr Scratch also). if it is then damn alan has issues.

I don't know if its just me but the fact that the small darkness within someone can be escalated out to being the whole larger dark presence at full power feels... off. that feels like it doesn't work with what we know of the entities- unless there was more darkness in alan then originally suspected fueling this presence. the strength of the dark presence born from him combined with the strength of his light sensitivity makes me very suspicious to how human he was originally, and how much of alan is just lake bullshit. if he was a creature or creation of the darkness forced into a human body (perhaps the 1976 awe the andersons fought back in brightfalls wasn't all it seemed. maybe the dark presence or something else was looking for a crack to escape through. maybe it succeeded, but was reborn as a human who was already showing signs at a young age of being light sensitive and also being a parautiltiarian, and a strong one at that.

maybe there was never a father because there was never a mother - linda wake may have found a child on the lake shore and adopted it as her own, not knowing the truth behind its origins. maybe the torchbearers who operated in brightfalls around that time were involved. maybe the reason alan and tom look identical is the dark entity needed human dna when being reborn as a human and zane was there at the right time. could be why other traits are shared, and zane foresaw and influenced the creation of the dark place to get what he wanted (after all it was borrowing from him his face and personality - at very least it could give him wiggle room to escape?)

alan always had... issues. darkness. a lot for a man. so what if its all supernatural bullshit? no one is looking too closely because there is supernatural stuff going on. I'm not sure this man is human, or at least his soul isn't and never was. some darkness wearing a human skin maybe, sensitive to the light but forced to manage it. I don't know, maybe I'm looking too much into this.

#im sorry something is fucking up with how alan was born and i refuse it ignore it any longer #alan wake #alan wake 2 #remedy games #remedy connected universe #theories #aw theory

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years

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From Afar

TW: Dom!JJ. Smut. Public acts of sexuality. Language. Degrading Language. Cheating.

Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank.

SUMMARY: Your decision to entertain yourself at the expense of a pogue has unforeseen consequences.

WORD COUNT: 3000

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

From Afar

Halfway through the summer meant all of the best parties had come to pass and became memories of such reckless and immature highlights. Memories you may come to regret or cringe at when describing in reminiscence had been proof of your vitality. But for now, it just meant that you were unbelievably bored.

Picking at your nails had been the most productive trait you'd performed today. And with the heat blistering and a lack of motivation from an entitled lifestyle you had become entitled to as a birthright, you sought out entertainment in the most unethical, and immoral, of ways.

A way that came in the form of a six foot blonde surfer loitering outside his best friend's father's store with a puff of smoke omitting between a set of dangerous dimples. The same dimples you'd always noticed even when the words spoken between would be mindless and a reason to cringe or become upset as he often spoke against those you called friends. Those dimples were always a means of silent intrigue.

But as you looked at him from the passenger side car while in wait, you saw his eyes flick towards you. You tested the duration of his focus, almost as if to ensure he was worth the risk you were preparing to take. Once his eyes trained to you, almost as if to question if you were truly before him, you set two fingers into your puckered lips. The slow insertion was contrasted by the satisfying pop as you lowered your fingers into the bottoms of your bikini. His eyes widened as his jaw tensed at the sight.

Shameless.

His eyes followed the rise and twist of your wrist as you experimented to what angle could bring you to that edge fastest. But you were aware the only way to find that release would be a fondling of a secondary sensation. To this, your second hand rose to your breast, pulling down the fabric just enough to tease the breast he has been tempted with in the design of the suit already leaving such little to the imagination. Rather slowly, and with eyes set into his own, you pulled at the pebbled nub and released a silent moan that set him to shift in place.

You were always a luminescent yet untouchable object just out of reach. An ornament to some Kook as you accompanied them throughout the island. But at this moment, you were performing for him. Striking those unsavory chords with nothing more than your well versed fingers and a former layout of late night practices.

"JJ..." You mouthed his name as your body rose from the seat, chest heaving, and an expression compressed to fight the desperate whimpers you knew he would elicit from you. His reputation between your friends, and advisaries, validating this. Positions and sensations even those before him in their most valiant of attempts couldn't come close to. And he could do so without much effort. It was that effortlessness and danger you craved above all else. The unknown you wanted to uncover, even if you were the one bare for him now.

"Fuck..." He breathed to himself, a tightened jaw showcasing his dimples and bone structure as you looked at him from across the scene, forgetful of how risky this had been. But that high was near enough to accept such radicular beratement.

Heat pooling at the center of your suit, that release was on the other side of a handful of swipes. Thoughts of his skin rushing yours, his face contorting to his own pleasure, and the ultimate sound of your name as a whimper from his lips sent you riding into your hand as you shuddered midday in broad daylight with that well needed orgasm.

In the nick of time of your fingers leaving your jean shorts pulled apart when first witnessing JJ, the door to the hardware store came open to reveal your boyfriend. The very reason you could never act on your fantasies no matter the desire to do so. A constant desire it was, always just out of reach.

As the car passed the corner in which he stood, mouth hung open and eyes heavy with lust, the most victorious of smiles came over your expression as you left the moment of recklessness at your rearview.

But he would remember. Every detail of how you appeared to him. How you tormented him. And JJ Maybank was the type of guy to get even...

Hours passed as Topper's arm pulled from your shoulders to slink down onto Kelce's couch. He kept you close, a sign of possession worn on the heavy hand at a rest between your thighs, but he was too drunk to notice, or care, for how monotonous the night had become. The same conversations of them discussing surfing and college as you felt as more of an accompaniment than a partner. But you blamed it on your inability to find comfort at rest. Too lively to be content in one place for too long. A nomad at heart. Possibly born into a family on the wrong side of the island.

"Want a hit?" Rafe teased as you rejected his offer of the line drawn on the table. Making some comment about how you couldn't handle it anyway, you took it as a chance to leave as Topper was fading on the couch. Half drunk and half fatigued, you left him behind you.

Your cheeks blushed as you thought of your actions earlier that day as everything at this party reminded you of it. Any girl in matching jean shorts or any guy with blonde hair. Even the song playing as background noise had returned you to the bold moment you'd experienced without so much as his touch.

The heat between your thighs returned as you wondered if you could satisfy it without returning with a guilty expression. But ultimately, your duties as a girlfriend would come first as Topper swayed as he stood. It was enough to make you roll your eyes and regret coming with him.

Finishing the drink you'd made in the kitchen, you promised your mutual friends you would take him home when you came back from the restroom. Pushing through a selection of nameless guests, many of whom were friends of friends, you climbed the steps in a slow gait, no need to rush. But the second you broke from the stair and to the steady ground of the second floor, you were taken into a bedroom. The door closed behind you and a familiar scent of sea, marijuana, and salt exposing his identity.

"I don't like games, princess..."

"Who said I was playing anything?" You asked with a grin wide enough to be noted in the darkness.

"You couldn't afford to play with me..." You teased, the smirk heard in your words as you could feel his scoff, see his dimples, read the sin behind his eyes. The very sin you were responsible for not even a handful of hours prior.

"Who says I want to?"

"You're here..."

"Because I'm tired of you Kooks thinking you can do whatever you want without repercussions." Your lips parted in surprise.

"A big word for you, Maybank, gold star..."

"Think you're cute, huh? Think every guy is just dying to take you out? Buy you flowers?" He took a step closer, the extent of his body felt as he pinned you to the door at your back. The wood creaking as you turned to view it before turning back to him. But once you had, you were a centimeter from his face as the edge of his nose brushed yours.

"I don't want to date you. I don't want to be nice to you." He set his palms on the wall on either side of you.

"I want to fuck you."

"What's it like to want?"

"That's right..." He slowly nodded, "You don't, do you? Want a necklace or some bracelet and you scheme one of your monetary idiots to get it...daddy buys everything for you...right? Guys lining up from here to The Cut for a chance with you? Well...they must not be doing it right if you were touching yourself in broad daylight to get my attention..." His hand was on your hip, a thumb extended to your seam.

"So you have it...what are you gonna do with it?" He teased as your fingers rushed through his hair as you pulled him into you. The curiosity to know his kiss was no longer an unknown. His lips were softer in ambition and existence than you could have imagined, worsened by the smirk that crafted by your initiation.

"Who says I want it?" He appeared indifferent before those fingers brushed your clothed clit. A short skirt making this easy as your back arched from the wall.

"Every inch of you...Jesus, can Kooks do anything right?" His second hand came to your breast before you could defend the group in which you belonged. But trust funds and money could not teach them what experience he brought onto you. The perfect motions of his touch, tormenting you just enough to be unbearable and the occasional peace brought in the pleasure offered for only a moment.

"Apparently you didn't come hard enough earlier if you're still this wet...this desperate...So let me show you how to do it properly..." He set your own fingers to your sex , mimicking how his fingers danced just moments prior, but with the pads of your own touch.

"Maybe you don't have to risk touching yourself on my side of the island just to get my attention...." Your mouth pulled apart. "Maybe you can just get yourself ready for me..." His fingers suddenly withdrew as he had you nearly panting for him. His name, a near plea on your lips. Your body tremulous in the desperation of his touch.

"Let's see what sounds a princess makes when she makes herself come for a dirty pogue..." The way your fingers fisted his shirt widened his smirk as you pulled him harder into you. His scoff felt at your parted lips. You needed more. All of him. But as you ventured to capture a kiss, he retracted.

"You aren't in control here, sweetheart. You had your fun. Now it's my turn..." With your fingers still active between your lower lips, he pulled you to the bed you had forgotten was even present in the room. Yet, he wouldn't allow you the comfort of a rest. As you went to sit, he took hold of the back of your neck and pounded his fingers into you.

"You don't say a fucking word. Listen to how wet you are...listen to your body wanting me." He spoke against you, forehead at rest to yours that strained beneath him.

"Don't come-"

"JJ-" He scoffed.

"This isn't the part where you scream my name..." To this you were offered a few more pumps before being pushed to the bed.

"I want to watch closer." He explained, standing between your legs and unlatching his belt. His rings catching the light of the window as you craved the fingers against you. Inside of you. Pinning you. Anything! It was maddening.

"I want you..."

"Probably the first time in your life to want..." You gasped as he pulled you further to the bed, closer to him.

"You wanted to show me...so show me..." His voice was low. Guttural. Threatening even as you began to stroke yourself. Some forbidden chord set in a perfect rhythm as he lowered, sending your eyes to roll. But the lower his descension, the wider your legs would be pulled until your knees were against the bed.

"Faster-" He instructed, his mouth parting, nearly watering, as you toyed with yourself for him.

"I just showed you how...you can do better than that..." He patronized as you narrowed your eyes.

"JJ-"

"Just what would all your little friends say to you touching on yourself for a pogue? Hmm? Calling out his name?" His fingers swiped around you motions. "Dripping for me?" His mouth parted as he licked his lips.

"And Jesus, you are dripping…fuck…"

"I don't care.."

"No? So you don't care if they hear you?"

"No!"

"Don't. Come."

"JJ!"

"Faster." He forced your hand to make the speed you hesitated to. At the moment as your body became lost to the sensations, he retreated.

"Well I don't want anyone to hear you. Can't ruin my reputation thinking I want some bratty little Kook."

You were breathless. Winded. Even more desperate for him that you were in the car-even ten seconds prior.

"JJ..."

"For the first time in your life, you're going to do it yourself. You want it...take it..." He motioned down to his pants. You moved from your elbows and closer to him.

"Go on..." He continued as your eyes flashed to him. But as your gaze fell to take in his anatomy as it was pulled by your activation, he pulled your hair slowly.

"Keep your eyes on me..." You didn't fight him as you only lowered to your knees and pulled his shorts to his ankles. An intimidating yet aesthetically pleasing cock teasing your kiss. A teasing peck set on the edge as he breathed a simple deep exhale.

"Don't act all sweet. You wanted to be a whore, so take me in the back of your throat like one-" He gasped with the depth in which you took him. The same depth you kept and released as he bent over you and grilled onto the bed.

"Fuck!"

It was the only utterance he was able to make. Your name sounded too innocent and God himself shied away as he called on his wavering faith. You were his anchor, his pain, his pleasure, and at this moment, his vice. Your hand twisted from base to tip as you broke for breath.

"Enough..." He winced weakly, hoping you'd be more desperate than him. But your suction and hollowed cheeks, the vibration from your moaning, all of this became too much too quickly. He was spilling into you despite his best efforts, forcing him to pull you on conviction. You were allowed even a breath before being turned on the bed.

"My way, princess...like the whore you are..." He smacked your ass, making you gasp, before he arranged himself with a condom. You looked back in the nick of time to watch him align his cock with you and slip in effortlessly, you holding him like a vice once he bottomed out.

"Goddamnit-" he grunted.

"I know you aren't a virgin, but you're too fucking tight to be the whore I thought you were...maybe you just need the right dick, right?" You bit your lip.

Plowing into you, you were unhinged before him, a vessel as your release was on the other side of his mercy.

"JJ!" You shrieked as he swipes your ass again.

"Look at me...Watch me fuck you..."

"I can't..." You explained as he pulled you at an angle in which your leg would come to rest at his shoulder.

"No more fucking excuses." He spat, eyes wide for a moment as his lips parted in pain of a rush of stimulation. Too much pleasure. Too much of you.

"You like that?"

"Yes...." You groaned.

"Tell me it feels good..."

"It..." He took his hand around your breast, a pinch made to your nipples as you trembled. Your legs taking on a life of their own as they were kept locked by his motions.

"You like being fucked like this, don't you sweetheart…can't even tell me how good it is…" Not a nerve untouched as your eyes pryed open to take in the way he responded to you. The look across his expression, the sweat gathering at his naked chest, you could recall had been made bare, and the animalistic groans and grunts acted accordingly to the rise of your release. That close release, too deep and too favored to be truly appreciated.

"Tell me..." He almost begged, a wince of unbearable pleasure making his cadence alter as he bent your leg to your chest as he pulled over you. His grip eating into the sheets beside you for stability as he rooted into you. Your cervix teased and tested as he pounded ok repetition. Pain quickly eased by pleasure as you moaned in accordance to him.

"JJ!"

"Fucking tell me how good I feel or you-"

"You feel so good!"

"Better than him?"

"Fuck, yes!"

"Beg me to let you come. Tell me you want me to make you come..." He spoke through accelerated thrusts. Your body gliding easily beneath his as you continued.

"Make me come."

"I said beg. You demand enough."

"Please!" With a recline of corrected posture he spit on your clit unnecessary for anything aside from the aesthetic of eroticism between you, before rubbing vicious circles. Your body rose from itself. Ethereal life and deaths at war to claim you first until pleasure won overall. Your body in tremors your eyes pulled into a roll, and your voice silent following that whimper of release. You looked over him, a gush granting his final thrusts at ease as he tightened and relinquished himself in that final flex before kissing you.

"You pull another stunt like that in public sweetheart, and THAT happens on the hood of whatever car whose seat you're leaving wet." He retracted from you.

"No matter whose car it is."

"JJ..."

"Until you can learn to keep these dry, I'll take em for ya..." He stole your panties from the floor before setting his shirt over his damp skin.

"See ya 'round, princess."

If you could have walked, you would have followed him far enough into the hall to berate him. If anything, to demand he return your underwear. But a part of you liked the fact he had a piece of you.

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916 @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

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kiwisa · 2 years

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serenade ✩ cl16

Charles Leclerc x Fem! Famous! Singer! Reader

fluff • 1,500 words • sequel to sweet melody

IN WHICH... a song is better than a thousand words.

The metronome that had been counting the rhythm in your earpiece ⏤ disturbing you, if anything else ⏤ finally ceased as the last notes of your song faded away in a transition which you did not notice, too busy catching your breath. The spotlight faded for a few moments, giving you just enough time to take three big gulps of water, which dripped down your lips to your throat and cleavage, already wet with perspiration.

It was hot on stage. Too hot, you thought, wiping your forehead with a brush of your forearm. The spotlights would turn an autumn evening into a summer afternoon by the sheer force of their light, almost as if the sun itself were trapped in those damned bulbs. The heat did nothing to ease the heaviness of your limbs, exhausted by two intense hours of dancing, singing, sometimes both at the same time. Your legs, arms, and back were aching terribly, but you showed nothing. Why complain about a career you had chosen? As they said, the show must go on.

The cheerful shouts of the crowd gradually brought you out of your trance, though your chest continued to heave rapidly as the spotlights dazzled you. You squinted for a moment, getting used to the artificial daylight again, punctuated by a pixelated starry sky woven by the phones’ flashes.

“Usually, this is the point in the show where I announce that this was the last song…”

You laughed at the reaction of the fans, who were quick to boo you when they realized the enchanted interlude that was this concert was coming to an end. The worries of everyday life, left at the entrance of the stadium, were only waiting for the last note to come back and slump on everyone's shoulders, yours included.

“… But today, because we are in Nice, and because this city is special to me, I have decided to sing a song for you that is just as special. This may be the only time you hear it, so enjoy.”

An assistant brought an acoustic guitar and a stool. No one could see your fingers shaking as you adjusted the microphone stand, anxious at the mere thought of making a false note, of ruining what was supposed to be perfect. Hours and hours of secret rehearsals had brought you to this moment. You would not fuck up something so important to you, to him, was going to fall flat.

“Hm. So… Yeah, this is dedicated to a special someone in the crowd.”

It was hard, but you managed not to turn your head towards the VIP section of the pit, isolated at the front, and far more visible than anything else in the Stade Allianz Riviera. The phones were focused on you, on your every move, reminding you that every second of the concert would be analysed and posted on Twitter within the hour, before being relayed hundreds of thousands of times. That was precisely why, tonight, the music would speak for you, and the notes would replace the words you were not allowed to chant out loud.

Unveiling without saying too much.

Private but not secret.

In your earpiece, the metronome resumed its rhythm, but this time you welcomed it. Like Odysseus and the sirens, the first notes of the song blurred your senses and plunged you into a melodic trance in which only a silhouette stood out. The first words were shakily sung, and you immediately cursed your stress, or perhaps your stupid heart, which was beating furiously in your chest, catching up with the heady metronome. A new rhythm that had begun tuning with another.

Young love was beautiful, so beautiful it inspired poetry.

You were no Hugo, nor Lamartine, nor even a Shakespeare. In your verses, no iambic pentameters, no embracing rhymes; simply the raw evidence of blossoming love, even as the leaves of the trees gradually turned orange.

As the first words rang out, you thought back to that damn crossed-out page, its words never suitable enough to explain the unexplainable. How to describe love? Some had succeeded, with rough metaphors, comparisons to nature, to art. You, faced with the white sheet of paper, with the image of two large green eyes in your mind, found yourself speechless, wordless, unable to put into phrases the love you felt for Charles.

“Love,” a word you had not yet uttered. Too soon to do so, some said. You simply thought that “I love you” was not strong enough.

Your head swayed gently to the rhythm of the strings strummed by your ⏤ still shaky ⏤ fingers, eyebrows furrowed. The low, slow, melodious sound echoed through the speakers and into the hearts of the entire crowd. You just hoped it would touch his.

In the middle of this shapeless mass of people, you could only see him, dazzling in his white shirt. The spotlight didn't allow you to see the expression painted on his face, but nights spent admiring him allowed you to imagine it without any problem: his ears flushed, his mouth folded inwards to avoid seeing them tremble, his fingers playing with his ring…

He'd been to all concerts since the beginning of your relationship ⏤ a few weeks before ⏤ following you to Los Angeles for a festival, to Italy for a concert, without ever hesitating once. Here in Nice ⏤ so close to Monaco ⏤ everything was special. His presence tasted of home.

In the middle of thousands of people, he was the only soul that mattered.

Tears ⏤ an overflow of love at his sight ⏤ rose and rolled down your cheeks one by one. He was your most beautiful verse, your most beautiful arpeggio, the last sound added to the harmony that made up your life.

On this stage, the melody of love resounded, until the last chorus:

Qu’est-ce que j’irais faire au paradis Quand tu t’endors près de moi? Qu’ils le donnent à d’autres, le paradis Je n’en voudrais pas*

Déjà vu: the metronome stopped, the lights went out, the water was thirstily gulped. This time, however, nothing was turned back on. Applause and shouts rang out, making the floor tremble, or perhaps it was your legs, both tired and relieved.

An assistant guided you backstage. The microphone was taken away, the earpiece as well. A towel was passed around to dry your forehead, back, and thighs. Your heart was beating hard, so hard that you thought it was trying to escape from your rib cage and lodge itself in your temples.

It was finally over. You had done it. You had sung his song.

Five people tried to talk to you, debrief the concert, make changes, but you didn't care, your attention no longer on them since he had entered the room.

A hazel spot in the middle of the black-dressed staff. His eyes were red, as was the tip of his nose. Furrows of tears marked his cheeks but contrasted with the blinding smile he gave you. Your heart skipped a beat, the mere sight of his figure triggering a wave of affection.

You immediately threw yourself into his arms, breathing in his Dior perfume, his musky scent, the aroma of tobacco: a smell that was so unapologetically him.

“Did you like the song?” you asked with a small voice, your head buried in his chest.

He pressed his hand against your head, pulling you even closer to him, as if he wanted your two bodies to become one. His lips pressed against your forehead, and did not let go, even when he spoke: “I adored it, mon ange.”

The tremolo of his voice spoke for him, his wet tone doing nothing to hide his emotion. Charles spoke little, chose his words carefully, did not waste them on wordy periphrases. Thus, he did not exclaim, did not dwell on explanations that would spoil the intimate atmosphere. He merely whispered these simple words with all the tenderness in the world, filling your heart, which was already on the verge of giving out from all the attention you were getting from him.

“Je t'aime.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his three little words, whispered as if they were second-nature to him. His chest vibrated with his laughter, purely in adoration of your reaction, before he took your face in his hands to kiss you tenderly. More tears joined the first you had shed on stage, but you ignored them, content, in love.

“Je t'aime aussi.”

He swayed both your bodies gently, never loosening his embrace, never taking his lips off your skin. Around you, the staff was already packing up to make room for the next day's performer, but you did not care. In the frenzied tempo of life, your sweet melody played off-beat.

FOOTNOTES !

*Chorus from Paradis, Orelsan.

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x you #formula 1 fic #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #formula one fic #formula 1 rpf #formula 1 imagine

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valentine-cafe · 10 days

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. ˚◞♡ 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓◞ ₊˚

. ˚◞ ꒰ verse 9948e meng yao ꒱ grim reaper x reader ⊹ ۪ ࣪

you comfort your girlfriend through her hardships with motherhood

the soft sweep of the wind touches the grass outside. the green straws that shine in the lantern light of the gardens dancing merrily between one another. while you finish your cup of tea.

with a content sigh, you lean back.

a day of duty finished. a night of relaxation and rest dancing around you. while the celestial body high up in the sky shines down at you with silver light.

“i do feel your presence, mrs. yuè. there is no need for such silence.” you chuckle, paying note to the woman standing behind you. leaning into the arch of the doorway.

bare feet curl together with anxiety. the notion of one being caught when they do not wish to. the lady of the sanctuary resonated to such heavily, despite her cheery attitude during daylight hours.

to her, the garden she steps out into, that she has raised and watered for centuries now. seems as though it crackles up and dies a bit more as days pass.

roses burn when she touches them. as intensely as the one within her heart.

“I did not wish to disrupt the peace, my dear. i thought. . .” with the trailing off of words. a brow curls softly, and you turn to look back at your lady.

“madame?” you murmur with concern. “what ails you?”

“i thought, perhaps if i stood in your presence, i’d feel such peace too.” her sigh is heavy, just as the pair if oake feet that drag towards you. a deep-purple hanfu interrupts the sight to the garden, as the tall woman moves to stand before you leaning down and looking into your eyes with her dioxazine ones.

tired, with large droplets of tears at the bottom of them spilling out.

“my lady—” you call out softly and reach out for her to pull her in for a close hug. she simply collapses into you, inhaling quietly. yet the sharpness of it does not escape the atmosphere of the garden. cutting the warmth of this late summer’s night and turning it colder than you’ve felt in a while.

“I fear.” she rasps into your shoulder, gripping onto you for dear life.

“fear what my lady?” you coo at her soothingly. running gentle circles around her back with the palm of your hand, while the other rests on the crown of her head and brushes her hair with care.

and oh the night goes quiet all the more than it had before.

for what does the lady of the yuè sanctuary truly fear? well. . .

the loss of her kids. distancing, death, disagreements. her heart has seen and had enough of it already with the loss of her son. the busy life of her youngest, her disagreements with her 4th oldest.

the riots in the streets. wondering if all will come home at the end of the day. humanity. she’d never admit to it out loud. but a fear stirs, rises ever so slowly within her. slithering up through her gut and to her brain.

humankind, the same beings she was once so fascinated with. she had grown to mistrust as years passed by. only recently had the yuè sanctuary recovered from ugly graffiti and people massacering a few barrels of harvested food for reapers to eat as they came to rest.

all by younger humans who knew no better in her eyes. their actions taught to them by their elders. who had been taught by their elders. a generational hate, for beings like them and many other.

you snap her out of the thoughts. the thoughts that makes everything around her dim, the ones that snap her into paranoia when she travels out into the world. what if she doesn’t get to return to her children—

“madame yuè.” you call, this time a little louder, while giving her a gentle shake on her shoulder.

“madame yuè, please breathe.” with a flutter of lashes and a simple wipe of a sleeve against teary eyes, you watch as she inhales deeply and exhales. frown tugging at her lips, while a pair of dioxazine hues find roses to gaze at.

“you don’t have to tell me, i believe i know already. but when you are ready, please speak. stay with me.” you coo out softly. handing her a cup of tea after pouring water into the delicate porcelain cup.

“just stay here with me.” you hum.

“the roses are burning.” she mutters with a evident sob wishing to break free from the place it has been trapped in inside of her throat.

“i know. that is why we feel, my dear.” you whisper in response, giving her a soft smile. thumb stroking along the swell of a sharp cheekbone gently. “don’t pack little pistols my lady. you deserve nothing but passion and freedom.”

with a soft sigh, and the closing of eyes. mèng yáo leans into your lap, and drapes her long sleeves across your waist. spilling tears willingly onto the fabric of your robes, while crying quietly, nodding in nothing but agreement at the truth of your words.

#⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ loveletters — meng yao 9948e ꒱#monster fucker #monster girl #monster girlfriend #terato #teratophillia #monster x reader #x reader #reader insert #female reader #meng yao 9948e #asterism

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untitled5071 · 7 months

Note

I have a Lisa Frankenstein request! If you'd rather not, thats totally okay, but I'd love a modern au of them going to a my chemical romance concert. ^^ it's for me and for one of my friends too, and it would really mean a lot to us! Thank you so much for doing what you do!

I hope you like it!

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Oh my god oh my god, I think this is it!”

Even though Lisa’s eyes were trained on the stage in front of her, her arms were busy shaking the daylights out of her husband, her hands on his shoulders while he chuckled adoringly at her enthusiasm. He wasn’t doing too good of a job at hiding his own, either; this concert may have been a gift for Lisa while they ‘traveled’ through Mexico as part of their “don’t get caught by the police” world tour, but he was excited too.

They hadn’t been to a concert in a long time; after Lisa was reanimated and recovered, the two of them had gotten as far away from Brookside as they could potentially get, and once the dust settled, they decided to do a little traveling to see what the modern world could offer them. They had no end of potential date ideas, but they both particularly liked live music.

Though their favorite of all time would always be the private one given in the living room of Lisa’s old home, they both enjoyed being among other music lovers and shouting lyrics like maniacs. Granted, he knew he wouldn’t be doing much shouting tonight in the sea of people they found themselves in-both because he knew he wouldn’t be heard and because shouting just wasn’t in the cards tonight, but it was all worth it for the sake of seeing Lisa so happy.

Speaking of Lisa, her declaration that the show was starting seemed to be right on the money, since the lights were starting to dim, the anticipatory roar of the crowd was starting to get louder and cell phone flashlights were starting to flick on like illuminated eyes across the arena. The creature divided his attention between Lisa and the stage as the sound of a heart monitor was projected over the screams of the fans, and she grabbed his stitched-on hand in a vice grip when a gurney containing a covered body was rolled onstage.

Lisa’s cheers joined that of the rest of the crowd when the body revealed itself to be the lead singer, clad in a hospital gown over his signature dark outfit and clutching a microphone. The first song was ironically called “The End”, and as the creature expected, Lisa sang every word at the top of her lungs, teased hair flying in every direction as she bounced along to the beat.

He knew buying her that second hand iPod Nano last year was a good idea.

The first verse ended with Gerard Way ripping off his hospital gown as the biggest curtain they had ever seen opened to reveal the rest of the band, already whaling away on their respective instruments. They all wore black outfits and parade marshal’s jackets (which seemed fitting), and they weren’t the only ones who had dressed the part.

Lisa had spent hours trying to pick the perfect combination of tights and tops for this concert (all black, of course), and had finally settled on black fishnet tights that she had torn and woven back together herself with more colorful embroidery thread (sticking heavily to purple and green to match her husband’s stitched limbs), a black tulle miniskirt and a black sports bra under a mesh top, complete with black and dark-gray striped arm warmers, to match the fashion of the time. He himself was wearing a leather jacket over a deep red shirt, and his best ripped jeans that Lisa distressed for him, in more ways than one. They blended in perfectly with the ocean of punks around them, and that was just fine by them.

The band cycled through their set with infectious energy and an electric stage presence, and the creature was surprised that the stadium they were in didn’t collapse under the weight of the stomping and jumping the audience was doing. He was particularly fascinated by the mosh pit that had formed towards the font; it was mesmerizing to see all of those bodies moving in such a disjointed but synchronized way that anyone could immediately understand was dangerous if not done properly. He had to respect it, honestly.

The biggest problem with it, on the other hand, was that it was blocking their view of the stage, and by the time the band’s most popular started (signaled by a single note that was almost drowned out by the crowd), the frenzied movements of the people closer to the stage got more intense, as did the noise level.

Lisa was staining herself on her tiptoes to see over the screaming heads in front of them, and when her husband noticed this, he put a hand on her shoulder gently, shuffling in the limited space that they had so that his back was to her, and squatted down slightly. Lisa got the hint immediately and hopped onto his back, and he hoisted her up so she could see over the several hundred flip phones being used to record the show and get a better view of the stage. She was delighted by this plan, holding onto him with her thighs and one hand while waving her other hand in the air, mirroring Gerard on stage. And even though her voice was meshing with thousands of others, even that of the actual lead singer, the creature thought her voice was the clearest and most beautiful of them all.

She must have been able to feel his adoring gaze somehow, because as the song ended in a shower of confetti and pyrotechnics, she bent down and kissed his right cheek first, then his left, whispering (or, given the noisy circumstance) said in a normal speaking voice,

“Thank you. I love you so much.”

And though he was particularly tongue-tied that evening and unable to speak the words back, he hoped that the kiss he gave her amidst the crowd’s raucous applause spoke his feelings adequately.

They stayed that way as the concert continued, the creature keeping Lisa safe in the arms collapsed around where she was perched on his back and Lisa sneaking little kisses or playing with his hair in between songs, and as the band played one of their slower pieces, the two undead souls swayed together, united in their love of music and each other.

These are the eyes and the lies of the taken

These are their hearts but their hearts don't beat like ours

They burn 'cause they are all afraid

When mine beats twice as hard

'Cause the world is ugly

But you're beautiful to me

#lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein fanfiction #lisa frankenstein 2024 #lisa swallows #the creature #my chemical romance

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heyitsmirae · 10 months

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Nanami, it’s time [JJK fanfic]

Chapter Title: Time to go Word Count: 1,960 Synopsis: We all know that moment when Kento Nanami gets torched by Jogo, and you know what comes next… well I know we all want to turn back time and undo that moment. This is a retelling of that part in the story, with something different added to it. Nanami has a wife (you!) who is also a Jujutsu Sorcerer with a unique power, and they both want out of the Jujutsu Society forever. Pairing: Kento Nanami x Reader Content Warning: none YET, but in the succeeding chapters, there WILL be smut, I’m warning you all because I’m writing this while I’m ovulating lol horny JJK fans unite Notes: I had help from ChatGPT to generate a unique JJK-verse Cursed Technique without it being too OP or copying from an existing character, so thank you chatgpt lol, see the end part for a detailed explanation of the technique

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

NANAMI’S POV

A minute ago, I, Naobito Zenin, Megumi Fushiguro, and Maki Zenin were all standing on a beach, the domain of the Cursed Spirit Dagon, watching the new arrival of a strong, frenzied man who had zero Cursed Energy, who was beating the daylights out of the domain owner.

The next thing I knew, we were back in the station at Shibuya, staring at the lifeless body of the octopus creature whose domain obviously crumbled upon his death at the hand of the man in the sweatshirt.

The same man who is now walking towards us with a glint of madness in his eye.

“Is he on our side...?” I thought, mentally preparing myself to battle this man in case he wasn’t.

Suddenly, two things simultaneously happened.

The man wearing a sweatshirt suddenly dragged Fushiguro-kun and flung him out the window, and another Cursed Spirit with an insane amount of Cursed Energy appeared without warning next to the corpse of Dagon.

He looked odd, almost comical, with the shape of his head looking like a volcano, complete with the top billowing off small amounts of steam. But we all knew he was dangerous.

“Dagon, I’ll take it from here. Leave the rest to me, we’ll meet again in the wastelands, one hundred years from now. Now then…” the Cursed Spirit said, turning to face all of us.

In a split second, he was by my side, touching my abdomen and glaring at me.

I barely had time to register what was happening when suddenly, I felt the familiar presence of a Cursed Energy, one whose presence I had not wanted to be in this place at all, not especially in this moment.

Time seemed to slow down as I saw my wife running towards me, worry evident in her light brown eyes.

“Y/N, my love, why are you here? Weren’t you supposed to be in Osaka? It’s dangerous here!” is what I willed my mouth to speak, but the words aren’t coming out.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. My mind can’t process it that quickly, but somewhere, somehow, I knew this was the power of her Cursed Technique, Chrono-Warping.

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READER’S POV

I read and reread Principal Yaga’s text message to me, sent about an hour ago.

Y/N, you should come to Shibuya as soon as you can. It seems we will need all hands on deck to handle the Special Grade curses wreaking havoc. You may join your husband in the rescue mission to retrieve Gojo, who was sealed in Prison Realm. Resume your current mission once this crisis is averted.

I willed the bullet train to go even faster, bouncing my knee up and down in a nervous tic as I run a hand through my hair.

“Knowing Kento, he’ll probably do his best to protect the students and his kohai, Ino. He might even get hurt from that chivalrous attitude of his.” I muttered under my breath.

Which is one of the things I love and hate about Kento Nanami.

It’s not that I don’t trust his abilities to get him through the battle at Shibuya. It’s that I know how overprotective he is of the younger Jujutsu Sorcerers (and of me), he’ll always go above and beyond to protect them at the risk of his own life.

The next stop, Shibuya.

“Fucking finally. I’m gonna age from waiting in this damn train.” I said, apparently rather loudly, since the couple seated in front of me turned to look at me with their eyebrows raised.

“Eh, who cares what they think. I’m used to the stares and the discrimination.” I thought.

I was a foreigner, half Japanese, half (your nationality), in fact. Despite my living here for almost three decades and speaking Japanese with a perfect accent, my features will never be Japanese enough for me to be treated the same as the “locals”.

It was one of the things that brought me closer to my husband, in fact. Standing 6 feet tall and with obvious Western features, he certainly stood out in the crowd. The locals here do not like individuals who stand out, so we both experienced discrimination of sorts, even within the Jujutsu society.

While I wait for the train to arrive at the station, I let my mind wander at a conversation Kento and I had before we were married.

“How does it not bother you, Kento. That old man was just downright rude to you!”

“I remind myself that they do not personally know me and that anything they say or do to me is based on a prejudice they have preconceived in their minds. Since they do not know the real me, nor do they have any special meaning to me, I do not let their words and actions affect me. It’s a waste of time.”

That man is wise beyond his years. His words back then struck a chord in me, as someone who’s always let other people dictate my mood and let their words affect me. I’ve always been like a sponge that just absorbs all the positive and negative things around me. Kento has taught me so much, both as a jujutsu sorcerer and as a person.

Due to an unexpected issue at our next station, the train will now be stopping. All passengers are requested to leave the wagon with their personal belongings and follow the station superintendent, who will guide you to the nearest emergency exit. I repeat… due to…

This is bad, bad enough that the Shibuya station is closed.

Once the train doors were opened, I jumped out and ran as fast as I could, ignoring the gasps of the people as they saw me jump down and run onto the train tracks.

“Please be safe, please be safe, oh gods please be safe.” I said as I ran, clinging onto these words like a lifeline.

I sensed so many powerful Cursed Spirits and Cursed Energy in the station ahead. Willing myself to concentrate on the one Cursed Energy that I’m very much familiar with, I stopped running and closed my eyes.

There he is! A few hundred meters below me.

I hurried towards the emergency escape ladder and onto the B2 level of the train station platform. Then I saw them. The Cursed Spirit standing over the body of another Cursed Spirit, my husband, Naobito-san, and two Jujutsu High students.

“Chrono-Warping Technique: Temporal Manipulation!”

Time slowed for everyone else, except for me. I only have a few minutes until my body gets taxed from using this technique, or until I accidentally create a time loop, so I have to make good use of it.

The volcano head Cursed Spirit moved too fast; in fact, it was already in front of my husband by the time I got there. I’m not a Cursed Tool user, so I don’t have any weapons, but I think my hands are enough.

I grabbed the volcano head spirit and flung him together with that man who was holding onto one of the students by the collar.

Quickly switching their positions, I half carry, half dragged back the kid to the position where the Cursed Spirit was, and snapped my fingers to let the regular flow of time back.

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NANAMI’S POV

Blinking, I stared down at Megumi Fushiguro in confusion, who was looking just as confused as I was.

“Nanami-san…?” Megumi asked dazedly.

“Kento!”

Her voice is like breathing in fresh air after staying in the sewers for a long time, or like seeing the ocean stretch endlessly over the horizon at dawn after a long year without vacation.

She was a force of nature, this woman. My radiant sanctuary that keeps me anchored, a beacon of love and resilience in this unforgiving world of curses, her presence a soothing balm to my battle-weary soul.

“My love, what are you doing here? Weren’t you – ” I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence as I rest my cheek on her head, breathing in her scent and wrapping my arms around her body.

“Principal Yaga briefed me on what was going on here. He said all hands on deck were needed. Of course I had to come here, love.” she murmured. Her hands were patting my back gently, but then she broke off the hug to look at me sternly.

“Look at you, your favorite shirt was ripped. These cuts, I can’t…” She reached for her pocket and brought out a small handkerchief, wiping the cut on my forehead as her brow wrinkled into a frown.

“It’s nothing, look, love, we all aren’t safe here yet.” I said, trying to appease her worry by making light of my current physical state.

A loud AHEM startles us both.

“Yes, ahem, well, if you both are quite finished being lovey-dovey, I should very much like to leave this station and get my arm treated by Dr. Shoko.” Naobito said gruffly.

We turned to look at the others, who were all averting their gazes from us, looking shy and embarrassed to witness our moment.

I cleared my throat as well, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks as my wife gently tended to my injuries, ignoring everyone else stoically.

“We won’t do much good to anyone, much less rescue Gojo and all the non-sorcerers here in Shibuya, if we’re injured. Let’s go find Ieri-san and get treatment for our wounds.” I said in a deadpan tone.

I could feel a different energy radiate from my wife, and I felt a sweat drop from my brow.

“Is she mad that I got this much injured? Is she scared? What is it?”

No matter how many years we’ve been married, I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand how my wife’s mind works.

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Chrono-Warping

A rare and balanced ability known as "Chrono-Warping" surfaces. This power enables its possessor to manipulate the flow of time in localized pockets, introducing a unique set of advantages and challenges.

Key Features:

Temporal Manipulation: The user can temporarily accelerate or decelerate time within a specific area. This can be employed defensively to evade attacks, strategically to gain an advantage in combat, or to provide brief moments of respite amid chaotic battles.

Time Echo: The ability to create echoes of the immediate past or future within the user's perception. These echoes offer glimpses of upcoming events or recent occurrences, granting the user enhanced foresight and the ability to react more effectively.

Temporal Distortion Fields: By creating localized distortion fields, the user can disrupt the normal flow of time for themselves or others. This may result in altered perceptions, making it challenging for opponents to predict the user's movements or react appropriately.

Chrono-Infusion: The user can infuse their cursed techniques or physical strikes with controlled bursts of temporal energy. This adds an element of unpredictability and surprise to their attacks, as opponents struggle to anticipate the timing and impact of each strike.

Limitations:

Temporal Strain: Manipulating time is mentally and physically taxing. Prolonged or frequent use of Chrono-Warping can lead to fatigue, disorientation, or even unintended consequences such as momentary time loops.

Temporal Anchoring: The user cannot manipulate time on a large scale, and the effects are limited to specific areas or targets. Attempting to alter significant events or manipulate time across vast distances is beyond the scope of this power.

Vulnerability During Temporal Manipulation: While manipulating time, the user is vulnerable to attacks. Distorting the temporal field requires focus, and disruptions can leave the user momentarily defenseless.

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Hope you like this first chapter! Not much fun but I personally had fun retelling this part of the Shibuya Incident. Stay tuned for more!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami fluff #nanami fanfiction #nanami kento #jjk fanfiction #jjk fluff #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami fiction #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen nanami kento #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #fanfiction

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lilac-hecox · 1 month

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i'd love to request a little pastor ian. literally anything, you could describe him just breathing, i don't care, just any pastor ian! thank you so much <3

Pastor!Ian/Demon!Anthony - Holy War - Ianthony

It was strange to touch each other without one of them dying, but maybe touch was also something for the living.

Ian remembers a time when ignorance was truly bliss. It was when he first joined the church, attending his classes, working towards priesthood. It was before he knew of things bigger than himself and all he had to do was believe in God, and believe in what was right, and holy, and that through the Lord all things were possible.

He was a sheep happy to graze in the grass those days.

It was before he knew of a war raging between heaven and hell itself. It was before he was caught squarely in the cross-fire of that war.

Anthony, Ian’s best friend, was always attuned to the world in a frequency that Ian was not. He thought deeper, believed in things, he was open to new ideas. He was curious. He was anything but ignorant and blissful to the world around them.

Ian can’t quite remember how it happened, but somehow Anthony had stumbled into the weavings of darkness. That evil, born of hell, had etched itself across his skin in dark marks that led like road maps across the surface of Anthony’s flesh.

It happened in quiet places. In the dark places where Ian did not allow himself to truly see or know. Where he did not dare to follow Anthony. By the time he knew. By the time any of them realized what had happened. Anthony was no longer just Anthony.

He had something evil inside of him, something festering and hungry, and out for destruction. His eyes a glossy, milky white, as he screamed into the night, those road maps of darkness alight with an unholy magic.

Really, all along, Ian and Anthony were pawns in a game bigger than either one of them, but set on opposite sides. Anthony, swallowed by a darkness that overcame him. Ian believed in a righteousness that felt like his only hope and Anthony’s only salvation.

Ian can’t remember exactly when or how they died. He just knows they died together. For most of his life, it felt like he and Anthony came into existence at the same moment, hard to remember a time before one was at the other’s side. Upon dying, it was much the same, born to know each other, destined to die together.

The top of a hill, overlooking the village they had grown up in, the church in which Ian took his vows to the Lord, a mutual destruction took place.

Ian remembers heat and pain and he remembers falling to his knees in the grass, clutching at Anthony’s shoulders, his touch burning the inches of Anthony’s demonized skin. When Anthony fell, it was next to him, the space between their hands thinner than a blade of the grass on the hill of their childhood home where Ian laid bleeding out.

With his last ounce of strength Ian had clutched Anthony’s hand, the dark, inky symbol of an all-seeing eye, burning, disintegrating to give way to the tanned flesh Ian always knew. He held fast to Anthony as his eyes slipped closed, because he had a feeling even death could not split them apart if they truly tried to stay together.

The thing about a holy war of good versus evil. It’s hard to ever really stay dead. It’s hard to say where Ian was in the in-between, but he felt warm there, and comfortable, and he knows that Anthony was there too.

Then, they are resurrected, like the verses in old scriptures Ian had studied. One day he is awake on the same hill, in the daylight, no mortal wound spread across the expanse of his chest. Anthony is there too, the markings on his skin still etched, but faded, no longer raised and angry, like veins across his skin.

The palm of his hand, the one Ian had held as he died, is perfectly blank.

It was strange to touch each other without one of them dying, but maybe touch was also something for the living.

Ian tested that theory by planting a hand in the soft springy grass where their blood once mingled together and painted the ground. He feels the warm breeze of the day, and in the distance he hears birds calling, he hears children playing.

Ian leans in and he cups Anthony’s face, and he surrenders to the knowledge of the world, and what it can be like, and feel like, and what it felt like to live and die at Anthony’s side. He clings and he kisses Anthony until their lips are numb, until they have to part to suck in deep and renewing lungfuls of air.

Maybe their resurrection was a gift from something that took pity on them. Maybe a reversal of the damages done to war. Maybe Ian’s side won. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. Content to live in that peaceful bliss if he gets to have Anthony with him.

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stray-kaz · 1 year

Text

Unmasked : a Kaz Brekker x f!reader Magpie verse

Summary: Kaz finds out just what the Magpie, his Magpie, has been hiding from him. A secret even Inej didn’t know. Who are you, really?

Some time later

There was a crowd gathered outside the Temple of Ghezen, the steps packed from end to end with onlookers. Kaz moved steadily through it, audience members parting for him without stopping to look at him, dressed as he was as yet another temple guard. Twenty feet away from him, moving at the same pace, was Inej. He knew that somewhere to his right, Jesper would also be wading his way to the steps, deft fingers picking pockets as he went. They weren’t just trigger fingers, after all.

At the top of the steps was a blank podium, and standing behind it was one of Ketterdam’s wealthiest merchers, and an honorary member of the Stadwatch. If Kaz could get to him, he could lift that brilliant gold and diamond pocket watch that dangled from the man’s chest pocket. But then someone else caught his eye as movement flashed from behind the mercher and a young woman in a pale pink gown stepped into view, bodice fitted snugly to her chest and her hair pulled up high behind her head. She was beautiful. Kaz knew her.

Inej sensed the lack of movement and slid her gaze sideways to track Kaz in the crowd. He wasn’t moving at all, and from the angle of his stare, she could tell he was watching the podium. And from the dead eye mask his face had become, she knew something was very, very wrong. So instead of carrying on her job, she began to push through the crowd to get to him.

“Kaz!” she shouted, and pushed briefly at his shoulder.

He jumped the slightest bit and turned his head to stare at her, blue irises stretched wide around ink dark pupils. Inej stopped and blinked at him, suddenly dry mouthed and afraid. Kaz didn’t look like this when he was scared, other people did.

“What is it?” she demanded, pulse bounding.

Kaz jerked his head abruptly towards the podium and Inej followed his line of sight to the girl in the pink dress standing primly beside the mercher, her father. There was something about her that felt familiar, the proud set to her shoulders and the angle of her jaw.

The dainty ruby necklace wrapped around her neck and disappearing into her cleavage.

“Didn’t Mags take that for you, but you gave it back?” Inej whispered, too stunned to speak up.

Kaz nodded stiffly, his neck feeling as if it might snap.

“Yes” he uttered, the single word clipped and short.

Inej inhaled quickly.

“Is that...?” she trailed off, eyeing Kaz.

“Yes. I would know her in the dark, but in the daylight she is unmistakable.”

Inej bit her lip, still staring at him. By then, Jesper had found them and was following their gazes to the gowned figure far away. He raised an eyebrow.

“Is that our little thief?” he asked, glancing at Kaz.

Inej shook her head warningly at him, but he missed it.

“Did you know she was a mercher’s kid?”

The question was directed at Kaz, but he only shook his head and turned to look back at Inej with raised eyebrows. She held up her hands and shook her head again.

“I’m sorry, Kaz, but I swear I didn’t know. You never told me to follow her, so I didn’t. I thought you trusted her.”

Kaz’s eyes went dark and a muscle flickered in his jaw.

“I did.”

Jesper glanced anxiously at Inej as Kaz turned his back and walked away, abandoning the con.

You were leaving the meet, bored out of your mind and desperate to get out of the infernal dress, slipping into a familiar escape alley, when an all too familiar cane swung up and pinned you to the wall by your shoulders. You blinked, wide eyed, up at Kaz as he towered over you, eyes narrowed in a shark’s glare. You opened your mouth and the cane pressed harder; you shut it and waited.

“Who are you, really?” Kaz asked quietly, his voice dangerous and low.

Your eyes flicked over the uniform he wore and you sagged a little against the cold brick wall, understanding.

“You were there?”

“Along with Inej and Jesper. As were you, Magpie. Now, I’ll ask again. Who the hell are you?”

You stared up at him for a long silence, and eventually felt the cane’s pressure start to lift.

“I am Magpie, Brekker. That’s all that matters. I don’t keep the money I earn from stealing. I donate it to orphanages, here and abroad. I don’t need the money because I come from it, I already have access to enough. I am also the woman who loves you, gloves and all. I take you as you are, Kaz. You are the only one who has seen me with mask on and off, all the way.”

Kaz listened silently to your words, his eyes roving your face and settling on your lips as they stopped moving.

“You took off your armour” he said softly. “For me.”

You shrugged lightly, smiling a little.

“And for myself” you told him. “I needed someone to trust.”

He blinked, and his blue eyes softened a bit.

“You chose badly, Mags.”

You shook your head slowly and reached for his cane, pushing it down onto the ground, your own hands covering his on the ornate crow’s head.

“I disagree” you murmured. “I chose perfectly. And I don’t make mistakes.”

Kaz’s dark eyebrows rose quickly and his mouth opened to retort.

“You make mistakes all the time! Last night, you tripped over my rug!”

“Oh, would you shut up and kiss me?”

Barely hiding the smirk he wore, Kaz leaned harder on his cane as he dipped his head a little lower to touch his lips to yours, cold and chapped but you didn’t care.

A slow clap rolled toward you from the alley mouth and you opened your eyes to glimpse Jesper over Kaz’s shoulder, grinning broadly from ear to ear. Kaz sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Well, well, well, boss and little thief” Jesper mused, eyebrows arched high. “How long has this been going on for? Do we need to have ‘the talk’?”

Tagging: @writingmysanity

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x female reader #liss writes #shadow and bone fic #soc fic #six of crows #magpie

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kiigan · 5 months

Text

❝nocturnal poetry; dressed in the whitest silver you'd smile at me❞

⇾ deity/supernatural verse ⇾ tag: give me high in a world of contradiction; intertwining of the tangled earthly desires ⇾ status: alternate universe; open to interactions

ㅤBased on Japanese mythology and the Shinto religion with a large dose of headcanons, exploring the idea of Itachi as Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto, the Deity of the Moon. This is a versatile verse and can easily be used in a lot of different settings, cross-overs included. As a general background, Tsukuyomi grows easily bored of the same-old, same-old immortal existence (especially upon entering times when ancient deities are mostly forgotten by humans) and often visits the human world for his own amusement.

⇾ Appearance and mannerisms ㅤTsukuyomi easily stands out due to his uncommon beauty, androgynous features, traditional clothing, complex vocabulary, and generally ancient mannerisms and habits. Has deep black eyes that change to a blood-red color whenever making use of his powers. Long black hair reaching down past his waist, which he keeps loose or more intricately styled according to his mood. Dresses in a variety of kimonos, the colors and patterns also according to mood (though he tends to favor reds and golds), and tends to go barefoot everywhere (being unaffected by any sort of human injury, sickness, or dirt). If needed, is willing to compromise for geta sandals. Loves accessories and tends to always wear at least a few bracelets, necklaces, rings, earrings, and headpieces. Often wears make-up in the traditional Japanese style.

ㅤTsukuyomi is very elegant in his movements, be it standing or walking or sitting or even simply lying down, and his presence brings about an aura of serenity and peace. Has the habit of carrying around a wooden folding fan with moon patterns, mostly to fan himself with for dramatic effect. Or to smack outrageous humans on the head with, whenever necessary.

⇾ Personality ㅤGenerally tranquil, welcoming, and nurturing. Has moments of big excitement, especially when learning new things about the mortal world. Even though he can be terribly condescending towards humans, and may or may not be salty that they long ago gave up on their worshiping, he does in fact respect them a lot for their tenacity and intellect and is very interested in learning more about their world. Despite the serene mood, he can also be incredibly sassy and/or stubborn. As well, he often displays a very flirtatious and teasing mood.

⇾ Powers ㅤTsukuyomi's powers are mostly related to the weaving of illusions. He can effortlessly manipulate the environment and the bodily senses and create illusions that are almost impossible to break. He is also able to easily conjure glamors with which to disguise either himself or others, or even physical objects or entire buildings. Additionally, he possesses the ability to read minds and, although to a lesser extent, to manipulate said minds and to erase or modify memories. He also possesses the ability to weave and influence dreams. Generally speaking, he is able to fluctuate and hover above ground and can fade into mist in order to avoid attacks.

ㅤWhile in the human world, Tsukuyomi's powers are directly related to the circadian cycle and to the moon phases. During daytime, most of his powers are unavailable to him, save for the ability to conjure glamors. Daylight also greatly impairs his eyesight, making it rather blurry. The magnitude of his powers fluctuates along with the moon cycle, being at its peak during full moon and at its weakest during new moon. His general mood follows a similar pattern, fluctuating between more enthusiastic and energetic, and more lethargic and quiet.

⇾ Random little bits

Knows literally nothing about technology. If you hand him a phone, he's gonna ask you what is this enchanted rock that shines bright and plays music.

Can't read/write modern world languages, despite being able to speak them with a heavy accent.

Has a huge soft spot for human indulgences, including food and drinking (despite having no real need for any of these) and every other vice.

Can't cook to save his life, because obviously that is not a deity-like skill. Because he does love human food, however, will shamelessly empty your fridge regardless.

Loves sleeping, despite also having no real need for it. Just loves fluffy beds and couches and cushions in general.

Loves soaking in the bathtub for hours, despite never actually getting dirty or sweaty.

Also has a very soft spot for human trinkets that are completely useless.

Will compensate you for any trouble by granting you beautiful and pleasant dreams and by offering the bestest massages.

Very talented at playing the shamisen.

Naturally smells like a mixture of jasmine and amber.

Actually has a myriad of children, of every possible age and with a lot of different partners. These deities have been around since the beginning of time and have frolicked a lot okay. Don't judge.

You know the Uchiha dramatics? They originated in Tsukuyomi.

#long post #[verses]

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bouncybongfairy · 1 year

Text

Our Universe

Hobie Brown (Across the Spider-Verse) X Garnet (Steven Universe)

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse & Steven Universe Crossover.

Summary: Hobie accidentally ends up in the Crystal Gem's dimension and meets Garnet. They immediately hit it off and talk about their similarities while on the beach. Steven ends up convincing Hobie to stay for a Sadie Killer and the Suspects concert. After performing with Sadie, Hobbie leaves through a portal after giving Garnet a kiss on the cheek. This creates feelings of jealousy in Ruby that sapphire must fix.

Word Count: 2k+

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Garnet was taking a break from cleaning the beach of unearthly shards, staring at the sunset. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something was off. Something she could feel but couldn't see. She started digging up large pieces of metal, watching Steven get distracted by different seashells and stones. It was getting late, and they were trying to get as much work done while there was still daylight. Steven eventually convinced everyone to come inside and save the rest of the work for the morning. Steven was asleep and the other gems were off doing frivolous things on their own. Garnet was sitting on the couch, staring out the window. She was contemplating whether to fill Pearl and Amethyst in about the off feeling she had. As she rolled the idea around in her mind, she was a flash coming from outside; it was a portal.

She rushes outside to investigate the new gateway. She was on high alert. This was more than likely to be the reason she was feeling weird. Once she got close enough, she could see a figure standing in front of the portal. She armed herself and ran full speed ahead. They were too fast, jumping into the air before she could get to them. She was trying to see the future for him, but everything was blurry and she couldn't make it out. It was frustrating her, driving her crazy like an itch she couldn't scratch. She slams her fists onto the sand and lets out a scream before continuing to attack whoever this was. Suddenly, she saw a gleaming green light coming from the sand. She moves her focus from the being to the glow. She was confused about what it was, it looked like a watch but she was confused because of how bulky it was. Her first instinct was to smash it but she immediately took two things into consideration: One: she had no idea what the use of this device was and how detrimental this situation could get if it was destroyed. Two: she could use it as leverage to get information from this being.

"STOP!" the being yelled, his voice booming over the shore.

"OR WHAT?!" she yelled back, her voice carrying the same passion.

He was now standing about ten, maybe fifteen feet away from Garnet. The portal was closed leaving little to no light, all she could see was his figure. One of the first things she noticed was how lanky he was. He threw his guitar over his shoulder and put his arms up, slowly approaching.

"Is that an accent I hear?" he asked her.

"Was that you stalling?" she befuddled. He laughed and started getting closer.

"Are your intentions on this planet hostile?" Garnet asked.

"Only if you break my watch," he said, he was now only 5 feet away from her.

She was a bit taken back by his form. He had big hair like her, for how fast he was moving it didn't surprise her to see how skinny he was. He had spike cuffs on each arm with a matching choker around his neck. He looked like the men on Greg's band posters. Before she could react one of Hobie's webs flew past her and was attempting to take the gadget from her grasp. She held on as hard as she could without breaking the thing. This caused her feet to be dragged towards him through the sand, the sudden motion knocked Garnets glasses off. They were practically chest to chest, he seemed to be taken back as much as she was. They stood on the shore, making direct eye contact with each other. They both smirked at each other before all hell broke loose, Garnet smashed her armored fists against the sand. Hobie jumps into the air and uses a web trying to get ahold of his watch. She could tell he wasn't entirely human, solely based on the way he was fighting. He was so powerful yet controlled with his movements and combat, mortals on her earth weren't as.. articulated. They were going back and forth for a while, mostly doing each other's attacks.

"You should know that I take protecting planet Earth very seriously, anything it takes," Garnet said.

"Looks like we have a lot in common, I don't want to cause any problems on your bloody planet. I came here by accident. Just relax with the aggro," he said now with his mask on.

"How did you get here? I saw you come through a portal," Garnet said.

"It's a long story of love; not every song is meant to be sung. Not to mention the details are probably over your head, really crazy shit," he said.

"Walks on the beach were made for long stories. I am two gems with a body that is both light and matter. I've been alive for thousands of years and fought in a war against my home planet that took many of my allies' lives. Not much is over my head," she said while unarming her fists.

"Fair enough, that's pretty deep,” he said.

They started walking down the shore line, Hobie explained his powers and where he got them from. Explained what the Web-Watch was and how he could travel dimensions. They bonded over some of the trauma they had experienced while fighting for what’s right. She explained how on homeworld the fusion of two different gems was unheard of and how horrible the reactions were when she fused infront of people. Hobie compared it to how the police and media on his planet always villainize him even when all he does is help people. Garnet had been on Earth for so long that she forgot what it was like to be.. impressed and surprised by new people or things. Pearl, Amethyst and herself were usually the most unique people in the room. People were infatuated and entertained by how unpredictable and worldly they are. She was getting a taste of that from Hobie, it was nice having an interaction that she didn't know the outcome of. He asked her if she was British which made her laugh because she had never even been to England. Garnet began explaining what the crystal gems were and why they rebelled against the diamonds. Hobie commenced her and the gems on their bravery and gave condolences of their losses. It didn't take long for them to start comparing how similar they were. The accent, the hair, their need to stick it to the man. The fact that they were bathing was fighting a war that would cause more damage than repair. They were now just sitting in the sand, Hobie was talking about his plans if he woudln't have become spider-man. He wanted to tour and play shows but obviously that wasn't in the plan for a while. She understood how she felt completely, she would sometimes wonder what she would do if she had absolute freedom. If she didn't have to fight or protect anything or anyone. Wondering if the war she's fighting is worth what it took from and out of her. Hobie asked her about her gems and she explained what fusion was. He was in awe about this, talking about how it's similar to humans.

"You know, as humans grow and mature we take things from our past and use it to create the people we are today. Before I became Spider-Man, I was.. yeah a twat to put it bluntly. I didn't kill that person, he's still with me but now understands that he wasn't as good of a guy as he thought. Sometimes I even find myself almost making important decisions with that old mindset but it's like the newer me grabs his hand and leads him the right direction," he said as they looked up at the sunrise.

"You're a cool dude, Hobie Brown," Garnet said.

"You're a pretty fly bird Garnet," He said.

Steven eventually came out looking for Garnet. He was shocked by Hobbies presence but then started asking about his guitar and other pins that were on his clothes. He was then dragging him back to the house, specifically to show Hobie his dad vans and all his music. Garnet followed, watching as Hobie answered all Steven’s inquiries about his style and instrument. They were now sitting listening to Greg’s records which Hobie really liked, anything underground was Hobies scene.

“Can you stay for Sadie’s concert tonight? She is the lead singer of Sadie Killer and The Suspects. Maybe you could even perform, that would be so cool!” Steven said as he pulled out one of her CDs to sample.

“I don’t think he can stay Steven, he also has a version of Earth that needs his protection,” Garnet said.

“The only reason I’d stay was for a good show,” Hobie said, taking a bite of the pancakes that Steven made.

Everyone that met Hobie seemed to really like him, he was reserved yet polite. The show was going to start any minute, Sadie and her band were backstage tuning their instruments. Steven was running around last minute to make sure everything was taken care of. Pearl was hanging out with Amethyst leaving Garnet in the crowd with Hobie. They were making small talk about people in the crowd. Not in a negative way or anything, more like people watching. He was admiring how colorful everyone was, there wasn’t a single frown in the crowd. He was talking about how on his Earth everyone was so preoccupied with how they were preserved by strangers and how it showed in the way they act.

“Concerts on my Earth nowadays are more about taking pictures to prove you were there. Those wankers end up watching the entire performance through a screen. They probably wouldn’t be able to remember it if it weren't for the 100s of pictures on their phone. I can see the difference here though, people are more connected, I love to see it,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“There are still those types of people here, even more so on homeworld,” Garnet said.

“Well, I’m glad there aren’t too many of those people here,” he smiled.

The lights were now starting to go down, indicating that the band was about to start the event. Once the band came on stage, the crowd was going crazy. Even Garnet began swaying back and forth to the music, same as Hobie. After a couple songs Sadie called Hobie on stage and everyone was mesmerized with his preface. He was jumping around and swinging while playing guitar in perfect rhythm. Garnet was really enjoying watching his performance, Steven and Greg had shown her many genres of music and all the media that came along with it. Watching Hobie perform was different, she could never predict what he would do next and it created a feeling of suspense that Garent wasn’t used to. It was nice to see how much he enjoyed performing in his facial expressions. Sadie was dancing with him as they performed together, he crouched down real low so that they could both sing into the mic at the same time. Normally her band mates would be keeping the same serious look on their face but they were grinning ear to ear; matching Hobie’s energy. Hobie was having a great time too, it was nice to look into the crowd and see smiling faces instead of the flash from a cell phone. Once the song was over, Hobie swung from the stage and in front of Garnet who was at the back of the large crowd.

“See you around,” he said, giving her a peck on the cheek before opening a portal and leaving.

Suddenly Sapphire and Ruby were unfused, and Ruby was practically on fire. Safire was a bit confused but then realized it due to jealousy. Sapphire then ran after her, eventually catching up farther down the shore. Rubying was still fuming, breathing heavily with her arms crossed.

“I’m sorry Ruby. The reason I was so preoccupied with Hobie was because I couldn’t predict his future and wondering about it was making me blind to your feelings. That was wrong and I’m sorry,” Sapphire said, setting her hand on Ruby’s shoulder.

“I was just jealous because that’s how we used to be,” Ruby said, more sad than angry.

“Oh Ruby, I still feel that way about you. I think part of the reason he interested me was because he reminds me of you. I will always love you more than anything and if you don’t want anything to do with Hobbie we can tell him that if he ever comes back. I’m so sorry I made you feel this way Ruby, and I'm even more sorry for not noticing,” Sapphire said, wiping a tear from her eye.

“I love you too Sapphire, I’m glad we talked about this and I understand why you had so much interest in him. I would be lying if I said I didn’t think he was cool,” Ruby said, taking Sapphire into her arms, twirling around before fusion and making her way back to the concert.

#fanfic writing #spiderman #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #hobie my beloved #garnet #garnet steven universe #Garnet fanfic #steven universe #steven universe crossover #spiderman crossover #hobie x reader #garnet x reader #hobie brown spider punk #fluff fanfiction #short fanfic #hobie brown crossover #steven universe gems #crossover fanfic

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lemonhemlock · 2 years

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The Thing of it is, show doesn't even support the whole "Happy" Black Family. Jace clearly doesn't like Daemon and seems to be afraid of him as well, plus being the mentions of bastardry ( secret, but obvious) is clearly sore spot for him. Lucerys showed he was uncomfortable with becoming heir to Driftmark because of his bastardy ( I look like Harwin Strong) and even says Driftmark should have gone to Vaemond. And Daemon has been shown to be abusive towards Rhaenyra and etc.

So yeah I do agree the Blacks! Family is not a happy family in verse and there is case of " showing, instead of telling" going on with there scenes. It strikes me as putting on facade of Happy Family, when it clear they're are major cracks and it going to burst.

hello, anon, it's true that jace and daemon clash a little in episode 10, but it's unclear whether that's a regular thing or just a high stress situation with v high stakes. i do hope we get to see more of that in the future, though.

it's v hard to extrapolate since daemon doesn't interact with the children at all after the 6-year time jump, not even so much as to look at them, i don't think. baela does snitch on her grandmother for him, so there's that.

this is where a few extra episodes in S1 would have helped a lot, i suppose. the blacks are a very big mixed family with 7 children going on 8. there are a ton of dynamics that we know next to nothing about.

luke does show some level of awareness and remorse as a result of his illegitimacy, but he still is quick to get physical at a slight insinuation. there is this disconnect between how he presents himself and his actions. i don't want to say that he is validated by the narrative, because i don't really think that's the case exactly. often enough, the show has presented us with events and allowed us to form our own opinions, very rarely has it spelled anything out. but luke's story could have really been contextualised better with a couple of tweaks.

when he's with rhaenyra or jace, he's a sweet, sensitive boy, not especially confident in himself. yet he expresses no guilt faced with the person he disfigured. he just witnessed the theft of driftmark in broad daylight and the summary execution of a man for his own benefit. for someone plagued with guilt, you'd think he'd be a little more contrite, traumatized even. aemond was right in what he was saying, after all. and his taunt was comprised of a mere insinuation, he didn't even utter the word bastard. it wasn't even in open court, just a private dinner with close family members where everyone present knew the truth already. the damage to jace and luke's reputation was exactly zero.

then he runs to mummy to complain about it - after the deed is done, not before. and he's only just a little puppy-dog-eye sad about it. meanwhile, rhaenyra is framed in a lovely, fulfilling motherhood glow, comforting her silly boy, assuring him he's the victim in all this and that she's going to help him live out this lie she has carved for him.

it could have been a pretty sinister scene if it was shot with gaslighting vibes. but it's shot as a lovely family moment of a mother supporting her son. so it's pretty easy to fall for the facade that they're the westerosi brady brunch. many people who watched the show came off with this exact impression - there must be a reason for it, it's not mass hysteria. especially when the dysfunction within the green camp is highlighted so much more - we see alicent positively fuming at aegon's behaviour, aemond is seething with jealousy and rage, helaena is quick to point out her husband is a drunken lout etc.

this has turned into a very rambly answer, but i do think there is an imbalance between the two camps in how they're framed. they either should have shown more dysfunction within the blacks (it's not like they don't have enough material to work with) or shown more positive interactions between the greens.

remember that scene at the end of GOT S02E09 Blackwater when Cersei is sitting on the Iron Throne, with Tommen in her lap? She is tenderly telling him a story and saying how much she loves him. You'd say she is such a gentle and caring mother, but she is trying to get him to drink poison! (to spare him from execution, yes, but it's not shot like a fluflly hallmark moment) Imagine those kinds of vibes when Rhaenyra is telling Luke how he shares blood with the Baratheons before sending him to Storm's End.

#ask #anon #house of the dragon #asoiaf #anti team black #anti jacaerys velaryon #anti lucerys velaryon #this is not so much an anti post but i'm just tagging for organisational purposes #to keep track on my blog #hotd meta

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