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songbirdsingingthings · 4 years ago

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Girls Day - Shoto Todoroki

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

Work for you this week was grueling to say the least. Your agency had assigned you to lead a coalition of heroes to take down a group of villains holding hostages, which for you was no problem. What was a problem, however, was the fact that some of the heroes in your group got sloppy which led to some of the hostages getting injured. Thankfully none of the injuries led to fatalities, but a couple came pretty close. This stuck you working in your office for four days straight writing up paperwork and detailing exactly how everything happened. You knew you had no fault in this, and so did your superiors, but you were technically responsible for those who did make mistakes.

After you finally finished dotting the last i and crossing the last t, you scanned and faxed the documents over to your higher ups, stuffed any necessary paperwork that involved other agendas into your work bag, and finally, finally, turned off your laptop. You took a deep breath and ran a hand through your hair, but stopped halfway when you got a call on your cell. You see your good friend, Ochaco Uraraka, soon to be Ochaco Midoriya, is the contact listed as calling.

“Hey Ochaco, what’s up?” You asked, fatigue clear in your voice.

“Hey Y/N! Nothing much, I was just wondering if you were free tomorrow! I was thinking of having a girls day - you, me, Momo, Tsu, Mina, Jirou, and Hagakure! You in?” Relishing in the idea of a relaxing day off, a smile spreads across your face.

“Hell yeah I’m in. Where are we all meeting?” You say as you simultaneously begin to shut off the lights in your office.

“Well, those new outlet malls just opened up, I was thinking of heading there! There’s sure to be a lot of cute things, maybe you could get something for a date night with Todoroki!” You blushed lightly as she mentioned your boyfriend’s name and rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, well, we both have to have time off for a date night to happen in the first place. You know both of us well enough to know that we’re workaholics.” You joke. It was true to an extent, though. Both you and Shoto were busy people whose work schedules, more often than not, didn’t line up. The two of you made it clear to each other when the relationship started that you couldn’t really get mad at eachother for occasionally canceling dates or having dinner late. The life of a hero was tough and erratic - you couldn’t really count on when a villain was going to strike.

“If Shoto Todoroki sees you wanting to have a date night, he’s going to make it happen. Add a fancy outfit to that? Girl, you’re set.” You laugh at Ochaco’s statement and lock your door, making your way to the elevator. You give parting smiles to the people still working at the desks on the main floor and a quiet wave to your receptionist. You continue to chat with Ochaco about fun ideas for the day tomorrow like where to eat, if you were going to get your nails done, and maybe heading to the brand new spa.

“Oh, that just sounds like heaven. I’ve been dying to get a massage - I’ve been stuck at my desk for the past few days and my shoulders are absolutely killing me.” You open the big glass doors that belong to your agency, finally making your way outside to where a certain red-and-white haired man stood waiting with a bouquet of (your favorite flower). Your face immediately softens and you give him a giddy smile. “Hey, I’m gonna have to call you back. I can’t wait for tomorrow!” You and Ochaco say goodbye and you hang up.

“Who was that?” Shoto asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Ochaco,” you respond as you stuff your phone into your coat pocket, “the girls and I are going out for a girls day tomorrow.” you announce happily, leaning into Shoto to give him a quick kiss. You trade your bag for the flowers, at his insistence, and take his free hand in yours.

“That’ll be nice - you deserve a nice day out.” Shoto says, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. You hum in response and smell the flowers, sighing at its aroma.

“What about you? Do you have to go in tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but it’s a short day for me,” he says, “just finalizing some recruitments for internships.” You smile at his words.

“It’s so great that you're doing that Sho,” you say, “I remember how happy I was when I got to go intern for Hawks. I probably didn’t stop smiling for weeks.” Shoto chuckles at that.

“Yeah I remember. You were practically buzzing with excitement.” Recollection of another memory crosses his mind which makes him laugh harder.

“What?” You say, grinning.

“I remember you calling me and telling me how Tokoyami basically had to shut you up because Hawks was too nice to tell you to stop talking when you were on a mission.” At this point he was cackling. You laugh with him and swat him with the flowers causing some petals to fall away.

“Ugh that was so embarrassing,” you say, watching Shoto wipe a tear that had escaped as he was laughing, “the hue of my face was practically identical to your red hair.

The drive back to your shared apartment was full of laughter and more memories from your time at UA. When Shoto finally confessed, when your relationship became official, and all the silly moments in between. You finally arrive home and the two of you decide to have leftovers for dinner and watch a movie on the couch. You were so perfectly happy at this moment. You and your boyfriend, unwinding at the end of the day. The fact that you were so comfortable with living with each other now that you could be slouched on your couch, eating leftovers right out of the tupperware, and watching a stupid rom com on T.V. .

Finally it was time to go to bed. Your eyes were already shut by the time Shoto finished washing up and you feel the dip in the mattress beside you. It was quiet as you were wrapped in his arms. Well, quiet until Shoto nudged your shoulder with his chin.

“Take my credit card when you go out tomorrow.” He says quietly, pressing a kiss against the back of your neck.

“Shoto Todoroki, I will do no such thing.” You mumble, eyes still closed.

“Please?” He asks quietly, making you melt a little, “I want tomorrow to be completely relaxing. I know you credit yourself as a smart shopper, but I want you to just spend whatever you want on anything you want.” He says as he nuzzles you.

“Sho, I make almost as much as you - I can go shopping with my own card.” You respond. However, his next few words make you agree rather quickly to using his.

“The one I’m giving you is tied to my father’s bank account.”

“...Okay deal.”

By the time you wake up the following morning, Shoto is already gone. You stretch your arms and back and groan. You push the stray hair in front of your face behind your ear and see a little note next to a danish and a silver credit card.

“Breakfast for you, my love. Have a great day. Also, I booked a reservation at that fancy restaurant in town that you like for 7:30 p.m. . Go crazy with the card, my father won’t even notice. Love, your Shoto.”

Your heart always flutters when he writes you letters and signs them with “your Shoto”. It’s a sweet affirmation that you have his heart. You nibble on the danish as you scroll through messages on your phone, the most recent ones from Ochaco and the girls.

Mina: We’re meeting at the outlets at 11:00 a.m. right?

Ochaco: Yup! Get excited!

You eventually roll out of bed and stroll into your closet, looking at the array of clothes hanging up. You decide on a casual yet chic outfit and get dressed. You grab the coffee waiting for you on the counter in the kitchen, yet another gift from shoto, stuff Endeavor’s credit card into your purse, and make your way to the outlets by taxi. When you finally get there, you see that the whole group is there. You thank and pay the driver quickly and rush out to meet up with your friends.

“Y/N!” they all say, giving you a big hug.

“Hey guys! Wow, it’s so great to see all of you here together - I can’t remember the last time we all met up!” You say, grinning. As a group you all make your way into the mall, stopping by some high end boutiques and designer stores.

“How’s the fiance?” You ask Ochaco, wiggling your eyebrows. She gives you a smile as she looks through some of the skirts hanging on the rack next to her.

“Oh, Izuku’s great. Couldn’t be more excited about the wedding, if I’m honest.” She says giggling. The two of you talk about the wedding planning and everything for a bit, listening to Ochaco gush about how involved Izuku is with the process.

“What about you Y/N? Any wedding bells in your future?” Mina says, popping into the conversation. You blush and try to make yourself look busy by inspecting the hem on a shirt very carefully.

“Oh, I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, Shoto and I are going super well right now, it’s just that the both of us are so busy. I always thought that we would get married but I don’t really know about how he feels about it.” The girls quirk their eyebrows at this, confused as to how the two of you hadn’t had a conversation about that yet. Quickly, you clear everything up. “I just don’t want him to think of his parents’ predicament - I mean that was his first view on marriage, and I know that he knows that that’s not how marriage works, but I feel like it might be a touchy subject.” The girls nod and give you reassuring smiles.

“Oh Y/N, you have got to try the dress on. I mean, it’s made for you.” You hear Momo say. You follow her gaze to a mannequin and couldn’t even try to hold back the gasp that left your mouth. It truly was beautiful. The dress was navy in color and was clearly made of an expensive material. The sleeves, which were long sleeves, were also sheer and dotted with small pearls. On the mannequin as well were matching shoes and a bag. You just couldn’t keep your eyes off of it. It was so expensive, in fact, that you had to ask the store manager directly to go into the back and grab you your size so that you could try it on. You had to say, when you put that dress on, you felt like a million bucks. Momo was right, it really was made for you. Sliding the curtain back so that the rest of the girls could see, you didn’t even try to hide your smile as you saw the girls’ reactions.

“Y/N L/N, if you weren’t already taken I would pounce on you myself.” Mina says, making you laugh. You get similar compliments from the rest of the girls, making you smile, and taking the dress and the accessories up to the register. The woman there kindly wraps the dress, shoes, and bag carefully in tissue paper and places the three items into a pretty shopping bag. You had fun during the rest of the day, eating lunch, getting a mani-pedi, and a massage, but you couldn’t contain your excitement at the thought of wearing that dress to yours and Shoto’s dinner date that evening.

After your busy day of shopping, you immediately run home to shower. You had about an hour to wash your hair and body, making sure to shave your legs so that you looked totally put together that evening. You manage to do your hair in your favorite formal style, slip on your dress and shoes, and swing the small matching bag over your shoulder. You put on a tiny bit of make-up, just a light coat of mascara and a sheer layer of lip gloss. You look at yourself in the mirror and almost explode. You even had to admit it to yourself. You. Looked. HOT.

You finally make your way to the restaurant and ask the hostess at the front to direct you to your table. She led you to where Shoto was sitting, looking at the menu. As soon as he registers people coming towards him, he looks up but almost chokes. Seeing you in that dress almost made his eyes pop out of his head. He couldn’t even form a coherent thought as he mindlessly thanked the hostess and watched you sit down across from him. Smirking, you gently wave a hand in front of his face.

“Earth to Shoto! Is someone in there?” You said, giggling softly. The only thing Shoto could say was something that he had been thinking about for the past two years non-stop. With no filter and no reason to stop himself, he made that thought known.

“You wanna get married?”

#todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x y/n #todoroki x reader #shoto #shoto x reader #mha x y/n #mha imagines #mha x reader #mha #shoto todoroki #mha fluff #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha shoto todoroki #fluff #shoto fluff #todoroki fluff #todoroki x reader fluff #shoto todoroki x reader

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alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom · 4 years ago

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Chapter V : Inopportune moment

This moodboard is just wow. Thank you so much @flowers-in-your-hayr, you are such a talent!!

a/n: After a lot of smut and a bit BDSM from the last chapter, I wanted a little more drama and fluff. This chapter was the result. I hope you like it, like I do. Sorry for mistakes, English is not my first language.

Pairing: ALEX x Reader X MARCO

Word: 2758

Spotify: Kiana Ledé & Jacquees - Only Fan

Warning: more fluff than the other chapters and always a bit of smut, +18

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV

Summary: Something is bothering you, but you don't know how to address it. Your relationship is being tested, maybe unfounded?!

You've been working a lot lately. Also had a lot of night shifts, so you didn't see the guys very often. During the day you always slept and in the evening before work you attended the Danish course. Your Danish was pretty good by now. Nevertheless, Alex and Marco were still joking about your pronunciation, which wasn't very good.

"When are you coming to the pub tonight? You know we're all going.’’ asked Marco. You had to work in the evening, so you planned to go after that.

‘’Without overtime I should be there at 11pm.’’ You ran through the apartment and quickly put on your shoes. You were a little late and had to hurry. Marco packed the prepared food for you and and gave you a little kiss.

“Thank you, baby. See you Alex, byee’’. You called stressed and closed the door behind you.

“She's so cute when she's in a hurry’’ commented Alex.

******

After work you took a detour and stopped at home to freshen up before going to the pub. You walked into the pub and it already smelled strongly of beer and a few were already slightly drunk. You took off your coat and looked out for your boys. In one corner you recognized Marco between the flashing lights, who was playing beer pong with Jordan. You already knew most of their friends, but they didn't know that you also had a relationship with Marco. You pushed yourself through the crowd until you got to him and covered his eyes with your cold hands. Marco had his back to you, so he couldn’t see you

"Hey baby, how's the party going?" You said in an erotic tone. He turned around and hugged you tightly.

“Hey baby, I thought you'd never come. Should I get you a Martini or do you want a beer too?” He didn't want to let go of you anymore and was still holding you by the waist. It was always very hard for him not to kiss you.

“I'll have your beer. We always share everything, don't we? '' You winked at him.

"You look so sexy tonight baby; dark blue looks great on you. I actually have a couple of kisses; I want to give you after the party.’’ Jordan came back from the bar bringing more beer, so that Marco couldn't answer.

"Hey Jordan, how are you? Haven't seen you in a long time.'' He was so drunk that he stepped on your feet when he greeted you.

"Where's Alex actually?" You asked curiously.

"He's over there," Jordan pointed to a corner. You saw Alicia, Clara and Georgia dancing around him.

"Marco, what the hell is Clara doing here?" You looked at him angrily.

"She's the best friend of Georgia, what am I supposed to do?" You were really pissed off because he didn't tell you everything about her, but you couldn't show it openly. Out of frustration you tore his beer out of your hand and drank it all at once.

“Damn, this girl is tougher than you Marco. I would like Georgia to be like that too.'' Jordan chuckled.

After a while, Alex noticed that you were in the pub too. He moved away from Alicia and came towards you with a smile on his face.

“Elskede, where have you been for so long?” He kissed you, but you didn't return the kiss.

“I missed you so much. I worry every time you're in this big hospital. You should stop working there. You don't even have to go to work. We can take care of you.''

You put your hands on his cheeks and smiled at him. “Aleex, what’s the matter with you, suddenly so worried. I like my work and our team is great, you know it. So do not worry.'' His reaction surprised you. He never had any problems with your work. He even found it attractive to have a nurse as a girlfriend.

“Do you feel good? Don't you want to sit down? Should I get you something to drink?'' You denied, because you recently drank Marco's beer.

“What are you drinking there? Beer? You shouldn't drink beer! '' He took the empty glass out of your hand and put it on the counter.

"Can I get a juice please?" He ordered from the bartender.

"Alex, what's wrong with you? What are you doing? I don't want any juice, let that be '' He pressed the orange juice into your hand.

"Take this, this is healthier". You put the juice back on the counter and were annoyed by his behavior.

,,What has come over you, Alex? I was so happy to see you, and you act so childish.’’ He just said something, but you didn't want to hear anymore. You turned back to Marco and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Marco, can we go somewhere else please, Alex is going crazy." You rolled your eyes and hoped he would go with you.

,,Sure’’ He said goodbye to Jordan, put the coat over your shoulders and opened the door for you.

"Is everything ok baby?" He put his arm around you and you walked down the street. You just nodded.

“I know where we could go. Do you remember Mermaid's pub? It's near here.’’ You looked at him and waited for his reaction.

“I should have spoken to you first instead of Alex. I still regret it today.'’

You didn't know what to say, so you kept quiet. You knew he had feelings for you, but you didn't expect him to be so open about it. You have never spoken directly about your feelings or your relationship. It was never clearly defined who is with whom. Nobody complained about the situation, so you left it that way.

******

As always, it was full of people. Marco took you by the hand so as not to lose you

and pulled you through the crowd. He is taller than you, so you couldn't see where he was going. Finally, you found one free bar stool.

,, The seat is for you, you can sit down.” You were so happy about the seat, your feet were already aching from your high heels. He ordered a beer and a Martini for you.

“I don't know what's wrong with him either. But let's forget about that now. Let's enjoy the time together.'' Commented Marco after you told him what happened.

Marco stood next to you and had his hand on your thigh and was stroking you. He kissed you on the cheek near your lips. You closed your eyes and felt how he hid your hair back with his nose. "You're so beautiful." He said in a hushed tone while his hand squeezed your inner thigh.You held you onto his arm and tugged at him, so that he couldn't go away.

,, What do you think if we stay the night away today? We could go to the hotel where I stayed with Janina last time. I don't feel like going home. ''

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see he was smiling. He put his hands on your hips drawing you closer.

"I would even kidnap you and go very far away, where only the two of us exist ". He couldn't take it anymore and kissed you passionately. Marco gave you his hand and helped you get up from the chair. There weren't that many people in the pub anymore, so you could easily walk out. He held you by the waist and followed you.

Your feet hurt so much that the short walk to the hotel seemed like an eternity. You stopped, leaned against a cold wall and took off your high heels; the party was over anyway.

"Baby are you serious? It's so cold and you want to walk barefoot."

"My feet hurt so much; I hardly feel them anymore."

,,I’ll carry you''. Marco held one hand on your upper body and the other on the back of your knee and picked you up.

********

Marco took the most beautiful room of the whole hotel and it was breathtaking. The large bed was covered by many fluffy pillows, just as you liked. In the middle was a bouquet of aquamarine colored flowers.

"They're at least as beautiful as you baby" you blushed.

"Thank you" you mumble and smell the flowers. You were so ashamed that you didn't dare look him in the eyes.

The bathroom was huge and had a rain shower. You took off your gray velvet dress and put it on the sink, your underwear lay on the floor. You did not pay attention to what Marco was doing or thinking.

The thin, gentle jets of water slowly wet your skin. Your lipstick was washed away by the warm water. Your wet hair defined the contours of your face. It sensitized your senses. You closed your eyes and heard the water running down your body.

"Are you ok baby?" Murmured Marco and embraced you.

You turned around and kissed him without saying anything. His lips were made for kissing. You felt a deep love. You didn't miss anything and could let yourself go completely. His kisses and touches made you feel like a feather. His tongue slid over your neck, down over your breasts. He caressed your curves symmetrically with both hands. He wasn't pushy at all and made sure you liked it too. You lifted your leg up and then the other so that you wrapped them around his hips.He propped you up against the shower wall. You pushed him closer to you, because you wanted to feel his cock deeper. He moaned lightly in your mouth. Marco gave you the time and you felt your slowgasm coming closer. A wave of heat flowed all over your body, causing your nails to sink into his skin and bite into his lip. He twitched slightly. It was an uncontrollable urge, you just had to do it.

******

It was morning and Marco woke you up. You lay on your side and he gently stroked your shoulder. "Hey baby, they brought breakfast."

You were so tired that you couldn't give a clear answer. He took your hair off your face and caressed your cheek.

"Baby! Look at your back, what have I done to you!" You were scared, ran to the mirror and saw a lot of bruises.

"It's not that bad, nobody can't see it." You giggled. The serving trolley was standing right next to you and smelled wonderfully. You grabbed the serving tray and took it back to bed.

Do you love me baby? " you asked with coffee in hand.

"Yes of course".

“And will you always stay with me? "

,,Yes of course." He replied confidently.

"No matter what happens?"

"No matter what!"

,,Are you sure?"

“I'm absolutely sure. You are the first woman I feel loved by. You won't get rid of me, don't be afraid "

,,I have to tell you something..." He dropped the bread and looked at you.

"Tell me!" He realized it was something serious and got nervous. You played with the coffee spoon and didn't have the courage to say it.

"I haven't got my period yet" You said the sentence very quickly and mumbling, but Marco understood it very clearly.

“What does that mean you haven't got your period yet? Are you pregnant?” He took your hand and looked at you.

"Hey baby talk to me!" He grabbed your chin. You saw his worried face and you started crying. He got up and took you in his arms.

" Let's sit down over there.” He held your hands.

,, So tell me everything from the beginning now. I won't leave you no matter what, I promise."

,, I’m waiting for my period for five days. I made a pregnancy test two days ago and it was negative. But the period is still not here and that worries me so much. I don't know what to do now…I have started a new job; I am in a foreign country and I don't even know who the father is. You both have your career too, and definitely no time for a baby…“ Tears ran down your cheeks while telling the story.

,,But you said that the test was negative, then it is negative. And above all you had a lot of night shifts. You just need a little more patience baby. But if you want, we can do another test together.” He gave you a kiss on the forehead hoping that it would make you feel better.

Your things were packed, and you were ready to go when your cell phone vibrated.

“Elskede, where are you? Is Marco with you? please call me back!” That was one of 6 messages and 8 calls you had from Alex. You showed Marco the text messages.

“I told you, Alex is going completely crazy’’

"Let's go and do the things we wanted to do, then we'll go home, and I'll talk to him." He placed his hand your ass cheek and led you out of the room.

********

You didn't want to see the result first, so you gave it to Marco straight away. You were so tense that you could feel your heart beating in your throat.

You finished getting dressed again when he called: "Baby, it's negative." He knocked on the bathroom door. You were speechless and did not know whether you heard him correctly.

"Baby do you hear me? It's negative. I said it'll be all right. ''

You came out and were relieved "I want to go shopping now."

"Although a baby would have made me happy.’’ chuckled Marco. You punched him in the chest.

,,Marco, shut up'' you giggled. "I need new high heels. Let’s go!"

********

In the afternoon you arrived at home and opened the door. Alex ran to you.

"Where have you been?" He kissed you and hugged you, but you weren't that emotional as he'd hoped.

"We went to another pub, slept in a hotel and Marco bought me new high heels."

"I said you shouldn't drink alcohol." You immediately got mad again.

“Are you starting again with that drama? Really?! You're annoying me!''

You went to your room. But you couldn't close the door, because he placed his foot in the door gap. "Come here we have to talk."He said briskly.

"No, we don't! Go away Alex!"

"Hey Alex, stop, leave her alone." You heard Marco trying to calm Alex down. They discussed in Danish and the situation did not seem to ease.

,, Y / N, I know you are pregnant. I found an empty pack from a pregnancy test in the trash can.'' He yelled and knocked at your door.

"No, she isn’t" Marco replied totally relaxed and has to pull him away.

"You cannot know it Marco, so let me talk to her." He insisted.

,, I know it, believe me, she is not pregnant,… '' Marco wanted to continue but you came out of your room. You wanted to explain yourself. Alex looked very desperate. His elbows resting on the table and his hands were clenched in front of his face. You sat down next to him and took his hand.

“Hey! I'm not pregnant, I did two tests because I haven't got my period yet. The pack you found was the first test and I did the second test today with Marco and both were negative. So, you can calm down! '' You noticed how his mood relaxed and looked at you confused.

,, Is that why you were so anxious about me?’’

,, Elskede, I'm so sorry, I just ... ''

,,I wanted to tell you, but you became so intrusive and I felt so patronized.’’ He showed remorse and knew exactly that he had exaggerated.

"Do you accept my apology?" He felt ashamed. You looked straight into his deep blue eyes .

"Yes I do. You have to trust me more. I would’ve told you, but it was an inopportune moment. ‘’ You kissed him and everything was forgotten again.

Chapter VII: Blurry truth

#vikings #ivar the boneless #alex hogh andersen #alex&marco #alex x reader #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x reader #marco ilsø #marco x reader #alex x reader x marco #fanfiction #hbovikings #vikings cast #alex høgh #alex høgh andersen #marco

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lemonerix · 4 years ago

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Immortality and 4 eons of misery

Day 6: Immortality or Passage of time/ History Au Word count: 3,775

Arthur doesn't know what deity he angered, but he was cursed with immortality. It wasn't all that bad, it had a lot of benefits. He can't die and he can't age. He only has to deal with the fact that he would have to watch everyone he knew and love grow old and die. He was sick of being immortal, he didn't know why so many wanted immortality, it's boring as fuck. You watch every mistake in history repeat over and over, you watch as everything changes around you while you stay the same, you watch everything move onto something new while you're stuck in time. It. Sucks.

However, he had a change of pace when he met a man in the Roman Empire. He wasn't really someone that stood out, but he was quite a charmer. The man, who introduced himself as 'Alfred', was cursed like him too, but his situation was slightly different. Instead of being immortal, his original consciousness is preserved whenever he dies and gets reincarnated.

Now, let us follow the duo's misadventures throughout history.

9th Century Somewhere in the Kingdom of Northumbria

"Wanna bet how long I last out here?"

"Hmm, three minutes. Four tops."

Alfred rolled his eyes, "What? You really think lowly of me, Arthur." The other man just nodded and pulled the younger man to the ground just as a volley of arrows soared above them. "Maybe even sooner if you continue to be an airhead in the battlefield." Arthur drew an arrow and shot another invader, "Why don't you go out there then? Show them the skills you learned in the Roman Empire, and actually be of some help to our forces." he told Alfred, who only rolled his eyes as he twirled his sword on the ground. "Eh, I'm not really in the mood to fight right now. Do you think they still have some food back in camp?"

"How am I supposed to know that? I would really appreciate being left alone right now." Arthur swore when an arrow planted itself on his thigh, "Damn, this is the fifth time today!" Alfred laughed, the archer only glared at him as he broke the shaft and pulled out the head from his thigh like he was picking a berry from a bush. His companion grimaced as he saw the bloody arrow head on Arthur's palm, "I should keep this as a memento." the archer shoved it into his shirt.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Alfred gagged at the disturbing sight.

"What's it to you? If you get to slack off, then I get to keep arrowheads."

"Sure, now I think you're some kind of loony who likes to keep weird things."

"Oh shut it, and get down!" Alfred ducked just as an ax zipped past their heads. Arthur rolled his eyes, "Just get out there and be the hero you think you are, and stop bothering me." he then shot down a man running towards them. Alfred tapped his chin, "Well, if I get to be the hero..." he grinned and shrugged his shoulders, "Ah, what the hell. Just remember the bet, Arthur. Seven pieces of silver and a free drink after all of this mayhem."

"Whatever, now leave me alone.”

Alfred laughed and picked up his sword, "Alright, you Danish bastards! Tremble before the mighty he—ACK!" an arrow lodged itself into his neck; he fell to the ground next to Arthur as he bled to death. The archer only raised an eyebrow, "Well, isn't that just a shame, you didn't even last one minute." he yanked the bloody arrow from the warrior's neck and used it to shoot down another enemy soldier, "Better luck next time, then." Arthur shrugged his shoulders as he took Alfred's sword and dove into the raging battle.

September 4, 1666 London, England

"I assume that you had nothing to do with this?"

"..."

"Arthur, don't tell me you actually caused this inferno."

"..."

Arthur's face was red from embarrassment, he was just borrowing a kitchen because he wanted to try baking. He accidentally left his baking unattended and fell asleep in the kitchen, the next thing he knew, he was inside of a burning kitchen. He got out—unharmed, but his clothes were burned— and ran into Alfred a few streets away.

Alfred laughed, "Arthur, you can't be serious!"

The other man glared at him, "Shut up old man. At least I didn't die drowning in a barrel of booze six decades ago."

"Oh, don't you dare bring that up. Also, you're way older than me."

"Oh, am I? I don't look a day over twenty."

"...Yeah, alright. Now shut up."

Arthur gave him a mischievous smirk, the older man only rolled his eyes. It was true, Alfred was already in his late 50's during that time. He could already feel his old bones creaking in protest whenever he would stand, walk or do anything. The two watched as the people of London tried to kill the flames of hell that ravaged through the city.

The fact that it had been a dry summer that year made the fire stronger, the little water the people had were thrown to pacify the flames. It was a useless feat, half of the city burned for almost a week before the flames ran out of fuel. There were casualties and a lot of property damage, and there was a shortage of water, all because Arthur fell asleep while baking bread.

Alfred invited Arthur to stay at his place for the meantime, little did he know of what was waiting for him when he got home.

"I hate you, Arthur. I hope you know that."

"Don't worry, the feelings are mutual."

The two of them stared up at the charred skeleton of Alfred's home; the fire did reach a few houses on the other side of the city.

Summer of 1701 Somewhere off the coast of Cuba, in the Atlantic ocean

"Alright! A bountiful haul, lads. " The captain of the crew cheered, his mates yelled with vigor alongside him. "Cap'n, all the ship's crew has been accounted for. Now all we 'ave to do is segregate 'em, which are goin' to be sold, and...'snuffed out'." Buck, the captain's first mate, reported. "Brilliant," his green eyes shone with malice and excitement. "Now, why don't you help out the lads over there with our reward?" he told the sailor, who immediately joined the crowd that surrounded the treasures and spices they acquired from the merchant ship they raided.

Arthur grinned as he approached the men who stood in line with their hands tied behind their back. "You lot are at the mercy of our hands, you either join my crew, get sold as slaves, or be loyal to the crown and die." He pointed his sword at the men, who whimpered under his steel gaze. However, one did not break. He had a disinterested look on his face, his blue eyes looked at Arthur with disappointment and shame. He didn't even look older than fifteen, but his eyes regarded the pirate like he had known him for years. A sudden realization hit him, "You have got to be kidding me." he muttered under his breath, the boy smiled when the pirate turned around, "It's been a while, Arthur." he greeted.

"Yes, it has been a while, Alfred." Arthur face palmed, he just had to meet him under these circumstances. "What was this boy doing on your boat?" he asked one of the men. "He's a stowaway! He isn't part of the crew, we caught him hiding with the cargo before you ransacked the ship." the man answered, fearing for his life.

"I didn't think that you'd become a pirate, Artie. You never struck me as the rebel type."

"Please, I know you have seen me doing dirty jobs back in Europe. Becoming a pirate wasn't that far off for me to do."

"Ah well, I'd really appreciate it if you can send me back home now. Mother's making my favorite dish for supper later."

Arthur sighed deeply, he did not want to deal with Alfred today. He dragged the boy by his arms, earning a yelp of protest as he was pulled away. "Consider yourselves lucky today." the pirate hissed at the captured crew, then he glared at Alfred, "Just so you know, I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this because I am not in the mood to deal with your shenanigans."

"Whatever you say, buddy."

"Shut your trap, boy."

Arthur talked a bit with his crew, many were disappointed that they were going to lose the ship they captured, but were alright when they got to keep the stuff they stole. The captured crew and Alfred were sent back to a port in the Caribbean, and Arthur refused to answer his mates' questions about why they let the boat and crew get away.

It's nothing personal, really. He's just an old friend, after all.

Early 1780 Somewhere in South Carolina

"What? What got into you that made you side with those heathen rebels?"

"I beg your pardon, what made you side with the Crown? Just a couple of years ago, you were raiding ships for goods and treasure."

"Don't. Bring. That. Up. I dare you, if you speak of those days one more time, you'll have a bayonet shoved up your—!"

"Haha, don't test me, limey!"

Arthur and Alfred bickered back and forth, in a middle of a battle field. A small number of Revolutionary soldiers and British soldiers got lost from the main fight and ended up finding each other in an open field, where they began to shoot at each other. By some amazing coincidence, Alfred was leading the Revolutionary soldiers, while on the other side, Arthur was the captain of the British platoon.

They've been shouting back and forth for half an hour, their soldiers watching in confusion behind them. Another hour passed and the soldiers were already sick of watching their captains scream each other's heads off. They pulled their captains back into their respective ranks and left the field, silently vowing to never speak of this encounter to anyone, lest they embarrass their captains.

No blood was spilled on that field that day.

August 1880 Somewhere in the American Southwest

Arthur thought that it might be a great time to visit North America, the industrial revolution was also booming in the New World so he thought that maybe checking it out won't do any harm. The last time he was there wasn't really the best time to be an Englishman in America, so he hoped that things were better this time.

He was riding a train to California at the moment, the trains here in America are a bit different to the ones he rode back in Europe. The car he was in was fairly empty, he only heard the giggling of children a few seats away and the train's engine, not too much of a distraction from his reading. He was so focused in the novel he was reading that he did not notice an old man sit in front of him.

"Hey..."

Arthur did not budge.

"Hey, psst!"

No response.

"Arthur!"

The man snapped out of his fantasy, he looked in front of him. A man in his early 70's grinned at him, he wore a top hat that matched with the crisp suit he had on, a walking cane in his hands, a thick mustache hid his lips and spectacles sat atop the bridge of his nose. Arthur would say that he didn't know the man, but when he noticed the familiar blue eyes, he knew who the man was.

"Alfred?"

The old man chuckled, "Yep, where've you been, Artie? I haven't seen you since the Revolution." Arthur blinked, "Well," he closed the book in his hands," just here and there. I've been travelling a lot these days." Alfred nodded. "What about you?" the Englishman asked," What have you been doing here in the Colonies—er, I meant America?"

"Well," Alfred thought for a bit,"I got shot in the Revolution, but was reborn shortly after. When I turned...I guess I was thirty, probably older. Anyway, I fought in the Civil War," he raised the left leg of his trouser, revealing a wooden prosthetic leg," lost a leg, but it was worth it. And now, I'm a humble business man, selling goods and stuff."

The two of them ended up talking the whole train ride. It was pleasant to catch up with an old friend, especially if they've practically known you for about a thousand years.

Fall 1944 Western Europe

"Shot down in the middle of a dog fight, dragged yourself to the nearest Allied base, and refused medical assistance, claiming that "I'm the Hero, nothing can stop me." before you promptly collapsed to the ground." Arthur read the report on his clipboard without emotion, "You know, I'd be surprised if this was someone other than you, Alfred." he told the man lying on the bed, the pilot only stayed silent as he pouted. He really wished that some other field doctor was attending to him at the moment, preferably the nurse with a pretty face a few beds away. Arthur let out a soft laugh, "I sometimes wonder if you have some sort of death wish." he began to clean the wounds on the pilot's arm. Alfred winced, but refused to talk.

"Oh come on, this isn't anything compared to the days back in the trenches. You were wilder back then."

"..."

"You're awfully quiet today, Alfred. Don't tell me your tongue got shot off."

"..."

"Well aren't you just a ray of sunshine."

Arthur fell silent as he continued to clean Alfred's wounds. He heard the pilot mumble something, "What? Can you say that again, I'm afraid I didn't hear you." he said. Alfred was a little flustered, he felt a little embarrassed asking Arthur out for drinks, especially in the situation they were in.

"Can you...maybe,um...dammit..."

"Speak up lad, all I hear is gibberish."

"Remember that one viking raid, like several centuries ago?"

"...Oh, that one where you died just as you stepped into the battlefield?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Anyway, since...since I lost that bet. Maybe...I don't know...do you wanna go out with me...I meant, do you wanna go drink with me, once all of this is over? My treat."

Arthur blinked, he had forgotten that wager between the two of them until Alfred brought it up. In all the years they have encountered each other, he couldn't remember on time where they actually just hung out like old friends, drinking their heads off, or talking casually about random topics. He did remember one time during the Great War, where Alfred shared his rations and talked with him when they were not being bombarded by the enemy. The American also saved his butt several more times that time, before ultimately sacrificing himself so that Arthur could escape from the enemy. He had been so caught up with everything that was happening at the moment, that he didn't even bother to recall the little things Alfred did for him in his past lives.

Alfred waited for the other's response, hoping that he didn't sound weird or anything. "Well, I suppose..." Arthur replied quietly, he stopped tending the pilot's wound for a moment. "Once all of this ends, we'll see."

"So, is that a yes?"

"Maybe..."

"I guess it is."

A couple of weeks later, Alfred died of blood poisoning. Arthur felt a bit bummed out because Alfred didn't get to treat him to a pub.

Spring 1970 A small town in the English Countryside

After the war, Arthur decided that he'll spend a few decades laying low. A small town in the southern part of England sounded like an excellent place to stay for a while. After settling down, he thought of ways to spend his time alone. The house he bought was isolated from the other homes, surrounded by wide field of wildflowers, a forest stretched from his backyard, and the little dirt road that passed by his home was rarely used by his neighbors. It was a perfect little paradise.

It did get a little bit lonely sometimes, he had no one to talk to. He didn't really know his neighbors that much, and the only person he could actually talk to was Alfred. He hadn't seen him since he died in the war, and—even though he might not admit it out loud—he missed him. He at least wished that they got to talk a bit longer, maybe even share a drink or two before he passed on. He didn't like thinking about Alfred, there was just something so wrong and right that Arthur felt whenever the man passed by his mind, something overwhelming blossomed in his chest. He was never really the smartest one out there, nor was he the best in identifying and expressing his emotions, so he was a little afraid of the new feeling he felt. He wanted to see Alfred, but at the same time, he didn't. It's quite confusing, but then he could fully understand it.

He was tending to his garden that afternoon, the spring had brought the best out of his roses and carnations. The sun was beating down on him, but it did not bother the Englishman. He knew how it felt to be burned alive, so a little sunshine was nothing.

"Hey!"

Arthur momentarily raised his head, he looked around and wondered if he had imagined someone calling out to him. He crouched down and continued to prune a rose bush.

"Artie! Hey!"

This time, Arthur looked at his garden fence. There, trying her best to hang on, was a girl about twenty years old. Her golden locks framed her flushed face, she wore a wide-brimmed sunhat and a pastel blue dress, and her ocean blue eyes shone with innocent happiness. The English man's face flushed, his mouth opened and closed before he could finally say out loud, "A...Alfred?"

"Yep. It's me, but I think you should call me Amelia."

"Uh-huh..."

He dropped his tools on the ground and stood up, he walked towards the girl behind the fence. "What...What are you doing here?" he asked, still trying to process everything around him.

"Well, I was just visiting the English Countryside when I ran into you. Isn't that an amazing coincidence?" she laughed, "I didn't know you lived here. Your last address was in London, back in the 1900's."

"I just...I just thought that settling down here was a great idea, after the war and all."

"Huh, not bad." Amelia soaked in the calming sunshine and environment, "It's kinda hot out here. Can I get a glass of water, and some shade? Can ya do that for an old friend, Artie?"

"Uh...yeah. Come on in." Arthur opened his garden gate and invited Amelia into his home. That day, the Englishman felt afraid for the very first time since he was cursed.

Present day Manhattan

"Are you gonna stay a bit longer?"

"Yeah, I don't think I'll catch my flight because of this bloody headache."

"Pfft, that's on you, dude. You shouldn't have drunk that much last night."

"I know, don't rub it into my face."

"It wasn't even as strong as the ones they made back in the Dark Ages." Alfred laughed. Arthur only groaned and threw a pillow at the American, "Shut up! You're making it worse." The other man only rolled his eyes, he retrieved a glass of water and placed it on the nightstand next to the bed Arthur was in. "You should drink that. I can't believe you still drink yourself silly, despite drinking the strongest mead and wine in the past." he shook his head. Nothing much happened that day, Arthur stayed in bed while Alfred spent his time in the living room, occasionally checking up on Arthur.

He watched the Englishman's sleeping form, wishing that he was brave enough to say what he had in his mind. He found himself slowly falling in love every time the two of them would meet. It all started back in the glory days of Rome, where he met Arthur in a bath house. Something about the man charmed Alfred, and he found out why later on that Arthur can't die. His situation was somewhat similar, so he was glad that he met someone who knows how boring it is being 'immortal'. Since then, he followed Arthur wherever he went. He would always find himself searching for the man, or sometimes, the world would bring him to Arthur. Then he found himself wishing to spend every life he has with the immortal man, he didn't care if what he felt was wrong, all he knew that he loved Arthur because he was him. He wished that the other man felt the same, but he was sure that Arthur only saw him as a friend.

Arthur woke up just as the sun set on the horizon, he blinked and remembered where he was. He was in Alfred's apartment in New York. The American's fragrance filled his nostrils as he breathed in the scent of his covers, his face reddened when he realized that he was in Alfred's bed. He drank the glass of water by the nightstand and popped a painkiller before heading out of the bedroom. He headed into the kitchen where he found Alfred making dinner. "Arthur, you're up. Just wait a little bit, dinner's almost ready." The American told Arthur. He felt his face warming up, he didn't know why Arthur just had to come into the kitchen half-awake with only his boxers and a half-buttoned up dress shirt. He wanted to kiss him right there and then for being too cute. The two of them ate dinner together, having small talk, and retiring for the night.

"I...it's your bed, I can just sleep on your couch. Besides, I'm not that tired yet."

"N...no, I insist. You're a guest, I can always sleep on the couch."

The two of them went back and forth, until Alfred suggested, "If...if you wanna,uh...share the bed...I...I wouldn't mind, really." he rubbed his neck nervously, he waited for Arthur to laugh and just sleep on the couch, but he received a very unexpected response.

"W...well, I...I'd love to. Just...just don't get close to me...or anything. It's...it's not really gentlemanly to refuse an offer after all." Arthur stuttered out.

In the end, they ended up sleeping on the same bed that night. The things that happened that night is a story for another time, however.

***

That one episode of Good Omens really drove me to write this fanfic. I've also spent some time in r/trippingthroughtime before writing this, so I guess that's why everything is so chaotic, and there are probably a couple of inaccuracies here and there. Also, is this late or something? I can't really identify what day it is anymore. Anyway, hope ya'll enjoyed the story.

#usuk #usukweek #aph america #aph england #fanfic #hetalia #Hello fellow astronomers

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b-e-h-o-l-d-e-r · 4 years ago

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Ghost in the Shell (2017) review

I came into this movie with an open mind. Despite every fibre of my fanboy teenage ghost rejecting this alien reincarnation. I even set aside the whitewashing criticisms to just see if the movie can achieve something significant in spite of it.

Within roughly 5 minutes, this movie assured me I was going to be treated like a lobotomised baby. I shit you not, within seconds of a beautifully rendered manufacture sequence we watch two introduced characters in a room blatantly tell us what "ghost in the shell" means in the most uninspired way imaginable.

I wish I could tell you that this was just me getting off on the wrong foot but throughout, the movie is so uncertain in how to portray the themes, symbolisms and spiritual/ religious references that make up the brain in GitS' cyberpunk action body. The script just glitches between lame exposition by talking heads and still reflection in its precise composition but the two hardly work together.

It's like the film can't find its centre and as a result is neither a compelling action sci-fi or a meditative exploration of its philosophies. If this were Aaronofsky/ Gilliam or Bay/ Snyder perhaps (for better or worse) at least this movie would have a distinct direction to go in but instead it sits in the middle and suffers at both.

Hell, I'm sure many fans would be happy if this just took the Dredd approach. If they just accepted that the fans know the backstory and the non fans don't need it and made this simply about the Section 9 anti cyber crimes team doing their job, kicking ass n taking names, it would at least have a better chance of success amongst its primary demographic.

Instead Hollywood thinks big and wants to initiate a new franchise, origin story and all, n crams so much bullshit to try and get new audiences into it that Section 9 itself gets pushed way back in the corner. Audiences spend more time getting to know the Majors mum/s than they do with any her team.

They ditch the cerebral plot of the '95 anime whereby Major Motoko Kusanagi working within Section 9 are tracking a hacker who turns out not only to be an AI secretly created by the government to assassinate political targets but has become sentient, claims asylum and ends up merging consciousness with Major Kusanagi by the end.

Here we get Major Motoko Kusanagi of Section 9, pissed that many innocent people were murdered in experiments to create her and super shitty that her entire identity was a lie and she's actually a bratty anti establishment punk.

After all is said and done, what we get is Robocop-Lite (and thats the reboot mind you). All the nuance, intrigue and head scratching ideology that we got in the shorter length '95 anime is reduced here to identity theft and yet another unremarkable corporate business villain to cover it up. We've seen this shit SO often. I'm beginning to think Hollywood just doesn't know how to do it any other way. They weren't all bad mind you, Robocop, Total Recall, The Matrix, these are all great films but GitS in its initial reception really broke the mould and here to see it put back in the cage of "been here, done that" is so incredibly disappointing.

As far as anime/manga Hollywood adaptations are concerned, the bar is INCREDIBLY low. I'd argue the only good one amongst them is Edge of Tomorrow/ Live Die Repeat. Aside from that, every otaku since the 90's is used to being made fun of in the result of America trying to morph them into something that works amongst their style of cinema. Japan has made some great adaptations partly because they don't feel the need to repackage the story.

This GitS remake tries desperately to be on the fans side by copying much of the '95 movies look (with varying degrees of success, some scenes are very accurate in their reproduction but the hair in this film is more reminiscent of X-men (2000) and seems cosplay-ish at times).

There are few scenes lifted from the original but most get twisted to accommodate the new storyline, at which point I ask why bother? Half measures don't tend to turn many heads and whilst paying homage by really making the effort to be exact duplications in some ways is applaudable, you're giving yourself less room to do your version of it. At least then, whether the film turns out to be shit or not, I'll respect that you tried to do your own thing.

ok, casting. this argument has already been done to death and I've just about run outta energy already on the whole Scarlett Johanson thing but a few things that never seem to come up: first of all, acting wise, I gotta say it's all much of a fucking muchness isn't it? Kusanagi does not outwardly express much so its mostly a headgame for an actress with the chance to throw in some subtleties in the voice acting.

I don't really like Scarlet Johansson's performances but that its preposterous for anyone to come to the conclusion that her resume would land her this gig is a bit of a stretch. Do people realise how rare it is to find an A-list celebrity that has an extensive list of both highly demanding physical action blockbusters and subtle minimalist detail performances? Of course they are going to cast her. Before anyone throws ME personally into somehow being against ethnic minorities in blockbuster films (which would be absurd for anyone who knows me) '95 GitS director Mamoru Oshii also gave his stamp of approval.

They really tried with the marketing to dodge the bullet by just not bringing it up but it's really not dealt with well in the film and leads to some pretty fucking awkward moments for a racial debate charged audience to watch.

I would have preferred the role to go to a Japanese actress but remember, this is Hollywood and if a studio is gonna push bringing THIS film out, you bet your bottom dollar that they're going with someone that is a household name in America.

The only internationally known Japanese name out there right now is Rinko Kikuchi (who to date has 2 American films out there, both not big successes). I love most of her films and there ARE a few other Japanese actresses I would love to see in the role but Hollywood studios are not gonna bank on the success of Japanese films. Hell, the fact that they put Takeshi Kitano in bit part in this movie is as far as they are willing go to get in on that market. Few seem to point at his casting as some kind of justification and I laugh quite hard. Seriously, you're gonna give this guy (who's acted AND directed in over 20 brilliant films) a few minutes of screen time and applaud that as some kind of cultural milestone?

Which brings me to the big casting shame that NO ONE is fucking talking about because they're so caught up with the Johansson shit. Aside from Kusanagi, there are 6 Japanese members of the Section 9 taskforce. How many are Japanese? Kitano, yes. Who else? Saito. Did you remember him? He's the guy that snipes the helicopter at the very end of the film. You see his face for like 10 seconds. Pretty big step in casting mulitculturally, right? Don't get me wrong, the cast IS incredibly multicultural. We got actors from all over the world pretending to be Japanese:

A Danish guy as Batou A Chinese guy as Togusa An Australian as Ishikawa A Zimbabwean as Borma

Why keep the names?! Just call them whatever, it doesn't matter. You don't give them anything important to do anyway. Have a mulit-ethnic team but when they're all speaking clearly in their national accents and supposed to be portraying Japanese characters, THAT'S what should really piss people off because THESE roles could have gone out to Japanese people and it would not have even been a risk for the studio.

Ultimately, the one real positive thing I have to say is a great job for the WETA production team on some fantastic animatronics and moulds...that's pretty much it. Shame it couldn't be in a better film.

- dug out from the depths of https://letterboxd.com/Do_oM/

#ghostintheshell #gits #moviereview #movies #anime adaptation #hollywood

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peaceisadirtyword · 6 years ago

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Shared (Modern!Ragnarssons/Reader)

A/N: Remember that writer’s block? I think it’s better now, but I'm still not able to finish the fourth part of Crush, so I followed some advices and wrote something else. I can’t promise it’s good because it’s not, but I was feeling down, I started writing and, well, here it is. I would love to write more parts some day, but only if you like it. I hope you like it though♥️

Warnings: smut, lots of smut, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, spanking, threesome... I’m going to hell. Also polyamorous relationship. And please remember I'm not very good writing smut😅

Words: 3222

gifs belong to @ivaraddict and @honestsycrets♥️

This part is mainly Ivar/Reader/Hvitserk, if you want another part with more Ubbe, tell me💜

You sighed in boredom, looking at the screen and wishing the storm outside would make the lights go off and turn off the tv.

When you agreed to spend your week of holidays at the Lothbrok's house, you expected an exciting week, not laying on the couch and eating pizza as the three brothers focused on the television. Apparently, there was an important football match and their favorite team was playing. At first, you agreed to watch it with them (though now you wished you were curled up in Ivar's bed reading one of his books). They liked football, and you were more than willing to make them happy by letting them share those things with you. At first, Hvitserk let you sit on his lap, and explained to you the details of the game in your ear, which was enough to make you interested for the first twenty minutes, until the pizza arrived and he abandoned you for a few slices of food.

Actually, you enjoyed watching the match, but you would enjoy more the attention of the three brothers that now cursed and yelled in danish sometimes, startling you.

You were even wearing a new set of lingerie that Ivar bought for you the week before. It was red, his favorite color, and you had planned to use it to thank him for helping you to write an essay.

Sighing again, you looked at Ubbe. While Ivar and Hvitserk could be a bit careless, Ubbe was like the perfect boyfriend who was always there for you, comforting you when you needed it, picking you up from uni when it was too late for you to go home by yourself, always asking if you needed something, if you were okay, if you had enough food for the week... He always paid attention to you, but that night he seemed too focused on the football, like his brothers.

Putting away the blanket, you stood up, glancing at Hvitserk one last time. He had promised he would fuck you senseless that night when you had arrived, whispering into your ear as he caressed your ass.

"I'm going to bed" you announce softly.

Ubbe and Hvitserk nodded, not even looking at you.

Ivar turned his head and his blue eyes bored into yours. You knew what that meant.

Go to mine.

It had been your first option, to be honest. You just loved Ivar's room, with his king sized bed, dark sheets and comfortable mattress, a full bookshelf, which he always renewed so you could read as many of his books as you wanted. It was your favorite bedroom ever.

And probably that meant that he wanted to join you later.

A bit more excited, you made your way into Ivar's room. Each brother had a huge room with a private bathroom inside. You had the privilege of having free access to all of them, well except Sigurd's one, empty now that he moved out with his girlfriend.

Yawning tiredly, you climbed into the bed, after picking up a book from the shelf. The sheets and pillow smelled like Ivar, which made hard for you to focus on the book.

After ten minutes, you gave up and left the book on the bedside table, pushing your head into the pillow and closing your eyes as you inhaled the smell. The pressure between your legs had been there since you stepped into the house that evening, and since no one seemed interested in taking care of it, you would have to do it yourself.

Your hand softly caressed your body. You were glad you decided to wear your favorite summer pajamas, because the temperature in the room and under the thick duvet was making you sweat already.

It didn't feel the same now. Before you met the brothers, you used to masturbate all the time, thinking no one could pleasure you as good as yourself, but they managed to prove you wrong, and now it didn't matter what you did all by yourself in the darkness of your room, it wasn't enough.

When your fingers found your clit, you bit your lip to suppress a moan. You had forgotten to close the door and they could hear you easily... And if Ivar caught you fingering yourself on his bed without his permission... Well, you'd be in trouble.

A small moan escaped your lips when you pushed two of your fingers into your dripping sex, closing your eyes as you imagined Ivar punishing you. His last punishment lasted a whole night, in which he made you cum six times until you begged him to stop, just to pass out a minute after that.

"Oh my god" you moaned, louder than you intended. Immediately, you covered your mouth. You tried not to be so fucking loud, but you just couldn't.

But your hands stopped moving and you opened your eyes, startled, when you heard someone clearing his throat on the door.

Ivar.

Gulping, you put your hand away, sitting up on the bed and looking at the door. Ivar was standing there, leaning into his crutch.

"What are you doing, little one?" he asked, the corners of his lips curving into a smirk. His eyes were dark with lust and that was enough to press your thighs together again.

"Nothing, Ivar" you blinked, trying to look innocent and "Just trying to sleep"

"Yeah" he raised his eyebrow, he didn't like it when you lied, and you knew that "Who gave you permission to finger yourself, Y/N?"

You looked away, trying to hide the excitement of hearing that low voice, the one that announced that you would have problems walking the next day.

"I didn't have permission" you admitted, biting your lip and looking at Ivar through your eyelashes as he approached the bed.

"And why did you do it?"

"Because you were busy"

His expression softened, and he pressed his lips together, nodding.

"You're right, we haven't taken care of you properly tonight" he sighed "I understand you needed it, but you know the rules, kitten" he tilted his head, and you bit your lip.

Ivar was the only one who could truly punish you. Ubbe was too caring, and too afraid of pushing your limits and hurt you, and Hvitserk was too impatient to tease you like that. Ivar seemed to know your own body and mind more than you.

"Yes Ivar" you tried to hold back a smile, but he knew you too well.

"You're not supposed to enjoy it" he raised an eyebrow.

"I don't" you promised, smiling softly when he leaned into you to kiss your lips. You kissed him back hungrily, pulling him closer yo you until he throw away his crutch and climbed onto the bed with you.

"What about the match?" You asked, gasping when his lips travelled down your neck.

"I don't fucking care about the match" he groaned.

You moaned as his hands roamed over your body, pulling at the shirt of your pajamas until you stopped him to take it off before he'd rip it apart.

His smirk widened when he saw your red lace bra, and you could swear his eyes were darker in an instant.

"Are you wearing this for me, kitten?" He whispered into your ear, his fingertips softly caressing your breasts.

The punishment was being too soft for your liking. It was more an apology than a punishment, and though you loved soft Ivar, you needed something else.

"No, actually" you smirked, looking at him on the eyes "It was for Hvitserk, but he's too busy" you pouted, pretending to be disappointed "I'm glad you like it too, though"

Ivar's smirk disappeared, and he grunted before turning you around roughly, making you lie upside down and pressing his muscular chest against your back.

"You're pushing your luck, kitten, and you don't want to angry me, do you?"

You didn't answer, too busy trying to press your ass against his already hard member.

Ivar growled, and soon your pajama shorts joined your shirt on the floor.

The red thong that matched the bra made your ass look bigger, and you actually felt sexy and confident wearing it.

Ivar moaned softly against your shoulder and his fingers traced the end of your back and the curve of your ass. Moaning again, you arched your back, reaching back to caress his hair as his lips kissed your neck again. You were sure you'd have a mark the next day.

Ivar took your wrists roughly, pressing them together over your head.

"You don't deserve to touch for now, kitten" he bit your earlobe "Punishment, remember?"

You moaned softly in protest, but didn't fight as he gripped your wrists together.

Ivar didn't waste any time to put aside your underwear, his fingers finding your clit easily and pressing onto it. He moved his hands to caress between your folds.

"It's not Hvitserk who made you this wet, is it?" He growled.

It didn't matter how you moved your hips, trying to end his constant teasing, Ivar didn't push his fingers into you, and continued pressing on your clit.

"Ivar" you whined, moving your hips against his "Ivar please"

"What?" He was smirking. Of course he was smirking "Tell me, what do you want?"

"Please, your fingers..." You moaned when he pushed one of his fingers inside you, immediately taking it out "Fuck, Ivar!" You frowned.

"Yes?" He bit on your neck, and left you trembling under him.

"Fuck me" you begged "With your fingers"

"I don't know if you deserve that yet"

"Please, Iva..."

He pushed your fingers into you, hitting that exact spot that made you almost scream, pushing your face into the pillow.

Ivar was an expert with his fingers, he managed to make you scream with only two fingers, he knew exactly how to curl them to hit that spot...

You noticed that familiar warmth building up on your lower belly, and your body tensed, readying itself for the intense orgasm.

But Ivar noticed. He always knew, even before your walls started clenching around his fingers, he knew. Your moans were louder and you moved faster. He added another finger, which made you scream his name.

But then he just put his hand away.

"Ivar!" You protested, your legs trembling.

"You don't deserve to cum" he grunted, his fingers caressing your ass, spreading your juices all over your skin "You haven't been a good girl tonight, kitten"

You knew what was going to happen when he put his hand away from your ass.

The first one didn't hurt. Ivar pushed your limits, and though he was rough, he would never hurt you. When he spanked you, he did it because he knew what it did to you, and he loved to see your soft skin reddened.

You moaned again, and again, every time his hand collided with your ass, it sent a wave of pleasure directly to your core.

"Have you learnt your lesson?" He whispered softly, now caressing your flushed and hot skin.

"Yes, Ivar" you muttered, closing your eyes at the feeling of his lips against your cheek.

But I'll do it again tomorrow.

"Good girl" he smirked, knowing it wouldn't be the last time. "I suppose you deserve to cum now... But not on my fingers"

You bit your lip and moved your hips in anticipation as he turned you around again, making you face him. You tugged at his t-shirt until he took it off, and leaned in to bit your lip roughly.

He pushed his trousers down to the middle of his thighs, just breaking the kiss to reach his bedside table and take out a condom from the drawer.

You didn't waste any more time, pawing eagerly to touch his hardened cock.

"Fuck, Y/N" he moaned, pressing his head into the crook of your neck as you took his cock in your hand, moving it up and down, when he raised his head, he saw you, looking at him with swollen lips and doe eyes "Stop or I'll cum now" he grunted, pushing your hand away before taking out the condom and putting it on.

He pressed the head of his member against your wet entrance, pressing his forehead against yours and pushing his hips into yours and smirking when he saw your facial expression, your parting lips and your closed eyes.

"You're so fucking sexy, kitten" he moaned against your lips "And you take my cock so well... Fuck you're so wet and tight, you'll be the death of me woman" he growled, moving his hips even faster.

You moaned his name, loud and clear, and Ivar rewarded you with an extra-hard thrust.

It wasn't long until you came, screaming Ivar's name, your walls clenching around his cock and your legs around his waist. Your nails scratching his bare back.

Ivar cursed and groaned before his thrusts became sloppy and he moaned your name, coming just after you.

Your lips joined in another kiss, this time slower and softer.

"You're amazing" he whispered, kissing your cheek before laying down on his back, by your side.

When Ivar's body rolled off you, you gasped, startled while seeing someone on the doorstep, watching you with a small smile.

"It looks like you're having a good time"

"Hvitserk" you whined "You scared me"

Hvitserk smiled, approaching the bed quickly. Ivar looked at his older brother with an eyebrow raised.

"Wow, princess, you look beautiful" Hvitserk licked his lips, looking at your body, only covered by your underwear that Ivar hadn't bothered to take off.

You smiled widely and kneeled on the bed, leaning in to hug him and kiss his lips softly.

"Thank you" you smiled "Ivar bought it for me"

"Good choice, brother" his hands roamed over your body "Did Ivar let you too tired, princess? Or can you take one more?" He asked, muttering into your ear while his hands caressed your waist.

"Ivar only let me cum once" you pouted, feeling Ivar's glare.

Hvitserk frowned, looking at his little brother, who was laying down with his hands under his head.

"It was her punishment" he shrugged "I found her touching herself in my bed"

Hvitserk chuckled.

"It didn't sound like a punishment, to be honest, but I'm sure she deserves a reward, doesn't she?"

"She does" Ivar agreed and you smiled widely at him "Do your best, brother"

Hvitserk's eyes darkened and his playful smile turned to a darker one. You were already shaking in excitement and anticipation, wet and ready.

Hvitserk pushed you back to the mattress, taking his shirt off and kicking his pants and boxers down.

"I love this new set, love, but I prefer to see all of you" he softly took off your thong, and you sit up a bit to take off your bra, exposing your breasts.

You heard Ivar next to you, cursing in danish. His hand took his member, which was already hard.

Hvitserk hummed, smirking as his lips captured yours in a heated kiss. You knew what he was going to do when he started kissing down your neck and collarbone, between your breasts and down your belly and stopped just before your dripping sex. He caressed your thighs and pressed his lips just next to your clit, making you gasp and gulp in excitement.

When his lips touched your clit, you moaned loudly, closing your eyes and throwing your head back. Your hands found Hvitserk's hair and you moved your hips against his mouth, moaning. He smirked against your sex and put a hand over your hips to make you stay still.

You felt Ivar approaching you, and suddenly his mouth was on your right breast, while his hand covered your left one. He took your hardened nipple between his teeth, and you hissed and moaned even louder.

The brothers chuckled, enjoying the sounds you made.

While Ivar could make you scream only with his fingers Hvitserk could send you to heaven and back with his skilled tongue.

And you were lucky enough to enjoy both of them.

You came again on Hvitserk's mouth, and he licked you clean until you moved away from his tongue, too sensitive.

"On your hands and knees" Ivar whispered "Come on, kitten"

You obeyed, and Hvitserk caressed the curve of your ass as you positioned yourself, feeling the head of his cock pressing into your sex.

Ivar was just in front of you, pushing your hair out of your face and kissing your lips softly. But he broke the kiss just before Hvitserk thrusted into you.

"Hvitserk" he scoffed, leaning to his side to grab another condom from his bedside table.

You were on the pill, but both Ubbe and Ivar always insisted on using condom, just in case. Hvitserk, though, wasn't that careful, and you often forgot, so you both had a few tense days whenever your period was late.

Hvitserk sighed, opening the package and putting the condom on. Ivar watched his movements as he thrusted into you, and his eyes flicked to your face when he heard you little moan, that one which almost made him cum for the second time.

Hvitserk moaned and gripped your waist, but you didn't have much time to moan his name, as Ivar softly cupped your face and guided you to his member. Your mouth watered when you saw his hardened cock just before you.

You took it with one hand, softly massaging it and liking your lips before kissing the head of his cock softly, then licking all his length and finally taking it in your mouth, trying to relax your throat to take all you could. Ivar hissed and his hand tangled into your head, pushing your head down.

"Fuck kitten" you heard him, and moaned, clenching your walls around Hvitserk. He hissed and gripped your hips tighter.

When you came for the third time that night, you dragged both of them with you. Hvitserk moaned your name and Ivar sighed, throwing his head back and cursing in danish.

You lied down, moaning tiredly when Hvitserk kissed your back softly.

"You did so well, kitten" Ivar kissed your forehead, letting you rest your head onto the pillow.

"Hvitserk" Ubbe was on the doorstep, smiling softly "Come on, go to sleep and let her rest, she sleeps with Ivar tonight"

Ubbe had taken you to two dates that week, and Hvitserk picked you up from work a few times, you only spent a couple of hours with Ivar, and you missed him.

You covered yourself with the duvet, yawning.

"Ivar let her sleep, okay?" Ubbe smiled softly to his little brother and approached the bed, kissing your cheek lovingly "Wake me up tomorrow and I'll make pancakes for breakfast, okay?"

You smiled back at him, while Hvitserk winked at you from the door.

"See you tomorrow princess"

When Ubbe closed the door behind him, Ivar lied down next to you, and took you into his arms. You weren't used to his soft side, the side that cuddled you to sleep.

"Get some sleep" he muttered, caressing your hair softly. You closed your eyes, smiling softly.

Just before you fell asleep, you could swear he whispered something else.

"I love you, kitten"

It seemed that the holidays were starting well.

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @ivarslittlebadgirl @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @thevikingsheaux @therealcalicali @chimera4plums @blushingskywalker @awkwardfangirl02 @anarchy-is-coming @gruffle1 @justacripple @love-dria @heartbeats-wildly @letsrunawaytotomorrow @sallylebecks @hellogabysblog @trashcanx @winchesterwife27

Sorry if I forgot someone!😰 if I did please tell me.

I hope you liked it💕 part 2 with a bit of Ubbe and breakfast?😈

#vikings #vikings imagine #ivar imagine #hvitserk imagine #ubbe imagine #ivar x reader #hvitserk x reader #ubbe x reader #modern vikings #polyamory #vikings smut #ivar smut #hvitserk smut

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xavantina · 6 years ago

Text

I got my hands on a copy of the new Euroman for @idontfindyouthatinteresting, and I took the opportunity to translate some of the interview as well. I tried scanning the article, but my scanner is broken, so you’ll have to make due with iPhone pics of the photos until someone with a working scanner gets in the game.

Rest of the photos and the interview under the cut.

The interview itself was a monster of a thing with lots and lots of flowery descriptions of random scenery, so I cut it down to just the questions, though a few highlights of the rest include:

When he was knighted the Queen of Denmark told him she liked Flame and Citron and he was like ‘fuck yeah’.

He rolls up with his classic bedroom eyes, mismatched tracksuit, and worn sneakers, and just needs a smoke before they go in.

The reporter thinks it’s pointless for a hairdresser to style Mads’ hair because it’s amazing already.

Mads goes around introducing himself to everyone in the room with “Hi. My name is Mads.”

He speaks very fast in Danish.

Onward with the questions:

Q. You were an unknown dancer for ten years before you became an actor. In terms of staying grounded, has it been an advantage for you that you had your breakthrough at such a mature age?

A. Yes, I think so. I probably wouldn’t have had problems staying grounded even if I had been 20 years old. But I think it’s harder for a 17-year-old today, where you can have your breakthrough on a whole different platform and gain three million followers, or whatever the hell they have. It’s obvious that if everyone thinks you’re cool, and you’re told so a bit too often, then you start thinking ‘yeah, I am. I’m cool’. It’s easier to handle being recognized in the street when you’re 32, than when you’re 17. I think.

Q. Your James Bond co-star Jesper Christensen has said that he can no longer enter a public space and just sit there observing, because everyone is always staring at him. He can no longer gain inspiration for his work from real life– from ‘ordinary people’ – like he used to. Do you feel the same way?

A. It’s a terrible loss. It’s not that I’ve always been preparing to be an actor, but I’ve always been curious. Even as a child, I would sit in different places and watch what was happening over there, human behavior, the way they looked and the way they walked. Always. And too often I started copying people when I saw them. I would sit just like them for a while, just to try how it felt. That’s over now. Whenever I’m out somewhere, 50 people are sitting around staring at me. Then I have to worry about scratching my nose, and there’s 40 camera phones in my face. Then I have to go to a different country.

Q. Don’t you get recognised abroad?

A. They know me around the world to various degrees. There are definitely many places where they don’t care at all, but James Bond, Star Wars, and Marvel movies, all of which I’ve starred in, have a great reach. The happy result of this is that people become curious about me as an actor, so I’m often stopped abroad because people know me from The Green Butchers or The Hunt. That’s super cool.

Q. Is it important for you to get recognition in the business? And do you?

A. A foreign colleague whom I have great respect for told me that he and three friends would sit down and watch the Pusher trilogy every weekend. That made me happy. Recognition from colleagues is important. Recognition from yourself is just much more important. You can get into a cycle where you go around constantly patting each other on the back because you need it so badly in my line of work. We’re judged all the time. It’s really hard, and so we probably have a tendency to praise each other more than we should. You should be happy when other people think what you’re doing is great, but you need to remember to consider what you think about it personally. ‘Was this what I wanted? Yes, okay, fine. Next time I might go in this direction instead.’ That’s important. And it’s the same if what people are saying about you sucks. There are many opinions out there. And if you start reading on social media you’ll never get to bed. You should stay away from that.

Q. Where do you find material and inspiration when you can’t go people-watching anymore? Do you have a memory bank you draw from?

A. Probably. I can also sit and watch people on screen, television and so on. But inspiration should primarily come from the script and the director. But I really miss sitting around and watching other people, and I certainly miss them not staring at me. I don’t try to hide though, I never wear a cap or anything. Sunglasses annoy the hell out of me, so I don’t use those at all. Luckily I‘m forgetful: I walk outside in the morning and don’t spend a second wondering how it’s going to be when I arrive somewhere – whether I’ll be recognized, I mean. That’s not just something I’m saying. I get in my car and drive somewhere and enter wherever I’m going, and don’t think about it at all. It’s not until people do this (Mads widens his eyes and turns his head) and do a double check that I’m reminded what it’s like. And that’s good, because otherwise I’d never leave the house.

Q. But you haven’t always been famous – in Hollywood you were a total unknown in the beginning. As the unknown from a small country did you have to work to earn the respect from people around you when you did your first foreign films?

A. I never consciously considered that I had to do something to make them listen to me. If I thought something could be done differently, I haven’t been afraid of going up to people and telling them. Obviously it’s not like it is in Denmark where I can just call Thomas Vinterberg up and say ‘hey, I just had an idea, won’t you come over?’ A Hollywood director on a big movie has maybe 30 actors on his list and everybody wants something from him, so the scale is different. But I still speak up, if there’s something wrong, and only if I’m serious about it. If I’m not serious about it, we just start working on whatever we’re doing.

Q. Are you treated differently on set now that you’re a bigger star?

A. Yes. I was very surprised with first time I was part of a large foreign production. We were on set, and I approached someone from the light-crew to ask about something. Then he looked down at the ground and didn’t answer. Turns out there had been this big name actor, whose name I can’t be bothered to mention, who had just done a movie with this crew, and the crew was under strict orders to never look this actor in the eyes. So there I was, a product of all this. Those were the kind of things I had to get used to. Luckily I found out that if I just focused on my work in the same way I usually did my surroundings would relax pretty quickly. They care more about things abroad than they do in Denmark. I’ve had some pretty weird experiences on foreign jobs. For example, I’m often assigned a so-called handler. Someone who meets me at the airport and helps with checking in and stuff like that. Which is fine, if you’re in Beijing and your have no idea where you’re going. But on foreign gigs I’ve also tried being a assigned a handler at Copenhagen Airport, who is supposed to follow me and help me. That’s pretty absurd, since I’ve checked in 2000 times before in Copenhagen and know how to do it. A handler is always dressed really nicely too, so everybody at the airport ends up staring at me even more. That’s a weird service.

Q. How about the treatment you receive from the other stars, or the business as a whole? How do you experience the hierarchy in Hollywood?

A. When I worked with Benedict Cumberbatch in Doctor Strange and with Daniel Craig in Casino Royale it was their first big films as well, so the hierarchy wasn’t crazy. I’ve been spared from meeting someone abroad who was a real hot shot or just tired of doing what they were doing. There are plenty of people with attitude, plenty of large personalities, but I’ve met very few proper divas who are impossible to work with. The few I have met have been here at home. It’s actually a myth, that this is a diva business. If you did an inquiry and compared us to bus drivers or doctors for example, I think actors would rate much lower than them on the diva-scale. We’re very conscious about not behaving like divas, so everyone tries to act natural. Nobody wants to be branded like that. And when one finally comes along, which obviously happens, then it’s so exciting, and it sounds like the whole business is infected with them. But holy shit, man, how many little kings in their little kingdoms have you met driving the 8 Line?

Q. Your generation, which had its breakthrough 20-25 years ago, has taken up a lot of space back here at home and internationally. You’ve become…

A. You can say ‘old’. We’ve gotten bloody old.

Q. Has it only now become clear how much space you take up?

A. No. I think it was obvious from the beginning. We were a generation that grew up with a big fascination for certain foreign films. Many of us had Martin Scorsese and Francis Ford Coppola in common. There weren’t’ many Danish films we could relate to. [here follows a whole bit about Danish movie history that no one outside Denmark will care about, so I’m skipping it] We felt like we were living in the 50’s. We were watching foreign movies like ‘Taxi Driver’ and saying to each other ‘is this from 1975?’ What have we done in Denmark this year? It was crazy. Completely crazy. Obviously something had to be done. And it was. We grew in different directions but suddenly the gap wasn’t so wide… I mean, we were no longer being told what it was like to be a teenager by an 88 year old director. We were the same age and we communicated directly. Just like Scorsese and De Niro in the 70’s. Same age, let’s go, rock’n’roll. Obviously it’s hard for the next generation, who comes after us, to just change things as well. Because we did the right thing. So now they either have to copy that approach, or improve it, or come up with something completely new. It was easier for us, if I’m being honest. We said ‘Hey, have you seen this before?’ and people went ‘No, we haven’t. Cool!’ But we had to do it. And we were allowed to do it, first and foremost. Some things went wrong, some things went right. But it was really important.

Q. You and your brother both seem like you’re very down to earth. Is that a result of growing up on Nørrebro?

A. Yes, I guess. No… Where the fuck did Pilou (Asbæk) grow up? He has some higher ‘a’s than I do, when he taaaaalks. But he’s damn well down to earth too. So I think it’s a Danish thing. If you try to rise a bit above other people, it won’t be very long until you’re pulled back down.

Q. Have you tried it?

A. No. As a Danish person it’s very hard to demand only to be served the yellow M&Ms without people laughing at you.

Q. Can’t it be limiting, that we’re like that? That everything has to be so down to earth.

Pause.

A. It’s funny, because we’re different than the Swedish. They have a whole different way of engaging with their stars. The Swedish are down to earth too. But when Swedish actors sit down to talk like this, like I’m doing now, and a journalist enters the room, that they start (Mads straightens and adopt a somber tone) speaking like this. And the things they say become great philosophy. They also start to move (he waves his arm theatrically) like they were on stage at the Royal Theatre. When I see that I think ‘what the fuck just happened?’. The Swedish write with great reverence about their stars as well. They have a huge amount of respect for what they give us. Swedish stars have a whole different status in society than we do in Denmark. They like putting things up on a pedestal, and they’re allowed to do that in a totally different way then we are. You can’t do that here. And thank God for that. But you can also say, that in Denmark you don’t always respect people for what they can do. Sometimes people will go ‘Fuck man, I can do what Caroline Wozniacki does. She’s the worst I’ve ever seen.’ Okay? I mean, it’s nice that we’re down to earth in Denmark. But it’s grotesque to say that ‘What Wozniacki does, I can do just as well.’

So that’s how I spent the last five hours of my life...

#Mads Mikkelsen #translation

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nowitsdarkfic · 5 years ago

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chapter seventeen (bleached nirvana underpants)

December 20, 1988. Belltown, Washington.

The hotel Lars and the girls had helped me pick out is a long low inn in the shape of an “L”, with a slanted black roof and a wrap around black screen on the outside walls on one side. It's probably the one thing here in the central part of the city that actually has some life to it with a few people congregated near the big screen. As the seven of us are stepping into the front lobby for the five of us guys to check in for the night, I catch a glimpse of the words “Maxwell Industries” imprinted on the edge of the screen.

I knew it. I'm getting closer. At least I hope I am.

I'm not really up for another round of hockey after what happened earlier. I think it might have to do with the fact that we participated in that right after we got off the plane, but I can't really say for sure. We surely had our work cut out for us against a bunch of cyborgs.

Lars, Spence, and I are sharing a room right across the parking lot, which means Lars and I are probably going to have to sleep head to toe again tonight. I just hope I don't kick him in the head again because I need him to be well rested so we can do a little snooping around here in the heart of downtown. This band Nirvana, the one that's playing down the road from us in Hoquiam, is a good reason to stay here for a couple of days before Christmas. I'm looking forward to seeing them as well as roaming about the streets of downtown Seattle in order to figure some things out. I wonder if we'll run into Nancy and Dominique at some point as I unlock the door of our room.

It's a small room with two queen sized beds and a rickety looking nightstand right in between them. Right across the room is a walk-in closet and the bathroom. To my left stands the dresser which holds the TV and a little coffee maker with a bunch of paper cups. Reminds me of all the rooms I stayed in with Anthrax.

The four of us amble into the room and set down our things, but before I can take off my coat and my shirt, Spence already has me beat, peeling off his shirt and ducking into the bathroom for a shower with his shampoo in hand.

“Damn it!” I blurt out and he bursts out laughing. Meanwhile, on the first bed right next to me, Lars groans in pain as he sinks down right on the edge: he's gripping onto his cane like it's about to get away from him.

“Are you alright?” I ask him in a kind voice.

“In pain. Horrible pain. God, it hurts so bad.”

“Do you want me to get you something?”

“No, no. It's fine.”

“No. Dude—” I'm interrupted by Spence muttering “ah, man” to himself, and the sound of his voice is then followed by the loud whistle of the shower head in the bathroom.

“Jesus,” I say aloud, and then I return my attention to Lars. “Anyways, it looks like a part of your body is about to explode, dude. I'm gonna get you something for the pain.”

“No, Joey. Please. No.”

“Lars,” I say to him.

“I just have to—God, I don't even know—”

“Lars!”

He quips something to me in words that don't sound English.

“I don't speak freaky weaky Danish,” I scoff at him.

“I made up the whole thing about Dominique calling everyone you knew after the accident,” he confesses in a single breath.

“What?”

“I made the whole thing up!”

“What—” I run both my hands through my hair. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I was under the influence of a ton of morphine then, alright?”

“That doesn't explain that, though! Or justify it for that matter!”

“I made it up because I didn't want you to worry about anything. Dominique left the scene after we were taken to the hospital so she had nothing to do with it. She probably thinks we're just now getting out of it. I only did it because it's bad enough that you and I are uncovering things about Maya together and my marriage and your best friend are both already on the line as a result of it—like you need to worry about your parents worrying about what happened to you. You got the least worst of it anyways.”

“I still could've been killed, though, Lars,” I curtly point out to him. “I hit my head, for crying out loud!”

“Yes, but you're alive, aren't you? It was a narrow escape and I knew that was the case when I awoke in the hospital bed and I saw you laying next to me. I got the worst of it and all I could think was 'holy hell, that was a close one.' I was injected with loads of morphine and even under the veil of the fog, it allowed me to think about things a little more, about what happened and what's happening at the moment. It was kind of like thinking about things while you're still half asleep and you let every single thought through, and that was one of the things I thought of and I would have to tell you when you woke up. Yes, it was completely a dick move on my part and for that, I apologize. Sincerely. But you have to understand, Joey, that if you and I are going to be involved in this mystery together, we need to care for each other and I knew you were going to worry about your parents and what they might think. Speaking as the guy who got the worst of the accident and was loaded with morphine directly afterwards.”

I shake my head at him. I have no idea what to think right now.

“Joey, listen to me—” He stands up only for his face to twist in pain. He clutches at his bad knee and almost falls onto the floor. “—listen. I know for a fact you love your parents, and they love you back. Even in my opiate laden state, I remembered that they love you more than anything in the world. So the last thing they need to hear is—their little boy was in a car accident in the big—” He grimaces. “—the big stinking city.”

He groans and collapses onto his back right on the bed. I stand there before him with my hands pressed to my hips and the annoyed feeling still residing within me.

“Could you—walk into this neighborhood here and get me some ibuprofen or something?” he stammers out.

“Can I take a shower first?” I demand to him, chewing on my bottom lip.

“I don't know if I can take another second of it,” he confesses. “You still have the twenty dollars I gave you before we flew out here on you?”

“In my pocket.” I let out an exasperated sigh. “Alright, fine. I'll be right back.”

I close my coat and return back outside to the low hanging fog and the raw, heavy feeling of beckoning snow. I never would think a place like Seattle would experience snow, but if anything like everything that's happened to this point is possible, that might be possible, too.

Even though I have my leather gloves back on, I've got my hands in my coat pockets as I head on down the cold hard sidewalk to the corner. I wonder what else is being hidden from me as I reach the corner and glance about the block. The cold wind is blowing through my black hair which is still damp from sweating: I close my coat even more to keep the chill at bay. I peer up at all the buildings here in this part of town, all of them looking almost identical with their black slate walls and their flickering blue neon lights on the sides. There is a little orange and yellow hut looking place right up the block from me with a sign out front reading “Mama's Mexican Kitchen.”

But the street before me is stretching onward into the heart of downtown. The whole thing is tempting, but I can't do it just yet.

Lars is in pain and I need to get him something. If only there's a drug store around here somewhere.

There's a dumpster on the corner right in front of me. I wonder if Maya camped out there while she was here. Who knows and who knows if I'll ever know.

But after looking both ways, I head on over to the other side of the street to meet up with the dumpster and the first thing that catches my eye is a small pile of empty orange pill bottles, complete with the white lids.

No, I can't do that to Lars. He even said morphine made him do it.

But as I'm moseying on closer to the pile and I crouch down for a better look at them, I notice the faint glimmers of blue neon inside one of the bottles. The label on another one facing me reads “cybernetic serum: the pain medicine of tomorrow. use only with caution and for the most intense of injuries. take only orally with water. copyright morlente medicine, a division of maxwell industries.”

Hmm.

Morlente Medicine? As in Maya's foster parents? It's also a division of Maxwell Industries, but at the same time, I also don't know where the nearest drugstore is and poor Lars is in agony. I pick up the one on the top to better examine the stuff that's inside. It's like black ink with pieces of blue glitter mixed into it. At least it's not toxic.

I take it back with me to the hotel, although I'm not sure how this will fare for either of us, especially Lars. I return to the room to find Spence with no shirt on and a towel on his head, and Lars himself still laying on the bed. I swipe one of the little paper cups next to the coffee maker and take it into the tiny cramped bathroom to fill it with water. Carefully, I unscrew the lid from the bottle. It in fact smells like ink; and I drip two drops into the water where they dissolve and disappear at the snap of my fingers.

I take it back to Lars for him to drink it up.

“It's already dissolved,” I explain to him when he shows me a baffled look. He then nods and drinks down the whole cup of water. Breathing hard, his face twists into a smile which accentuates his little cheekbones.

“Better?” I ask him.

“Yes. Amazingly, yes. My knee doesn't hurt at all anymore.”

“Okay. You guys need me I'm gonna be in the shower.”

****************************************

The next day, the first day of winter and the day the sky was almost pitch black as a result, Marcia and Sonia meet us outside of the hotel from the little trip down to Hoquiam, which is right outside of another little town of Aberdeen, which is where Nirvana hails from. As we're leaving Seattle and headed on southward, the neon lights glare at me in the rear view mirrors. Maybe it was just an unfortunate side effect down in New Orleans, like maybe it was just nothing more a coincidence the banana slugs and the spiders got so big, but I had nothing more than doubts about all the neon and all the seemingly heavy machinery arising here in the cozy pocket of Washington. Lars is as chirpy as ever, given he walked to the car practically dancing with his cane in hand. I still want a stroll around the heart of downtown before we're done here, though.

Sonia, who's driving, takes the next exit off to Aberdeen, which will take us to Hoquiam. Such a small, backwoods little town, like Oswego if it didn't have such a tightly woven community surrounding the dingy parts and the power plant. Everything is gray, such that it sends a chill up my spine upon seeing it.

But even as we get out of the car in the gravel parking lot, I turn my head to look at the blue and green glow against the dark sky from the city to the north of us. I had my doubts but I'll admit that that's kind of creepy, the otherwise natural darkness of the Pacific Northwest bathed in manmade light. Something about that…

“Joey!” Sonia interrupts my train of thought. I turn to see her gesturing for me to follow them into this ramshackle white warehouse with a partially collapsed roof. And it takes me a minute to realize we're in a bar given there are still taps coming out of the walls. Even with a crowd in here, the whole place smells of mildew and stale beer. Reminds me of my cover bands.

Within moments, the band emerges on their shabby little stage: the drummer with his thin long dark hair taking his seat behind the tiny kit, the gangly looking bassist with his fine dark hair and heavy raincoat, and then there was the guitarist with his long blond hair partially covering his face, wrapped faded plaid sweater, and holding a shabby guitar in hand. The neck of his guitar is switched over sides: he's a leftie.

“Just a three piece?” I ask Sonia.

“Just a three piece.”

“Hello, everyone,” the bassist greets us through his tiny microphone. “We are Nirvana and I want to say that we're in the midst of making an album at the moment.”

Some people in front of us cheer out: I notice two people near the front beginning to mosh. Such energy for such a little venue, my God.

“This whole place stinks!” the bassist continues, wagging his finger. “It needs some bleach!”

The guitarist joins in from his right.

“I think 'oh, oh, oh' means 'shut up, Krist,'” he retorts to him, and that coaxes a laugh out of me.

“This song is about a girl,” he announces to us.

Oh.

My.

God.

The grungest grunge that ever grunged right here. It's like a fuzzy Beatles song. Soundgarden has “Flower”, and they have this song. It must be a coincidence.

I'm just totally guessing but it's like Seattle is trying to give me a sign. A sign that I need to do a little more to help Maya.

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kurenafujio · 5 years ago

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An Example of why I don’t debate much in my comment sections on YT/Tumblr/FB/ETC. (It’s Endless) | TLDR at the End

@omg-whydidimakethisaccount

"You do know that racist people did the same thing for Black Panther right? “Innocent people are getting called racist for no reason because they didn’t like the movie!” For a while people believed it, including me. Then as time passes a lot of people started realizing that people were claiming this happened.....but no one actually sees it. And while I’m sure a few people have, the fact of the matter is that racists spread the rhetoric for a reason"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EhKFv92JGqM

All throughout the comment section you see people saying “I’m black and I don’t want Ariel to change.” And black people are complaining all over the internet about it being racial pandering. Which-it-is. You just aren’t looking for it. Have you never heard of the phrase that the dumbest people are the loudest? Of course you’ll run across racists. They’re the loudest of them all. But they’re not the only ones who are upset and it isn’t “just a few.” That’s just your confirmation bias. “For a while people believed it, including me.” You think that you woke up to some new epiphany but you’re just viewing everything in extremes.

"It’s quite similar to conservatives labeling everything “sjw”. In hopes to make people’s points valid, we label them as names such as sjws or snowflakes."

You’re using the same tactics by labeling everyone racist who disagrees. Just because racist people have an issue with something doesn’t mean that everyone who has an issue with it are racists. How tf can you be mad that people exploit the phrase “sjw” when you are exploiting the word racists for the SAME REASON.

"And that’s what people did for Black Panther. The racists were very vague on what their comments were but they spread this agenda that people are being called racist left and right. That people are hunting down poor souls stating an opinion and harassing them. This of course wasn’t the case, but the power of the internet sure made it seem so. But like I said, smart people started noticing that this was not the case."

This isn’t the same as Black Panther. He is a real superhero who was originally black and his movie was very cultural. So it brought up controversy and there was a lot of racism involved. However, Ariel is a Disney character who already has a character design that people love and have been drawing for decades. Black people (yes BLACK PEOPLE) have made themselves clear. They want new original characters to represent them. Not to have their skin tone slapped on a white character for pandering and re-branding purposes only.

"And this is the case for pretty much any movie that causes stir due to race such as this. Now I’ve been on a lot of social media platforms. Reddit, tumblr, YouTube comments, twitter, etc etc. I barely see people refer a person that doesn’t like the casting a racist......w/o reason. Racists spread the lies for Black Panther because they knew they would be called out for their racists comments so they hoped that referring people who called them out as “sjws” would somehow stray away from that fact"

“w/o reason” is vague. I’m not going to take your word for it that their reasons are good because you’re the same person who said that only a few people are black and or genuinely just don’t want her character to change which is clearly false. Which I have already explained. And again with the Black Panther. Just because you didn’t see those comments for what they were during THAT particular movie, doesn’t mean that every movie that has a black character will only get criticism from racists. You have no sense nuance.

"And sadly that is going on with Halle Bailey. My friends were accused of being “sjws” for simply calling out a racist who didn’t like Black Ariel. Like I said my black friends also don’t like her but they aren’t being racist they just don’t like the actress. However when they called out an actual racist that reposted a “sea monkey” post in response to Halle’s castings they were harassed for calling a person racist over a “joke”

Your situation with your friends is just confirmation bias. That doesn’t speak for all situations. Hence me linking you the video that I sent you. Also the seamonkey thing is clearly a racist joke but that has nothing to do with my original point. You literally just said you know people who genuinely don’t want her to be black and are black themselves. But instead of being nuanced and thinking, “Oh, some people are racists and some just don’t want her to change” you take away from it, “most are racists and very few don’t want her to change.” It’s ridiculous. You’re not being objective. And why does someone have to be black to not want her to change without being racist? That’s a bigoted way of thinking within itself. 'If you’re white and you don’t like her, you’re probably racist.' No.

"Some people didn’t even know what was happening. They just saw “innocent person gets harassed because they stated an opinion” and started harassing my friends too. And like that, the Black Panther fiasco cycles it’s way back to the internet"

This isn’t the same as the Black Panther incident.

“I get it. You are a proud person. You want everyone to have a chance to state their opinion. Sad thing is, that’s not the problem here. There’s a bunch of actual racists convincing people that they should be upset over this when in reality it’s a damn movie. And sadly people fall for it. I used to be one of these people. When Scarlet Johansson plays Asian characters I followed the crowd saying “she’s a good actress, the character is an android anyways, who cares!?!?”

No? You clearly didn’t even watch my video. I stated several times then and now that I KNOW that SOME people are racist who feel that way. However, you have NO RIGHT to label EVERYONE “most likely racist” for not wanting Ariel to be black. That is a hive minded way of thinking, you can’t compare this to Black Panther because the complaints are completely different, and the point that I originally made in my video is that people are not nuanced. You are thinking in black and white. Just because I am willing to acknowledge that a LOT of people just genuinely don’t want her to change and aren’t racist doesn’t mean that I am saying that NO ONE or MANY PEOPLE aren’t racist who feel that way. I’m saying its a mixed bag of opinions and not to lump every stranger who complains about it into one big group. How the hell can you complain about people labeling everyone sjws for a conservative agenda but at the same time you are labeling everyone who isn’t black, who doesn’t like this casting choice “most likely racist.” It’s not objective at all and you aren’t any smarter from the Black Panther incident by doing this. You don’t even realize that your mistake in both of these cases is that you looked at the responses in black or white. Either ALL/MOST complaints are racist or ALL/MOST complaints are not. That is a horrible way to discern the truth of any situation. And that mentality is exactly what I was ranting about in my video.

"But then to see the same people who I’ve sided with on the Ghost of the Shell debate all of a sudden throw a fit when a Black person is casted as Ariel? I realized there is something wrong. I didn’t accuse them of being racist. Because then I would’ve been racist. So I asked myself, why are people so weird about this sort of stuff? It’s cause our society was racist from the start. We value white skills, and we can make them take over any minority movie."

“The same people.” Who are these people? Again you are lumping everyone together. It’s so ridiculous.

"But when a minority takes a traditionally “white” role even though it’s not exclusive, all hell breaks lose. I don’t find all NotMyAriel logic racist.....but a lot of them come from racist rhetorics. When you go down to their core, they are very simple in logic. And the reason they are simple is because the racists spurred out the nonsense first. People just don’t realize it"

Not only is your own logic very simple minded but you aren’t even familiar with the term “Racebending Redheads” Which has been a trend lately. For some reason redheads are just raceless as characters and can just be swapped out with a black person. They keep doing it in movies and redheads are also complaining about this more and more. There are a lot of redheads who have an issue with Ariel’s new casting choice and rightfully so.

“ I mean do you know how many “What if we made Pocahontas white” I’ve seen? Or “What about Danish culture and redhead representation?!?:” all of which Danish people and redheads don’t give a damn. But that’s why these arguments are so....silly"

Lol but redheads do give a damn. Racebending Redheads is a thing. And yeah the Danish argument may be silly but you are literally cherry picking! What the hell? Did I ever bring up Danish culture in my video? Nope. Why not address the argument that people would rather see Princess Tiana as a Jamaican Actress than a light skinned African American who is from the same culture. Why? Because her character is dark skinned. So yeah this isn’t a cultural issue which is even more of a reason why you can’t compare it to Black Panther lol.

"Anyways, sorry for commenting so much. You seem like a well rounded individual and it’s always sad to see intelligent people fall into the same trap I fell into. Basically just really dig deep into these conversations"

TL;DR

You’re so condescending though. Insinuating that “smart people” are the ones who are “seeing through all of these lies.” I don’t agree with you so by your statement I am “not smart” until I do. In other words, you’re apologizing for the wrong thing. Like I said, you’re cherry picking what to argue against and then when its something you can’t argue against you just say crap like, “I used to feel the same way. Smart people are seeing through it. Did you know x y z that is completely unrelated to any of the good points that you made? Oh and I personally experienced a b c which is also unrelated to your 20 minute video.” Those aren’t counterarguments or realizations. It’s just bs and you aren’t listening to anything that disagrees with you whereas I am reading all of this junk and responding to what YOU SAID and countering it. Not replying with a bunch of unrelated strawmans and whataboutism.

#ariel is black #the little mermaid #racebending readheads #racebending #opinion archive #rant archive #controversial #racism #bigotry #nuance #close minded #simple minded #bias #confirmation bias #halle bailey #disney

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bie-lovers · 6 years ago

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Fic Recs

I’m participating in the Phanfic Finder Fest and I’ve stumbled upon some absolutely awesome fics that deserve so much love! Go read and I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

(i’m putting this under a read more because this post got long)

FT. DAN’S FAMILY

home is where the wifi connects automatically - by @oqua12 (ao3) (tumblr) G, 8k

Summary: The wifi at Dan's parents' house is utter crap, which is definitely why he's always so miserable when he visits his family for Christmas. Because of the wifi. (Or at least, that's what he chooses to tell himself.)

My thoughts:

oof. i don’t even know where to begin.... there’s so much to unpack with this fic. on the surface there’s dan missing phil at christmas, and then there’s difficult family relationships and how people can hurt each other without actually realising nor meaning to and there’s love and thoughts of a better future and goddamn, this fic is beautiful.

HISTORICAL AU

Renegade - by @awesomesockes (tumblr) M (beware of mcd - it’s not mentioned in the masterpost), 20+k

Summary: It’s World War 2. Phil, a young German soldier, is stationed in Denmark. There he meets Dan - a rebellious Danish school boy who is intent on making his job hell. But before long, they realise they have more in common than they’d have thought. How do you hide a friendship when you come from two different sides of a war?

My thoughts:

HOLY SHIT. i read this months ago but it still makes me tear up when i think about it - and yes, i still think about it. because this fic is everything. it’s so heartbreakingly beautiful, full of longing and love and loss and the consequences of war... just... yeah, it’s a beautiful experience to read this fic.

FIC BETWEEN 1-5K

Marigold and Rosemary - by @esnesnonibila (ao3) G, 3.6k

Summary: Phil’s a strange child. His first word is ‘why’. He doesn’t speak much and cries a lot and never smiles. His parents take him to doctor after doctor who say that, despite that he’s intelligent for his age, there’s nothing wrong with him. Nigel gives his son fat plastic toy soldiers to wave about in his chubby hands and put into his mouth. Instead, Phil makes a stage out of a baby blanket and has two of the little men carefully hop around it; lines up the rest in rows as an audience and then knocks them over when he’s finished, his face crumpling.

My thoughts:

this fic... this. fic. y’all. I lovelovelove it and it’ll forever sit within my heart with such a bittersweet feeling. There’s so much to talk about with this fic; from parenthood and how difficult that can be, to childhood and growing up different from everyone else, to love and friendship and the beauty of it all. The writing is phenomenal - every word fitting together like puzzle pieces in this intricate and wonderful little universe.

TV SHOW PLOT AU

Stirring In Love - by @andthenshesaid-write (ao3) (tumblr) T, 72k

Summary: When Phil applied to be a contestant on the Great British Bake Off he didn't even expect to make the long-list, let alone make it into the actual tent. But make it he does and there he meets Dan, a baker unlike Phil in every possible way. After a rocky start, Phil realises that maybe he can learn some things from Dan after all, and the biggest things have nothing to do with baking.

My thoughts:

i still find myself thinking about this long after having finished it. the writing is captivating and beautiful and it’s such a fun and sweet slow burn fic about baking, rivalry, cakes (so many good cakes!!), and falling in love. yeah, i’m not doing this justice, but trust me when i say that this is a brilliant, brilliant fic and you should definitely read this!! it’s a classic.

WET DREAM

make me dream of you - by @capriciouscrab (ao3) E, 1.5k

Summary: He nudges at Phil's mind, creating the link that allows them to share thoughts and feelings with each other. Dan senses him opening up and gasps, the feeling just as erotic as when he slides himself inside Phil's willing body. They drift together now in this shared dream, breathless with excitement.

My thoughts:

this fic is built on such a unique concept and i love it so much, i could read thousands of more words in this universe!! it’s hot and sexy and warm and so full of love. it may be a bit of an unconventional take on a wet dream but as soon as i read this fic i knew i had to rec it! so well written and so good.

MARIO KART

Waiting Room - by meandmybrokenfeels (ao3) G (beware of descriptions of injuries and such), 1k

Summary: Prompt: a toddler broke your nose and I may or may not have snapped my thumb during a very intense game of Mario Kart and now we’re both sitting next to each other in the hospital waiting room

My thoughts:

this is an older fic but it’s such a fun and easy read. their banter is so very them and i how they’re both immediately connecting and teasing and it’s just... a little delightful gem of a fic.

SIXTY-NINE

in and out - by @iihappydaysii (ao3) E, 1k

Summary: Sex. It's one of the three things in life that make Dan happy.

My thoughts:

ashley is hella great and y’all probably know that but the way he managed to make sex like this so sweet and tender and loving is just amazing. this fic is about so much more than the hot sex and the characterization is just... spot on. it’s such a warm and hopeful and happy fic.

FT. MARTYN AND CORNELIA

go follow your gem - by @phanetixs (ao3) (tumblr) T, 4.8k

Summary: “B-but,” Kathryn spluttered. “You don’t? That’s not, that’s not...but you’re a woman.”The boys winced and Martyn looked close to an argument, hilariously enough, and all Cornelia felt was sadness that her gender was reduced to this, to a single-minded archaic Purpose.

Or, Cornelia decides not to have children.

My thoughts:

this fic handles such a delicate topic so wonderfully and carefully and i’m in love with the writing, it’s absolutely gorgeous. oh, and this quote is amazing:

“I’m proud of you,” she told him.

“What for?” Dan replied, turning his face towards her, smushing his cheek into the back of the sofa. He looked so young like this, and it’s altogether too easy to forget how much he’s been through, how much he’s had to fight.

“For being you. I think a lot of the time that’s the hardest to achieve.”

HOOK UP APP

best kept secret - by @alittledizzy (ao3) (tumblr) M, 8k

Summary: Bryony wants to introduce Dan to her friend Phil... the same guy Dan may already be dating.

My thoughts:

i love the focus on dan and bryony’s friendship and how the story flows with them. mandy’s a master and her way of writing feels so easy but important anyway and yeah... this fic is amazing!

FT. FANTASTIC FOURSOME

A Whisper of the Heart - by @pseudophan (ao3) (tumblr) T, 4k

Summary: Dan spends a little too much time in the school library, and one day he notices that all his books have previously been taken out by the same boy.

My thoughts:

such a fun read - a high school au with on-point banter and all the good things! I’ve read it multiple times and it’s still just as good and fun as the first time. (also, @ nora where’s the follow-up fic i need to know Miss Oliver’s reaction)

#fic rec #recs masterlist #phanfic #phandomficfests #my post

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human-redesigned-rp · 6 years ago

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Lost In Translation

Rory/Mai

While exploring the pastries available at the UCL coffee shop, Rory rubs Mai the wrong way.

Of the planets he's been to so far, the food on Earth was definitely Rory's favorite. And that was just in England. During his short time on this little planet, he learned that each country has their own special cuisine, and it only made him want to explore more. He overheard a student in his class, a female from a country called America, gush over how easy it was to bounce from country to country in Europe. Typically, only a few hours on a train. The temptation to take a weekend trip was there, but Rory was fairly certain he couldn't get away with it, unless he found a way to connect the trip to his mission.

He would just have to keep working his way through the British cuisine. So far, his favorites were the sweets. Pastries, in particular. There was a cafe on campus that the students frequented for coffee before their next class or to work on their assignments. It was Rory's favorite place to go after he finished his classes. Currently, he was peering through the glass case displaying all the delicious pastries, trying to remember which ones he already tried and which were his favorite. He stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd, though he didn't notice. His outfit of the day was a lavender jumper with a pair of tight black jeans that were littered with holes, and a floral scarf tied around his curls. He liked human clothes. They didn't make any sense, which was what made them fun. He was also wearing sunglasses in doors to protect his sensitive Eastern eyes. According to the other students, it wasn't usually this sunny during the season called "Winter," and Rory was suffering for it. It made him want to hide indoors, and spending hours in the cafe seemed like a good idea.

"I'll take a," Rory paused as he squinted at the title cards in front of the different pastries, delayed by the translator in his head. His English was decent, but specific names were hard for him to remember. "An almond croissant, a cheese danish, and a cranberry scone or is it scone?" So far, he heard multiple pronunciations of that word, and he still wasn't sure if was scahn or scohne. He turned to the person standing in line behind him, raising a brow, "Which do you think it is?"

~*~*~*~

Mai sighed miserably at the long line at the cafe. She should have just brewed her own coffee in the shared kitchen at her dorm, it would have been faster. This is what she deserved for being lazy.

She took the momentary wait as an opportunity to tie her streaky blue hair up in a bushy bun on top of her head. In front of her, a man dressed in flamboyant colors mused about pastries. She crossed her arms over her black fishnet shirt and grey flannel and leaned over to shift her weight onto one hip. When he turned to ask her about scones, her pink lips pulled into a flat line. She shrugged.

“I don’t know. Just give the man his pastry. Some of us need caffeine,” she growled at the cashier. Her sharp eyebrows peaked in surprise as they bagged up baked goodie after baked goodie. “Damn, you must have incredible metabolism. That’s like a thousand calories.”

~*~*~*~

The woman behind him said a lot of things that even his translator couldn't communicate to him, but it all sounded very scientific. Rory decided against asking for clarification, in case metabolisms and calories were inherent human knowledge. They were undercover, after all. "Yes," He replied simply with a too big grin and a quick nod.

Even though his food was ready, he didn't immediately turn back to the cashier, something about the woman distracting him. Her hair had streaks of blue in it, and Rory wondered if it was like that naturally or if humans had the power to change their hair color. Centaurians had the technology to change their appearance drastically, but he was pretty sure humans didn't.

"Your hair is beautiful," Rory mused. He reached a hand to poke at it, but then he remembered he learned very quickly that humans liked personal space and let his hand drop before he could start inspecting the blue streaks. "I think I'd like to have colors in my hair too. Maybe green." It would match their eyes nicely.

~*~*~*~

Mai blinked at the smiling stranger. A dagger-sharp eyebrow arched upward in morbid curiosity. Who the hell was this wacky space cadet? And why the hell is he staring at me?! Her rosy lips pursed into an aggravated frown. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder. On instinct, her mind went to her camera in the pouch. Her fingers itched with that old familiar urge to film.

Finally, he said something. It didn't make Mai feel any less uncomfortable. She stepped back from the man in the pastel jumper. Her dark eyes squinted with suspicion. She was not in the mood to be flirted with, even by a potentially gay pastry lover. It wasn't until he mentioned dying his own hair green that her cold, standoffish expression melted away. "Oh, green dye doesn't stick so well. I've done it a few times. It washes right out after a few showers. You have to go blue, then the blue fades out to green when it washes out. It'll last longer than going with green first." She didn't know why she was giving hair dye advice to this weird stranger when all she wanted was her coffee and a quiet corner to edit yesterday's video takes. Maybe because this weird stranger seemed like they really needed the help. I mean, who dyes their hair green for their first color? Clueless newbie.

She nodded her pointed chin toward the counter. "Your food is ready." She adjusted her bag again. Her fingers had yet to decide whether this guy was worthy of the battery power and memory space. "Some of us would like to get our coffee before the day ends," she continued to harass him, gentler this time. Maybe he was just the local crazy, every town had one. She was just shocked that it had taken her so long to bump into this one after living on campus for two years. Perhaps she'd been more elusive than she thought.

~*~*~*~

Rory nodded along to her explanation, frowning slightly as he tried to keep up with the translator in his head. It didn't help him understand what exactly she was talking about that though. He didn't know how a shower washed out a person's hair color. If he took enough showers would the brown wash out of his hair? What if he wanted to change his hair to different color like pink or purple? Were there rules for those colors too?

Rory had a lot of follow up questions, but didn't have a chance to ask any before she was ushering him towards his food. He wasn't put off by her impatience though, much too excited to finally get his hands on all those sweets. Grinning, he took the bag of pastries from the barista and handed her a lump of notes that he didn't bother to count beforehand. He knew it wasn't the right way to pay as soon as he saw the look on her face, but he was still getting used to the whole human money thing.

The barista huffed in annoyance and counted out the correct amount before handing Rory his change. "Thank you!" He grinned before looking at his new friend. "Do you want to sit with me? I might have ordered too much food, and I want to hear more about turning your hair different colors."

~*~*~*~

The man in pastel collected his bag of pastries with the enthusiasm of a child at a candy store. He handed over a wad of cash and strained smile on the face of the girl behind the counter told everyone in line that they would still be waiting longer. “Ohmygod,” Mai groaned. She rolled her eyes in utter disbelief. Never had she met someone so utterly oblivious to social cues.

When he turned back to her, hands stuffed with baked goods and loose change, he gave her a sunny grin and an unexpected invitation. Mai nearly choked on her surprise. Blinking in shock, she held up one finger to him. “Hold on a minute.” Coffee first, before all decisions comes coffee. She stepped up to the counter and in one breath ordered her large dark roast with soy milk. The barista swiped her credit card, handed her the cup of black liquid, and away she went. She waved for the strange man to follow as she weaved through the tables to her regular table in the back corner.

“Thanks, but no thanks, I can’t eat any sweets. I’m on a diet.” She finally replied to his friendly offer. As she set her laptop out on the table and slid into her seat she asked, “What’s your name?” Her fingers tapped her password in with sharp key strokes before she looked up expectantly. “You from around here?”

~*~*~*~

Rory stepped out of the way of the line, already digging into the bag for his first pastry and taking a bite. It was the cranberry scone, and it was delicious--a little dry, but it would go perfectly with his coffee. Humans did a good job of pairing food and drinks, he thought as he took another experimental bite. He was already half way through when the girl returned with her coffee, waving for him to follow.

Placing his bag of sweets on the table, he took a seat across from her, pausing to take a sip of the warm coffee. A diet, he remembered this one. The humans went on those when they wanted to be healthier or lose weight. She didn't look like she needed to lose any weight, but Rory hadn't thought that about anyone yet. "Rory," He answered with a dimply grin. At first, it was hard for him to remember to answer with his human name and not his real one, but now he was finding that he much preferred the one given to him for his mission.

"I'm from...France," He said slowly. It was the back story he was told. Born in France but moved to England at some point in his childhood. He wasn't sure why they made it so complicated, but he was having too much fun making up stories about his past to care. "And you?"

~*~*~*~

Mai's dark eyes darted up from her screen to eye the cheerful man called Rory. "France," she repeated back with a skeptical lift of a sharp eyebrow. Sure, he had a funky accent, but it didn't sound quite like French to her. She wasn't intimately familiar with the language, though. She'd only been to France once, as a child, when her father was still alive. They'd visited the South of France on holiday together. She'd played on the beaches and ate rich French foods for a week with her mum and dad. Her thin eyes narrowed with suspicion. Rory, from France. Maybe she had stumbled the local crazy after all.

"I'm a local," she replied vaguely. She tapped the icons for her video library and editing program before leaning over to tug her camera out of its case. She plugged it in to the laptop. "Name's Mai." The download began, a little loading bar cycling on her screen while flickering images of girls in ghoulish makeup and greasy hair flickered across the screen. Mai frowned at it and took a gulp of her coffee. The heat buzzed in her stomach, slowly radiating out to her fingers.

"Have you ever been in a film before?" The question came without warning while she watched her download lurching across the screen. She must be interested in filming him, she realized, otherwise she wouldn't have bothered to ask. The ideas were starting to take shape already. Pretty Rory and his pretty smile, dressed in his soft pastel colors, juxtaposed against something brutal and dark. The pretty face we put on to cover up our failures as a culture. Mai clicked over to her editing program and opened a new file. "I don't mean like on the telly. I mean a real film," she clarified, just in case he thought he might pretend to know a thing or two about cinema.

~*~*~*~

"Mai," Rory repeated slowly. It was a short name, but he still wanted to get it right. He wasn't sure what humans considered an unusual name, but it wasn't one he heard yet, and he liked it. "Nice to meet you," He added, remembering that was part of the whole manners thing he was still learning.

He watched as she setup her laptop as he took another bite of his scone, washing it down with the coffee. He wondered what she was working on. So far, his assignments included a lot of writing and reading about the country he was supposed to be from in a large, very heavy book. Mai's sudden question broke Rory from his thoughts, and it took him a second to respond, relying heavily on his translator and his knowledge on human things so far. He's seen a few films, since his time on earth, and he liked them. He never realized he could be in one himself.

"No," Rory shook his head, curls bouncing with the movement. "Should I try? Are they fun? To be in, I mean?" He asked.

~*~*~*~

She glanced over the top of her screen at his pleasant introduction. Her eyebrows arched upward as if to say, really? She doubted it was really all that nice to meet her, but this guy also seemed to be immune to her anti-social hinting, so maybe he was being honest after all. Either way, Mai gave him the same critical stare before turning back to her screen.

She clicked through a few files before pulling up a scene she was working on cropping and fitting together into a rough draft of the final film. She smirked at the look of sheer terror on the actress’ face as she hung helplessly with the demon monster approaching. Mai let the video clip play silently as she scanned through the still frames for the perfect place to cut.

“Umm...” She debated her reply as she cropped the video and replayed it again. “That depends how much of a masochist you are.” She spun the laptop around to show Rory the clip of the girl, wide-eyed and screaming, dangling from her ankles. “I made poor Ally hang there for over half an hour as we shot this scene from four angles. She’s still narked at me for that one.”

~*~*~*~

Rory tilted his head curiously as she played a clip for him from her laptop. So far, the films he saw so far were more in the fantasy genre, according to the humans. The sight of a girl screaming in horror was something Rory had yet to see, and he couldn't help but furrow his eyebrows in confusion, wondering why humans would want to watch other humans be scared.

Then Mai said something that really confused him. Rory never stopped to think about how films came to be, he assumed they just...existed. Like maybe the television made them itself, but from what they've seen the humans aren't technologically advanced enough for that.

"You...shot this?" Rory asked slowly. He had a lot of questions. How did she hang there for over half an hour when the scene was just a few minutes long? Was Ally okay? And what does "shot" mean? The translator in his head kept was talking about guns and syringes, but neither of those seemed right. "You created it?" He asked again, hoping he was getting closer without completely giving himself away.

~*~*~*~

“Yup.” Mai spun the screen around. She clicked a couple of buttons, cropped the shot down to only a few seconds long, and then moved on to the next shot. The axe murderer in his playful mask limped toward her with menacing slowness. Mai clicked around to find a length she liked flr the shot, then turned her computer to show Rory again.

“This is my sick and twisted brainchild. It’s not done, so no, you can’t watch it, and no I’m not going to tell you the plot because then you’ll go write a book and say it was your idea or something stupid. Creative confidentiality sorry.” She smirked proudly as the axe murderer raised his weapon and then the screen went black.

Mai flipped the laptop back around. “And cut to the gore effects,” she muttered to herself. “Corn syrup, foam organs, and latex makeup, the best part of making a movie.”

~*~*~*~

Rory removed his sunglasses and rubbed at his sensitive eyes, adjusting to the lighting inside the cafe. Mai was saying so many things that Rory didn't understand, and it felt like it would take him years to catch up. His translator was working frantically in his head, unable to translate certain words like "foam organs." Admittedly, he was still trying to comprehend what she meant by stealing her idea and writing a book, rather than the other strange words.

Blinking, he watched clip Mai showed him, wondering where the man got his mask. He kind of wanted one for himself. "Making a movie sounds like a lot of work," Rory commented wearily.

"So, all that blood you see in a film is fake?" He asked slowly. It probably wasn't a question a human would ask, but he needed to know these things if he was going to blend in. It would probably look a little odd if he watched a film with another student and got horrendously disturbed during a murder scene, because he thought it was real.

~*~*~*~

Leaning back in her chair, Mai crossed her arms over her chest and shot Rory a curious look. At this rate, she wasn't going to get much editing done this morning, not with this dingus questioning every step of the process. She'd just have to save it for later, when she had some peace and quiet. She lifted her coffee to her lips, still staring at the weirdo in the soft colored jumper. She needed more caffeine before she could handle any more idiotic questions.

"Yeah, it is work," she replied curtly. She took another deep gulp, before she added with a sigh, "It takes a couple of years to make anything of length and quality. It's not all fun and games. Most of it is spent at the computer stitching it all together one tiny piece at a time." Long pale fingers tapped on the save icon and began to shut down programs.

Her sharp winged eyes flickered up over the screen of her laptop to give him a long stare. Are you serious? She wanted to ask. Without looking down, she slowly folded the laptop shut. "Yeah..." She started slowly, shocked that she had to really explain this. "Most of the time it's colored syrup. If you get a real intense director, sometimes they use pig's blood, but that's pretty controversial." Looking down at the table, she sipped her coffee again, her eyes loudly announcing 'I can't believe this dumbarse' to nobody in particular.

"Hey listen," she finally ventured. "Where are you from, really? Because it sure as hell isn't France, not unless you grew up under France's most rural rock. Seriously."

~*~*~*~

Rory tried to keep his expression calm as he panicked internally. His mission was to blend in and gather information on Ara’or-vezz. Drawing attention to himself might ruin his cover and warn Ara’or that the Centauri were watching. So far, he wasn't doing a good job of either, but he wasn't really trying. Earth was a massive, exciting planet, and he would rather learn all he could about it than stalk a fugitive doctor he honestly didn't care that much about. Why focus on that when he could talk to Mai and find out how films are made?

What if he just told her the truth? From the few conversations he had with humans about space, they didn't believe beings from other planets existed. So the likelihood of her putting much value into him admitting he was, as the humans called, an "alien" was low. Still, it was better to be safe.

"Yes, I grew up under France's most rural rock," He confirmed with a cheeky grin. "My parents taught me at home and didn't believe in technology."

~*~*~*~

Okay, what the fuck? The moment she called him out on his BS, the guy turned white as a sheet. The silence between them lingered like a toxic fog of awkwardness, infecting everything around it with its anxious anticipation. Mai fidgeted with the paper sleeve on her cup of coffee, dagger-sharp eyes dissecting his every slight change in expression. Something didn't feel right, and it wasn't her editing choices. Rory was a filthy liar.

Him agreeing with her exact statement only proved her suspicions. His grin was bitter with mischief. She squints at him, a disapproving scowl turning her fair features. "Alright, cool." She dismissed the conversation with a wave of her hand. Without another word, she set to packing away her laptop and gathering her things to leave.

#Rory #Mai #Lost In Translation

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airshipcity · 7 years ago

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for HC post: Harry potter, aph norway, legolas?, (from haikyuu) hinata, nishinoya,suga, bokuto, oikawa, yamaguchi (hopefully you don't mind so many ahhhh )

:OOO dw i don’t mind!!! i’m putting them under a cut to save my poor followers’ dashes tho

harry

A - when he finds out how easy it is for him to get wizarding clothes that are actually fitted for him and sit right on his body, as opposed to dudley’s leftover clothes, he never wants to go back and hermione helps him get all kinds of nice, casual clothes, both muggle clothes and robes

B - no matter how much harry loves the wizarding world and how different it is from his old life, harry and hermione still smuggle regular ballpoint pens into hogwarts because they can’t always be arsed to go buy more quills and inkwells just to finish their homework on time

C - it takes harry forever to actually nail apparating, primarily because he just has so many shitty memories and experiences with apparating and portkeys and floo powder and all sorts of magical non-broom transport

D - harry tries working as an auror for a while, but eventually decides to start a career as dada teacher at hogwarts, to the relief of all the people in his life tired of him still getting into life-threatening situations on a regular basis

aph norway

A - he owns like, eight different coffee machines. even though he primarily drinks black coffee. you never know what your next houseguest might want so he has Everything

B - he also has two drawers full of ties, because the other nordics keep giving him ties for birthdays and christmas etc. a lot of them are joke gifts and he has at least twelve different christmas ties that play songs and/or light up

C - he genuinely tries to keep up with all the new icelandic words for technology stuff and trends and all that stuff?? partly because it’s interesting, and partly because he feels like he’ll fall behind and lose touch with iceland if he doesn’t, like if he doesn’t pay attention icelandic will just stop sounding familiar

D - he knows every single norwegian dialect. even the dumb made-up ones and the ones that hardly sound norwegian at all. he also speaks fluent swedish and danish, but refuses to speak either in the presence of sweden or denmark, 100% because they want him to. (he might switch over to a random obscure norwegian dialect just to mess with them, though)

legolas

A - legolas can use swords, but he’s fully aware he’s not nearly as impressive with a sword as with a bow or a knife or a pair of daggers, and is juuust petty enough that he’ll only use a sword if he really has to

B - he’s a horrible, horrible actor. too emotional and takes all the fake arguing personally. breaks character and storms out in a huff. terrible at lying and pretending unless it’s to temporarily get a playful rise out of someone, and even then he’d prefer being honest and smug about it

C - will stubbornly pretend he’s not hurt until he’s literally falling over from the pain, absolute shit at laying down and letting people take care of him if he can help it

D - you know the “how to talk to short people” graphic??? he exhausts every possible Wrong option at every opportunity and every dwarf in middle earth has him on their personal shit list because of it. with halflings he just kinda crouches all the way down like he’s about to pet a cat and they just kinda endure it at this point because fuck it at least this way they get to look non-hobbits in the eye while talking for once

hinata shoyo

A - hinata will train and practice with like, absolutely anyone. some middle school kids sees him practicing and asks to join? hell yeah. old grandpa wants to throw for the kid a few times to feel young again? hit it gramps! some asshole in class lobs a ball of paper at him from across the room? hinata’s already spiking it and hollering a cheery “thanks”

B - even though he’s plenty capable of jumping super high himself, he’ll never really get tired of riding on someone else’s shoulders. he likes the view and he’d like to enjoy it for longer than a split second sometimes, thank you very much

C - occasionally, he trains and practices until his hands and feet are bleeding. sometimes he shows up with bandaids and sports tape around his ankles or knuckles and while it’d be easy to make jokes about hinata getting into fights with kageyama or the other teams, all the third years + tanaka are very aware of what’s happening and insist that hinata has them on speedcall, just in case something really horrible happens while hinata’s practicing alone late at night again

D - hinata does parkour and no one gets to tell me otherwise. it’s just facts

nishinoya

A - on the team, his appetite is only second to hinata’s. no one has a clue where all that food goes. asahi is constantly terrified of their power level

B - noya and hinata have an act where they balance on each other inside a massive trenchcoat they borrow from the drama club, which they use during training camps and stuff to entertain the other players - usually by imitating all the tallest people present, and some that aren’t there. their ushiwaka’s a crowd favourite, and whenever seijou is present for the act, oikawa immediately requests they do him (followed by iwa who usually follows up with “yeah and then do oikawa next” to zero protest from anyone but oikawa)

C - man i don’t have a lot of sad headcanons for noya??? but: part of him kind of wishes hinata would consider taking over as libero. not because he’s short or because he’s fast, all those things help but ultimately he sees a vast potential in hinata that he thinks would make for a great libero if hinata wanted to give it a try. he respects that hinata wants to be a good middle blocker and even an ace, and thinks it’s a super cool and ambitious goal that hinata might actually achieve, but hinata understands what being a libero truly means at the core, probably moreso than anyone else in karasuno, and noya’s sad to see that possibility already gone

D - noya is suuuper affectionate when people let him be. he’ll happily give out hugs and smooch cheeks and play with people’s hair and lay on their laps like a cat in the sun, as long as he’s certain the other person is comfortable with it

suga

A - suga does bunny ears on people in photos like, all the time. most pictures with suga standing next to someone will have to be retaken

B - suga has a surprisingly strong competitive streak, and loves challenges set by his kohais. he wins most of them, sometimes just because he’d rather push himself to the limit and be pleasantly smug about “still got it” than have his juniors laugh at him and calling him old

C - you’d think asahi would be the one that gets sick the most often and that suga’s the team mom who always has to take care of all the sick team members, but suga’s usually the first to catch anything that’s going around, and the flu just knocks him completely out for a full week. he kinda hates it, especially missing training and matches and having people worry about him and not being able to rely on him for being there for an important match because he could well be sick for it, but he doesn’t like talking about it, so he just grumbles and lets the others help so he can get back on his feet, only to huff at them about how they shouldn’t put themselves at risk of catching it from him. daichi fondly tells him to shut up and then sneezes. suga yells even louder

D - suga used to be an avid reader, but hasn’t had much time to sit down with books since he started doing volleyball, so he listens to a lot of audiobooks when he can

bokuto

A - bokuto is 100% a dog person, he’s especially great with big dog breeds but he loves them all and sometimes volunteers at kennels when he has extra time

B - the fukurodani drama club has been trying to recruit bokuto for years, and go to all their volleyball matches just bc bokuto’s dramatic everything is 1) entertaining and 2) gives them a lot of inspiration for their own activities and roles. bokuto’s heart is with the ball but he still shows up to just about all of the drama club’s shows in return, clapping and cheering loudly (which helps with the drama club members’ nerves because none of them are gonna look sillier than bokuto even if they trip up)

C - bokuto has a heart condition, and everyone on the fukurodani team is aware of it, but he persistently doesn’t talk about it and none of them ever bring it up, unless something really, really serious happens. akaashi nearly falls over himself whenever it looks like something’s wrong with bokuto but he usually manages to keep his cool

D - bokuto sings in the shower, especially communal showers, loudly and badly. he’s actually much better at singing when he wants to but where’s the fun in that when he can joke around instead (also if the drama club finds out he’s actually good at singing they’ll never let go)

oikawa

A - oikawa is the undisputed king of movie nerds at aoba johsai, but he’s kind of a snob about it, with thorough lists of what movies he thinks are Good and which ones he’ll grimace at you at for even acknowledging out loud

B - oikawa just really really cannot swim. he’s so bad at it, it’s barely even funny. he can sort of dog paddle, but that’s it. everyone else at seijoh swims circles around him.

C - he’s a massive hypocrite when it comes to food and nutrition, and pays fairly close attention to his team to make sure they eat as much as they need and the right kinds of foods, while simultaneously eating like, one (1) banana for breakfast because he didn’t take the time to prepare anything the night before and was in a rush. fortunately iwaizumi gets on his case about it constantly and usually packs extra food to make sure tohru eats, but he has collapsed mid-practice at least once because he just straight up forgot to eat properly for two days straight

D - he has like, an entire wall in his room dedicated to his team and his family and the people he gives a shit about. dumb pictures, newspaper cutouts, heart-shaped post-it notes with quotes, little neatly scrawled notes about their favourite foods and how they like their tosses and specific weaknesses of the various other teams, all that junk. it’s kind of a huge mess but he loves looking at it

yamaguchi

A - yamaguchi is such an all-over nerd that he sometimes forgets he plays an actual sport. he shows up to every practice and trains his jump-float serve all the time and yet he somehow keeps catching himself thinking jocks are the furthest thing from him and tsukki

B - yamaguchi has, hands down, the neatest handwriting of the whole karasuno team. even neater than kiyoko, yachi, or tsukki, which is incredibly impressive. he doesn’t even realize it.

C - he’s great at doing chores and household stuff, but that’s mainly because he’s always had to do these things and learnt at a very young age. as a result, he feels constantly responsible for everything, including the happiness of people around him and making sure everything is as good as it can be, which is hard sometimes. especially with tsukishima, who doesn’t always communicate properly whether something’s wrong or if everything’s okay or if he needs anything, so yamaguchi often feels like he’s not doing enough

D - yachi and yamaguchi chat a lot when they have the time, so they both bring powerbanks and phone chargers everywhere because their line apps never get any rest. sometimes yamaguchi accidentally sends something to tsukki instead of yachi and tsukishima’s response is always some variation on “what the hell are you guys even talking about, how is this possibly related to anything” and yamaguchi just “oh whoops sorry, it makes sense in context okay”. tsukishima genuinely wonders if they just send him weird pictures and shit just to mess with him. sometimes he’s actually right

#should i tag #haikyuu!!#hp #lotr related #aph #yeah okay that'll do #god i love headcanons i could keep going forever #lundsdotter

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imaginaryboyfriendcollection · 7 years ago

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HiddleHamlet: A firsthand account (Part II)

It’s 5 days later and I’m still suffering from what @hiddleston81 calls the Hiddleston Hangover.

This second half is now days late, oops, so a lot of this has already been said by now, but I still want to record it for posterity. Fair warning, this post is going to be a disorganised mess of my thoughts - swinging between genuine observations about play/performance and completely shameless fangirling - so, the usual. That’s what you’re here for, right?!

Here are some more things I want to remember about Tom’s Hamlet:

Tom’s already much-discussed perfect hair was just like in the programme photo above, but at a few key points, one lock of hair would escape from the slicked back gorgeousness and fall over his forehead. Yes, that’s right - an errant curl. And somehow I’m still here to tell this tale.

Dancing. IT HAPPENS. Only for a minute, but it is glorious. The first entry of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern comes with a beats pill playing danceable music (Kendrick Lamar, I think?) and they all bust out a few moves. I gasped. Snake-hipping, y’all! In the middle of Hamlet! Bless you, Sir Kenneth Branagh.

There’s one bit where Hamlet dives underneath the carpet and tunnels along and then comically pops out the other side. Another where he gets excited and leaps on and then over the back of the couch. He wears facepaint and wraps himself in a Danish flag. He does silly voices on behalf of the skull in the “Alas, poor Yorick” scene (a Scottish accented one, even - swoon). Tom was such a playful Hamlet in these moments, delighting in being unhinged. I loved that he was let loose like this - he had these offhand chances to laugh and play, while still being clearly and primarily defined by his grief and fury. Those contradictions seemed so human. I think, more than anything, Tom’s Hamlet is the most relatable one I’ve seen (I mean, apart from those times when he gets all murdery. But you know.)

His anger and sadness, though, were harrowing to behold. The scene in the very beginning where Hamlet comes out onto a nearly dark stage to play piano and sing is haunting - his pain is palpable, and the entire audience was hanging on his every word and motion. It was like a shot straight to the heart to begin the production. I recall reading some review that slightly criticised him as “obviously not a singer” in this scene, and I agree that it wasn’t his usual standard of vocal performance, but I would venture that this was intentional. I thought he still sounded rather lovely, but his voice was imperfect, thin and cracking with grief. This is supposed to be Hamlet alone in his sorrow, not performing for anyone as he does in other scenes throughout the play. The moment feels incredibly authentic, illustrating perfectly Hamlet’s current frame of mind, and it sets the tone for Tom’s entire performance.

I kept becoming mesmerized by the little details of him - a consequence of him being so close, in the flesh. It was impossible not to focus in on his overwhelming physical presence. He was so lean, lithe and yet all muscles, with this energy radiating off of him every time he moved. I couldn’t stop noticing and trying to memorize every tiny thing about him. I could see the veins in his hands, the freckles on his forearms, the sheen of sweat under the curls at the back of his neck. The pattern of his stubble and the little muscle clench in his jaw (urrghhh) and the way his eyes shone with tears in the stage lights. JFC, is he a beautiful human.

In his first scene (after the piano one) when he turned to our side of the stage, he did lock eyes with me and held it for a second, so I think that might’ve been him registering recognition. There will never be any way to know for sure...which means I am of course just gonna go ahead and believe my version, because why the hell wouldn’t I. Tom totally recognised me - IT IS CANON - at least in my head, forever, the end.

He did that face-cupping thing that he does to Ophelia in the scene where they kiss. His long, beautiful fingers stroking her cheek. Fucker. And the way he was looking at her...well, you can imagine it. Hamlet’s love for Ophelia in this scene is tangible, and the whole thing made my insides melt completely. Sighhh.

Oh, also - he PICKS UP tiny Rosencrantz and twirls her all the way around his body. It is literally the cutest thing and I nearly choked on my own saliva for how badly I want this thing that I’d never even thought of before, being grabbed around the waist by Tom and swung entirely around his body. UM GIVE ME THAT PLEASE. They were pretty adorable together and caused @hiddleston81 to immediately start shipping them (I would’ve too if I were a shipper, but I’m only able to ship my real-life crushes with one person, and that’s meeee).

Hamlet and Horatia had great chemistry too - they really seemed like comfy best friends, but with a good degree of physical affection between them as well. Basically, Hamlet has sexual tension with every woman in this play. Or maybe I’m projecting.

Oh, let’s talk about the leather. It comes out right at the end, for the incredible fight scene. There’s the already-beloved leather jacket of course, but also - leather gloves. The time he spent putting on the gloves was probably only 20 seconds, but it seemed like a slo-mo 5 minutes in my head, with imaginary sexy music playing in the background (wee-wee-wowww). After he gets the gloves on, he immediately runs them through his hair to slick it back all the way, and it is maaaybe the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I somehow didn’t burst into flames. Amazing.

Little tummy peeks happened a couple of times throughout the show, which were just too damn delicious for words. Again, he looked so good in his clothes! When on top of that, his shirt would occasionally ride up a bit over his tight, low-slung jeans and show that bit of skin, uhhh...heavenly powers, restore me.

Hamlet’s death scene is heartbreaking, obviously, and my eyes were full of tears. But still it was impossible not to notice that his shirt had ridden up again and his lower abs were on display, creating a complicated and weird mix of emotions, ie I am very sad but also extremely turned on, what is wrong with me?? He was also so close that you could see his chest rising and falling with his breathing, which is just so intimate, and I couldn’t stop drinking it in with my eyes. I never could take my eyes off him for a single second when he was onstage, even when the action would move elsewhere.

The older lady sitting beside me leaned over before it started and said, “Well, we couldn’t get any closer than this, could we?” and I thought, “Aw how nice, a sweet theatre-loving lady who wants to chat.” Then she said “Tom Hiddleston will be practically on top of us!!” and I thought “OH NO SHE’S A KINDRED SPIRIT.” This was proven true at the intermission when she asked me if I was “enjoying the view of Hiddleston’s butt.”

Me (in my head) I LOVE HER

Me: It’s like a chorus of angels singing in my ears.

Her: And his legs!!

Me (getting too worked up) HE’S SO LEGGY

Her: Have you seen The Night Manager?

Me: OH GIRL

One last thing. I know I got to be in Tom’s presence once already, in a completely astounding circumstance, but it was really special to be in the same room with him for this particular experience. I feel extremely grateful to have had the chance to be there, and do not take it at all for granted. His talent, charisma and grace as an actor shone in this role. He was utterly moving. He came alive on stage, and it was absolutely thrilling to witness. As someone who has seen all of his work and adored him from afar for years, this was something new. Being there with him, in this intimate setting, in his element...was beautiful. I’ll never forget it.

#hiddlehamlet #rada hamlet #tom hiddleston #i'm still in awe #help meeee #where do i go from here?!#what am i supposed to do with my long hiddles-free life stretching ahead of me?!#post-hamlet depression is REAL

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sunflowerseedsandscience · 7 years ago

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Someday Your Child May Cry

23. Mourning

It takes Mulder a moment, as confused as he still occasionally is, to process that Scully is walking away from him, down the hallway, towards the elevator. There’s a momentary flash of annoyance- how can she just leave after a confession like that? But it’s tempered, quickly, by the realization that they’ve both been through a hell of a lot in the past few weeks. It’s perfectly understandable that she might be at least a little uneasy around him for a bit.

“Scully,” he calls, and she stops, looking back over her shoulder curiously. “Where are you going?” She blushes softly.

“I, uh….” She looks down, fidgeting adorably. “I wasn’t sure if maybe you wanted to be alone.” Her eyes raise tentatively to his. “I mean… she was your ex-wife, Mulder. I thought maybe you’d want me to let you grieve on your own for a little while.”

“Scully,” he says, holding out his hand to her, “get back here.” Her face relaxes into a smile, and she turns fully, walking back down to his apartment door with a pleased flush on her face. He takes her hand and draws her close to him, sliding his arms around her. Holding her close, Mulder backs into his apartment, kicking the door shut behind them. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment,” he murmurs into her hair. “But I honestly can’t think of anything that wouldn’t be easier for me to handle with you by my side.”

“I just… I wasn’t sure,” Scully says softly. “I thought that maybe… with what you saw, the life that you told me that you dreamed of on that table… you might need time to sort things out.” Inwardly, Mulder curses himself for ever having told her the details of his bizarre, disjointed hallucinations.

“That wasn’t me, Scully,” he assures her. “There’s no universe possible where I would walk away from you just because Spender told me I had to. If any of that had been real, one way or another, I would have found my way back to you.” His right hand slips down between them, coming to rest on her belly, which is ever so slightly larger now than it had been when this entire mess had begun. “I would have found my way back to both of you.” Scully squeezes him closer, and he hears her sniffling into his chest. “I don’t know where Spender got the idea that I would ever have chosen a life with Diana, but he was wrong. The only part of that dream with any ring of truth to it was the end- where you came in and kicked my ass for being an idiot.” Scully laughs.

“That does sound closer to reality,” she admits. She pulls away from him, discretely wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “I’m sorry,” she sighs. “I know that whatever Spender put in your head wasn’t there because you wanted it to be. I’m being stupid about this.”

“You’re not,” Mulder promises her. “I’d probably be a little uncomfortable, too, if the situation were reversed.” She nods.

“Skinner says he’ll let you know when he finds out about Diana’s funeral arrangements,” she tells him. “Her family is taking her body back to New Hampshire, but there’s going to be a service here first.” She looks up at him, biting her lip. “I could… I could go with you,” she suggests. “If you want.” He smiles, bending to kiss her forehead again.

“Of course,” he says. “You don’t have to get back to the office right away, do you?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Probably not,” she says. “I’m not doing much other than paperwork, not until you’re cleared to be back in the field. Why?” Mulder grins at her, leading her further into his apartment, towards his bedroom door. She pulls away almost immediately.

“Mulder, no,” she says sternly. “You’ve been out of the hospital for less than a week. You’re not ready for that sort of physical exertion yet.”

“Who said anything about exerting myself?” he asks her. “I was planning on letting you do all the work.”

“Mulder….”

“Come on, Scully,” he cajoles her. “I haven’t been allowed to touch you in weeks. I promise, I’ll just lie there. I won’t move.”

“Just what every woman longs to hear from her lover,” grouses Scully. Mulder focuses on looking as sad and pathetic as possible, and finally, Scully heaves a sigh. “No movement,” she instructs him. “If you start getting out of breath, even a little bit, we’re stopping. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Mulder promises.

All in all, he thinks, he does a decent job obeying Scully’s orders. She has to stop, once or twice, until he’s mastered himself… but really, he challenges any man (or woman, for that matter) to keep completely calm and still with a woman like Scully sitting astride him. Mulder is the king of believing the strange and the unlikely, but this is one thing he’s fulling willing to admit is absolutely impossible.

——————————-

Diana’s service is surprisingly well-attended, given that she had only been back in the country (supposedly) for less than two years. Most of the attendees are fellow agents, from a variety of departments and divisions. Both Skinner and Kersh are among them. Skinner nods cordially to Mulder and Scully; Kersh steadfastly ignores them both.

A few members of Diana’s extended family, those who live nearby, are also in attendance, as well as, of course, her parents. Stephen and Barbara Fowley stand at the front of the church, a receiving line of two, greeting mourners with austere and straight-backed dignity, and Mulder heads straight towards them. Scully holds back for a moment, nervous, but Mulder takes her by the elbow, smiling reassuringly down at her.

“It’s fine, Scully,” he tells her. “I want you with me.” She nods and follows him, aware of Skinner’s eyes on them as Mulder’s hand settles at the small of her back. Stomach knotted with apprehension, they approach the bereaved parents, and Scully reminds herself, as her breath comes more quickly, that this meeting will be far more difficult for Mulder than for her. Not for the first time, she’s thankful that she’s not really showing (at least, not to people who don’t already know her well), because she doubts that Mr. and Mrs. Fowley are ignorant as to the cause of the demise of her daughter’s marriage, and this meeting is likely to be awkward enough as it is.

Diana’s parents both offer a tight smile as Mulder approaches. “Thank you for coming, Fox,” says Mrs. Fowley. “It’s good to see you. Diana told us that you’d been working together again.” She kisses Mulder stiffly, then steps back to allow him to shake her husband’s hand. Mulder reaches out and draws Scully forward with the hand at her back again.

“This is my partner, Dana Scully,” he says. “She’s been on the X-Files with me for the past seven years.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Fowley,” Scully says. “Diana was an excellent agent.” As she reaches out to shake Mrs. Fowley’s hand, the older woman swiftly looks her up and down, her jaw clenched tightly, and Scully realizes, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, that Diana has, at some point in the past year and a half, confided quite a bit in her mother, at least where her former husband was concerned.

“Yes, Diana mentioned to us that you were… working with someone new, Fox,” Barbara Fowley says, her voice suddenly icy. “It’s good to know that you feel able to give someone what you denied our daughter.” Mulder looks distraught.

“Barb, that’s enough,” hisses Mr. Fowley.

“Barbara,” says Mulder, “I didn’t- I never meant to-”

“It’s all right, Fox,” says Mr. Fowley, his hand on his wife’s arm. “We understand that there was more going on in Diana’s marriage than what she shared with us.” Barbara Fowley snorts derisively, but her husband ignores this. “We’re just grateful that the two of you were on good terms before this happened.” Mulder nods, thankful for the rescue from Mrs. Fowley’s anger, and he and Scully move quickly away, allowing the next people in line to give their condolences.

“Mulder, are you all right?” Scully asks, as they make their way to a pew near the back of the church. He nods, though he still looks as though he’s likely to either cry or vomit at any moment.

“I just never realized,” he says quietly, as they take their seats, “how much Diana had told them. They always treated me as if I were their own son, when we were married… I guess that explains why they cut off contact completely when we divorced.” Scully reaches over and takes his hand, and he smiles shakily at her. “Guess it’s a good thing your mom likes me so much, huh?”

“My mother loves you, Mulder,” Scully assures him. “And so do I.”

The service is brief, and with Diana’s body headed up to New Hampshire for burial, there’s no procession to the cemetery. There’s no invitation back to anyone’s home for refreshments, either; a small spread of fruit, danishes, and coffee is offered in the church basement, but Mulder and Scully elect to skip this and go straight home. It’s Mulder’s first trip out of his apartment since being discharged from the hospital, and already, his head has begun to ache.

As they’re making their way across the narthex, Scully catches sight of Skinner standing across the vestibule, watching them closely, his expression unreadable. He seems to be scrutinizing Scully in particular, and she nods to him, but instead of returning the gesture, Skinner strides briskly over to them.

“Agent Mulder, I trust you’re recovering well?” he asks.

“Yes, Sir,” Mulder replies. He grins down at Scully. “I’m told I should be back in the office in a week, if I listen to my doctor and take it easy.”

“That’s a big ‘if,’“ says Scully, and Mulder laughs. Skinner, however, barely cracks a smile.

“That’s good to hear,” he says. “Because I’ll need to see you in my office the moment you return to work. Both of you.” Without another word, Skinner turns and walks away, joining the mourners heading for the church basement. Mulder looks nervously at Scully.

“I think he knows,” he whispers, as they leave the building. “Did you see the way he was looking at you, before he came over to talk to us? He looked right at your stomach.”

“It doesn’t matter if he knows or not, Mulder,” says Scully. “He’s legally forbidden to ask me whether or not I’m pregnant, and he’s definitely forbidden to ask me who the father is.”

“Yeah, but this is Skinner we’re talking about, Scully,” says Mulder. “He’s stretched the meaning of ‘legal’ on more than one occasion.”

“That was to help us,” counters Scully, and Mulder laughs.

“Exactly,” he says. “If he’s that willing to stretch laws when it’s to help us, how much further do you think he’ll be willing to stretch them if it’s to kick our asses?”

#x-files fanfic #my fic #Someday Your Child May Cry #todayinfic

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peculiarmindset · 7 years ago

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Yurio getting "both-ends gassy" during ballet class with Lilia that turns into a huge lecture? 🙃

*I have no idea how to do ballet and have never even taken nor seen a class in real life EVER. So if I got anything here wrong, I apologize! I used the internet for help and we all know how reliable that is ;p

“Let’s start off with the À la quatrième devant position!” Lilia called out, her arms crossed as she looked at Yuri like a hawk on its prey.

Yuri grimaced, not meeting the ballet teacher’s eyes as he awkwardly pulled himself into the position.

The blonde had no one to blame but himself for his current predicament, but it still didn’t stop the teen from being grumpy (well, more than he usually is) during today’s lesson.

He knew that it would be a bad idea to eat half a dozen of those cherry cheese danishes that were just lying around innocently on the kitchen table this morning.

Damn Denmark for creating such light and buttery treats that should to be known as one of the foods for the gods.

Unfortunately for him, after consuming the sugary treats, Yuri could definitely feel each and every one of those six danishes weighing down in his belly right now.

And now having to go into various ballet positions while also keeping in the urge to let out a burp or a fart (or most likely both) at the same time was downright torture.

With his arms held up at his sides, Yuri stood on his tip toes with his right leg in front of his left. Yuri bite his lips as he could feel a burp wanting to come out.

But the teen did everything he could to keep it in- he shuddered to think what the former prima ballerina would do to him if he let out something so ‘vulgar’ in front of her presence.

But despite his better efforts to not show his discomfort, Lilia’s sharp gaze caught everything. “Yuri! You are looking very uncomfortable and your mind is not focused. Is there a problem?” She raised a thin eyebrow at him.

Yuri gulped, trying to shove his burp down as he shook his head. “No.” He grumbled, making sure not to open his mouth too wide, refusing to give the trapped wind an opening.

Lilia narrowed her eyes at him but decided to move on and shout out the next position. “Next, À la seconde!”

Yuri shifted his right leg to the far right, keeping his foot on its tippy-toe. This and the next few positions were quite easy for the blonde and he had no trouble keeping his gas in.

But just as he let his guard down, Lilia yelled out for him to go into the Épaulé position.

Balancing on his left leg, Yuri lifted his right leg straight behind him as he made sure his foot was pointed correctly. He put his right arm up in front of him as he swung his left arm behind him.

In this position he could feel his stomach gave out an audible rumble, making the blonde accidentally open his mouth at the sound.

UUUUUURRRRRRPPPPP!

Lilia gasped as Yuri belched out long and loud in front of her. “Yuri Plisetsky!” She gasped, horrified.

Yuri blushed a hot red as he bit his lip, his face looking like he just swallowed a sour lemon. “Sorry….urrp!” The blonde shrunk even further from his instructor’s glare at that last burp he accidentally let out.

“I know that your manners are still a work in progress but I expect you to at least excuse yourself properly for your vulgar actions.” Lilia scolded him, using her full height to look down on him.

If it had been anything else, Yuri would have already cursed them out like a sailor and refused to apologize.

But this was Lilia Baranovskaya and Yuri was smart enough to know that the former ballerina would absolutely destroy him and leave none of his ashes behind.

So taking whatever self preservation he had, Yuri pouted as he opened his mouth, letting out another burp that gained another notch to that glare scale of Lilia’s, and reluctantly said, “Uurrrrpp…….excuse me. Sorry.”

Lilia still gave him a look of disapproval but accepted his excuse and apology and decided to move onto the next position.

Yuri sighed in relief before almost swearing out loud when he saw the barre.

Damn, how the hell was he gonna hold in a fart while doing a plie?!

To his worst nightmare, Lilia stood right in front of him as she observed him with her critical gaze. “Next, Ronde jambe!” She ordered.

Yuri gritted his teeth and tightened his butt as he spread his arms up at his sides and VERY slowly lifted his right leg while keeping his balance on his left foot which he had on his tippy toes. He lifted his right leg up until his knee was bent and his right foot rested on his left knee.

Avoiding the ballerina’s gaze, Yuri then carefully stretched out his right leg until it was straight out, balanced on the barre.

Yuri took in deep breaths, swallowing more burps that were trying to get out while at the same time, trying to keep the gas from coming out of either end.

Lilia scolded him that he looked too stiff and uncomfortable (ya think?!) but told him that it was enough and to move on to the next position.

Yuri carefully came out of the position and nearly groaned as Lilia shouted out the dreaded plie.

“Next, Plie in second position!” Lilia ordered.

Praying to the gods to not let his body betray him, Yuri laid his arms down in a slight arch and spread his legs open. Giving a final prayer, he slowly bent his knees so he looked like he was sitting on a invisible chair.

Yuri was literally sweating as he tightened his butt cheeks as he could feel some hot, but thankfully quiet gas leave him.

Lilia then gave out her next order as soon as he was in that position. “Next, Plie in first position!”

To get into first position, that just required Yuri to bend down until he was pretty much squatting.

He knew right then that it was all over.

Yuri carefully bent down and all the pressure that was put into his bottom became too much and just like that, Yuri ended up ripping a very loud fart into the otherwise quiet dance studio.

BBBBRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT!…

Yuri groaned as the sound practically echoed in the room.

He completely refused to look up at Lilia to see what face she was giving him at that moment. The blonde already knew that he was screwed.

Afterwards, Yurio ended up giving in to nature and finally let out the rest of his farts and a few more burps. Lilia quickly yelled at him and shooed him into the bathroom to 'take care of himself’.

When he was finally 'empty’, Yurio came back to the studio to see Lilia with both her hands on her hips as she glared a hole through his face.

“Care to explain to me what exactly caused all this….completely inappropriate behavior from you, Yuri Plisetsky?” She said in a deadly tone.

Yuri winced at the use of his full name before finally letting the cat out of its bag and telling her about all the danishes he had eaten before.

Unfortunately for the Russian tiger, not only did Lilia REALLY rip him a new one and lectured him for a full hour about the diet and proper behavior of a ballerina AND figure skater, but later that night he also got his ears yelled off by an angry Yakov who Yuri learned was the person who those danishes had belonged to in the first place (the coach had bought those to bring to a party later that night).

Yuri learned to never again eat too much, especially before ballet practice.

#YOI #Burping #Farting #Asks #Fanfic #Yurio #Lilia

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