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suguruwithabow · 2 months

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𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱 , satosugu

☆ ; gojo satoru × female¡geto suguru (7,3k)

☆ ; where satoru, the heir of the gojo clan, is forced to marry the thirteen-year-old utahime. luckily, the girl and her lady-in-waiting, suguru, already have a plan.

☆ ; CW mature content , historical inaccuracy , child marriage (but not between gojo and geto) , vaginal sex , fingering , oral , consensual cheating (?) , clan leader gojo , strangers to lovers

☆ ; TW mention of child marriage but there's no underage sex here (both satoru and suguru are twenty-eight)

☆ ; ao3 | wattpad (eng) | wattpad (ita)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | +18 enjoy ! 🎀

«No way! I have no intention of doing it. Have you all gone mad?» «Now calm down, you have no other choice. And why take it out on your servants? It's not like they can do anything about it.»

Nanami watches him impassively from the other side of the room while he paces nervously back and forth.

«Don't you understand, Nanami? Someone has to do something. That is a child. What am I supposed to do with a child?»

«Possibly generate a male heir within the first year of marriage.»

«You're a heartless monster, you know that?»

Satoru Gojo is the only son of the current head of the Gojo family, making him the sole contender for the position of clan leader. He is twenty-eight years old and has everything a man in this world could desire: fame, wealth, good looks, and a strong warrior's body.

Satoru is no slacker; he earned his stripes fighting on the front lines among the emperor's troops. When he walks down the street, people lower their heads out of respect.

But what is happening to him now must be a bad joke.

«No one here is saying that the situation you're in isn't crap, Gojo. I'm just saying that honestly, I don't understand what you want me to do about it. I'm a soldier, Satoru, not a magician. And even if you become the next leader of the Gojo clan, you must obey your current master, like a slave.»

«What kind of sick mind could come up with such nonsense and think it's a brilliant idea?»

«It's more common than you think. The same thing happened to the Zen'in's son, if I'm not mistaken. Then by law–»

«I don't give a shit about the law. By law, children can be given in marriage, and sent to fight a war. What bullshit.» the white-haired man bursts out.

During the last clan council, his family informed Satoru that a wedding between him and the Iori clan leader's daughter would soon be arranged. Satoru had been dazed for a moment. His fears were confirmed when they told him that the Iori daughter was thirteen years old.

Nanami sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he often does when he's exhausted – which is basically every time he is in the same room as Gojo Satoru. «I don't know how to help you, Satoru. You'll have to grit your teeth and do as you're told.»

«Thanks, Nanami. Very helpful.» «Don't be such an ass.» the samurai, his long-time war companion and friend, reprimands him.

This was a nightmare from which Satoru could not wake up. The very idea of marrying a thirteen-year-old girl made his skin crawl and his mouth sour. What kind of sick pervert thought that a couple formed by an adult man and a girl just entering puberty would make a successful marriage?

Marriage? Seriously? And then what? Would they ask him to generate an heir as well? God, not a chance.

It wasn't a secret that his old father was nearing the end, but after sending Satoru to fight on the front lines in the army, he still wasn't tired of torturing him and had come up with this bad joke?

It had to be a joke.

«I'll convince the council to annul this marriage. Hell no, I won't marry a damn child.»

Nanami looked at him with concern. One of Gojo Satoru's many flaws? He was seriously convinced he was omnipotent.

***

As expected, Satoru couldn't get the marriage annulled, and a month later, the Iori daughter arrived at the Gojo estate in preparation for the ceremony to be held in a few days.

Her name was Utahime, a sullen girl with brown hair and eyes who seemed even more opposed to this marriage than Satoru.

Just by looking at her, it was clear how young she still was: petite, with a flat chest and straight hips, exactly as a thirteen-year-old's body should be.

In the eyes of the law, however, she was a woman of marriageable age. At this point, Satoru wondered if he was the crazy one, because who could look at that child and say, "Yes, it's time for her to get married"?

Apparently, Utahime's father.

"Maniac." Satoru thought.

The girl was accompanied by some ladies who would stay with her until the marriage. One of them would stay for at least a year to help her mistress in case of – Satoru felt like throwing up just thinking about it – pregnancy.

The Gojo clan leader had been quite annoyed when he received the request to host one of the Iori ladies long-term even after the marriage of their children, complaining that they already had many female servants at the Gojo estate.

Fortunately, Satoru's mother convinced him to accept. She had been in Utahime's place twenty-nine years ago and remembered well what it was like for a young girl to be sent far from her father's house, thrown into the arms of a much older man, terrified and unhappy.

Having a familiar face nearby might make the process easier.

Utahime's ladies-in-waiting were all beautiful women around twenty years old. Satoru wanted to bang his head against a wall. He would have gladly married one of them, an adult and mature woman with an adult's body, but instead, his nightmare was coming true more and more with each passing second.

Satoru fought until the last moment to get the marriage annulled: he threatened to burn down the estate, to take his own life, or to take the girl's life before even marrying her. But nothing worked, and realistically, Satoru didn't have the courage to carry out any extreme act that would endanger someone's life unnecessarily.

Nanami told him to resign himself, as everyone else close to him did. That's how their world works. The son of the Kamo family is about his age and had to marry a girl much younger than Utahime. Satoru would not win this battle, so he might as well surrender to his fate.

He accepts the idea of marriage. He can always hope for a sudden war so he would have to go to the front before facing the first wedding night. Unfortunately, the peaceful times they lived in dashed his daydreams.

He can delay producing an heir; no one is forcing him to do it immediately, and he has all the time in the world – waiting until the girl becomes an adult doesn't seem like a big problem, but he would still have to consummate at least the first night.

It's mandatory. They will check, and failure to consummate could invalidate the marriage, which would be a much bigger problem because he would be disinherited, and Utahime might be executed. Satoru couldn't escape that. They would stand outside his bedroom door to listen, and the next day they would ask for blood-stained sheets, and one of the older women would personally verify that the girl was no longer a virgin.

If he crouched on the ground and started crying in desperation, would anyone blame him? Maybe not.

The days passed, and the wedding approached. On the morning of the ceremony, Satoru really did cry – but just a little! – He put on the outfit the servants had brought to his room, facing the longest and most exhausting day of his life – and he had fought in a war before this.

Everyone was there. The Kamo son looked at him with concern, sitting next to his child bride. The Iori family sat in the front row next to the Gojo patriarch and his wife, staring at them with admonishing looks, especially Satoru's father, who seemed to be warning him not to mess up.

That bastard Ryoumen Sukuna had the luck to marry a twenty-two-year-old, one of the younger Zen'in daughters named Megumi with long black hair and forest green eyes. Satoru wished he were in his place.

Utahime cried a little when the moment came. Satoru's heart tightened because all of this must have been more terrifying for her than for him. He couldn't even imagine what she was feeling. She was so young, small, and defenseless. At her age, Satoru was playing in the dirt and pestering the maids in the kitchen all day, while she was forced to marry.

The world is truly a horrible place.

There was a grand banquet with music and dancing to celebrate. Satoru sat with his head down next to his wife, who was also silent as a grave. People approached them, congratulated them, Kamo gave him yet another sympathetic look, and his very young bride did the same to Utahime.

Sukuna came to flaunt his beautiful adult wife, while Nanami brought him rivers of alcohol, hoping to induce a coma that would last until Utahime turned at least twenty. Satoru really couldn't bear the sight of the girl dressed that way, and the servants seemed to have bathed her in lavender oil, and its pungent scent gave him a headache.

One of Utahime's ladies, the one who would stay after the party to assist her, approached her to say something that sounded like "everything is ready for tonight," and Satoru felt like crying again, so he hid his expression behind yet another glass of saké. Fucking alcohol tolerance of his.

The lady glanced furtively at him. Satoru returned the look. She was a beautiful woman, about twenty-four years old, with long black hair and bangs framing her tanned face, highlighted by amethyst eyes typical of the southern regions.

Satoru imagined she was born into a peasant family, then sent to the city to become a lady-in-waiting at a noble house like the Iori's.

It was common for girls like her, blessed with beauty, to be taken from farm life and trained as noble ladies. They spent their lives following their mistress, and once she married, they could leave to find a husband. This girl was still young and beautiful, and when her duty was done, she would surely find a good soldier or even an officer to settle down with.

Satoru already envied the lucky man who would marry her. He should be the one with a beautiful woman with black hair in his bed tonight, with whom to consummate his wedding night, not this girl victim of a rotten system.

The party continued well past sunset. Guests drank, ate, and danced without reserve. At one point, Utahime declared she wanted to retire to her room and left with the purple-eyed lady.

Satoru seized the opportunity to breathe a little, meeting his army comrades, Nanami included, and distracted himself by chatting with them about this and that. At least they had the decency not to mention what he would be forced to do tonight.

His father glared at him the whole time from his patriarch's seat, disappointed at how he had let his wife go on their first wedding night. Satoru was so irritated. What did the old man expect him to do? Be eager to sleep with a teenage-girl? No, thank you.

They went on for hours until the fateful moment became unavoidable. Satoru walked around the garden three times, strolled through the estate's corridors at a snail's pace, and, when he reached the bedroom door, wondered if it was worth running away as far as possible.

He thought of slitting his throat right there in the corridor; killing himself was undoubtedly much easier than doing what he was supposed to.

He entered his own room silently like a thief, hoping to find Utahime asleep and use the excuse of his incredible magnanimity in not wanting to wake his wife.

It was all dark, and there was not a sound except for Satoru's heart pounding in his chest. The man took a few steps forward, saw nothing but the outlines of the furniture, and it seemed there was no movement.

Victorious, he turned back and tried to leave, planning to sleep in one of the guest rooms, but before he could realize it, he found himself with his back pressed against the mattress and the girl straddling him.

His blood froze in his veins.

«Hey kid, wait, I don’t–» «Shh.» he is silenced with a finger to his lips. The girl leans down to leave a trail of light kisses across his cheek and jaw, trailing down to the tender, pale flesh of his neck.

Satoru is petrified with horror and fear. What to do? Let things take their course? He thought that Utahime was on his side and wanted to delay this moment as long as possible.

Her long hair seems black in the dim light, caressing Satoru's face as she descends further and further down his throat and chest, the man's senses are invaded by a rich sensual scent of vanilla and shea butter, which seems to send all his nerve endings in ecstasy.

He stops.

This seems anything but the wedding night of a blushing young virgin. A full and firm breast rests on Satoru's chest, soft and thick thighs are tightened around his hips in a sweet vice, when he moves his hands and places them on her waist, he feels her generous curves under his palms.

It takes him a few seconds to realize that she’s not his wife. He’s shocked, he’s about to say something, but as soon as he separates his lips, the woman pounces on him for an expert kiss, her tongue dominates in his mouth leaving him breathless, Satoru squeezes her hips to find something to hold on to, but he is too powerless to reciprocate.

Her deft fingers untie the knots of his dress revealing his toned and chiseled chest. She traces the dip of his muscles with the tip of her index finger as her ass rests against the growing bulge beneath his clothes.

The woman is wearing a white silk slip, they explained to him that it is a tribute to purity or something like that. It really doesn't matter to him. His eyes are adjusting to the dark and he can see how the thin fabric slides over her shoulders, barely covering her boobs; her nipples stand out under the white silk and Satoru would really like to suck them and give them all the attention they seem to deserve.

Obviously the dress was custom made for Utahime, so it's nowhere near the right size for this woman. It marks her slim waist, her fabric is stretched across her chest and hips, it moves dangerously up her thighs until it reveals the imprint of her warm cunt pressing against Satoru's lower belly.

She opens his formal dress, letting it fall off his shoulders and reveal his perfect body and his big, already half-hard, cock resting against the woman's ass.

She grinds against him, her wet pussy’s lips surrounding the tip of his cock, coating him with her sweet venom. She lets out the sweetest sound as her clit is stimulated by the friction against his skin, sending shivers down Satoru's spine, his dick throbbing in anticipation.

She pushes down her hips and the tip gently forces her entrance. She's wet, tight, she resists a little but slowly his cock is completely enveloped by her soft walls.

Satoru has never felt so good. He has never been fucked like this. The woman rides him, imposing her rhythm, squeezing tightly and moaning as she rotates her hips, biting her lips to suppress as much as possible the sounds she would like to make.

Satoru arches his back as her walls clench tightly around his length. Hell, what was that? Something like this had never happened to him; it certainly wasn't the first time he had fucked, and yet.

She increases her speed, her tits move in front of Satoru's eyes who watches them mesmerized. He's been lying on his back the whole time and feels like a real dick, so still.

The woman quickly gets tired of this position, but judging by her wet sounds and moans, she must like it a lot. Satoru takes advantage of this to reverse their roles, he comes out of her just long enough to slam her back onto the mattress and then re-enter that paradise all the way back.

He is indulged without problems, she grabs his shoulders digging her nails into them, a wimp escapes her lips when Satoru imposes his rhythm, much more pressing than before, he bends over his chest to take those precious buds between his lips and tease the nipples between his teeth. God, her tits are really big and beautiful, he already loves them.

The woman's walls clench tightly when she comes, she trembles around him and clings to his neck as if without his support she risks slipping. Satoru kisses her face, which however he cannot see with the little light available, her neck and chest.

He pulls out of her still painfully hard, and masturbates quickly pouring himself onto her stomach. With her labored breathing he collapses next to her, sweat dripping onto his skin as he tries to calm down, she also inhales deeply and her sweet scent envelops Satoru like a caress.

He is exhausted from the long day just passed, so much that he falls asleep without even realizing it.

***

When he wakes up the next morning, Utahime is next to him.

Her white nightgown falls flat over her chest, straight over her hips, and loose around her thin thighs. There's blood on the sheets, but Satoru knows it's not his wife's. The woman he was with last night wasn't Utahime.

The door opens, revealing a crowd of servants and relatives huddled in the corridor. Utahime suddenly wakes up, frightened, and Satoru sees red, moving in front of her to cover her body.

They demand the sheets, and he shivers, yanking them off the bed and handing them over without much ceremony. He barks at the onlookers to leave, saying his wife is shy.

They heard them last night, they have the sheets, now only one last, terrifying proof remains. It will be Satoru's mother who verifies the girl's deflowering, and he doesn't know if that's a good thing or not.

They set up a shoji screen, Satoru stands there, Utahime has her back to him, and his mother leans down to check. A crowd of curious onlookers waits at the door, thank god they can't see. Utahime complies with the requests; it seems like a medical examination, even though it's nothing but a torture.

Satoru feels nauseous; his life is in his mother's hands. She checks, realization dawns on her face: they didn’t do it, it's all a sham.

She looks at him, her blue eyes locked on Satoru's, with an unreadable expression. Satoru breaks out in a cold sweat. She straightens up, «Everything's good.» she says, and leaves. Everyone is relieved, coming to congratulate him, while Utahime hides, wrapping herself in a clean blanket, trying to become as small and unnoticed as possible.

Breakfast is served, the usual maids come in with trays full of fruits and pastries. He sends everyone away, wanting to eat in peace, for god’s sake.

The last to enter is Utahime's lady-in-waiting. When she passes by, Satoru immediately notices the sweet scent of vanilla and her long black hair, turning his head so quickly his neck cracks. She has a bandaged wrist.

Gods, of course! How could he have been so stupid? She’s the one who was with him yesterday evening; Utahime switched places with her maid to avoid consummating her first wedding night. It makes sense.

Satoru looks at her and immediately recognizes her; even under the loose clothing, the deep and sensual curve of her hips is well defined by the fabric. She caresses Utahime's face with concern; the bandage on the wrist is slightly stained with red, she must have cut herself to simulate the blood on the sheets. Genius.

Satoru is about to say something, but Utahime stops him with a dirty look. She knows he knows. But there are still too many people in the room. Everyone is sent away; they are alone, eating in silence, and Satoru thinks about that lady.

«What's her name?» he asks Utahime, and she glares at him.

«Don't even think about it.» she spits venomously.

«Oh, come on, I at least have the right to know, don't I? I'm part of the team too.»

«There is no team.»

«Hey kid, I'm on your side. I'm happy about this. Just tell me her name.»

Utahime sighs. Is she really married to this idiot? She wants to curse her father. «Suguru, her name is Geto Suguru. But she's totally out of your league.»

«How old is she?»

«Twenty-eight.»

The same age as him? Satoru would have sworn she was a bit younger. Oh, well, he’s pleased. They already have something in common.

«She's beautiful.»

«I know. Stay away from her.»

«Hey, you ladies dragged me into this mess.»

«Because we knew you wouldn’t say anything, but Suguru is mine, so don't get any weird ideas.»

Possessive. Satoru understands; he'd be the same if he had Suguru for himself.

Suguru, what a beautiful name. Satoru thinks about it all day.

After breakfast, he gets up and takes care of his duties as the heir of the Gojo clan. His father asks to see him and congratulates him on consummating the marriage; his mother is in the room, always giving him that strange look, but as long as she says nothing, Satoru is fine with it.

There are still some wedding guests preparing to leave. Sukuna pities him for his unhappy union, and Satoru considers punching him in the face; his wife, Megumi, scolds him and apologizes to Satoru. Damn, she's too beautiful and kind for a monster like Sukuna.

Nanami gives him a supportive pat on the shoulder, Satoru is about to tell him what really happened, but there are still too many people around.

He stops a maid, asking about Suguru, Utahime's lady-in-waiting, pretending his wife was looking for her. The maid tells him Suguru wasn’t feeling well and was sleeping in her quarters, exhausted from all the work they had to do.

At lunch, Satoru visits the kitchen, hoping to see her, but she’s not there. He wants to check their room to see if she’s with Utahime, but his father calls him to have lunch with him.

He sees her again only at dinner. She sits behind Utahime, peeling fruit with her long black hair framing her face, making her look like a sea goddess.

Satoru can look at her openly because it looks like he's glancing his wife. It's perfect. Suguru is so caring, so ethereal, Satoru can't decide which part of her he prefers, but perhaps it's her overall beauty that makes her special.

It's easy to have pretty eyes, lips, or hair, but beauty is more than just the sum of its parts. It’s elegance, grace.

Utahime is tired and wants to retire to sleep. Satoru became sad because Suguru accompanies her, and as she leaves the room, she doesn’t even glance at him. And all the moans and kisses from last night? No way they were fake. She enjoyed it, Satoru is sure of it.

Dinner drags on. It's all deathly boring. Satoru retreats into his head as he often does; it was the only way he managed to keep his cold blood during war, carving out moments of pure fantasy within the only safe space: his mind. He thinks of Suguru peeling fruit, but this time she's doing it for him, in his bed. She feeds him small slices of apple one by one, and when she smiles, he kisses her with the sour juice mixing with their saliva.

Sweet.

Almost all their relatives left today, only they and the servants remain at the estate. He retreats to his office, writes a letter to be sent tomorrow morning, and signs the required documents, the usual routine.

When he’s done, he heads to his room. He can slip into his bed, and no one will disturb him, Utahime is silent, she won’t give him any trouble and is probably already sleeping. For now, he still has to sleep in his room; they expect him to. In a few days, maybe, he will move to the guest room when his "duties" are over.

Until then, he will sleep in his bed as usual, as close to the edge as possible so as not to disturb the girl.

When he opens the door, however, she greets him with a hug and a kiss. Suguru smells lovely tonight too, her lips are warm, and her arms wrap around Satoru's neck, pulling him close.

Satoru smiles at her, tonight the oil lamp is lit, and the faint reddish light illuminates the woman's amber skin as if the sun itself had gifted her. «You made me wait.» she says.

It’s the first time he really hears her voice. She’s talking to him, not addressing Utahime with that formal, submissive tone. Satoru feels like a happy husband, returning to the room embraced by his wife after finishing his duties.

Fuck, he deserves it. It's been a tough few days.

«I didn’t expect to find you here, I would have headed back much earlier if I had known. You didn’t even look at me at dinner tonight.»

«And how could I, Gojo-sama? I am not allowed to look up at my mistress's husband. Where I come from, one risks death for such things.» She is sweet; Satoru puts his hands around her waist and holds her close to feel her warmth. Her scent is intoxicating, her loose hair framing her face like a gift from the night itself for this wonderful creature.

He looks into her sharp, violet eyes, so clever and bright – it seems hard to believe they belong to such an angel.

«Yet you're here, are you willing to risk your life for this?» «Only if you make it worth it, Gojo-sama.»

«Satoru.» «Mh?» «You can call me Satoru.» «Sa-to-ru.» for the first time, his name takes on a completely different consistency on her tongue. The man kisses her, pushing her back to the edge of the bed, covers her with his body and keeps his hand on the back of her neck to keep her from moving away.

She kisses him back, she's fucking good at it. Her hands do not lie helpless on his chest, but caress his back forming new and wonderful patterns. Tonight her nails will scratch that back hard, Satoru will have to make amends for last night, in which it was mainly Suguru who did the work.

He undresses her without stopping kissing her, under her dress there is nothing so his hands immediately find the soft and smooth skin to caress and pinch. His kisses trail down her chest, he massages her breasts with his hands, showers them with attention, sucks on her nipples until they are erect and glistening with saliva. She whimpers a little as she squirms under his touch, but Satoru keeps her still and good with more gentle, playful touches.

He kisses her stomach, the trail of hair that leads him to the main meal. He kisses her inner thighs, rubs his cheek against them, looks at her with his impossible blue eyes while hers are pleading and swollen with tears. She wants him to taste it, but she's afraid to say it out loud.

Satoru fortunately is a perceptive man, passionately devouring the lips of her flower. She's so wet and tempting, that taste of her makes him moan against her skin, he has to reach up to his crotch to squeeze his already rock-hard cock.

Suguru bites the back of her hand to keep from screaming as she buries her head into the pillow. Satoru devours her as if he made a religion out of it, his strong arms keep her legs spread and pinned to the mattress, so that even if she wanted to, she couldn't escape his slow torture. The spiral of her pleasure tightens more and more in her womb until it blurs her vision, her walls tighten around nothingness as her body is pervaded by the spasms of her first orgasm of tonight.

She trembles in Satoru’s arms, he stands up to kiss her face while she sobs, he lets her taste herself on his tongue, dries her tears with his fingertips.

Satoru's hands aren’t delicate, they are rough and covered in calluses, but they touch her as if she were made of paper that he doesn't want to tear. He’s kind and touches her so gently. Suguru has never had such a tender lover.

He lets her calm down, his hard cock pressing against the woman's tender flesh but Satoru ignores it. He only care about kissing her, rubbing his nose in the crook of her neck to let himself be overwhelmed by her vanilla-scented skink, gently fingering her with devotion, enjoying the wet and obscene sounds of her cunt.

Suguru comes at him with thrusts. She grabs the wrist of while his hand has two fingers buried inside her, squeezes them as if she wants to break them; Satoru wets his lips as he remembers the sensation of being inside her.

Suguru decides that his fingers aren't enough. She needs something thicker and warmer to fill her up, so she grabs his cock and lines it up with her hole. «Can you– can you– please.» she pleads. She pleads because doing it with Satoru feels so good and she doesn't mind sounding needy.

Satoru holds her and fulfills her request, without batting an eye. He fucks her the way she wants, slow and deep, then fast enough that the smacks of their skin are so loud that they drown out her moans. Her mouth is open, a string of saliva sliding down her chin, her eyes crossed.

Satoru has his hands on her waist, he stares intently at the point where his cock enters her, red like a blooming azalea, he has to think about something else in order to not come immediately and paint her insides white.

He does inventory of the Gojo’s warehouse in his head and goes over the names and ranks of all the members of the royal family before giving in and coming so hard that his balls hurt after. He pulls out just in time to pour himself on her wet and red pussy. If he didn't want to risk impregnating his wife's maid, he would come inside her so deep that he would touch the pearly gates of heaven with his fingertips, but unfortunately he has to resist to the instinct to stick his cock back into her cunt and make a mess of it.

Suguru lets him rest on her chest once cleaned with a wet cloth, strokes his white hair and traces imaginary drawings on his skin. Satoru soon slips into the limbo of half-sleep, but when he is about to fall asleep for real he hears Suguru get up, get dressed and leave. He wants to stop her, but he's too tired even to speak, he falls asleep a second later.

***

The happiest six months of his life pass. On paper, Satoru is married to Utahime from the Iori clan, but every night, waiting for him in his room, there’s Suguru Geto, with her soft lips and warm body.

Satoru doesn't want to exaggerate, but he might have fallen in love with this woman. Their encounters are limited to nighttime, while for the rest of the day, Suguru isn't in his sight or, if she is, she's always a step behind Utahime with her head bowed.

They don't just have sex when they meet, sometimes they just kiss, chat about this and that, or play shoji or cards – and Suguru always beats his ass.

Satoru likes the way she laughs, how she quickly ties her hair back when it bothers her, her elegant handwriting, her always neat kimono, the way she eats.

When she's with Utahime, she takes care of her hair, accompanies her on long walks, listens attentively to every word, truly listens without ever interrupting. Satoru understands why Utahime adores her so much, she always talks about Suguru with shining eyes and gives him terrible looks when he tries to approach her in daylight.

She's a precious treasure; anyone would want her by their side. Satoru even overhears a servant making compliments about her and has to summon all his self-control to not draw his sword and execute him right there in the corridor.

One day, it seems like it's going to rain, so Satoru goes to get Suguru in her room and tells her to get ready. She looks at him, frightened and confused; it's the first time he's spoken directly to her in front of other people.

She does as she's told, following Satoru to the estate's entrance, always a step behind, staring at his back with her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

«Gojo-sama, what are you doing here?» one of the servants asks when the master orders a carriage to be prepared.

«I'm going to the city for errands.» he replies brusquely. The servant tilts his head, casting a long look at Suguru, who does everything to hide behind Satoru's imposing figure.

«Are you taking Lady Iori's maid with you? Perhaps you’d prefer to take your wife, no?» The servant's tone is provocative. Satoru doesn't like being questioned; he already has to deal with his father every day – in reality, the only time he's truly listened to is when he's barking orders in the army.

«That's not possible. I'm going to the city to buy a gift for my wife; it must be a surprise. This maid knows her more intimately than I do, she will advise me wisely.»

The servant seems suspicious, but Satoru is firm with his words, and the servant is no one to contradict the master. They get into the carriage and travel in silence, sitting apart.

Suguru is happy to finally leave the estate, hiding her smile behind her hand as she looks out the window.

Utahime still hasn't gotten used to the new house and rarely goes out. She doesn't have much to do, as a lady-in-waiting, she isn't allowed to work outdoors or in the kitchens. Usually, when her mistress doesn't require her presence, Suguru simply sits down. Thankfully, Satoru has given her free access to his library and occasionally sends her accounting reports to review – since Suguru is very attentive and has noticed small errors more than once – otherwise, she would seriously risk dying of boredom.

Sometimes Satoru's mother wants to have tea with her, saying she appreciates her company, but Suguru thinks she suspects something. Satoru told her that his mother knows about the unconsummated marriage, but that her suspects the relationship between her son and the maid is just a conjecture: Satoru is too careful and Suguru has a great poker face, she must have deduced it, being the only other person aware of the first night's ruse.

So, Suguru is happy to get out of that estate, meet normal people outside the servants and the Gojo family.

When they arrive there, Satoru actually runs errands, and Suguru follows him patiently. All eyes are on her, and Satoru doesn't like it. This woman is too beautiful even for a short visit to the city.

It doesn't take long before the strong smell of rain fills their nostrils and the first drops begin to dot the ground with spots. Suguru feels herself being grabbed by the waist and lets Satoru guide her through the city's streets.

«Damn, it really looks like it's going to rain, we should find a place to shelter for now, what do you think?»

Suguru blushes and lets herself be guided to a teahouse, one of those refined places where only those with money to throw away can enter, while most people can only gaze at the windows in hopes of catching a fleeting glimpse of the girls working there.

They enter the foyer just in time before the rain starts pouring down heavily. The old woman at the counter greets Satoru with a smile, as if it's not the first time he's been here.

«Maeda-sama. We weren't expecting you anymore, it's been so long!»

Satoru returns the smile and shrugs. «What can I say, Ogawa-san? I've been busy.»

They take a private room; it's rather large and furnished a bit kitschily, but the cushions look soft, and there's a window where they can watch the rain fall on the empty street.

A girl brings them tea; Satoru sends her away and pours the hot liquid into Suguru's cup himself, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her onto his lap.

He watches her drink carefully from the ceramic cup, moves her hair from her face, and gently kisses her neck. Satoru wishes there were more moments like this, but unfortunately, they can only afford stolen moments during the night when the house is silent, and prying eyes are closed.

«Aren't you going to drink anything, Satoru?» Suguru, who has finally started calling him by his name after all his urging, asks him.

Satoru shakes his head, hiding among her long, silky black hair. God, how he loves that hair, he adores how it frames her face innocently, or how it slides sensually down her back when he takes her from behind.

«They didn't bring sugar; I don't like tea unless it's sweet enough.» he explains. Suguru laughs, leaning back on her lover's shoulder. «You're such a baby.» she gently chides.

Satoru grabs her chin with his fingers and forces her to turn her head to engage her in a deep kiss. The tea might have been bitter, but the mouth of the most beautiful woman in the world to Satoru is like honey from its source.

She moans into his mouth, rubbing against his thigh seeking more contact. Suddenly, it's too hot and there are too many layers of clothes between them.

«Satoru–» Suguru moans as they lie down on the soft, decorated carpet, in each other's arms.

«Suguru...» the man whispers, looking at her with his clear blue eyes. «I wish you were my wife.»

Satoru has thought this from the moment he first noticed her, but it's the first time he's said it out loud, especially to Suguru.

It sounds sad, but she decides to joke about it to lighten the mood. «Come on, Satoru, don't you know married men don't bring their wives to teahouses?» she laughs.

«I'd take you anywhere if I could. I’ll find a way to marry you, Suguru. I promise you.» he's serious, Suguru can't handle the intensity of his gaze, so she moves down his body to his groin and carefully unties his dress.

«You will have to settle for a lover for now, Gojo-sama. And then who tells you that I would like to be your wife? I see you have a tendency to be unfaithful to your spouse.» she jokes by grabbing his cock at the base – it's thick, warm, with a big vein running the length of it. Suguru swallows dryly.

She kisses the tip, parting her lips to wet the length, with her expert tongue that already knows all of Satoru's weak points. She’s grateful that she has practically no gag reflex, otherwise she wouldn't be able to take even a quarter of it. Instead, she swallows his length almost entirely and where she can't reach, her hand takes care of completing the job. She enjoys the strong taste of him, and his muffled moans as she sucks him off.

«Says the woman who crawled into my bed on my wedding night.»

When Satoru's cock is hard and aroused enough, Suguru pulls away with a pop, a string of saliva connecting her red, swollen lips to the tip of his cock.

«Did not you like it? Yet I thought you had a good time, if my memory serves me correctly. Do you remember how I rode you that first night?» Suguru climbs up the man's tense body, her dress slips down her shoulders leaving her naked under the burning gaze of her lover. She moves to rub the tip of his cock against her hole, the emptiness in her stomach becoming unbearable in anticipation. «I thought you liked it, Gojo-sama. Maybe you were expecting a pure virgin dressed in white, I'm afraid chastity doesn't suit me though, master.»

«If you’re chaste I am the emperor, but don't worry, my love. I will drink your debauchery to the last drop, as long as it is reserved for my eyes alone.»

Suguru smiles at him, her hair down and wild, driving Satoru crazy. She lowers her hips until she takes it all inside her, her walls squeeze him tightly, like the first night, Satoru is in ecstasy. The sensation he feels inside her is unlike anything on earth, sometimes while he’s fucking Suguru he thinks that the angels have sent him a piece of heaven as a gift for him and him alone.

The idea that someone else could get close to her is enough to make him rush with anger. He tells himself in his head that if anyone ever wants to taste Suguru, they will have to taste his blade first.

Suguru whimpers as she rides him wildly, Satoru assists her movements by placing his hands on her hips and supporting her, but he doesn't have to guide her in any way because she already knows what she has to do.

The idea of the virgin and pure wife never aligned with Satoru. He doesn't find it arousing or anything, unlike many other men; he himself wasn't a virgin when he got married – hell, he lost his virginity in a teahouse similar to this one as soon as he had the chance – he would never have pretended a chaste woman to be his wife, the way he was made.

He was certain that Suguru wasn’t a virgin, and was actually quite experienced, but he didn't care. As long as she was his from now on, after all, Satoru hadn't shown any interest in other women since Suguru had come into his life, and he had no intention of doing so in the future.

«But look at me, I'm a married man, I shouldn't be doing this sort of thing.» Satoru jokes, leaning in for a kiss. Suguru doesn't deny him and leans forward to give it to him.

«You forget that your marriage isn't valid, and that you spent your first wedding night with me. Perhaps I'm the closest thing to a wife you've ever had, Satoru.» she smiles. The wound was already poisoned; Satoru would never be able to fill the space in his heart meant for Suguru.

«You're right, Suguru. Only you. My one and only.»

That evening, when they return to the estate, Satoru has a dress and a book on botany to give as a gift to Utahime. For the first time, she doesn't look at him disdainfully but thanks him excitedly, immediately starting to flip through the pages filled with detailed drawings and descriptions.

The servants of the estate melt at the sight; in their eyes, Satoru is a tender husband spoiling his wife.

When he turns around, Suguru has already disappeared down the corridor to change in her room. He sighs.

Utahime sits on the couch, and Satoru sits beside her, genuinely grateful to her for bringing Suguru into his life. He promises himself that he will find a way to free her from this marriage and marry Suguru, even if it's the last thing he does in his life.

For now, he will enjoy the peace a little longer.

Fin.

#female geto suguru #geto suguru #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo x geto #satoru gojo #satosugu #satosugu smut #suguru geto #top gojo satoru #bottom geto suguru #satosugu historical #historical inaccuracy #gojo satoru x female geto suguru #gojo satoru x fem geto suguru #gojo x fem geto

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sultrybaby · 1 year

Text

Much Ado About Nothing (N.RK)

in which you and niki have some misunderstandings, and a nosy jay is done with it [inspired by a scene from bones haha]

a.n./ this is for the @kflixnet event haha. For @yoongimooni . I have not written in a while but I tried my best. Hope you enjoy it

💞Warnings: profanity, misunderstandings, a lil bit crying, i have described a very simple situation in a very dramatic fashion, reader has a younger brother by the name of alex💞 Word count: approx. 2k💞Pairing: Nishimura Riki x Fem!Reader (featuring jay, sunghoon, jungwon, alex (younger brother))💞 Genre: Fluff, a lil angst (established relationship)

When your thirteen year old self prayed to have a romance like the books, you were not referring to the abduction and trapping. It seemed as if the universe had misread your wishes, for here you were, being dragged by Jay.

"Would you mind explaining why you're doing this?" You asked, to which Jay gave you what seemed to be his standard response where he would not say anything.

"DUDE!"

"Okay fine!" he said in exasperation, "I was sick an tired of you and Niki constantly bombastically side eyeing each other, so now I am going to lock you in a room for three hours until you guys figure this shit out because I can not deal with you petty kids anymore"

"What-?"

Before you could even process his answer, you were thrown into a room (which you later recognized as Riki's) and the door was shut. Sighing, you nonchalantly walked backwards, habit bringing you to sit on Niki's bed.

Your peripheral vision unfortunately missed out on the 6 foot tall boy that was already sleeping there.

"What the fuck?" Niki exclaimed sleepily, his deep voice softly booming across the room, causing you to let out the most guttural scream in history.

"Oh, you," said Niki, his face falling into a seemingly non care-ish expression that kind of hurt your feelings. It also made you quite mad. Like why is he pretending like you're the one in the wrong here. The literal audacity of this boy to pretend to be the victim here is astonishing.

"Okay what is that supposed to mean?"

"What? I didn't say anything..." he grumbled "just let me sleep..." He lazily lifted the blanket over his eyes.

Okay now he was seriously pissing you off. Yanking the blanket away from his face, you leaned in and held him by his collar.

"Okay listen here you little piece of shit. Your self-appointed older brother or dad or whatever JAY said he's gonna keep us locked in here until we settle our differences. So I think it's best for both of us if you man up and apologise," you said, finishing off with a gentle slap to his head.

"Why the fuck should I apologize, you're the one who has some secret vendetta against my dog," he clapped back, sitting up straight.

Excuse me what now?

You turned back around to face him, confusion etched all over your face.

"I have nothing against Bisco- what the hell are you talking about?" you asked him, the tone of your voice softening due to hurt. You loved Bisco.

"Oh don't pretend to be so innocent. I know you're the one who stole his dog food from my cabinet."

"I would never-"

"And that's not it," he interrupted you, "I noticed that you haven't been spending as much time with him lately. You always do homework or practice during times when you usually walk him, something you claimed to have really liked. Recently whenever he comes to hug you on the couch I can see you inch away from him. If you have something against him you could have just told me but noooo~, you would go as far as to starve him??? Unbelievable..." he said, ending his rant by rolling his eyes at you.

You were speechless. You had no idea that he noticed these things. The feeling of guilt caused you to momentarily forget the anger you felt at him.

It was time to tell him- you owed him an explanation.

"Niki I...I have something to tell you," you said reluctantly.

"Damn right you do -_-"

"It's...not what you think it is..."

Niki turned to look at you curiously, starting to become a bit confused. Taking a deep breath, you said,

"I'mallergictodogfur"

"I'm sorry what?"

"I said," you paused, "I'm allergic. To dog fur." You looked down, unable to meet his eyes. You felt really bad about the way you had hid this from him- Niki really loved that dog of his.

A slender finger ducked underneath your chin, gently lifting your face up. You were now eye to eye with Niki, his face inching close to yours. Wearing an amused expression and that goddamn annoying smirk, he looked at you intently.

"What..." you asked, embarrassment evident in your tone.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he sighed, his tone soft.

"I thought it might hurt your feelings"

"And hiding it would make me feel better?" The question was valid.

"When did you find out?" he asked, hugging you closer. Nuzzling in, you narrated the incident to him.

"It was actually during one of my walks with bisco. He was about to lick something I'm pretty sure he wasnt supposed to, and since it was my first time with a pet, I was cautious and terrified. So I picked him up, away from the ground and towards my face. That's when I started sneezing really bad." you finished, looking up at him.

"Well," Niki said, "You should have told me."

"I know"

"Instead of just ignoring me the way you did"

"Actually," you started, sitting up straight, "that's not why i was ignoring you" you said, feeling the anger boil back into your system.

"What do you mean?" he asked- timidly, a response to your sudden change in tone.

Without a single word, you stood up and walked towards his cupboard. Sliding the door open (perhaps a bit too harsh), you took out the box that you had found while looking for a hoodie a week ago. For the sake of assurance, you opened it, and once again you were met with the horrible sight.

You could feel your jaw ache from emotion as you stared at the torn pictures and broken pieces. With a feeble attempt to ignore the clouding of your eyes, you marched back, throwing the box onto the bed, causing the contents to cause a mess (one toy wheel hitting niki's forehead).

Scraps of pictures littered the bed. Fragments of pictures you had taken with niki, bisco, and some of your little baby brother, one that niki insisted on keeping in his bedroom now nothing but a broken frame. The sight of the poorly torn edges was all it took for the dam to break.

Your sobbing form meekly reached and held the wheel of a very familiar toy car.

"You..." you trailed off, catching your breath, "is something wrong with us, niki? Is something making...making you mad? Is this how you take out your anger? By breaking things? Did I- did I do something wrong? What does this mean?" you ranted breathlessly, not waiting for a reply.

You clutched the plastic wheel harder, holding it to niki's face.

"This... You said you were going to give this to Alex. You said you couldn't wait to play with him, that you wanted to gift him like a good big brother. So why..." you paused, heaving, "why would you break it? Did i say something niki?"

His lack of response only made it harder for you, as you continued to sob relentlessly. Until you felt him gently take hold of your hand.

"Oh sweetie..." his deep voice rung through your ear, causing you to look up slowly, your hiccups slowing down. You faced him, and you were surprised to see a subtle smile.

"Why...why are you" hic "why are you smiling?"

He sighed, and then got off the bed and stood up. Walking to the still open cupboard, he unlocked a drawer hidden behind a bunch of unwashed clothes. You could hear a bit of rattling and jiggling as he pulled something out.

"I wanted this to be a surprise..." he said, his back still turned towards you, "but i guess i have no choice"

Facing you, he walked over and gently placed the item in your hands.

The sight was absolutely heartwarming.

You observed the thin threads, inexpertly but lovingly tying together cut out pictures of you, Alex, and niki- pictures childishly stuck into paper balls. There was sincerity in the little doodles that niki had drawn on the sides of the balls and the adorable cartoon drawings hanging from gold threads. You observed the wooden handle with innocent wonder, caressing it gently. It was beautiful.

Niki had made alex a baby mobile. With all of you in it.

"You think he will like it?" he asked hesitantly, unsure of your reaction.

Turning to him with a bittersweet smile, you simply looked into his eyes, hoping he could see the utter happiness you felt.

And then you grabbed his collar and kissed him.

Although surprised, Niki responded soon enough, cupping your face and smiling into the kiss. You pulled back, foreheads still touching.

"He's gonna love it," you whispered, "just like he loves his big brother."

Resting your head against his shoulder, you held it up as niki clicked the remote. Both of you watched silently as the mobile turned around. The sound of music box nursery rhymes filled the room.

"I used the motor from the car for this, you know" he said, breaking the silence.

"It's wonderful sweetie" you replied, turning around to kiss him again. He locked his lips with yours as you both held each other, happy and content.

"Good to see you're both back at it again- can't say I missed it"

'WTF!" you said, turning around, shit scared.

"JAY CMON MAN" exclaimed niki as both of you looked away, red faced and embarrassed.

*Bonus*

It was no later then 12 am as a strong man nimbly and silently made his way across the dorms. Cautiously amd carefully, without losing hold of the bag in his hand, he opened the door without a single creak. Expertly nudging in, he silently marched to the kitchen cabinet, and placed the packet inside the cupboard.

"YOU BITCH!"

Sunghoon turned around, scared for his life. And in the darkness of the kitchen was you, standing in front of him menacingly. He desperately clutched the edges of the table as if his life depended on it.

" You scared me, ___" he said, "why are you awake right now?" he asked, chuckling nervously.

"Oh shut it! Don't pretend to be so innocent," you said, eyeing him judgementally, "I can't believe you let niki think I was the one that stole bisco's dog food"

"Okay look-" he said, attempting to defend himself in vain. But he took one look at your face and decided there was no point in doing that.

"Okay fine. I promised my sister that I would get the dog food this time and I may have forgot and she may have had a bad day at school and she may have been in a really bad mood because of that and i may have freaked out and stolen niki's dog food and i may have not said anything when he asked which may have led him to pick a fight with you but hey, come on, that's life right?"

"Hmm...okay" you replied, causing sunghoon to sigh in relief.

"And you know," he continued, "I practically did us a favour."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, there is no way of knowing jungwon hasn't tried eating dog food"

"What the fuck?"

Sunghoon whipped his head around, nearly breaking it in the process.

"I'm sorry did the couch just speak?" he asked.

An angry jungwon crawled out from behind the couch, a phone camera in hand.

"What do you mean you think i eat dog food?"

"WHERE TEH FUCK DID U COME FROM?"

"Relax sunghoon," you drawled, "I just asked him to record this so that i could show niki the truth"

"Hey you can't do that-"

"If she doesn't, I will," said jungwon, trotting up next to you.

"Dammit."

TAGLISTS 💞

Permanent all works

@gloomysunny @thomas-the-tank-engene @goldenhypen

Permanent kpop

@soobin-chois @one16core @hoonsmarsbar

Enhypen

@yogurteume @annoyingbitch83

Networks

@kflixnet @enhypennetworks @the-k-neverland

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chenziee · 6 months

Text

Your love, endless like the sky above

First of my three pieces for the @opblondebombshells zine!! It turned out absolutely gorgeous and is available for download for free as of today, so check it out! ✨

[ Read on AO3 | Ko-FI | Commissions ]

—————

As he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets with purpose, Sanji felt a wry smile pulling on his lips. He had never thought he would stand in this kitchen ever again. How many years had it been since he last touched this stove? Thirteen, fourteen years?

It was honestly a marvel this stove even was still here.

They had all this money, all this knowledge, and they couldn’t be bothered to get better and newer kitchen equipment.

Cosette and her team made such elaborate meals for their royal family every day with tools that were probably older than the head chef herself and they still got treated this way. It made Sanji want to kick their sorry asses to hell and back and there again.

Kingdom of Science my ass, he thought, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Sanji-sama, please! Let us cook for you, royalty shouldn’t have to—with this rusty, old equipment no less—”

“Nope,” Sanji said, raising one hand to silence the panicking cook. “Thanks for the concern but I’m a first-rate chef, not a prince.”

“But—”

“By the way, is the pantry still in the back?” Sanji asked, cutting the protests off before they could really start.

“Yes, sir.” The cook visibly deflated as he answered and Sanji huffed.

He supposed it was too much to ask for them to drop the formalities entirely. Shaking his head, Sanji thanked the man before making his way to the pantry—a route he could still walk blind, even after all these years. He could almost feel young Sanji’s heart racing in excitement from being allowed to walk in and grab ingredients for the first time.

Still innocent, still not realizing he was about to get himself—and the head chef—punished.

Royalty must not cook!

The angry words echoed in his mind despite no one speaking them, forever ingrained deep within him. He never understood the words, never even thought to adhere to them despite the inevitable backlash. Despite the hate and disgust and pain.

Even at six years old, he refused to give this up. And now, at twenty-one… there was no point living if he couldn’t step foot into a kitchen again.

Why was he thinking about this anyway?

Shaking his head, Sanji chased his fath—Vinsmoke Judge’s words away. Instead, he focused his gaze on what was in the pantry, his eyes scanning the contents. He hummed appreciatively at the quality of the food stored inside—even if the kitchenware and appliances were utter shit, at least no expenses were spared on the ingredients.

Not that Sanji would have any trouble working with shit-quality food, but it certainly made his life easier.

Grabbing two bananas, several eggs, some flour and sugar, and a few select spices, Sanji left the pantry again, closing the door behind him with his foot. He almost expected the old head chef to start freaking out, fretting over Sanji balancing too many things at once.

And honestly, he was right. When he was a kid, he’d barely had any idea what he was doing, always overestimating how much he would be able to carry without dropping anything or hurting himself. A smile on his lips, Sanji wished the old man could see him now, handling everything with ease. The last time they saw each other, it came with a complementary trip to the infirmary to get a bad cut treated.

He left everything on the kitchen counter to head for the fridge, mumbling to himself as he listed off the ingredients he still needed. It’d been so long since he made this combination of foods: grilled fish with some fresh bread, scrambled eggs, and banana flambé for dessert. All her favorite foods.

He would have wanted to add a small scoop of vanilla ice cream as well but since that would melt, he decided against it. Maybe he should make some mini apple tarts too while he was at it?

Oh, should he make some fried rice? He didn’t see any mice around but he was sure there were some hungry critters scurrying about. Even though he wasn’t there to make food for them anymore…

“Man, what am I thinking,” Sanji muttered to himself, sighing deeply. There was no way the mice he had befriended all those years ago would still be alive after all these years. Mice simply did not live that long.

But…

Well, what was the harm in cooking a little more than needed?

—————

A bouquet of flowers in one hand, a picnic basket in the other, Sanji made his way towards the far corner of the Germa main ship. It was quiet, hidden from view by trees and bushes—trees that had become much larger, bushes that had been left to grow, unkempt in the years of his absence.

Seeing the state of the garden, Sanji half expected to find his destination completely taken over by vegetation but instead, he was surprised to find the gravestone perfectly clean, only with a tiny, impromptu bundle of flowers in front of it, one made up of the wild plants growing in this small, hidden garden-turned-park.

Probably Reiju, Sanji thought to himself, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Hi, mom,” he said quietly as he carefully placed his own bouquet next to Reiju’s. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you sooner.”

He took a deep breath, willing his voice to stay steady. How pathetic; a grown ass man, getting all choked up at being by the grave of someone who had died over fourteen years ago…

“Zoro would have a fucking field day seeing me like this…” he muttered to himself, rubbing at his eyes. He hated how he suddenly missed the insufferable nicknames and annoying demands for booze.

He would take a fight with the Marimo over one second on Germa’s soil any day. Those were actually fun, if infuriating sometimes.

“You know, mom… I think you’d love the pirate crew I’m a part of. Luffy is so goddamn selfish and can inhale a month’s worth of meat before you can blink but he's always so happy with anything I make. It's fun cooking for him. Zoro is an ass and we fight constantly but he can tell the difference between good and shitty rice and as opposed to Torao, he doesn't throw a fit when I experiment with his rice balls. Nami-san never got to teach me how to make her special tangerine sauce… I could figure it out myself but I’d rather die than intrude like that…

“Usopp likes fish just the way you did and honestly it threw me off at first. Chopper. You'd love Chopper so much. He's like a stuffed animal who feeds on chocolate. We'd all be long dead without him.

"I like making Robin-chan's coffee and sandwiches when she's studying in the evening. She's the smartest person I've ever known; she could destroy Vinsmoke Judge in a second. Except she's not a piece of shit like him.

"Then there's Franky… if I wasn't there to feed him something decent, he would probably just eat junk food. And Brook, my god Brook. Mom, his table manners. His fucking table manners. It doesn't matter how many times I kick his boney ass, he still gets curry everywhere.

"And Jinbe—"

Sanji stopped suddenly, cutting his monologue short. Jinbe was their crewmate but…

"I guess I won't learn anything about him now, will I? I'm stuck here. With these shitty cuffs on my hands…"

He gulped heavily, clenching his shaky fists. He really was a fly caught in a spiderweb, wasn't he? Complete with his movements restricted, death lingering just at the edge of his vision, helpless.

Helpless, powerless… hopeless.

"Shit…” Sanji took a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily before he dared speak quietly again. “Mom, I don't know what to do…"

But were there really any options left for him? The path was set the moment his wanted poster changed from Dead or Alive to Only Alive. There was no other way forward; no Baratie, no Merry, and no Sunny. No All Blue.

There was nothing but Germa 66, the family he had long since stopped considering a family, and Pudding-chan.

"At least with Pudding-chan, I'll be able to keep cooking. There would be no point living anymore if I couldn't… I want to keep cooking for my crew but Pudding-chan doesn't deserve me making that her problem.”

Sanji paused then, almost as if waiting for his mom to reply. But he knew that was impossible, knew no one would answer. He wasn’t sure he even wanted anyone to answer. Not when he was being so… so lame.

But in the face of his mother’s grave, the grave of the one person he could let himself be vulnerable with when he was a child… it was impossible to keep the facade up. He was tired. Tired of pretending, tired of staying strong, tired of saying he was ‘fine’.

And yet…

“But I’m fine, mom, don’t worry. I didn’t actually explain, did I? Pudding-chan is the girl I’m going to marry. She’s the Emperor Big Mom’s daughter but she’s very cute and very sweet. I might introduce her to you one day…” Or maybe he wouldn’t. He wasn’t so sure he’d even want his real family here—never mind a girl he met once, no matter how nice she was. He supposed time would tell.

As he tried to reach for his cigarettes, Sanji was suddenly reminded of the picnic basket in his hand. He blinked a few times, his gaze dropping to stare blankly at the small woven carrier, wondering how the hell he had managed to forget the most important thing, and he chuckled awkwardly.

“Ah, I hate talking about myself. But—” he paused, fumbling with the basket to pull out the items inside. “I brought you something. You know, I… After I ran away from here, I became a cook. A real, first-rate chef thanks to the shitty old man. My dad—you know, my actual dad—taught me everything I know so my cooking is actually real damn good. So…”

Sanji set the basket carefully on the ground, placing a small black, lacquered box in front of the grave before slowly opening it to reveal the carefully arranged contents of the lunch box—scrambled eggs, grilled fish, bread, and banana flambé.

“Do you remember? I made this for you once. Messed up real bad too. Then I dropped it and it got soaked in the rain, turning it completely inedible,” Sanji said with a genuine laugh. “I still remember Epony’s face when she tasted it.” He was sure he would never forget the face that twisted with disgust and pain from the awful, downright horrible, amount and mix of spices.

Shaking his head, he continued, “I know what I’m doing now though, so I added some bread and vegetables to make it actually feel like a meal,” Sanji pointed out, gesturing to the freshly baked bread that was hopefully still warm, as well as the carrots, radishes, and cucumbers cut and carefully styled into flowers. “Also here—” he added, turning back to the picnic basket to pull out the wine glass and a bottle of the best damn red wine he could find in Yonji’s shittily supplied wine cellar, pouring a perfectly measured glass for her with practiced ease.

A soft smile was still playing on his lips when he spoke his next words. “I know last time I did a terrible job but I—thank you for saying it was delicious back then.”

—————

Reiju wasn't sure how long she was standing behind one of the trees in the overgrown garden that had turned into a park around their mother's grave, waiting for Sanji. She wasn't sure… but she didn't really care. It had been thirteen years since she had helped Sanji escape from this place, thirteen years of Sanji living his own life like he was meant to. She was sure he had a lot to tell their mom, a lot to share about the East Blue, about Straw Hat, and about his friends.

For a while, Reiju wondered whether she should tell him they had come for him… but with Sanji's kindness, he would end up blaming himself for putting them in danger. And Sanji didn't deserve that; not when he was already being put through this foolish marriage plan of their father's.

And so, Reiju didn’t say anything; didn’t say anything when they met, didn’t say anything on their walk here, and she wouldn’t say anything later either.

For now… she would simply let him talk to mom as much as he wanted to and she would be there for him as long as she could throughout this whole mess, looking for a chance to let him escape again, just like she did years ago. After all, the cuffs on his wrist weren’t going to explode and on the off chance that Straw Hat would make it all the way to the very heart of Totto Land, there wouldn’t be any reason for him to stay—as long as Reiju could make sure the hostages in the East Blue were kept safe and as long as Sanji’s kindness didn’t keep him chained to Germa and this family.

Reiju waited for Sanji for a long time, left only with her thoughts and the faint sounds of their soldiers training. There really was nowhere to escape the military aspect in this kingdom, was there?

Shaking her head to make herself focus, Reiju quickly put her usual smile on her lips—the one that showed nothing of her real thoughts, one practiced to perfection over the long years of living with her father and brothers—before she turned to face Sanji once more as he approached her.

“Told her everything you wanted to?” Reiju asked, not commenting on the vulnerable expression on her brother’s face.

“Yeah,” Sanji replied quietly.

His eyes dropped downwards then and briefly, Reiju wondered whether he was hiding from her. But then he reached inside the picnic basket, pulling out a second, smaller lunch box and handed it to her wordlessly.

Reiju blinked. Her gaze fell to the box she was holding, then turned back to Sanji, who only gestured with his chin, prompting her to open it.

With a huff, Reiju carefully lifted the lid, peeking inside curiously… and soon, the corners of her mouth twitched upwards, her smile widening into a rare genuine, happy one. “Apple tarts?” she asked as if she couldn’t see them. “I can’t believe you remembered I like apples.”

“A good chef takes note and remembers their customers’ favorites,” Sanji noted with a shrug as if it were obvious.

And maybe it was, if this were any other family. But with the Vismokes… Reiju was used to no one besides Cosette even remembering she was deathly allergic to peanuts. After all, as long as it didn’t affect her battle performance, what did it matter?

“Thank you,” Reiju whispered.

“Yeah.” Sanji nodded, then paused, seemingly mulling over his words—or maybe looking for them. “Thank you, too.”

Reiju didn’t reply. She simply picked up one of the little tarts in her lunch box, taking a bite.

She had never tasted an apple so sweet.

#one piece #sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sora #reiju #vinsmoke reiju #fluff #hurt/comfort #family #zines #zine stuff #katie pretends to fic #blonds zine #idk what to say here i'm so tired ararf

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mythrite · 2 months

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An Interview with Sergeant Switchblade

“…oh it’s you again.”

“Correct. Go on, take a seat.”

“Now, I believe it’s time to let the viewers know something about you, no?”

“Right. Yeah. Could ya give me your name first—I know we see each other all the time but you never said anythin’ ‘bout it.”

“Silvia. Silvia Mythrite.”

“…Same name?”

“Mhm. It’s a complicated explanation but to keep it short my boss created you… and me. Yeah, she isn’t the best with naming.”

”Huh… aight let’s just get this damn interview over with.”

“Okay Sergeant Mythrite… you’d prefer Switchblade instead?”

“Switch. I believe that’s best for those viewers.”

“Alright, Switch. Let’s start simple. Tell us about yourself and your skills in the military.”

“Uhm… Well I’m good at pretty much everythin’… snipin’, rough and shitty terrains, clearing’, demolitions… not as good as Soap of course. Definitely lean more into close quarters shite, though.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how good are you at all that?”

“Giving one is just some Joe, and ten is an expert… I’d say somewhere five to seven. Close quarters’ a solid nine.”

”You use that butterfly knife for that stuff?”

“Nah… she ain’t one for constant stabbing. But she likes a little blood every now an’ then. Butterfly knife is last resort.”

“Damn. Now, let’s get it over with…”

“…don’t tell me.”

“Your past. They’d love to know.”

”Fuck… fine.”

“Born normal enough, only child, lil’ suburbs an’ stuff. Didn’t really… have much of what people consider a childhood. Lacklustre—think that’s what people describe it as.”

“What about the holidays? Parents must’ve done something about those.”

“Barely a celebration, maybe a decoration or two. But none of that Santa… or trick an’ treatin’… think ya get the idea.”

”Yeah… parents were… there. Just there. Did the bare minimum of parentin’.”

“Then I turned thirteen.”

“Ah… you ready to tell that?”

“Well sheiße, yer gon’ keep buggin’ me ‘bout it until I do.”

“Fair enough.”

“Turned thirteen. Father decided it was time to prep me for the military early, and it wasn’t like I could do shite ‘bout it. Miserable, really. Treatin’ me less like the daughter than he already saw me as…”

”It… wasn’t a fun three years. He wouldn’t let me see my few friends, and I never tried talkin’ to them since then. Felt even more disconnected, didn’t know that could happen.”

“Suppose I’m a super soldier… think that’s the term.”

“God… how far do I gotta go ‘bout this?”

“That’s alright for now… let’s move onto your time actually serving.”

“Forcefully enlisted at 16, surprised they weren’t caught for abuse, really. And that’s… the last I saw of them.”

“Let’s keep it that way.”

“Aight so that’s the first time in a long while that I actually talked with other people… but I was skilled thanks to… the training.”

“Rose the ranks decently fast. Joined Special Air once I was old enough to…”

“Then Price recruited me to 141, an’ here we are.”

“Has being in Task Force 141 been beneficial to you?”

“Yes, actually. Father said a lot of things back then that I can’t get out. Seein’ an’ talkin’ to people brought me back to humanity… to the best ability. And now, too—the closeness of the Task Force helps me… live I suppose.”

“Guess 141 saved me from losing whatever was left of me, eh?”

“Thank you, Switch. You went along with this better than I was expecting.”

“We done ‘ere now?”

“Yes. You are allowed to head back to base.”

“Fuckin’ hell, finally…”

[END RECORDING]

TLDR: Switch barely had a childhood and was forced into military training when she was 13.

No, she shoves the trauma down she is NOT fine.

#cod #call of duty #cod oc #cod original character #call of duty oc #call of duty original character #sergeant switchblade #oc interview #tf 141 #task force 141 #oc lore #lore!#mythwrite

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esteemedproblem · 1 year

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Eridan & Roxy

[Plain text: Eridan & Roxy]

This is a friend of our favorite ship, which we haven't thought about till now, but like I get it. Roxy is what Eridan wishes he could be, and Roxy has enough energy to fuel both of them into wizard nerd loving heaven.

Eridan and Roxy are so close to being the same one. they just got a shitty seahorse dad and a lot of expectations, and the other got isolation and alcoholism.

Eridan, a kid who used to just be a huge nerd liking wizards who had to go out and hunt people's parents and random lusus. Has a moirail who is just straight up using him Feferi had no intention of ever actually being his moirail just wanted him to do as she wanted when I'm sure there were other violets to do the job. Or ya know she could have done it herself. Was he an asshole yea but also like the rest of them he was a thirteen year old with a lot of responsibility and expectations to live up to. If he actually wanted to do half the shit he threatened, he wouldn't ask Equius to make a million different world ending machines he could have just waited an extra ten minutes at feeding glubglub. None of his friends had to deal with his bullshit but he really needed someone, and Karkat got to him far too late to change anything.

Then we have Roxy over here surrounded by people that she can't understand and avoid her. Half her friends think she's insane because they refuse to believe the truth she is living. The last friend that believes her because he is in the same hell is a mile away from his own emotions, and half the time, she gets left with Hal who is sweet but just a reminder that Dirk would rather work than respond to his friends including her. Again, it becomes an alcoholic at sixteen if not earlier because what else is she supposed to do while she waits for the world to end. Plus having to hope the drones don't come and wipe her out before then.

Neither of these kids have the friendships they need. Then let's present them with each other. Both love wizards, Roxy is a tech genius which will help with Eridan's Magic vs Science guess what? You can have both! They are gender. There is this one art piece where they are both wearing girl boy wizard shirts, and Roxy has wizard checked, and Eridan has all three checked, and they're correct. Roxy would show him what it's like to be yourself freely, and Eridan's clingy ass would make sure Roxy never felt alone again. I'm leaning more towards moirails for them, but Pale/Flushed is also very good. Let them be besties with the most kick ass fashion sense and most confusing genders. Hell, even a human qpr where they get married for the tax benefits and own ten cats together sounds like perfection. They deserve to be happy ♡

#eriroxy #roxy lalonde #eridan ampora #eridan x roxy #roxy x eridan #jests hs ship hell #a ship that sounds strange at first but makes so much sense

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em1989ts · 2 hours

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𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆

five hargreeves x reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: after discovering your husband cheated on you with his brother's wife, you run off to a different timeline using the subway, only to find a deli crowded with a familiar face.

author's note: this is my first fic that i'm actually posting lol, if anyone sees this i'll be totally shocked

“Just leave me alone, Five.”

You were speed walking down the steps into what looked like an abandoned subway, desperately trying to avoid the man you thought you knew, who was currently right on your tail.

“Not until you talk to me, y/n,” he pleaded, swiftly trying to catch up.

“There’s nothing to discuss, Five,” you said in a cold manner.

You just couldn’t speak to him. Not after what just happened in the living room with him and Diego. After what was just brought to light.

You wanted to laugh, you really did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

Why would you hear him out? Why would he believe he had a right to explain himself? How could he? A marriage of over half a century, down the drain. And for what?

Seven years with her.

Lila.

His brother’s wife. The mother of his brother’s children. The child of the couple he assassinated.

It made no sense.

You angrily sped up and quickly got onto the train that was stopped at the station. It’s white light making you more stressed than you already were.

The doors shut in his face. Just a couple more seconds and he would’ve been on this train. You would’ve been stuck having to hear him try and save face until the next stop.

Sometimes the universe lets you win.

But why not this time.

You stared at him through the window of the subway car doors. He looked at you pleadingly. You looked at him disappointedly.

Who was he, because he sure as hell wasn’t the Five you had known since you were thirteen years old. Stuck in the apocalypse with nothing but ashes and him.

You had thought it was fate. You and him were meant to be stuck together, meant to be there for each other. Even after everything that’s happened. Apocalypse after apocalypse after apocalypse.

The subway started to move. You stayed standing, staring at him with daggers in your eyes until he was out of sight. He didn’t chase after the car, he knew it was pointless. He knew he’d never get you back. He didn’t deserve you.

Once the outside of the train was completely dark and all you could see was your own reflection in the window, you turned and took a seat. Hands in your lap, looked straight ahead, drained.

What were you supposed to do now? Where would you go?

Maybe this train would take you to a universe with a Five that could never dream of betraying you the way your own did.

The lights shone over you as you were deep in thought. You had no idea where this train would take you, when it would take you.

Suddenly, the car slowed to a gradual stop and the doors opened. You wanted to stay on, maybe pass by hundreds of stops until you actually got off the train but you heard footsteps passing by the station.

Something in the back of your mind told you to get off at this stop, that you would find something important.

You stood and slipped through the doors. As soon as you turned your head to scan your surroundings, that’s when you saw him.

How could he have gotten here before you?

Five was casually walking towards a set of stairs when he saw you and stopped in his tracks.

You glared and felt a flame arise in you as you stomped over to him.

“I told you to leave me alone, Five. What the hell are you doing here?” you pointed an angry, accusatory finger in his face but he just grabbed your hand and gently held it in his.

You were confused, he seemed different. Less guilty. More sentimental.

Your anger faltered as he stared into your eyes with an admiration you were already starting to miss.

“y/n,” he said sincerely, “it’s been so long.”

Of course he wasn’t your Five. You had just jumped onto a multi-dimensional subway for Christ’s sake.

“Come on, follow me,” he said as guided you towards a stairwell.

As you descended and turned a corner, warm glowing lights filled your sight. A warming, comforting sense of nostalgia flooded your senses. You looked up and read the lights on the sign, Max’s Delicatessen, as the Five you stumbled across led you inside. The sound of a familiar vintage tune filled your ears.

Immediately, you felt all eyes travel to your frame. Every single pupil in this room belonged to a Five. The man you never wanted to see again. Each one of them looked at you with a shocked and astounded expression.

The Five still holding your hand paid no attention and directed you into a booth seat.

As you sat down, you took in your surroundings. The Fives behind the counter preparing food, the Fives taking orders, the Five delivering food, the Fives whispering at tables.

There were so many of them, what was this place?

The Five sitting across from you looks in your eyes with a knowing look.

“It’s not often we get one of you around here.”

You shake out of your confused thoughts and reply, “And what exactly is this place?”

Before you can get a reply, a waiter Five comes up to the table and places two mugs of coffee in front of you and Five. Before he leaves, he places a couple cups of creamer and packets of sugar next to your mug.

Without answering your question, the Five in front of you smiles and says, “We keep those in the kitchen and not on the tables since it’s really rare to see you.”

You give him an annoyed look.

“Can you explain to me what’s going on?”

“Right,” he sat up a little straighter and took a sip of his coffee. “You hopped on a subway that took you to an alternate timeline. That timeline just so happens to hold a place where us Fives come after we’ve stopped trying to fix the problem.” He largely gestured to the room full of alternate versions of your husband. Ex husband.

You stared at him for a few seconds, your brain rattled with questions, before you spoke.

“Stopped trying? You mean trying to save the world?”

“Stopped trying to fix the broken timeline,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“The broken timeline?” you repeated in confusion.

“There’s only supposed to be one, and I’ll bet you can guess who shattered the original timeline.”

Before you could reply, you heard a bell as another Five yelled out, “We did.”

Five made a disapproving yet knowing face as he called back, “Why you always gotta wreck shit, Brisket Five?”

Brisket Five shrugged at him then winked at you before returning back to his work.

“Okay . .” you started, trying to come up with the right questions, “So, our existence is the cause of the broken timeline. Is that why there’s constantly an apocalypse?”

“Precisely,” Five responds, before gesturing to the framed pictures on the wall. “By the way, check out the artwork. All the different ways we made our universe go kaboom.”

You stare at the photographs on the wall, noticing both familiar doomsday and entirely unique ones. Once your eyes reach a certain point along the wall you notice some framed images of you. Different photos of you and Five, living your lives together throughout the timelines.

The Five across from you notices your curious glimpse.

“I mentioned we don’t often see you around here,” he explains. “It’s because it’s rare that you survive your timeline.”

You quickly turned back to him in response to his statement. You don’t survive? How many of the Fives in this room have lost their y/n? Has the Five in front of you lost his?

“What do you mean?”

“You and I will always meet, in every timeline throughout the universe. It just seems that fate doesn’t always take our side,” he says solemnly as he looks down at his mug.

A Five piped up from the booth behind you, “My y/n was killed by the Swedes back in Dallas.”

Another from a couple tables away said, “Mine died in the apocalypse, but we had a good thirty years together.”

The Five in front of you looked up at you and said, “In my timeline, the Handler shot you and you died in my arms. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

He gave you such a genuine look. Like he’s felt shame and guilt for so long, his apology was heartbreaking. How could these Fives care so much about you, while your Five forgot all about you.

“It’s okay,” you looked at him truthfully and took his hand in your, “I’m sure none of your y/ns would ever blame you for their fate, but they would for giving up. They’d want you to keep going, stay strong and do what it takes to save your family and the world. That’s what they loved most about you.”

You felt bad placing blame on him but you didn’t understand how the man who has spent his whole life prioritizing the safety of his family and overcoming countless obstacles and stopping at nothing to save his family could just give up. Sure it was tiring, but that was the life the two of you lived, together.

He smiled at you so lovingly it crumbled your heart.

“Y/n, the doomsdays will never stop coming. The only way to end this constant cycle of saving and destroying the world is if our family ceases to exist.”

Your heart slowed its beating as you stared at your interlocked hands, contemplating.

You hated to admit it but he made sense. Whenever your family is all together, everything goes to shit. People always die and the world will always end.

Before you could respond, you heard the door swing open and a tense tone fell over the deli.

The Five across from you held your hands a bit tighter as he glanced up at the Five that had rushed in.

Your Five.

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #brisket five #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves headcanons #brisket five x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreaves x reader #number five #number five fanart #five hargreeves angst #number five x reader #tua fandom #tua five #five hargreeves x you

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thekiltongrammarwriter · 4 months

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OMG YOUR PIP FICTS GIVE ME LIFE….😭😭 A big Andie Bell fan here, saw your Andie series and wanted to know if we could get a sneak peek? Andie Bell mean girls vibes? 🤭 🫶🫶🫶😩

Why hello!! Thank you for the kind compliment love! I love your profile fic! Em with the baby goats what more could you want? 🤣 Andie needs a lot of love and I just happen to be writing something about Andie a few days ago. It’s far from being finished, it’s more about how deep friendship can turn into love? But with Andie being her Complex and narcissistic self? Hope you enjoy it love. Thoughts are welcome. It’s an early draft so it might be edited to be something later on. 🫶 (it’s fairly horny…a lot of people know my thoughts about my girl Andie) it’s Also a hurt/comfort fic so it’s suppose to feel like as sucker punch. Pt 2 to my Andie fic

"Oh my gosh Andie are these the brand new shoes you got from Harrods??" Chloe's shriek is enough to send a high pitch ring through your ears, you shriek back, holding a single finger to the damage cartilage. You sighed as you made your way down the familiar steps of the Bell household, knowing that it would be empty. The bell house was always empty these days, Mrs Bell was off doing her motherly duties and Mr Bell was off to god knows where, which you were more than thankful for. You had never quite gotten over the prickly sick feeling that would weld in your gut when you would eye Jason bell. Watch his gray blue eyes and his calm eerie demeanor that made you want to take Andie by the hand and drag her out of the hell hole.

You also never quite forgot that day in the sycamore tree. Just you and Andie, the day where Andie had held your hand so tightly you thought it would break. Had held it tight and hadn't ever let go. She had told you things about her family, secrets that you would carry to the grave. You knew about Jason and his frequent affairs, knew that Dawn Bell was a woman with a painted smile, knew that Becca Bell harbored such disdain for her father it often portrayed itself in harmful acts but perhaps the most powerful impact had been Andie.

Things had changed since that day on the sycamore tree. First of all you both were no longer eight years old, gone was the soft Andie bell you had known, and in her place was a tempest, a storm. Cruel words dripped from her lips like acid rain, and you wondered how the same heart that once held yours so gently could now wield a blade. Andie was just as cold and quick to bite, she was a narcissist, in every word. You knew that even back when you had first met her, but that hadn't mattered to you. Not then.But now you weren't so sure.

"Are we boring you y/n? You look like you've seen a ghost! Got a lot on your mind?" Chloe's voice broke into your head. Instinctively your eyes caught sight of the girl, you knew the feeling of being eyed by Andie bell all to well . Like a seat in the back of your neck. She was sitting at her vanity, lips neatly covered in crimson lipstick, but her eyes were on you.

Watching you with those analytical eyes that still made your heart pound and your stomach clench. You scoffed, a fake laugh. "No... no your not boring me Chloe. It's just um-" you wet your lips, looking everywhere but Andie. You eyed your watch, taking notice of the fact that Andie had done this on purpose. Ever since you both entered year 10 and you had tried out for the school's drama team and had met a certain blonde hair by the name of Nat De Silva Andie was always finding some unique way to sabotage it.

You don't know how it started, this hold that Andie had on you. That was a lie you told yourself, you knew just when it had happened. That day on the sycamore tree, when Andie had cried real tears, and you saw the real broken little girl hiding under that tough little pufferfish act she had put on for others. As the years went on you stayed by Andie’s side, stayed through the soft subtle changes. When Andie hit thirteen she was no longer the girl who climbed sycamore's. She traded in her trainers for heels, her laughter for a cool indifference. The sycamore tree became off-limits, and you watched from afar as she became a stranger. She cared about her looks, would buy makeup and cute little outfits that made your head spin. She'd snap and say things to Chloe and Emma, things that made your stomach coil in rage.

"Why don't you just shut up Chloe?? No one wants to hear about your pathetic family life!"

"Oh em, when will you learn that you won't ever look like me?"

Or the one that made your ears burn red.

"God Chloe what's wrong with you?? Besides the obvious surface flaws?" You remember that day, watching Andie spit out the words in the canteen. She looked different, angry, her eyes held no warmth in them, devoid of the frost blue color you had grown to love. Yet when it came to you it was like Andie flipped a switch. She was never rude to you, never shot you down or made you cry like the others. Perhaps it was because of the bond you shared. But she was quick to eye anyone who got near you, Andie bell had a jealous streak and when it came to you it was hard to contain.

So when Nat de Silva had taken you aside after drama it had taken not even a minute before Andie was by your side, blue clever conniving eyes eying Nat, like a predator eying prey. "Who was that? That girl you were just taking too? She seemed keen on you, a bit to touchy for my liking".

You had creases your eyes and eyed Andie. "Just a new friend. Met her in drama. No need to get all upset".

"I am not upset I was just wondering who was taking up all your time. Let's go, the girls are waiting" she had taken you by your shoulders.

Andie told you she disliked Nat because she was stealing the attention, her attention, Andie hated how everyone seemed to gravitate to her, but you also knew it was because Nat de Silva was fond of you. And perhaps you were too.

You had told Andie you needed to be back at the school for a read through and Andie had assured you with a soft charming smile and eager eyes that she would get you back. You had believed her, but now as you eyed your watch you knew she had done it on purpose. Some sick way of getting back at Nat. It made your stomach sick with the thought, but what made it worse was the soft subtle smile that Andie sent your way. And you dreaded how even though you felt anger you couldn't help but feel the pricking hot heat that swirled at in your gut at Andie's smile.

Because it was hot. It shouldn't have been. It made your body warm and would cause dreams at night, would make you stifle soft moans into your bed sheets as you thought of Andie and her blue eyes, tongue dripping in your panties. Andie knew you fancied her, knew it the day you both had kissed for “fun" at thirteen and you didn't talk for days.

had been the one to laugh and say it didn't mean anything. But it did. You knew it did for her too. Even though she would never say it, it was in her eyes. The way she would step in front of you when a boy was near, would drape her arms over you and eye any boy with a glare so deadly you would shriek back too.

"I've got to be somewhere. I'm running late and I'm worried I won't make it on time" you mumble out, fishing your keys out of your pocket, your halfway to the door when Andie's voice springs into the air, soft and sweet and you hate how your body reacts. Halts like she's your master, your puppateer.

Perhaps she is.

"You'll be back right for the sleepover won't you y/ n??".

You hate how quickly you answer, your mouth having a brain if it's own.

"I don't know...l might-" Andie cuts you off, her voice sickly sick. It drops into your veins like acid honey.

"I was thinking of having the girls bring some sleeping bags, but I remember you mentioning you didn't have one. You wouldn't mind sharing my bed would you? I promise I won't bite".

You feel the air get sucked out of your lungs at the prospect of sharing Andie bell's bed. And the fact that no other girl had been given the opportunity.

Andie's smirk was wide, her eyes eying you, you pretended not to notice the sly eye fuck she gave you, blue grey's zeroing in on your skirt. You eyed the floor, "I'll see you when I see you Andie. Enjoy the rest of the sleep over girls". You didn't miss the way Andie's eyes darkened.

#agggtm #Andie Bell #Andie bell being my complex girl #mean girl Andie bell being a downfall #girl ive always been

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kittynannygaming · 7 months

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[The Sandman] Bound - Chapter 6

Title: Bound

Word count: 551

Fandom: The Sandman

Pairing: Dreamling, Desunity, Despoe, Hob/Eleanor, Corinthiel, Dream/Past relationships

Rated: T

Warning: NOTHING GRAPHIC BUT Mention of child’s death and adults’ death, mention of suicide, Desire’s scheming

Summary: When you’re 10 (for a human) or the equivalent (for not-human), you’re given (during your sleep) a pet, representation of your soulmate. Thing is, both soulmates need to be born for them to appear. Dream of the Endless thought he didn’t have a soulmate, until a puppy appear near to him while meditating. On Earth, at the same moment, it is the year 1356 and Robert ‘Hob’ Gadling is just born. When he’s 10, he got the poshest, biggest black kitten with a very mean streak. Of course, neither Dream nor Hob see themselves in the other’s pet.

Chapter 06: The (many) errors of the Burgess family while dealing with Dream of the Endless and his companion.

Honestly, it’s like they weren’t even trying.

The first mistake was Roderick’s. Trying to capture Death? Really? Like it ever ended well for anyone who tried…

Here in the darkness. I give you a coin made from a stone. Here in the darkness. I give you a knife from under the hills, and I give you the blood from out of my vein. Here in the darkness. I give you a song I stole from the dirt, and I give you a feather pulled from an angel's wing, for you to lift up into the heavens. Here in the darkness. (x6) I summon you with poison. Here in the darkness. Here in the darkness. I summon you with pain. Here in the darkness. Here in the darkness. I open the way, I open the gates. Here in the darkness. Here in the darkness. I summon you in the names of the old lords. Namtar, Allatu, Morax… Maborym calls you. Horvendile calls you. We summon you together. Come!

So, in his eagerness to have his son Randall back, he did the summoning but somehow he managed to not understand correctly most of the ritual. It was the problem with invocation and magic in general: depending on how long the ritual was in circulation, the meaning of some words could be completely different.

For example, the Magdalene Grimoire. Magdalene was translated as a first name. But it wasn’t a person name. The title should have been “The Tower Grimoire”, because that where most of the rituals should be done. At the top of a tower, under the night sky (for most of them).

The “coin made of stone” wasn’t a coin/money. It was supposed to be read as the literal sense of the word corner or wedge. It was supposed to be ‘la pierre angulaire’, the base, of the ritual, what make the ritual stable and perfect. A foundation stone.

From there everything went downhill.

There was only one “knife from under the hills”. The knife of Llawfrodedd the Horseman. No other knife would do. The knife was one of the thirteen treasures of the island of Britain and, like all the treasures, were hidden in Avalon. Good luck to take something from there.

He got the blood of his vein right.

The song stolen from the dirt was, also, a bad translation.

How did he got an angel wing stay a mystery. It was, in reality, a ‘feather, from an angel’s wing, who has fallen from the heavens’. Death wasn’t linked officialy to Heaven, Hell or any other afterlife places. Except for the Sunless lands. “Here in the Darkness” indeed.

And finally, he should have summoned first the deities/demons he named in the ritual. After all “We summon you together”.

So, Roderick butchered the ritual and got Dream instead of Death. At this time, the third Endless was at his weakest.

Alexander could have been better. Maybe in another universe he was. But unfortunately for him, in this one, he wasn’t. He had a companion, a belgian malinois named Leaf. Later, he would know that his soulmate was Paul, who has a rabbit as companion named Hide. No matter what the three others would tell him, his fear would win over his reason.

It would take a long time for Dream & Kelly to get out but they did.

Grimoire & Circle

Beta: In progress

For @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang

Masterlist

#KittyNanny Original Post #KittyNanny Original Work #The Sandman #Fanfiction #Title: Bound #Centennial Husbands Big Bang #Centennial Husbands Big Bang 2023 #Roderick Burgess #Alex Burgess #Dreamling

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joyce-stick · 2 years

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Audrey's Best Girls Winter 2023

youtube

Video of recommendations of girls (And media) which halfway through turned into a Bocchi the Rock video essay.

Transcript under the cut.

Previous video essay/transcript: Adachi and Shimamura's Second Season

If you're on desktop, you may find this more comfy to read directly on our Tumblr site.

If you enjoy this essay, please consider following us here or on any other platforms, and/or donating to support future works via our Patreon or Ko-fi.

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Hello everyone, it’s Audrey. So, it’s been some time, I was writing a script about problematic things, and then Joyce came along and started a separate script about things we had to recommend. I finished that script, and the end result of this process was a great incoherent mess, so I’m taking it from the top.

First thing we have to talk about today is Moonshine!~

Moonshine is a doujin visual novel produced by the now seemingly dissolved doujin circle Sakura Mint, whose origins I don’t have the resources nor Japanese language knowledge to trace any information about. It was released in 2007, and then translated to English in 2008, and, quite frankly, the fact that a freely available English translation exists for easy online downloading is a goddamn miracle. It’s really short, like, about an hour, or two if you’re slow like we are. Nonetheless, this VN made us cry like a little baby child. The reason for that being, it’s about a trans girl. And the other reason for that being, it’s about a trans girl falling in love with a gender ambiguous main protagonist who is, well, gosh, really.

This is a really raw and emotionally powerful little story with a really strong theme of how to move on with your life. From a life where you didn’t belong or weren’t loved, or from a life that you love but that can’t follow you, and how either can be equally painful, how change is always painful, even if it truly is for the better, and it’s just a whole lot of feelings. A story that made us cry this much needs to be read. The English version is available freely, it’s only a bit of time, and it’s very well worth it. You might need to fuck around with your graphics settings to get it to display in proper 4 by 3 if you want to play it in fullscreen without it stretching to 16 by 9, but still, very very worth it. Probably one of the best pieces of queer fiction that we’ve ever read, and the fact that it got translated the year after its release is incredible.

It also has a sequel, called Tsugi no Terasu, which is probably not called “Sunshine” in English because that’s not what the kanji means. This sequel never got any sort of digital release either officially or otherwise and it looks as if the doujin group that made it has long disbanded given that the web domain name they used to occupy is now populated by casino advertisements, sooo all their work is probably just kind of, gone, unfortunately. As is often the case when independently produced niche media exists and no one is doing any work to preserve it. These things just sort of go and vanish.

Unless it hasn’t vanished, and someone does care! Like, I dunno, the girl reading this. I dunno about y’all, but I’d prefer that this thirteen year old VN that’s a sequel to a sixteen year old VN about a trans girl gets to be read, by someone, and hopefully continue to exist, and not evaporate into the mists of time. Sure, we can’t read it, but, details details. We’ll learn! How to read. I hope.

So I found a copy of Tsugi no Terasu for sale on akibaoo. Presumably this copy’s used, and there’s no guarantee it’ll work with our computer, or that it won’t be scratched to hell, but hey, you have to take some chances sometime in life. So, I bought it, with a portion of our, uh, meager, monthly Patreon earnings, so that we can collect it and take some form of action to preserve it in some form. Because this is what we’re supposed to do. I know we don’t have that much money, I know we’re probably going to have to eat a lot of rice for another month, but, what the hell, are we doing this youtube shit for, if not this shit? And I for one, am tired of watching hazel do all the awesome Japanese media preservation actions. I would like to have some of that glory! Somehow.

And that’s the thing.

So if you’d like to support the thing, that is to say, acquiring and assessing niche subcultural Japanese media so that we can talk about it and maybe help make it accessible to other people, and making video essays about these exploits and our emotional discoveries from them, or whatever else we do, which all apparently comes ahead of eating a proper diet because we’re insane… then please, please, donate money to us via Ko-fi, Patreon, or whatever. You will be rewarded in some way, I assure you, unless you don’t feel rewarded, and then you won’t.

So here, I’m gonna tell y’all about other interesting content that we’ve had a look at.

Witch from mercury!

Okay so I had a whole thing written about this show. And then I had a whole other thing. And then Joyce simplified that other thing to its base components. And I don’t feel like summarizing what she said about what I said. But really I just think you should look at the tweet I wrote. Which says,

“So basically this is the story of what'd happen if us talking to girls in our discord chats but we had mechas and were all caught in the middle of corporate/government space politics-wars-ing

“I’m sorry”

And also,

Suletta didn’t do anything wrong.

I’ve thought about this quite a long time, and others have kind of said it more succinctly, but I think that Suletta made, not the best decision, but a reasonable decision in this circumstance, to protect her fiancee from the guy pointing a gun at her.

I think the appropriate thing to do then would have been to emerge from Aerial apologizing profusely for the traumatic experience that Miorine just had of watching a dude get killed, instead of what she did do. That would have been the human thing to do. But Suletta didn’t act like a human in this situation because her mom told her that this behavior was a show of emotional strength. And that’s what’s happened here. And that’s interesting, because it plays really well into the story, I think, in showing that the shonen protagonist pluckiness that Suletta was trying to approach her circumstances with, doesn’t really work all of the time! Suletta, the main protagonist of this series, acted the most protagonist like that she’d ever acted in this scene, and it was the most out of character she’d ever acted, and like, gosh, I’m looking forward to seeing how they follow up on this. That’s really what I have to say about that.

Oh and also the show was good.

So yeah, that helped.

How Do We Relationship?

Which I’m going to refer to as Tsukiage, a shortened form of its Japanese title, from here on out.

Tsukiage is a story about lesbians.

And yes, yes, I know, there’s many stories “about lesbians” that I’ve told you about before. No. This isn’t like those. Tsukiage is About Lesbians. Tsukiage is about the experience of being a lesbian in This World, with all its gross bigotry problems. Tsukiage is about the experience of being in a group of heterosexual women and being asked what guys you like, and being unable to answer. Tsukiage is about the experience of being someone you know your parents would hate. Tsukiage is about the experience of being a teenager with no adults to trust in your life, but also about being an adult uncertain if you can trust the other adults in your life, and about the ennui of living isolated in a place you’ll probably never find your way out of, and about,

Tsukiage is about two twenty something lesbians who date each other because they’re the only lesbians they know and they have no idea what else to do, and who are really good at having a lot of sex with each other but are also really bad at dating and even worse at dating on the days when they're really bad at having sex with each other. And they're also both young and both had traumatic high school romance failures because, being a high school student is plenty traumatic in its own ways, and those wounds are still fresh to both of them even if they want to pretend they aren't, and it's bound to follow them still in this town they've lived their whole life in, and it's just a lot of spicy drama about that! I’ve been only three volumes in so far, and Miwa and Saeko are the first main pairing of a yuri manga we've seen to whom I’ve kind of ended up saying “nope”. I don’t get the sense that these two are made for each other in the same sense we got reading Adashima or Yagakimi or Sasakoi. They argue, they bicker, they feel jealous about each other, and about, maybe, 2 thirds of the way through the second volume, I realized I was reading a breakup narrative.

I mean, look at the back covers of the first four volumes. They telegraph it visually!

But also that makes this manga even more compelling for what it’s going for, because, um, conflict is good! And two people not made for each other is damn well better! Just yes, please do try to eventually get these two back together and sell me on this horrible relationship sorting itself. Or don’t, that’s also fine! I’ve not actually got to the chapter where they broke up, because, gosh, and tough, but yeah. And also this is probably the first manga I’ve read that actually shows how school can be traumatic, when it presents a supporting character who was deemed “gifted” in high school but ultimately wasn’t as good as their sibling and then was extremely othered by her family, and just is, generally, awfully maladjusted to, reality, because of the sheltered and overstructured way in which they lived being forced to rank as high as possible on exams, and like, shit! Like, I know Japanese high school is brutal, and it’s a plot point in a lot of anime and all, but this is the one time I can recall offhand when it was actually something that impacted the story and characters outside of a relatively contained studying arc, and it’s probably some of the realest fucking shit I’ve ever read.

Oh, also, um, Tsukiage is really damn funny. Like, the early volumes had me laughing involuntarily so much that I was seriously concerned about attracting noise complaints from others in our living space, or, around, generally? It’s a really good story, the art and faces are really good, the humor is really good and that's pretty damn essential, I think, for a story that deals in such heavy topics. The whole thing is good, so, yeah, read it!

Bad End Theater!

So yeah, I already used this game as b-roll in the Adashima video, so if you watched that, you probably already know that we liked this. And we do. It’s quite good. This game starts with, as Joyce said, *ruffles papers* “an unawakened lesbian is eaten by a demon… and in the next part of the game, the lesbian meets a demon lesbian who wants to eat her in the other way… and in the later part of the game, a reply guy apologizes for replying with violence… or actually replies with violence.”

So anyway this game took us a couple hours to 100% all its Steam achievements. Very short game, very good game, nice little queer vignette about the tragedy of people from different social backgrounds not understanding each other, and then understanding each other, one hopes. It’s not free, but it’s quite good, and easily recommendable! So yeah.

5, Spark the Electric Jester 3!

It’s a Sonic game. It’s basically a Sonic game. It’s much like the earlier game, Spark the Electric Jester 2, which is much like the earlier games Sonic Adventure 2 and Shadow the Hedgehog, the video about which we were going to make is apparently not coming out until it does, because we keep getting distracted by pointless bullshit. The developer of this series is a former developer of Sonic fangames and started with the 2D Spark the Electric Jester 1, which we could not finish because we suck at 2D platformers.

One really interesting thing about this game is how it treats the lives system. Yes, it has one, but only for the final level. I find this super super interesting, because while we were playing the Sonic Adventure titles with a friend of ours, we kinda generally came into the agreement that the lives system of all these games was a mistake. And Sonic Team seems to have agreed, because they, uh, removed it, from Sonic Forces onwards. But Spark 3 puts it back deliberately, only for the final level, and the final level is basically designed to make you lose lives. Not through difficulty, exactly, because while it is difficult, it’s not insurmountable, once you know the lay of the land- but rather, through compounding difficulty by length. Utopia Shelter doesn’t feel exactly like a level, it feels like a whole city. It feels like, I suppose, if at the end of Sonic 06, the whole of Soleanna became a level from which Sonic had to escape- oh, well, I guess that sort of did happen, huh. Sorry, just um…

Sonic 06 is cool? I’m very sorry to say so. It’s a horrible mess, but it also is cool.

Anyway, Spark 3’s acknowledgement of lives as a part of the Sonic Adventure experience feels like, kind of great? Like it doesn’t just go, “oh this part annoyed people, let’s throw it away” it says, no, dying in Final Chase repeatedly and falling out to the main menu is part of this kind of game, let’s just, give the player a chance to experience that, at least once. Let's make this a part of the game, but make it better, by making the level earn it, both by being an awesome level whose difficulty feels contextually justified, and also by being in a game with phenomenal 3D controls and platforming and movement physics where the appeal of such a difficulty modifier isn't spoiled by deaths that don't feel like your fault And it’s done in a way that feels accessible, with the option of going back and just, playing more of the game more, if you feel like you need more lives to endure the stage, but odds are if you’ve done all the optional stages you don’t need that many. I got to the end of Utopia Shelter on my second try, with lives to spare.

And yeah, so, anyway. Spark 3. It’s a really good game. It’s got pretty great level design and a great sense of visual style, really good music, good movement except for those damn cars that glitch and start going sideways all the time… I started just doing the car stages on foot because I couldn’t be bothered. But other than those, great game!

And finally;

Bocchi the Rock!

Okay, so I’m not sure what about Bocchi I can say that isn’t already said by other people but y’know what, fuck it, Molly’s convinced me, I’m gonna tell the weird age gap crush story.

So, when we were like, 16, 17, thereabouts, we were presumed a cis boy, and about six entire feet tall, and because of this, non-attentive viewers would often mistake us for a college-age dude. This factor, alongside the color of our skin and the general, uh, emotional neglect, of our parents, lent itself to our delinquencies, i.e., doing basically whatever the fuck we wanted at the expense of getting verbally and/or physically harassed by our parents who weren’t happy with us doing whatever the fuck we wanted but were slowly giving up after whatever point at which they stopped paying for the therapy that didn’t fix this brain immediately. So it was one night, while we were out of the house, as we usually were, talking to people at a charity event for the community org we volunteered for back then, that we saw her.

That woman who played guitar. Who was, back then, about the age we are right now. Maybe a little bit older.

Don’t think I need to describe her elsewise, really!

We had played guitar, too, once, for several years even. But I think we’d given up on music, like, the year before, after our mom harassing us to practice the “right” way made it not fun for us anymore. Seeing that beautiful, talented, very nice, woman almost made us want to try again. Although, we didn’t, because our mom didn’t want us to ever touch an instrument again unless we were truly serious about trying to make money with it, because those lessons are expensive, and I guess that’s one of the many ways we disappointed her, by ostensibly wasting her money.

But anyway, this woman. She was nice. That’s most of what we remember about her. She was a nice, cool, and to our eyes then, pretty, older woman who felt easy to talk to, and seemed to empathize with our anxieties, as, little of them as we felt comfortable telling, and, we were awkward around here and didn’t say much other than to compliment here and to talk about Edgar Wright’s movies, but like, y’know, she was good. She was good. Remembering how she smiled and how she looked at us like… well, probably the same as she smiled and looked at everyone, but still, it seemed like she liked us, or liked having us around. Although, now, being a performing person, we understand it’s kind of in your best interest to smile at everyone who comes to see a show. But. Yeah.

And we knew we never had a chance with this nice older woman, and that our crush on her was inappropriate, but, still… we still thought about this nice, talented, tall, pretty, interesting woman, and how much we wished we could be closer with her, but alas, and curses, age gaps, strike something again. Our heart, most likely, but maybe something else too.

And you know where this is going, don’t you.

Yeah.

[Kikuri Hiroi, a clip]

Kikuri is far, far more unhinged than that woman. The woman we knew was, uh, hinged, enough, to not drink around the absurdly tall and cute 17 year old that kept coming to her gigs for unknown reasons. Kikuri meanwhile is hardly ever seen without a can of sake nearby. And she’s also a bit more, y’know, open, with Hitori-chan, whose face around Kikuri is constantly a mixture of mild terror and grand astonishment. And, yes, Seika and Kikuri, is definitely, the more appropriate ship, and the one more likely to happen in the actual story, if any explicit lesbianism did happen, which I don't expect it to, but Hitori and Kikuri, in my opinion, is much more compelling, precisely because of how inappropriate it is. There’s just something particularly compelling to us, anyway, in the thought of our dead-in-the-water teenage crush, or something adjacent to it, actually going, someplace. It’s true that had we acted on it in real life, assuming we weren’t just rejected and told to abscond permanently, it’d almost certainly have gone extremely badly, for all the reasons it’d have done that, but, y’know, fiction is meant for exploring those culturally taboo fantasies of these sorts without necessarily needing to consider those unsafe and undesirable consequences. Although… you can, cause that’s conducive to drama.

So anyway, as far as, the actual show, goes, I dunno, I think it’s all pretty clear in this moment. This entire surreal bit with the psychedelic rock concert, where Hitori sees Kuroi reach out to her in this imagined intimate moment and whisk her away through this weird and new aspect of music and life experience that she’s not felt before, and it’s just like… Yeah! Yeah, that’s how it felt to us back then, watching that nice older girl on that stage. It was really kind of nostalgic actually. So, there’s one layer of the appeal of Kikuri’s inclusion in the show, Hitori’s feelings for Kikuri as someone who is a mentor figure and has things to teach her. You could say the thing Kikuri has to teach is music, or, something else, and though Hitori isn't eloquent or brave enough to articulate whatever her crazy teenage feelings are, it's clear she… has some! Which are ambiguous enough that they could be interpreted as just her wanting to be like Kikuri, which was also an aspect of our teenage emotions about our cool guitar woman, or that Kikuri playing in front of her triggered a spicy homosexual awakening! Not wrong either way. Though I think it's both.

And the other layer of the appeal is just… well, Kikuri herself. And our adoration of and relation to Kikuri as not just a stand-in for our teenage age gap crush, but also as a character in our age range who is relatable to us as a young adult who feels similarly to her about life!

I don’t think I need to explain that one, but I will anyway.

Kikuri is an alcoholic.

At some point after we turned 21, when it wasn’t us, but Joyce, Joyce discovered alcohol, during one of the low points in our life when we were unstably housed, and gradually started to rely on it a fair bit more than she should have. For a good year or two there, Joyce was drinking off our ass about once a month, sometimes twice, and y’know, just sort of thinking, who cares. If I die, if I lose, if I go out. Who cares. cause I’m not going to! We only really stopped drinking as much as we did because it started costing money and we started finding ostensibly better ways to hurt ourselves, like buying the disc of an ancient Japanese-only doujin game and telling ourselves it’s media preservation. I don’t think we were ever as much of an addict as Kikuri but, just, watching Kikuri, and watching her ruin her life in, basically the same sort of a way, is extremely relatable and gross and eugh

And the whole gosh contrast of THIS WOMAN being Hitori’s mentor figure who she takes her cues from and then embarrasses herself trying to do it

Is just incredible and perfect and gosh

Both these lovely women are both ruining themselves trying to be cool and likable and awesome, and… SUCCEEDING, because, the… the people LIKE the women, ruining themselves! and it’s beautiful.

I’m sorry, it’s beautiful.

Anyway Bocchi good. Bocchi good.

We've been reading the manga of Bocchi since writing that bit, and I think the Bocchi manga is just, for one thing, somewhat inherently let down by not being an anime and not having songs play in it, but, it's got more humor, at least one more crazy adult, and it's got more happening in it, as there is in every manga, and I really like it.

[I had to transcribe this part because I ad-libbed it. - Audrey]

I also like how it goes about, y’know, putting forth the, general, thesis or idea that, you know um, quote, “Rock Touches People’s hearts, because it’s coming from a loser, but you can’t call it rock if it’s from a successful person” Because that’s a- that’s a statement to make. That’s a statement that I’m kind of into. because we’re very not successful and uh. Seeing characters like Kikuri, and Bocchi, and y’know, and her, underground band, and uh, characters like Aiko, and her… Shady Underground Journalism, and the fact that the manga presents all of them, all of these very unsuccessful women, as cool, because they are cool, and that’s, real, rock!

*giggling lightly* uhhhh ahaha and you know but also *mutters sheepishly* please donate to our patreon- *laughs*

And one thing that I’m, one thing that I, one other thing that I really like about the manga is that it, it focuses so much, it’s like- it’s not so school-centric as a lot of other manga about y’know, music teenagers, tend to be, like- They’re not the light music club! They’re- they’re, a real underground band and you know that’s…

That’s freaking cool! *chuckles* That they are, they are, y’know, actually doing concerts for money, and that’s, y’know, it’s about doing the concerts, for money, and about working with adults who also have been doing concerts for money! and drugs *laughing quietly*

And also the fact that so little of it is set inside the school, like, y’know, th-the one moment where like, th-the online journalist writer who’s just like spotlighting, who’s y’know, writing about bands, and looking for Hitori. And then she goes to the school and she’s just like… Kicked out of the school! Because she’s not- she’s… she’s a creep! Who doesn’t belong! In the school! A-And *laughs* And then y’know, in like, another manga where it’s the light music club that that’d just kind of be where the plot… stops! Where that plot line… stops! But she- But then she finds out that y’know, they don’t perform at school, because they’re not a school band, and then, she… goes to the live house… and advances the plot. And is also a kind of… fucked up, self-interested woman, who tries to… sequester Hitori into… agskjhgdkfhkdhjfdddd because she’s afkhjdhkhf she’s interested in money, and promising more than she’s probably able… able to give, she is……

[trails off laughing]

This- this chapter…! This is- This is a scene where, *hiccup* This is a scene where this woman tries to buy Bocchi, buy Hitori, with the promise of exposure! *laughing* That- That is literally: That is the literal description!

[long pause while Audrey gets herself under control]

Okay, I’m done ad-libbing.

One thing I wanted out of the anime, watching the anime, was to see the group grow and expand to the point where they actually do become a famous and successful band. That's basically what I figured it'd head for since, Hitori is already a successful YouTuber, as YouTubers go, and since Nijika said that's where she wanted it to go, that she wants to grow the band and become popular and help everyone reach their dreams. We kind of do have the whole "high schoolers become music celebrities" thing in Love Live, but I'd love to see that sort of thing be done in a way that feels more grounded and believable in a world where people actually seem to worry about money, outside of the fantasy confines of a nationally famous school club, and have it done in a way that the story doesn't stop happening once they graduate! Given how much the story already focuses on adults who are implied to be varying levels of fucked up just as well and seriously as its lead teenage characters who are implied to be varying levels of fucked up, it feels like the sort of story that's kind of made to transition to follow these girls out of their school lives. And I hope it goes there, and I also hope that the anime eventually gets further seasons because the material of the later manga chapters has itself a fantastic foundation if the rest of it is adapted in the same way, so, yeah.

And that's just the feelings I have on that. If you're interested in more bocchi content then um, sakugablog has a couple writeups and translated interviews which talk about the production which is itself its own really interesting story! It also got us to read the manga, because the way that the anime's character designer expresses such passion for Hamaji's work is utterly palpable and gosh things. Also I think it's really funny that Kerorira decided to animate the Bocchi ice bath scene with her wearing a school swimsuit because that adds another deeper layer of hilarious cringe that isn't quite present in the manga version of the scene when you see that she's so mentally conflicted about the merits and demerits of this scheme that she can't bring herself to fully expose her own body to the ice water which would, uh, probably make the intended effect of catching a cold more likely and thus make the plan work better, and also the scene probably couldn't have become as much of a twitter meme if they'd decide to illustrate her without the school swimsuit like the manga does, since then instead everyone would be mentally and sometimes textually debating the merits and demerits of bath scenes in anime, again, except it'd be funnier than that because it'd be about *this* scene and that would be goshdarned hilarious.

I think that’s really kind of it for this one. We’re out of time. So we’ll see everyone next time. And thanks to our patrons.

Brea,

Dorian Newlin

hikari no yume

L Tantivy

pigeon

Sally

Scimitar

And Thijs

And everybody else.

oh wow that was, that was a, that was almost 48 minutes, okay um—

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anjumstar · 10 months

Text

Sand Lines ch5, Saturday

Read on AO3

rating: teen

pairing: bakudeku

word count: 28.3k/40.6k

summary: It wasn’t a vacation. It was only convenient that Katsuki’d managed to trick Miruko into thinking it was.

Katsuki doesn’t need a break. Post-war life has been peaceful. Too peaceful. So under the guise of a vacation, Katsuki heads to the American southwest, the only place where he can do the thing he wants to do the most: blow stuff up. Big time. And it’s all going to according to plan for about five minutes, until Deku comes along. They’ve barely seen each other since graduation last year and Katsuki could, should blow him up for getting in his business yet again. Instead, they learn about post-war life in the way they’ve done everything: together.

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Alamogordo, New Mexico

Katsuki had decided. He was gonna beat not just Izuku, but also Tap ‘n Go and Water Foul at this time off business. He was going to be number one.

“Wake up!” Katsuki shouted, throwing a shirt at Izuku’s face, hitting his sleeping target squarely even with the lights still off.

“Ngh!” Izuku sputtered as he shot up in bed, the shirt falling from his face and plopping innocently in his lap as Izuku looked at Katsuki with sleep-heavy eyes. “Kacchan, what the hell?”

“Rise and shine, nerd, today we learn how to take a vacation.”

“Now?” Izuku asked, groaning as Katsuki flicked the lights on. “Why?”

“Because you’re not gonna say, wow, I thought Kacchan knew everything to me again,” Katsuki said, grabbing up his stuff from around the room. Wallet, phone, keys. “Bullshit. I do know everything.”

Katsuki was slathering on some sunscreen when Izuku said, “Um, Kacchan, isn’t this your shirt?”

“Black is better against UV. You might as well not be wearing anything in your shitty pastels,” Katsuki stated. “Put it on or look even more like a shitty lychee.”

Izuku’s freckles had come out in the desert sun. They hid well under his burgeoning sunburn-turned-tan, but in that stark light, Katsuki witnessed how they bloomed on his shoulders down to his forearms. He was pink and brown all over.

“Fine,” Izuku said, tugging the black tee on and popping out the neck hole with a bad case of bedhead.

“Pfft,” Katsuki laughed, the sound no more than a medium gust of air. “You look like a thirteen year old going to his first emo concert.”

“Hey, you’re making me wear it!”

“And you’re making me laugh!”

“A price I’m willing to pay.” Izuku grinned as he tugged on a pair of cargo shorts. Also pale, but at least the fabric was thicker. “Where are we going?”

“You’re gonna have to hold your piss for at least an hour.”

“That doesn’t remotely answer the question.”

“You’re a nerd, interpret that as you will.”

It seemed as though, aside from hiking, there wasn’t much to do in this region. Lots of cliffs and caves and mountains, sprinkled with museums, eateries, and ranches. Coming from a town so close to Tokyo made it seem like there’d be more to do if their flights had just dropped them off smack-dab in the middle of the ocean.

Katsuki was satisfied with hiking. It was one of the things he did in his time off even back home, because it still felt productive. But that was what the vacation was supposed to disrupt, wasn’t it?

So they were going out of town.

Katsuki lifted up the car keys and gave them a jingle. “I’m getting old here.”

“You’re not even five minutes older yet,” Izuku quibbled, going over to the sinks to brush his teeth. “Just gimme a minute.”

They were out to the car in three, Izuku’s blessed lack of vanity making him easy enough to shove out the door. He just needed a brush, a whizz, and a protein bar chipmunked away in one chubby cheek and he was good to go.

They were soon on the interstate, pointed in the direction of the Missile Range. Even with the windows up and the air set to recirculate, the dusty smell of terracotta earth crept in, mingling with the dry gypsum that had managed to speckle the car’s black interior. Despite the rain last night, the scent was still wrung out, like dry dirt but more, like a dust storm you could drink.

And somehow, overnight, the land had turned green. Not like Japan with its plenty of trees and bushes and grass, but greener than Katsuki had ever seen this place. The yucca stood taller, the prickly pears were plumper. And the little clumps of grass, brown enough to blend in with the desert as Katsuki tripped over them a couple days ago, now cast a verdancy over the land that stretched for miles.

When they passed right by the Missile Range, Izuku’s head whipped back, then he looked towards Katsuki with wide eyes. He had to know better than to ask if Katsuki had missed a turn, but the question of where rested on his face. But like in the hotel, Katsuki wasn’t going to answer. Instead, he took his right hand and put it on the center console.

“You gonna sit there or are you gonna do something useful?”

“Oh!” Izuku said, the surprise unable to be hidden. But he didn’t say anything as he took Katsuki’s right hand in both of his and began massaging the muscles, stretching the joints, warming the skin against the air conditioning.

Katsuki was still getting used to this. When his and Izuku’s hands met, it was in combat—on both sides of their friendship. Exchanged blows in enmity or camaraderie, and very little else. But now Izuku was taking Katsuki’s hand in his, was holding his arm gently as he removed cactus needles, was close all the time. Izuku could easily pause and rest his hand in Katsuki’s, thread their fingers together, draw Katsuki’s hand further into his lap. And maybe Katuski would let him.

Which was a weird thought as Katsuki clenched his left hand against the wheel, only to shoot a twinge of pain up his forearm. He nearly snatched his other hand away, but that would have stood out, it would have beckoned questions, or at least made Izuku think things that maybe he was wise enough not to ask aloud.

They blurred past a sign marked 75 mph. Katsuki’s eyes slid over to the dash as the smaller kilometer dial crept up over 100 kph, 110, 120… But even at the speed limit, traffic blew by them, cars hopping over to the fast lane just to pass them. So the dial moved further, 130, approaching 140 before they were running in parallel with the cars around them. It was fast, way faster than they ever got in Japan. It was All Might-fast, Deku-fast. Staring at Izuku’s lightning-clad back as he ran ahead and disappeared for a year-fast.

“Other hand, Kacchan.”

It was slightly uncomfortable, reaching his left arm underneath his right as he switched driving hands. But the road was long and straight and wide, so Katsuki just kept his eyes between the lines as Izuku began working, his fingers now brushing Katsuki’s hip occasionally as he worked up the wrist.

“This is kind of doing it, right?” Izuku asked. “Yeah, we’re going somewhere, and maybe that’s productive, but it’s quiet. We’re just sitting together. Not much is happening. And it’s okay.”

Maybe Izuku had a point, but there was something different about this than even the meal they’d shared yesterday. In the car, Katsuki had to look forward, had to focus on something that wasn’t Izuku. There was a separation that cleared Katsuki’s mind, at least a bit. When it was just him and Izuku, no focus point to filter some of Izuku out with, there was something that was too much. Something that he couldn’t figure out.

“Failing grade, Deku.”

They were coming to a scenic overpass, the crest of the mountain that hugged the far west end of the valley. The car chugged up a sharper incline, and Katsuki pulled his warm, limber hand back to control the wheel. He kept his eyes on the road, curling a smile under his frown as Izuku oohed and ahhed over the view as they crept higher and higher.

Unlike the drive from the day before, this one wasn’t blocked by evergreens. The regular brush, slightly greener from the rain, stalked them up the mountain, dotting the sharp hills like freckles. Behind them, in the rear-view mirror, Katsuki could make out the whole valley: the blanched strip of White Sands and the darker smudge of Alamogordo.

Coming down the other side of the mountain, there were towns. Patches of fast food joints and squat houses and water towers painted with scenes of the American west bordered the whole highway. No building more than a story high, no town extending longer than a city block. There probably wasn’t any crime, because everyone had to know each other in a place so small. The criminal would be found out before even the fastest hero teleported.

They were back on flat land, the mountains once again tall behind them when Katsuki pulled off the highway. Izuku was staring out the window, probably thirsty for hints about Katsuki’s plan, because goodness knew there wasn’t much to look at besides Mexican restaurants and American chain establishments.

When they turned into a parking lot, every spot with so much as a twig’s worth of shade was taken, but one spot was all Katsuki needed as he cut it close to the cars on either side with the monstrosity of an SUV he was driving.

“What is this place?” Izuku asked, looking at what was very clearly the back of a building with zero signage.

“Dunno,” Katsuki said, hopping out of the car and slamming his door closed. “Not going there. C’mon.”

The sun walloped them hard once the last of the air conditioning wicked off their skin, reminding them that outside of the oasis of the car, this was the desert. Despite it still being early morning, the sun was high already, running up to its peak.

There were more people around than Katsuki had seen since he’d left the airport. Car doors slammed around him to reveal people in broad-brimmed hats all walking the same way that the GPS had told him to go. Katsuki melded in with the crowd, Izuku right on his heels.

And here, Katsuki could blend in with the crowd. Without any efforts towards disguise, he and Izuku were invisible, as good as civilians in this country. Surely they were famous enough that if they mentioned their hero names, both the more hero fanatical and the news buffs would turn their heads. But as they were, doing nothing to draw attention to themselves, not so much as lick of merch tagging their clothes, they were unknown in a way they hadn’t been since Katsuki was fourteen.

They could do anything and no one would know. No one would have phones facing toward them or be firing off texts with the news of a Deku and Dynamight sighting. They were anonymous.

“Oh, wow!”

“This is it,” Katsuki said, waving an arm out to the street before them.

It was a block full of tents and carts, artisans hawking their wares and food vendors fanning the scents of their food toward the passersby. There were endless colors in the forms of flowers and jewelry and painted terracotta pots. And when Katsuki looked from one end of the street to the other, the end of the street fair was nowhere in sight. It wasn’t nearly as packed as a Japanese street lined with food vendors, but it was probably just as big, just stretched over the plentiful land of the region.

“A glorified farmer’s market,” Katsuki declared. “The most boring thing imaginable.”

Izuku barked out a laugh, and it took Katsuki aback. It was brief, over as soon as it started. But it wasn’t a sound Katsuki heard often from Izuku, and it was…nice. He had to frown away his own burgeoning smile as Izuku turned to look at him, grin on his face. “Then why are we here?”

“If we can figure out why all these people are here, why this mind-numbing activity is at the top of this wasteland’s expendable tourist board,” Katsuki laid out, “then we’ll be number one at this vacation shit.”

The warm, bright look on Izuku’s face narrowed into sharp eyes and furrowed brows as he turned his attention to the crowd. He was active, curious, analyzing. Katsuki might have liked that expression even better.

“Challenge accepted,” Izuku said. “Plus ultra.”

“Okay, this way,” Katsuki said, choosing a direction at random and snagging Izuku by the shoulder to follow.

They stepped into the fray and observed the obvious things. The smells were intoxicating—so different from Japanese cuisine. Too sweet, too oily, but alluring. It didn’t take Izuku long to buy a bag of kettle corn and begin devouring it with the sticky hands of the toddler Katsuki had once known.

“People like going out for food they don’t have to cook,” Izuku observed, offering Katsuki a piece of the strangely round popcorn.

It was alright. A little overly sweet but with decent salt. Katsuki could understand the appeal. Besides, food was one of the few things that Katsuki already put some effort into in his free time. Another productive hobby, just like hiking or working out.

“That’s appeal number one,” Katsuki agreed.

“People like shopping,” Izuku pointed out next. Canvas totes and reused grocery bags were bulging with jars and collectables and artwork. Cash was flowing and, briefly, Katsuki wondered if he had enough currency left for the day, but then he remembered he wasn’t buying any of this shit.

“Pass,” Katsuki said, avoiding eye contact with the tie dye vendor they were passing. Like he hadn’t been able to make tie dye shirts when he was five years old.

“I dunno,” Izuku mused. “Sometimes clothes shopping can be fun.”

“That’s only because you have the sense of humor of a middle-aged dad and your t-shirts reflect that.”

“Well, yeah, that can be fun!”

Aguas frescas were next, because they’d only been out fifteen minutes, and already beads of sweat were forming along Katsuki’s brow. The pink drink that was in his hand a few minutes later dripped cold condensation down his arm as the ice began its rapid melt.

“I can drink sugary shit at home,” Katsuki complained as the floral taste of hibiscus hit his tongue. It wasn’t as overly sweet as he’d assumed, but he kept that to himself as he slurped it down. “In the AC. What makes this special?”

“I dunno,” Izuku said, sucking down on an horchata, reduced to pouring the kettle corn directly into his mouth with his other available hand. “People watching? Seeing stuff you don’t usually see?”

“The only reason I need to watch people is to be able to describe their dumb faces in a crime report,” Katsuki said. “And I don’t need any of this shit.” They were passing a vendor selling clocks whittled into ornate wooden cutouts. Nothing Katsuki needed to lug back to Japan when he had a smartwatch on his wrist at all times.

“Wait, wait, an All Might stall!”

Katsuki followed Izuku’s gaze, expecting to see a stall of red, blue, and yellow, but instead saw Izuku running towards a stall glutted with unofficial merch for heroes and comic books alike. But Izuku zeroed in on a selection of mini All Mights dangling from a jewelry stand and was already halfway done leafing through them by the time Katsuki meandered over.

“Kacchan, how do I pick?” Izuku asked as he picked up two off-brand All Mights. Both were flying, but one was in his silver age and one in his bronze age and, despite being homemade, Katsuki had to admit they looked pretty damn good.

“What are they?”

“Phone charms,” Izuku explained, showing how the little black string looped into the corner of his smart phone. “It only makes sense for him to be flying since he’s dangling, you know, he shouldn’t be standing.

“Obviously,” Katsuki agreed sarcastically. Though he couldn’t refute the nerd’s logic.

“So which one?” Izuku asked. “It should be these ones with the cape instead of golden age so that it’s extra clear that he’s flying, but the costume colors are so different there’s just no way to possibly choose—Kacchan, help!”

“Buy both.”

Izuku looked relieved and Katsuki almost laughed. This damn peaceful climate and Izuku’s greatest moment of distress was not being able to choose between different versions of All Might.

While Izuku eagerly paid, Katsuki took the bronze age All Might—an era he’d always been partial to with its dark red and black color scheme—and looped it around the corner of his phone. It looked dorky as hell.

“Kacchan?” Izuku asked when he was done with the cashier. “What are you doing?”

“I paid for the rental car and the room,” Katsuki reasoned with a shrug. “You paid for this—now we’re even.”

Izuku laughed again, This one twice as long as the earlier laugh Katsuki had earned. It made his stomach squeeze. “Now we match!”

Both of their phones were adorned with little dangling All Mights, making them a matched set like friendship bracelets or the All Might cards they’d both pulled in childhood. It was too darling for Katsuki to bear, and he had half a mind to take his and Izuku’s phones both and blow them up between his hands. It also made him want to take Izuku’s hand and lift it in the air declaring that they were a pair and always had been and no one had better separate them again. Instead, he shoved his phone back in his pocket and let the little All Might charm dangle from his hip.

“Okay, I get it now,” Izuku said grinning. “Shopping has its benefits.”

Their shoulders bumped together as the crowd bottlenecked around a food truck. Izuku was so damn warm to the touch already, and the dark shirt wasn’t helping, even if it would stave off the burning. The thing was beginning to saturate with sweat, becoming skin tight around Izuku’s ab muscles, reminding Katsuki of how he’d looked shirtless and sweaty the day before. Just the brief touch shoulder to shoulder made Katsuki sweat even more.

“Oh, Kacchan, over there!”

Izuku put his hand on Katsuki’s shoulder and that was even warmer. He could feel the damp of Izuku’s palm through his shirt sleeve, and the touch felt heavy. Every new touch between them was surprising and rawly sensory. Like the smack of salt the first time he’d tasted miso plain or a day after training waking up to a muscle he hadn’t known about screaming out in pain. It was just a hand, so why did it feel like so much?

“Chile jam!” Izuku exclaimed, coming to a stop in front of a stand, dropping his hand in order to point at the glass jars of yellow, orange, and red.

“The fuck?” Katsuki blurted, earning a head tilt and furrowed brow from the vendor.

“What’s this?” Izuku asked, pointing to the peculiarly labeled jars. There were other strange jellies and jams on the table: garlic and onion and ginger, but Izuku’s attention was squarely on the one with the magic word. Chile.

“It’s one of our specialties,” the woman answered from her folding lawn chair. Everything at the stand was made of the same canvas-like polyester, from the chair to the tablecloth to the tent providing brief relief from the sun, drawing shoppers under its brim. “Jam reduced down with tomatoes and different peppers. It’s got a real kick, I swear to hither and yon.”

“I can take more than a little kick.”

“Oh, can ya?”

The woman used the edge of the table to push herself up, shaking all the jars of jam as she looked up to face Katsuki. Her face was as weathered as the land itself with the same kinds of crags and ridges and sun-roasted tan.

From a cup of doll-sized spoons, the woman took one, and untwisted a loose jar lid with her other hand. Without breaking eye contact with Katsuki, she dipped the spoon in the jar and then placed the red sauce in her mouth. Before even swallowing, she grabbed another, filled it with jam, and held it out towards Katsuki. A challenge.

He took it immediately, and placed the spoon facedown on his tongue, licking the spoon clean in one swift motion while the woman’s spoon dangled from her mouth like a loose cigarette.

It was sweet. It was jam. The sugar glided over his tongue, reminding him of that horrid fudge for a moment before the tangy hit of acid from the tomato kicked in. Not so different from a ketchup from a button-up only, cloth napkin restaurant.

Also…It was hot.

It crept up from behind like a little stalker villain that Katsuki would usually be ready to whip around and knock out with one blow from his quirk. But this vendor lady hadn’t so much as blinked at the spice, and so Katsuki wouldn’t either. He had a lifetime of controlling the sweat glands in his hands, but he’d never had to pay attention to the pores on his face. His sideburns were soaked and his bangs stuck to his forehead like a bad alpaca fur beanie. But that was just the sweat from the day, right? This old bat wouldn’t think he was bowing under the pressure—he’d rather take some of this lava jam to the eye than that.

“Good, huh?” the lady asked.

Katsuki swallowed. “Great,” he rasped.

And that was the kicker, wasn’t it? Even as it made all his taste buds stand erect like good little child soldiers in a war, he thought damn if it wouldn’t taste good slathered on a piece of roast pork.

He slapped down the eight bucks that crazy lady was charging for it and left before she could see his face go red.

“Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Izuku asked, a wide grin on his face. “Not boring?”

“It was grocery shopping,” Katsuki retorted. “And a bother for customs.”

But…he was having a little bit of fun. A smidgeon. And he still didn’t understand why, because his mind should be half numbed with sugar and heat and boredom, but it wasn’t. He wasn’t. Instead, he had half a mind to point Izuku towards the All Might bottle cap charms across the way or the aloe plants one tent down that would help soothe their burns.

Izuku had to take the jar, since it fit into one of his massive pockets, making it look like he had one and a half hip bones. But of course, the idiot was happy to do it, thrilled even. Like in this dearth of distressed civilians and villains to take down, being able to save Katsuki the grief of carrying both a jam jar and a drink was gonna push him up a score in the hero rankings.

“I think you’d rather be grocery shopping,” Izuku said—and it was a fair assumption. The supermarket was air conditioned and efficient and didn’t have random ladies squaring up like he wouldn’t push her out of the way for the last tin of wasabi peas.

But he’d also be alone at the supermarket. And go back to his empty apartment alone. He’d put most of the groceries away and cook dinner for one like he always did.

“Whaddyou know?” Katsuki said instead, frowning.

“You. Pretty well,” Izuku retorted. “I thought maybe I’d forgotten some about you in the past year but no, you’re always up here.”

He gestured towards his head with his shoulder, which Katsuki caught out the corner of his eye as they continued walking forward. A dog was peeing on the sidewalk shockingly close to some macramé merchandise. A kid dropped an ice cream cone on the ground and burst out crying. This end of the street fest was drawing near.

Katsuki wasn’t even sure how well he knew himself. If he did, wouldn’t the shit those old fart heroes had been talking about on Thursday be his reality already? Sometimes it seemed impossible to tell who he was beyond fists and explosions and sweat. But Izuku had always known things that Katsuki hadn’t, and it in equal measure made him want to go back to the car and leave Izuku in a fit of red dust, and pry the answers out of Izuku with his nails, with his teeth.

“No,” Katsuki said. “This feels different.”

They were approaching a barricade of orange cones at the end of the street, nothing but one food truck left between them and the end of this side of the fair.

“Different than what?”

“Like this is so boring my brain should melt out of my ears, but you’re distracting it from that.”

“Which is a…good thing?”

Katsuki walked ahead. Straight past the food truck and past the orange cones so they were back in the normal town, cars passing by at a quick clip. Everyone drove fast here, like there was actually somewhere to go. “It’s an annoying thing.”

“Oh…?”

Izuku was confused. Even not looking at the guy, still facing the street, Katsuki could all but see the cocked head, the wide eyes, the hand drooping in the air in front of him as it tried to draw a real answer out of Katsuki.

But Katsuki had none to give. This wasn’t a regular feeling. It was a new one, no more relatable to his regular rolodex of feelings than it was to a swarm of bees storming his stomach. Really, actually, it was more like the bees.

“I thought I’d be alone this week,” Katsuki said, allowing the cars to swallow up his words. He didn’t give a damn if Izuku heard or not. “Had been looking forward to it. Then your ass blows in near immediately and well. Thought I’d punch your lights out, but I haven’t.”

Katsuki was sure that’d stir a response. Not throwing a punch was as good as taking one yourself. That’s why he’d always struck first in a fight. Set the tone. Don’t give yourself a chance to be thrown off right at the top. But somehow Izuku had gotten the upper hand without making the first move while Katsuki sat back on his heels. No, actually, he’d been doing something, but it hadn’t been fighting. And when it wasn’t fighting, Katsuki couldn’t figure it out.

But Izuku didn’t say anything. Mind was surely working a kilometer a minute, but what else was new.

“You’re the best to train with. You’re not even horrible to share a room with. Lousy at vacationing with,” Katsuki continued. “You used to get on my nerves just being around. But you being fucking absent for a year threw everything off, and I can’t shake it.”

“I wasn’t gone—you were busy too!”

“Shut up.”

It hadn’t been important. Nothing besides scattered flashes of their work shifts had ever been an emergency or desperate or immediately necessary in any way. They’d just been making busy because they didn’t know how to do anything else. Because they didn’t know how to just be with themselves. That was what UA had never taught them.

“We don’t know how to be friends!” Katsuki exclaimed. “Maybe we never did!”

However loud Katsuki's words were, the silence was louder. It was fraught with humming vehicles and excited voices making their way through the street fair, but none of that was the deafening part. The space between him and Izuku was what screamed at Katsuki.

“K-Kacchan…”

Izuku was upset now. Great. And by God, some horrible yanking behind Katsuki’s lungs made him want to do something about it. It was like his upper chest had been speared by a fishhook and was pulling him back to where Izuku stood behind him, potentially blubbering because Katsuki couldn’t hold his tongue, yet again.

But when Katsuki turned around, Izuku wasn’t weeping. He was frowning, but his eyes were only glistening, no more than the sweat on his forehead or down the column of his neck. He was shiny all over and it was captivating. He’d always drawn Katsuki’s gaze like this, but it had never before filled him with such fresh vexation.

It pushed him to take a step forward. Then another. And another. He was close enough to Izuku to smell the heady mix of sweat intermingled with sunscreen and exhaust puffing out of that food truck. It was acrid and hot and it smelled a little like battle but they were safe but if they were safe then why was Katsuki’s heart pounding like a villain was on his tail, like something was catching up to him, like—

He had to do something. He had to.

He leaned in. He heard Izuku say: “Oh.” Actually, he felt it more than he heard it. Soft, puffing against his mouth. And then, because he couldn’t allow Izuku to figure it out first, took one last step forward, and closed the gap.

Their lips touched. And Katsuki had no idea what he was doing, he was only aware of what was next. Next: him grabbing Izuku’s sweaty hair and fisting it in his sweaty palm. Next: them slotting their lips to the side so that they actually fit, and dammit, they did fit. Next: a touch of tongue that tasted like hibiscus and cinnamon and caramel. Next: they broke apart and stared at each other with wide eyes.

It was a line in the sand, crossed. A line they hadn’t even known about, blown to scattered waste.

Next. Katsuki took two big steps backwards and blasted himself right over traffic and ran.

Las Cruces, New Mexico

Running was hard in this country. The air was thin. The sun was hot. Katsuki had spilled his hibiscus drink on his hand before he’d dropped it and it looked like he’d murdered a Jigglypuff. He had no idea where he was or where he was going, but that was a problem for later. Everything was a problem for later. Right now, the only problem was running.

Of course, running wasn’t a problem when you wielded the most powerful quirk in the world. So Katsuki had only cleared one, maybe one-and-a-half blurry blocks before a flash of teal lit up in front of him and forced him to stop or else make more of a coward of himself.

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed, and it wasn’t so different from his arrival just a few days ago. Skidding to a stop, just a little out of breath, and with Katsuki more than a little dumbfounded. “Kacchan, what the…what?”

And fuck, running hadn’t made his heart rate go down at all. Hadn’t stopped the nervous sweat or the sweat from the heat certainly or even the sweat from his quirk, which could probably send him straight to the stratosphere with one wrong thought just about now. “I don’t know!”

“Kacchan, you can’t just kiss someone and run!”

“You don’t tell me what I can and can’t do!”

“Well then, what—why? Why did you do it?” Those little aspirated puffs coming off the W questions betrayed that Izuku actually might have been a bit out of breath. Maybe his heart was beating as fast as Katsuki’s. He’d lost his drink too, and the popcorn, but his shorts were still hanging heavy with the fucking jam.

“I had to do something!” Katsuki shouted.

“Something?” Izuku asked. “Or that thing?”

“What’s it to you!” Katsuki rebutted, weak as anything. Weak in a way that made sweat sting his eyes and he had to blink it away fast lest any idiot think it was something else.

“It’s everything!” Izuku shouted back. “What’s it to you?”

It was…something. It was confusing. It was surprising. It was a mystery and maybe it was obvious but it was also good and maybe really bad and it was done but it wasn’t over.

Maybe it was inevitable. Maybe it should have already happened.

“I wanted to,” he said simply. “And so I did.”

“You wanted to…? Since when?” Izuku asked.

“Just now!”

Izuku shook his head, as though that was wrong, as though Katsuki had just lied to him, as though that was something that Katsuki would ever do. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know!” Katsuki exclaimed. He didn’t know. He hadn’t thought that far. His mind was racing in an effort to catch up and figure that out, but every thought was too fast and shadowed by the next to decipher. “Whaddyou know?”

Katsuki asked it again. As though Izuku was hiding information from him. It was inside of him—of that Katsuki was sure. He wanted to crawl down Izuku’s throat and claw it out, figure out what bloody truth lay between them that neither of them had words for. That was the only way he could think to do it, the only thing that even began to make sense.

“I-I…” Izuku stuttered, his head shaking slightly, his eyes wide and confused, but he didn’t take a single step back from Katsuki. He couldn’t. “I don’t know. I… What now?”

Now had run away when Katsuki had. Now was back by those traffic cones and here, Katsuki had no idea. Of anything.

He sighed, the first breath he’d managed to get even halfway under him. It tasted like both of them. “Car. That’s what. Let’s get outta here.”

#anjum writes #bkdk #bakudeku #bkdkbk #bakudekubaku #dkbk #dekubaku #dkbkdk #dekubakudeku #ktdk #katsudeku

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sharkneto · 2 years

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Sorry if you’ve talked about this before but do you think Five needs to sync up his body and his mind to be truly happy? Like, would you want him to get his 58 yr old body back? I was thinking about how I want his arc to end and kinda got stuck here. On one hand he’ll probably have a place within his family regardless, on the other it must suck having a body that doesn’t show the extent of what he’s been through. And there are other things to consider as well, like the fact that he’s gonna outlive his entire family by a few years (assuming they all die of old age) and that finding a romantic partner will probably be tough (though idk if that’s something he would want). I suppose this is one of the things that makes others say he can’t live without the apocalypse. The dissonance between his mind and his body would probably be more obvious once there is no imminent threat to avert.

So... hmmmm. Yes and no. Do I think he won't be able to be truly happy until he doesn't look like a child? Absolutely. I think you hit the nail on the head that it is a thing that did not matter when there was a world to save, but is going to matter so much once it's Normal Life. To be an adult and looking like a child is fucking hell. You lose so much autonomy. It's embarrassing. It's not representative of who he is. Plus, as you mentioned, it doesn't show the extent of trauma he's endured because he erased it all by becoming thirteen, a body untouched by it all.

But, does that mean he can only be happy is he's properly 58? No, I don't think so. Personally, and this is headcanon territory, I think Five has wanted nothing more than to be part of the family set again, how he was when he was thirteen. Being the Exact Same Age was a big part of their identities, whether they wanted that or not. And sure, the rest of the siblings aren't the same age anymore, either, but there's still only a 3-year gap between them all. Five has decades in either direction from them. He's literally twice as old as (some of) them. If he got to pick to be any age, I think he'd go with something between 30-35 (depending on if he wanted to keep technical, physical seniority). He doesn't stick out anymore from the rest of them, he fits, he's going to age at the same rate as the rest of them. It's a perfect solution to all his problems (if you ignore all his other trauma).

Final point re: romance. I am firmly in the Aroace Five camp. Delores was the platonic love of his life, and she's his wife because the guy is working with a sheltered thirteen-year-old's understanding of what relationships are. So, I don't think he'd really prioritize or have a in interest to seeking out a romantic partner. Which works out in his favor, as he looks thirteen and there are zero good solutions to that particular dilemma.

#it's part of the tragedy of five #a tragedy we all know i love to think about #regardless of his physical age #i don't think he has plans to live much beyond his siblings #he's done that he's not going to do it again #maybe another fifty years of good life will change his mind on that #but where we are with him in the show/immediately after? i think he has a contingency plan for himself #with those tags lets put a quick lil #cw suicide mention #to be safe #thank you for the ask!#tua #number 5 #shark's tua thoughts #ask response

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kimkaelyn · 1 year

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

Shout out to the amazing @andypantsx3 for the tag! Sending lots of love and happiness your way!

Hmmm, so this is difficult. In my opinion, I haven't published many worth mentioning fics but if I had to choose any, they would be these. 5.) This is for all of the stories that I started to write, but never finished; and all of the stories that were ideas in my head that never got to be played out. I love you and do think about your worlds and stories.

4.) Can I Sing At Your Wedding | Kim Namjoon

I don't have a reason for why I am including this. I just find it hilarious and a big mess that makes me smile every time I read it.

3.) Ditto | Shouto Todoroki

when you transferred to U.A., you didn't anticipate slipping on a pair of chopsticks in the middle of the crowded cafeteria during your first week. however, what took you by surprise was the unexpected fall for the boy who gracefully caught you.

This isn't released yet, but I am having so much fun writing it!!!!!! I'm looking forward to sharing this with you all!

2.) Marinette Claire | Miraculous Ladybug

She made a promise to him. But something happened and she disappeared. What would happen three years later when she returns with secrets you never could imagine?

Soooooo, this is the first fic that I actually ever wrote. I never finished it (at least on paper), but it is special to me. I wrote this all the way back in 2016 when I was twelve or thirteen. At the time, I was trying to navigate my feelings and grief over a classmate's death. And those emotions that I was feeling is reflected in this story. This story is about a boy trying to navigate the death of his best friend and try to figure out how to move on with life.

Basically, I was writing about myself, but speaking through the character of Adrien Agreste (T_T omg i can't believe I just typed that out). This story was my coping mechanism, and it was a light when I was surrounded by so much darkness.

1.) Lost at Sea | Marvel

"Cap! We found her!"

After I woke up, I met this gorgeous woman. Eventually, we got married and had a daughter. We were very happy. I never allowed my work as Captain America to come in between my family and I. Until a sudden mission forced me to leave our family vacation in Italy and catch the next flight to D.C. My wife and daughter were supposed to fly back two days later, but they never made it home...

"Where's my daughter?"

"All we know is that she's not with her mother."

Now I know you guys' are probably racking your memories trying to see if you have read this story before, and the answer to that is probably not. Lost at Sea is the first multiple-chaptered fic that I finished. I wrote it all the way back in 2017-2018 while I was in middle school. This story is my baby, and my OC Mariana... I don't know what to say about her only that she holds a special place in my heart. (Seriously if I have a daughter I am going to name her Mariana.) Maybe because she is the type of person that I wish I was, but regardless, she is my everything.

I wrote Lost at Sea during a very difficult time in my life. I haven't talked about this here on tumblr before, but middle school was hell for me. I was severely bullied over my online presence and I am ashamed to say that they made my old childhood persona die, and they are the reason that I use a pseudonym now. At that time, while being bullied, I was trying to figure out who I was and find a place where I belonged. I, like so many writers and artisans, turned to art as a way to cope and navigate my emotions and changing world. The result of that is Lost at Sea. I poured my everything into that book, and I am so so so proud of it. I have come a long way since it was completed, and I promise one day I will go back and give it the revision it so desperately deserves.

Thank you again Andie for the tag!

no pressure tags: @yoonia @floatingpetals @missrosegold @thecowboykatsuki-anon @vampyrsm @ghostgirl19posts @kpopfanfictrash @jamaisjoons @jeonstudios @riverofmemoriesft

(I apologize if you are already tagged, but please do @ me in your post so I can read about your favorite fics!!)

#kaelyn's diary #love you all

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the-baddest-of-batches · 1 year

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Dar'Aliit: Chapter Thirteen - Big Picture

20 BBY Capital of Roche

I lift the blanket and am tackled by the flying limbs of a rogue ten year old. My helmet rolls across the floor. She's sobbing.

How the hell am I supposed to comfort a sobbing child?

I lean over and cautiously pat her head before quickly realizing if she opens her eyes she'll see the corpses of her parents. Without another thought I scoop her up and turn around so she can't see. Her head draws back, streaked in tears.

"It was so loud," she sobs. "And the ground shook, and there was screaming, and-and," she tears up again. I stare at the corpses and grimace.

"It's okay," I mutter. I kneel and pick up my helmet. "See, you're okay?"

"Where's my mom!"

I can't do anything but hold her. I have no idea how I'm supposed to handle a child, but I've seen plenty of crying kids around the Coruscant districts. Usually the parents just hold them and console them. Some scream back. I don't think that'll help here.

How am I supposed to get her out of here without seeing the carnage? I don't know if I can.

She wraps her arms around my neck and sobs on it. I stiffen a little. Maybe it bothers me because I wish I could have been her. Clinging to someone bawling my eyes out when the world around me became needlessly violent. Clones don't cry, though. We're bred for this.

I'm not a child. I'm a soldier.

She hugs me tighter. Pain stings down my shoulder. That hurts. I try not to gasp and look for another way out. There has to be something.

She's crying for her parents again. Her head is buried in my shoulder, so I suppose it's now or never.

"Hey, can you do me a favor?"

She hiccups on a sob. "Y-yes."

"Look at me and tell me your name, okay?" her head lifts. Her eyes lock on mine. They're pure white.

"Roje."

"Roje, nice name. Favorite color?" I take a couple of steps toward the door and her teary gaze is still locked on me. I try not to direct her anywhere else.

"Uh...orange."

"Animal?"

I keep asking questions until we're through the door and out of sight of the corpses. There's civilians in the street now, people emerging from homes to see what has become of their city.

"Roje!"

Roje turns at the sound of her name and smears her hands across her face before bursting back into tears. "Nama!"

I relinquish the sobbing girl into the arms of Name, Roje's, aunt, sibling? I don't know but they know each other. I step back. Roje's safe. She's alive.

I feel like I'm still holding my breath, though.

"Thank you," Nama, the older woman consoling Roje, has tears in her eyes too. I can't look at her so I nod. "Take care of yourselves." I turn, regretting it almost. I won't know their fates. I can't let myself get attached, because they're still people. Human beings whose lives will run out.

But for now, they're alive. And there's a universe full of them. I can't keep gambling and pretending not to care.

I pull my helmet on and ping R3. "C'mon. We'd better get back and make sure none of the Dar'Aliit got themselves shot."

I admit that I half expected another slap across the face. I was told to go with Fang Company and I clearly defined that order. But the General meets me aboard the bridge and there's something of a proud smile on his face.

That irks me more than his anger.

"You brought back valuable intel," he nods in my direction. Officers on all sides glance around at us. The Captain stands stiffer than normal.

"Well done," General Nidor about faces to the bridge windows. The ship is battered, but still here. "and on top of that you prevented civilian casualties. I'm almost proud of you."

Need I remind him that he wanted me to join the 560th? I don't think I will. This time. I'm still holding my breath for the other shoe to drop.

"I'm making you Lieutenant."

"Sir?" I balk. Lieutenant? Of what? I don't command anybody. I don't want to.

"I said I'm promoting you, trooper. You'll be Lieutenant of the Dar'Aliit and work within Bad Company. Addie here can brief you."

This is starting to ring less of a real honor and more of an underhanded attempt to corner me. He knew I'd do my job. He knew I'd earn this, and now I'm right back where I started. I hide my scowl behind my helmet.

"Yes. Sir."

"This will be imperative. The Dar'Aliit are being redeployed immediately."

There it is. I turn and look at Addie, who steps up.

"The other's came back earlier. I've already debriefed them on what we already had but you brought us the last piece of the puzzle." Addie informs me. "You all will have immediate redeployment to the Nashan sector. Intel from the tactical droid indicated there are several high ranking officers set to meet on Caeopa. We had heard rumors. This confirms it. Our goal is to intercept and capture them for questioning."

Our goal. I glare at the back of Nidor's head.

"This is of the utmost importance, please keep that in mind. Otherwise, you are dismissed." Nidor pauses and turns to me. He crosses both scaly arms over his broad chest with an air of victory. This was an argument without a single shout. And I hate to think that I'm the one who lost.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant Kian."

He stalks off, leaving me alone with Addie who steps a bit closer. "He really has a grudge against you."

"Mutual disrespect," I mutter. "Thought you already knew."

"I knew you two hated each other," Addie pulls off his helmet and sighs. "You don't want this, do you?"

I shrug. "I just want to keep the galaxy safe. If this is the price, I'll pay it."

"Meet me in the briefing room in five, bring the others. I'll give you all the whole run down."

"Yessir." I stalk away from him and glance back at the planet turning in the windows. Someday, I'll beat that Jedi at his own game. And I'll do it without burning down the universe.

4 BBY Calamity Crew Quarters

I already have two for the collection. After this, maybe two more. I look down at the broken lightsabers I keep on my belt. A couple rookie stormtroopers asked about them once, back when I was a trainer.

I think the stories horrified them more than the prospect of a clone carrying lightsabers. They're broken anyway. No real threat.

I leave them to hang off my belt, and pull on my helmet. The second is fresher, a new addition. The other one, it's older than my career here in Winterfang. Not that that means anything. I've only been Commander here a few months.

I've seen Dross eyeing the saber sometimes, though. He nearly died to the second one when that padawan tried to take off his head. Settled for his arm instead, I suppose.

I blink and my HUD comes on. We've got a few hours till we make the drop to the planet surface. The inquisitors are here and crawling all over the ship. They've got their own lightsabers and sticks up their own butts about who should be going out chasing down rogue Jedi.

I'll stick to the fact I own two lightsabers, and I know exactly how I got both of them. That's enough experience for me to say I don't need force sensitive babysitters around.

But the Empire won't see it that way. All governments are the same. Has been since the clone wars. You become a force user and suddenly you're the top dog. Everyone else is just supposed to fall into rank and file.

I toggle the door control and step out into the hallway of the crew quarters. A dark cloaked inquisitor passes by. His glare falls on me, his subordinate.

I almost pity him. They have to think of us as less or else face the reality that they're the leashed dogs of something much, much bigger.

20 BBY Krayt Bomber Bay

The hanger bay is empty. I've managed to avoid the troopers in the halls, and now that the debrief is over I'm clear of all Dar'Aliit members. Mostly because as Lieutenant, I had the power to order them to the barracks to prep for landing. Maybe this whole command thing isn't the worst idea. We'll be dropping out of hyperspace any minute now so I need to hurry up. R3 bumps my leg and I almost curse at him.

The bombers in the hangar all lay dormant. I poke my head around the corner and do a double check. I exhale slowly. I'm no pilot, but this is the only option. Maybe it'll finally get through the General's scaly hide that I do not need help.

"Go," I whisper to R3, now that I've confirmed we're clear. Keeping low, I jog across the hanger to the nearest bomber with the ladder still propped against the side. In a few short steps I'm inside. I slip into the pilot's chair and look at R3. He rolls under the back and vanishes before appearing behind me, snug in the astromech cockpit.

I can hear some of the chatter on the ship running through the comm line I left open but muted, just in case anyone catches wind of what I'm doing.

Now I just have to wait for the blast doors to open.

There's a shudder. I flick switches across the board and watch the controls light up. It looks like a simulator. Not one I did frequently.

"R3," I check our private line. "Ready?"

The shuddering stops. I buckle in. According to Addie's briefing, the plan was to drop out of hyperspace and deploy us, the Dar'Aliit to the surface.The goal, capture one if not all of the separatist leaders on the planet below. Not a difficult job given basically none of them are military leaders.

All we need is information. I know how to get information.

Starlight peeks through overhead. I flick on a few more switches and I can hear the thrusters heating up. I grab the controls and pull back, gently, this thing is more sensitive than Lekku.

Landing gear, gotta put that up.

I hear the ladder clatter off the side. Kriff.

Static over the comms as the bomber hovers, turning carefully toward the shields keeping out the atmosphere.

"Bomber A-17 what are you doing? This is control, I repeat, what are you doing?"

I slam my hand on the comm and shut it off. R3 beeps something nasty at them. I think this droid and I will get along.

The bomber nose comes around. I manage to get it up so we're clear of the other ships, and in the clear for the shields. Now the tricky part, getting out without getting shot.

Static. "Bomber A-17 come in!"

I shove the controls forward and the whole thing zips forward. I'm shoved back by inertia and I pull it around just in time to punch it out of the hanger bay. The panicked static crackles for a few seconds, then it's gone as I'm up in space with nothing but stars around me. It would be beautiful if I had the time to stop and stare.

I push the controls down and head for the planet. The bomber handles much more delicately than I remember. The simulation controls were always sticky, though.

R3 beeps at me.

"I'm aware. We're going down easy, don't worry. I think I know how to handle this." I am only half lying.

The bomber shudders as we hit the upper atmosphere. Caeopa looks blue from outer space, but that's only because so much of the ground has the same blue tint as its oceans. Landing is going to be a royal pain.

I glance back. The republic star destroyer is fading and fast. I swallow hard. The General's certainly going to demote me for this. I'm okay with that.

Give the promotion to someone who wants it. I'm fine on my own. I'm going to protect this galaxy the one way I was taught to, by going out and being canon fodder myself.

"So long, sir."

R3 screams at me. I look down. The controls are also screaming at me. Kriff.

Red lights, klaxons, what does it all mean? The altitude line is off. That isn't good. Kriff. Kriff. Kriff. I jerk at the controls. The bomber takes a dive. R3 beeps wildly.

"Well then you take over, you lump of metal!"

R3 groans. The outside of the ship is starting to burn up in the atmosphere and I am realizing I should've stolen some pilot's helmet. I haul back on the controls as hard as I can. New klaxons are going off. Static cuts in and out. The ground appears without warning through the clouds and there's not enough time to pull up.

"R3, eject!" I yell. The droid whistles, curses at me in binary, and ejects. I cut every thruster, just to slow the descent, and I slam the eject button for myself. The webbing against my chest tightens. I gulp down a breath and in a rush of air I'm free falling. My head spins. There's not enough air up here. I should've waited a few more seconds, or maybe let the droid fly.

This was a dumb idea if I ever had one.

I gasp and my vision fills with spots. I try to blink but the world is just a haze of clouds and ground all spinning together into one dizzy feeling. My stomach flips as gravity sets in and I lose all consciousness.

New chapter sneak peek coming...5/15!

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#star wars #clone trooper oc #clone wars #clone squad #dar'aliit fanfic #fic writer #serialized fiction #jedi oc #jedi killer #read on ao3 #read on wattpad #part 2 is here!#chapter thirteen #lightsaber #jedi #kian is an idiot again #reblog is appreciated #fanfic

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