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melisa-may-taylor72 · 4 years

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QUEEN BEFORE QUEEN

THE 1960s RECORDINGS

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PART 4:

THE OPPOSITION

JOHN DEACON WAS THE QUIETEST MEMBER OF A MIDLAND-BASED FIVE-PIECE WHOSE GREATEST AMBITION WAS TO PLAY ANOTHER GIG.

Initial research John S. Stuart. Additional research and text: Andy Davis.

John Deacon was the fourth and final member to join Queen. He became part of that regal household 25 years ago this month, enrolling as the band’s permanent bassist in February 1971. His acceptance marked the culmination of a six-year ‘career’ in music, much of which he spent in an amateur, Leicestershire covers band called the Opposition.

From 1965 until 1969, Deacon and his schoolmates ploughed a humble, local furrow in and around their Midlands hometown, reflecting the decade’s mercurial moodswing with a series of names, images and styles of music. The most remarkable fact about the Opposition was just how unremarkable the group actually was.

Collectively, they were an unambitious crew: undertaking precisely no trips down to London to woo A&R men; winning only one notable support slot for the army of chart bands who visited Leicester in the ‘60s (opening for Reperata & the Delrons in Melton Mowbray in 1968); and managing even to miss out on the option of sending a demo tape to any of the nation’s record labels. The band’s saving grace is its solé recorded legacy: a three-track acetate — although even this was done for purely private consumption, and has rarely been aired outside the confines of their inner circle.

It is perhaps indicative of the Opposition’s modest outlook that their most promising bid for stardom, a beat contest, was called off before they had the chance to play in the finals. For John Deacon and friends, it seems, merely being in a band was reward enough.

Considering of all of this, it’s easy to imagine the response to the following story, related in the ‘60s to one of the Opposition’s guitarists, Ronald Chester:...[ ]

...[ ] “There was a teacher who worked at Beauchamp School, which John attended, who told fortunes. They went to see her one Saturday and were told, ‘John Deacon is going to be world famous and very, very rich. Of course, they all fell about laughing. She was determined that this was going to happen. But they all thought it was a joke."

What particularly amused Deacon’s colleagues was the unlikeliness of this scenario, given the plain facts of his demeanour. John was born in Leicester in 1951, the product of affluent, middle-class, middle England. As a youngster, he was known to his friends as ‘Deaks’ and grew up to be quiet and reserved, what Mark Hodkinson referred to in ‘Queen — ‘The Early Years’ as “a ghost of a boy".

“He is basically shy,” confirms Richard Young, the Opposition’s first guitarist/vocalist, and later keyboardist. “I suppose he was quieter than the rest of us — but he was fairly static with Queen if you look at him on stage.”

Ron Chester agrees: “John was quiet by nature. His sister, Julie, was the same. Once he got going, though, he wasn’t any different from anybody else. But on first approach, you really had to coax him out of his shell. We’d have to pick him up. He couldn’t walk down the road to meet us."

CONFIDENT

Despite any lack of personal dynamics, Deacon was a capable teenager: “He was very confident," recalls another of the band’s guitarists, David Williams. “But in a laidback sort of way. He didn’t have a problem with anything. ‘Yeah, I can do that’, he’d say. We used to call him ‘Easy Deacon’, not because of any sexual preferences, but because he’d say something was easy without it sounding big-headed. I remember saying to him once, I’m going to have to knock off the gigs a bit to revise for my ‘A’ levels. What about you?’ ‘No’, he said, ‘I don’t need to. I’ve never failed an exam yet, and I’ve never revised for one’. Ultimately, he was just confident, with a phenomenally logical mind. If he couldn’t remember something, he could work it out. And, of course, he got stunning results.”

John’s earliest interest was electronics, which he studied into adulthood. He also went fishing, trainspotting even, with his father. Then music took over. After dispensing with a ‘Tommy Steele’ toy guitar, John used the proceeds from his paper round to buy his first proper instrument, an acoustic, when he was about twelve. An early musical collaborator was a school mate called Roger Ogden, who like Roger Taylor down in Cornwall, was nicknamed ‘Splodge’. But his best friend was the Opposition’s future drummer, Nigel Bullen.

“I’d first got to know John at Langmore Junior School in Oadby, just outside Leicester, in either 1957 or 1958,’' recalls Nigel. “We were both the quiet ones. We started playing music together at Gartree High School, when we were about thirteen. We were inspired by the Beatles — they made everybody want to be in a group. John was originally going to be the band’s electrician, as he called it. He used to build his own radios, before we had any amps, and he fathomed a way of plugging his guitar into his reel-to-reel tape recorder. He was always the electrical boffin."

The prime mover in the formation of the group was another Oadby boy they met on nearby Uplands Park, Richard Young. “Richard was at boarding school," recalls Nigel Bullen. “He was always the kid with the expensive bike. He played guitar, and what’s more had a proper electric, with an amplifier. He instigated getting the band together. Initially, we rehearsed in my garage, and then anywhere we could. John played rhythm to begin with. He was a chord man, the John Lennon of the group, if you like."

SWITCH

Despite his later switch to the bass, Deacon’s technique on the guitar also developed, as Dave Williams reveals: “Later on, I remember he could play ‘Classical Gas’ on an acoustic, which was a finger-picking execise and no mean feat. It’s a bit like ‘McArthur Park’, a fantastic piece of music, and when I heard it, I thought, ‘Bloody hell. You dark horse!’ Because he never showed off."

The Opposition’s first bassist was another school friend of John’s called Clive Castledine. In fact, the group made its debut at a party at Castledine’s ouse on 25th September, 1965 (their first public performance took place the...[ ]

...[ ] following month at Gartree’s school hall). Clive looked good and appreciated the kudos of being in a group, but he wasn’t up to even the Opposition’s schoolboy standards. “I was the least proficient, to put it mildly,” he admitted to Mark Hodkinson.“His enthusiasm was 100%,” adds Richard Young, “but his actual playing ability was null, so we had a meeting and got rid of him.” Deacon took over, initially playing on his regular guitar, using the bottom strings. “John was good,” Young continues. “It was no problem for him to switch to bass. He hit the right notes at the beginning of the bar, and we were a better band for it. Whereas Clive made us sound woolly, as anyone who just plonked away on any old note would, John was solid.”

DIARY

Young turned out to be the Opposition’s archivist, keeping a diary of each gig played, the equipment used, and the amounts of money earned (as indeed did John Deacon). Richard’s diary documented the day Deacon — now, of course, bassist in one of the world’s most famous groups — first picked up his chosen instrument. “In an entry for 2nd April, 1966,” says Young, “it reads, ‘We threw Clive out on the Saturday afternoon. Had a practice in Deaks’ kitchen, and Deaks went on bass. Played much better.’ John didn’t have a bass, so we went down to Cox’s music shop in King Street in Leicester, and bought him an EKO bass for £60. I paid for it, but I think he paid me back eventually.”

“John’s bass style with the Opposition was the same as with Queen,” reckons Nigel Bullen. “He never used to play with a plectrum, which was unusual, but with his fingers, which meant that his right hand is drooped over the top of the guitar. Also, he plays in an upward fashion, which I’d never seen before, certainly when we were in Leicester. Over the years, I’ve watched many bass players adopt that style. I’d say he has been copied a lot. I’ve mentioned this to him, but he doesn’t agree.”

Clive Castledine wasn’t the last member of the band to be dismissed. “The vocal and lead guitar side of the Opposition was changing all the while,” recalls Nigel. “Myself, John, and Richard Young were always there — as were Dave Williams and Ron Chester later on — but we had a succession of other musicians who I can hardly remember now. There was a guy called Richard Frew in the very early days, and a young lad called Carl, but he didn’t fit in. After we began playing proper gigs, Richard decided he wasn’t happy with his singing and wanted to move onto keyboards, so we brought in Pete Bart (formerly with another local band, the Rapids Rave) as a guitarist and vocalist. He was good, but again, didn’t last long.”

“Bart was a bit of a rocker, while we were all mods,” remarks Dave Williams. “We were impressed by mod bands like the Small Faces and the original Who. Bart seemed to come from a different era altogether.”

“Deaks had the Parka with the fur collar,” remembers Ron Chester. “And short hair, a crew cut. Mirrors on his scooter.” Richard Young agrees: “John was more of a mod than us. But you couldn’t really pigeonhole the band, because our music went right across the board”.

”Buying Deacon his bass was no one-off, and Richard Young is remembered as the group’s benefactor. Being older than the others, he had a steady job working for his father’s electronics company in Leicester, which brought him a regular, and by all accounts, generous wage. He rarely thought twice before splashing out on equipment for the other members.

RECEIPTS

“Richard bought me a P.A.,” recalls David Williams. “But he didn’t ask, he used to think that the group needed it. He’d buy it and then say, ‘You owe me this’. My mum used to get really annoyed. She’d was at that going- through-my-pockets stage, probably looking for contraceptives. She once found a receipt from Moore and Stanworth’s, a local music shop. It was for a Beyer microphone, which cost about £30. I was still at school, getting pocket money, and my mum said, ‘What on earth is this?!’ Receipts on the Sunday dinner table, that sort of thing. It was good, though. The group needed it.”

“I was dead serious about the band,” claims Young, who switched to organ with the arrival of Williams in July 1966. “Perhaps more so than anybody else. I could see it going nowhere if money wasn’t pumped into it.”

“Dick Young was an accomplished organ player,” adds Dave, “and he improved the group quite a lot. He always had plenty of dosh, and a car. But he was totally mad, a crazy bloke. He’d come round with an organ one week, then next week, he’d have a better one. He ended up with a Farfisa, with one keyboard on it, then one with two keyboards — one above the other. Then he had a Hammond, an L 100. which was really heavy. Then he had a ‘B’ series one. The ‘L’ was top-of-the-range and he sawed it in half to make it easier to carry!”

Dave Williams helped to improve the group as well. “He was at school with us,” says Nigel Bullen, “but in another band, who we always looked up to.” That band was the Leeds-based Outer Limits (who went on to issue several singles — without Dave — in the late ‘60s). “I joined the Opposition after they asked me to watch them and tell them what I thought,” recounts Dave. “The Outer Limits were older lads, all mods, but I was after something a bit more easy going, and the Opposition were my own age. They were okay, but I first saw them at John’s house, when they were still practising in bedrooms, and they were absolutely awful. I said, ‘Have you thought of tuning up?’ They said they had. But it sounded like they were playing in different keys — totally horrendous. It was so funny. They were so conscientious, they’d all learned their bits, but hadn't tuned up to each other. That was my first tip.”

“Our first proper gig was supporting a local band, the Rapids Rave, at Enderby Coop Hall,” recalls Nigel Bullen. “They used to play at this village hall every week. and then we ended up doing it every week for quite some time.” Richard’s diary records the Opposition’s debut taking place on 4th December 1965, and that the band’s fee was £2. Thereafter, they began to offer their Services in the local ‘Oadby & Wigston Advertiser’, which led to bookings in youth clubs and village halls in local hot-spots like Kibworth, Houghton-on- the-Hill, Thurlaston and Great Glen.

SCHOOL WORK

By spring 1966, the Opposition were playing every weekend, school work permitting. The peaks and troughs of their career are illustrated by the following memorable gigs: one at St. George’s Ballroom, Hinckley, on 23rd June 1967, when just two people turned up and the band went home after a couple of numbers; and a September appearance in a series of shows at U.S. Airforce Bases in the Midlands, at which they were required to play for four-and-half hours with just two twenty-minute breaks. It was nothing if not diverse.

“It didn’t seem to matter what you played,” says Dave. “People would clap simply because you were making music. They never said, ‘Do you do Motown, or soul stuff?’ ” The band’s repertoire initially consisted of chart sounds and the poppier end of the R&B spectrum. “Although we were inspired by the Beatles, we never did any of their songs,” claims Nigel. “But we covered the Kinks, the Yardbirds, and things like Them’s ‘Gloria’, and the Zombies’ ‘She’s Not There’.

They also altered their name slightly to the New Opposition, which they unveiled at the Enderby Coop Hall. “The name-change was decided overnight, when John moved from rhythm to bass guitar,” recounts Richard, whose diary records the date of the transition as 29th April 1966. Interestingly, though, it makes no mention of another local group also called the Opposition, long thought to have been the reason for Deacon’s crew adopting the ‘New’. The change did act as an impetus for further development, however, instigated by Dave Williams, who soon took over as the group’s lead vocalist.

“When I joined they were doing all Beach Boys stuff,” he recalls, “and I think I may have brought in a little credibility. In the Outer Limits, I’d been playing John Mayall, the Yardbirds, that sort of thing, plus that group was into really good soul like the Impressions, and fantastic vocal bands from the States. So I had a broad musical knowledge by then, whereas the Opposition had been a bit poppy.” Appropriately, the words “Tamla” and “Soul” were now added to the Opposition’s ads and calling cards.

Towards the end of 1966, the New Opposition were enhanced further by the arrival of Ron Chester, who’d previously played with Dave Williams in the Outer Limits, as well as in an earlier band, the Deerstalkers. “Ron Chester was a bit eccentric,” claims Richard Young. “He never used to go anywhere without his deerstalker. He was a really good guitarist (“stunning”, adds Dave Williams). We were probably at our best when Ron was in the band.”

On 23rd October 1966, the New Opposition entered the local Midland Beat Contest. They won their heat, landing themselves a place in the semifinals on 29th January 1967. They won this, too, and steeled themselves for the finals, which were due to be held on 3rd March 1967, when they were to be pitched against...[ ]

...[ ] an act called Keny. The stars of the show would have been the nearest the Opposition came to having a rival: an outfit called Legay. (A year later, incidentally, this band issued a now collectable single, “No One” (Fontana TF 904,£80J.) Unfortunately, for all concerned, however, the contest never took place. “That was a fiasco,'' laughs Ron. “Somehow we won those heats, but in fact, I don’t remember seeing anybody else playing. I don’t know whether we won by default or not. After that, they pulled the plug on the competition — probably because they knew we’d be playing again!”.

CASINO

“The heats took place in a club in Leicester called the Casino, which was the place to play,” adds Nigel. “The guy who ran the competition was an agent for the club. His company was called Penguin (or P.S) Promotions and he walked like a penguin too, with his feet sticking out. The final was going to be held in the De Montford Hall, which is still the main venue in Leicester. We thought, ‘Crumbs, this is it, perhaps we might make the big time.’ But the guy did a runner with all the money — people had to pay to come to the heats. So the final was called off.”

David Williams wasn’t too fussed, as he scored another prize that night: “I remember taking a girl back to Dick’s car on the strength of us winning our heat. I said, ‘Can I borrow your keys, Dick? He said, ‘What for? You can’t drive!’ “

Were the New Opposition — or the Opposition, as they dropped the ‘New’ again in early 1967 — left in limbo by the cancellation of the Beat Contest? Having achieved the most public recognition of their talents so far, were they disappointed with the loss of the chance to prove themselves further?

“No. It was almost insignificant,” reckons Ron. “We didn’t really look upon it as a stairway to stardom.” And what would John Deacon have thought? “Nothing really,” suggests Chester. “ ‘It’s cancelled. What are we doing next, then?’ That would have been about the depth of it. We were a village band, all gathering at the church hall to try and improve our abilities. The financial aspect of it wasn’t in the forefront of our minds. We were more concerned with our music, and if we could get a booking doing it as well, to pay off some of the equipment, then that was a real bonus. Three bookings a week was enough for us while we were working or still at school.” Despite any dodgy dealings, history does have the Penguin promoter to thank for the only professionally-taken photograph of the Opposition. (“We didn’t go much on photos in the band,” remembers Dave Williams.) On Tuesday, 31st January 1967, two days after winning the semi-finals, the ‘Leicester Mercury’ dispatched a staff photographer over to Richard Young’s parents’ house in Oadby. Here, the group lined-up in the front room, looking more like refugees from 1964, rather than 1967. The only indications of the actual date are perhaps Ron Chester’s deerstalker hat and the ridiculous length of David Williams’ shirt collars — seven inches, no less, from neck to nipple.

“Dave was very extrovert,” recalls Nigel. “But we all had those silk shirts with the great long collars made by our mums and grandmas for our stage gear.” Dave admits: “Our clothes were all a bit mixed up. We had silk shirts with tweed jackets — which were fashionable for a while — and bell-bottoms. Musically, we were pretty good, better than...[ ]

...[ ] most of the local bands around that time, but we had this squeaky-clean, schoolboy image which let us down. I used to get frustrated when we were billed with other bands, and they’d all play with so many wrong chords but had a better image and still the punters applauded. Were they stupid? We were still at school — we didn’t leave until we were eighteen — and weren’t allowed to grow our hair long”.

“After the mod thing,” he continues, “long hair became really important. Bands were growing their hair right down their backs. I remember getting to one gig with John and Nigel a year or so later, and the other group were already on. And when they saw us they turned round and said, ‘Look! They’ve got no hair!’. We were quite upset about that”.

“We also went through the flower-power look,” Dave adds. “And then we got into those little jumpers without any sleeves that Paul McCartney used to wear, the ones so small that half your stomach showed. And then it was grandad shirts without the collars and flares.” Ron Chester: “The flowery shirts and flared trousers were everywhere. We looked like a right shower of poofters. But so did everybody else. You stood out if you didn’t wear them.”

1967 also heralded the arrival of an additional attraction to the Opposition’s stage show: two go-go dancers. At least, it did if the existing literature on the subject is to be believed. “I vaguely remember it,” admits Richard, “but speaking to Nig, neither of us can recal who those dancers were”.

Dave Williams throws some light on the subject: “They were the jet-set girls of the sixth form, they came from the big houses. They came to a couple of gigs and just started dancing. Somebody who booked us for the following week actually advertised us ‘with go-go girls’. But they were never really part of the show.”

ART

On 16th March, 1968 for a gig at Gartree School, the Opposition changed their name once again. “We called ourselves Art,” reveals Nigel, “because Dave was arty, that is, he was training as an artist. It was as simple as that.” Dave agrees: “It was my idea, because I’d been doing art at school.” Nigel Bullen was aware of another band using that name around the same time (the pre-Spooky Tooth outfit), but assuming them to be American, reckoned they’d be no confusion. As the Leicester-based Art never made it to London, there wasn’t.

Despite wording like “A time to touch and feel, to taste and experience, to hear and understand” appearing on the group’s tickets, Richard maintains that Art was “just the same band” as before. “Nothing changed."

“It was mutton dressed up as lamb, really,” admits Ron Chester. “We thought if we were called something different, people might come because they were curious. But it didn’t make a lot of difference. The audiences were captive at the places we played anyway. There was nowhere else to go on a Friday or Saturday night. Everyone used to roll up to see whoever was on, whether they’d heard of them or not.”

1968 was the year psychedelia caught up with many provincial British bands. The Art were no different, but their acknowledgement of what had been last year’s scene in London was via sight rather than sound. Their light shows seem to have been particularly memorable, as Dave Williams explains: “They were brilliant. We used the projectors from school, filled medicine bottles with water and oil, and projected through them to get this lovely golden, amber backdrop. As the image came out upside down, when we poured in some Fairy Liquid, it dropped straight through in a blob, but came out on the wall like a giant green mushroom cloud. It was amazing, and we had about four of them at the back, projecting over the band.”

John Deacon was party to another of Dave’s exploits. “One day,” recalls Williams, “John and I bought a 100-watt P.A. — which was pretty big for those days — and took it into the lecture theatre full of kids at Beauchamp School (which Deacon had attended since September 1966) for our version of Arthur Brown’s ‘Fire’. We cranked it up as loud as we could, put the light show on, and let off these smoke bombs, which were DDT pellets we’d got from the chemist. All the kids started choking, and then the headmaster walked in...[ ]

...[ ] with a load of governors. You could see the fury in his face. One of the governors asked what we were doing. ‘It’s a demonstration in sound and light, sir,’ I said. ‘We’re using these ink bottles turned upside down, but we’re a bit worried about these DDT pellets so we might knock the smoke on the head, but we’re still experimenting.’ And he fell for it!”.

INFLUENTIAL

Towards the end of 1968, a crop of new groups began to have a profound effect on the maturing schoolboys: Jethro Tull, the Nice, Taste, and in particular Deep Purple. Ron: “We used to buy Purple records and learn to play them. We’d seen John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers and the Downliners’ Sect in Leicester, the Nice, King Crimson. These sort of groups. We learned a lot from just watching them. They were influential. There was always a big discussion in the band as to whether we should do a particular song. Once we’d decided that, there’d be another big discussion as to how we should do it. Everybody had their say.”

Hair, too, had finally began to grow: “John grew his quite long,” recalls Ron. “We all had longish hair, but not shoulder length. We couldn’t look too unkempt for the normal side of life, but we didn’t want to be too prissy for the other end of the spectrum. That was when we started playing universities, and we went a bit heavier. The audiences were far more serious minded about music and more enthusiastic. In some of the youth clubs we’d been playing, the audience would be moving around on roller skates, or peeling bananas all over the place, things like that”.

“We felt we were making an impression towards the last year or two of the band,” he continues. But it went no further: “We were at school, some of us had jobs, and there was an element of common sense overriding what we would have liked to have done. None of us wanted to chuck in our apprenticeships or courses. If we’d had a flair for writing our own material, we might have taken off. But we just played what was popular, nothing different from most other groups. That wasn’t a basis on which to launch ourselves. So it never happened."

“We didn’t think that far ahead,” admits Richard Young. “I just thought of playing and getting repeat bookings. John was probably the least ambitious of all of us, to be honest. I think he felt that there was no mileage in what we were doing, although it was good fun. I think he had the impression that this was a hobby, a phase he was going through.”

Sometime in the Sixties, possibly 1969, but maybe earlier, Art recorded an acetate. Whatever the date, the crucial point is that John Deacon was present at the session. “We weren't asked to do it,” recalls Nigel. “We just wanted to make a disc. I think it cost us about five shillings.”

The venue was Beck’s studio, thirty miles south east of Oadby in Wellingborough, Northamptonshire. “I’d never been in a studio before and it seemed awesome, really,” recalls Dave Williams. “It was a fairly decent-sized room for acoustics. It was all nicely low-lit, with lots of screens. The guy knew what he was doing.” Richard Young was less impressed, though: I’ve been in studios all my life,” he says. “That was just another session. Nothing about it stood out.”

The “guy” Dave remembered was engineer Derek Tomkins, who informed the group that they could record three tracks in the time allotted. “We’d only gone in there with two, ‘Sunny’ and ‘Vehicle’,” says Nigel, “and we didn’t want to waste the opportunity, so Richard knocked up a little instrumental called Transit 3’ — named after our new van, the third one — right there in the studio. Although we were purely a covers band, everybody had a bash at writing, but we never did anything of our own on stage. The exception was Transit 3’, which was incorporated into the set after this session.”

“ Transit 3’ was about about the only track we ever wrote," reckons Richard Young (“Heart Full Of Soul”, as reported in ‘As It Began’, is in fact a Graham Gouldman nurnber). “I initially had the idea, but I can’t really remember anything about it. It’s very basic. It wouldn’t take a great deal of effort to write something like that.” To the objective observer, “Transit 3”, taped in mono but well recorded, is a fairly uncomplicated, organ-led scale- hopper, reminiscent of Booker T & the MGs.

“Everybody was listening to ‘Green Onions’,” confirms Nigel, “so Booker T would have been an influence there.” But for all that, it’s well- played, with memorable lead and twangy, wah-wah guitar passages courtesy of Dave Williams. And, crucially, John Deacon’s thumping bass is plainly audible throughout. On this evidence, the Opposition were clearly a tight, confident outfit. “Transit 3” could have been incorporated into any swinging ‘60s film soundtrack, and no one would have jumped up shouting, “Amateurs”!.

UNFAMILIAR

The other two tracks, covers of Bobby Hebb’s ‘Sunny' and the more obscure, soul- tinged ‘Vehicle’ (later a hit for the Ides of March), featured a vocalist, but an unfamiliar one: another of the Opposition’s fleeting frontmen. “We had a singer for a while called Alan Brown,” recalls Nigel. “He came and went fairly quickly. He was good, really good. Too good for us, I think. That wasn’t him saying that. We just knew it.”

On both songs, Brown is in deep, soulful voice, sounding not unlike a cross between Tom Jones and the early Van Morrison — if such an amalgam can be imagined. The Art’s reading of “Vehicle” is edgy and robust, dominated by Richard Young’s distinctive keyboards and Nigel Bullen’s bustling drum work. Dave Williams is again in fine form, delivering more sparkling wah-wah guitar, while on the cassette copy taped from Nigel Bullen’s acetate, at least, John’s bass is very prominent, over-recorded in fact, booming in the mix.

“Sunny” goes one better, breaking into jazzy 3/4 time halfway through, before slotting back into the more traditional 4/4. It’s an imaginative arrangement, with alternate soloing from both Dave and Richard, while the whole track is underpinned by swirls of Hammond organ and John Deacon’s pounding bass.

“We did ‘Sunny’ as part of our stage set,” says Nigel, “but I don’t recall us ever going into the jazzy bit. That’s quite interesting. We might have talked about that before we went into the studio, but I think it was just for this session. Dave had two guitars, a six-string and a twelve-string, or it could even have been twin-necked. I still quite like the wah-wah he played on that track. By this time Richard would have been onto his second or third organ — he was heavily into Hammonds and Leslies."

Operating as they did in a fairly ambition- free zone, and having prepared the listener for a mundane set of recordings with their trademark laid-back approach, Art’s acetate comes as something of a revelation. Let any bunch of today’s schoolboys loose in a studio for an afternoon and defy them to come up with something half as good!

Just two copies of the Art disc are known to have survived. John Deacon’s mother is believed to own one and Nigel Bullen has the other. “I’d forgotten all about this record,” admits Nigel. “We know that one copy was converted to an ashtray!. We stubbed out cigarettes on Richards at rehearsal one night.” Although treated with anything but respect at the time, the importance of the disc is now apparent to Nigel Bullen: “This is probably John Deacon’s first recording, apart from tracks he did in his bedroom on his reel-to-...[ ]

...[ ] reel, which are probably long gone. Although, knowing John, they’re probably not!”

The beginning of the end for Art came in June 1969, when John Deacon left Beauchamp. With a college course lined up in London, his days with the band were obviously numbered. He played his final gig with the group on 29th August at a familiar venue, Great Glen Youth and Sports Centre Club. By October, he’d moved to London to study electronics at Chelsea College of Technology, part of the University of London.

Another blow was dealt in November, when the band's lynchpin, Richard Young, left to join popular local musician Steve Fearn in Fearn’s Brass Foundry.

“They were a Blood, Sweat and Tears-type of group,” recalls Richard, “and paid better money than I’d been used to. I was out five nights a week, on about £3 per night, against an average of about £10 between us.” The previous year, Richard had played session keyboards on the Foundry’s two Decca singles: “Don’t Change It” (F 12721, January 1968, £10) and “Now I Taste The Tears” (F 12835. September 1968, £8).

SAVAGE

Ron Chester departed shortly afterwards, and gave up music: “I left in the early 70s, after John Deacon moved to London. John was replaced by a bass player was called John Savage, who unsettled me. He had different tastes and drove us a bit hard. His approach was totally different from Deaks's, and he was much more interested in the financial side of things. We’d all been mates before, we didn't just knock about for the band. It just wasn’t the same.”

Nigel, Richard and Dave pushed on into 1970 with the new bassist, changing the band’s name again, this time to Silky Way. They returned to Beck’s studio to record a cover of Free’s “Loosen Up” with another vocalist, Bill Gardener, but that was the band’s last effort. Dave left after falling into Nigel’s drumkit, drunk on stage at a private party one Christmas. “I waited for them to pick me up the next day,” he recalls sheepishly, “but they never carne.”

Richard and Nigel moved into a dinner- dance type outfit called the Lady Jane Trio — “Corny, or what!”, laughs Bullen — but Nigel left music altogether soon afterwards to concentrate on his college work. Richard turned professional, moving into cabaret with the Steve Fearn-less Brass Foundry, before forming a trio called Rio, finding regular work on the holiday camp and overseas cruise circuit. In the late ‘70s, he joined a touring version of the Love Affair.

Down in London, John Deacon caught a glimpse of his future world-beating musical partners as early as October 1970, when he saw the newly-formed Queen perform at College of Estate Management in Kensington. “They were all dressed in black, and the lights were very dim too,” he told Jim Jenkins and Jacky Gunn in ‘As It Began’, “All I could really see were four shadowy figures. They didn’t make a lasting impression on me at the time.”

While renting rooms in Queensgate, John formed a loose R&B quartet with a flatmate, guitarist Peter Stoddart, one Don Cater on drums and another guitarist remembered only as Albert. The new band was hardlv a great leap forward from Art: they wrote no originals, and when asked to perform their only gig at Chelsea College on 21st November 1970, supporting Hardin & York and the Idle Race, they hastily billed themselves — in a rare fit of self-publicity for the quiet Oadby boy — as Deacon.

A few months later in early 1971, John was introduced to Brian May and Roger Taylor by a mutual friend, Christine Farnell, at a disco at Maria Assumpta Teacher Training College. They were looking for a bassist. John auditioned at Imperial College shortly afterwards. Roger Taylor recalled Queen’s initial reaction to Deacon in ‘As It Began’: “We thought he was great. We were so used to each other, and so over the top, we thought that because he was quiet he would fit in with us without too much upheaval. He was a great bass player, too — and the fact that he was a wizard with electronics was definitely a deciding factor!”

How did the members of the Art/Opposition back in Leicester, view John’s success with Queen? “It wasn’t sudden”, says Ron Chester. “First we heard he’d got into another group. We couldn’t believe that — were they deaf? There were all these sort of jokes going along. Then we heard he’d got a recording contract and the next thing he had a record out. It was a gradual progression. No one dreamed he would end up the way he did.”

“I don’t think we expected success for any of us" admits Nigel Bullen. “Richard maybe. He was the first one to go professional. But when John left for London to go to college, he left all his kit here. I thought that was the end of it for him. He had absolutely no intention of continuing. His college course was No.1. It was only after he kept seeing adverts for bass players in the ‘Melody Maker’ that he became interested again.”

He also seemed to lose some of that ‘Easy Deacon’ touch which so impressed Dave Williams in the ‘60s. “He’d ring up these bands,” continues Nigel, “but when he found they were a name act, he bottle out. When he went to auditions for anonymous bands, where he would queue up with about thirty other bass players, he had a bit of confidence. He just wanted to play in a decent band. Once I heard what Queen had recorded at De Lane Lea, and John played me the demo of their first album, I thought they were well set.”

CABARET

By early 1973, Dave Williams had forsaken a career in animation to join Highly Likely, a cabaret outfit put together by Mike Hugg and producer Dave Hadfield on the back of their minor hit, “Whatever Happened To You (The Likely Lads Theme)”. While Dave was in the band, they recorded a follow-up single which wasn’t released, before evolving into a glam rock outfit, Razzle, which later become the Ritz, who issued a few singles. “During Queen’s early days, before they’d had any real success, John came to see us once,” recalls Dave, “and said, ‘I wish I was in a band like this which could actually play some gigs’.” Dave concludes: “I remember John coming round once around that time, saying I’ve got a demo’. ‘So have I!’, I said. So we put his on first, and the first track was ‘Keep Yourself Alive’. My mouth dropped wide open and I thought. ‘Bloody hell! What a great track’. I remember saying that the guitarist was as good as Ritchie Blackmore — who was still our hero then — and thinking ‘They’re serious about this. This is the real thing’.”

RECORD COLLECTOR Nº 198 FEBRUARY 1996

⬅PREVIOUS: SMILE

https://melisa-may-taylor72.tumblr.com/post/639672109315014656/queen-before-queen-the-1960s-recordings

➡NEXT: IBEX, WRECKAGE & SOUR MILK SEA

@natromanxoff, @mephisto92, @moviestorian, @x5vale, @39-brian, @onegoldenglance, @crosmopolitan, @an-abyss-called-life, @his-majesty-king-mercury, @i-live-for-queen, @brian-39-may, @toomuchlove-willkillyou, @brimaymay, @sail-away-sweet-sister, @drummerqueenrmt, @old-fashioned-roger-boy, @briianmaay, @inui-mycroft, @deacytits, @iminlovewithrogscar, @drowseoftaylor, @brianmayislongaway, @balticlover, @astrophysicist-guitar-god, @miez-lakatz, @brianmayoucease, @jesus-in-a-life-boat, @aslongasthereismusic, @roger-taylors-car, @silapril, @sherrifanciesfriskyfreddie, @tenderbri, @brianmydear, @thosequeenboys, @millionairewaltz-carpediem, @painandpleasure86, @bribrifrenchfry, @xlucylennonx, @a-night-at-the-abbey-road, @inthedayswhenlandswerefew, @madformeddowstaylor, @queenrogertaylorfan, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @queen-for-life, @rethought, @drivenbybrianmay @mymakeupmaybeflaking, @old-but-still-a-child, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @warriorteam1924, @funnydressesweirdhairanddance, @painkiller80, @thefanhuman13, @yourtieddownmother, @hgmercury39, @brimi-stardust, @thefairyfellermercury, @retroromantics, @sailawaysweetbrimi, @sophiaintheskywithdiamonds, @holybrianmaywritingbear, @lydiannode, @39-yellow-daffodils , @ure-gonna-loveme-when-u-seeme, @kaykaybeachgirl, @foxmonkey, @deakysgurl, @redspecialandclogsandcurls, @briansrainbowsocks-deactivated2, @delilahmay39, @ohmybribri, @bless-the-queen, @everythingaboutfreddie, @doitforthevine67, @recordsoftheseventies, @rhysjoejoshtomfarisblog, @tenementfunsterwithpurpleshoes, @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band, @beatlegirl1968, @maylorsqueen, @autumnscenemcyt, @gralto, @alittlepeoplemagic, @rainbowsockbrian, @frejudy, @drivenbybri, @yourlocalmusicalprostitute, @saik-ava, @omb-xx, @sassymaylor, @somekindofroger, @starlightmay, @freddiemercuryismylife, @sunshine112, @chrysochromulina, @glitteryloveravenue, @deakyislife51, @0-primejive-0, @just-a-skinny-lad, @bluewillowmom, @sassiesillie, @stesichoreanpalinode, @farrokhbulsaramercury, @tayloredofqueen, @rushingheadlong, @izzy-is-slightly-mad, @scandalacious, @0-my-fairy-queen-0 @39-volunteers-to-space@zodiacaldust, @deakytaylor, @queenband70s, @deakyeveryday, @drivenbybrimay @70smay

#Queen Before Queen #Pre-Queen Series #John Deacon #The Opposition #🎤🎵🎸👑⭐

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flamingo-writes · 4 years

Text

Yours/His— Wakatoshi x Reader

Summary: Despite being completely different people, you found comfort in each other’s company. And after a couple of years of friendship, it seemed only natural that the two of you fell in love with each other. Even though you weren't the “type” of girl Ushijima Wakatoshi liked. However, you were the first girl to ever make him feel like that.

Posted: 08.14.2020

A/N: I intended this to be a short fluffy drabble...inspired by the song Shooting Star. But then, as I began writing, it all gt out of hand and I ended up writing 8K words...What’s more impressive is that I managed to write them in two days, so, that’s a new record for me. Happy late birthday to Wakatoshi, I guess.

Word Count: 8.6 K

Warnings: Smut, smutty smut. And curse words.

If there was a word to describe you, it was: wild. It was incredibly amazing how someone as wild as you managed to be in a relationship with Ushijima Wakatoshi. To his friends seemed only obvious, while the rest of the school thought it was ironic.

Ushijima Wakatoshi was known for being not very bright, and yet, the ace player in the volleyball team. He was stronger than most, he was disciplined enough to never skip practice, even disciplined enough to always hand in homework even though he wasn't the brightest student. He had a weird fascination with following the rules. And had his mind set on his goal.

Along the way, he has had a few crushes here and there, but those girls never seemed to stick around for long. These girls followed the imposed image of the 'perfect wife' according to his mother. Gentle, polite, pretty, dedicated to their studies, and supportive. However, that last trait was always put to test, since Ushijima's obsession with Volleyball was usually what made his relationships end. He never truly loved a girl enough to stick with her for long.

At least, not before you. The two of you met thanks to Satori. And it didn't come as a surprise that you and Satori were best friends. You were both equally chaotic and clever.

And boy, you were clever. Whereas you weren't precisely the gentlest, nor the politests, you sure were dedicated to your studies, and incredibly supportive.

Sure, you constantly came off as rude for addressing people by their first name right after meeting them, and you usually spoke your mind through sarcastic remarks, sometimes hurting people in the process. But god, Ushijima's friends admired your patience since you were always willing to help him with his homework and helped him study, since Ushijima seemed to struggle with complicated classes like vocab and calculus.

You managed to effortlessly come up with ways to help him learn kanji, and with such easy explanations for calculus. Not only your patience, but your passion when it came to teaching, it didn't surprise anyone when you told them you wanted to be a teacher.

"You're very good at it" Walatoshi said once.

Your constant presence around Wakatoshi, as well as him constantly relying on you for several things not only made your friendship grow slowly, but a sort of endearment took over you whenever it came to Wakatoshi. Whereas you were sarcastic and sometimes mean to others, you had a terribly obvious soft spot for him. Something even Wakatoshi could tell.

This different treatment made him feel good, if he said so himself. He liked to be the only one who was immune to your wild mood swings and sometimes hurtful sarcasm. Even between your friends, your jokes sometimes got out of hand, but by this point your friends knew it was in your nature.

The stoic, serious, and intimidating Ushijima Wakatoshi was the only one safe from the equally intimidating, laidback, explosive you. And soon, this gentle treatment not only got into his head, it slowly made its way to his heart. And after a year and a half of highschool, he admitted his feelings for you, not only to himself, but to Tendou.

"Oh, shit, I knew this was gonna happen!" Satori laughed. "Oh boy, Semi is gonna be so pissed when he finds out!" Pulling his phone at once, texting Semi at the speed of light.

"Why is that?" Wakatoshi said, hearing the soft clicks Tendo's phone made as he texted.

"I made a bet with him. He betted [Name]-chan was gonna fall in love first, I said it was going to be you. And for a moment, I thought he was gonna win" Tendo giggled mischievously, proud as if it had been his doing instead of fate.

"Semi betted that she was gonna develop feelings for me first?" Wakatoshi wasn't used to the feeling of his cheeks burning gently, and certainly, he wasn't aware of the fact that he was blushing, very much to Satori's amusement.

"Yes! And actually, she's not far from falling down that hill, so, now that I won my bet, I can help you steal her heart, tiger" Satori winked and hit Wakatoshi gently on the ribs with his skinny elbow.

"You think I need your help?" Wakatoshi asked, completely clueless.

"Well, normally, I'd say yes. But I'm pretty sure if you keep being yourself, she'll eventually be heads over hills for you" Wakatoshi frowned at this, confused by what Satori meant.

"Why would she be heads over hills?"

"Oh boy, this is why she finds you cute. It's figure speech, dude. It means she'll be madly in love with you"

"So, I should just keep being me?" His eyebrows relaxed at this and sighed deeply, relieved.

"Yeah, if you wanna speed that process, ask her out or whatever…I hope Semi sees his phone soon" Satori chuckled sheepishly.

Ushijima never realized how easy it was to be your friend. You were always there whenever he needed a hand, whether if it was for school or if he was dealing with personal issues. To the point of learning basic volleyball skills and knowledge to help him train on the weekends.

And just as you were always there for him, he always was for you. The thing about being as free spirited as you were, meant you'd have a lot of people chasing after your igniting freedom. And Wakatoshi was the perfect guy to scare off the guys who didn't have good intentions or those who wouldn't take no for an answer. Just like keeping you sane from the school work and pressure of keeping straight A's to keep your scholarship by distracting you, taking you out to play volleyball with him, sometimes he dragged you along his jogs around the streets, sometimes just to hang out in his dorm.

But then the fear washed over him like very few things in life. The fearless Shiratorizawa Monster, afraid of asking his best friend out on a date and possibly crossing the line. What if he ended up breaking your heart in the process? Or if he scared you away? What if things went perfectly fine, but given your nature, his mother and you didn't get along?

He hated to admit it, but he was terribly attached to his family. And the idea of defying or starting any kind of family drama unsettled him.

The idea of losing you terrified him even worse, though. And clung to the idea of staying your friend for years and years to come. Everything would be easier if you just stayed friends. Right?

He was afraid of flying too close to the sun.

At least until he did, and found out his wings weren't made out of wax. Or maybe, he wasn't even flying close to the sun, instead he was chasing after a shooting star.

His feelings for you got out of hand one night. One blissful night, in which he learned so much about himself as a man. And about you. By the end of the night, he knew that you were the perfect match for him, regardless of what everyone expected of him. By the end of the night, he was yours. and you were his.

The last party before graduating. Before he left Shiratorizawa and joined a professional volleyball team. And before you went to university and majored in history.

The traditional Third Year Graduation Party took place not so far away from your place, and as expected, this party turned wilder than the one from the previous year, as the tradition dictated.

Very much against his will, Wakatoshi was dragged to the party by Satori. And for the first hour he was beyond uncomfortable trying to avoid the drunken people and their fuckery.

"Toshi, you keep disappearing!" You sang upon finding your friend for a fifth time within the same hour.

"I'm sorry, it's not on purpose" He said leaning closer to you so you could hear him among the chaos taking place in such a small house "This much noise and close space makes me uncomfortable" He said.

"C'mon, lets go outside" You said, grabbing his arm and guiding him through the crowd "I could use some fresh air myself" You walked out the door, towards the front yard and into the sidewalk away from the people gathered in the garden.

Wakatoshi noticed how your steps were slightly clumsier and your cheeks seemed to be rosier than usual.

"Are you okay?" He asked, still not sure what was it about you that was different, but definitely noticing something was off.

"I'm tipsy, and I'm having a good time" You said clinging to his arm as you sat down on the edge of the sidewalk and stared at the sky. "But if I keep drinking, I'll go from tipsy and fun to wasted and cringy, and we do not want that"

"Oh" Wakatoshi murmured sitting next to you, his shoulder brushing yours.

"It was the vodka. I've drunk sake before, and normally don't get drunk this fast. But a single glass of vodka with juice and I'm already like this" You giggled pointing at your face.

"You want me to take you home?" He asked.

"Nah, I just got here" You sighed looking at your friend. "Unless, you want to get away from here" You said looking into your friend's eyes.

"How did you…" His voice trailed off.

"Ushijima Walatoshi, I know you, and I can tell you would like to be somewhere else but here. C'mon, let's go home"

"Didn't you want to stay?"

"I got what I wanted, I got tipsy with cheap foreign alcohol, and I wanted to have fun. I had both, and now, I'd like to have fun with you, Toshi-kun. And if you need to go somewhere else to have fun, then I'll gladly go wherever you go" You smiled, noticing how Wakatoshi smiled softly upon hearing you.

"Isn't your mom home?" He was worried that you might get in trouble for arriving home drunk, however, he forgot your mother was considerably younger than the average, and was a lot more open minded than most moms Wakatoshi knew.

"She said she was gonna go drinking with her friends from the office, and she told me that as long as I didn't come back drunker than her, then it was all fine"

"Oh" He purred "You think she'll get drunk?"

"Of course! Not drunk enough for it to be a problem, but drunk enough to not mind if I get drunk" You giggled.

"You want to get drunk?"

"No, not really. I'd like to stay tipsy for a few more hours, but I can do that with the sake my mum has at home"

"Isn't she gonna mind?

"Gosh, stop worrying and let's go! It's gonna be fine, I promise!"

With a single hop you stood up and offered Wakatoshi your hand to help him up. He chuckled, thinking how easy it was for you to be so carefree when he would be worrying about all the circumstances. He grabbed your hand, more as a courtesy, since he didn't have a single problem standing up, but still felt the urge to feel your small hand in his.

Once he was standing on his feet, his gut twisted and tickled upon noticing how you didn't let go of his hand. The sweet anxiety drew a wider smile on his face as he walked next to you, still holding onto your hand. He wondered if it was because you were drunk.

The party was barely a 20 minute walk from your house, so Wakatoshi didn't even have to ask where you were going, as he noticed how you took the way uphill, towards your place.

The wind was chilly, but not enough for it to be a problem. Besides, you were walking, legs warming up as the street inclined slowly. Still holding your hand, every so often, he'd look at you, blessing his eyes and his heart with the gentle sight of the absentminded smile on your face as you hummed.

He remembered the many times Semi asked you to sing a song with him and record it, but you always refused since you were shy and only sang when you felt comfortable and only around those you trusted the most.

"[Name], c'mon, your voice is gorgeous!" Semi said one time he showed you a song he'd written, and Wakatoshi had been there in the dorm when it happened.

Soon, you kept flattering him with subtle actions. Holding his hand, quietly walking uphill in the middle of the night, and now, the soft humming slowly evolving into singing. Your soft voice singing in a low voice, a song he couldn't name, but thought it was a cute song.

He didn't say anything until you finished singing with a loud sigh. He looked at you dreamily as you looked at your house slowly appearing on the horizon.

"That was beautiful"

"Thank you, Toshi" You whispered, savouring his name on your lips.

The hill was covered in small white houses, all of them looking pretty similar. In front of the stretching wall of houses, there was a lookout, decorated with a nice iron balcony, and one feet tall concrete cubes following the edge of the sidewalk to keep cars for parking near the edge.

You walked towards the lookout, stopping before one of the concrete cubes and stepping on one of them.

No longer feeling tipsy, you effortlessly hopped on top, letting go of Wakatoshi's hand in the process and balancing your arms. However, Wakatoshi wasn't sure if you still felt drunk, and instinctively stretched one of his arms to your waist, helping you balance.

"Easy there," He said.

"It's okay, I got this" you said, resting one of your hands on his shoulder.

Now standing on the concrete cube, you were taller, shortening the height difference between you and your friend. Not used to this new height, you gazed around you.

"Is this what it feels like being so tall?" You broke the silence as Wakatoshi looked away from the view and towards you.

"Yeah, I guess" He chuckled softly, gazing at you.

You locked stares with his olive eyes, thinking it only made sense how many girls fell for those sweet captivating orbs. Sure, he looked stoic most of the time, still his eyes were beautiful. Even more so when he was smiling, just like he was now.

The sort of comfortable smile that appeared when he was around his close friends, having a good time, not thinking of responsibilities. It was a unique smile you adored so much. And right now, you had that smile to yourself alone.

"How nice" You murred as your mind focused on his hand, still on your waist. Feeling the weight and the warmth burning through your skin. "Being this tall. Specially for a guy, tall guys are a blessing, I swear, there's something so stupidly attractive about a tall guy"

"Well, yeah. But finding shoes of my size is kinda of a problem…" You giggled at his remark. "Trousers too"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Japan isn't precisely tall-people friendly, is it?" You remarked.

"Yeah" Wakatoshi nodded.

"Toshi"

"Hmm?"

"Close your eyes" He looked at you and blinked a few times, confused, curious, before asking.

"Okay. What for?"

"Listen to the city breathe" You closed your eyes and remained silent, trying to focus on the sweet hums of the city, the traces of the sounds that brought a city alive.

"Sometimes I don't understand what you say" He said bluntly, closing his eyes.

"Me neither. And that's okay" You giggled opening your eyes.

You stared at Ushijima savouring the gentle breeze hitting his face, as he listened closely to the sounds of the city. Not noticing you were staring at him with a stare that seemed to melt into a puddle of adoration.

You leaned closer to him, kissing the corner of his mouth so delicately, Ushijima took a while to realize what had happened. And once he did, he opened his eyes and gazed at you, noticing the blush on your cheeks as your stare seemed to scan his face bit by bit.

"[Name]..." He whispered.

"Did you know" You cut him off with a soft voice "Satori and Semi had a bet going on?"

"Ye-yeah…" He admitted.

"Those idiots won't tell me who won. Do you happen to know who did?" You raised an eyebrow, knowing he knew, but had your suspicions that he wouldn't tell you either.

"Yes" He said coldly.

"And?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not—"

"Of course" You interrupted him once more "I should've known that you'd be on their side" You giggled. "Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know you like me. And I like you, too. A lot, actually. But always felt a bit scared of saying it"

Wakatoshi stared at you, wondering where this whole honesty was coming from. He knew alcohol had this effect in people, but right now you were moving a lot more coordinated and spoke eloquently as always.

"Are you still drunk?"

"No, not really" You sighed "But, we're graduating next week, and, I promised myself I'd tell you before graduation"

Something about you enchanted him so much. Your wild, untamed and spontaneous nature, sometimes rubbed off on him. Specially as time went by, he realized he was becoming less and less strict with himself, allowing himself to be spontaneous every once in a while, although, not as frequently as regular people his age were.

But this time was different. As soon as he thought about it, he acted. He knew that the less he reasoned his thoughts, the easier it'd be to act.

He leaned closer, one of his hands reached your cheek and pulled you closer to him, as he crashed his lips with yours. His lips pressing gently against yours as a surprised hum escaped your lips before giving in to the kiss.

You kissed him back, locking lips and breathing in deeply. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you pulled him closer, eager to feel his body next to yours. He mirrored your movements and squeezed you, snaking his arms around your waist. Very tightly. Such closeness allowed you to feel the rise and fall of his chest as you kissed over and over and over again. He felt the traces of cranberry juice in your breath, though he didn't give it much of a thought, he was far more busy savouring the kiss itself.

The both of you losing all sense of time and orientation. The both of you got lost in the moment, feeling the anxiety build up in your stomach as you remained kissing desperately, as if the world was about to end.

The kiss that had been haunting him in his dreams finally happened, in a much better way than he ever imagined. Your hands moving across his back, as he felt your fingers brush his hair before you closed your grip on his hair, as your mouth fought for dominance.

Your tight grip on his hair, along with your tongue teasingly brushing his lip, and your body pressed against his, it all played out like an orchestra. Building the tension, kissing you and holding you close, suddenly wasn't enough. His body urged him for more, in a feeling he knew all too well, but wasn't used to feeling.

For someone who has had a few girlfriends here and there, none of them ever made him feel like this. For so long he thought love and intimacy weren't as big of a deal as everyone made it out to be. For so long he only thought of his girlfriends as companions, and never really felt the urge to kiss them, to touch them, to hold them close.

This feeling was too new for him, it made him feel slightly awkward. But you seemed to fully give in and play along with his needy contact.

You broke the kiss, panting breathless, resting your forehead against Wakatoshi's.

"Lets go inside" you breathed.

He nodded, as he wondered what would happen next. He wasn't stupid. He'd seen enough movies and series to know what would happen next. However, he was still so new to the whole thing. Not because he was a virgin, he wasn't. But because sex never appealed to him. The times he'd had sex with his ex girlfriends was mostly out of responsibility, not because he wanted nor felt the urges everyone said teenagers felt.

However, now everything was different. His heart was racing fast, his mind was clouded, and he felt his blood burning his entire body, especially in awkward areas.

He obediently followed you, as you still clung to his hand. You made your way to your place. Your house was dark, though the dim streetlights filtered through the windows, making it easy to find your way across the blue and yellow halls and towards your bedroom.

You stopped briefly in the kitchen, where you let go of Wakatoshi's hand and turned on the light.

"Can I offer you something? Anything? Something to eat, something to drink?" You asked politely.

"A glass of water would be nice"

You nodded and grabbed a couple of glasses and filled them with water silently, feeling slightly nervous at the thought of taking Wakatoshi to your bedroom.

Not because it was the first time. In fact, he'd spent enough weekends at your place, as you helped him study for tests. Sometimes in a big group, sometimes just the two of you. He wasn't a stranger to your house, nor to your room, not even to your bed, since he'd constantly sit on your bed while studying, and even sometimes he'd fall asleep and nap.

But this was completely different. Even kissing him felt slightly weird. Not in a bad way. In fact, you'd been fantasizing about that moment for a long while now. But, the idea of taking him to your room in this context made you anxious. Almost as if you were a virgin all over again.

You handed him his glass and jerked your head, as if telling him to follow you through the stairs and towards your room.

Wakatoshi definitely liked your room. He always felt at peace there. It was minimal, yet, everything about it screamed your name. It felt like a second home to him.

With barely any furniture. Just a single night stand, standing tall next to the mattress on the ground. Several piles of stacked books working as tables for random trinkets you've been collecting along the way. A small coffee table next to your bed which you used as a desk with a lot of stationary messily lying around. Despite spending the weekends in the Shiratorizawa dorms, your room smelled a lot of your perfume, and that was probably his favorite part of your room. A smell he resembled a lot to home. A smell he was so eager to get drunk of.

He followed you silently towards your room, as you walked inside, placing the glass on the coffee table. Wakatoshi replicated your movements. As you sat on the edge of the bed, you waited for Wakatoshi to do the same. And once he did, you nervously wrapped your arms around him, and brought him closer, kissing him once more.

The same hunger as before lit up instantly, as the anxiety building up in his belly only made it all worse. He clung to you, desperately, as if he was about to lose you.

A moan escaped your throat in the middle of the fiery kiss, prompted by his strong arms squeezing you against him. That moan made his back shiver, as he felt a rather familiar heat grow in his crotch.

You leaned back, without breaking the kiss, and your arms still around his shoulders, you brought him along with you as you laid on the bed. Wakatoshi leaned closer, resting his weight on one of his forearms against the mattress, and using his free hand to cling to your waist.

"[Name]" he purred in a gentle voice, breaking the kiss and looking into your eyes.

Swallowed by the darkness, your eyes shone with the reflection of the streetlight as you looked at him both devouring him with a tender stare. Inviting him to keep going. Only making his whole body get hotter and hotter. He wondered if your heart beated as fast as his, and if you were starting to feel as horny as he was.

Horny, he thought. Just thinking about it made him feel weird. Dirty. He'd never really felt horny. And now he was not only feeling that way, but because of you. His best friend. He wasn't supposed to be feeling like this because of one of his friends, was it? He knew it was wrong. But kissing you felt so right. The dichotomy only made him feel more and more turned on. Maybe it was wrong to feel horny for one of your friends, but he'd been a good boy and followed the rules for as long as he can remember. Maybe, going bad from time to time wasn't so bad. He felt an urge to misbehave and be spontaneous. He felt an urge to take you and make you his.

"Lay down" You said sitting up as he looked at you, puzzled.

"What?"

"You heard me! lay down, big boy" You said playfully as Wakatoshi did as you told.

You thought of crawling on top of him before it occurred to you to go to your mother's room and look for something in her drawers. You stood on your feet and looked at Toshi as his olive eyes seemed to shine in golden tones amongst the darkness painted with dim lights.

"Give me a minute, okay? I won't take long" you said shyly.

"Where are you—"

"Make yourself at home!" You said before rushing out of your room and into your mother's across the hall.

Being a single mother, and having your only child attend a school with dorms sure gave you the liberty of bringing partners into your home without worrying that your child will break in, ruining the intimacy. And you thought it was great. How awkward must it be to arrive home and find your mother banging some dude? Besides, you knew where her condom stash was.

You looked through her drawer and grabbed a few condoms for yourself before rushing back in the room. The anxiety building a knot in your throat as the condoms seemed to weight a lot more than they usually did. As you walked inside, you found Wakatoshi comfortably lying on your bed, eyes closed, and breathing in deeply, getting drunk with your scent.

The weep of the old wooden door caught his attention as he saw you walk inside, closing the door behind you. You approached the bed without saying anything. Kneeling, you put the condoms over the coffee table and took off your shirt without saying anything.

Wakatoshi's heart skipped several beats, as he forgot to breathe upon seeing you. Your chest now exposed him, making him feel thirsty, as his eyes traveled up your belly and to your chest. Realising he'd been staring at your breast, still hidden under a bra, he looked up, meeting your stare.

Speechless, his body paralysed briefly. And you began crawling on top of him. He felt his body begin shaking softly in anticipation, as his head felt lighter. He was nervous. He was excited, and delighted.

His hands found your waist and pulled you towards him, before trapping your lips in a breathless kiss. His digits were quick to travel across your back, feeling goosebumps surfacing your skin. Playing with the hook of your bra, and the delicate straps on your shoulders, he felt the urge to tear your clothes off at once, but at the same time, he wanted to taste the whole scene.

The heat was getting out of hand, as he broke the kiss and pushed you aside gently so he could take his shirt off before lying back on the mattress, and pulling you on top of him once more.

The blissful moment he felt your weight fall over his naked chest, all traces of anxiety and shy insecurity were gone. Now replaced with a needy urge he still felt ashamed of admitting. Caught in another hot wet kiss, you noticed Ushijima struggling to unhook your bra. You giggled into his lips before helping him out and taking your bra off.

He broke the kiss with a soft grunt. He sat up, as you followed him, sitting on his lap. He kissed your neck and your shoulders. You whimpered, whispering his name as he kissed and bit your skin like a hungry animal.

His hands made their way to your breasts as he held them firmly, squeezing them, and feeling the satisfaction of stealing a loud moan from your lips.

"You like this?" He asked, genuinely curious, as you nodded breathlessly.

"Don't stop, Toshi" you breathed as he kissed your jaw. "Toshi"

He growled, as your nipples puckered between his fingers, teasingly pulling and squeezing, as his name continued to echo the room between moans.

"I like hearing you call my name" He purred against the skin of your neck.

"Oh, you're in for a ride, babe. I'm just getting started" You chuckled.

Hearing you call him that made his heart squeeze dearly. Babe. He never actually had his ex girlfriends call him anything but by his first name. God, his girlfriends were so unbearably polite, and his relationships were so short, they never got to stick around long enough to give him any sort of pet name.

"You okay?" You asked upon noticing how he had been staring at you for a few seconds, as he tried to assimilate those feelings of passion and endearment consuming him.

"Yeah" He purred "You're beautiful"

"Gosh, are you always this sweet to your girlfriends?" You whimpered kissing the corner of his mouth.

"Just you," He said, closing his eyes, enjoying the trail of delicate kisses you left across his face.

"Kiss me, Toshi" You murmured "I want you so bad, babe"

His arms around you squeezed you once more, as he desperately kissed you once more.

"You've got me, darling" he whispered between kisses.

Wakatoshi swallowed your moans into the kiss, as his hands kept traveling up and down your body. Your warmth around him, your smell caressing him delicately, and your lips melting into his, with the purest of feelings melting all around you.

He had never felt like this before. He had never felt so eager to feel someone against his burning skin. He never felt the desire to pleasure someone else for his own pleasure. This newfound passion burned so good, he could understand how people could easily become addicted to sex.

He broke the kiss, cupping your cheek in one of his big hands, as he kissed your cheeks, going down your jaw and neck. He stopped there and snuggled his face on the crook of your neck, and took a deep breath, feeling like the world was spinning too fast. He felt euphoric, ecstatic, marveled.

"What is it?" You broke the silence, brushing his hair with your fingers.

"I'm enjoying this" He purred, squeezing you once more, as you kissed his head and hugged him back.

"You're adorable" You admitted.

"Thanks," He said, satisfied.

"Toshi?" You broke the hug, looking at him in the eye, and feeling your cheeks blush at the thought of what you were about to ask. This made you feel particularly silly, since you'd done this several times before, and you hadn't felt this shy in a long time.

"Yes, darling?" He said looking into your eyes.

"Let me do something for you"

"What is it?"

"Do you ever not ask questions?" Your voice suddenly was loud with amusement.

"I don't think so, no" He chuckled awkwardly.

"Such a curious mind, are you not? How precious, how delicious" You sang.

"You're talking weirdly again, [Name]" He said amused by how dreamily you looked when you suddenly started talking like that.

"I'm not gonna apologise for spending my free time reading poetry and writing poetic prose" You snapped, idly playing with the button of his jeans.

"You should write a book" he said, noticing the way your fingers were moving, trying to delicately undo his jeans.

"Oh, I'm gonna. Just you wait" He felt nervous and hot as your fingers lingered in his crotch, as he felt his erection keep throbbing in anticipation.

"I've never asked you but, what do you write about?" He stuttered, trying to distract himself from the gentle touch of your hands against him.

"So many years of friendship and you've never asked. That is true. That's true for you and pretty much all of my friends, except for Semi. But because he writes too. Although, he writes music. I write about my life and the people in it" Using your speech to distract him and to calm your nerves, you finally brought yourself to undo his jeans, stealing a quick growl from Wakatoshi.

"Have you written something about me?" He asked, feeling his head turn feverish with desire, as your fingers dragged the zipper down, releasing his still clothed erection.

"If I had a coin for every single question that comes from your beautiful lips…" Following your words, your eyes locked on his swollen lips, as you bit yours, feeling your heart beat hard against your chest "Lay down, babe"

"[Name], what are you—"

"Relax, if you trust me, close your eyes" Your voice was once more as a soft seductive purr. And as Wakatoshi did as you told, his face blushed, burning aggressively.

"I trust you with everything I've got" Your touch caressing his erection as you pulled down his underwear, enough for his dick to spring free.

"God, you're big" You gasped breathless.

"Ah, [Name], you-you don't have to—" He began, and stopped, gasping, when he felt your lips gently lick and kiss the head.

"But I want this. I want you to enjoy the night" Your breath hit his sensitive skin, as his breath shook nervously.

"I've been enjoying this since the moment I saw you" He admitted, his face blushed and his eyes shut tight as he felt your mouth taking him in, slowly at first "Fuck, [Name]"

You kept going, trying your best to slowly make your way down his length. Your jaw was beginning to feel numb, as you painfully bobbed your head. Motivated by the sweet obscene sounds Wakatoshi let out. Your name echoing every now and then. Looking up, you managed to gaze at Toshi, peeking through your lashes, as the image of his face flushed, consumed by lust, only added to the heat building between your legs.

As you got used to the gagging, and his length, it became easier for you to keep going. Sometimes swallowing to tighten your grip around his dick, and making him grunt louder than ever. His hand played with your hair, as you kept going and going. His heart beating faster by the second as he began feeling his orgasm approaching.

"[Name], stop" He gasped breathless "Come here, darling. I-Im close" He whined, however, you ignored him and sped up your pace "Ple-please, baby" He begged.

He pushed his head back, rocking his hips, making his cock go deeper into your mouth. Hands gripping firmly to the bed sheets. His body shaking in ecstasy, as he felt closer and closer to his release. He came inside your mouth, as his warm cum tickled the back of your mouth as it shot down your throat. You swallowed, savoring his salty bitter release. The sound of his moans tickling your belly.

"Did you like it?" You coughed, your voice raspy.

"Ye-yeah" He gasped "You didn't listen to me, though"

"Oh, I didn't have any intention of doing so" You admitted, smiling satisfied at him.

"I've never had anyone do that to me" He said, finally catching his breath, as the world regained its focus again and he saw your cheeky smile.

"Well" you shrugged "you had a thing for sweet and shy virgin girls, so, it shouldn't come as a surprise"

"You aren't like that," He continued.

"Of course not"

"Come here, it's my turn" His gaze suddenly turned darker, sending shivers down your spine as you did as he said.

He hooked an arm around your waist and swiftly threw you to the mattress as he got up on his knees and took off his jeans along with his underwear before leaning down and doing the same to you.

His fingers lingered on the hem of your panties once he took off your jeans and proceeded to kiss your belly. His lips drawing soft patterns on your skin as his fingers played with the fabric of your panties as you gasped and gasped in anticipation.

He began pulling down your panties, and felt his hit breath close to your sex as you bit your lip, wondering what did he have in mind.

He kissed your folds before one of his fingers began exploring your slit, as his lips and tongue focused on your clit.

"[Name], you're so wet" he purred before kissing your clit once more.

"Yeah, well...that's your fault, pretty boy" you gasped as one of his fingers effortlessly slid inside you, stretching your walls.

He moaned against your skin, upon feeling your warmth contract around his fingers, as a second digit made its way inside.

"Toshi," you cried, running your hands through his hair as he looked up. His now lustful honey eyes looking at you like a predator gazing at its prey "Toshi, that feels so good" you said breathlessly before collapsing your head on the pillow.

God, what were you doing to him? This was so unlike him. He was usually so quiet, so polite, so squared, always playing by the rules with a weird fascination. But now, he was acting on pure instinct. Your smell, your warmth, the sound of your voice, it all was driving him crazy. He was letting his most primitive judgment take over as he mindlessly pleasured you with his tongue and fingers making you reach your orgasm.

"To-Toshi" You whined feeling the buildup of your climax, tightening your grip on his hair and arching your back, shaking uncontrollably as your sight blurred, the loudest of moans escaped your throat as everything began to burn in the most delicious of ways.

Your walls squeezing his fingers, trapping him, as he bit your clit gently, making you moan even louder due to the overstimulation.

He smiled proudly at himself, as you returned from your high. Glad that he'd made you cum so effortlessly, feeling so unbearably turned on by your needy cries. He pulled his fingers out of you, covered in slick and licked them clean before crawling on top of you.

You were quick to wrap your arms around him and pull him close. Desperately kissing his lips in a passionate messy kiss. He could tell you were breathless, and completely undone underneath him, but still needy, clinging to him desperately as you wrap your legs around his hips and bring him closer.

"[Name]" he gasps, feeling your wet folds rubbing and dripping all over his erection accidentally, thinking he might lose control any time and just take you raw. "Do you have—"

"Coffee table" you breathe before he can even finish.

He moves quickly and swiftly off of you, grabbing one of the condoms and opening it hastily.

"Wait, let me do this" you say with a lewd voice, as Wakatoshi gazes at you. Playfully you take the condom off his hands and gently run your fingers through his erection. The idea of taking all of him both excited and terrified you, and tried not to think much about it by slowly unfolding the condom along his length, your fingers lingering teasingly and tickling him as he growled lowly.

"God, [Name], what're you doing to me?" He purred leaning down and kissing you feverishly as once more you wrapped your legs around his waist and he positioned himself. "Can I?"

"Fuck yes. Yes, yes, please" you begged, as he pushed his shaft inside your folds, slowly, gently.

He knew he was a big guy. Big enough to not being able to fully go inside without hurting his girlfriend in turn. So, he expected you to tell him when you'd had enough of his length. However, you didn't. The deeper he went, the more you clawed your nails to his biceps.

"When you want me to stop, just say it"

"No, I want all of you" You whined, making his erection throb inside you

"Doesn't it hurt?" He purred, his eyes looking into yours.

"It does, but it feels so good. Please don't stop, Toshi, keep going" You breathed "Please"

He felt a shiver run down his back as he kept going. Your moans getting louder and your voice going a few notes higher, your face blushed, eyes shut. He was captivated by your look. You'd gone from enchanting and teasing siren to a completely submissive and shy doll. You gasped his name once he fully went inside, enjoying your warmth all along his dick.

He pulled out slowly before thrusting back in at the same speed as before. Once you'd gotten used to his length, you were dripping wet with arousal and opened your eyes to meet his.

"Toshi, faster" you whispered with the neediest of voices, tickling his gut.

"Darling I—"

"Babe, please. I'm gonna be fine" Hearing the sweet sound of your voice dripping with lust made it hard for him to disobey.

And as he sped up, your moans did too. He was beginning to feel a loss of control, as his thrust not only sped up, but became stronger. Your moans, washed with pleasure, soon got mixed with painful wines. Upon hearing the first one, he stopped at once.

"I-I'm sorry...are you—" He whispered.

"Yeah. Keep going. Toshi, it feels so fucking good, I swear. Don't stop babe" You begged as he began moving once more, pounding you, just like before. Stretching you, hitting you in the right places, as your toes curled un pleasure.

"Fuck, [Name]" Wakatoshi purred against your ear bwfore kissing your neck. "No girl has ever taken all of me before"

"Cowards" You sighed, swallowing a moan "You know what that means?"

Wakatoshi brushed his nose against yours and looked into your eyes, drowned in lust, with clear traces of affection melting together.

"What?"

"You're mine, and only mine" You cupped his face in your hands and brought him close to you. Kissing him in a rather sweet kiss, as he kept thrusting in and out.

"That's fine by me" He said between breaths before kissing you once more. As you moaned into his mouth, you swallowed his low grunts, both of your passions burning together.

You broke the kiss, and locked.eyes with him as he pulled out ready to lush his length back in

"And I'm yours, Wakatoshi" You said, before a loud moan escaped your lips as Toshi filled you up, stronger than before. His heart squeezing, as he stole a breathless kiss from your lips.

He whispered your name between kisses as his pace quickened. Your moans getting progressively louder and louder, as sweet nothings escaped his lips. Hypnotizing you, your hearts beating fast and synchronized. Your nails clawing on his skin, as he felt his orgasm build up once more. Giving in to the sound of your moans, and the arching of your back, it didn't take long for him to reach his second release. He came, burying his face in your neck as you gasped for air.

"Toshi, please. Don't stop. I'm close"

"[Name]" He panted as he sped up, stronger and faster than before. Your arms around his shoulders squeezed, as your nails dug into his skin. His name escaping your lips in tasty moans as you felt your core burn. Just like before, your walls tightened. He groaned loudly, feeling how your core closed in around his erection, squeezing him deliciously as you rode your orgasm. He kissed your neck, as your back and neck arched.

Your grip softened, as your body relaxed, breathing deeply, trying to catch your breath. Wakatoshi kissed you, tenderly, as you regained focus of the world. Still inside you, you tightened your legs around his hips to keep him from slipping out. You brushed his hair, melting your lips into his in a sweet gentle kiss.

He wished to remain like this forever. Just the both of you, caught in an euphoric ecstasy. Vulnerable, and exposed, clinging to that moment with sleepy kisses and sweet nothings. He finally slipped out and lied in bed next to you. Wrapping his arms around you, still wanting to feel every inch of your body against his. Agitated breaths filling the silence in the room, as fingers entwined mindlessly. Legs tangled.

Wakatoshi had never felt this much bliss in this entire life. He could stay like this forever, holding you close to him. You stared into each other's eyes, understanding how each other felt, without the need for words. He wondered if this was what people called intimacy. He felt so incredibly vulnerable, however, he knew everything was going to be okay. He felt safe and comfortable with you, and wondered if you felt as vulnerable as him.

"[Name]" wakatoshi broke the silence "didn't that...hurt?"

"It did, but it felt so good. Toshi, you have no idea how much I enjoyed that" You sighed, snuggling your face against his neck

"Oh, god. Good. I was worried I'd hurt you" He sighed.

"Did you?"

"Huh?" He looked at you clueless, suddenly forgetting what you'd just said.

"Enjoy it?" You asked.

"I've never had sex like that before" Ghb e murmured looking away from your eyes.

"Define that" you giggled.

"It was great. It was different to what I'm used to. I really enjoyed it"

"What are you used to?" Wakatoshi remained pensative for several seconds, recalling the memories of the times he'd sex with his exes.

"Shy, silent, a bit...robotic"

"Damn, Toshi. Did you actually like any of the girls you fucked?" You snapped as Wakatoshi looked at you in the eye.

"You" he said bluntly, as you felt yourself blush wildly in a single second.

"Other than me, silly. But thank you"

"I-I...I think so. I dont know. I've never liked a girl as much as I like you, that much is true as well"

"Terrible decision, really…" You chuckled.

"Are you kidding me? You're perfect, despite what everyone says about you. You're perfect for me, [Name]. I like you, and trust you, and really enjoy our company...” He muttered “I don’t feel awkward after having sex with you, and I enjoyed it at all. For once I had fun and didn't feel like a chore nor..."

"I feel bad for your exes, Toshi. But at the same time not. If they had a taste of this, I'm pretty sure they would've refused to let you go so easily. So, I'm glad I don't have to share this experience with anyone of them"

"Does that mean you're not gonna let me go so easily?"

"I'm not letting you go, period. Unless you want to, of course. But if I wasn't going to let you go, as a friend. After this...I-I...you get my point"

He didn't. But he could tell you were feeling uncomfortable by how easily you became speechless. He wondered what had gone through your mind to make you go silent and shy in a second.

"You're far too precious to me to forget about you. You've always been."

"God, so that's why all of your little fans and your exes hated me. You always found the time to hang out with me even when you spent the entire day training prepping for Nationals, didn't you?"

"Before tonight, I already knew I didn't want to lose you. After tonight, I'm sure I don’t want to kiss, nor hold any other girl who isn’t you"

"Toshi, call me crazy, but that's not news, but…"

"Yeah?"

"I've liked you for almost two years now, and...That’s a lot, you know? I’ve never had feelings for someone for this long...and—" You stopped, feeling how your heart suddenly went crazy.

"What is it?"

"God, if this were happening to me, I'd definitely think if this was a big red flag, how much lower can I sink?" You giggled nervously before looking back into Wakatoshi's eyes "I think I'm in love with you"

"I think…" Wakatoshi muttered as his brain quickly jumped and did the math, still processing what you'd told him "Tendo lost the bet"

"What?" You kept laughing awkwardly, trying to keep your panic under control.

"When I told Tendo I had feelings for you, he got all excited, saying he had won the bet…" Wakatoshi recalled. "But that was a year and a half ago. But I'm starting to think it was actually Semi who won the bet"

"Oh...okay…" You blinked confused. "Are you gonna tell them?"

"Does it matter? [Name], I honestly do not care who's the rightful winner of that bet"

Wkatoshi lifted your chin with his finger and leaned closer, sealing his lips with yours in a tender kiss.A kiss you wished had lasted a little longer. Such a sweet, delicate kiss, long enough to leave you breathless instantly, and short enough to leave you wanting more. The sort of kiss you wished to get every day from him.

"I love you too, [Name]” He purred, his nose brushing against yours, as you savoured not only the aftertaste of his kiss, but savouring his words.

You leaned closer, stealing a second hiss from him, as he, very obediently kissed you back. Wrapping your arms around him, you brought him closer, as he groaned softly into your lips, adjusting himself. Slowly, crawling on top of you once more, you wrapped our legs around his waist, and your arms around his back, desiring to feel his weight on top of you once more. He breathed your name between kisses, as his fingers mindlessly played with your hair, as both your lips kept dancing together, slowly, tenderly, passionately.

The fear and the anxiety had been long gone. Now, the consuming and intrusive thoughts of how wrong it was to be kissing your best friend were now replaced by a comfortable sense of security, as your love confessions played in each other’s head. The heat kept increasing and increasing, just like the sound of our moans and grunts. It was much less awkward this second round, maybe was the lack of clothes, or maybe the fact that you already knew how the other felt. This newfound intimacy was everything Wakatoshi needed. He loved the feeling of reciprocity, as the same desperation to feel you closer, not only irradiated from him, but also from you. The physical closeness as well as the emotional closeness pulled you together like a tender hug.

You wasted the night away learning more about each other on a physical level. What each other liked, what you didn't. Holding each other close, tasting each other, over and over again until the both of you were completely satisfied and exhausted. You soon fell asleep in each other's arms.

Wakatoshi knew he didn't want to spend his nights with any other girl who wasn't you. He didn't want to kiss any other girl who wasn't you. And god, he felt like the luckiest man alive. By the end of the night, he was yours. and you were his.

#i am pretty pleased with this honestly #ven though its so awfully long ajdjkfksffs #anyways #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #ushijima wakatoshi #wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi imagine #wakatoshi ushijima #ushiwaka #ushijima x reader #haikyuu ushijima

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kadeu · 4 years

Photo

Accepted — Alis Nazarian

♣️ Alis Nazarian aka. Vesper looks like Angela Sarafyan (actor) ♣️ She was born August 5th, 1869; making her 150 years old but she appears 37 ♣️ This Shifter is Pansexual and an Ace of Clubs ♣️ She is the Owner of Boxing Clubs

Biography

They regarded her with pity.

For valid reasons, of course. To be born to low ranking parents—a 1 of Clubs and 2 of Clubs respectively—was one thing, but for said individuals to remain distant, burdened by their own string of issues that they couldn’t care for each other, for her, was another matter entirely.

Alis Nazarian served as the perfect example of how one’s pedigree mattered little in the scheme of things. Her father’s former status as a formidable Ace and mother’s position as ruthless Queen were a distant memory; something akin to a myth, a tale drummed up by intoxicated patrons over one too many. A once fearsome reputation ultimately lay in ruins, courtesy of destructive habits, and she was the unfortunate victim of their poor choices.

But it wasn’t in her nature to dwell over the details.

There was no point in criticising her father’s penchant for Chrono and mother’s fascination with the gambling scene. No point in wondering just who would guide her along the shifter path, some day, when they were busy with other pressing… matters.

As easy as it might have been to pin her suffering on the pair, she couldn’t find it in herself to indulge in such. The only viable choice was to proceed and push through, regardless of the difficulties associated with it. Sure, the hardships were aplenty, and it would be a blatant lie to say that the frustration hadn’t driven her up the wall on multiple occasions— but it could’ve been worse.

And so, she did what she did best in situations such as these when the odds were heavily stacked against her: survive.

In the hands of distant relatives, family friends, or anyone kind enough to take her in on a temporary basis, she was raised among a bevy of both familiar and unfamiliar faces. Armed with a razor sharp wit and keen eye, Alis seamlessly adapted to each environment she was presented with. Not even subpar sleeping arrangements or measly meals could bring her to tears—in public, at least. Humour quickly became a source of comfort. It was far easier to joke than worry over the fact that she’d eventually have to figure her own way out. Alone, in a society that had it out for her.

What exactly was a girl meant to do in this instance? Sit back and wait for the end? Allow the other Clubs to trample right over her when she was down and almost out like this? Well.

Ask her and Alis would swear that she hadn’t meant to steal that day. Promise. The thought of dipping her hands into the pockets of a highranker was absurd. No one had to tell her twice. Consequences were deadly for someone lowly like her, except the possibility of hitting gold—perhaps in the literal sense—gave her the incentive to give it a go. Just for today, anyway. Better to be taken down on a high than wither away like many had assumed she would.

What she hadn’t expected, however, was to be caught red handed. More specifically, to come face to face with a person who apparently knew her father far better than she did. Even knew her, for that matter.

Huh. It was a goddamn joke that not even Alis could laugh at.

Boris Kuznetsov, he’d introduced himself as over a meal later on. A childhood friend of her father’s, a training partner, a close confidante; the poor soul who’d personally witnessed his demise and didn’t want the same for her. Or so he claimed. Alis barely took note when the abundance of food before her was considered significantly more interesting than whatever he chose to ramble on about at the very moment.

It was a sight that prompted the man to ultimately take her under his wing. Either to keep her off the streets and give her the chance to live, or to restore honour to her family name once more. Maybe both.

In a matter of days, Alis finally understood the very definition of stability: a roof over her head, never-ending meals, proper clothing. There was no risk of having everything snatched from right under her here; a far cry from what she was usually accustomed to. It was the kind of life she’d long been deprived of, yet a life that could be hers, so long as she was willing to, quite literally, fight for it. And was she? Was a reckless street kid capable of making it to the top? Boris thought so.

Whereas he was stern and implemented a strict training regimen as preparation—but also to keep in her line— she was fond of bending said rules when possible. Whereas he emphasized the importance of upholding tradition, she opted to break it and put on her own unique spin on it, instead. And when he’d requested that she get her shit together and actually take him seriously, Alis would pretend to deviate for the sole purpose of hearing him grumble angrily in his mother tongue—only to turn around and prove that she’d excelled in everything he’d taught her so far.

Let it be known she’d developed a soft spot for the old man and would vow to work hard in his name, shit talking and all.

To put it simply, the first few fights didn’t go to plan. Battered, bruised, and brandishing a new scar; her friends considered it an absolute miracle she was still alive by the end, let alone capable of cracking a joke about having her ass handed to her. Trust Alis to see the lighter side when others (see: Boris, always Boris) did not. Although the outcome was widely viewed as a disappointment, especially when her parents were capable of so much more, there was no denying that she was one to be watched.

Unconventional in her use of weaponry, and unpredictable in her movements; it was startlingly clear that the young woman had all the makings of someone great. Pair that off with a never say die attitude, and her potential would become a popular topic of conversation among the masses. It was only a matter of time until Boris honed her in and polished her up until she emerged gleaming, glittering. Unstoppable.

Whoever said her ascension through the ranks was an easy one had no idea. Not one. The years were marred by unexpected losses, in addition to accumulating a steady amount of injuries; some of which would leave Alis stranded on the sidelines. No one made mention of the mental toll involved in going from Jack to Queen to King, nor the fear in having the hard work fall apart in its final stages. How a poorly timed move could unravel everything achieved so far, leaving no other choice but to start over, with no guarantee of returning to where they’d left off.

The road to Ace hasn’t been pretty. Alis wouldn’t hesitate to vouch for that, pointing to her numerous battle scars as proof of how much she’s had to endure. Plenty has been lost, although just as many has been gained. She isn’t the type to brag of her achievements and prefers to remain humble, biting her tongue against the compliments regarding her fancy ranking.

But she’s done it. Pulled off the impossible, and by God, no one is going to take it away from her that easy.

Not without a damn good fight, at least.

Personality

At first glance, it would be easy to assume Alis Nazarian was anything but the Ace. Often caught in the midst of some farfetched tale that may or may not be true, she’s often regarded as unthreatening by many at The Boxing Club. A complete jackass, in fact, by those closest to her. Her laidback nature, along with her fondness for a good time, tends to distract others from straying too far, and instead encourages them to stay close, just to see what kind of entertainment she’d drag them along to.

The faction and ranking system holds little to no importance to her. Having risen from the bottom herself, Alis doesn’t deem it fair to judge people according to their ranking, and chooses to rely on interactions when determining whether someone is worthy of her attention. She finds grudges utterly draining, petty conflict even more-so; thus, she won’t outwardly express her displeasure towards certain individuals when it’s perceived to be a waste of time and energy.

Saying that, Alis is capable of switching to deadly in an instant. Anyone who’s seen the woman in action is well aware how ruthless she can be when the situation calls for it. Her tolerance for mayhem is high, except if a person has chosen to cross her, time and time again, for the sake of riling her up, she will see to it that they never do so again via a personally delivered and violent message. All because she’s relaxed, doesn’t mean she should be messed with.

Congratulations Bee your app has been accepted and your personalized plot drop will be sent to you soon

Please follow and welcome @alisnaz to Kadeu!

#follow;#accepted;

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skellies-n-their-human · 4 years

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more bio shit (i’ll edit this to look more presentable when i have access to a computer, tumblr mobile really sucks :< i apologize if it’s hard to read for the time being)

Sans owns the house that everyone lives in. He’s pretty laidback and lenient about lots of things, so it takes a lot to get him angry. But when he does, he gets pretty fuckin’ scary. In fact, everyone is or has been scared by Sans at one point (which is kinda funny, considering Sans’ biggest fetish is fear). Thankfully he’s only gotten super angry twice. No one likes to talk about it.

Sans is also a space geek — more than a few times has he been caught reading a thick astronomy book “hidden” inside of a little paperback full of jokes and wordplay. If you have a question about the universe, he’ll most likely have an answer at the ready. Suffers from hypersomnia, so he sleeps a lot.

Papyrus is a pure SOUL, and everyone can’t help but love him. He’s super sweet and loves to help everyone out! Unsurprisingly, he’s very good with kids. He’s often given the nick Creampuff and he’s come to not only accept it at this point, but to embrace it. YES he is a creampuff, soft and fluffy with yummy filling inside! What of it?! He’s so full of energy, and would absolutely beat you in a game of DDR.

He is nonbinary, going primarily by he/him pronouns, but any pronouns are perfectly okay with him! Papyrus is also gray-ace, preferring to keep away from any sexual stuff, but is not outright repulsed by it.

At first glance, Red would seem to be your stereotypical “macho man.” He’s big and burly, drinks and smokes, he’s loud and rude — basically a skeletal frat boy. But what most people don’t see from him is his softer side; he’s such a romantic, he will go out of his way to plan the perfect date night for he and his partner/s. He loves to spoil, and will do exactly that. He’ll give little inexpensive gifts every now and then, like your favorite candy he picked up while buying some cigarettes, or maybe a pair of shoes you’ve been looking at during your online window-shopping. He’s better at showing his love through actions than through words, and he tends to stutter when he shows any sort of strong emotion, like anger or nervousness. Despite this, he’s not one to sugarcoat his opinions. Has an affinity for cars and casually watch NASCAR (he’s not a huge fan or anything).

Boss... oof. Boss is Red’s younger brother. He and Red grew up in a very hostile environment. I won’t go into it much on this post, but Red took raised him from a babybones, but once Boss reached adolescence Red fell into a deep, heavy depression and the roles were reversed. He’s strict and a little mean at times, but he’s only doing what he was taught in order to protect himself and others. That being said, his displays of affection start out very rare, as showing affection was considered a sign of weakness. Eventually he’ll open up to hugs, kisses, cuddles, and even *gasp* PDA, but it will take some time before he gets to that point. He has a high LV, the highest of all the skeletons, and it affects him greatly. When Boss feels any sort of strong negative emotion, he’s at risk of his LV taking over his mind and body, putting not only himself but those around him in danger. There’s a special protocol in place to calm him down whenever this occurs.

On a brighter note, he loves to cook and is very good at it. He keeps a small booklet of everyones favorite recipes! His dream is to open a five-star restaurant.

Stretch loves sweets, adores companionship, and taking everything slow and steady. He’s never in a rush, the chill stoner he is. Most of the time you can find him lounging on a sofa or armchair playing cheap games on his phone. He’s the kind of guy who would spend hours browsing a Spencer’s, staying towards the back and giggling at the silly sex toys. Stretch is extremely interested in the concept of body piercing, and though he’d never get any piercings himself, he’d love to become a professional body piercer one day.

He lives off of touch, both giving and receiving; hugs whenever he’s greeting someone, a bit of hand holding while walking together, little head pats or shoulder touching when he’s standing next to you. His primary love language is touch, and it becomes apparent very quickly. He also had an oral fixation, and will usually be seen with a cigarette, a joint, or a lollipop between his teeth.

Blue, it almost seems, is going through a permanent sugar rush. In fact, he’s not really allowed to indulge in sweets because of how even *more* hyperactive they make him. That’s okay though, he’s more into salty and savory foods. He has a habit of working himself to exhaustion, sometimes even having to be nursed back to health by Stretch or Papyrus.

Blue’s a little -shit- /troublemaker/, using those big, bright eyes of his to play innocent, easily deceiving anyone and everyone (unless you’re used to his tactics, then he just gets frustrated). He’s a social butterfly and absolutely hates being alone for long periods of time. He doesn’t do well under pressure and as a result, isn’t good at lying or keeping secrets. He loves sports, but most of the time he’ll just go for a quick run with a buddy.

Slim is a gentle giant, easily towering over all of the other skeletons yet wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s selectively mute, speaking only once in a blue moon. In fact, if it wasn’t for his extreme height, one would almost forget he existed. He’s been through a lot back home, developing severe general anxiety disorder and perhaps showing signs of C-PTSD? No one but Razz can say for sure, and Razz isn’t going to tell anyone anytime soon. Slim’s jacket is his security blanket, and he rarely takes his hood off, even home. The only times his entire skull is seen is straight out of the shower, or in the morning after he stumbles out of bed. Even during heatwaves, he has to be coaxed into taking it off.

Despite being so withdrawn, Slim craves companionship and tries to join in on group activities to the best of his ability. Like Stretch, he’s very touch-hungry and will help himself to cuddles. He’s pretty primal and dog-like, and uses petplay as a coping tool. He kiiinda has a problem with drooling, apparently it’s happened ever since his fangs got -pulled- knocked out. Even his new gold replacements don’t seem to help any. He doesn’t let it bother him, he just wipes his mouth on his sleeve and moves on. Most skeleton monsters have the ability to purr, and his is the loudest.

Whereas Slim is the tallest, his brother is the shortest of the group. Razz often wears heels to compensate for this, so most of the time he appears just about the same height as Blue (or taller, depending on the pair of shoes he’s wearing), even if he’s three or four inches shorter. He doesn’t let his lack of height get in the way, as he still has the the courage to boss everyone around. He’s very hard to please and can even be pretty argumentative about the littlest things. Despite this, he tries not to push people past their limits and he looks out for those closest to him, even if he has questionable ways of showing his love.

Razz keeps his interests to himself most of the time, so not too much is known about him when compared to the others. What we /do/ know is that he’s interested in fashion, sometimes sketching out a few designs even if he’ll never have the ability to create them — at least, not yet. Maybe someday he’ll pick up tailoring and fashion design as a full-time hobby. The closest he’s ever come to that was designing and creating the collar Slim constantly wears around his neck.

#edit later #info #sans #papyrus #red #boss #stretch #blue #slim #razz

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hotoffthepressfics · 5 years

Text

Broke But Not Broken: Chapter 11

MASTERLIST

Part XI

Previous | Next

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 2,764

Summary: The reader deals with the aftermath of Bucky’s incident. Will the strain be too much for their budding relationship?

Warnings: Angst, slight violence

Inspiration/Chapter Soundtrack:

“1000 Times” - Sara Bareilles

“Tell Me How” - Paramore

“River Flows In You” - Yiruma (Bucky’s Song)

A/N: This update isn’t too exciting, and is probably a little depressing. But it has to be done! The next update will be better, I promise. Thank you guys for sticking with the story! I often fear it’s getting redundant and boring, so I hope that isn’t the case. Please let me know what you think?

Y/F/N - Your fake name

It’d been nearly twenty-four hours since you’d found Bucky on the bathroom floor of his apartment and called the ambulance. Blood alcohol poisoning. His blood alcohol content was 0.274%. Bucky had almost killed himself trying to drink away his problems.

Steve had arrived about ten minutes after you did. At the time you weren’t really sure about Bucky’s condition. All you two could do was wait. An hour and twenty-seven stitches to his temple later, you could see Bucky. He rested comfortably in the hospital bed. Now you and Steve waited and hoped Bucky would wake up.

You yawn, stretching out your arms and legs from your cramped perch from a chair. A firm hand rests on your shoulder causing you to flinch. You look up into Steve’s face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Why don’t you go walk around and get something to eat? I’ll take it from here.” He suggests.

You worry your lip, glancing at Bucky’s prone form. Indecision plagues you. You didn’t want to be gone if he awoke. As if to weigh in on the decision your stomach gurgles loudly. You sigh.

“Okay. I’ll be back soon.” You say, rising to your feet.

Down in the cafeteria you purchase a chicken salad sandwich and water, taking a seat at a table near a large window. You half-heartedly unwrap the sandwich, pushing it aside after a moment. While your body insisted you needed to eat, you just didn’t feel like it. Your spirits were pretty low.

All the time you’d known Bucky he’d been happy and seemingly carefree. You’d taken solace in his laidback manner, finding it easy to trust and relax near him. Seeing Bucky now after his episode and subsequent binge drinking left you on shaky ground. You didn’t blame him for what happened, but perhaps you’d opened yourself up to him too quickly.

Bucky’s cell phone rings. You still had it from when you found him. You dig it out of your pocket, picking at the crust of your sandwich.

“Hello?”

“Hey Sug, how’s our boy doing?” CiCi’s voice came on the line. Hearing her voice caused the lump to form in your throat again.

“Uhh… he’s stable… The drinking did a number on him, and he hit his head so hard he’s a bit concussed, but the doctor said he should recover… Given that he wakes up.” You inform her. She tuts.

“That boy has been on some benders but nothing this bad. He was certainly trying to escape some demons…” she sighs. “I have to head to work now, but you text me when there’s news, alright hon?”

You promise to update her and say goodbye. Slipping the phone back into your pocket you dutifully eat your sandwich.

Your mind wanders as you make your way back up to Bucky’s room. The closer you get you can hear shouting. A commotion has stirred. Right in Bucky’s room. Your heart clenches and you pick up the pace.

“Where are my clothes?! I want to leave now!” You can hear Bucky yelling as you come up to the door.

You jump back as a harried nurse dashes out, muttering about security.

“You can’t leave, Buck! You nearly succeeded in turning your blood to sludge, they have to make sure you’re gonna be okay! Now shut up and lay down!” Steve shouts back. His large frame blocks the doorway, back facing you.

You peer around him into the room. Bucky paces the floor from the bed to the opposite wall like a caged animal.

“How’d I even get here? How’d you know where I’d be? You can’t get after dodging your calls and visits I don’t want to see you?!” Bucky works himself up a bit more; his pacing quickens.

“You need to calm. Down. Y/N called me. She’s been looking for you ever since your…episode with her. She found you passed out and bleeding on your bathroom floor. You’re lucky she did otherwise you’d be dead.” Steve says.

Bucky scoffs, “She should have just minded her damn business. Ironic that the girl who never speaks about her problems would go diving headfirst into mine. I didn’t ask anyone to save me!” He grabs the dry erase marker from the board on the wall and hurls it towards Steve.

Steve ducks, unaware you’re standing right behind him. You flinch just enough for the marker to pelt you in the arm. You yelp, a little too loudly for the object’s size, as it bounces off. Like the flip of a switch memories of Colton come flooding back. Him throwing things, screaming in your face. Hurting you as the wave of his anger rose. Shaken, you glance up at the two men.

Whereas Steve’s face was a mask of shock, Bucky’s was one of horror. He took a step towards you.

“Y/N… shit!” He falls back, the IV pulling against its connection to him.

Hysteria bubbles up. Your panicked mind sounded a warning bell. Run. Get away. You couldn’t do this again. Steve reaches out to you. You pull away. A small whimper escapes your lips.

“I’m sorry…” you moan before turning and sprinting down the hall, both men calling for you.

•••

You felt so stupid for fleeing the way you did the evening before. The flight response had just been so strong. You sweep up more of the broken glass, dumping it into the garbage can you’d brought in from the kitchen. You couldn’t bear going back to the hospital, so you decided to do the next best thing and clean up Bucky’s apartment.

Someone clears their throat while you scrub at the linoleum floor. You start, whirling around. A curvy, red-headed woman stands just outside the bathroom.

“Uh, hi. Who are you? Bucky sent me to get some things for him.” She explains as you continue to stare at her open mouthed.

“Oh! I’m Y/N… his downstairs neighbor I guess…” you say, awkwardly sticking out your hand as you stand.

“Nat.” She offers her hand and a friendly, if a little standoffish, smile. “You don’t need to clean that. That’s what Clint is here for.” She gestures behind her.

You look and see a stocky man with short hair and a grim expression. He purses his lips and gives you a two finger salute when he sees you staring.

“Oh… is Bucky not coming back?” Your heart sinks.

From the way she spoke it sounded like Bucky would be gone indefinitely. Had you really upset him that much? And who was this woman? She was rather pretty, and seemed very self – assured. You fiddle uncomfortably with your pruned hands. Did Bucky and her have a thing?

The woman called ‘Nat’ shrugs. “Not really sure. Steve wants him to stick around the VA center for a while. I can’t believe he actually got him to agree this time.” She turns to look at Clint as if seeing if he agreed with her.

“Okay. Well I’ll just... leave you guys to it.” You mumble unsure of what to do with yourself.

Disheartened you head out the door.

•••

“Oh Sug, he doesn’t hate you. Why would you say that?” CiCi caresses your head as she brushes out the tangles in your hair.

You’d been hiding out in your apartment the last day, slipping further into a reclusive state. You had called off work, determined to shut out the world. You knew you were being silly. You couldn’t stay cooped up forever.

“Because he was so angry to be in the hospital. He said I should just mind my business… I just –“ you stop talking, your throat closing off as you attempt not to cry again.

“That doesn’t sound like he hates you baby. He’s sick and scared. He wasn’t thinking straight. People say things all the time they don’t mean. He just needs time to get his head straight.” She urges, plaiting your hair into a neat braid.

You shake your head slightly, guilt eating at you. “He was right, I shouldn’t have gone digging when I’ve kept my secrets so close to my chest.” You reason, talking more to yourself than to CiCi.

CiCi stops fussing with your hair and walks around to face you. When you refuse to look up at her she crooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head upward. Reluctantly you meet her eyes.

“Now you listen to me. You both have had your reasons for keeping your secrets. Yours were just to preserve yourself from a mad man. Buck’s were going to keep destroying him until there was nothing left. You saved him, Y/N. He will see the good in that someday.”

You doubt her words, images of Bucky’s angry face flashing in your mind. You tried to remind yourself that there had been remorse in his face just before you’d fled, but you couldn’t be sure if it’d been from being caught expressing true feelings or because he’d regretted speaking without thinking. You’d just have to live with not knowing. As it stood you didn’t think Bucky would be coming back. You smile up at her sadly.

“It’s probably for the best anyways.” You say, waving CiCi off as she begins to protest. “I better get ready for work.”

•••

Talking to Maggie had been slightly less terrifying than you thought, though it was still painful.

“Really, I wasn’t upset with you. Naomi has always been a bitch. I was just surprised it was you to put her in her place. I only sent you home because I felt you needed a break. Which...if I’m being honest, you still look like you need? Is everything okay?” Maggie’s eyebrows knit in concern.

You give her a wane smile, “Yes, it’ll be fine. I just want things to go back to normal.” You admit exhaustedly.

So the days went. You’d go to work; you’d come home. Sometimes you’d spend the day helping Tía around her apartment. Occasionally CiCi and Damien could coax you out for lunch. The days turned into weeks with no sign of Bucky. The owners of the building hired a temp to care for its maintenance. It hurt to see a stranger everywhere you’d grown accustomed to seeing Bucky. You tried to push down the pain. You didn’t want to examine why it hurt so much. You kept reminding yourself this was for the best. This was safe. The quicker you could move on the better.

If you allowed yourself to be honest, though, you knew you missed him. The nightmares had returned in full force, keeping you awake most nights. You missed the comfort of his presence. The way his steady breathing had grounded you, promising you’d be safe. You’d taken to sitting in front of the piano, the one Bucky had gifted to you, and thought of him. Alone in the dark, early hours of morning, it was the only time you would let your mind wander to him. You played the pieces he loved, the ones that reminded you so much of his smile. When those songs began to run low you’d absently play, letting your fingers run along the keys, writing their own song. It was a melody they played often enough you didn’t need to write it down.

The evening that marked three weeks since you’d last seen Bucky you go to check on Tía Maria. You knock on her door once before letting yourself in.

“Tía? I’m getting ready to head off to work. Are you set for the night? Do you need anything?” You call out to the little, old, blind woman.

“Oh mija!” she feels her way into the living room. You meet her halfway, bending down so she can kiss and pat your cheek. “How are you? You don’t sound well.” She asks, holding your face in between her hands.

You sigh. It was getting tiresome, being asked so many times if you were alright, but you knew they meant well. “I’m doing just fine Tía. I’m just leaving for work. Do you need anything?”

Tía releases you and claps her hands as though she just remembered something important. “Oh yes! I want to make some cookies tomorrow, but I’m out of flour. Would you mind picking me up some on your way home? If it’s not too much trouble!”

You smile, planting a quick kiss to her cheek. “It’s not a bother, I would be happy to get it for you.”

You bid her a good night and headed off to work.

Your shift starts out pretty normal. Naomi continues to go between sneering at or ignoring you, but she keeps her distance like she’s done since your fight. This you can handle. You mill about the tables and get lost in the monotony. Not surprisingly, the club is quiet. Michael never showed to start his shift. Maggie entreats you to play and you agree. You start off with the normal set, playing jazzy, upbeat pieces.

You aren’t sure why, perhaps it’s your flagging spirits, or the somber cloud that seems to constantly hang over your head these days, but as the last song ends and you begin the next you tap out the first notes to Bucky’s song. You pour yourself into it, bleeding all the anxiety, hurt, and loss you’d felt the last couple weeks. For the first time since the night in the hospital you allow yourself to feel everything you’ve kept bottled in, momentarily forgetting the small, crowded club of bargoers.

As the song ends you jump from the clamoring patrons. You laugh a little at the whooping and whistles as you give your audience a small bow. You glance over to Maggie and your smile falters a bit. Marcus had apparently decided to make an appearance tonight during your song and his eyes were locked right on you. You swallow nervously as you keep playing, very aware of the eyes observing you. As the night draws to a close, you step down from the stage. Marcus and Maggie wait at the bar, the brief smile she gives you doing little to put you at ease.

“Umm... Marcus, I know I’m not supposed to play but - “You try to explain, but he interrupts.

“I know what I said, however... I’ve reconsidered. It seems you have a very special gift, Y/F/N, it wouldn’t do to squander it.” Marcus says, giving you a wink and placing his hand on your shoulder.

If you didn’t like the way Marcus had looked at you on days he wasn’t interested in speaking to you, you really didn’t like the way he looked at you now. You try your best not to shudder but pull yourself out from under the weight of his hand.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, trying to make the step you take back seem casual.

“Work with Maggie on a schedule around the times Michael is supposed to play and we’ll get you back up on that stage. Good work tonight!” Marcus turns and heads out, waving goodbye dismissively as he leaves.

Maggie rolls her eyes. “As if you haven’t played most nights you’ve worked since you started with us!” She laughs and you can’t help but grin. She sobers. “Seriously though, you do have a wonderful gift. That song you played was amazing! I’ve never heard it before!”

You laugh a little, “That’s because it’s never been played to an audience. It’s my own song.”

Maggie continues to fawn over you, making you blush. After you help close up you bid them all goodnight and head to a supermarket that was still open. You’d told Tía you’d get her flour and you weren’t going to disappoint the woman.

Bag of flour acquired you make the journey back to your apartment building. The night air is cold, a forewarning to the snow that will soon fall as the winter months start rolling in. You pull your coat tighter around you. A little worry starts to niggle at the back of your mind. You can’t shake the feeling like you’re still being watched. A tendril of fear coils its way up your spine, but you try to push it away. You sneak a glance behind you but don’t see anyone.

Stop being paranoid. You tell yourself, but the feeling persists. As the building comes into view you breathe a little easier. You pick up your pace, eager to get inside. Just as your about to enter the front entry a firm hand grabs your shoulder.

You scream.

EVERYTHING TAGLIST:

@booktvmoviefangirl @lowkeybuckyb @mrsdaamneron @xxashy999xx @c-ly-g @coal000 @rroguebones @ghostlyrose2 @part-time-patronus @emelielwh @peaceinourtime82 @buckysforeverprincess @geeksareunique @amnahs9695 @v-2bucky @scarlet-skywalkers @lokilvrr @thisismysecrethappyplace @sacre-bluhm @tatertot1097 @until-theend-oftheline @amoonagedaydreamer @marvelouspottering @thatfanficstuff @chuuulip @littlemarvelfics @averyrogers83 @ellaprime68 @shield-agent78 @jewels2876

BUCKY BARNES TAGLIST:

@bloodiedskirtts @igotkatiepowers @misplacedorphan @superwholockwannabe @moonstruckhargrove @ladysergeantbarnes

BBNB TAGLIST:

@imaginecrushes @that-bearshark @jademox @theraputicwritings @marvel-fanfiction @aubri1313 @xcriminalmastermindx @regulusirius @jacquelineisawkward @lostinspace33 @directionerfae @rainbowkisses31 @marie-is-in-the-dark @msgrungie @mrsbarneswillseeyounow @getmedeacon @owhatshername1 @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @mizzzpink @aveatquevale- @sweetlydecaf @absolukeyrh

#bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #modern au #bucky series #bucky angst #bucky fluff #bucky smut #broke but not broken #james bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel series #fanfiction

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chiseler · 5 years

Text

Myrna Loy: Keeping Cool

If an actor is said to be “underplaying,” what does that mean exactly? It might mean not doing the obvious thing and not displaying the obvious emotion. Or it might mean feeling various emotions but holding them back and only sharing a tiny portion of them. This is a risky strategy, because most audiences might just think you can’t “act,” at least not in the expected way. When Myrna Loy made The Rains Came (1939), she was thirty-four years old and an established star. The film is what used to be called a “well-mounted” production, filled with dramatic incident and exotic settings and lots of extras and love crises and natural disasters. The role of Lady Edwina Esketh, a dissolute, promiscuous noblewoman who redeems herself through sacrifice and love, would seem to provide a juicy opportunity for showboating. It’s easy to imagine Bette Davis in the role, her eyes popping with restless desire. Whereas Loy had the kind of eyes that always seemed half-closed even when they weren’t.

Loy’s playing of Lady Esketh is cool, modest, almost non-committal, and this approach can seem alienating at first, but if you focus closely on what she’s doing, her under-the-radar work starts to pay dividends. The film’s producer Darryl Zanuck called her into his office midway through the shooting and complained about her performance, but Loy stuck to her own interpretation. She was known for her dry handling of light comedy, high comedy, even farce, and she refuses to play Lady Esketh full out as temperamental or mercurial, as practically any other actress of her time would have done. Instead, Loy keeps her cards close to her vest and lets her knowing attitude do the rest. Her expressive voice is light and almost fey, but very grounded, with ringing intonations, and this makes it different from a huskier yet more vacillating voice like Jean Arthur’s.

Even when Lady Esketh changes her tune, Loy doesn’t go all Noble. In fact, underneath the self-sacrifice her Lady Esketh seems to be as flip and above-it-all as ever, somehow, and this works well for the film. “I hate scenes,” she tells her lover George Brent, and this would be a laugh line for a Davis or a Joan Crawford, but Loy is an actress who actually does hate “scenes” or drama. She’s basically detached, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have feelings. It’s just that she doesn’t parade them around as other performers do.

This instinct Loy had for underplaying didn’t always work out so well. In Parnell (1937), Loy and Clark Gable do a lot of walking around and talking quietly to each other, and they come off like zombies in period dress. But her moderation in many other films was so unusual and original that Loy fashioned her very own type of screen character. She was almost never a working girl, but more usually a wife, a mistress, a lady with money and time for play, so fetching that she got away with lots of nose wrinkling and eyelash fluttering without ever seeming coy.

As a young girl, Loy had seen Eleonora Duse on the stage, and she had admired the restraint of that fabled actress. “Oh, I could have cried all over the place in many of my films, but it just didn’t feel right,” she said in her charming 1987 memoir, Being and Becoming. “The audience loses respect for the character. It seems that instinctively I’ve done this kind of underplaying a good deal in my work. That brand of acting had impressed me since first seeing Duse. She had an inner light, you see; you’ve got to have it…You can’t be thinking about how many people you’re having for dinner.” According to Loy in her book, nearly all of her leading men and many of the other men she met developed crushes on her, and that’s understandable. She had the damndest nose, turned up at the end and elaborately structured, and that reserved, hard-to-get manner that promised the deepest bliss if you could melt some of her reserve.

Loy was born in Montana, and she began her career early as a dancer in live prologues for silent films. She was an extra in the original Ben-Hur (1925), and for the next nine years she made eighty-odd movies, mostly in bits. As a maid in Ernst Lubitsch’s So This Is Paris (1926), Loy just walks across a room. She’s a lady in waiting to Lucrezia Borgia in Don Juan (1926) and a chorus girl in the first talking movie, The Jazz Singer (1927), and she was continually cast as vamps and tramps, often of Chinese, Latin or all-purpose “foreign” extraction.

In her first full talkie, The Desert Song (1929), Loy plays Azuri: “That name means tiger claws!” she informs us, in a hilariously BEEG! accent that she came up with herself. She’s very sexy in that movie, but she’s also making a kind of joke of sex, and this campy attitude also informs her Yasmini in John Ford’s The Black Watch (1929) and her gypsy temptress Nubi in The Squall (1929). Loy is enjoyably over the top in these roles and in some of her other vamp parts of this time, and she worked so often in this exaggerated fashion that maybe she was just all tired-out by the time she became a star in 1934 with The Thin Man, and so she made a low-key style out of this tiredness.

Loy is a hoot in The Truth About Youth (1930) as a gold-digging singer with a temper, and she was time-stoppingly lovely in her brief role in Ford’s Arrowsmith (1931). She had one promising scene with Robert Young in New Morals for Old (1932), but then the film drops her entirely. Loy steals Rouben Mamoulian’s Love Me Tonight (1932) with just a couple of naughty lines, socking them home in an attention-getting way that’s rather far removed from her later laidback delivery, but she was still being cast as vixens in racist concoctions like The Mask of Fu Manchu (1932), where her Fah Lo See delights in having men whipped, and Thirteen Women (1932), where her hypnotic half-caste takes methodical revenge on a bunch of sorority girls who spurned her. It must have taken much stamina and patience to wait out all these years and all these small and unworthy parts. She had a lead in a modern dress version of Vanity Fair (1932), which was shot in ten days at a poverty row studio, sometimes from 4AM to 4AM. Loy does an intriguingly subdued Becky Sharp, but maybe she was too exhausted to play it any other way.

The speedy director W.S. Van Dyke took her in hand in 1933 at MGM, and her parts began to improve. She thrived with John Barrymore in the sophisticated comedy Topaze (1933), and she fell in with her best partner, William Powell, in Manhattan Melodrama (1934), where she also tussled with Clark Gable. The Thin Man was made by Van Dyke in sixteen days, and it set up a long-running formula for Powell and Loy that proved irresistible. As Nick and Nora Charles, a private detective and his heiress wife, Powell and Loy struck up a bantering attitude with each other that still feels like a fresh and attainable ideal of marriage.

The mystery plots of their six Thin Man films were usually perfunctory, but that didn’t matter because audiences really came to see Nick and Nora verbally jousting and keeping each other entertained. Just listening to them is a pleasure: Powell with his deep, plummy voice and Loy with her bright, high, tinkling one. “They hit that wonderful note because he always did a wee bit too much and she underdid it, creating a grace, a charm, a chemistry,” observed George Cukor.

Nick and Nora are party people, and the running gag in their films is that they always want to get a rest or take a break but they never seem to, and that suits Loy’s Nora just fine. She married Nick for excitement and great sex and teasing that always goes right up to the edge of being dangerous but never topples over into hurt feelings (it did just one time, in After the Thin Man (1936), when Nick drunkenly mentions making a mistake and Nora for a brief moment thinks he means he was mistaken in marrying her because her family is so stuffy). Nora can be slightly dizzy, but she is also flexible and tough. “There’s a girl with hair on her chest!” says a cop in The Thin Man, after Nick and Nora have just gotten out of a scary scrape with a gunman and she comes out blithely crying for more action.

As she watches Nick shooting the ornaments off their Christmas tree in The Thin Man, Loy shoots Powell an only semi-loving “You are beyond belief” look, a very modern kind of juicily sarcastic look that is also in some sense unreadable. Nora’s love for Nick is a private and multi-leveled thing, and Loy will only reveal a small bit of it. They both see the fun or absurdity in practically any situation, even things that would irritate most of us. “We were married three years before he told me he loved me,” Nora says in The Thin Man Goes Home (1944), and she relates this in an admiring way, because they both like to avoid the obvious, or look askance at it.

The seven or so other films Loy made with Powell were often ordinary, but they were always redeemed by their give-and-take, their rapport, his two-drinks-in silliness and her quizzical, nearly deadpan reaction to him. Loy is at her peak in Libeled Lady (1936), playing a quasi-bitch in the first half but then softening beautifully when she falls for Powell. It’s clear that she’s a former dancer because she always moves gracefully, and distinctively: there’s a difference between the louche posture of her call girl in Penthouse (1933) and the ramrod straight posture of her rich playgirl in Libeled Lady, which suffers from unimaginative direction from Jack Conway. Loy too seldom worked with top directors. She’s at her womanly best in Test Pilot (1938) with Gable and Spencer Tracy, and she brought all of her tenderness to the smallish role of the wife in her most famous movie, William Wyler’s The Best Years of Our Lives (1946), but it seems a shame that she never worked at length for Lubitsch, or Preston Sturges, or Howard Hawks.

As an older woman, Loy concentrated on progressive politics as her career wound down. She played one hilariously timed scene where she fussily picks paint colors in Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House (1948), but she had little chemistry with Cary Grant, who needed a more extreme woman to react to. Loy was a mother and feminist heroine in Belles on Their Toes (1952) and she worked in a more histrionic vein in Lonelyhearts (1959) and From the Terrace (1960), proving that she could play this way if she wanted to, but it isn’t much fun seeing her argue with a nasty Robert Ryan or stumble around drunk as Paul Newman’s mother, so far from her usual context.

She worked on stage and bowed out gracefully with Summer Solstice (1981), a short teleplay about an aged married couple where she was still teasing and fun loving with her mate, Henry Fonda. They called Loy the perfect wife, but her own four marriages didn’t work out, and the second one, to rental car heir John Hertz, Jr., was particularly bad. Hertz gave her a black eye once, and surely there is a special place reserved in hell for the man who gave Myrna Loy a black eye. As so often with these stars, real life did not live up to screen life, and she herself did not get enough of the pleasure that she gave to us.

Loy was one of the rare stars who seems to have been much like the person we see on screen: tolerant, sophisticated, nice without being sugary, dignified without being rigid, treating life with amused sang-froid. She was the sexiest and smartest of role models, all the more attractive and suggestive for keeping so many things to herself.

by Dan Callahan

#Dan Callahan #The Chiseler #Myrna Loy #Keeping Cool

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thecorteztwins · 5 years

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🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊!!!!! Scream about them!!

WOW THAT’S A LOT I’ll talk about two, Ashti and AverySo I have a ton of old OCs but I’d rather talk about the new ones I started making this year after like 4-5 years of not making them anymore.

ASHTI YILMAZHer family are Yazidi Kurds living in Germany, grandparents originally are from TurkeyTender, wistful, melancholy, manipulative, explosive. Far more emotional than logical, and quick to let her bleeding heart and overpowering passion take her reins, whether in sympathy or anger. Easy to hurt, tease, and rile. Prone to sulking, pouting, and brooding, but can shout too when pushed far enough. Has strong feelings, but these make it hard for her to take a strong stance on complicated matters, since her emotions get pulled both ways. Always feels a little out of place. Beats herself up over little things. Fancies herself the mom friend but actually needs a mom friend. Moody, immature, unconditionally supportive. Will say awful things she doesn’t mean in anger and prone to emotional blackmail when upset. Fatalistic, often just accepts that powers that be must have a plan, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it. Warm but wary; always friendly to new people externally, but inside she's on the lookout for any sign they dislike her or are making fun of her, which sometimes leads her to read too much into innocent remarks or innocuous expressions. Feels more experienced than people from more privileged lives and groups, but also like they’re smarter and more accomplished. Ashti definitely has very normative ideas about gender. Nothing exceptional, just common generalizations like women are more emotional, little boys like the physical play, men can be total brutes whereas women attack with cattiness, etc. She’s also prone to romantization of bad relationships, like that jealousy means passion, control means protection, and sticking together through all your fights proves how strong your love is instead of calling it quits. This not only means she is likely to get into and stay in toxic relationships herself, but give her friends dangerous advice to do the same when they come to her with romantic troubles Unsurprisingly, she has a tendency toward tortured bad boys and getting her heart trod on. She has a complicated relationship with her culture. On the one hand, she's proud of it and defiant against any forces that try to take away or erase it. She wants to learn more about it. On the other hand, she hates that feels she HAS to learn about it, that as a tiny minority it's on her shoulders to keep carrying this legacy or risk letting it die. And she hates that all she seems to learn is about how much other people hate her, about massacres and genocides and camps and gas, no about joy and triumphs and great works of art like everyone else seems to get to have in their background. That stuff is there too, but sometimes it seems like it's just entirely overshadowed by the ongoing history of persecution, and she doesn't WANT that, she doesn't want to be defined by the SUFFERING of her people rather than their accomplishments. And she wonders, if she has to learn so much of her own culture from books, since so much of it was torn from her family long before her parents were even born and thus they couldn't teach it to her, is it really even hers? Like, really? If she has to learn it in the same way that a non-Kurd would, is she really culturally Kurdish, or just genetically? Where's the line? And can she really count HERSELF as persecuted? Her PEOPLE have suffered terribly, but if she's never been the victim of anything truly bad or overt, does she have the right to speak on that suffering and claim it by extension? One of her biggest flaws is she doesn't know her flaws. She thinks her flaws are being insecure, emotional, and loving too much. And these aren't untrue. But she's missing a whole lot of the less flattering, less endearing aspects of her personality.Dislikes when people think they (or someone else) is a good person just because they are loyal and kind to their friends, family, teammates, etc. Even genocidal dictators usually treat their own well; what really shows who you are is how you treat those who are different from you, those who disagree with you, those that you don’t know, those that you will lose nothing by mistreating?Also dislikes: Shitty apologies, they send her into an instant screaming rage * Line cutters * When people look down at fast food workers, custodians, etc., and clearly have no courtesy or respect for them (ex: carelessly leaving huge messes) * Beautiful sand sculptures because they get destroyed so fast, it actually upsets her that something that took so much talent and care is going to be so transient * Gorillas, they're scary and she's no Fay Wray * Big trucks, they make her nervousLikes: wild honeysuckle, strong tea, sweet coffee, sleepy gray cats, old patchwork quilts with a story, dark storms at sea, bright sunshine after heavy rain, rose and lavender flavored things, mountains (but not climbing them), he sight of old abandoned cottage houses overgrown with grass and vines. She’s always on the side of the common masses against those in power, but it’d be a lie to say she didn’t watch Sofia Coppola’s “Marie Antoinette “ on wistful repeat or secretly fantasize about somehow being the lost Princess Anastasia Romanov. She also loves "Beauty & the Beast" stories like "Labyrinth" and "Phantom of the Opera" about powerful and kinda evil men obsessed with beautiful naive young ingenues. Loves photos of skeletons that are embracing in their final moments, not as in props but real remains of people were found holding each other as they died, such as The Lovers of Valdaro Would love to be a model or a beauty blogger, glamorous jobs with no imagined effort where people would love her and see her as pretty. As it is she has a job as a receptionist at a ritzy spa called Tranquility.She can pop her wrists out of place, and paints/dyes silk scarves as a hobby.There’s a history of mental illness in her mother’s family, it’s never been officially diagnosed, they just say they’re “emotional” and “passionate” but actually it’s probably something more along the lines of bipolar or borderline, and Ashti isn’t affected but her mother was to a degree and her sister to an even greater one and it caused a huge rift in the family that the dynamic has never really recovered from. AVERY RUE UNDERWOODWhite American trans girl, goth/grunge, pretty much constantly dresses in the same uniform of a black slip dress with a black hoodie or flannel, or some variation on this. She has tattoos of the alchemical symbols for sulfur, salt, arsenic, and mercury, chosen for their metaphorical meanings rather than scientific. Salt, mercury, and sulfur are in her back, down the length of her spine. Arsenic is above her groin. Neutral and detached, but not disinterested or apathetic, Avery approaches most everything from a position of laidback philosophical ease. When things are too tough that it gets through even her robotic shell, she disengages externally and seems ever more the automaton, while actually dwelling on the matter for days or more internally. She can recite "Cassilda's Song" by heart, and talk for hours about the racism and insanity of Lovecraft, and how both these things are misunderstood and misconstrued equally by his devotees and detractors alike. Her icon is Mommy Fortuna from The Last Unicorn, who chose her death and kept it close to her, caged and hers til the end when it tore her to pieces--welcomed by her with open arms, still hers, hers forever.Collects antique silver plated hair brushes. She thinks a lot about how everyone has a life and internal thoughts and we just don’t know we can never really know another person. She likes to go to lonely personal blogs and Twitter accounts and the like and just follow. She rarely “likes” and even more rarely comments, she just wants to watch this little window into a random life that doesn’t have an audience to be performing for like the big accounts. Maybe it’s creepy and voyeuristic but she feels such a strange tenderness for these screen names that she never speaks too. They’re human souls, every one of them. And maybe there’s no God to hear them, but she does. Studies existentialist, nihilist, and absurdist philosophy. She learns less towards the middle, more towards the other two. Morbid and macabre she might be, but she's an idealist at her core. Some of her other interests include obscure mental disorders (Cotatd’s delusion, Capgras syndrome) , photos of the decomposition process, and the historical use of plants as both cures and poisons. She feels kinship with carrion-eaters like buzzards and hyenas, society sees them as disgusting and evil but they play an integral part in the ecosystem She believes that existence precedes essence. So she doesn't believe she was born with a female soul or anything like that. She just doesn't believe she was born with a male one either. She ended up with a female one, and she's going to facilitate that further, is what she believes. But she also doesn't think of her transition as becoming her real self, so much as taking away everything that wasn’t “her” so that only her real self is there. Like how Michaelangelo said he didn’t make David from the marble, David was already there, he just took away everything that wasn’t David. These two views contradict each other, but she works with it. She's got room for contradictions.She’s bisexual, but when she’s with women, she feels like a pervert or predator next to a “real” girl. When she’s with men, she feels like they’re the perverts, and she prefers that. She prefers feeling degraded to feeling predatory. Basically sex is going to suck for her one way or another due to her dysphoria and she’d rather it suck in the way that doesn’t make her feel like the bad guy.Her family is best described as "neutral" in terms of acceptance. They're not at all hateful, and barely questioned her decision, but they're not involved closely enough with her to be really called "supportive" at all. Everyone in her clan, including herself, are too wrapped up in their own lives to really care one way or the other about each other's, and she's good with that. She prefers it. She'd rather not be interviewed, even from people trying to be helpful; this is deeply personal to her and she finds it invasive. She is pretty good at “being the bigger person “ and not escalating things in a conflict, if only because she just doesn’t give enough of a shit to. She tolerates getting yelled at, even undeservedly, really well. She’d be brilliant in retail, she can cope with Karens all day long and not snap or get worn down. Apathy is a hell of a shield.She doesn’t hold on to people, this is good and bad. On the one hand, it means she escapes jealousy and co-dependency and needing anybody. On the other hand, some people feel it makes her disloyal or uncaring. But she's an island, and she accepts the transience of life.She doesn’t seek outside validation or feel the need to be seen as right even when she knows she is. This has allowed her to avoid a lot of arguments and stress.She might not fear violence from a philosophical viewpoint, but she sure does in her natural animal instincts. This makes her edgy around certain demographics. Straight men, religious people, right-wingers, those sorts of groups. You could argue that she's unfairly stereotyping them, much as others have unfairly stereotyped her and people like her. Sure, fair enough, but she'd still rather avoid getting her head bashed in as much as she can. It's not that everyone in these groups is a violent bigot, it's just if there's going to be a violent bigot, they're statistically more likely to be in these groups. Like when was the last time you heard of a transgender woman being murdered by a liberal lesbian atheist, right? So yeah, she's stereotyping. But she'd rather be alive and a "reverse bigot" than fair-minded and dead. She's not THAT much of nihilist.Avery’s self esteem is best defined as contrarian, taking pride in herself more based on what she’s not rather than what she is, and playing Devil’s Advocate to her own ego. She’s the first to admit that not being something bad is not the same as being something good, and in fact tends to disdain those who do the same as she does and praise themselves simply for not being fascists or bigots or abusers, but it seems like the best she can successfully argue to herself.She's completely non-judgemental of things a lot of people would find weird or creepy. Like, you write human/dinosaur a/b/o erotica? Cool, she'll edit it if you want. As long as you aren't hurting anyone, go for it LIKES:* Urban legends, occultism, cryptids, preserved oddities, the unknown* Deep seas, the night sky, vast storms, huge caves, eternal forests* The crowded isolation of the city at night* Abandoned buildings* The sigh and feel of old velvet and raw silk* Deep sea creatures and weird starfish and giant squids * Hozier, The Sisters of Mercy, Cocteau Twins, Black Tape For A Blue Girl, lo-fi, dreampop, shoegaze, every Lumineers song that has a girl's name as the title, and obscure local alternative bands that the art college radio stations only play late at night* Djarum Black clove cigarettes* Symbolist paintings (especially "Salome" and "Sisyphus" and "The Sin" by Franz Stuck)* Angela Carter, Caitlin R. Kiernan, T.K. Kingfisher, and Nabokov's lesser-known novels like Pnin and Pale FireDISLIKES* Pettiness* The smell of smoking meat, it makes her nauseous, and she's never been able to stomach a steak* Trimmed lawns and pruned gardens* The hypocritical pretentiousness so commonly found in any “alternative “ scene* So-called "horror movies" that are really just gross-out torture porn* Creepypastas that over-explain or don't know when to end* People who pride themselves on "sticking to their guns no matter what" as that seems to her to just be another way of saying they never listen to other opinions or new information because they're so sure in their own rightness* People who forget that everyone else has as much depth and life as themselves, you’re not the protagonist and these aren’t NPCs in a game* Avery is an Aquarius and even though she doesn’t believe in astrology, she still likes reading about it, and it bugs her that her sign is classed as “positive “ and “masculine"* Misuse of the term "social construct"WEAKNESSES* Gives up easily; her transition is really the only difficult thing she's ever stuck with* Navel gazing, over-thinking, gets lost in her own head* Can't make a hard decision quickly* Insomniac* Loses track of time easily* Messy slob, her apartment is DISGUSTING, don't ever be roomies with this girl* She doesn't own a car, but she can drive. She just can't park. She's terrible at parking. She goes in crooked, she goes over the line, she has to pull out and go in again a million times to get it right. STRENGTHS* Comfort with solitude, doesn't get lonely* Equally at ease with both existentialism and nihilism* A veritable whiz with subway routes and schedules* Doesn't sweat the small stuff* Hopeful at her core

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shoheiakagi · 6 years

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For the "talk about Homra": what's Akagi's daily routine? What does he do in Homra, does he have a job or is he studying? Does he have a girlfriend? What does he think of his King? Share your headcanons! :D

Ty so much for sending me this ask! I really enjoyed answering this question, and it actually made me think a lot more about this character. I’m sorry it took so long to reply, I had a really busy day + my phone was dying when I got your message (although I don’t like responding from my phone cause it causes a lot of grammar issues to the point of questioning my own English lol).

Also, this is mostly based on my opinions/interpretation, which I am aware that may not align with anyone else’s interpretation.

Keeping this under the cut cause it came out wayyyyyy too long. Also, there might be some grammar mistakes that I’m too lazy to search for cause typing this thing tired me out lmaoo, so sorry in advance. But don’t be shy to ask me more questions or to send your own headcanons! I love this shit.

Talk to me about HOMRA

Daily Routine:

Okay so this one is a little hard for me cause I barely go on a daily routine when I’m not going to class or work but even then I barely function well so I barely think about how others go on about their days.

He’s one of the few early risers in HOMRA, even on his days off, due to insomnia.

Which causes him to be super grumpy during the morning and even at work (but it’s a good thing he knows how to pull himself together, otherwise he’d be giving Bandou a run for his money when it comes to getting fired).

He drinks a lot of coffee (there’s a Starpucks right near his job, after all) which is great cause it gives him energy, but it’s also bad cause it gives him too much energy

Like seriously, he’s probably one of those super annoying cheery guys you lowkey wanna smack sometimes but don’t cause self control and cause he’s cute af

He actually doesn’t go to HOMRA every single day like the other members. Some days he’s too tired from work, other days he just wants to chill with his other friends.

But he’s always the first one there whenever something urgent comes up.

He tries to go to the gym at least three times a week, to make sure he stays fit.

In general though, he enjoys working out and staying active.

He honestly hates staying in his apartment for a long time though. Not only does he feel lonely, but lately he’s been thinking too much (”We’re all doomed”- Bandou). Memories of Totsuka & Mikoto, how HOMRA disbanded once, the possibilities of HOMRA not being in his future, etc.

He’s not exactly sure if he wants to enroll in university, cause fuck school, but he also can’t rely on working part time at a local diner for the rest of his life

Which leads him to enroll in an online class for coding since he’s one of the few people who prefers numbers over literature

Whenever he has the time, he loves adventuring out in Shizume city, checking out new places (but lets be real, this boys been everywhere) and making new friends.

Loves to sit on roof tops; it makes him feel like he’s at top of the world. It’s the little things that makes life worth living.

HOMRA:

He’s one of the moodmakers of HOMRA (mostly amongst the abc boys + yata/kamamoto. He’s way too intimidated by Mikoto).

I headcanon him as being the strongest amongst the abc boys. Akagi may be behind Dewa in terms of perception, but he is physically stronger. So that combined with his own strong perception skills, makes him a really good fighter, much to the envy of Bandou & Chitose.

Despite being a laidback and cheerful guy, he loves fighting. Whenever there is some illegal gang to bust, he’s one of the first ones out the bar, itching to smash some guy’s head with his bat or burning them all.

He’s obviously closer to the other alphabet boys than he is with the core members of homra (trio + anna/yata/kamamoto), which leads them to forming their own group within the clan. Whereas the main members are in the bar most of the time, the alphabet boys are usually out partying or dicking around somewhere.

Job/Studies:

Based on the movie and some official content, it’s safe to say that he works part time at a local diner, which he later gets Bandou to join.

Despite him being grumpy in the morning, he’s always friendly to the customers he’s serving, which makes him super popular, especially amongst the female customers.

At first, he was oblivious to it, but that didn’t last to long cause he is pretty perceptive. Eventually he uses his charms to his advantage, cause the more customers, the more tips.

He’s always caught in the middle of arguments between Bandou and his boss (and sometimes other coworkers) which he often has to beg his boss not to fire Bandou cause yeah the guy’s petty, but he’s really good at frying those potatoes (no lie, San Chan is really passionate about how he cooks his fries).

But sometimes it leads to his own job being on the line since he’s the one who convinced his boss to hire Bandou (goddammit san chan). It’s a good thing he’s popular amongst the ladies.

As i mentioned before, he enrolls in an online coding class, since he’s still on the fence about going to an actual university, but he doesn’t wanna spend his life flipping burgers.

I actually got the coding idea from another blog, but it really makes sense since he was good with hacking in s1.

Back in school, he was an average student. He did the bare requirements, always studied last minute, and would zone out in class. But he’s always found himself doing better in math. To him, math was simple. You just gotta work through the problem to find the correct answer, which is kinda how life works. He likes that there is only answer to a question, not multiple interpretations. This pretty much reflects on Shouhei himself. Despite being an optimistic guy, he tends to the see the world in shades of black & white.

Relationship (*slightly nsfw):

Honestly, I can see him in a relationship, but it’s usually set during the MOR timeline (before Totsuka’s death), months after the events of ROK, or in a completely alternative universe where no one dies. I can only imagine how his s/o would feel when they find out about him & the rest of HOMRA terrorizing a high school in order to seek vengeance.

He’s not a womanizer like Chitose, nor is he desperate for a woman to look at him like Bandou, but he’s had his share of relationships & hookups.

I genuinely think that he’s one of the more experienced members in HOMRA after Kusanagi & Chitose, but he’s more discreet about it. Also, he’s just not the type to flirt with every single woman he sees.

Actually super romantic and takes relationships seriously, but occasionally indulges in random hookups and one night stands.

Has been in a friends with benefits relationship, but it did not end well since he ended up catching unrequited feelings.

Has actually flirted with a couple of his customers who interested him, and gave them his number.

Very into PDA (handholding, kisses, arm around the waist, hugs, etc).

*As mentioned by other blogs, he’s adventurous when it comes to sex, but he has a soft spot for vanilla cause it seems romantic. Loves foreplay, and he usually prefers giving oral than receiving cause he loves to please his s/o (and cause he has an oral fixation).

*Lowkey fantasizes about public sex, but knows how control himself.

He wants a relationship in where they’re best friends, and have a lot of fun together, even if they’re doing boring shit like watching Netflix & eating takeout on a Saturday night (it’s the company that matters).

He’s a super friendly guy, which can sometimes annoy his s/o cause some people misinterpret his kindness as romantic interest.

I could see him being weak for sweet & petite girls with long brown hair (this may seem like self inserting but I can only wish I was petite).

As for guys, I’m not exactly sure on what his exact type would be since I ship him with a few characters who are completely different from each other, physically and mentally (Eric, Chitose, Bandou, etc).

But in general though, he’s weak for anyone who looks good in red, his favorite color.

When he likes someone, he makes sure that he can do whatever it takes to win them over. Can be a bit persistent at times since he’s stubborn af, but stays within his boundaries and backs off if he notices that the other party is uncomfortable or genuinely not interested.

He can be a bit oblivious when it comes to others crushing on him, but it doesn’t take that long for him to figure it out.

He likes to think that he’s not a jealous person, but when he sees a sweet smile growing on his SO/crush’s face cause of someone else, his jaw noticeably clenches.

Super happy if his s/o gets along with his clansmen, but he gets a little tense when they’re near Chitose cause sometimes he can be a bit too flirty, but he trusts his S/O and Chitose.

Loves to tease his S/O, which can sometimes lead him to be a little fuck boyish.

His relationship with his Kings:

1. Mikoto:

Like the others, he respects Mikoto a lot. But unlike the others, he can’t help but feel a bit uneasy whenever Mikoto’s sharp, amber eyes rest on him.

Which can sometimes make him feel upset, like how can I be a HOMRA member if I can’t even look at my King without feeling nervous?

Sometimes though, he thinks back to the night when HOMRA had to save him & Bandou from getting killed due to his reckless ass.

He can’t help but remember how Kusanagi briefly compared Mikoto to him, which didn’t mean anything back then cause he was ready to pass out from all that blood loss.

But it kinda makes him feel better to know that at least there’s one thing he has in common with his king: that they both can easily get corrupted by their power in the name of good. He likes to think of it as a special bond that connects them but he’s pretty sure there are other members who relate to the sentiment.

Somedays, he can’t help but notice how Mikoto is just there. Like yeah, he is a very powerful presence, but it doesn’t really seem like he’s there with them. He just doesn’t seem to care about what goes on, which doesn’t really fit the image of a king at all, at least from what he knows. Shit, if he was a King, God knows the havoc he would create.

Sometimes he wants to talk to his King and get to know him better, maybe even cheer him up. But he immediately rejects the idea and goes back to his own little group with the other alphabet boys.

He is just a clansmen, after all.

2. Anna:

Despite initially thinking that she was a weird brat, he genuinely came to love and care for her as the little sister he never had.

He takes her out for shopping w/e Kusanagi & Totsuka are unavailable.

Loves to bring her toys & candies whenever he can.

They both share a mutual appreciation for the color red, a bit more than the other members.

When Anna first became King, he wasn’t really sure on how to feel.

Like great, HOMRA is back together, but can she really be our King?

He, along with a few others, genuinely believes that they should be protecting Anna, not the other way around.

Especially with her tragic past, she needs to protected. Being a King will only cause more danger.

Also, despite all his denials, his ego is a little hurt that the leader of a street gang is a 12 year old girl.

But him & the rest of HOMRA eventually come to understand that Anna is capable of taking care of herself, she is their King for a reason.

#akagi shouhei #akagi shohei #mine #text #ask #anon #but really thank you for sending me this ask #i love shouhei so much so im glad i was able to expand on some stuff #fun fact: this is exactly 1881 word lolllll #i wish i could write this fast for essays

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atopearth · 6 years

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Shall We Date? Ninja Shadow Part 7 - Kagura Route

Can see why everyone is surprised that Kagura will be watching over the heroine since he changes into a completely different person when he’s fighting. Most of the time, Kagura is very nice though. Let’s see how he came to be like this… Aww Kagura caught her when she fell off her ladder or whatever, I love how instead of the usual cliche where they would notice how close they are and immediately get off each other, Kagura instead tells her that’s it’s okay and she can take her time (getting off him) just in case she’s still hurt or shocked I guess lol. He’s considerate! Wow though, does Kagura take care of the whole Meiko Salon himself in terms of customer service, bookkeeping, ordering stuff etc?! Does he even sleep..?

It’s difficult for Kagura to warn the heroine about how crazy he gets when he takes off his eye patch, so I really felt that the other guys should have warned her, I mean it’s a sudden change and that Kagura even said that her being backup for Kagura meant having to stop him from going on a rampage once he changes, so I think the heroine should have been prepared about that. Especially since that Kagura nearly killed her. It felt kinda terrible to see Kagura go back to normal and blame himself for having done such a thing to the heroine though… Nice of the heroine to offer Kagura her lap so he can sleep better😊 Hmm so some kind of mission nearly broke Kagura mentally and that’s what brought about his second personality “Homura” who now takes care of all the killing and violent things that the normal Kagura can’t, so really, Homura is there to protect Kagura’s fragile heart that can’t take all that. I’m so glad the heroine scolded him for giving his life away so easily when Suetsugu wanted to kill them for being rude, Kagura needs to learn to treasure himself more! I’m so glad she stopped him before Kagura killed himself because he felt like he deserved to die since he can’t keep Homura at bay anymore and he thinks that he’s done too many bad things to ever be forgiven. I don’t know what Kagura is talking about, but just as the heroine said, she was already so torn over her brother’s death, she definitely doesn’t want to see others she cares about die ever again. Also, she’s right, Homura is just protecting Kagura, he may be a bit crazy and eccentric but that doesn’t mean he is a bad “person”.

It’s difficult to see Kagura and Homura changing between each other haphazardly since it shows how unstable Kagura is, does that mean Kagura destroyed Wakasa’s village or something? Homura is actually kinda amusing though, he’s very laidback but definitely genuinely cares for Kagura. It’s hard for the heroine to refute Homura on how they should be living to atone rather than yearning for death when her brother was killed by Suetsugu and she’ll never forgive Suetsugu for that. As someone who destroyed a whole village, how could Kagura bear the burden of all those lives and how it had tormented Wakasa to this day? How could Wakasa ever forgive him, whatever the reason was? It seems that Wakasa is more okay with it than I thought as long as he gets to know why. I guess that makes it even harder for Kagura to take it.

Not surprised that Homura waving around the dagger trying to hurt the heroine eventually made them realise she’s a woman when they slashed open her kimono, luckily Makoto came in time to protect her, but now Kagura is confined to his room. At least the heroine visits him every day giving him food and a daily update on what’s going on, maybe he’ll calm down a bit more and understand the heroine’s feelings better this way. She would never want to hurt Kagura. So, he was a part of the legion of ninja sent to destroy Wakasa’s village and he was one of the key ninjas… Glad Makoto picked him up when he was dying on the road, but I guess we should be glad for Homura’s existence because at that time Kagura told Makoto and them to kill him, so he was planning to leave him but when Kagura’s different coloured eye had tears and his hand clung to Makoto’s coat, how could he not save Kagura? I just never realised that Kagura went through rehabilitation and mostly worked at the Meiko Salon, he didn’t join the vigilante until just a bit before the heroine joined.

So, Wakasa was the first that went into a frenzy and killed Kagura’s subordinates slowly and cruelly with his drugs. Who wouldn’t if they had to see their village being destroyed? And the reason why Kagura was so injured that he needed Makoto to save him was because the Iga Ninjas ( Kagura’s clan) were fighting over the reward money and killed each other over it. Kagura didn’t want to be a part of it since he doesn’t care about money but they wouldn’t let him leave, and so Kagura ended up being the only survivor. I’m kinda disappointed that the heroine plans to go along with Toru in order to receive medicine from him that will merge Kagura and Homura. It’s not that I don’t understand her concern considering how unstable they are, but I feel like merging them would be cruel to both. They’re independent personalities that care for each other now…

It’s nice that Homura told the heroine of Kagura’s feelings but I guess that only made her resolve more firm to getting the medicine…not that I approve. Well, I’m not surprised that Toru gave the heroine to Willem to sell her as a test subject for medicine, I’m just kinda surprised that the heroine is shocked when they’re obviously not good people.. She could have escaped if they weren’t on a ship :( Luckily she acted so suspiciously in front of Kagura, it would be surprising if they didn’t follow and chase after her lol. Glad Wakasa and them knew to come along too! I’m glad Kagura could finally face Wakasa and sort things out, it’s impossible to forgive it, but considering the burden and guilt Kagura bore all these years and with Makoto asking Wakasa to forgive Kagura as well, things ended up fine.

It’s kinda funny to see Homura tease Kagura since he’s like teasing himself about him liking the heroine, especially when Homura tries to move closer to the heroine but Kagura gets so embarrassed about it hahaha. It felt really heartwarming to see them kiss tbh, just because it felt like they had to go through so many things to get to this point and I guess, the heroine really opened him up and saved him! XD Although it felt pretty anticlimactic in terms of how everything resolved, but I think it kinda shows that what’s important isn’t how it’s resolved or even whether it can be resolved, but instead the fact that you face the problem and try to resolve it. Facing it is the hardest part and it took Kagura many years to do that since he always tried to escape from it with death, with the existence of Homura and by hiding himself. It was especially great to see Kagura truly smile with such happiness!

It was so funny when Suetsugu’s assassination went well and Kagura went to Makoto apologising for the trouble he had caused, and so he said Kagura’s punishment would be increased workload at the Meiko Salon, and lmao that Kagura was grateful for the punishment whereas Homura was shocked that they had to do even more work hahaha. Otherwise though, it was pretty cool to see both Kagura and Homura interchangeably fight with their particular strengths. Hahaha omg when Kagura said he only takes off his eye patch and looks at his prey with both his eyes and the heroine thought he was going to punish her hahaha. It’s so cute how Kagura and Homura are so honest with their feelings now, so honest to the point that it’s too much since he does it in front of all the guys too hahahah.

Hahahah I love how Homura and Kagura are arguing about whose number one to the heroine and flirting with her in front of Makoto’s room😂 It’s nice to see Wakasa and Kagura hope to become friends from now on. Anyway, I quite liked this route, it’s not my favourite but I think it was very interesting to see the overlap with Ninja Assassin and have Wakasa be quite an integral part of the story. I just finished Wakasa’s route recently so I feel like Kagura’s route helped to round things up better with the background to Wakasa’s village. Considering the split personality, it was natural that it would be the main focus of the route but I also feel like there wasn’t enough romantic moments for me to think that they matched together. However, I do like how cute it is that both Kagura and Homura are so attached to the heroine lol.

#ninja shadow

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 6 years

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Snowball Fight

Hello, hello!

Welcome to the 2018 31 Days of Ficmas! List provided by the wonderful @doctorroseprompts. @timepetalscollective for 13xRose and therefore fulfilling multiple bingo slots (including wearing another regeneration’s clothing, though it’s Rose wearing it)

31 Days of Ficmas masterlist

Summary: Rose and the Doctor disagree about 13's level of responsibility when it came to the Death Eye Turtle Army. Deciding to settle it like adults, they split Team TARDIS down the middle - and wage the snowball war for the ages.

AO3

Three weeks onboard the TARDIS had done little to diminish Yaz’s wonder for her new surroundings. While Ryan preferred to spend his free time in the Entertainment Room playing 23rd century video games and Graham took advantage of the library, she opted to wander the halls, learning the layout of the spaceship. Two years of training as a police officer had drilled into her the importance of knowing her whereabouts in relation to where she needed to be.

Of course, her explorations had limited value; every morning a different path led to the galley, and a single path never took her to the same place twice. The TARDIS is alive, Yaz, the Doctor had said, and that was never more evident than in the changing floorplans.

She loved it.

Surprisingly for someone who liked to have control, it didn’t bother her that she was habitually lost. The few times she’d grown worried enough to call for help, within two minutes she’d either walked through a doorway into the console room or the Doctor had appeared, leading her back to where she’d been trying to go, babbling a hundred miles an hour the whole way. That only made her more confident in her investigations.

So far she’d found two pools, four squash courts, a garden, an art gallery, and several disused bedrooms. Today, she was on the hunt for a fitness center or exercise room. The Sheffield Constabulary had certain expectations of its officers, and running with the Doctor proved that endurance was key. She was doing well so far, able to keep up, but without a training regimen she was worried that might change.

Ryan had scoffed, dismissing her concerns, but a few days before she had stumbled across him in a mostly empty room practicing climbing a ladder, padded cushions on the ground in case he fell. She’d quietly backed out, letting him have his privacy, all the while fiercely proud of her friend.

Feminine voices ahead alerted Yaz that she was about to get sidetracked, but she wasn’t too bothered as the hallway spilled into the console room. Leaning against the doorway with her arms folded, she smirked as she watched the Doctor and her wife argue.

Despite heated tones and hands perched on hips, their stance and closeness suggested flirting more than anything, and it never failed to make Yaz smile. Her new friend carried the universe on her shoulders – and as strong as she was, she still needed someone to help lighten the load, and the other woman appeared to do so with ease.

“-which is why I’m absolutely right, and Yaz agrees. Don’t you Yaz?” The Doctor’s raised pitch invited her in, and letting her arms fall to her sides, she stepped further into the room.

“What trouble are you causing now?”

The Doctor’s indignant splutter was drowned out by her wife’s laughter.

“Oh, she’s got your number, love,” Rose sniggered, leaning back against the console. “And it only took three weeks. That might be record. Well done, Yaz.”

“Thanks,” she grinned at the slightly more petite blonde. The couple looked very similar, standing at nearly the same height with matching bottle-blonde hair and mischievous grins. The only way she could tell them apart the first few trips was the Doctor’s tigger-like energy and manner compared to Rose’s steady, laidback attitude, and their outfits – the Doctor only ever seemed to change her shirt whereas Rose was always in a new, cute outfit that made Yaz jealous of her closet and apparent budget.

“You didn’t answer my question, though,” Yaz prompted, raising her eyes at the now-pouting Time Lord.

“I’m not causing trouble,” the alien denied hotly. “I was just saying that the Death Eye Turtle Army was not my fault.”

“Ehhh…” Yaz grimaced, considering, before shrugging one shoulder. “To be fair, it wasn’t not your fault either.”

“Traitor!” the Doctor gasped, before turning a glare on Rose who was bent in half, howling with laughter as she clung to the console for support. “And you, Rose Tyler!”

“What?” she gasped, holding her sides.

“You- you- you impugn my honor!”

“Oh, I’m really glad you didn’t say belittle,” her wife sniggered, before bursting into giggles again.

Yaz’s nose wrinkled, slightly lost. The couple clearly had a rich history, if their frequent incoherent asides were any indication.

“Inside joke,” Rose explained briefly, confirming the theory. “If you ever meet a Sontaran, it’ll make perfect sense. Long story.”

“Well, we all came out of it safe and sound, so no harm no foul,” Yaz offered, giving the Doctor a tentative smile.

“Thank you, Yaz. Nice to see someone appreciates me.”

Rose rolled her eyes, grinning at Yaz as she directed at her wife, “I appreciate you more when you when you get us out of trouble than when you get us into it. And even moreso when we can have a nice day out without any trouble at all.”

“You love it.”

“Yeah, and I love chocolate cake, doesn’t mean I need to experience it every single day.”

Yaz coughed deliberately, trying to derail another bickering session at least long enough to get out of the room; it tended to get a bit too close to the line between flirty and foreplay for her to feel comfortable observing. Never mind that Rose was staring at the Doctor like she was chocolate cake. “Are we going anywhere today?”

“Yes,” the Doctor said decisively, moving towards the controls as if struck with inspiration and starting to throw switches and press buttons in a possibly-meaningful order. “We’re going to settle this disagreement like adults.”

Rose sighed deeply, the knowing exhale of a fondly exasperated spouse. Yaz heard it often when her father started on his conspiracy theories. “Somehow I doubt your idea of what qualifies as ‘adult’ is vastly different from mine.” Turning, she began manipulating the controls in front of her with a familiarity Yaz found fascinating. Nothing was labeled yet she never hesitated in her movements, graceful and efficient. Even the Doctor sometimes struggled with apparently new systems, and if she didn’t know better she’d think Rose was the original operator of the craft. Though the Doctor’s occasional jealous look was usually humorous.

“Rose! Not that kind of adult!”

“I didn’t- that wasn’t- shut up,” Rose groaned, stretching to flick a switch almost out of reach before swatting at her spouse. “I meant something along the lines of just letting it go, being the bigger person. Accepting responsibility.”

“Ah.” The Doctor’s nose crinkled, and she shook her head. “Nope, no thanks, not me.”

“Where are we going?” Yaz cut in, grabbing onto a holdbar as they careened through the Vortex, watching with awe as the couple flew around the console, giving happy laughs at every bit of turbulence.

“There’s this planet called Woman Wept,” the Doctor started, only for Rose to immediately cut in.

“-An’ it’s absolutely gorgeous. Once upon a time it was pretty much all water, only the sun died suddenly and everything flash-froze. ‘S called that because when you look at it from above, it looks like a woman crying. Now it’s all snow and ice.”

“And what does that have to do with settling your disagreement like adults?”

“Snowball fight,” the Doctor said brightly, as though it were perfectly reasonable and obvious.

Yaz just shook her head, capitalizing on her last few moments with the women as she could hear Ryan and Graham stumbling down the hall. “You’re gonna settle it with a snowball fight?” For just a moment, she remembered the last call she’d taken before stumbling across Ryan in the forest – two grown women needing supervision to resolve a parking dispute. These two were far more entertaining.

The boys burst in then, Ryan in front with Graham hot on his heels.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” They moved to their stations, taking hold for dear life just as they hit a nasty bit of turbulence.

“Snowball fight on an alien planet. You up for it?” The Doctor’s indefatigable adventuring spirit made them all grin, and Ryan was the first to agree.

“Hell yeah.”

“Why not?” Graham added, as the ship landed with a final shudder.

“Brilliant!” The Doctor leapt towards the door, throwing them open and revealing a tantalizing glimpse of white.

The companions made to follow, only turning back when Rose cleared her throat.

“It’s freezing out there. There’s hats, gloves, scarves, and coats in this closet,” she said, throwing open a door in the wall to reveal a multitude of wintery items in all shapes sizes and colors, selecting an absurdly long, multi-colored scarf for herself.

“Really? You’ll trip and die on that thing,” Yaz muttered as she pawed through the items to find a matching set.

Rose winked, still winding it around her neck. “Not before the Doctor dies of hearts failure.”

Suitably kitted out, the four humans (though Yaz still wasn’t fully convinced about Rose) stepped out to find a dozen snowmen of various sizes and incredible detail in the snow around the ship. Each had a different face and body type, or as much as a snowman could have, but they must have meant something to Rose because she giggled and went up to the fourth one from the ship and gave it her scarf.

“Wicked,” Ryan breathed, making Yaz look up – and gasp.

“Oh my…”

A sixty-foot frozen wave towered over them, glistening in the moonlight. Rose was right; it was spectacular. Similar shapes rose out of the darkness in the distance, giving the place an eerie but serene feel.

“Does anyone live here?” Graham asked, looking around, his face showing the same marvel as Ryan’s and her own.

“Not anymore. Planet died when the sun did,” the Doctor reported sadly, dropping the snowball she held, her wife wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders.

“So, how are we splitting up the teams?” Ryan stepped closer to the Doctor, staring at the wave overhead in awe.

“Boys against girls?” Rose suggested, making Ryan and Graham frown at her.

“What, the two of us against the three of you? Nah, man, that’s not fair!” Ryan protested, crossing his arms.

“What? No, the two of you with me,” the Doctor said cheerfully, kissing Rose quickly before moving away. “Then Rose and Yaz.”

Graham didn’t seem assuaged, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I should sit out, keep score, that sort of thing. Make it even.”

“What? No!” The Doctor’s face fell as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “We’ve only barely got a chance the three of us.”

“And it’s not just two,” Rose smirked, disappearing through the TARDIS door only to return a moment later with Grace, who was grinning widely. “The TARDIS is a cheater, taking pity on the Doctor and not letting Grace know we’d landed.”

“Oh, you’re going down,” Ryan’s nan gloated, poking her husband in the chest. “You haven’t a prayer, love.”

“That’s not fair,” the Doctor whined, glaring at her wife. “You three’ll be too good.”

“All’s fair in love and war,” Rose retorted, “and this most certainly is war.”

“My dignity’s at stake!”

“What dignity?”

“Children, children,” Grace soothed, laughing, “three on three seems like a fair fight.”

“I heartily disagree-” the Doctor started, only to splutter at a sudden mouthful of snow as Rose shrieked with laughter and took off across the frozen tundra. “Saboteur! Come back here!”

The Doctor began chasing Rose as Grace, unseen by Graham, carefully packed a solid snowball, and with a wink to Yaz, lobbed it at her husband.

“Oi!” he yelped, before scooping up a ball as well and throwing at Yaz.

“Hey!”

And the war was on.

Twenty minutes later it had devolved into each of the married couples chasing their spouses around, fighting bitterly and taking no prisoners. Every so often someone would yelp or scream as snow was shoved unceremoniously down their shirtback, and Yaz and Ryan watched it all with a laugh.

“It’s nice to see them so happy,” Yaz commented, sipping at the hot chocolate the ship had provided. She and Ryan had easily declared a truce after the third snowball in a row she’d nailed him with, and they’d brought out a bench and pile of blankets to watch the ‘adults’ battle for supremacy play.

“Yeah. I think Nan loves this travelin’ more than the rest of us combined.”

“Definitely.” They shared a laugh, though Yaz’s smile slipped at the reminder of how closely they’d come to not having Grace with them. If Rose hadn’t been there to cushion her fall… Sure, both women hobbled away with bruised ribs and aching bodies, but they’d walked away.

“Hey, stop that,” Ryan chided, elbowing her in the side. “She’s fine, ‘s all good. What’s that Rose keeps saying, ‘Don’t borrow trouble’?”

Yaz nodded, forcing the thought from her mind as she nudged him back. “I think the TARDIS gave us a snowball gun – want to take them all down?”

“But the Doctor doesn’t like guns.” He gave her a wide-eyed, innocent look before he started laughing, throwing his head back and letting it ring out. “Hell. Yes. You pack, I’ll shoot.”

It didn’t take long to build a well-stocked cache, deciding that Ryan would aim and Yaz would load – part of the gun seemed to be an old automatic tennis ball launcher; all she had to do was feed the snowballs through as fast as she could, and Ryan would do the rest.

Within five minutes they were forevermore known as the undisputed Snowball Fight Champions.

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #timepetalscollective #31 Days of Ficmas #ficandchips #Doctor Who #13xrose #13th doctor #rose tyler #snowball fight #yasmin khan #ryan sinclair #graham o'brien #grace o'brien #teamtardis

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lost-in-transition · 6 years

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cycles

Ended up worrying some after seeing a person claim gender variance is a trend and social contagion, a generational narrative. This is not how I see things (responses to the world are, but class structure existed before marxism, war before the peace movement, sexism before first- and second-wave feminism, and gender before third-and fourth-wave feminism), but got stuck on the question on whether I would have been the same, transitioning in the same manner, in another era. Somehow the naïve image is that since that would seem even more statistically improbable than who I am now, perhaps I would not have; this together with how definitely there were things I would never have known of or dared if I had not seen others do them.

So who would I have been earlier in history? This is somewhat useful to ask.

In early childhood, my home had little explicit gender separation and this was probably part of why I felt home was such a conceptually safe place compared to the rest of the world. If explicit gender had been enforced on me there (if my parents had not been laidback deconstructed hippies), it's hard to say, but possibly I would have shown childhood gender dysphoria, or greater mental health problems as I claimed to be fine with what I was becoming. My attachment might have been less secure. One cannot really say, but past-eras me equivalents in that regard would perhaps have been even more bullied sissy boys, or later disappeared into mental health statistics. Such people certainly existed, they just didn't become public trans people.

In teenage years, I discovered feminisms that were about the deconstruction of gender roles and they became a great refuge for me, a way to feel I could relate to the world in a way which made more sense. That lifeline eventually became a very leaky boat I had to paddle constantly to keep afloat, but it took long to get there. Similarly I became an androgyne, because that was the only way I could feel comfortable socializing while intimately observed, such as with partners. What if I had not found it, where would I have gone instead? Probably I would have withdrawn fully into fantasy, distractions, antisocial nerdery, withdrawn from the world and focused, melancholically, on specific hobbies and ideas and interests, even more than I now did. Such people certainly have existed - loners, monks, nerds, hermits. I would not know I was trans, I would just live very detached from the world. Less happy and less fulfilled, and less visible, but there. Here perhaps I might have differed from those trans people who need transition to live, or who would go for some version of it no matter what. I am not a trans early adopter, I have some options, but that does not change that not all options are equally good.

In adult years, my defenses gradually became overwhelming to maintain, and also to some extent I now recognize, I felt more clearly saddenedly apathetic over the absurdity of my body, like how it felt like just a thing whenever not femininized. Things felt banal, it was hard to feel for myself as a person like other persons. Those two things I did not connect. Visible trans people outside previous stereotypes - trans woman hackers and scientists, for example - those made me consider that if I were trans, I would be myself, only I would be a woman, and then everything would somehow be OK. If I had not found that, in a previous era, I would not have transitioned, but stayed a nerdy semi-hermit dealing with mental health issues, perhaps escalating such issues that I'd constantly be fighting. Such people also certainly existed in the past.

So where does that take me? It highlights how that for me, indeed I would not perhaps live as trans in another era (whereas many other people still would), instead that aspect of me would manifest in having a sad, isolated and unhappy life. The politics of my day informed and affected what I did about the way my mind works and how it mismatches. There still is the fact of how much more alive this can make me, and how much not alive my states otherwise made me. So I am lucky this is when I get to live.

#history #nature_vs_nurture #gender_memes

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mangon3cta · 8 years

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Nobody Compares

JOHNNY SEO

GENRE: ANGST

WORD COUNT: 4,449

“you’re so pretty when you cry”

It had always been the three of us; me, Ten and Johnny. We were like the golden trio; we’d always be together. If you see one of us, you can bet the other two are nearby. There was never a weekend where we didn’t hang out and I even remember way back in elementary when I’d sleepover at Ten’s house with Johnny. Needless to say, we were inseparable.

I was closer to Ten in a way. He was almost like a little brother (he was a month younger than me but I’d still use that to my advantage). Ten used to be sweet and shy and he used to do everything for me when we were little, so I formed some kind of superiority complex over him, but it brought us closer if that makes any sense. Of course, he doesn’t obey like a puppy anymore, I could still trust and depend on him for anything.

Johnny was a little different. I always felt that he was more Ten’s friend than mine, and that the only reason we could hang out together was because Ten was our mutual friend. I had never met up with Johnny alone whereas I’d done it loads of time with Ten. We had a group chat with the three of us and I’ve talked to Johnny a lot on there but our private chats were nearly empty save a couple small talks.

Then high school happened, after my parents separated and my grandmother passed, I had developed a sort of social phobia. I wasn’t like my old self anymore and everyone knew it. I even went through a stage of minor depression. Enter Johnny; someone who was almost like a savior to me in that first year of high school when I was drowning in my own misery. He helped me throughout it all and that’s when I felt closest to him.

Johnny had gone through a similar situation but he had hidden it so well, neither I nor Ten even knew it until he came out about it one day. That particular day was when I sat in a bathroom stall for almost the entire day, refusing to leave it after my teacher had scolded me for my poor grade. She had done nothing wrong, but I was already on the edge that day.

Johnny and Ten waited outside the girls’ bathroom for a long time until Ten gave up and left to the cafeteria. Johnny asked a girl to tell me that it was only him there on her way in. I felt more comfortable about my depression with Johnny than I did with Ten because Johnny seemed to understand better. I came out after hearing that and Johnny held my hand and took me to the counselor’s office to get a home note and walked me home, buying me a packet of rice crackers on the way. He told me all about his own depression, how he overcame it and wanted to help me out.

I never felt the same way about Johnny again. I used to think he was a carefree, laidback guy who didn’t have a care in the world. But this completely changed my view on him. And that’s when the feelings developed. Because it was only minor, it didn’t take long after that to take control of my social anxiety and I was pretty much back to normal. My sophomore year was so much better than freshman year and I just kept improving after that.

Suddenly, it was our last year in school. My crush on Johnny still remained but, since we were all going to separate universities after this, my crush became much bigger and harder to ignore or hide. The worst part was that, although I had found him really attractive since ninth grade, other girls had started to take more notice of him as a senior.

Johnny was tall, cream colored skin, and long brown hair parted at the side. His voice had become so much deeper and he was suddenly interested in girls. Ten was too but it was mostly me giving him advice, but Johnny did it all on his own and it irritated me how many girls didn’t even know he existed until this year.

“There’s so much to do,” said Ten, resting his head on his arms which were propped up on his knees. We were sitting on the bottom step of the bleachers, watching a couple of boys practice volleyball in the indoor court.

“Yeah, since we’re seniors we have a lot to plan,” Johnny agreed, grabbing his bag and pulling his laptop out. These days Johnny would check his email every five minutes to see if he had received any university emails. “There’s senior prank, prom, graduation. We’ll be busy, busy, busy.”

We never talked about universities; we didn’t even tell each other which universities we were going to. That would make everything all too real and none of us wanted that. We’d keep it normal for as long as we could.

“We have to make this year really great,” I said, glancing at Johnny for a second and then bending over my knees to look at the floor. “All I’m really thinking about is prom.” I saw Johnny and Ten both look up at me from the corner of my eye. I flushed. “What?”

“Nothing,” they both murmured in unison. Johnny went back to his laptop and I blew air out of my cheeks, glancing at him every few seconds. It was so hard for me to keep my eyes off him. Johnny caught my gaze and smiled before turning his attention back to the screen.

“Hey Johnny!”

All three of us raised our heads to see Yujin walking over with a skip in her step. “Hey,” said Johnny, putting away his laptop with that wide smile on his face. “What’s up?”

“Can I just talk to you for a second?” Yujin asked and Johnny nodded. She took his arm and lead him away from me and Ten. He turned to face us for a second and winked. I gave him a small smile and turned away. Yujin was the captain of the volleyball team and also the highest achiever in our grade; and she was so obviously desperate for Johnny it was annoying.

I sighed and rested my head on Ten’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?” he asked me. I shook my head and Ten pushed me up to look at me.

“Its just stress,” I told him, rolling my eyes. “And Yujin…isn’t she sort of annoying?”

“Yeah, she sits beside me in class and I can hear her chewing gum over Mr. Jung’s loud voice.”

I laughed out of my nose. “Johnny doesn’t really like her, right?”

Ten shrugged. “I mean, he might…what’s it to you?” When I didn’t reply, Ten looked at me. “Do you like Johnny? I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while.” I felt my stomach tighten. I could tell Ten anything, I’ve never been uncomfortable. But I didn’t want him to feel awkward because his two best friends were infatuated.

“Yeah, man, what do you mean, we’ve been best friends since forever,” I answered. Ten slightly pushed me.

“You know what I mean. Do you have a crush on him?”

I breathed out and buried my red face in my hands. “I do.” I heard Ten laugh softly beside me. I groaned as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and allowed me to put my head against his chest.

“Its kind of easy to tell,” he said, chuckling. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t cry, maybe he likes you too.”

“I’m not crying, you ass,” I said, pulling myself out of his arms. “I’m not like that. Besides, it’s only a small crush, it’s not like I’m in love with him or anything.” Once I said that, Ten smiled. It wasn’t his usual friendly, cute smile. It was that smirk that he’d wear whenever he was amused with something. I slapped his arm and he stopped smirking, grabbing his arm in mock agony.

“It’s cause he’s tall, isn’t it?” said Ten, gazing across the gym at Johnny. “I’m pretty tall too, taller than you at least. Why don’t you like me?”

I gagged, jokingly. “Ew, I think that would be incest.” Ten chuckled and pushed my shoulder. Johnny was done with his little encounter with Yujin and began walking back with the same smile on his face. Ten nudged my shoulder and I didn’t know if he was teasing me or reassuring me.

“So, Yujin wanted me to be her partner for that chemistry project,” said Johnny, sitting down next to us again.

“I thought you would partner with y/n, tbh,” Ten replied and I closed my eyes, wishing he wasn’t such an idiot. Johnny glanced between the two of us, thinking it was a joke.

“But she’s not in my chemistry class.”

Ten flushed sheepishly. “I know, I know…I was just testing you.” He let out a nervous laugh and I regretted telling Ten about this.

***

During lunch, I spotted Ten sitting at the table we usually sat at and hurried over to him. Johnny wasn’t here yet. “Finally, you took so long,” said Ten as I sat down, digging in my bag for lunch. “I wanted to tell you something before Johnny comes.”

I suddenly looked up, interested but also a bit suspicious. “What is it?”

“Since you like Johnny a lot, you should ask him to meet up with you…like without me.” I stopped in the middle of unwrapping my sandwich.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, why not?”

I sighed. This would be hard to explain to Ten because he was completely oblivious to the weird relationship I shared with Johnny, at least the way I viewed our relationship. “Because, I’ve never hung out with him before without you. I think it would be awkward for me and Johnny.”

“Dude, stop,” said Ten, taking a sip from his juice box. “How in the world would it be awkward? We’ve been friends for more than seven years. I don’t think Johnny feels the same way you do, he always talks about you and-“

“Wait, he talks about me?”

Ten rolled his eyes. “Like a friend, the same way I would talk about you.” I made a face at him, not appreciating his sass. “Besides, how else are you going to express your feelings towards him?”

“Why do you want that so bad?” I questioned.

“Well…you always help me with girls,” Ten said slowly and I sighed. “I wanted to help you too.” I smiled, intensely feeling that kinship I always felt for him.

“Hey guys,” said Johnny, joining us. He sat down and put his bag on the table. “Y/n, listen,” Johnny put his hand on mine to get my attention and Ten and I instantly made eye contact for a second. “Remember when you were telling me that Ms. Lee was married?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s not married,” he said with a triumphant look on his face. “She has a kid but she’s not married.” I rolled my eyes. We had an extensive argument about that the other day and I figured I was right. I didn’t even consider the possibility that she could be a single mother.

“Guys,” Ten spoke up. “Do you wanna go for breakfast on Saturday? There’s that pancake place and a carnival is supposed to happen near it on that day so I say we go.” Johnny nodded.

“Sounds good to me.”

I thought for a while. “I don’t know…I might have plans that day because Amanda said she wanted to hang out.”

“Y/n,” both Johnny and Ten whined. I looked between them, chuckling. “You have to come,” said Ten. “It would be much funner with the three of us.”

“Fun,” Johnny corrected him. “It would be more fun if you came along.” Ten made a face at him and I smiled. Well, if Johnny wanted me to come I didn’t think telling Amanda to delay the plan until next week was such a concern.

“Okay, I’ll come.”

Saturday rolled around quickly and I made sure to finish all my work Friday night so I would have a stress-free weekend to spend with my two friends. I figured it would be pretty casual so I just dressed myself in a white shirt and a pair of loose fitted jeans. I texted both Ten and Johnny; I didn’t receive a reply from Ten but Johnny said he would be coming to pick me up.

My mother had started becoming a little iffy about me hanging with the two boys ever since high school but I guess the only reason she remained silent about her reservations was because those “two boys” were my best friends from the third grade.

“Is that Johnny’s car?” asked my mom, pushing the curtain aside to get a better view. “It is, isn’t it?” Johnny was the only one out of us who hadn’t failed his driver’s test. Ten had his learners’ license but I had none.

“Yeah, that’s him, I guess I need to go.”

“Invite him inside for a bit, isn’t it a bit early?”

I shook my head. “We’re going for breakfast, mom. Anyway, I’ll see you in while.”

“Have fun!” my mom called as I left the house and made my way towards Johnny’s car. Johnny was wearing the red pullover I had gotten him for his birthday last year and he smiled as I climbed in. He looked especially good in red.

“Hey, weren’t you gonna pick up Ten?” I asked, clipping my seatbelt in place. Johnny started the car again and began to drive.

“He texted me this morning saying he couldn’t make it,” he explained, taking his eyes off the road for a second to unlock his phone and show me the chat. I scrolled through it, reading each word carefully. Ten was the one who suggested we have breakfast together in the first place, why would he suddenly change his mind?

“I have a math test on Monday that I need to study for, you guys go ahead without me,” I read the text aloud and then glanced at Johnny. “We’re in the same math class and I don’t remember anything about a text.”

Johnny chuckled. “Guess Ten really doesn’t wanna go out today. He probably just wants to sleep a little longer.” I laughed; that seemed like something Ten would do.

Then it hit me. Why would Ten lie? This wasn’t just an excuse, he planned this. He decided if I couldn’t ask Johnny myself, he’d have to make me hang out with him alone. I looked at my own phone, noticing that he had received my message and saw it, but he still didn’t reply. This was part of Ten’s scheme, he was just a really, really bad liar.

I turned to Johnny. “We’re still gonna go for breakfast…and then go to the carnival?”

“Yeah of course,” Jonny replied. “Ten just won’t be here and we’ll have to brag about all the fun we had to him when we get back.” I giggled. That was a given; Ten was gonna pay for this.

When we got to House of Pancakes, Johnny parked closest to the entrance and we walked in. “I guess it’s on me since Ten’s not here,” said Johnny as we found an empty place to sit.

“What if I want to pay for you this time?”

Johnny shook his head. “As much as I would enjoy that, I think I should keep my gentle-man-ly image.” I laughed mockingly.

“Keep the gentle part but please move the ‘manly’ part, Johnny, don’t kid yourself,” I teased and Johnny tilted his head at me, plastering a fake hurt expression on his face.

“I’m actually offended,” he said. “I guess I’m not paying for you anymore.”

As we ate our breakfast, I realized I was wrong about my relationship with Johnny. I thought things would get awkward or we’d run out of things to talk about but it was the exact opposite. We explored every subject there ever was to talk about and the only time Johnny would pause was to swallow his food. I guess I should have been more thankful towards Ten.

I didn’t think it was possible to fall deeper in love with Johnny until now. With Ten and I, he was great but with just me, Johnny seemed different. Maybe it was just my biased mind telling me things, but I liked this Johnny so much better.

“Are you okay?” asked Johnny as we walked away from the swinging boat ride. Well, I was stumbling. That ride knocked me off my hinges. The carnival was pretty small but there were a lot of fun things there that we hadn’t tried yet.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I breathed, stopping for a second to balance myself. Johnny was holding my arm as support and I swear I didn’t just stop so he could hold on longer.

“Sorry I pressured you into going on that ride. I thought it would be fun.”

I shook my head, laughing. “No, its fine. It was fun but also a little scary.” Johnny chuckled and put his arm around my shoulder. I tried to control my suddenly rushed breathing.

“If you think that was fun, I’m sure there are other rides you’d find much more fun,” he said with a smirk on his face. I made a face at him and pushed him away. The rest of the day was just as good, or even better. Johnny rode on the all rides I wanted to go on and he even bought me candy and snacks, we shared powdered donuts and even by the end of it, I was still hungry.

“It’s sorta embarrassing but my mom made sandwiches and said I should pack them in case we’re not back by lunch,” said Johnny sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled at me. I laughed.

“I don’t mind. Tell your mom thanks, I’m just really hungry.” The two of us left the gates towards Johnny’s car. In the backseat, there was a container which held the sandwiches and Johnny flushed bright pink as he brought it out. To save his embarrassment, I took the container from his hand and opened it up quickly.

“Hey, these smell good,” I told him, picking up one of the sandwiches. They were all cut in triangles and had their crusts off. This is how she’s made them ever since we were all little kids. Johnny didn’t have to be embarrassed; I’ve seen his mom do even worse stuff.

“Do you wanna go somewhere else, or should we go home?” asked Johhny, closing the lid of the container as he finished up his sandwich. I was sitting on the hood of his car while he was seated on the pavement of the sidewalk.

“We can go home,” I said, brushing the crumbs off my jeans. In my head, I knew I had to tell Johnny. This was the prime time; we were all alone except for the few people who were getting in their cars to return home. The sky was darkening as evening approached. Tomorrow was another weekend, so if this went the wrong way, I wouldn’t have to see him the next day. But I had a feeling about this, so I told myself not to think about the “what-ifs”.

My phone vibrated beside me and I took a quick glance at it. A message preview from Ten was displayed on the screen: I’m outside the parking lot of the carnival. Then two more: I’m in my dad’s black car and meet me right now. I typed out a rushed reply.

No, I can’t.

A second later. Please Y/N, it’s really important. I turned off my phone and ignored the message. He’d have to wait because I had already waited years for this moment and I wasn’t about to let it pass me by.

“Johnny,” I said, gathering up all my courage. My heart was beating fast; I hadn’t planned what I was going to say so my mind was racing with thoughts.

“Yeah?” asked Johnny as he put the container back in the car and walked over to where I was sitting. I took his hand in mine, expecting him to be surprised. But he wasn’t at all; he just came closer and held my other hand, like it was no big deal. “What’s up?”

I looked down at my lap. My thoughts weren’t providing me with full sentences; just bits and pieces of suggested ideas, but nothing useful. I didn’t have much time to wait or else this would get really awkward and I still didn’t have a single clue of how to explain the feelings I’ve had for the past 3 years.

Then I had a thought; kiss him. If I couldn’t say with words, then actions would have to do. Seconds were ticking and my backside was starting to feel numb from the cold hood of the car. Every nerve, every instinct in my body screamed don’t do it, but right now my mind was blurred and all I could do was listen to that one single thought.

I pulled Johnny closer and straightened up, pressing my lips against his. In that very moment, it felt like time had stopped. I knew Johnny was surprised because for a fraction of a second, I felt his lips leave mine but before I could realize it, he had connected them again and we were kissing.

I’d fantasized this moment too many times but this was better than I had ever imagined. The feeling of Johnny’s long, narrow fingers tangled through mine and my legs around his waist, it felt too surreal. But it was happening and I felt the happiest I’d ever been in a long time. The profoundness of his lips moving against mine and our tongues pressing made me feel like I was the luckiest girl in the world.

And then he broke the kiss, ending the high I was briefly on. I felt ecstatic but the frown on Johnny’s face caused me to simmer back to reality quickly. I sighed, my lips already missing his sweet taste, and brought myself to look directly at him.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to say, my voice just above a whisper. I slid off the car and I swallowed the anxiety that caused a lump to form in my throat. “Is something wrong?” Johnny stood back, flustered. He looked like had just committed a crime and I felt a sense of worry growing in the pit of my stomach. Nothing’s wrong, I tried reassuring myself.

“I-I asked Yujin to be my girlfriend,” Johnny blurted out. The anxiety came back, settling over me like a dark cloud. “I asked her yesterday while we working on the project.” I don’t know if he knew he was making it worse or not. I just stood there, staring at him wide eyes and inwardly wanting to shoot myself.

“Oh okay,” I said quietly, staring at the floor and pressing my fingers together tightly, a habit of mine that often showed when I was nervous. A strong silence stretched between us. I couldn’t stand the tension.

“Damn it, Y/N, don’t do that,” Johnny suddenly said.

“Do what?”

“Talk, say something, anything. Just stop…stop being quiet, it’s making me feel like an asshole.”

“What do you want me to say?” I asked him. If I talked anymore, I would start crying. “I have to go home.” I turned around and began walking but Johnny grabbed my arm.

“No, don’t go home, please. I’m so sorry,” the words were just spilling from his mouth. “I swear, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Just stop,” I told him, biting the inside of my cheek to hold back the tears a little longer. “Stop, you’re making it worse.” My voice was trembling so hard, I didn’t know if he even understood what I was saying. “Just let me leave.”

“How are you gonna get home?” Johnny asked and there was genuine concern in his voice.

I whispered, “Ten will take me home,” and Johnny seemed satisfied with that answer so I walked to the place where Ten wanted to meet me. The car was there and I could faintly make out Ten’s figure inside it. He was leaning his head against the steering wheel like he was frustrated about something. I suddenly regretted ignoring his messages.

I knocked on the window of the passenger’s side of the car and Ten looked up. His mouth fell open when he saw me and he quickly unlocked the car. I climbed in. “What took you so long?” he asked. Ten’s reassuring presence caused me to burst into tears.

“I hate myself, I hate myself so much!” I sobbed into my hands. Ten put his arms around me as much as he could and let me cry into his shirt while he stroked my hair comfortingly.

“I wanted to tell you but you wouldn’t reply to my messages.”

I yanked myself out his arms, feeling completely betrayed. Him being here didn’t feel to reassuring anymore. “You knew…and you didn’t tell me?”

“Y/N, I tried telling you, that’s why I’m here. You didn’t answer my messages, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“That doesn’t matter, Ten, why didn’t you tell me as soon as you found out? Or this morning when you decided to ditch our breakfast date?” Ten didn’t say anything. “How could you let this happen to me?’

“I-I didn’t want to hurt you.”

I gulped, tears streaming down my face again. “You hurt me…Johnny hurt me too. I thought you two were my friends.” Ten reached over and held my hand.

“We are your friends, Y/N, we always were and always will be.” My anxiety was telling me something different. I couldn’t take it anymore. I opened the car door and got out.

“I hate you, Ten, and I hate Johnny too. Don’t talk to me again, you can tell him that.” I slammed the car door in anger and began to call my mom to pick me up.

“How are you gonna get home?” Ten exclaimed, rolling down the car window. Why did they care so much? I pressed the phone to my ear and raised my middle finger in the air so that he could clearly see I meant what I said.

i hope the ending is surprising enough :)) i really think there should be a part 2 to this, i even made one in my head but i hope you like this

#nct #nct127 #johnny seo #ten #mark #taeil #winwin #taeyong #doyoung #jaehyun #haechan #kpop #kpop scenarios

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imaginingit · 8 years

Text

crush!jungkook

happy valentine’s day mothafuckas ;)

i love jeon jungkook are u bitches ready

you first met jungkook when you heard the sound of a moving truck beep its way into the driveway next to yours

now u were always a child of adventure

ur parents worked a lot so it was basically u at home with ur grandparents and they were the most chill motherfuckers on the face of the planet

and the front door of ur house always seems to be unlocked so u were the poster boy/gal of “adventure is out there!!!”

cue me ugly crying that movie kills m e

u loved the outdoors and being adventurous

u were so tomboy and reckless it was hilarious

u drove every single member of ur family insane

they got called into school one time to u staring at the ground in the principal’s office next to a kid with a missing tooth and bloody nose

“he tried to hug me”

to summarize, u loved causing trouble, but have fun in the midst!

and yes, meeting new ppl!!

and at dinner, u would hear ur grandpops and grandma talking abt the couple moving in next door

and how they have also have a 6!! year!! old!! son!!

and u could barely keep ur head on the pillow that night bc omg! you can’t wait to have a new friend the same age as u!

so on that beautiful sunny saturday morning, at exactly 7am sharp, with ur scabby knees, bruised legs, ripped shorts, mismatched socks, run-down light up sneakers, and ur older brother’s hand-me-down power rangers sweatshirt, you marched on over to the driveway to meet your new best friend

and u see a middle aged man and a beautiful woman trying to carry in a couple boxes together and u guessed those were the parents

and as u were marvelling at how pretty they were, “man, if they look that good, how good does their son loo--”

“MOM, DAD, HELP IM STUCK IN THE SOFA!!”

u have no idea what came over u but u almost tripped over the tall weeds trying to get into the truck and find the source of the voice

you went straight to the yellow, flower-y sofa resting in the middle of the truck, with little boy limbs sticking out from under the cushions

u ran up and ripped them away and low and behold, u laid ur eyes on the most beautiful 6 year old there ever was

and from then on, ur heart decided to plant its FUCKING BOTTOM with jungkook forever

from the first day he met u he literally believed u were the weirdest person he’s ever met

but without a doubt, you became childhood friends

like best friends

u saw him naked for the first time when u were 8 and just bursted into his shower at like 8am in the morning

“Y/N WHAT THE FUCK GET OUT IM NAKED?????”

“omg it’s so smALL?”

he didn’t speak to you for two weeks after that

your grandparents would always have him over for dinner

you guys played make believe together and took naps in ur power ranger blanket together

but it’s also a lot of bullying

LOTS OF WRESTLING

taking turns making ugly faces, whoever laughs first has to go and tell ur grandma they pooped their pants and needs help changing it

“accidentally” slapping each other SUPER hard in the face

“you had a fly on ur cheek sorry!! couldn’t help it!!”

literally the purest and most innocent friendship ever ever ever

everyday in first grade, when you had reading time, he would be in the seat behind you and fold a tiny little paper plane with a sticky note and throw it at you

would keep folding them and throwing it at you until you noticed and turned around and yelled at him and got in trouble by your student teacher

“i hate u jeon jungkook”

you didn’t really

but it wasn’t until the third or fourth time he kept doing it that you realized there was a message on each of them

and they weren’t really anything cute

they were just like

“hey notice me”

“your hair looks greasy from the back”

“what book are you reading”

“don’t ignore me”

“am i being annoying?”

“yea? good.”

but your favourite was

“i’m glad you’re in my class”

because he would rarely ever show affection to you because your relationship was made up a lot of the “we don’t need to say anything to know it”, meaning you never needed to straight out express your gratitude to each other for the other to know that you’re appreciated

main point is you grew up together

however, after like the fourth grade

you both somehow decided that you were too cool for each other despite the fact that your crush on him was still there

there was something so mesmerizing about the fact that

he never truly ever demeaned you as a person??? like yes he was a tease and you guys always did those things to each other

but for a kid, he was always somewhat of a gentleman and would never make fun of you to deliberately hurt your feelings

unfortunately doe, in middle school, your group of friends completely changed

and although you guys sort of had the same status in school of being popular but very, very laidback, and your groups of friends acquainted with one another, your interactions would be saying hi, making small talk when you were with a handful of other people and smiling at each other as you pass by the halls

back then, you would walk home together every single day and spend time doing homework in the bedroom of one of you two

but as the grades went on and the workload increased, you found music and student council and volleyball whereas he found track and basketball and dance

his family went through troubles and he found it difficult to talk to people at times

and you were so busy with finding a job and saving up for post-secondary that you spent after school with your clubs or in the library studying

timing and interests for you guys were extremely unparalleled and eventually, things just grew apart before high school began

and oh dear

high school

periods? check. acne? check. hormones? check. grOWTH SPURTS? check.

now, reader, entering high school, you only had one rule: forget. about. jeon. jungkook.

and it wasn’t like he was being a dick or anything to you, you just didn’t find any way that you guys would work out anymore

despite being best friends and literally showering together when you were 7 and your parents are best friends, you just never ever have proper conversations anymore, and things just naturally got awkward

and also life lesson for u guys omg so philosophical what it wasn’t anyone’s fault, you guys just happened to no longer have the same interests or the time to notice each other anymore - people drift apart. it happens.

and you were so okay with coming to terms with that

until

“oh my gosh is that jeon jungkook?”

“he... grew muscles?”

“giRL HIS HAIR”

“puberty hit him like a freight train???”

the morning of sophomore year, after a whole first year of properly avoiding him and being absolutely sure that he wasn’t going to get hot (jungkook is juST A LATE BLOOMER OK LEAVE HIM ALONE), you turned your head to the front doors and felt the wind get knocked out of you

bc walking in with his friends, with the school uniform seemingly perfectly snug and hugging every one of his curves

was jungkook

and for some reason

yes he looked more mature and yes he got fucking MANLIER

but you were instantly reminded of something that clicked in you when you saw that 6 year old boy stuck in the sofa on the very first day he moved in next to you

was it that innocence? was it the charm? was it the hair-swept-away-from-face thing? you diDN’T KNOW

but girl you were gone again

and listen

you dated people in freshman year and guys liked you, but you were never the type to chase or to fawn

you were just different from other girls like you would much rather be the type to be the one playing ball than the one in a miniskirt cheering on the team on the sidelines

that’s just who you are, heck you fucking punched a dude that wanted to hug you and say thank you, broke his nose and chipped his tooth like kk y/n

it was just difficult for you to grasp feelings, truly, but for some reason, this guy has just got you so weak???

and for some other reason, jungkook and the reminder and memories of you guys as kids just hits you like a truck and you’re already head over heels once again

and you go into first period to shake off the thought of him but ofc!!! he’s!!!! in!!!! ur!!! first!! period!!! literature!!! ihml!!!

so you take the seat diagonally in the front of him to make sure you don’t get sidetracked in ur favourite class and drool at him the entire time

oNE DAY

you were taking notes from the board, analyzing and reviewing the literary device and short stories before delving into the actual stuff in literature when you dropped your pencil and leaned down to grab it

when you saw an arm reach down first

and hand it to you

you looked up

and you guessed it

biTCH IT WAS JUNGKOOK AND he had such a warm and friendly smile

and you could barely say anything

because on one hand you were like oh i’m glad he still remembers who i am??? like ffs? but your other side is like oh my god oh my god oh my god

so weeks go by and every single day you feel such a burning sensation at the back of ur neck like fufufufuffufufu he’s RIGHT THERE

and jungkook isn’t that type to be extremely boisterous and loud and obnoxious even if he’s hot shit

so you weren’t worried about him bothering you whatsoever after that like that was a fluke, he was being nice, whatever, it’s done

a couple weeks go by and you’re starting to feel better now, thinking you’ve got this crush thing under control

until

silent reading time

you were just assigned a new book by your favourite author! and you couldn’t wait to begin the book reports on these

so you dove into the world of fire-breathing dragons and mystical knights and creatures beyond reality

when you felt a poke on your neck

and you had no idea what it was? you were so engulfed in the story that you just scratched and left it, not thinking twice

and then you felt it again

it took you a second, but it hit you

and it hit you hard

you turned your head around slowly and your heart was beating so fast

your eyes fall on a small pink sticky note, folded into a plane, dropped on your shoulder

you don’t even DARE LOOKING BAC K AT HIM BC U KNOW UR HANDS AR E SHAKING TOO HARD AND IF YOU SEE HIM YOU MIGHT ACTUALLY DROP DEAD

so you open it, careful to make no noise in the silent classroom

and on the single sticky note it read:

“it’s good to see you again. i’m so so glad you’re in my class.”

you sneak a tiny glance back at the boy behind you, your face flushing with heat and memories

and from behind his book, he looks up and gives you the tiniest, warmest smile you’ve ever received

you folded the paper once more and fit it in your pocket and returned to your dragons and knights and witches, all the while smiling like a fool to yourself because maybe, just maybe, you didn’t really drift apart that much at all

hi guys!! so sorry for the late update, hope you enjoy thisssss:)

also side note: just because it’s valentine’s day (i mean i dont celebrate this) doesnt mean that you need a significant other! buy yourself some hershey’s, make some tea, snuggle up with a teddy bear and a blanket, and switch on some netflix. today is any other day, so don’t demean yourself and your experience with this day because of your status!

alsoooo don’t wanna get a little preachy but, in this au i kind of hint at the fact that the y/n or reader is someone very tomboyish and doesn’t really seem to find herself chasing after boys. in no way am i trying to vocalize the fact that just because you’re of a certain nature, your personality towards boys reflects that. this is just a fictional work of how one might feel (presumably me lolz) when realizing feelings for someone they truly loved at one point. just because a woman who is normally tougher on the exterior has a sudden soft spot for a boy does not indicate that she’s lost sense of herself or that she succumbs to a boy. just because a woman is a certain way because of a boy that makes her feel different doesn’t mean she is any less of a woman herself. everyone is obligatory to their feelings, and how women choose to express themselves sexually or emotionally to a man they love is their own personal choice as long as they are within consent and are safe. everyone’s decisions and behaviours in love are consensual and their own - that does not demean them as a feminist in any way, shape or form. remember that.

have fun, y’all, uSE PROTECTION, and i love u!!!

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