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fullfiresiren · 4 years ago

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beauty of the dawn

jujutsu kaisen

fushiguro toji x reader

The notion of a loving family was something foreign to Fushiguro Toji. Family, to him, was a bitter word -- full of hate and abhorrence. Abandonment and fear were a commonality in his own childhood. But in you, he finds a warmth he didn’t think he deserved – a home he craved, a love that makes him feel safe; full of gentle touches and soft kisses. But he’s scared. He's broken, and angry, and he knows the threat of his family is always lurking close, snapping at his heels, ready to devour. You bring the notion of family to his doorstep, and he spooks. He panics. He can’t let them find you, he can’t and he has to give up the only feeling of warmth he has ever known to do so.

It haunts him forever – leaving behind the only woman he ever loved, and a child he will never know.

word count: 3.8k.

notes: *inhales* ANGST— lmao but really, I live for it. Toji may be a bad person, but I suck dick, not morals, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ bro I fr don’t even know what came over me. This has been like the smallest headcannon for me and somehow it turned into this horribly sad piece, and although Toji is a dick, I also think he is an incredibly complex character that, at the end of it all, was just a desperate father trying to look out for his child. I think he deserves much more than he got, and he kinda gets shat on in this fic lmao I'm so fuCKING SORRY FOR THAT--

warnings: nsfw/18+, angst, hurt no comfort, abandonment, unplanned pregnancy, pregnant reader

“Take me,” he prays, panting secrets that fall from his lips onto your soft skin; promises of pleasure as he breeds you deep. “Take all of me.”

And you do – over, and over, and over again.

Hilting him to the deepest part of yourself, and holding him close, so close, his breath a hot ghost across your face as he leans his forehead against yours. You keep him there until he is finished, taking his seed like it was sacrament. He gives you everything he has to offer, and only when you have slipped into a light slumber does he pull away.

He never strays far, though, and he cannot stay away for long. You are like sweet honey and warm sunsets; the breathing embodiment of a life he was never before privy to – the promise of something better; a miracle. Far from the cold depravity and sharp pain of his own family, in you, he found only warm touches, and words of tender affection. Toji feels so overwhelmed by the amount of love he has for you, that sometimes it’s unbearable. He feels so happy he could die.

He is not an honest man, by any means. He kills for a vocation -- and enjoys it, too. It’s something he’s good at. It’s an easy way to make money, and it helps him pay for his half of the rent on the meagre apartment you share. It also lets him keep the fridge full, make sure you’re always warm, and that you’re never without. He doesn’t really care about himself or what he has to do – so long as you’re happy.

The weight of his body is always heavy between your thighs, his chest solid, thrusts slow and deep, stretching you, making a perfect fit for himself inside you. He likes drawing it out – each time he takes you. He enjoys seeing you beg for release, relishes the way your tears slide down your flushed cheeks, because he likes being the one to kiss them away, knowing he is the only one who ever makes you feel this good. His name sounds so perfect when it falls from your lips at your height of ecstasy, and the way you take him in has him swearing he can see heaven.

You see a side of him that no one else does, but he’s dark, he’s toxic. The amount of sadness in his soul is challenged only by the sheer force of his anger. He's sure that he wasn’t always like this, but... he can’t really remember a time when he wasn’t. Everyone and everything was his enemy. He’s never really told you much about his family, or his past. His childhood had been dark, you assumed, based on the way he flinched around children, and steered clear of any conversational topics that included them or parental figures.

Toji Fushiguro was untouchable to everyone, and only just tangible to you.

He wants to be able to give you everything. He wants to lay his head on your chest in the depths of the night when he’s feeling lost, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat to guide him home. He wants to come home every night, no matter what happens to him throughout the day, and be able to feel the brush of your soft lips; to taste your tongue with his – god – he wants to. But he’s afraid. He’s scared. If he gives you everything... if he shows you who he really is... what happens if you see something you don’t like? Will you pull away from him? Will you cast him out and abandon him – just like his family did? Toji isn’t feeble by any sense of the word, but he thinks that would be the one thing that would break him.

That’s why he’s only let you see glimpses... and only every now and then.

He’s just so miserable when he’s alone. He’s angry at the world, and you’re the only thing that soothes him. The only thing he has ever loved.

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror when he comes home, locked away in the too-small bathroom. You hear the keys turning in the lock; a signal of his arrival, and the door to your apartment opens, bringing with it sounds of paper bags crinkling, keys being tossed into their bowl, and huffing exhales as he struggles to kick his heavy boots off.

“Toji?”

“I’m home!” he calls, his voice a deep timbre in his chest, smooth like rich oak.

You follow it, leaving the safe space of your bathroom to find him, and when you pass the threshold into your small kitchen, he’s lifting bags of fresh groceries onto what little counter space you have. The movement carries with it droplets from an October rain that had caught him by surprise on his walk home, ones that hang from the edges of his black hair and drip down onto his damp black shirt.

“Toji,” you repeat, beaming as you bound into your small kitchen. “I have wonderful news!”

He spares you a glance between unpacking vegetables, dark eyes tracing the curve of your face, hands grasping at packets of food that need to be tossed in the fridge, and cans to be stacked in the shelves.

“Hmm?”

He offers you his face, leaning in close, pausing in his task to receive a small blessing of affection from you — a soft kiss against the scar on his lip that has his eyelashes fluttering closed, and then one more fully against yours – always greedy for any love you bestow, always chasing just one more, just once more, just another, my love, just one more...

He continues with his chore, but only when you giggle at the fluttering of kisses he peppers across your face, your jaw, suckling at your neck, your hands against his chest pushing him gently, urging him to finish his task – but not before you give him another deep kiss, all giddiness and mirth swimming in your gaze. He can’t help the deep chuckle that spills from his lips at seeing you so happy.

“Toji,” you begin, and he’s rummaging in the paper bags, brows furrowed because he could have sworn that he bought three carrots, and not two -- “I’m pregnant!”

He stills.

He can sense your beaming smile, almost feels the warmth of it on his cold skin, and it only makes him shiver.

The seconds tick by without any form of reaction, and the atmosphere grows horribly tense. Toji doesn’t look at you, but he can see from his peripheral vision that your smile slips at the same time that your shoulders round and you make yourself smaller, unconsciously closing off. You’re twisting something in your hands, suddenly nervous, and he has a nauseating feeling that settles in his gut, because he knows exactly what it is that you’re holding.

It’s proof.

“Are you... happy?” you ask, and you hate that you have to. It’s like a punch in the gut, and you’re afraid. This was not the reaction you were expecting at all.

“Are you sure?” he doesn’t know why he asks that.

He isn’t looking at you, and he isn’t moving – he’s not even blinking. You feel your hands becoming sweaty as you clutch the positive pregnancy test, mouth dry. A quickly increasing panic creeps over your skin, gripping you by the throat, and you honestly have no idea how to traverse this kind of response to your news. In the bathroom you only practiced scenarios in relation to a beaming, positive reaction.

Which room should we make into the baby’s room? Our baby can always sleep with us, though, and I know they’re definitely going to prefer you – I'm hopeless with kids... but I hope they look like you, Toji – a perfect combination of everything I love about you!

Do you want to pick names out? I hope it’s a girl... but a boy would be wonderful, too! I know the baby will adore you, no matter what! Do you have any names you like? We can name them after someone you love? If it’s a boy, I want to make his middle name yours...

Why didn’t you think he was going to show apprehension or reluctance? Why were you so idiotic to assume this is something he desired when he’s never given you any signs of wanting to start a family? He’s probably feeling entirely overwhelmed – and no wonder – you have no tact about this. Fuck, you’re stupid. You fucking idiot. Pathetic, dumb, worthless--

“Y-yes,” you reply, and your voice is a shadow of its former self. “I took three tests. I have one here--”

“How.”

You flinch a little under the curtness of his words.

“W-what—?”

“How did this happen?”

“Uhm...” your voice sounds so frail when you speak, and you can't help it. He’s making you feel like you’ve committed a horrendous sin. You’ve managed to combine the epitome of affection between the two of you into the creation of what will become a child – a perfect mix of the two of you, and yet, you’re beginning to hate yourself for doing so. You didn’t mean to... it was an accident... “We don’t... you know... use protection... and we... have sex... a lot...”

“I thought you were taking the pill.”

You feel like you want to throw up.

His entire body is unnaturally still, and he’s not looked at you once since you’ve told him. You are pretty sure that the can in his right hand is warping under the violent pressure of his grasp, and you wring your hands around the test nervously, the weight of it somehow heavy against your palms.

“I... don’t take the pill...” you remind, and then as an afterthought, you add, “I’m sorry.”

Words you never thought you would say in relation to this. You never though you would have to apologize in this kind of situation. You exhale a shaky breath, and it seems to bring him back to reality. He sets the can down on the countertop with more force than needed, and you try your best to blink back tears as you ask, “You’re... not happy... are you...?”

It’s more of a statement than a question, and it hurts to say – god, it hurts. The words sting when they leave your mouth, like a hard slap against your face, but the ache is not nearly as bad as the way his silence is wounding you. You feel like you’re about to collapse from the amount of pain you have in your heart.

“I need to go somewhere,” is the most he offers you, before he’s turning on his heels and striding past you, leaving the apartment you share.

The noise of the front door slamming shut echoes in your mind long after the sound itself has gone.

He never did come back.

— — — 5 years later — — —

In the end, you were blessed with a baby girl, all chubby with round, rosy cheeks. Dark hair and eyes like her father, but soft and gentle like her mother. She was an almost perfect child. She never cried, and she never fussed, content in just being close to her mother. She listened when you spoke, and learned fast, growing just as quick, and you would die for her. She was your blessing; Akemi – the beauty of a new dawn.

You’re sure that he would have loved her more than life itself, but you try not to spare any thoughts his way anymore.

Toji gambles his life away, blowing through anything he earns as quickly as he makes it, drowning himself night after night in heavy alcohol to dampen his senses until they are nothing more than a faint hum in the back of his brain.

With any luck, those things will kill him long before the guilt does.

He fucks faceless women, drunk beyond sense, and when he finishes, he leaves before they sleep.

“Hate me, (y/n),” he sneers, turning sharply to vomit up onto the wet asphalt, breath a shaky exhale as he stumbles into the cold night, thoughts only on you – only ever on you – unaware that he’s crying. “Hate me. I fucking deserve it.”

His face is smeared with bile and tears, and he is so fucking angry -- so desperately sad, and he cries, and cries. He wants to go home. He just wants to go home. He wants to meet her – his darling daughter – he wants to hold her, and kiss her forehead, and tuck her into bed. Fuck everything that he thought – he would have been a great father, he knows it – and you knew it, too. He’s so lost without you, and he wants to lay his head on your chest in the safety of your bedroom, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat to guide him home. He wants to feel the brush of your soft lips again; to taste your tongue with his, moan your name into your parted sigh, make you feel him again.

He screams, but it catches in his throat before he can, and he splits his knuckles open when he sends a furious punch against a brick wall.

He can protect you from a lot of things – but not the power of his family. Not that. He’s just one man, and they’re so many. He has a heavenly restriction, and they are all blessed with both innate and inherited techniques, passed down through eons. He knows what they’ll do if they ever found out about you – about the child, and Toji swears on everything he has, that he won’t let them touch you – or her. Even if he won’t be able to. Even if he’ll never be able to hold his daughter, to thank her for being born, to cradle her against his chest and feel her wrap her small fingers against his – he won’t let the Zen’in have her. He won’t.

But that doesn’t mean that he deprives himself from watching over her – or you. Eyes follow the two of you home from her pre-school, singing nursery rhymes to your hearts content, watching as she orders “up, up, mommy!”, squealing happily when you lift her onto your shoulders. He imagines himself in your place; lifting her to higher heights, hearing her giggle a chorus of happy songs as your hand finds his, lips on his scar as you tell him how much you love him.

But he always keeps his distance, dark baseball cap shielding his features, and leaves before you feel someone following you.

It becomes increasingly hard to keep it at that. He starts pushing the boundaries, testing how close he can get. He knows he shouldn’t -- he has no right to – but when she dropped her stuffed toy one time in the supermarket, and you were oblivious to it, he finds himself bending down to grasp the too-soft toy in his calloused hands, dropping it in your basket when your back is turned, and your brows are furrowed as you regard the price difference between her favorite flavor of juice compared to the off-brand ones.

The thrill of being so close, of doing something, anything fatherly, was like a fix – a short relief from the aching despair and loneliness constantly plaguing him, and he finds himself doing it more and more – always pushing, always testing the waters. He even smiled at her once when she caught him staring, and she sent her own toothy grin back at him. His heart soared.

His daughter’s name was Akemi, and he first heard it when it fell from your lips one warm afternoon. He wants to write her name on his heart – right beside yours.

He wants to give her something – a pretty gift, but he doesn’t know what. He was never good at buying presents, and would only ever bring you flowers, since it seemed like something that could never go wrong, and would always bring a bright smile to your face. Flowers would be strange for a child, though. He twists the dainty silver bracelet between his large fingers, thinking bitterly that this was the same way you held the pregnancy test all those years ago. He didn’t really care how much it cost him. He’s sure that the salesman added unnecessary tax and extras to the price just to give himself more commission, but Toji doesn’t care – he just wanted something pretty to give to his daughter.

When he finally sees her enter the park, small hand tugging yours happily, his mind goes empty, and he can’t stop staring. You are as beautiful as ever, and it’s no wonder his daughter is so ethereal when she has you for a mother.

She is perfect, he thinks -- too good for this life -- and even though it’s the worst thing he has ever done, he is reminded that pulling away from you was the only way to save her from his family. It looks like she escaped the curse of inheriting any of his bloodline's techniques, and what’s more so – it seems like she, too, is oblivious to curses; skipping past them as she chases leaves that skit about the dirt path of the park, her teddy in her arms. Toji dips his head down when she draws near the bench he’s sitting on, the brim of his baseball cap keeps his face hidden, and his sadness known only to himself.

“Excuse me?”

He bristles when her voice floats past his ears, so gentle and sweet.

“Hey, mister,” she pokes his knee with her slim finger, so tiny compared to the size of his body, and he jerks at the contact. “Is this yours?”

She’s holding the bracelet in her small hand, the silver glinting in the morning sun, offering it up to him with large eyes, so close to him. At this distance, he can see the true color of her eyes – exactly like his own – and the small freckles that dot her skin. The longer he stares, the more his chest constricts painfully, tightly – he’s finding it hard to breathe, and he exhales suddenly, sharply snatching it away from her.

The force of the movement causes her to stumble a little, tripping over her feet, and before she knows it, the man who was once sitting before her has entirely caught her in his large arms, scooping her up before the ground has a chance to harm her.

She blinks once... twice... swaddled in his arms, sitting against his broad chest, and Toji frantically looks for you, finding you caught up in talking to another mother, too busy to notice. He knows he would scold you for it if he was still in your life, but when his daughter laughs, he snaps his head back to look at her, forgetting what thoughts he had in his mind at the glinting sound of her happiness.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, “You’re fast! Thanks for catching me!”

He doesn’t know what to say – if he should say anything at all. His plan was to give her the bracelet, telling her that it was a late birthday gift from someone that loves her very much, and walking off before she (or you) has the chance to catch on or respond. But now that he’s inches away from her, holding her close as she peers up at him, he’s lost again. He’s lost, and he can’t breathe. He needs you to steady him, but you aren’t here, and he doesn’t know what to do, what should he do, what should he--?

“Where did you get that scar from?” she asks innocently, her large eyes suddenly trained on the mark beside his lips.

“F-from an accident,” he mumbles, “a long time ago.”

“Oh,” she hums, hands splayed against his broad chest, looking around her, swaying her legs absentmindedly. “Wow, you’re really tall! I can see everything from up here!” she exclaims happily, “My mommy’s not as tall as this, so when I sit on her shoulders, I can’t see nearly as much as I can now!”

“Oh,” he mutters, not really knowing what to say, “is that so?”

“Mhm,” she nods, “Mommy’s not as big as you are either.”

At this, he gives a genuine laugh – a sound he hasn’t heard fall from his lips in a long, long time, looking at her with quiet adoration.

“She’s not as fast as you either,” she continues, “you were super-fast!”

“She’s strong in her own ways, though,” he mutters, offering her a soft smile.

“Do you know my mommy?”

He bristles, actively avoiding her gaze. His heart is racing from this much interaction with his daughter, and he’s sure she can feel it under her small palm. It beats for her – if only she knew, and Toji contemplates, for the briefest of seconds, just telling her. The thought leaves his mind as soon as it enters. He doesn’t have that choice, and he doesn’t deserve it.

“Not really,” he mutters, dipping down slowly to set her footing on solid ground once more.

“She’s really pretty,” the little girl continues, playing with the soft fabric of his t-shirt in a small moment of fondness and familiarity, “and nice – and she makes great food!”

Toji realises only after the fact that his hand had settled on top of her head, and he’s stroking her hair softly, thumb caressing her cheek when he moves to cup her face. She doesn’t seem to mind at all, and Toji is overwhelmed with a plethora of emotions. Pride in you for doing all this by yourself and raising such a wonderful child, shame for abandoning you and his daughter, mirth, anger, warmth, sadness, love--

“Akemi!” you call, seeing her lift her head at the sound of your voice. “This way, honey!”

“Oh, I have to go now! My mommy is calling me!” she perks up, gripping her teddy a little tighter and offering the man a smile. “Bye-bye!”

“W-wait!” he calls, thrusting the gift into her small hands. “This is for you, uh... f-from me...”

She looks down at it, before her whole face lights up, and Toji is suddenly breathless – she looks so much like you when she’s surprised, happiness blossoming over her face the same way it would on yours.

Toji feels a deep-rooted emptiness inside his body when he watches his daughter retreat away from him; a living embodiment of all his failures to you, and yet, as he sees her long, black hair whip out behind her, he realizes something else — she was your promise delivered; a combination of everything good between the two of you, in itself a miracle. He might not be in her life, but he was also partly responsible for creating something so beautiful, so ethereal.

He knows he doesn’t deserve it, but if he was ever fortunate enough to be granted a second, it would be a miracle; a holy gift.

A blessing that would accompany the beauty of dawn.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x you #fushiguro toji x you #angst #pregnant!reader #abandonment #dilf toji

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

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make me be true, make me be blue // Anthony Bridgerton

A/N: As much as I love Benedict, I also love Anthony. The last part of this is extremely inspired by a scene from The Crown - let’s see if you can guess which one! Title: Harry Connick jr - It Had To Be You

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: arguing, an argument, lots of love and fluff, caring, established relationship, married couple, suggestiveness, female pronouns, use of word ‘wife’.

Word count: 2.8k

As the season in London drew to a close, it could be seen on every face that they were tired of the dancing and the music and the lukewarm lemonade. It was never a comment on the talent of the musicians unless, perhaps, it was a Smythe-Smith musical. Their seasonal musical was never welcomed with much excitement, but very few could say no to the quartet of young women.

Nevertheless, whomever the artist may be, many were glad for the season to draw to a close. Sighing tiredly, you bid your goodbyes to the latest lady to draw you into conversation. Your lavender skirts swish gently under foot as you wander around the lavishly decorated ballroom, in search for your dear husband.

You spy his hair first; the dark brown hair standing a head taller than the rest of the men he currently spoke with. Repressing another tired sigh, you note that the elderly white-haired men Anthony was standing with were of large importance in society.

“The Revolution was over two decades ago, and it seems France traded in one monarch for another,” is what you hear as you sidle up to Anthony. He smiles down at you, hooking his arm through yours, before turning his attention back to the conversation.

Anthony nods along; his interest piqued but not to the point where he would happily contribute to the debate. Instead, he simply offers, “True, a king for an emperor.”

“Surely Napoleon is still in exile,” You comment lightly, eyebrows furrowing at the topic of conversation between the men. They would never see a day of war between them; having enough money between them meaning they would not have dress in a uniform. As such, there was no need for the conversation.

“Dear girl, Napoleon left Elba and landed back in Paris last week. Do you read the papers?” Lord Hugo states, a dismissive look on his face as if questioning your very presence in the conversation. He frowns at your comfortable stance next to your husband, wondering why you aren’t socialising with the other wives.

A flush heats your body; rising anger. Turning to Anthony, you squeeze the hand that rests on his forearm, a silent plea for help but your husband remains silent.

Ducking your head, you state through clenched teeth, “Pardon me, Lord Hugo. I must be making a round of the room; I wouldn’t want anyone to think I was neglecting my womanly duties.”

“As you should,” The Lord replies as you turn your back to him. You bristle from the comment, back straightening despite the corset designed to do such an action. It wouldn’t be long now until Anthony wrapped up the conversation; seeking you out through the crowd. For you however, the ball was over – nothing left to be said.

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

Stalking through the large house, you ignore the increasing calls of your husband. Having left the carriage in a hurry of skirts, silks and ribbons, Anthony had begun immediately calling your name – wanting you to stop and wait, to stop and listen.

Even the Butler remains silent as he catches a glimpse of your face and the thunderous expression it currently holds. Silently, the Butler offers a prayer for the wellbeing of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton.

“You’re really going to remain silent?” Anthony calls from the bottom of the staircase, one foot poised on the bottom step, ready to launch himself upstairs at a moment’s call.

Pausing in your retreat, you throw a glare at your husband. A look that definitely shows you were not up for talking on the stairs.

Anthony nods, seemingly understanding this. “So it’s the silent treatment until we’re in our room,” He pauses, beginning the ascent to the bedroom he has shared with you since the first night of your marriage, “Understandable.”

You roll your eyes, walking away from the man that had managed to vex you so thoroughly.

Shoving open the door to your shared bedroom does little to siphon off some of the anger you feel. In fact, it only increases when you try to work the laces of your dress free by yourself, frustrated tears brewing in the corner of your eyes as you manoeuvre yourself into every position possible to try and free yourself.

Slumping at your dressing table, you come to realise that it was more humiliation that you felt.

Your husband was a marvellous man; intelligent, funny, respectful and incredibly handsome. Yet, he had moments where he could so fantastically obtuse.

The moment played in your mind on a constant loop; the words of disdain from the Lord, Anthony’s silence. A constant loop in your mind; it would be a while before your mind rested enough to let you have some peace.

Brushing your hands through your hair, you loosen the pins that keep in place, beginning the painstaking process of removing them. All the while thinking that if the night had gone better, Anthony would be the one removing them, offering you a kiss for each pin removed.

--------

Anthony had taken his time walking to the bedroom, running through the events of the evening, thinking where he might have gone wrong – said the wrong thing, done the wrong thing. He found the moment; realised what he had said or rather, what he hadn’t said, and how it had come across. Lord Hugo was an incredibly influential man, and whilst Anthony outranked him in his peerage, his youth made him all but an inexperienced whelp in Hugo’s eyes.

Hindsight was truly an excellent gift to possess. He should have said something; Hugo’s influence be damned. He should have spoken up; should have defended you.

Gently, he rests his forehead against the closed door of the bedroom. He takes a deep breath and places a hand on the wooden panel; desperate to reach through to you, but he knows that there is far more on your mind than comfort at this point.

Anthony enters the bedroom slowly, closing the door softly behind him. “Are you ready to talk me now, darling?” Anthony asks, voice soft but tone wary as he takes in your defeated state.

“You humiliated me in front of that odious man by staying silent.”

His eyes widen; truly unaware of such a misdeed taking place. “I didn’t know, truly.”

“That’s what hurts most, Anthony. This is not a marriage of equals, darling. I know you love me as much as I love you, but I have brought nothing to this marriage. I did not get the pleasure to go to university despite doing so well in my studies. I cannot travel freely, and I cannot speak my mind whenever I damn well please. There are going to be some topics that I am not going to be an expert on, but you can try your best not to defend me when I get things wrong.”

“Darling, I didn’t mean any harm.”

You sniffle, wiping away the few tears that have dared to fall. “I know you didn’t, yet it still happened.”

Anthony opens and closes his mouth, searching for something – anything – to say that could make this better, but nothing comes to mind, so nothing leaves his mouth.

A pained noise leaves your lips as you turn away from your husband, reaching for your face cream, your hairbrush – anything to keep your hands busy and the tears at bay.

Finally, a sigh is all you hear, and you figure that the conversation is done for the evening. A lingering kiss is placed to the top of your head before Anthony leaves the bedroom, presumably retiring to his study.

Once free of the confines your dress, you dress for bed, crawling under the covers. Running a hand down your face, you couldn’t help but hope Anthony would join you soon. Despite the anger you felt at the man, you couldn’t fall asleep without him next to you.

---------

You wake alone. Anthony’s side of the bed is ruffled; he had joined you an hour after you had slide under the covers. He hadn’t said anything; he had simply gathered you in his arms, holding you tightly, pressing apologetic kiss after apologetic kiss to whatever piece of bare skin he could reach.

Stretching a hand to his side of the bed, the sheets are cold. Reaching for his pillow, you hold it to your face, inhaling the spiciness of whatever cologne he used last night. Keeping the pillow close, you turn onto your back, thinking over the events of last night.

You had every right to be annoyed; you had every right to feel the way you did. If this was a different society, you would not rely on Anthony to defend you – you would have spoken your mind to Lord Hugo. But this was not a different society, and its trappings were stifling. For the hope of future generations, you couldn’t help but pray things would soon change.

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

The day moves slowly. Tea with Anthony’s mother and sisters followed by a visit to the modiste. No sign of Anthony with every visit home and your mood drops with every shake of the Butler’s head.

Eventually, you find refuge in the library, searching through the books and the papers there. It had been so long since you had read something that was not a romance. Pride and Prejudice had been published just two years ago and you had read it countless times; enjoying the author’s way with words and her creation of Mr. Darcy. However, instead of picking up the latest romance, you chose to return to the books you had so adored in your education – historical accounts of past monarchs and their reigns, accounts of wars.

It was not for the sake of Lord Hugo who sneered at you with such derision; it was for your benefit. Knowledge was free and you owned the library through marriage, why shouldn’t you take a look?

-----------

The Butler clearing his throat is what brings your attention back to the present. Having lost yourself so freely in an account of the witch hunts that had plagued the north of England; the book had caught your eye, tucked away and gathering dust. The subject had immediately caught your interest, and you soon found yourself searching for all the books you could on the subject.

Smiling sheepishly at the Butler, you ask, “Have some guests arrived? I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

He shakes his head, smiling fondly at you, “I thought you would like to know that the Viscount has returned home. He is currently in his study.”

Standing from your chair, you deposit your book on a table before thanking the Butler and rushing up the stairs to Anthony’s study. You pause just outside the door, gathering yourself, tidying your appearance and slowing your breathing to an acceptable rate.

Knocking on the door, your heart begins to pound in your chest as you hear his warm voice giving you permission to enter.

Anthony freezes in his chair when he sees you enter his study. Your eyes are bright and there’s a faint flush to your skin that has Anthony’s eyes raking over your body, curious to know what’s caused such a reaction in you.

“Darling,” He greets, voice kind and warm.

“Darling,” You reply, watching the smile grow across his face when he hears the fondness in your voice.

“How has your day been?” Anthony asks, drawing out the inevitable conversation.

You smile widely, “I spent most of it in the library, reading.”

“A new romance novel?”

You shake your head, smoothing down the skirts of your sage green dress, “The trials of the Berwick and Pendle witches.”

Anthony’s eyes widen almost comically. “I didn’t even know we had books on the topic.”

“Neither did I, but I’ve been reading through the accounts all day. It truly is fascinating. Did you know History was my strongest subject when I was in education?”

Again, Anthony shakes his head. He didn’t know; he hadn’t asked. You shrug, “Arithmetic, Geography, Latin… They never grasped me as much as History did. I would read for hours about whatever I could find: the Tudors, the Saxons, military strategy…” At the further widening of Anthony’s eyes, you continue, “I suppose as I grew older and I was then out as a debutante, I lost the habit.”

“Perhaps,” Anthony murmurs before saying, “You can always find the habit again.”

You smile widely; the grin brightening your face as it stretches to your eyes. “I was hoping you’d say that darling,” You begin, “I want to be more involved, Anthony. I don’t want to be a silent partner; I want to be there; I want to comment. I want to know what is happening with foreign affairs whether it is Napoleon or the price of tea. I want to know because I want to be on a more equal footing with you. I refuse to be humiliated that way again; it was awful, to be dismissed in that manner by that loathsome man.”

You stand before your husband, chest heaving in your restrictive dress. The words lay loud in the room; your plea for Anthony to speak up for you, your demand for further equality in your marriage.

“I called on Lord Hugo this afternoon,” Anthony states rather plainly after you fall silent, as if the meeting had been in his date book for months.

“You did?” You frown at him; wondering whether he had heard a single word that you had flung into the great expanse.

He nods. “He was rather surprised to see me. I’ll admit I didn’t plan on calling on him, but I kept thinking of last night and how destroyed you looked. I don’t ever want to see that look on your face again for as long as I shall live. So,” He shrugs, “I paid the Lord a visit.”

“How did it go?”

Anthony holds his right up and it is then that you see the dark purple now beginning to bruise his knuckles. “I may have lost my temper when I remembered how he spoke to you and how you felt afterwards,” Anthony pauses and then laughs loudly, “And I may have punched him in the face.”

“Anthony!” You berate, repressing the urge to roll your eyes at your ever vexing husband. “Is anything broken?”

He shakes his head, smiling widely, “Only Hugo’s nose.”

“My hero,” You drawl, heart racing as you take in the man that you married. The smart, brilliant and hot-headed man that you promised your forever to who had defended your honour against the man who had rudely spoken to you last night. He grins cheekily at your words, wiggling his fingers to show you that there was nothing broken – he was fine.

“You can read whatever you’d like,” He states firmly, “You can study whatever you like. Humiliate the man if there’s a next time.”

“Thank you,” You reply, holding your head high as you smile gratefully at the love of your life.

Anthony stands from his chair, having now recovered from the shock of your speech and the ease of which he can accept your demands. He had never been the easiest man to get along with; stubborn and set in his ways long before he ought to have been, but you had taken him in your stride, loving him just as fiercely as he loved you.

He rounds the desk. All the while his gaze does not leave yours. A sensual smile spreads across his face as he watches you wring your hands together – a nervous tic if there ever was any.

Leaning against the desk, Anthony crosses his ankles, resting hands upon the lip of his desk. He remains happy in the knowledge that even after the honeymoon period of your marriage was over, you would still track his every move. Your eyes dancing over his figure as he rests his weight upon the desk.

“There’s something different about you,” He finally says, breaking the silence of the room.

“Oh?” You whisper, your shoulders rolling back as you try to think about what could have changed – a new dress? A new attitude?

“You’re surer of yourself. It makes you look taller.”

“I don’t particularly think I’ve gained any height.”

“Perhaps not,” Anthony allows; a seductive smile on his face as he tilts his head to one side, regarding you. “But it presents me with two options.”

“And they are?”

“Well,” He begins, running a hand through his thick hair, “I could go and find a ladder to reach the new height of my tall wife or…”

Anthony trails off, leaving you in suspense as you find yourself taking those first few steps closer to him. Desperate to be in his arms, to be touched by the man you love - body and soul.

“Or…” You breathe; voice raspy with growing need.

“Or” Anthony beams, “She can get on her knees.”

***********

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton imagines

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moonlightlullaby · 3 years ago

Text

no celebrations?

summary: Corpse and reader celebrate his birthday in the most chill way. Based on this lovely request (ty again for sending it!)

pairing: corpse husband x gn! reader

category: fluff

warnings: food ingestion; alcohol ingestion; loads of physical touch (let me know if I forgot to mention anything)

A/N: Hello (: This is such a lovely concept, I just couldn’t wait to get started hehe Also, I got a bit carried away and just went with it, so I’m really sorry if that’s not what you’d pictured. I do hope you enjoy it tho <3 Take care!

word count: 2.4k

Masterlist

Walking into our shared bedroom, I catch the sight of Corpse exiting the bathroom. As our eyes lock, my lips curl up tiredly and a long sigh I didn’t even know I’ve been holding finally frees itself. He sits on the edge of our bed and extends his hand to me. When I take it, he pulls me so I stand in the space between his legs.

“How was the day?” he asks with both of his hands on my waist.

I hum, quirking a brow and tilting my head a bit “At least tomorrow - you know, the most unspecial, completely ordinary day of the year -” this earns a giggle from my boyfriend “is Sunday and I can just ignore all of that” I wave my hand in the direction of the adjacent room, where my laptop - filled with texts, assignments, spreadsheets and appointed Zoom calls - is.

At my words, Corpse wraps his arms around my figure, pulls my body even closer to him and plants a kiss on my stomach through my shirt. My hands, in turn, caress his upper back and soft hair.

Coming in contact with the string of his eyepatch in the process, I lean back slightly, which causes him to shoot up at me with a small frown and pouty lips. He sits still, though, as I carefully remove his eyepatch, and, while his eyes are still closed, I give each of his lids a peck. He smiles and tilts his head up to meet my lips in a long, tender and effortless kiss. Oh finally.

The idea of quarantining together was welcomed as a blessing by both of us. It meant more time spent together after all. However, with my school and work demands and Corpse’s irregular schedule, we still barely see each other throughout the day in spite of being a few feet apart from one another. And when bedtime rolls in, we’re both so exhausted all we can do is mumble words that could be counted in the fingers of one hand before drifting off. This, of course, when my boyfriend doesn’t stay up until dawn working. Don’t get me wrong, I’m his number 1 fan and admire his passion and all the hard work he puts in everything he sets his mind to, but I’m also not going to lie and say I don’t miss his warmth at night. Hence I want to devote this Sunday to him.

After a while, I break the silence “I’ll be right back.”

I let go of his hold and take my turn to use the bathroom. After doing my night routine, brushing my teeth and getting into my cozy pajamas, I walk back in the dark room and lie down, settling myself back in Corpse’s hug like two puzzle pieces matching together.

~~~~~

The excitement for a new day - not any day, no, but August 8th - washes over me as soon as I open my eyes and get a glimpse of the sleepy boy next to me.

A couple of minutes go by as I contemplate on getting up, torn between prolonging our cuddling for some more and doing something to show Corpse my appreciation for him. The latter wins and I, cautious not to wake him up, slowly unwrap my arms from him and step out of the bed. Drawing the curtains to make sure the summer daylight doesn’t disturb his peaceful state of mind, I make my way out of the room and to the kitchen.

Wondering what to make for breakfast, I take a good look around until my eyes catch the plethora of fruits we’ve bought a few days ago. Fruit salad it is.

Corpse has, for as long as we’ve known each other, made it very clear he isn’t too fond of his anniversary and similar celebrations - and, even if he hadn’t explained it to me, it’s rather evident how uncomfortable they make him. This year, his friends’ and especially his fans’ hype for the date - although unintentionally - has added an extra layer of unease to it all, to which I don’t intend to contribute.

Even though I don’t want to make matters worse and would never overstep his boundaries like this (because, thankfully, I’m not Betty Cooper and he isn’t Jughead Jones), I still want to celebrate Corpse. I want to celebrate his birth and his existence, which I’m immensely grateful for. He’s both the best friend I can confide in blindly and the lover I want to share my lifetime with. He sticks to his truth and dreams higher than I could ever imagine. He turns the darkness in the world and in his mind into light with his words and with his laugh. Having him in my life is one of the best things to ever happen to me and seeing him fly makes me more proud than I can put into words.

There’s a lot to toast to, so the solution is a celebration that is so smooth and so chill - the smoothest and most chill possible - that it doesn’t even feel like one. Just log off and enjoy a laid back day together.

As I chop a kiwi and make a mental list of fun and uncomplicated things we can do that don’t require much time and many skills, in walks Corpse, in an old white tee which is one too many sizes bigger than him and in his black sweatpants. He rubs his eyes and lets a raspy “good morning”.

“Mornin- wow! They really weren’t lying when they said when you hit 24, hotness knocks at your door”

He chuckles and shakes his head “No one’s said that”

“Well, then consider yourself the muse of a new proverb, baby”

He scrunches up his nose in response before grabbing the cup of orange juice I’d placed on the counter and taking a gulp.

“Thank you” he turns my face and gives me an orange-flavoured kiss, neither of us having ever really cared about morning breath.

“For calling you hot? Oh save it to when I’m done with the list of cheesy compliments I have for you” I take a grape and before I can get it in my mouth, he steals it, with wrinkles on the corner of his eyes.

“Then we’d be here for eternity!” he’s not wrong.

Corpse helps me put the fresh fruits in bowls and, with them and our juice cup in hand, we head to the balcony. Sitting next to each other, we calmly eat, take in the light blue sky and the cars and passersby changing the scenery ahead of us. Conversation flows naturally.

As we empty our bowls - after stealing many bits from each other -, I twist in my seat and face him “Hey, Corpse, do you see this?” I point to the very prominent and familiar dark circles under my eyes. “Wanna help me get rid of them?” I ask, knowing damn well it’d take a lifetime for them to actually go away and not giving up regardless.

~~~~~

The bathroom is filled with chatter and laughter and the sink, with hair clips, scrunchies, a sharpie, bowls, hair products and a towel. Corpse hisses as our cool homemade face mask comes in contact with his skin. His curly hair is pushed back and held by a blue hairband and I apply the mask to his face, making sure not to leave any spots uncovered. Well, that’s what I’m trying to do, which becomes an unnecessarily challenging task when my lovely partner can’t be still for more than two seconds.

He kept switching between dancing to Soulmate, by Mac Miller, and mouthing its lyrics. Now that I got him - after a small threat that I wouldn’t hesitate putting this weird mix we made in his pretty mouth - to keep his lips together, the (adorable, admittedly) swaying, however, continues. He stops momentarily, only to shuffle things around right after.

Something cold touches my skin, making it my turn to let out a hiss this time. The sound is accompanied by a small jump, caused by the surprise. Corpse chuckles and, when I glance at the spot on my arm the cold thing came in contact with, I realize it’s just the sharpie. All he does is give me a mischievous smile.

While I keep massaging his face and covering it with the mask, Corpse litters my body with his drawings. Smiley faces, lightning bolts, hearts, clouds... his repertoire is vast and any exposed skin he can find becomes his canvas. Each line causing me to giggle and shudder a little. With him focused on his creations, it’s 10 times easier for me to complete my task.

“Alright, my turn” he states, smiling, and I’m quick to grab the sharpie.

As he adjusts a matching hairband on my head, I put a dainty heart on his neck. And, as he takes the bowl in his hands, I swiftly plant a kiss on top of the drawing. At this, he sighs in content and my chest gets warmer.

I soon understand how hard it was for him to stay still as Stay comes on and all I want to do is have a little karaoke session and dance. Corpse entertains himself with my struggle and, because it’s his birthday, I’ll let it slide. So, to make the whole process easier, instead of focusing on the song, I focus on the gorgeous face in front of me. A beautiful face to a beautiful soul.

One of the various perks of sharing an apartment with Corpse is I get to see this face in all ways: sleepy, completely clean - no makeup, no mask -, all wrinkled in the morning, red when he’s embarrassed or when he laughs too hard… His laughter. Its sound pulls me from my trance “You’re staring, y/n”

“Well, at least I wasn’t moving around, Corpse” I reply with squinted eyes and nudge his side playfully.

We begin collecting the things scattered across the sink and storing them in the cabinet, and the song comes to an end, giving way to Dang!

“How long do we keep these on?”

I hum at the question and check the playlist on shuffle on my phone “How does 5 minutes and 2 seconds sound?”

Facing him, his grin mirrors mine and he spins me around. We laugh and allow ourselves to be as goofy as possible, jamming and moving our limbs around with a green paste on our faces.

~~~~~

After washing off the masks in the shower and painting our nails - so we’re both rocking the black nail polish look -, we’ve set our minds to - finally - finish the puzzle we started two months ago. It’s a 90’s anime setting inspired composition and we’d gotten about 40% of it done before our schedules got more hectic and the game, well, pushed aside. For weeks, the pieces sat on the ground of our living room and silently judged us every time either of us stepped to the side, as we crossed the room, in order not to crush them.

Sitting around the puzzle with comfy clothes, we team up against it and indulge in the wine Corpse’s got us and the hawaiian pizza I’ve ordered.

As the picture comes more and more to life, moments of comfortable silence and of chattery - when we talk about anything from our shopping list and gossip about our neighbours’ lives to parallel universes and the matrix - follow one another. A different playlist on shuffle is our background noise.

Time flies and the sun’s already hidden when it clicks to us that there are only 5 pieces left. Each piece is fitted in the whole with a giddier feeling than the previous. Corpse picks the last one - deep blue with purple and black specks - and turns to me with an excited smile and an eager gaze that I’m sure are mirrored on my face. I nod encouragingly. He places it in the puzzle and celebratory sounds fill the room.

Corpse stretches his arms and pulls me in a hug, but, since we’re both kneeling and because of the distance between us, we end up falling and lying on the ground in rather uncomfortable positions.

“Come on, puzzle, that was easy breezy! Gotta step up your game if you really wanna challenge this duo right here!”

“Oh for sure!” Corpse squeaks as we laugh at our nonsensical brag.

After a moment while we catch our breath, he rubs my back and speaks, pulling my attention to him “Not that I’m not loving this position, but what if we watched some Drag Race?”

Is this man real? If I couldn’t feel his heart beating under me or his arms around my figure, I’d be sure he’s just a figment of my imagination. “But it’s your b- don’t you wanna choose something you like more? Li-”

“Nope,” he boops my nose “Drag Race, or maybe Love Island, would be great right now.” And people still dare say the perfect man doesn’t exist!

“You’re such a dream!” I give him a quick peck before continuing “Ok, so I put on the show and you get more wine…?” He hums in approval and stands up. Our eyes briefly jump from each other to the puzzle and back to each other, then we simply nod. A silent agreement to leave the puzzle here. We’re both too lazy to put all the pieces back in the box and too proud of our achievement to let it go just yet; besides, everything’s been sitting here for about two months, what are a few more hours?

He steps to the side, gets our glasses and makes his way to the kitchen. I lie on the couch and scan Netflix for Drag Race. Corpse comes back, placing the glasses next to the couch, and gently lies down on top of me. He nests his head on my chest and we both hum contently.

While RuPaul announces what the winner’s prize will be, I play with his hair, letting my fingers knead his curls. His right hand flies up to meet mine and I bring our intertwined hands to my lips, peppering his knuckles with kisses. The gesture is cut by a loud laugh that escapes my lips as miss Vanjie Mateo’s iconic moment replays on the screen.

“Hey,” Corpse’s voice makes me look right back at him “I love you. You know that, right?”

My heart melts at his words and at the way he’s looking at me right now. I nod with a smile.

“I love you too, birthday boy.”

#corpse husband imagine #corpse imagine #corpse x y/n

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Too Late To Apologize?

Requested By @rosiesandlilies: “I was wondering if I can request a Rosé x female reader story where Rosie is an idol who also happens to be ur wife and since she and BP are taking over the world by storm, she starts to forget about you and whenever u ask her to spend a little bit of time with you, she gets upset and fights with you. You’re also an important person but you always make time for her. Can it be angsty with fluff 🥰”

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,026

Warnings / Misc: -- Angst, Self Doubt, Strained Marriage / Relationship, Crying, Some Swearing, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Oooooo lord, here we go. I am feeding 👏 you 👏 all 👏 today! This one took a while to write, but I’m pretty happy with it. I wrote it all in one go, starting at like 3am (as usual lol), so forgive me if it’s a little rough. I put a lot of effort into it, though, so I hope you guys enjoy. Thank you for requesting -- Happy reading!

PS ~ I highly recommend that you listen to these songs as you read this:

You Were Good To Me -- Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

Surrender -- Natalie Taylor

The Night We Met -- Lord Huron

I Found -- Amber Run

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Hongdae, Seoul -- 8:00 PM

“Good evening, everyone! Before I open the doors, I’d like to thank each and every one of you for taking the time out of your day to stop in. We couldn’t have done this without your support, and we’re endlessly grateful. We hope you have a wonderful experience with us tonight. Now, without further ado, welcome to La Rêverie!”

To your amusement, the sizable crowd erupts into a fit of cheers once your opening speech is over. Echoes of the joyous sounds carry across the city, wiggling their way through the alleys and streets, bouncing off of the nearby buildings. The customers slowly filter in, greeting and congratulating you on their way; you’re beyond excited to start this new journey, and seeing people so happy to be a part of it only makes you more proud.

Eventually everyone makes it inside to their seats, and you join them.

--- Later That Evening ---

“Y/N, we have a private party that would like to see you. They’re eager to meet the woman behind all of this,” Pierre smirks, quirking an eyebrow suggestively. His demeanor confuses you slightly, seeing as how this isn’t the first time high profile celebrities have requested your presence -- that’s just one of the perks of being a world renowned chef. You brush off his remark as playful banter and send him to tell them that you’ll be out soon.

---

“...yes, actually. Y/N and I were fortunate enough to meet when she was studying in Paris; we were being trained by the same chef. We’ve been close ever since. I’m not surprised that she hired me, though; I’m practically a master in the kitchen.”

At Pierre’s cocky words, your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. A small grin plays on your lips nonetheless, and you smooth out your top one more time before rounding the corner.

“What’s this idiot on about now? Did he tell you about the time that he nearly got kicked out of our mentorship program for giving Anthony Bourdain the wrong dish?” You ask the table, sending them a glance while ruffling his hair as you come up behind him. They all snicker at that, and it’s his turn to roll his eyes; with an annoyed shove, he scolds you for bringing that story up again.

“Must you always tell people about that?”

Your smile widens, spreading cutely across your face. Mocking him is one of your favorite things to do. “Mhm,” you say simply, nodding your head for emphasis. He attempts to hide his embarrassment, but it only brings a deeper blush to his cheeks.

At the VIP table, the suppressed sound of laughter carries over to you, and you’re reminded of your reason for being here in the first place. Upon offering your full attention to the table now, no longer distracted by Pierre, you’re met with 4 different pairs of eyes on you. Warm, yellow light illuminates the area, the classy overhead fixture emitting a soft glow to cast down on the guests beautifully. It’s cozy and inviting, just like you had intended it to be, and the sight makes you happy.

As you quickly scan over each of the girls, your brain pieces together where you know them from.

“My oh my, it’s Blackpink themselves. To what do I owe this honor?” All of the natural charisma that you possess takes over now, doing its best to override your nerves. It’s definitely not the time to fangirl over them; you have to act cool. One by one, you shake their hands, making sure to give each of them a glimpse of your award winning smile.

Jennie is the first to speak up. “Yourself, of course. You’re the talk of the town, Y/N, how could we miss this?” The way that she says it so casually, already skipping past the formalities, puts you at ease.

“Ah, you’re too kind. Was your food prepared to your liking?”

A chorus of approving noises leaves the table, successfully boosting your confidence in the process. “It was truly incredible, Y/N.” Rosé gushes, her adorable accent adding something magical to the simple phrase. For the first time tonight, your mind goes blank; ever since news broke of your plans for this new restaurant, you practiced to avoid this very thing. As you stand there floundering for a beat, she takes notice of the effect that her words have on you; it doesn’t take long for her to realize how much she loves to make you blush.

“Thank you so much. We’re so glad to have you here tonight.”

“We’re happy to be here! Rosé hasn’t stopped talking about it for the past week.” The Australian’s eyes go wide as Lisa exposes her, and she shoots the younger girl a shocked look. Lisa only smirks at this, her shoulders rising and falling in a nonchalant shrug. Jisoo nods in confirmation, adding, “Yeah, she’s been super pumped.”

On the inside, you’re freaking out. Rosé was that excited to try out your creations? There’s no logical explanation for that one. Your own surprise is evident in your voice as you respond, “Oh really now? And why’s that?”

“I-I’ve just heard a lot of great things, you know? You’re pretty talented.” She tries to sound confident, but the stutter in her voice betrays her. The tips of her ears are burning with embarrassment, and after sending her yet another smile, you decide to spare her by changing the topic.

“Well thank you, again. It’s truly a privilege to cook for you girls.” The conversation continues from there, effortlessly moving from subject to subject, and you love how welcome they make you feel. Occasionally you excuse yourself to check on the other guests and ensure that they’re enjoying their dinner, and every time, Rosé finds herself sorely missing your presence. Despite only officially meeting tonight, she feels like she’s known you her whole life. The two of you clicked instantly, and she can’t seem to get enough of you.

After spending the better part of 2 hours chatting and getting to know one another better, you grow bold and ask the question that’s been rolling around in your head all night.

“Would you guys like to come back to the kitchen for a bit? I could give you some tips and we could make a couple dishes, if you want.”

Rosé nearly interrupts you from how eager she is to accept the offer. The second that you’re done asking, she’s already saying yes. The others happily agree as well, and soon you’re leading them to the back to get prepped.

_________

“Just like this, everyone. Cut thinly here,” you inform, using your knife to point to the areas in question, “...then turn it and follow through with the slices. It should come out diced, like so.” The girls observed your swift motions, peeking over at the small cubes once you’re finished. Things continue on like this for a while, and soon you’re halfway done with the veggies while they’re barely done with the first part of their batches.

“Slow down, Y/N! You’re too fast for us grandmas.” Jisoo jests, her voice bouncy with amusement.

“Okay, okay! I’ll wait, just let me know if you need help.” Your knife comes to rest against the cutting board, and you take the opportunity to lean back against the countertop to watch them work. Your eyes trail over to Rosé, only to find her already looking at you; she tenses once she realizes she’s been caught, and she returns to her previous duties. You decide to tease her.

“Everything alright, Rosé? You seem a little distracted…” She momentarily shuts her eyes at your words, trying to refocus her thoughts and collect herself. A subtle snicker from Lisa can be heard, and Rosé delivers a quick jab to her arm. The maknae lets out a little “oww” before setting her things down to rub away the newfound soreness of her arm.

A little later, Jennie requests some assistance, prompting you to make your way over to her. The station that she’s working at just so happens to be next to Rosé’s, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t thrill you.

“Do we peel this first or leave it on?”

“Cut the ends first, then slice it in half and remove the outer layer.”

Under your watchful eye, she follows your instructions and is soon back on track. She thanks you, and you bring your hand up to give her a pat on the back. Although she feels childish for it, the action works to make Rosé the tiniest bit jealous; she wants your attention on her.

The blonde clears her throat before speaking up. “Y/N, I need a little help, too.” Your heart jumps at her words, and you fight hard to keep yourself in check as you spin around to face her.

“Of course, Rosé.” She sighs at the way her name rolls off your tongue, and she’s completely convinced that you’ve secretly put her under some type of spell. Her thoughts of you and your mysterious ways are interrupted when you come to stand next to her, your hip lightly brushing against hers.

“Oh, well there’s your problem: you’re holding the knife wrong. Here,” you start, reaching out to reposition her hand in a better spot. Now she’ll be able to control it better, and she won’t run the risk of cutting herself.

“Better?” You ask innocently, missing the way that she bites her lip. The close proximity of your bodies is making her head spin, and she can’t decide if she wants you to stay or go. “Yes, thank you.” She looks like she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t, so you take that as your cue to go check on the other girls. Rosé silently curses herself for missing that golden opportunity to flirt with you, but she takes solace in the fact that she catches you stealing glances her way fairly often. You feel the connection too, and she’s pleased with that -- maybe she was doing something right after all.

The next stint of the night is spent preparing and cooking the dishes you promised them while trading jokes, banter, and teasing remarks. A mini food fight also took place, but for the sake of professionalism you won’t mention that. You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day.

----

“Goodnight girls. I hope you come by again sometime soon!”

They all assure you that they’ll be back before you know it, and you believe them. After all, they gobbled those dishes down like they hadn’t eaten in days -- it’s safe to say that they enjoyed them.

Rosé lingers in the doorway, eyeing you as you work to clean off the counter. She doesn’t want to go; she’s loved getting to hang out with you. Contemplating her options, she decides to be brave; she tells the girls to go on ahead, that she’ll be there in a minute.

“Rosé, did you forget something?” You ask, looking up at her as you reach forward to wipe any remaining debris off the sleek surface.

“Yeah, your number.” Somehow, she possesses all the confidence in the world now, her new demeanor completely opposite to its previously shy counterpart.

You tilt your head at her, a dumbfounded smile parting your lips ever so slightly. “Bold, are we? Alright, I’ll bite.” You say, holding a hand out for her to give you her phone. Her eyes widen a bit -- was she not expecting you to say yes? There’s no way you could turn down a chance like this. She fumbles around in her bag until the smooth screen of her phone comes into contact with her fingers, letting her know she’s found it.

“Here you go,” she chuckles cutely, an adorable little pattern of blush rising to her cheeks again.

After entering your number, making sure to save the contact and even take a goofy picture of yourself for it, you give it back to her. “Call me anytime, love.” Her smile spreads even farther at the pet name, and she ducks her head to hide her reddening cheeks.

As she slowly approaches the door, walking backwards, she says, “I will… love,” offering you a little awkward salute at the end of it. You giggle at her antics, and soon bid her goodnight.

No more than 5 minutes later, your phone dings as it displays a notification from an unknown number.

“I’m usually not that awkward 🤦‍♀️ pretty girls just make me nervous.” The message makes your heart flutter, and you quickly save her number to your contacts.

“Really? We have yet another thing in common, then.”

The girls watch as Rosé does a little victory dance in her seat, her movements a bit limited by the belt stretched across her body. She’s practically glowing with excitement, her fingers already firing off another reply.

________

3 Years Later -- Rome, Italy

Upon seeing Rosé saunter down the aisle, your emotions get the jump on you; before you can stop them, tears flow freely down your face, and you bring a hand up to your mouth to quiet yourself. She looks bruisingly beautiful: the natural curves of her body are accentuated by the silky material of her dress, and her shoulders are covered in lace. An angel cast down from the heavens above.

She smiles at the audience that’s filled with your close friends and family, offering little greetings as she passes them. Once she and her father make it to the altar, he pulls you in for a big hug, a few tears escaping his eyes. After he takes a step back, he looks between the two of you with pure pride on his face, his hand resting on your shoulder.

The song ends, signalling for the two of you to join hands and face each other, and he returns to his seat.

“We’re gathered here today to celebrate the joyous union of Y/N L/N and Roseanne Park. Two souls destined to find their way to one another, travelling millions of miles in the process. We come together to revel in this fact and send them into their new life together with all of our support.” The officiator says into the microphone, smiling at the two of you. You can tell he loves his job, and he’s damn good at it.

Rosé’s grip on your hand tightens as she tries to contain her tears, but you’re quick to assure her that it’s alright. “You can cry, baby.” At your words, her lip is released from between her teeth, and her tears begin to flow. You wipe them away, stepping closer to rest your forehead against hers.

The ceremony continues on and the two of you recite the personal vows you wrote. Somehow, unbeknownst to you, there doesn’t seem to be a limit to how much you can cry in one sitting. Rosé is having the same problem, seeing as how her makeup is smudging some as the tears wash the substances away. You don’t care though, and you make it a point to remind her of that; she’s never looked more beautiful to you.

“I do.” You choke out, beaming at her as you run your thumb across her knuckles.

“I do.” She responds, impatiently bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waits for those final words from the officiator.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Her lips are on yours before he even finishes the phrase, her hand resting on the back of your neck as she pulls you in closer. Your lips move with hers in perfect time, working to seal your union in the best way possible. “I love you, forever,” she whispers against your lips.

____

Present Day, 1:17 AM

In order to spare you from the overwhelming sadness that you’re being subjected to now, your brain takes you back to those happy times from the past. When Rosé still made time for you; when she loved you.

Even though you hate it, you still find her in everything. The bright sunshine of the early morning reminds you of all the times she would wake you up with kisses, holding you close. The songbirds outside of your window bring to mind when you’d come home to find her at the piano, alternating between striking the keys and strumming her guitar as her beautiful voice carried out across the house.

You miss that Rosé, so, so much. The Rosé that would call you in between sessions at the studio, if only for 5 minutes. The Rosé that longed to hear your voice after a long day; who fell into your arms the second that she shuffled through the door after practice.

As time has passed, though, she’s seemed to fade more and more from your life; missed calls and texts have become a given, and it takes everything in you to mask your sorrow. Anyone who knows you well at all can easily see through the facade: you’re now a shell of who you once were, your normally vibrant and cheery self gone. You attempt to hide your sadness behind a smile, but it never really works out; your eyes don’t shine like they used to, and your lips don’t quite tweak up at the corners in the special way they had before.

But you’re getting ahead of yourself again. Your reason for crying tonight is simple: for the hundredth time this month, she’s cancelled your date night plans, opting to spend the time working instead. The argument that the two of you had earlier replays in your mind:

"I don't have a choice."

Except, she did. She could choose you, choose to take a break, if only for the evening. You never ask too much of her, knowing that she can't handle even more stress competing with what she already has from the company and media. Being an idol is hard enough, and you know you can never fully wrap your head around everything that's expected of her.

Though, that makes this all the more ridiculous. All you've asked for is a couple hours of her time -- for her to relax with you and get away from it all. Earlier that day you had gone to the store and picked up all the necessary materials to treat her to a little spa day, complete with bath and body oils, face masks, and even some bath bombs.

"Asking my wife to spend an evening with me is not unreasonable, Rosé."

"I'm not having this argument again, Y/N. I get enough shit from everyone else; I don't need any extra from you."

Maybe it was something in how she said it, so final and hateful, her face coming to rest in a scowl. Her arms were crossed as she stood in front of you, and you could see the muscles in her jaw clench and release repeatedly. In some twisted way, part of you was glad to have this encounter; it hurt like hell, but at least she was paying attention to you. She hadn't looked at you for this long in a while.

Before you can even get another word out, she sighs, saying, "I don't have time for this. I have to go back to the studio."

Just as she turns to go, you catch her wrist. With a slightly annoyed look, she turns to face you.

"If you walk out that door then I'm leaving; at least for the night. We need to talk about this, but if you don't care enough to even give me that, then…" you trail off, tilting your head slightly. You want her to apologize, to say how wrong she's been for doing all of this to you -- but she doesn't. Her expression is tired, irritation written plainly for you to see. She pulls her arm away, offering a petty, "Oh well," with a shrug before exiting the house.

How could she be so cold? Maybe that's what hurt the most. Seeing the love of your life turn into someone completely different than who you fell for stung more than any argument ever could. The reality is that she's not the same person anymore. Accepting that would be half of the battle in and of itself.

Your heart is betraying itself, stuck in a sticky situation: you're constantly struggling between your love for her and the respect you hold for yourself. Half of you wants to stay, to make her listen and fight for this; but the other half of you, perhaps the more rational side, knows that that won't work now. You've tried that already, you reason with yourself, racking your brain for any new way to get through to her.

Sometimes it's like she forgets all of the sacrifices you make for the relationship. Despite having your own busy schedule to deal with, you always make time for her. So why could she never do the same for you?

It's obvious that in its current state, this relationship is only wrecking your mental health -- a testament to that is every night you've spent lying awake, sobbing into your pillow as your list of insecurities grows longer and longer. She used to be the person you'd run to when negative thoughts plagued your mind, her sweet words of love showing how much she valued you. But all of that's gone now, leaving you with a shattered heart and racing mind. When had you stopped being enough?

~~~~~~~

It’s late, well past 4AM when Rosé manages to make it home. Practice absolutely wrecked her today, leaving her body exhausted from dancing and throat sore from all the singing she had to do. She’s more than ready to collapse into bed and pass out.

One thing that always stayed the same was your sleeping arrangement. No matter how much Rosé hurt you, you still slept in the same bed. Her subconscious was always kinder to you than she was, anyway; the two of you would cuddle in close like before, her arms wrapped around you as she slept peacefully. No arguments or yelling, you could always count on the nights to heal your heart a little bit.

As she enters the empty bedroom, the memory of your argument from earlier that day comes flooding back. She remembers that you said you were leaving, but part of her didn't fully believe you. She should've known better -- you always keep your word. Guilt washes over her, and she gently taps her head against the wall as a sort of self-punishment for her previous actions. Why did she say that to you? The hurt look in your eyes broke her heart, but she couldn’t afford to skip practice, especially with the comeback quickly approaching. In retrospect, she should’ve just told you that she didn’t feel prepared, and that’s why this practice had been so important. Even though she doesn’t show it, you still mean the world to her. She just so happens to be her own worst enemy.

With a heavy sigh, she makes her way to the bathroom; there she finds a cute little basket of goodies next to the tub, and a note on the counter of the sink. She approaches the basket first, quickly discovering that it holds some of her favorite self-care items from the local store. Yet again, a deep pang of guilt courses through her upon realizing that you had prepared that for her. Defeated, she picks up the note.

Roseanne,

If you’re reading this, then I’ve already left. I don’t want you to worry, if you even still care enough to do that, so I decided to leave this letter for you. I’ll be staying with my friend for the next while. I don’t know how long, but that depends entirely on you. I’ve tried to communicate with you, but we’re getting nowhere; we both know it. We’re not who we used to be, Rosé, and I hate that. I want us to be happy again, but it seems that I can’t do that for you. If you want to end things, let me know.

- Y/N

Rosé’s heart is breaking, splintering into a million different pieces and leaving her with no possible way to collect them all. How had she so royally fucked this up? She only has herself to blame, and she knows that; she can’t believe that she let things get like this. She had been so blinded by the stress that she lost sight of the most important thing in her life: you. It’s slowly sinking in that she very well might lose you for good this time, and she doesn’t know how to cope with that. She can survive without her career, but she knows she can’t go on without you.

----- La Rêverie, 2 Weeks Later -----

She only intended to walk by -- to see if you were there and safe. But as she gazes through the windows, peeking into the place that houses so many of her dearest memories, she’s transfixed. Her eyes land on you, finding you hard at work in the kitchen. It’s always been where you go when you’re stressed or upset about something -- two things that Rosé knows she’s the cause of.

You’re in your element, face donning a look of pure concentration as you prepare what she assumes is a new dish. Your hair’s in a bun, a few strands coming down to fall around your face as you move about. Gravity takes its time in gently coaxing them out of the tie's hold, and Rosé’s breath hitches at how beautiful you look; it’s as if she’s falling for you all over again. She’s always admired your skills, but they hold a whole new meaning now, an unspoken tension in every movement you make.

How had she been so selfish? You had been there for her all along, waiting patiently for the day that she would come to her senses. You would always have dinner ready -- usually one of her favorites, hoping that would spark something again -- but she always brushed you off. She never stayed long enough to see the crushed look on your face, or how the pain was becoming clearer and clearer by the day. She realizes now just how much of a toll her actions have taken on the both of you; you're still just as breathtaking as ever to her, but that special sparkle in your eye has long been eclipsed by something more dull. You're tired of being let down repeatedly, stuck in a constant loop of excuses and avoidance, and Rosé can't blame you for a second.

The time apart hasn't been kind to her at all; there hasn't been a single day that's gone by where you haven't consumed her thoughts. She misses you so badly it hurts, and even now, despite being so close to you, separated only by the walls of the restaurant, you've never been further away.

The distant sound of a car alarm cuts through the silence, simultaneously scaring her and drawing your attention. Before you can spot her, she ducks down; there’s no way that she can face you yet. Taking this as a sign, she decides to leave.

She’s spent the past 2 weeks attempting to spare you by not coming around; she thinks you need time away from her to deal with everything she’s put you through, and she doesn’t want to upset you anymore than she already has. Ever-torn, part of you is glad that she’s stayed away; however, another part of you just wants to see her again. You miss the nights more than you thought you would.

--- A Few Days Later ---

Steady sheets of rain pound harshly against the window, vibrating the latches with each gust of wind. Times like these are always the worst, especially when you don’t have Rosé to calm you down. Violent thunderstorms never fail to frighten you, and this one in particular seems like it’ll be the worst one of the season. Swiftly padding over to the window, you sneak a quick peek outside, only to find the branches of the large oak tree that occupies the yard swaying in the wind with reckless abandon. The sight terrifies you, but you do your best to keep yourself from panicking, even having to do some breathing exercises. Your friend can sleep through anything, and you know she needs the rest; so, you stay in the spare bedroom that she’s so graciously allowing you to reside in, and lie awake.

Across the city, Rosé is tossing and turning. The storm hasn’t fully reached its peak there yet, but she knows how worried you must be. Tears spring to her eyes at the thought of you huddled up under the covers, body trembling in fear as the storm rages on. The deep-rooted shame that she’s grown so accustomed to since you left plagues her conscience, making her even more disgusted with herself.

After turning over yet again, her eyes land on the picture she has of the two of you propped up on the nightstand. It was taken on your wedding day, that stunning view of the venue paling in comparison to your beauty. A sense of determination washes over her -- determination to make you that happy again someday, in whatever way she can -- and she gets out of bed to collect a few materials. She’ll do whatever it takes.

----

The sound of a car door slamming perks your ears up, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quickly pulling the curtain back, you’re beyond shocked to see Rosé out there, holding something in her hand. Just as you lean in closer to the window to try and see what it is, her caller ID pops up on your phone.

“Come downstairs, please.”

Even with the vast array of emotions coursing through you at the moment, you’re only focused on getting her inside and out of harm’s way.

You nearly knock the door off its hinges with how quickly you snap it open. To your surprise, she’s still standing by her car, but now you can see what she was holding before; a white sign with black writing on it. The words are barely legible with how much it's raining, the dye of the marker horribly smudged, but you can make out: “I’m sorry! I’m an idiot.” It’s like something out of romantic drama.

Before you can even comment on everything that’s happening, Rosé begins the speech that she’s been trying to piece together ever since you left.

She has to raise her voice so you can hear her over the storm. You wonder why she doesn’t just come in, but you think that maybe she’s doing it to show you that she’s willing to punish herself by standing out in the elements. “No words that I say will ever be able to fix the pain that my actions caused. You don’t deserve any of the shit I put you through, and I hate myself for being such a coward. I was too immature to look past my own struggles and just talk to you about them.”

Now, she takes a few cautious steps towards the front door, testing the waters as she scans your face to gauge how you’re feeling. “I guess I just thought I could deal with it like I always do. But losing you showed me how wrong I was; I love you so much, Y/N. I don’t want to end things; I’ll never want that. You’re my world, baby; I’m so sorry that it took me this long to see what was right in front of me.”

How are you to respond to that? Can you trust her? She looks more sincere in this moment than she has in a long time, and that puts you a little more at ease. Her eyes are begging -- pleading -- with you to believe her, and after a moment you step to the side, wordlessly telling her to come in. You don’t even realize that you’re crying until a few stray tears drip onto your shirt, leaving little marks in their wake. She has to restrain herself from reaching out and wiping them away; she has no idea when -- or if -- you’ll be able to forgive her.

Soft pitter-patter of the water running off of her coat echoes lightly across the foyer, serving as white noise for the conversation you’re having. Her sniffles work in tandem with it, and she bites back her sobs in order to get the words out.

“I know this won’t be fixed overnight, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me. I won’t blame you for a second if you can’t forgive me, either. I just couldn’t let you get away without a fight.”

With each new fresh batch of tears that settle in your eyes, you have to work twice as hard to blink them away. “I-I don’t know what to say, Rose. You’re the only person in this world capable of hurting me that badly, because you mean more to me than anyone else. But I never thought you’d treat me like that. Do you know how many times I doubted myself, thinking I did something wrong?” Your tone is bitter now, voice conveying the pain from those months of anguish that you had to endure, and Rosé hangs her head.

“I know that now, Y/N, and I know that I can never take it back. But God, how I wish I could. I’d do anything in my power to take that pain away. It was never your fault; none of it was.”

You know she’s being honest. After seeing the opposite for so long, it’s easy to spot when she’s telling the truth. You nod a couple times, deciding to pull her in for a long-overdue hug. She’s motionless at first, not quite knowing if you want her to return it or not, but the second that you quietly say, “Hold me, Rosé,” she’s scooping you up in her arms like her life depends on it. Her head rests in the crook of your neck, and the two of you cry together, letting all of the pent up frustration and sadness leave your bodies.

After standing there, embracing one another for who knows how long, she pulls away just enough to look into your eyes. Her gaze subtly falls to your lips, but you don’t fail to notice. “Can I?” She asks gently, raising her eyes back up to yours. “Yes.” You utter, nearly swooning as her soft lips brush against your own. You’ve missed them.

Her chilled hands cup your cheeks with purpose, and you can feel water running off the ends of her hair and onto your chest.

She kisses you in such a poetic way: softly, as if you might break at any moment, but urgently, like a lost soldier finally returning to the arms of their lover. She wants to make you feel how sorry she is, how much she loves you, and this seems like the perfect place to start.

“I love you, jerk,” you say through your tears, brushing your thumb along her cheek as you look into her eyes.

“And I love you, angel.” She picks you up, spinning you around a couple of times before setting you back down on your feet.

After a moment, you glace at the window. “Shhhh, wait. Do you hear that?”

She cocks her head to the side as she listens closely for any potential noise that you might be talking about, but she hears nothing. “No? I don’t hear anything…”

“Exactly; the rain stopped.”

“Huh. I guess it did its job, then.” She smiles, silently thanking the universe for working in its wonderful ways. It brought the two of you back to one another, and neither of you can contain your happiness. Maybe you don’t hate storms as much after all...

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linzeestylish · 2 years ago

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💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕

Oh, thank you anon! 💕

[fanfic] In The Length of a Breath - Steve/Bucky, 616!Universe, Space!Mpreg. This is hands-down my favorite thing I've ever written. It's not about the mpreg; it was never about the mpreg. It's a character study, taking advantage of the absolute absurdity of 616 in general and the Bucky Barnes: Winter Soldier landscape in particular, to put Bucky in a situation where he's forced to confront his relationship with Steve Rogers as it stood in 616 circa that period. I've since gotten a number of comments about how this fic feels unfinished, and--fair. I still fully intend on going back and writing a sequel/coda at some point. But to me, at least, its ending makes perfect sense. The mpreg was never the point. It was always about Bucky and his relationships (or lack thereof).

[fanvid] Gimme More - A Hydra Trash (Dance) Party. I won't lie, when I premiered this video at Fanworks, I had a few people tell me that they didn't get it -- and honestly, that is fine, because it has a very specific audience. Gimme More is and remains a love letter: to the Winter Soldier, to the Hydra Trash Party, to all of the things in between. This is an earnest character study of the Winter Soldier set to Britney Spears, and that will pretty much determine early on if that is something you want in your life or not. It remains my favorite of my fanvids, though. Not just for the editing or the pacing, although I'm still proud of that, but for the narrative. It works, exactly like I wanted it to work. I very rarely watch my videos in retrospect without seeing something I want to change, but this one? I love it. I adore it. I wouldn't change a thing.

[fanfic] Run For The Fences - Natasha & Steve, Steve/Bucky. I have edited and revised this fic so much that I literally cannot do it anymore, but honestly, I adore this fic. I'm proud of Natasha's POV; I'm proud of the tenderness of her relationship with Steve. I'm proud of the glimpses we get of Steve and Bucky's relationship and what it looks like once they get to feel safe, more or less, for them. I'm proud of the way the fic is written overall. I wrote this fic because it was how I wanted Steve and Bucky's story to end, and honestly, that has only gotten more true as the MCU has developed (and particularly after Steve's absolutely atrocious End Game finale).

[fanvid] NLYTM (Not Like You Told Me) - Castiel, Dean/Castiel. I'll be honest, it was between this and another Destiel vid, but the theme of this meme seems to accidentally be "creative projects that I love because nobody else does," and this vid fits the descriptor better. This vid was an Id project: I rarely vid Rob Thomas because I know I am too in my feelings to be objective, but honestly, when it comes to Castiel -- it works. He deserved more. He deserved better. And I was able to articulate that without becoming bitter, which I think was a difficult thing to do. I also really like the atmosphere of this vid. I think SPN can be a challenge to vid because there is so much material, and this vid has a very strong emotion to it, which I am and remain proud of.

Thank you again for asking, nonny - this was a fun little project!

#fandom is my fandom #fandom: mcu #memes #fanvids #fanfic

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finalfantasyix · 4 years ago

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Meet The Team Working On A Final Fantasy 9 Remake You’ll Never Get To Play

Final Fantasy 9: Memoria Project is a fan homage like nothing we've ever seen before. “It is no secret that fan projects get shut down all the time,” Dan Eder tells us about Final Fantasy 9: Memoria Project, a fan-driven love letter to the classic JRPG. It isn’t aiming to be a playable remake of the epic adventure though - instead, it’s an aesthetic homage to its timeless world and characters.

It’s somewhat anomalous in the world of community creations, but Eder wants to use this distinct identity to craft something truly special, even if many obstacles stand in the way of making it a reality. But the team keeps moving forward: “Without a doubt, some of the most frequent comments we get from naysayers is ‘have fun with it while it lasts’ or ‘cease and desist incoming’”, Eder explains. “People are understandably skeptical of the longevity potential of yet another passion project. The key difference is that, unlike those projects, Memoria is essentially an elaborate piece of fan art, nothing more - it will have no actual gameplay, will never be released to the public, and is nothing more than a ‘what-if’ scenario. [It’s] no different from any other fan-made piece of artwork. We have never, and will never, make a single dollar out of this project, and are basically doing this for the personal gratification of the fans.”

The genesis of Memoria Project dates all the way back to Eder’s younger years, with dreams of a potential FF9 remake entering his imagination soon after the original game’s launch. That’s no great surprise - millions still regard Final Fantasy 9 as the series’ finest hour. “While it's true that the project really started to pick up steam a few months ago, it wouldn't be a stretch to say I've been planning it since high school,” Eder explains. “I remember scribbling ‘FF9 remake’ on my notepad during classes and writing imaginary new features and battle system mechanics, starting online petitions to remake FF9 for the PS2, sketching drawings depicting scenes from the ‘FF9 sequel’ and whatnot. I could confidently say that my life would probably have been completely different had my older brother not borrowed this game from his friend in the summer of 2000.

“As a non-native English speaker who had never played an RPG up until that point, my first playthrough was a challenging experience to say the least, and I can honestly say that I understood literally nothing of what was going on the first time I finished the game (how I even managed to beat it is a mystery in and of itself). It didn't really matter to me though, since I was absolutely enamored with the incredible cast of characters, jaw-dropping FMV sequences, mesmerizing music, thrilling gameplay, and just the overall atmosphere and charm it exuded at every step. My unconditional love for this game persisted throughout my entire childhood and adult life, and it is one of the central reasons why I chose to become a 3D character artist in the video game industry. In short, this project is my way of thanking this game for everything it has done for me over the past 21 years.”

Eder’s passion for this game can be found across several industry professionals who grew up with games like this and wanted to replicate them, or create something entirely unique to live up to their brilliance. This is very much how Memoria Project found its feet, beginning life as a trivial side activity before blossoming into something infinitely more ambitious. It still has a long way to go, but there’s little urgency to reach the finish line, so the team can take their time and just enjoy the nostalgic indulgence of it all.

“Memoria actually started unofficially as a side project when I reached out to Colin Valek [of] Sucker Punch Studios in early 2020 after I came across his fanart of an environment from FF7,” Eder says. “I had already modeled Princess Garnet, and thought it could be a fun idea to combine our talents to reimagine the opening area of Alexandria. Initially, it was progressing at a snail's pace - we were slowly chipping away at it for over a year without making a lot of progress. While Colin continued modeling the buildings, I created another character - Vivi.”

This glacial pace received a resurgence of sorts in January when the Alexandria scene was finally complete, with Eder and company finally being able to see how much potential the project had if it was opened up to a larger range of creators. “When I posted that WIP screenshot, the response from fellow FF fans was overwhelmingly positive, more than we could have imagined,” Eder remembers. “Very quickly, other people from the gaming industry started reaching out - environment artists, animators, riggers, concept artists. That's when I decided to turn this side project into a full-fledged modern reimagining of the original game, while always making sure to emphasize the fact that this is a non-playable proof-of-concept, since we never have any intention of doing anything to violate Square Enix's copyright. Four months after officially announcing the project, we've grown from a couple of FF fanboys to a huge team of over 20 industry veterans working collaboratively to honor this masterpiece, fueled by our love and adoration for the source material.”

Now, the project has over 20 developers from Sucker Punch, Ubisoft, Rare, Unbroken Studios, and more all diving into this labour of love in their spare time, with composers and voice actors also contributing their talents to help make this glimpse into the world of Final Fantasy 9 worth celebrating. But Eder is aware of being overly enthusiastic, knowing that fan projects like this often doom themselves by undertaking something that isn’t feasible with so few resources.

“One of the most common traps for these kinds of fan projects is being overly ambitious,” Eder says. “Since all of us are actively working in the video game industry, we understand the importance of milestones, short term goals, and taking things one step at a time. For now, we are focusing our efforts on the opening sequence of the game, which mainly revolves around Vivi and his exploration of Alexandria. Where we go from here is still being discussed, but one thing I can say for sure is that Vivi will not be the only main character we're planning to include.” I’m told that Memoria is aiming to look indistinguishable - at least from a graphics perspective - from something you’d see in a triple-A blockbuster, and it seems the team has the pedigree to back that claim up.

Visuals are the entire point after all, since turning this project into a playable piece of media would require far more resources to create. By narrowing its focus, Memoria is able to deliver something special while also hopefully avoiding the ire of Square Enix. “The fact that this is a non-playable project definitely makes it easier for us to tailor the experience in a way that would truly allow the audience to be fully immersed in the world without having to worry about technical limitations,” Eder tells me. “Creating actual functional gameplay is a completely different ball game, one that we never had any intention of even discussing given the copyright limitations. This gives us a lot of leeway with how we are going to portray the world of Gaia in terms of character interaction, camera movement, [and] scene transitions. We have a lot of cool plans for the near future - please look forward to it!”

As for the sad truth of fan projects like this often being wiped from existence by publishers throwing out cease and desist letters, Eder is confident that Memoria occupies a niche where this won’t happen. It’s not a commercial or even playable product - it’s a piece of fan art, albeit an endlessly elaborate one. If the tides were to change, Eder believes companies should welcome the enthusiasm for experiences like this.

“If I were to be completely honest, I think it could be a potentially brilliant decision by Square Enix to do something wildly unexpected and invest in a project like this,” Eder states. “There's a considerable amount of hype, talent, motivation, and pure, unadulterated passion behind it. It's not something I would expect, but I think it could be incredibly helpful in regaining some of the trust and reverence that this legendary company was known for during its golden years.”

(source)

#final fantasy ix #memoria project #final fantasy 9 #ffix: memoria project #article #news #interview #long post #very long post!

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yukipri · 3 years ago

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Bad Batch end of season thoughts/ramble, bc it's been a week and I just wanna get it all off my chest...

(end of season spoilers and very disorganized rambling)

First off, I do want to say that I enjoyed watching the show. It fulfilled its primary purpose: entertainment. It was nice having something to look forward to every week, and even though it wasn't quite what I was expecting, it was fun. The animation was gorgeous, I liked all the references and tie ins. I will likely watch it again, and will watch season 2. This is by no means meant to be a hate post.

That being said, it is critical so please just skip if you're not into that!

The thing is...it takes very, Very little for me to love a clone. He doesn't need lines, or a face, or even a name, and the default is that I will love him. He can even be a little bastard, like Slick, and it's fine. I always want to know more about them, and wish they had more screen time and time in general to develop their characters. So given that we were getting 16 (20 eps total if we count TCW S7 pilot arc) centered around these guys, I was expecting to absolutely adore them by the end.

And I wanted to love the Bad Batch, I wanted to love them so damn much, and I tried. But I think one of the reasons why they never fully clicked for me was that their thing seems to be "we're unique, we never fit in, we're outsiders in our own home, among the people who are supposed to be our own family, and so we've found our home with each other."

Which! That's usually a wonderful message, and not a particularly rare or unique one either for stories! I usually dig these kinds of stories!

The problem here is the extremely unique situation of the clones. They are literally created to be identical, brain washed to be uniform. They must conform, or are killed off by their creators, and their conformity isn't a choice in the slightest, but one of fear and necessity.

Their uniformity is something that they are also entirely aware of--it's unavoidable, they're clones. Once out in the real galaxy, they all strive to find and establish unique identities for themselves, struggling against a galaxy that just wants them to be faceless products. It's a shared struggle, and all they have are each other, and their brotherhood is sacred as a result. Shunning unique identity is the opposite of who a clone is--it's what they all want.

So on one hand, it's understandable that the Batch stuck out (when all others who would have also stuck out were culled, when individuality isn't allowed). It's understandable that they would have yearned for the brotherhood shared by the other clones, and when they couldn't have it, they stuck closer to each other. It's even understandable that they would feel bitter, having experienced bullying at the hands of the other clones (but isn't it also understandable that the other clones would feel bitter that the Batch gets special treatment, when their own brothers with less-than-beneficial mutations were taken by the Kaminoans to never return?).

And so we have this batch of clones, who the Kaminoans call "mutated," but also specify that their mutations are "desirable" (implying what happens to mutations that are undesirable...). They have their own unique unit, in which they're able to improvise and act freely with seemingly little to no oversight, so long as they complete their mission. No Jedi to obey, no nat-born officers who look down on them. In fact, they look so different from standard clone troopers that most of the galaxy probably don't even know they are clones. They have their own ship (personalized), they have their own possessions (which we don't really see any other clones have), they have their own barracks (probably also very unique), and they even have access to superior weapons and armor (most of the Batch, minus Echo, seem to be wearing modified Katarn-class armor which is supposed to be for Commandos. we KNOW it holds up better than standard trooper armor).

So I'm sure they had some unpleasant experiences growing up, and I do get it. But at least at "present" end of clone wars, they honestly seem to be living infinitely better than all other clones? They still need to follow orders but they have more freedom, and perhaps most importantly, they have clear uniqueness that is denied almost all other clones. And yes, some of the clones on Kamino bully them, but we've seen NONE of the "regular" clones that we know to be particularly nasty to them, and in fact it's Crosshair who starts it by calling them "Regs."

And how does the Batch respond to this situation? By acting superior. It's Crosshair who says and it believes this firmly, and I do feel that the others are likely mostly influenced by this, but it's also true that Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech don't really deny this either. They don't like the "regs," they do act like they're "better." Poor Echo, who they repeatedly seem to forget is in the room, and who they call "machine" and such...yikes yo

So I guess the point is, I just really struggled to feel sympathetic towards them, and was already on a kinda eh about their premise. They're marketed as "the special clone squad"--and yet they're not nice to the clones I love. I thought that wasn't great, but also hoped that the series would work towards them understanding the other clones better, and I love character development so that woulda been fine--but, nothing. A glance from Hunter at Howzer. Extended camaraderie from Gregor, who I feel they mostly just tolerate for the mission, other than Echo who genuinely cares.

And on top of feeling not feeling particularly sympathetic towards what I saw as a pretty privileged group of clones, the Batch seems to place primary blame of their woes on the "regs" themselves, who again, honestly seem far worse off! There isn't blame directed at the people who demanded the conformity from the other clones in the first place, that made it so the Batch couldn't fit in. The Batch was modified due to the Kaminoans (and implied specifically Nala Se). She's the reason why they don't fit in. And the Kaminoans are also why the other clones have to be so uniform, why they must fight to be people and not products.

Bitterness and pettiness can be fine in characters. But it's frustrating to see in a group supposed to be competent and elite, especially when those feelings have consequences. Sure, it sucks when someone throws a food tray at you. You can throw food back. It's not an equal reaction to feel no remorse when you shoot that guy dead in a blaster fight, when for all other clones, having to kill another clone is one of the most horrible, tragic things that one can do (thanks, Umbara).

Fives was the only clone to actually point a blaster at Nala Se.

We know Omega has deeply personal history with Nala Se. She was Nala Se's personal medical assistant. We see her cry when she takes off her head ornament that matches Nala Se. We know that being back in the lab gives Omega complicated, and probably not entirely positive feelings. But we barely learn more about this relationship, other than these glimpses.

And I get the feeling that to Omega at least, Nala Se wasn't all terrible. If Omega grew up with mostly only Nala Se for company, she had to have gotten her sheltered outlook on life, and her willingness to help others from somewhere. Nala Se intentionally let Omega go, to be "safe."

I think Omega's adorable, and I do like her. But I wasn't able to fully love her to the extent I wanted to, because there was always the fear that she was involved in the creation and implantation of the chips. She knows about them, she would have been positioned to do so. I want to think she would never, and I was hoping the show would reassure us of that, but it never did. We don't actually know how Omega feels about Nala Se, or even the chips and their presence in other clones. Instead, all we know is that Omega doesn't like "regs."

And again, "they call me lab scrubber," and "I helped put (or am complicit in putting) mind control devices in their heads," are kinda, unequal. Again I hope it's not the case. But it definitely kept me feeling uneasy throughout the show.

It really boils down to I don't trust or forgive Nala Se, and the Batch's lack of stance against her and the other Kaminoans, and clear distaste for their other clone brothers, really puts them in a situation that makes it difficult for me to take their side entirely.

And then gosh, Hunter. During Crosshair's whole "you never came back for me," spiel, I couldn't help but think he's kinda right. He had 15 episodes. Sure, it's difficult to get Crosshair back. But they could have done something. They could have done research. We could have had scenes of them wondering where Crosshair is, discussions on how best to find him, even if that discussion ended in, "but we can't risk it right now." They could have grilled Omega for information on the chips, which they really shoulda done either way, but especially since that knowledge is important to understanding what (they thought had) happened to Crosshair. Instead, they just ran every time Crosshair showed up. The show could have done better to show that they cared, and were trying, instead of just, y'know, doing chores for Cid. One, "I kinda miss him," doesn't really count as working on getting him back, at least in my books.

The sole exception to all of this, of course, is Echo. Who really, he works with the Batch fine, he's a former ARC and can more than keep up. Skillset-wise, he fits in well enough. But this season really made me wonder why he's with them at all. Crosshair's revelation and true feelings at the end of the season were no surprise to me, as they're consistent with what we've seen of him from TCW S7. But for Echo, a former "reg" to have to work with someone like Crosshair...even if Crosshair thought Echo was "different" enough to accept him, those are his brothers that Crosshair thinks he's so superior to, and has no issue speaking disdainfully about.

The increasing tension between Echo and Hunter, Echo's interest in helping Rex, in helping other clones, in doing something...I do hope they reach a point where Echo demands they go help, or he's leaving.

They gave Crosshair a chance, despite the fact that his choices were willing. I really hope Echo can convince the Batch to help save the other clones who don't have a choice. Because even if the Batch doesn't consider them their brothers, they're certainly Echo's. They matter just as much as Crosshair, and I really hope season 2 shows it narratively.

To conclude, again I'm interested in seeing what happens next, and I want answers about Omega and Nala Se. I find it interesting that they tied the facility where they took Nala Se in with the scientist dude collecting data on Grogu in the Mandalorian and those cloning labs. All of this is interesting, but at the same time I feel like it's trying to build up to Snoke/Palpatine stuff in the sequels which...I don't care nearly as much about, but who knows, could be neat ^ ^;

I'm okay with, and have made peace with the fact that the Bad Batch probably isn't the "clones-centric" show I wanted, and that they'll continue their own story, and probably continue to not care much about other clones in upcoming seasons. That's unfortunate, but alright. I'm interested enough in their story too.

But at the same time...I can't help but think man, if they have the time and budget to do a season 2, after seeing what was (or wasn't) accomplished in season 1...I wish they'd also make a Rex/Cody/Wolffe/"regular clones" show, because in the end, if you're going to do a "clones show"....that's who I want to see most.

If you got to the end, thank you for reading, and being an ear to my ranting ^ ^; Again this is literally just getting this off my chest. If this take isn't one you agree with, please just ignore. For people who did fall in love with the Batch, I'm happy for you, and regret that it just couldn't happen for me. But, I'm hoping that S2 will change my mind, but we'll just have to see! ^ ^;

#the bad batch #bad batch #YukiPri rambles #really i'm not interested in a debate i just want to ramble

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random-imagines-blog · 4 years ago

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Hysteria {Henry Wu x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2793 Summary: You’re an up and coming scientist hand chosen by Henry Wu to be a part of his team at Jurassic World. But you feel for him in ways more than a boss and a team member should. Warnings: Contains spoilers of Jurassic World; and Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

You had the feeling that something bad was going to happen the whole time that you were working on the top secret project with Dr. Henry Wu. But you wanted to trust it because you trusted him whole-heartedly. The Indominus Rex was really a huge innovation in genetics, and you were honored to be a part of it. Being one of the younger scientists working inside of Jurassic World meant that you were often skipped over, considered to be too youthful to have the experience needed. But Dr. Henry Wu took a chance on you, and you had proved yourself, becoming one of the head scientists on the project. And you were very grateful to him for doing that. Maybe grateful wasn’t the right word. You weren’t an English major, but perhaps the word you were looking for was smitten. That seemed to fit the ticket.

Who wouldn’t be attracted to an older, very intelligent and handsome mentor? You admired his brain as well as that crooked smile that he rarely had in the lab but seemed to give to you a couple of times a month. With his serious demeanor, you couldn’t ask for much more than that. The only thing that you didn’t fully admire was his constant need to put the work in front of lives. Not only those of the other scientists, working you day and night on little sleep to get a project done and not alerting others to what sort of DNA he was extracting. But those of the patrons of the park. He wasn’t in it for the people, the fame, the money. He was in it for the creativity. The mad genius, some of your colleagues would call him behind his back.

But as long as things continued on smoothly, things should be fine. As long as the Indominus Rex remained in it’s area, things would be okay. As long as nothing in the slightest went wrong... things should be okay.

But chaos started to happen. Voices came over the loud speaker that the project you had been working on with Henry, the very dangerous dinosaur that you had created - it was loose.

Henry didn’t want to go. After he had been told that there was a helicopter ready to take you and him off to safety, he stayed standing around, watching the chaos. “Dr. Henry, we really should go,” You said, putting your bag with your few personal belongings and some scientific equipment over your shoulder. It seemed unlikely that you would ever be returning here. All of your work - and it was just going to get killed. You couldn’t bear to watch, though you understood how much of a danger the Indominus Rex could be if out of its confines. Safety first, science second.

“All of this ... exists because of me,” He said, looking at the monitors which would probably be shut down very soon. “And now, it will be gone.”

“But think of what else that you could create out there,” You said, watching as the last of the other scientists left. You would be missing the flight if you stayed much longer. And this was not a place you wanted to be if your creation was still wandering around. “But you’re not going to have a chance to if you don’t get your butt on that chopper!”

He sighed, but he did eventually give you a smile. “Go and save me a seat,” He asked and you nodded, taking his permission to leave. But as you walked through the white halls, then ascended the staircases, you wondered if he was going to pull some sort of stunt. Try to stay behind and save all of his work. The chopper was almost filled, and you jogged towards it, a man extending his hand to help you aboard. You took it and took your seat, noticing that there was only one left. You put your bag on your lap, secured your seatbelt and waited, just hoping, just hoping...

Eventually the door to the roof opened, and Wu came jogging, only a single bag with him. He seemed a little out of breath as he approached the chopper, and this time you were the one that got up and offered your hand, pulling him aboard. He collapsed next to you, wiping a bit of sweat off of his forehead. “Thanks,” He said, and you nodded in response.

You continued to work with Dr Wu on many different projects, but most of them concerned dinosaurs. You had different agendas, him wanting to see how far that he could take science, and you having an actual love of the dinosaurs. You grew very invested in each and every one, so the events that happened at Jurassic World had broken your heart. But at least you still had your specimens, your DNA, all of it, in the lab. You practically lived there now, as did Henry. Living off of take out and taking turns sleeping on a small couch took a bit of a toll but you wouldn’t change where you were for the world.

“Did you finish the chinese food?” Henry asked. You looked over to see that he was deep in the only fridge that was for personal use, his rear sticking out beyond the door. You gave a grin at that, took out your cellphone and snapped a picture because the image was just a little too adorable for the otherwise-grumpy scientist. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, I did, sorry,” You said, putting your camera into the pocket of your ever-present white coat before he caught a glimpse of it. “Maybe we should go out for dinner tonight. How long has it been since you’ve set foot outside?”

The fact that Henry was silent, and actually had to think about it, made up your mind. “There’s an Italian place just down the street, we could walk? I know I need the exercise.”

“I guess I could use a break,” Henry said, and his stomach gurgled in response making you laugh. “I’ll be ready in .. twenty minutes?”

“Sounds good to me,” You said with a nod, and went to your own personal little cubby where you kept your belongings. Your heart was beating fast as you looked through your clothes to find something a little more special than what you usually threw on to be around the lab. Pushing past all of the white clothing, you spotted a bit of color. The blue dress that you wore to the opening of Jurassic Park years ago, still in it’s dry-cleaning bag. You unzipped it and took a look at the fabric, feeling it between your fingers, wondering if it still fit. Would it even be appropriate for something like this? Would Henry even notice that you were wearing something that wasn’t your usual lab attire?

So many questions went through your mind, and cut through a big chunk of time. Henry would be ready soon. So, as they say in science - fuck it. You pulled your coat off, and put on the dress, only to find that it fit absolutely perfectly, just like it had all of those years ago. You weren’t even sure why you had kept it for so long. You never had reason to dress up anymore - but then along came Henry, and though he wasn’t concerned much about what humans looked like, you wanted to have something just in case there was a chance. This was that chance.

You didn’t have the right footwear to go with it though, so you went with your walking shoes. They were better than your bulky lab boots anyway. A quick brush of the hair, a touch of chapstick, and you met up with him in the hallway. And to your surprise, he had dressed up somewhat as well. And if you didn’t know any better, you might think that he was blushing, just a little. “Are you ready?” He asked, in his usual upfront and business like manner, making you snap out of any hopes that you had. You gave a nod, and together, went out to the restaurant, staying close for warmth against the wind that had picked up in the last few minutes.

The dinner had gone well, and for the first time, he seemed to open up about things other than work. You’ve never heard about his childhood before, but he was giving you little glimpses into it. He had always had an affinity for science, and had originally thought about becoming an actual MD. But a trip to a museum and seeing the pictures of dinosaurs had opened up something in his brain, had started him on that course. You opened up a little about yourself as well, but you had never been as guarded about your life before work as he had been. Your own love of dinosaurs had come when you had heard about Jurassic Park. And you had made it your mission since then to work under the highly esteemed Dr. Henry Wu, and you completed that mission.

“It’s been an honor working with you,” He said, lifting his glass of wine to you.

“The honor is all mine,” You said, lifting your glass.

Things didn’t change with your new job. You followed Henry, as you would have to the ends of the Earth since you were completely crazy about him against your better judgment, to work for a private company. Creating dinosaurs for auction. God, it felt so wrong. You thought that every time that you ran tests, or experimented with the DNA. You were creating things that could destroy the world as you know it. Not just an island. Not just a park. But the entire world since you were on the mainland.

And things went wrong. The prototype was apparently sold, but then the dinosaurs began to escape because of a couple of former co-workers, and people around you were dying. Again.

“I think we need to stop, Henry,” You said from the driver’s side of the car that you stole, speeding away from the mansion, probably breaking about fifty laws while peeling out of there. And your heart broke at all of the lives that had been lost because of you and Henry. Because of what you had created. “All that we’re doing is killing people. We’re creating life, and then it’s getting destroyed so it’s barely even life at all.”

Henry remained silent for a couple of minutes, his head against the window, looking out in front of you. You knew you were lucky to have even gotten him out of there. All he wanted to do was run to the basement, where the dinosaurs were, and get the samples. But when you heard the bidding for the prototype, your brain had just completely given up on all of the work. You just couldn’t put yourself, or other people, in that position anymore.

“Pull over,” Henry requested, pulling you out of your thoughts. You still figured you were too close to the mansion to be anywhere near safe, but you moved the car to the shoulder of the road nonetheless. You kept the key in the ignition but you turned the engine off to save gas. Or electricity, you didn’t even know - you didn’t check what kind of car it was.

“What is it?” You asked, looking over at him. His face was awash with orange light from the streetlight above him. He looked stressed, he looked a bit angry even.

“Without my work, I am nothing. That is something that you could never understand-”

“No, you’re right,” You interrupted. “That is something that I just - can’t understand. And I don’t even want to try. You put work above everything else, including the lives of other people. Including your own life. Like, Henry, do you not understand how lucky we are that we just got out of there? So many people didn’t make it.”

“I realize that-” Henry said, then it was like the enormity of the situation hit him. “They’ll be loose.”

“And it’s going to be a whole different world because of that,” You said with a frown. “And as the creator of these things... we’re probably going to be hunted down and put before the grumpiest jury to ever exist.”

“Fuck,” He said, rubbing his lips, running his hands through his hair. He was jittery, and it wasn’t from coffee. It was from the realization of what he, and you, had done.

“So we really need to get out of here and find somewhere to bunker down for a while,” You sighed. You wished you knew of a place where you could go, but nowhere would be welcoming to you right now. Your only intention was to drive and drive and drive and hope that the police were too busy with dinosaurs to realize that you were in a stolen car. As far away from here as possible.

“Shouldn’t we separate?” Henry asked. “It’s me they’re going to be coming for. You can still get out of this...”

“I’m just as responsible as you are - and I don’t have anyone else, Henry. And - I don’t want to be with anyone else. I’ve gotten quite adjusted to your company,” You admitted.

He looked at you for a long while. You could feel the weight and the intensity of that gaze, and it made you feel uncomfortable. Your fingers tapped against the steering wheel, waiting for him to say something.

“Let’s drive,” He said, and you nodded. It wasn’t what you had wanted to hear, but it was better than nothing. You started the car back up and continued along the road, watching as the sun started to come up on the horizon. People would be waking up and turning on the news soon. And their lives would be changed forever.

“I don’t know where we’re going,” You said, as you came to a stop at a red light. You looked over at Henry again only to find that he was still looking at you. He looked like he wanted to say something, which was an odd expression because he rarely ever took the time to stop and think about what was going to come out of his mouth. “What are you thinking?”

“That it doesn’t matter where we go,” He said, slowly. “I want you there.”

Your heart started to beat again, quickly, though it had just started to slow down to a normal pace. I want you there - those words would be echoing through your mind forever. “I love you.”

You hadn’t even meant to say it but it slipped out. Everything was coming out tonight. Dinosaurs, the disgusting and greedy nature of men to own everything - and the truth.

“You’re young,” Henry said after a moment’s silence. “I am nearly twice your age.”

“Exactly. I’m young, and you still took a chance on taking me on as a part of your team. That means that you saw something in me that a lot of people just refused to look at. But it’s okay if you don’t love me back, Henry, I can live with that. But I guess I couldn’t live without not telling you.”

Henry was not an emotional person. In fact, he was either very concentrated on his work, or he was frustrated from not being consumed by his work. It was one or the other, so you weren’t expecting much to come from him. He had even tried to give you a logical reason not to care about him. But love wasn’t the most logical thing in the world. He knew that from experience. You were in diapers while he was getting his PhD. He had no reason to be feeling things things for you. But yet...

“I love you too.” He said. And he reached out and put his hand on top of yours on the center console, his rough hands - cut up from broken beakers over the years - felt warm against yours. You took a glance over at him, feeling touched that he made even that little move.

The light turned green. You kept looking at Henry, up until there was an angry honk from a car behind you. You laughed and pressed down on the gas pedal, running away from your problems, and going towards the brand new world.

#Henry Wu #Henry Wu x reader #Henry Wu oneshot #Jurassic World #Jurassic World oneshot #other #other oneshot #request #henryw

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darkmindsotome · 4 years ago

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Soap and Sun

Title: Soap and Sun

Fandom: Love365 Masquerade Kiss

Pairing: Yazuru Shiba x MC

Word count: 3,464

Warning: NSFW Smut

Written by: darkmindsotome

Summary: When a long awaited date threatens to derail under the summer sun a spur of the moment idea triggers an even steamer time together than planned.

Tagging @voltage-vixen as requested. Prompt #9: Car Wash Featuring the MC/LI as the Sponge

---

When I thought of summer in London, I hadn’t thought of much else other than spending some quality time with my boyfriend.

He’d been playing the part of visiting lecturer at his old alma mater, Oxford University. His curriculum was well thought out and methodical, just like the man himself. Every time I was been able to catch one it was like attending a sell-out concert. I was always blown away by how he could turn a baffling topic into something easier to understand. In the end, you were never left feeling like you were stupid and it was amazing to watch him in his element. A true genius craftsman with genuine love and passion for his work.

Still, I would have liked to have seen him a bit more than I currently was. Silently chastising myself for the selfishness of that thought I tried to push it aside. I was once more in England and as per our agreement, we were on a date. That alone was enough to re-energise me.

It wasn’t much but we had decided to go for a drive in one of his cherished Bugattis. The sleek lines of it cut through the English countryside like a hot knife through butter. This was the kind of escape he liked. It wasn’t any more rushed than he wanted it to be. Just him, the open road, and his car. I watched with relief from the passenger seat as I could see the layers of stress and fatigue melt away from him.

“Are you sure this is all you wanted to do?” He had his usual blank poker face on as he asked. The only thing giving away how sceptical he was, was his tone.

“Yeah. I enjoy spending time with you Yuzu. I don’t really mind what we are doing as long as we can be together.” The answer came quickly to me and I enjoyed the brief moment where I could see his stoic mask slip and get a glimpse under it.

“You can be very direct at times.” He sighed.

“Does it bother you?” I didn’t candy coat things when talking to him. I had tried that when were first became an item and found out the hard way that subtle approaches would not be to anyone’s benefit in this relationship.

“No.” There was a faint smile on his face whether he was aware of it or not.

A comfortable silence fell over the interior of the car as it twisted and turned down roads that were becoming increasingly more rural and isolated.

“Where are we going anyway?” I decided to break the silence and ask as it had been about twenty minutes now and there was still no clue as to where Yuzu had planned on taking me. When I suggested just going for a drive and he had agreed, I thought he would have a destination in mind, not just aimlessly driving around the rural backroads of England for the afternoon.

“You’ll see when we get there.” I watched his dashing profile my eyes naturally falling to the strong hands the gripped the leather wheel. Those slightly rough calloused fingers I adored and missed so much, flexing against the wheel I was suddenly jealous of. Averting my eyes back to the passing scenery I tried to push away the ideas that would send me into dangerous waters.

Tall old trees lit up with the sun produced a mottled canopy of light as Yuzuru expertly drove his car through a nearly completely hidden entrance from the main road onto a small dirt track. For a car not designed to be an off-roader, the ride was still smooth. I found myself wondering if that was a testament to the Italian engineering or his driving. A smile came naturally to my face and I couldn’t stop it. Before I met Yuzuru the idea of engineering, cars, driving… any of it would have been far from my mind. Now the ideas came to me easily. He really had changed me.

“What is it? You have a grin on your face.” He frowned.

“Am I not allowed to be happy when I’m with you.” I teased watching as his expression relaxed once more.

“As long as it’s only with me. We’re here.”

He stopped the car in a clearing that was right next to the three S’s old school hideout. The shabby little cottage stood there in the overgrown garden looking like something from a fairytale. It was just as I remembered it the first time I saw it with him.

“What happened to ‘no girls allowed'?” I couldn’t help but ask, surprised by his choice of destination.

“You would rather go somewhere else?” He still had the keys to the car in one hand and the handle of the door in the other. He was looking at me with those dark eyes scanning me like code on a screen.

“No, it’s just why here?” I didn’t really have a location for our date in mind I had decided to leave it up to him. That didn’t mean I wasn’t a little shocked by his choice.

“I wanted to show you something. You remember that old failed power supply?” His hand fell from the door allowing it to partly close on us both in the vehicle.

“The hyrdo—” I started to answer only to be cut off.

“Hydraulic turbine.” For some reason, he looked bashful. A man who didn’t show much emotion was looking at me with a faint blush making my heart skip in my chest. “I got it working and I thought- I wanted you to be the first to see it.”

“Really?!” I was stunned.

“I’ve never known someone to get so happy over such things.” He chuckled.

I had assumed he would be showing his success to his two best friends before me. I was perhaps a little too excited to find something where I topped the list of people ahead of Kazuomi or Kei when it came to Yuzuru and his work.

“You’re one to talk Mr Space Screws.” I tried to distract from my over the top reaction by childishly reminding him of when he got so passionately attached to something it nearly ruined a date.

“True. Come on it's over here.” My childish retort didn’t work. He didn’t react to it at all and simply nodded accepting what I said as the facts they were and exited the car leaving me to scramble behind him to catch up.

A small waterway near the rear of the cottage was sparkling in the sunlight. The fresh clear water was turning the fossil-like shell structure I had seen on my last visit. Watching it spinning it looked even more amazing than before.

What once could have been little more than a garden sculpture was now functioning. Scooping up water and cascading it between its two halves speeding it up and pushing it out in a strong even flow.

“I can’t believe you got it to work.” I was mesmerised watching the two halves turning the craftsmanship of the original I had seen had been adjusted to something more streamlined and very much in keeping with the minimalist nature of its creator.

“It wasn’t easy. The stream here isn’t very large so I had to calculate the flow rate and adjust the design to accommodate it. Amping up the flow inside the device allows for more energy to be produced and stored so power is produced. Then there was customising the old generator for the cottage to take the charge and convert it for use.” He was explaining and becoming the animated Yuzu I remembered. He was a man typically of few words but give him a topic he loved then his passion would allow him to ramble on for hours.

“It’s wonderful.” The words barely left my mouth before the spinning shells in front of us gave an ear-piercing shriek and ground to a halt. “What happened?”

“I think one of the bolts might have slipped its casing. Or maybe…” Yuzuru was already moving from my side towards his creation before pausing to look back at me his posture slumping as he mentally chastised himself for losing focus on our date. “Sorry, I-”

“It’s fine. You want me to go make a cup of coffee while you figure it out?”

With my reassurance that I accepted his desire to correct the problem he nodded and fell silent. It might not be how I wanted the day to play out but this was the man I loved and it wasn’t like we weren’t together. Draping his jacket over a nearby branch as he bent over his invention inspecting it.

His passion came with an extreme immersive focus. It was one of the things I found endearing about him. How he showed me glimpses of himself where his guard dropped. This was Yuzu in his element. The kid in the candy store. I went inside the cottage removing the door key from its hiding spot under a planter.

Time ticked by the hours of the sun passing with every stroke of the hand on the clock. It might be a part of him I was used to by now but it didn’t mean that I wasn’t a little bored. Exercising to kill time in this heat was not my idea of fun. Still, my body felt kind of itchy wanting to move. I was washing up the cups when my eyes fell on the Bugatti parked outside and I had an idea.

Yuzuru normally paid a valet to clean it. Maintaining its showroom condition was something of a source of pride to him as an owner. It couldn’t hurt to give it a little wipe down myself right? I could get rid of the dust on it and cool off in the process.

The lukewarm water swayed in the bucket as I carried it outside. I had found a new sponge and even some car shampoo in a cupboard. It was several years old but it was going to be better than trying to use dish soap.

I hooked my hair up high at the back and pinned it there with a couple of chopsticks I found in a draw in the kitchen. I’d already abandoned my dress in favour of a pair of shorts and a t-shirt I found in Yuzu’s old bedroom. I had to pull the drawstring at the waist to get the shorts to fit and the shirt was massive. Rolling the hem, I knotted it at the back turning it into a makeshift crop top. Happy with the adjustments to my wardrobe I plunged my hands into the bucket and got to work.

The soap lathered quickly oozing between my fingers as I squished the sponge and carried it over to the car.

It took some time but the turbine was once more turning freely and working. He frowned as he looked at his watch, thankful for its water resistance and realising how much time had passed. This was supposed to be a date and here he was once more lost in his own world. As he walked back to the cottage, he only hoped Mc hadn’t gotten so bored with him that she’d left.

Musing over the fact that he wouldn’t blame her if that was the case he stumbled upon a rare sight and his heart skipped such a beat it felt like it had landed in his throat. Mc dressed in his old school gym gear, his car and one of the most dazzling impromptu foam parties he’d ever thank a God for providing.

For all the fact it wasn’t the first time I’d ever washed a car before I still forgot how hard it was to reach all the parts of the roof. No matter how hard I stretched I kept coming in contact with the side of the wet soapy Bugatti and not actually reaching the missing points on the roof with my outstretched hand and sponge.

It wasn’t until a hand enveloped mine taking the sponge from it that I even noticed Yuzu was back.

“What are you doing?” His question felt absurd so I decided to joke.

“Hunting elephants.” I tried to turn only to find myself pinned to the side of the car by him. His tall frame easily overpowering me. “I’ll ask you the same what are you doing?”

“I thought you were trying to tempt me. I’m just playing along.” His mouth was hovering near my ear and the grip on my hip was flexing like his hands had done before on the steering wheel. Large strong hands began kneading at my body like it was pasta dough.

Shamelessly I went limp against him. The weather was too hot for me to bother thinking of fighting back as usual. Our little games of cat and mouse we both enjoyed was a distant idea for another day. I let his hand travel further round to the ties at my waist, those skilled fingers loosening the shorts with ease.

All the time I remained “helplessly” pinned to the car by his body and his other hand sliding up my arm and pulling the chopsticks from my hair letting it tumble free.

“So compliant. That’s not like you at all.” He gave a dark chuckle that sent a chill down my spine. I couldn’t let that go and turned to give him a piece of my mind.

“I’ll have you know I--” Words died the instant I met that dry ice gaze. His dark eyes were an inky black reflecting only me and all hope I had of putting up a front with him melted in that passionate heat.

“You what?” He held me frozen in place that smirk on his lips felt very like him at a time like this. Yuzu always became a tease when things were taking a steamy turn. “You know you missed several spots?”

He pulled back his heat leaving me feeling the cool, dampness of the clothes I was standing in. I felt my body betray me with a whimper I barely silenced.

“I can’t reach all of it.” I knew I was pouting but right now this had been the closest contact we had had in a while and I was far from wanting to play coy. “Can you help me?”

Holding out the sponge to him I gave it a squeeze letting the suds run across my skin and smiled watching his adam’s apple bob under that thin infuriating turtleneck of his. Without a word he pulled his top off exposing that mass of well-toned muscle and lean physique, he worked hard to maintain with his demanding job. It was my turn for my throat to go dry as he took the sponge and loaded it with soapy water from the bucket.

“Come here.” His command had me moving automatically and I watched him slap the wet sponge on the bonnet of the car. “Take it.” I did as I was told only to feel my body pulled back by my hips. “I said take it.”

“I’m trying but you’re not helping.” My complaint was indignant but still playful. His hands were running over my thighs delving into the fabric of the shorts from below pushing them higher exposing more of my legs to the world.

“I can’t help until I see where you need my help.” His breath was like a vapour at this point. His body was burning up and I could feel the pressure of his desire against me. My grip on the sponge grew limp all I wanted was to be with him now the car be damned. “What giving up before the job is done? That isn’t like you.”

“Mmm, Yuzu.” I ignored how in control he was and was willing to blame the heat of the day for the fire swelling inside me and how I rubbed my ass purposely against him. It was an invitation he was all too willing to answer.

In a flash, my arms were pushed high over my head the water of the sponge ran in a river over the bonnet soaking through my shirt between my breasts. His hands removed the shorts and underwear in one fast motion like he was removing a band-aid. Even with the lack of breeze outside, I shuddered at the exposure.

With one hand reaching down to burry his fingers inside me he used the other to reach up over me taking the sponge and pushing it around me. The wet sounds from me and the squelch of the sponge in my ears had me squirming under him. The different places the water touched on my skin felt like he was running his tongue all over me and I arched my body into his firm chest as he covered me.

“I don’t think this is going to cut it.” He denounced the sponge. holding it high over my back and squeezing it dry over my exposed skin before tossing it from the car and flipped me over. My body felt limp in the heat but I managed to remove the painful knot of the wet fabric at my back and hitch myself up a little higher on the car so I was at a better angle.

He let out an appreciative guttural moan that sounded far more animalistic than usual.

“You like cleaning the car then huh?” I teased with what was left of my composure.

Yuzu moved to between my thighs soundlessly and dragged his hot tongue in a long slow swipe through my folds. I tilted my head back blinded by the bright sun and in total disbelief that we were even doing this. When had I become so into sex that this was my life? Did I care? I glanced down and was met with his eyes staring at me from over my pubic mound. He sucked on that bundle of nerves and gave me a little nip on the inside of my thigh.

“What are you thinking?” He asked as he played with his fingers inside me. Scissoring them moving both fast and slow.

“Y-you. I was t-t-thinking about you Yuzu.”

My reply had him smiling and he then removed his hand and grabbed both my ankles dragging me down the slippery metal towards him.

“You know one of the best things about cleaning a car?” I was stunned speechless. There was something devilish about him that I didn’t see often. He was always passionate with an endless sex drive but this was new. He leaned over me his face in front of mine blocking out the sun making it hard to see him. “It’s the getting it dirty to start with.”

Before my eyes could adjust to see him clearly I felt a familiar suffocating pressure from below as he filled me up with his length. With every roll of his hips, it had me bouncing against the bonnet. The water trapped under me foamed with the fabric of my shirt and moved me around in unpredictable ways. The even rhythm from him coupled with my body's unrulily movements thanks to the lubrication of the soap on the car had me reaching the edge faster than normal.

“Ah! Yuzu… I … I’m so close.”

He seemed to speed up and target all the parts of my body he knew I liked. Thanks to the clinging shirt, my nipples were clearly visible and found their way into his mouth where he nipped at them with his teeth. He used his mouth to cover the exposed patches of my torso playing a game of hide and seek with the wet fabric driving my mind further to oblivion.

Right when I thought I was going to reach my limit, he stopped. He left himself inside me but refused to move. I mewed and looked up at him. He was panting, sweat dripping over him. I tried to move my own hips to get more but he just remained still looking at me.

“Yuzu?” I was confused. Why had he stopped?

“I love you Mc.” His confession was quiet but touched my heart as clearly as if he had screamed it.

“I love you too Yuzu.”

“I know.” He picked up the movement as if he had never stopped. The devilish smile on his face replaced by an erotic pleasure mask that had my own heart soaring.

Under the summer sky in an isolated part of the English countryside, we connected over and over again. Our cries and moans melting into the nature surrounding us. Our love and passion driving us forward burning hotter than the sun long after it had set.

---

#summer of smut #summer of smut content creation challenge

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acatnamedpusheen · 4 years ago

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Not Alone (F/M)

Pairing: Jaebeom x Reader

Genre: Fluff/Soft smut, oneshot

Words: 2,264

Summary: Jaebeom invites you for a late night date at his newly opened photo exhibition. However, you were completely oblivious to the big surprise he had prepared for you, which left you speechless and made you fall for him all over again.

A/N: Yay I finally posted my longest fic so far! Took me 3 days to write and honestly I thought it was mindblowing when i was working on it for some reason, but I read it again yesterday and I was like “meh”. Anyways, the plot is quite good, so I hope you enjoy it, while I work on your requests! ^^

“Meet me at the cafe at 10:30 tonight" was Jaebeom's message you'd gotten earlier that day, inviting you for a late night date at the cafe which held his newly opened photo exhibition.

The chilly October night breeze made you tighten your jacket around your torso as you reached the small cafe at this quiet side of town. A place that would normally be left unnoticed had it not been for Jaebeom's exhibition. You could only imagine how many fans were gathered there during opening hours, but now there was this calm peaceful aura enveloping the whole building.

Walking through the front door that you figured out was left open for you, your eyes began wandering around. You knew very little of what he had been preparing, having only seen some of the photos he would be using, him not wanting to spoil you the concept.

Honestly you could have never expected anything different from Jaebeom. This was not your average photo exhibition: No fancy frames carefully arranged in clear white, or even dark walls under bright lights. There, you had photos hanging from strings on the ceiling, others being scattered on the wooden floor and some glued on the windows. The walls were plain concrete and looked as if they were once covered with proper paint. It all created an unfiltered, grunge vibe and that was Def, that was Jaebeom.

Lost in this magical aura surrounding you, each photo was now telling a story. Photos from his time on tour last year, which gave you the opportunity to catch small glimpses of life through his eyes, understand the little and unexpected things that inspired him.

"Alone" you traced the black logo on the wall with your hand, smiling bitterly, thinking how Jaebeom was for the most part still a mystery to you. How you hoped you could always be enough for him and wished you were able to take all the burdens off his shoulders.

"There you are" a familiar voice from somewhere behind you made you jump slightly. Turning around you saw him, simply standing there, yet seemingly glowing among his creations, his passion.

"What do you think?" he asked, quickly glancing around while casually walking closer to you, hands in the pockets of his baggy pair of jeans, an oversized white long sleeved shirt completing his outfit for today.

"It's amazing, really, I'm speechless" you spoke excitedly making him smile, his eyes turning into little crescents. You loved that, it was his most sincere smile, the one you knew was coming from deep within his heart.

"I could have never imagined the concept you were planning, yet this is absolutely representative of you." it was your turn to walk closer to him, smiling. The gap between the two of you almost nonexistent. You rested your arms on his shoulders and took a moment to lock eyes with him, no words just his eyes on you and yours on him.

He didn't miss the chance to snake his arms around your waist as he leaned closer, if that was even possible, catching your lips in a sweet and soft kiss, that had you both longing for more. Something about making out surrounded by his photos in the space he had so diligently arranged, intoxicated you, heightened your senses to the maximum.

Pulling away you gazed at him mesmerized by his impact on you.

"So how about we go get some drinks to celebrate your exhibition? I mean, the night is still young." you suggested as you slid your palms down stopping them on his chest.

"I've been meaning to ask you something...That's why I invited you here actually...besides showing you the exhibition I mean..." he was messing up his words, which Jaebeom only did when he was shy or nervous in front of you.

"What is it, baby? Tell me, you're making me nervous." you chuckled and caressed his cheek with your thumb.

You saw him searching for something in his pockets then getting down on one knee in front of you. The moment your mind put two and two together, your heart skipped a beat.

"Jaebeom, what ar-" you never finished your sentence as he opened a small box before you. You gasped, eyes widening, your hands flying to cover your mouth. This was really it.

"Because of you I'm not alone anymore. Will you marry me Y/N? I can't imagine my life without you by my side." he was looking at you with such sincerity, such adoration, that had you melting.

"Oh my God-" you where cut off by a sob as tears were suddenly rolling down your cheeks. "Yes, God yes, I will marry you Jaebeom" You kneeled down too, unable to stop crying no matter how hard you tried to collect yourself.

He took your shaking hand and slipped on the ring. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the shining small diamond on its top. Taking both your hands in his he helped you get up. Still a crying mess, you tried to hide your face away from him thinking you were ruining the mood.

"Come here" he let go of your hands only to softly cup your face with his, wiping away your tears, his features holding the warmest expression.

"I love you... unconditionally...to the moon and back, hell even to the edge of the universe and back." your voice was shacking at that point but you were beaming with joy.

"You're my everything, Y/N." he smiled sweetly at you before passionately kissing you. His hands stayed on your cheeks while your arms hugged him tightly and rested on his back.

"Any thoughts about what kind of wedding we are going to have?" you asked, having calmed down enough, him walking you to sit on some white chairs nearby.

"Something simple, not many people, just family and the boys. We could do it in spring to have the cherry blossoms." he shared his thoughts with you.

"Woah that would be amazing!" your face lit up with excitement at the thought of the fairytale-like scenery those pink tiny flowers created every year during their season. "I want something like this exhibition, simple and honest, because that's you and that is what makes me fall over and over for you." tears where starting to well up in the corners of your eyes again as you spoke and you were sure there were moments when his eyes were glistening too.

"We have all the time in the world to decide on what we want, but for now I don't want you to cry anymore, ok?" he chuckled as your lips began to tremble, but soon you were able to flash him a smile. Then, you pulled him in for yet another hot kiss, his lips molding perfectly with yours.

"What did I ever do to deserve you, Jaebeom?" you rested your head on his chest while hugging him.

"I could ask the same thing, Y/N." he said as he stroked your hair. "So how about those drinks you suggested?" he spoke again after a short pause and came to look at you. That earlier suggestion of yours completely erased from your mind after Jaebeom's proposal.

"I don't want to go now...I just want to be with you...all night, no distractions, just you and me." Jaebeom was able to decipher your words, his gaze instantly filled with lust.

"Let's get back to my place then, shall we?" he raised his eyebrows, waiting for your answer. By "his place" meaning his apartment overlooking the Han river, that had become your second home, where you'd be moving in soon.

"Wouldn't want to waste another second" you got up eagerly, your hand in his as you walked outside in the crisp night air.

You hailed a cab and the ride seemed torturing slow. The tension between you and Jaebeom growing, with his hand constantly on your thigh.

He'd barely managed to kick his front door shut once you entered the apartment, before you were all over each other. He pinned you against the door, kisses burning like fire and you just wanted more. Soon, his lips were on your neck, hands on your waist, while you ran your fingers through his hair. When he pulled away, you quickly got rid of your jacket, then in between sloppy kisses, step after step towards the bedroom you helped undress one another, clothes scattered in a trail along your way, until you'd reached the foot of the bed in nothing but your underwear.

You climbed on the bed on your knees, back facing him as you moved your hair to your front. Jaebeom knowing exactly what you wanted, came right behind you and started kissing your shoulders, sliding off your bra straps, before you felt his hands unclasping it and throwing it somewhere on the floor. With his lips now just below your ear, his hands moved ever so slow over your body, one resting on one of your breasts, the other one making its way past your abdomen. He was giving you goosebumps, as he began massaging your mound, toying with your nipple, a low moan was bound to leave your lips.

You let out a louder moan when two of his fingers applied pressure on your clothed clit. "Are you enjoying it, my love?" he whispered above your shoulder and you sighed, once you heard that name, that name he called you only during your most intimate moments, that name which indicated he was focusing solely on you.

His fingers working in a circular motion, while his hand moved to your other mound, had you throwing your head back on his shoulder, giving him better access to your neck, which he wasted no time in littering with kisses.

You reached behind, between your bodies to palm his growing bulge, earning yourself a grunt from him.

You kept pleasuring each other, to the point where the arousal became unbearable for both of you. Whines, moans and groans all mixing together, creating an erotic atmosphere.

"Jaebeom I want you, I need you..." you moaned, aching for more. He listened to you, turning you around and lowering you on the sheets all while kissing you deeply for the umpteenth time that night. Within seconds you'd both got rid of your underwear and you were spreading your legs for him to rest between them, once he'd rolled on a condom, propping himself on his forearms on either side of your head.

You moaned in unison when he entered you, one arm traveling down his back, your other hand fisting his hair, while his lips trailed down from your collarbone to your chest. You closed your eyes, already breathing hard when he bottomed out, the feeling of him stretching out your walls was driving you insane.

He began moving yet maintaining a slow pace. "I was thinking...we could go...to Jeju for our honeymoon" it wasn't unusual to engage in small talk when he made love to you and tonight was no exception. "You know...just you, me and the sea" he finished his sentence with a grunt.

"You've...you've already thought about it all?" you moaned then smiled at the thought of him planning everything out in his mind.

"If you don't like that" he paused to kiss your neck as he re-entered you. "we could go...to Paris. After all it is...the city of romance...and I've always wanted to visit it with you." he continued in between moans.

"Well now you're making...you're making it difficult for me to choose" you sighed in pleasure. "But I believe...Paris would be better" another moan left your lips. "I mean...we could go to Jeju anytime, but there...we can be totally on our own...so far away from here" you held him closer to you as if there was still space between your bodies.

"Paris it is then...my love." he kissed you hungrily, his tongue invading your mouth, as his hips thrust forward making you whimper.

"Can we...like get a loft overlooking the city?" you were already daydreaming about the honeymoon.

"Anything you want Y/N" he latched his mouth on one of your breasts and began sucking it, the sensation: euphoric.

"Are you close yet, love?" he mumbled over your skin and moved to your other breaths repeating his previous actions. You hummed in response and ended up moaning because of his tender lips on you.

He picked up his pace and the sounds of the two of you filled the room. The knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter until Jaebeom's release with a deep moan send you over the edge, white blurring your vision. His name, being the only word you could say at that point, fell from your lips over and over.

You were both trying to catch your breaths when he pulled out.

"Do the boys know anything about all this?" you asked him when he walked out the room to get something to clean you up with.

"Yes and you should know they were over the moon when I told them I would be proposing." you both chuckled at his response.

After you were all cleaned up, he came to lie next to you pulling you into his arms under the covers. You focused on his steady heartbeat and soon you were struggling to keep your eyes open. "Goodnight, Jaebeom" you yawned

"Goodnight my future misses Im." he kissed your hair as you snuggled him.

#got7 #kpop #got7creators #got7 jaebum #got7 imagines #got7 smut #jaebum #got7 fanfic #got7 scenarios #jaebum smut #jaebeom smut #got7 jaebeom #im jaebeom #got7 oneshots #got7 fanfiction #got7 fluff #im jaebum

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merryfortune · 3 years ago

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Enter! Muse Duellist: the Heroine Who Fights Armageddon with Song

Written for the 100ships Challenge on Dreamwidth

Prompt #31 Cadet

Ship: Petuniashipping | Gakuto/Romin

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS

Word Count: 5,622

Rating: T

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Tags: Alternate Universe - Magical Girls, Aged Up Characters, Meet Cute, Sci-Fi Elements, Action, Affectionate Parody

AN: The AU is a mash-up of Tokyo Mew Mew & Megaman with other magical girl anime influences but Gakuto/Romin’s relationship is meant to imitate Ryou/Ichigo from TMM and Gakuto & Yuga’s relationship is meant to imitiate Dr. Light & Dr. Wily from Megaman

Yuga shook his head, “You are naive, Dr. Sougetsu,” he chided his dear friend who could only stand there, helpless, as Yuga lectured him, “the future is decided. I can see the end of my Road. The flesh is weak but the mind… the mind is unknowable, infinite. Humans may be finite but I shall not be. Nor shall my creations.”

Gakuto’s hand turned to a fist by his side.

“All our roads shall come to an end and they will be by my design, my creation.” Yuga told him.

Gakuto was unable to bring himself to say something. Not because there was nothing to be said but because there was too much to say. Too much to protest. The future that Yuga saw and desired to bring about was not one of coexistence between forces such as robotics, humans, and A.I. but armageddon. Pure and complete and total armageddon. He wanted to open that box, bring about the apocalypse, shiny and chrome. Yuga thought, at the very least, that it was shiny and chrome. Gakuto only saw rust and endless dust.

It broke his heart but Gakuto knew that he had to be the one to stop Yuga from piling high his monopoly and bringing about this end that he foresaw. But how? If the enemy was inhuman, the solution could only be uniquely human.

Parting ways with Yuga, and with such little time between their verbal and ideological sparring, Gakuto threw himself into art. Literature. Into what was sensitive and poetic; things that couldn’t be perfectly recreated by robotic touch. And in his immense and expansive reading, in every genre and every niche, Gakuto had the epiphany that he was after.

There was an archetypical champion that was trusted instantaneously by the public, adored and rarely ever turned against. Someone who was a paragon of goodness, morality, and put all humanity above themselves for little or more commonly, nothing in return. All because they had an everlasting love inside their heart and a belief in the inherent goodness of mankind. That person, that hero… no, that heroine was, of course, the magical girl.

Gakuto knew what he had to do. The revelation sank deep down to his theatrical bones. He needed to create, to assemble, his very own magical girl. Flashing in his glasses and in his brain, Gakuto already had a name in mind for this cadet to champion the continuation of humanity rather than its end: Muse Duellist.

Racing against his rival who aspired to the end of the world, Gakuto was highly motivated. He threw himself into creating as close to magic as he could using his breadth of scientific knowledge. After all, sufficiently advanced technology was indistinguishable from magic. He embraced those intelligent words from [guy] in the long hours that he slogged to create the perfect frilly armour, the perfect weapons to disarm technology, and so forth.

The only thing that Gakuto could not create, was of course, the girl herself. No, he needed to find her, his Muse Duellist.

He could just harass random young ladies on the street - and Gakuto knew that from experience as he had tried that. He got hounded on by many saviour boyfriends, a few policemen, and even some strong-armed ladies who would have made a brilliant Muse Duellist if only they listened, and believed, in him. The mad scientist on the sidewalk, spouting endlessly about the end of the world.

Yeah, Gakuto wouldn’t want to work with Dr. Sougetsu either, actually, but so went his eccentricity. He had no idea how his beloved Ranze and Rinnosuke put up with him but he was endlessly grateful that they did and were happy to go along with his insane ideas.

But then he saw her on the televisions in the electronics store window display. He was entranced by her music. Gaktuo stood there, enchanted, as he watched this rock and roller on the television slamming on her guitar. She looked like she was having the time of her life; the camera loved; Gakuto loved her. Her smile was wide and sparkling. She looked so good in her high heels and mini-skirt; the partial mesh body-suit and the loose, over the shoulder, 80’s style torn top.

With her wild pinky-purple coloured hair and her bright eyes, Gakuto could all too easily imagine her donning the armour of Muse Duellist. Gakuto had to have her. This… This…

“And that was Roa-Romin with their new hit single! Give it up to Kirishima Romin and her boys!” the announcer rattled off from behind glass.

Kirishima… Romin… Her name was sweet on Gakuto’s tongue. His eyes were all lit up. He had to meet her. How on Earth was he going to manage that? He was some washed up weirdo from the strangest parts of academia. This Kirishima Romin girl was a mega-famous superstar from the reception that she and her bandmates were getting.

So, he did what he did best. He threw himself into yet more research and he discovered something very, very usable about this Miss Kirishima Romin: she was an amateur food critic. She had a very widely known appetite reputed for being humongous and Gakuto didn’t consider himself too bad in the kitchen. Thus, a plan was hatched - and one inspired by one of the magical girl anime that he had watched in the first place in the beginnings of his plan to save the world.

Using what little of his dwindling generational wealth that he had left, and of course the assistance of his beloved assistants Ranze and Rinnosuke, Gakuto set up shop. Literally. He opened Cafe Muse from behind his house and he did his best to spread word of it as far and wide as he possibly could. All so that Kirishima Romin would be attracted to it - and pinging her across various modes of social media about it did help because she did, eventually, agree to come to the grand opening of it.

Kirishima Romin looked so fashionable in a beret and cut-out skinny jeans as she was escorted inside by Ranze, ahead of everyone else who lined up in a queue for the grand opening. She looked around the Cafe. It was a lot more saccharine-looking than she was expecting, she mentioned to Ranze. She sat back casually in a pink metal chair and slung her handbag over the back of it.

“I thought that a newly opened cafe was going to be more upscale than this,” Romin mused to Ranze as she waited hand and foot on her, “but so long as the food was good, I won’t complain.” She shrugged.

Ranze hesitated, “Yes, well, Master Gakuto has always had unpredictable tastes. I wasn’t quite expecting the architectural plans either and I’m one of his investors.”

Romin laughed at Ranze’s humour.

“Would you like anything to order?” Ranze asked sheepishly.

“Oh boy would I.” Romin was already all but slobbering. She ordered a lot of food, much more than Ranze was expecting but she diligently scribbled down every whim that Romin had for her stomach and then excused herself.

Ranze returned to the kitchen, the base of operations for Gakuto, both as chef and as a mad scientist looking to turn this rock star into a magical girl, Rinnosuke slunk out in tandem. He was performing a bit of reconnsanice and of course, he was the waiter and a few guests had already ordered food so that had to be delivered to him. He kept an eye on the one guest that they had been fishing for but his attention was truly hooked by someone else. A familiar face.

Yuga smiled blithely and flagged Rinnosuke down. “Yo.” he said.

“Hello Dr. Ohdo, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Rinnosuke tersely replied, his hackles raising. “Should I go fetch Master Gakuto for you?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just here for a snack.” Yuga said and he drummed his hands on the table in front of him but he was wiggling in his chair, craning his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Gakuto who was out in the back. “Dr. Sougetsu and I had a very heated discussion about our irreparable differences of perspective last time we met, I don’t think it's wise but I'm glad he’s come around. Throwing in the towel, deciding to live the rest of his road to the fullest by opening a restaurant. It's unexpected but he’s always been a weirdo. I used to love that about him.”

Rinnosuke’s expression was dark behind his spectacles but he felt obliged, “Should I take your order, Dr. Ohdo?”

“That would be fantastic, youngest Nanahoshi.” Yuga teased him with a cruel, fox-like smile. “Now, do you guys have any udon or should I just order a strawberry shortcake?”

Rinnosuke gravely took Yuga’s order and scurried off. By the time he arrived back in the kitchen, Gakuto had already realised that his rival in the world’s final fate was here. He blamed himself for attracting too much attention. It was, in hindsight, ill-advised to stir such a hullabaloo but Gakuto was certain it would be worth it so long as he could get Kirishima Romin on board with his plan to save the world.

But how?

Walking straight up to her and asking, Gakuto had learned, was the quickest way to be slapped and disbelieved but deceiving her would be immoral and counterintuitive to his noble goals. It was all very difficult. If only Ranze hadn’t declined; stating she preferred to be the backstage hero, not the heroine on display front and centre amid the fray. They needed someone with a loud and bombastic and friendly disposition, someone exactly like Kirishima Romin.

Wary that he was going to run out of time or that this opportunity would slip through his fingers, Gakuto resolved to act fast. He had been hoping to save this maneuver for later but every episode one had a good, gimmicky little mascot character. It was time to introduce Kirishima Romin to her fateful and adorable little partner: Musa.

Discreetly as possible, Gakuto fed the Tuning Pick to Musa and then slipped over to where Romin was sitting. As soon as he left the kitchen, Gakuto realised that Romin had someone sitting with her. His blood ran cold as he approached her and Yuga.

“Oh, I didn’t realise that you two knew each other.” Yuga said to Gakuto as he inched closer to Romin’s puff pastry perfect table. “I was just saying hi, introducing myself… I’m a big fan of RoaRomin. Are you into them, as well, Dr. Sougetsu? Or should I just call you Gakuto since you don’t seem to be much of a professor these days, running a sweets shop.”

“I was just coming over to thank Miss Kirishima for her patronage. Her celebrity presence has increased our business tenfold from what we were expecting on our first day.” Gakuto said and his heart began to quake as he set down the little, fluffy trinket known as Musa in front of romin; a gesture that Yuga eyed with delight. Resistance, excellent, just what he was expecting. “Here,” Gakuto said, “a small token of appreciation, leftover from my bygone days as a scientist. It has no purpose other than to look cute and hold small items, like car keys, for example.”

“Oh, interesting.” Romin blinked as she picked up the item.

“Its name is Musa, but I suppose you are free to rename it how you please.” Gakuto said nervously.

Yuga cooed at them, “Aren’t you two sweet?” he teased.

“Musa is a cute name, I’ll keep it as is.” Romin replied as she admired the object in question.

It was almost keyring like in that it had a chain link and hoop at the end of it but other than that, it had a fluffy, little body and was a charming pink in colour. It had googly eyes and a cotton ball tail. It was everything that was meant to be cute or adorable, turned into one conundrum of an unidentifiable creature but it certainly served its purpose.

“Well,” Yuga said, “I best be going.”

“It was nice meeting you, Dr. Ohdo.” Romin said.

“And it was good seeing you again, old friend.” Gakuto added, his voice was bittersweet.

“Yeah, see ya.” Yuga said and he gave them both a two finger salute.

He got up and walked away, whistling a little tune to himself, his hands behind his head. The very picture of nonchalance. Meanwhile, Romin and Gakuto exchanged a very awkward look and Gakuto couldn’t take the pressure. He excused himself back to the kitchen, claiming he had much to cook and prepare, namely thanks to her, their current number one customer and Romin laughed half-heartedly. Her reputation, per usual, preceded her.

As Gakuto left the table, he could only hope that Romin would poke and prod Musa until its functions were revealed and Romin’s destiny would be all lit up in a blue hologram. Until then, Gakuto could only hope that everything would turn out alright - and that Yuga hadn’t gotten up to anything awry when they weren’t looking. It was already suspicious enough that he had puzzled out who Gakuto and his team were aiming to make their champion for the future of the world.

Back in the kitchen, Gakuto went through the motions of cooking and preparing food for the patrons to eat. The bombardment of popularity, in any other circumstances, would be seen as fortunate but this place was only meant to be a front for their saving the world efforts so it was more of a hassle than anything else. Still, busying their hands helped distract them from the possibility that Yuga might have something planned.

Throughout the afternoon, Romin single handedly depleted their larder. They ended up closing early because of it but that might have been a blessing in disguise, even if it was an expensive one. Still, within minutes of closing shop, glowing reviews were going out from Romin’s phone which was an appreciated gesture.

Gakuto met her again outside with a wobbly smile, “Thank you again for visiting our humble shop, Miss Kirishima.”

“No problem,” she beamed, chatting idly whilst she texted on her phone; organising for her private chauffeur to come pick her up, “I’m glad I took a chance on this place. Dr. Ohdo was telling me about how good his strawberry shortcake was and he wasn’t wrong. I went for thirds and fourths on it.”

She laughed and Gakuto laughed with her. It was weird to be with her but Gakuto found himself just a little bit infatuated with the rock star in front of him; just like he had been in front of the electronics store, seeing her perform on television for the first time. He took a deep breath.

“And thanks again for this little guy,” Romin said and she took out Musa, letting it hang off the hoop which she had threaded onto her finger, “he’s very cute. I can’t wait to show him off to my friends in the band. By the way, totally bringing RoaRomin ‘round here the next chance I get.”

“We will look forward to it.” Gakuto smiled warmly.

Romin replied with a small smile of her own and the conversation drifted off into silence. Romin was half expecting for Gakuto to disappear back into his own shop behind them but no, he seemed intent on sticking around. It wasn’t creepy, per say, but it was odd. Fortunately, Romin’s phone buzzed in her hand - spooking them both.

“Oh, it's my chauffeur saying he’s about to arrive.” Romin said. “I should get going.” She slipped her phone into her purse.

“Safe travels then, Miss Kirishima.” Gakuto replied.

“Thank you, er, um… I don’t know how to address you.” Romin rambled.

Gakuto didn’t know what to tell her. So he just stood there, awkwardly, weirding Romin out so she took a big, and exaggerated, step back. He waved her goodbye and across the road, he watched a limousine park. That must have been her ride and he really did wish her safe travels.

But she didn’t even make it to the ledge next to this side of the road before she needed such sentiments on her side. The purse that she had slung over her shoulder began to glow - and explode.

It happened in the blink of an eye. Shafts of bright, yellow light branched out from inside the clutch top of the purse and just expanded outward. Romin yelled and screamed as she rid herself of her purse and then there was the bang as something impossible happened. The explosion knocked Romin and Gakuto to their feet. It caused the whole street to tremble; branches on trees came loose and the rumble was felt for miles out.

It was blinding at first. Dizzying, disorentating but when the effects began to wear off, as blurry as that was, it was more than apparent that everyone in the immediate vicinity of Cafe Muse was in great, big danger.

“What is that thing?” Romin yelled as she stumbled to her feet. There were grass stains on her jeans and her wrists felt jarred. Her eyes were wide with defiant fear. “And why the hell is it my phone?!”

A giant monster loomed in front of them. It looked like a smartphone; slick black screen and a phone case on the back, it was even pommed with decorative charms. But there was something else latched onto it, at the top rim beside where the phone charms hung: it looked like some sort of drone had taken hold of it, like a parasite and its host. Thus, it donned abominable arms and legs, ready to rampage, giving a staticky screech.

Gakuto grit his teeth through the horrendous noise. Romin stood there, stunned, by the utter impossibility of a monster looming and screeching in front of her. A monster that had somehow spawned from her phone - and that was definitely her phone case and phone charms.

“I was hoping that Muse would do the explaining, but there’s no time for that.” Gakuto said, his voice projecting far and wide. He ripped off his Cafe Muse apron and replaced it with a lab coat. “Enter! Muse Duellist: the Heroine Who Fights Armageddon with Song! Musa, begin protocol M-U-Five-Three!”

The little animatronic known as Musa began to chirp and chatter. Its little fuzzy wings began to buzz and it revealed the maw that it hid. Romin squeaked in surprise as the little critter tried to escape her finger and it forced itself in her face. It bore its tongue at her and atop its tongue there was a strange, teeny-tiny item that looked like it belonged in some sort of dolly’s playset. It looked like a stick decorated with an… R?

Whatever it was, Musa spat it in Romin’s face and it hit her right across the bridge of her nose. She flinched and she had no idea what was happening next. There was another bright light - white, this time, rather than the yellow of the prior explosion - and then her body was just moving on its own.

The little trinket that had been inside of Musa became a scepter for Romin to wield and from the R-shaped charm atop its crown, ribbons flew out and captured her. The next thing she knew, she was all gifted up in pantyhose and frills. The fashionable, heavy metal style clothes she had been wearing before turned into something truly a one-eighty to her usual.

Romin’s hair, once down, was now up in twin tails adorned with red ribbons. She was wearing a frilly little dress that was pink and white with gold buttons down her sternum. The cherry red high heels were cute though, even if Romin had no idea where any of this wardrobe change came from - or how it had happened at all. She just felt like it happened in an instant, from nowhere but that white light.

Gakuto grinned, “Yes!” he yelled. “Yes, here she is! The magical girl who shall champion humanity and keep us on an eternal road: Muse Duellist.”

“Muse who?” Romin yelped as she scrambled in her ankle breakers close to Gakuto since he seemed to have some idea of what was going on, as insane as it was.

“Muse Duellist, of course, the one who will destroy Dr. Ohdo’s terrible Roads and save the day! The future! The entire world!” Gakuto said and he struck a sharp pose for emphasis.

Romin’s jaw just dropped. She could not take this man seriously at all.

“Now go, Muse Duellist, save us all with your song.” Gakuto said and he pointed at the monster.

The sun was glaring off. It leered and loomed and now that they were making a lot of noise, it seemed more than content to rampage. Merely taking a step forward with its gargantuan body was enough to crack and crater the pavement below.

Romin squeaked, “Play music? Yeah, that I can do. Dunno about that other stuff.” she said.

“I’ll support you as best I can,” Gakuto said and from inside his sweater vest, he drew out a handheld device, “this can detect any robot’s weakness, with just a mighty Scholar Scan, we’ll be able to take it down.”

Romin nodded her head, she had no idea why but she was going along with it. She may as well. It was likely her only option to get out of this crazy situation at all.

“Now go forth!” Gakuto yelled. “Sing your song, Muse Duellist!”

“Okay,” Romin said, her voice completely neutral, “so where’s my guitar?”

Gakuto blinked, “Your guitar…?” he echoed.

“Yeah, I’m lead guitarist, not lead singer, you know that, right?” Romin pointed out.

“But you're in a band, surely you can sing, right?” Gakuto said, blinking again. “Muse Duellist’s entire schtick is that she sings a song that reverberates at the correct frequency to disable and disassemble Dr. Ohdo’s Road.”

Romin blushed, she toyed with the scepter that she held, it was actually quite light-weight and even fun to play with, “I’m tone deaf. I can carry a tune with a guitar, not my vocal chords.”

“Pardon?” Gakuto said in a tiny voice.

“I’m a horrible singer.” Romin reiterated.

Gakuto’s eyes glazed over. He had done hours and hours of research into Kirishima Romin and the band she was a part of, RoaRomin. He learned all her favourite foods, that her blood type was AB, that her zodiac sign was Pisces. He had even happened across her three sizes and her grades even so far back as elementary school. He had scoured dozens of magazines and gossip websites and plenty more too.

Everything that he researched just confirmed in his mind that Kirishima Romin would make the perfect Muse Duellist; he even fashioned the accessory that adorned the Muse Scepter after her initial because of this certainty. Not once did any of these sources that he had inquired into ever mentioned that, apparently, famous guitarist Kirishima Romin was a terrible, no good, horrible singer. It simply did not compute with Gakuto who felt his heart and pride shrink in on themselves.

So, in an even tinier voice than before, Gakuto uttered, “We are so screwed.”

That they were, that they were.

The monster lumbered over and smashed an arm down through where they stood. Romin jumped out of the way, shrieking, but Gakuto was knocked down again. The telephone monster’s fist broke the pavement there, too. Shards of concrete spiked up from the ground. It gave another, awful screech which was raw and staticky.

Gakuto groaned. His pants ripped at the knees and he was seeing stars. Most of them around Romin, his dear Muse Duellist.

Romin felt her heart steel. Gakuto could be hurt. Severely wounded, even. And she had just dashed away like it was nothing, there was something about these clothes, as impractical as they were, which gave her an agility she didn’t realise she had. Gakuto was practically defenseless compared to her. She had to do something. He had entrusted her with this power for some weird, cosmic reason, so may as well use it.

“Hi-yah!” Romin yelled as she surged forward.

She ran towards the monster and hit it with the scepter. She bashed at its back side, over and over again. She grinned whilst doing it, her heart racing as she had an incredibly good time unleashing her inner brutality on it. Totally unafraid of either breaking the scepter or phone which had become the basis for this monster at all.

It was just a shame that it didn’t seem to be doing much at all. Nothing except annoy the monster. It shifted slightly, pulled its arm away from Romin and lunged at her with the other. She yelled as she gave it a great swack, like it was from a baseball bat, and it turned into a gritty parry.

Gakuto held his head and groaned. The Muse Scepter was not meant for close combat but he was suddenly glad that it was reinforced anyway. He knew that bright idea would come in handy for one reason or another.

“Muse Duellist!” he yelled out but his voice had a loose tremble to it. “Use your Maximum Song!”

“Who-? Oh right, me,” Romin murmured as she jumped back from the fray, trying to close in on Gakuto without luring the monster either, she turned her head, “wait, my what?” She took a few more steps back so she could regroup with Gakuto.

Gakuto sighed, “Your Maximum Song,” he insisted, “even if you can’t sing, surely it’ll still work. Put your scepter in front of you, line up your mouth with the R, and sing, Muse Duellist!” He then used that Scholar Scanner of his and lined it up with the monster, like he was trying to take a photo of it.

Romin screwed up her expression. It was a weird instruction but she did it anyway. There was a tremble in her forearms as she aligned her mouth with the R of the Muse Scepter. She swallowed and even though it was against the grain of her talents, she sang a note into the scepter.

Her off-kilter note that she sang warbled through the R but it came out the other side as something else. A weak sonic boom of all things. Her eyes went wide as she managed to shoot her shot though, damaging the side of the monster. But that just made it mad.

The monster shuddered and gave an even grander screech than before. It caused more branches to fall off trees and for tiles on the roof to come loose. It shook the foundations of the cafe, even. Gakuto and Romin could hardly withstand the aural assault but they managed.

Gakuto held onto Romin and he pulled himself up. Romin struggled with Gakuto’s weight but came good once he was on his own two feet. He placed his arm around her waist and brandished a fan - she had no idea where it came from - with passion.

“Seize the sonic wave, Muse Duellist!” he yelled in her ear with a flourish of his fan. “According to my Scholar Scanner, this monster’s weak point is in the middle of its top vertice so aim there.”

“Got it.” Romin nodded.

Gakuto held her steady whilst Romin wielded her scepter once more. Knowing it's true function as a long range, sound based weapon, having given it a crash test, she felt more confident with it. She took a huge breath and felt her diaphragm flex. Even if she didn’t know how to sing in a way that sounded good, at least she knew how to sing in a way that was good for her body.

Romin moved the scepter upwards, she tilted her chin up, too. She could see that funny little device at the top of her phone which had caused this monstrosity to become a monstrosity in the first place. The weak point, she didn’t even need the Scholar Scanner to realise that. Holding on tight to the sceptre, Romin used her finishing attack: her Maximum Song.

She sang the opening lyrics of RoaRomin’s most iconic song into the R of the sceptre and the effect was immediate. It wasn’t just a sonic wave, it was a sonic boom. It was enough to flatten the vicinity of the cafe, Romin and Gakuto barely holding onto each other through the immensity of the sound.

The monster screeched out but began to crack. The sonic boom had been concentrated, funneled through the hole of the R and it assailed the top vertice of the monster. It tried to resist but it began to buzz. To fumble. Its body fell away, piece by piece and Romin could hardly believe her eyes as every iota of the machine was just shed so easily.

Then poof! Another explosion and the monster disappeared. Became its omega and its alpha: in other words, Romin’s phone and Dr. Ohdo’s device that he used to turn it into a monster.

Romin squealed as she raced forward, catching her phone before it could crash land into the ground. Gakuto was also hot on her heels, catching the Road that had infected the technology. They both sighed in relief as neither seemed too damaged and then exchanged a smile.

“Well…” Romin murmured, her high heels clicking as she dawdled, “I think we can call that a success.”

“I think we can.” Gakuto said.

Romin leaned over and peered over Gakuto’s arms. She looked at what he was holding, cupped, in his hands. Some sort of tiny, green drone with frazzled, yellow eyes.

“What is that?” Romin asked, blinking.

“A Kaizo.” Gakuto replied gravely. “One of Dr. Ohdo’s favourite inventions. It's a versatile Road and seeing what chaos it caused today, one he has improved of late.”

“But we broke it, right? Destroyed it? So it's all good, right? We saved the day and never have to do this Muse Duellist thing ever again, yeah?” Romin asked, rambling.

Gakuto shook his head, “This fight was just the first of who knows how many. Your duty as the champion of humanity’s future, ensuring that we have one, just begun, Miss Kirishima.”

“Wh-What?!” Romin stammered in exclamation.

Gakuto put his hand firmly on Romin’s shoulder, “Worry not, you will do well. I shall assist you above and beyond all expectations.” His mind was already brimming with calculations and ideas on how to improve the Muse Sceptre now that he had seen Romin action as a close quarters combatant rather than a ranged attacker like he expected.

“That’s not really the-” Romin gave up mid-sentence. Gakuto was practically shining with his conviction so she sighed. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with any commitments I have with my band.”

“Thank you, Romin, I have no doubt you will be hailed and regarded extremely well in the future, once we have acquired its certainty. We will not allow Dr. Ohdo to end our road in armageddon.” Gakuto said firmly.

“Yeah…” Romin murmured and she looked around, her eyes went wide as she realised that two people were standing them, half-crouched, hands reached up and they were twirling brushes in their fingers like they were meant to be bouquets. “Um, who are…?” She looked around in panic and realised that the impacts and craters from their fight, the fallen branches, a lot of it had been cleaned up and away somehow.

“These are my trusty assistants, Ranze and Rinnosuke, they will be assisting us in our endeavour to protect the future as well.” Gakuto explained.

“Okay, well, good to meet you both.” Romin said.

They ceased their stagehanding with the brushes and got up. They saluted Romin and appeared to return her sentiments: it was good to meet her, too.

“So, um, how do I get out of this outfit?” Romin asked in a small voice. “Just by the way.”

“Musa, activate protocol Three-Five-U-M.” Gakuto recited.

“Mu-Mu-Musa!” Musa chirped.

Romin was flung asunder again, this time in reverse from before. The Muse Sceptre vibrated in her hands and began the de-transformation process. She was forcibly put through the wringer and when she came out the side, her hair was down, her beret was back, and she was wearing her cut-out denim jeans again. She couldn’t believe it.

Her sceptre had also become that tiny little charm again - the Tuning Pick - in her hand. Knowing the safest spot for it was inside Musa, she offered it to the little guy who was brimming with jubilance as it hovered around her like an enthusiastic fly. It happily swallowed up the Tuning Pick and Romin sighed, exhausted.

“What a day it’s been…” she mumbled and felt her stomach growl.

“And what a future it shall be,” Gakuto reminded her and Romin look up at him, the weirdo in a lab coat, shiny orange glasses, he looked bizarre but he also looked like he knew what he was doing, he offered her his hand, “and to thank you for your services, would you like an early dinner with us?”

Romin smiled and she took his hand, she felt her heart skip a beat and now she was the one enamoured with this person from an entirely different world to her, “That would be lovely, thank you. I’ll let my chauffeur know that I’ll be a bit longer.”

“Sounds good.” Gakuto agreed, squeezing her hand, noticing the callouses on her fingertips, and so ending the beginning of Muse Duellist’s saga to protect the future through song on a happy note.

#100ships challenge #petuniashipping #yugioh sevens #sevens #yugioh #gakuto sougetsu #romin kirishima #kirishima romin #sougetsu gakuto #writing tag #i had a lot of fun writing this fic and i hope the affectionate paordy elements convey that way

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jewels2876 · 4 years ago

Text

Always. - A LOKI finale synopsis

So I thought I could write something magical or be inspired by the Loki finale for @the-th-horniest-book-club as it's their last day of celebration.

And it hit me. I can't.

Here's what I can do: dissect this episode down to its heartbreaking ending because at the end I still have a million questions and it's gonna take a cartoon What If?, a Spiderman movie, maybe a Hawkeye show?, and a Dr. Strange movie to answer them all and I'll STILL have questions after that.

Consider for just a moment what happened to 2012 Loki when the TVA captured him way back in Episode One - what the hell did removing Loki do to the MCU timeline? Thor: The Dark World never happened. And no I don't mean you can pretend Marvel put it out there because they did, and it's one of the worst Marvel movies, there I said it. But if TWD didn't happen, what else could have been affected?

And with that disturbing thought we begin...

The opening credits HAVE AUDIO! Every tag line uttered as the characters flash on the screen, EVEN LOKI gets his "We have a Hulk" in. It is awesome; it is glorious; it is expected with EVERY Marvel creation going forward.

Loki and Sylvie should know better than to stare at a door; they always seem to open on their own when that happens. Miss Minutes pops up out of nowhere, scaring the bejesus out of 70% of people, the other 30% wanted to see her one last time. And she's not the same Miss Minutes we first met. She's edgy, she's less peppy, and she gives our duo an offer. Honestly, she should have known the result but 🤷🏻‍♀️

Ravonna is doing something in her office; if she's cleaning it's a piss poor job. Miss Minutes shows up and tells Ravonna she gave her what she needs. Ominous.

Back to Loki and Sylvie who finally meet "He Who Remains." Now we all know guys with names like "He Who Must Not Be Named" are bad news. Guys, to answer the question asked in the show, I'm a little disappointed. The disappointment lasts about five seconds... The office they get transported to reminds me IMMEDIATELY of a certain movie and certain buildings we've seen before (insert duh at this point because you too have seen every Marvel movie ever.)

****** Side note: anyone know if Tom takes his tea with only two sugars? No? Yes? Okay getting back to other things ******

At this point, we get back to Ravonna and her lack of cleaning when Mobius shows up with the pruner (it has to have a cooler name! side side note: nope just glowing batons) and we get a nice little flashback to Original Ravonna (maybe?)

****** 2nd side note: since when did everyone who's not a Russo brother start using OHIO for origin stories? Seriously, go watch Black Widow. I'll wait.******

Now back to Loki, Sylvie, and He Who Remains, hereto known as HWR, who pulls the same trick we saw in the first episode with the "read and sign" guy with the adorable kitten. HWR needs a kitten, a pet at the very least. "You can't get to the end until you've been changed by the journey." HWR s is winding up for a pitch and also summarizes the show too. Loki asks if it's a manipulation; HWR finds the word interesting and I do to. Here's why:

Odin manipulated Loki's abandonment to his advantage

Thanos put Loki under mind control and used him

This is the 2012 Loki as a reminder, so he hasn't been subjected to imprisonment on Asgard or the brotherly banter/squabbles he and Thor have escaping Asgard, nor “Get help” from Ragnarok so it should come as no shock that Loki looks angry. After all, Odin and Thanos kind of killed any hope in Loki of feeling wanted or needed. Aren’t father figures supposed to instill hope, instead of disgust? Yeah, I can answer that one but that’d be an entire other post.

Now we’re back to Ravonna and Mobius and they spat over who was more betrayed - news flash: it was Mobius. But Ravonna has to do for the digs. “Those variants?” “You threw it away for a couple of Lokis.” Mobius tries to reason with Ravonna, sounding exactly like Glenda and Elphaba from Wicked (his “together” is spot on Glenda!) Ravonna opens a portal looking for “free will” after giving Mobius one last beatdown.

And we’re back to Loki, Sylvie and HWR. HWR gives them a bit of his backstory; I have a suspicion he’s glossed over some of it (he admits being called a conqueror for cryin’ out loud!) He has a maniacal moment, standing on his desk, voice getting a little shrill and thin. He also admits he’s probably the saner of his variants (my words not his.) Then after his real-man-behind-the-curtain routine he makes them an offer. Take his place. Loki, who has been remarkably non verbal, asks why HWR would give up control. Good question from the guy who wants to be in control yet was meant to thrive on chaos he creates. If anyone is keeping score, questions have been asked but not a single ANSWER has been given! Sylvie isn’t believing a single word while our Loki’s wheels are turning.

****** 3rd side note: the acting has been PHENOMENAL this entire series. Forget what Marvel promised and didn’t deliver (fluid Loki) and a scene we’ll be getting to, Tom and company have been nothing short of an Emmy, which I expect next year.******

HWR finally gets fed up with Sylvie and tells her to grow up. Because she took her pruning personally. Now I’m not going to say she shouldn’t be upset about her pruning; Marvel made it A POINT of showing her playing, content on Asgard, when they took her. But HWR has a point. He’s offering an option that allows Loki and Sylvie to do whatever they feel is best and it’s the wrong time for Sylvie to get in her feelings. Of course 99% of us know that’s EXACTLY when feelings choose to surface.

Then something happens - we don’t know who or what did it. Was it Ravonna and her leaving? Did Ravonna meet someone we suspect? Was it Mobius? Miss Minutes? The agents? We may never know exactly but now HWR is actually in the dark. Mr. Know-It-All suddenly doesn’t know it all.

Sylvie thinks she has her opportunity to fulfil her quest but it’s our Loki who protects HWR. Loki doesn’t tell her she’s wrong or right, just to stop and THINK. And now we get a glimpse of 2018 Loki:

See the bigger picture

Let’s talk about it

I believe HWR

What fills the void of a dictator?

What if we unleash something worse than HWR?

Now here’s where Marvel gets an B+ in character development. They took the 2012 Loki hell bent on destroying Earth to rule it and gave him just enough growth to become the 2018 redeemed Loki ODINSON, willing to sacrifice himself to Thanos (even if he did think he wouldn’t die.) It’s not a perfect arc by any means, but Marvel got there and this is one thing I applaud.

Sylvie now thinks Loki is lying to her to get to a throne and is clearly upset they are not seeing eye to eye on this and another point to Marvel. Loki, for only seeing a few videos that Mobius showed him, still has more life experience in his SINGULAR moment with Thanos to know that there is ALWAYS something bigger, badder, WORSE around the corner and he does NOT want to make the wrong decision. Wow.

To trust or not to trust.

It’s a beautiful sword fight that HWR sits back and watches like it’s ESPN. The lighting is gorgeous behind the action and is leading up to my next OMG moment: STOP.

Loki asks Sylvie to stop, almost like a child. Like someone who knows exactly where the fight leads, where it goes, and where it ends. And he says as much to her as well. Sylvie feels like that person who just wants the fight to be over; she hunches into Tom’s space and the lighting suddenly stays green and blue. Guess who’s green? Guess who is blue?

This goes back to my Emmy mention. Even if it’s ONLY for technical work, it’s so deserving. Sylvie, in green, tired, emotional, struggling with something we aren’t supposed to know just yet. Loki, in blue, almost as if his Jotun form has taken over, strong, sensible, relatable, empathetic.

And then that damn kiss! Marvel missed another opportunity here. Two Lokis had the opportunity to show self-love, familial love, friendly love, ANYTHING BUT A DAMN KISS!!! I’m not saying they couldn’t have feelings for each other, but it NEVER has to be romantic just because it’s a guy and a girl. **dramatic sigh goes here**

Sylvie pushes Loki through a portal she has opened, then turns to stab HWR through the chest, as he predicted. HWR actually chuckles, which makes me wonder if he expected this exact turn of events. As if we’ll ever know for sure.

Of course the timeline is going nebular and we’re treated to a shot back to the TVA. Mobius and B-15 exchange words as they watch the timelines grow and grow. Loki is sitting on a couch at the TVA and decides he’s not done? You’re supposed to guess the motivation because everything seems normal at the TVA. Loki finds Mobius and B-15 and admits to everything. Loki calling HWR terrifying is terrifying all on is own. And this of course is where it ends.

The post credit scene is just a “Loki returns in Season Two.”

Guys, this season was a mixed bag. There was some good, there was some not so good; there were laughs and a couple of tears. But it also has me SO HYPED for what’s to come. More Loki, more Marvel content, more... everything, I hope!

#loki spoilers #loki tv spoilers #loki #sylvie

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snusbandxknifewife · 4 years ago

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Photo Fic 2: Electric Boogaloo

Ok so this is the sequel to the first fic I ever posted on this account. (If you wanna read that one first, click on the photo fic tag at the bottom.) I think it’s cute as hell and I’m soft about it so 🥺 Jude and Cardan wanting to take pictures together makes me 🥺🥺🥺

~~~~~~~~~

In the year after Cardan and Jude took their very first photos in a photobooth, photography became a bit of a fascination in Faerie. Jude didn’t intend for it to happen, but what royalty does tends to become the fad in the kingdom.

It started when they’d bought a Polaroid and began to take pictures of one another, eventually amassing so many that they’d dedicated an entire hall to photos of them. It was both of their favorite place in the entire palace, where they both went to see the other smile and drown in happy memories.

Then a servant had left a door open and a visiting dignitary had seen inside. After that, word quickly spread around the kingdom of the King and Queen’s portrait hall: the place where they’d managed to capture pieces of real life. Jude and Cardan had sighed and agreed to throw the doors open, allowing people to tour the wonder.

(Of course they’d continued to take dumb photos and risqué ones too, but they were much better at hiding those. Jude was insistent that only the dramatic or kickass photos get sent to the hall.)

They’d graduated to a better camera and they’d started to send requests for Vivi to print them. As the photos got bigger and more detailed, the people of Elfhame grew more impressed. All over the kingdom, tinkerers and witches and everyone in between began trying to craft devices that would capture photos in ways the mortal devices couldn’t. It had become a fierce competition, one that amused both Jude and Cardan.

Now, on Cardan’s birthday, the entire kingdom was watching with bated breath. The Living Council had announced a competition to find the best camera creation and, in addition to all the gifts people were bringing for the king, the great hall was full of photographs. The king would be choosing the most realistic picture, and he’d also be awarding the most beautiful one.

Jude sat on her throne, her red empire waist dress floating down to her feet and glittering in the light. She’d worn it at Cardan’s insistence; since he’d announced that their subjects would undoubtedly be taking pictures of them and he wanted his wife to shine just as much as her.

Beside her, Cardan smiled and greeted the family of a soldier from the Court of Termites. Bomb took their gift and stacked it on a table to the side of the royal dais. The picture they brought with them is a gorgeous rendering of a hill overlooking a lake at sunset. It appears to be painted, the work of an extremely diligent artist who had undoubtedly spent days getting everything right.

The photos people came with weren’t all actual photographs, most were art pieces, but it made Jude smile. She couldn’t help but feel proud at the fact that she’d inspired her kingdom to try something they’d never really focused on before. At least she knew she wouldn’t have to keep going to the mortal world to get pictures with her husband. She’d be able to stay in Faerie, safe in what she was familiar with, and she’d still be able to capture important moments in her life.

Still, she’d had to go to the mortal world to get the gift she wanted for Cardan. She’d done that a few times in the past year—her husband’s favorite had been the pinup shoot she’d done about five months prior—and he had a habit of rotating the framed pictures of her he kept on his desk.

She knew she’d have to stop eventually, so she took all her chances while she still had them. She was glad that the timing of this one has worked out.

Time passed and she played the dutiful queen and adoring wife, dancing with Cardan and eating to her heart’s content, greeting her subjects and accepting gifts that didn’t come with any strings attached.

Cardan watched her over the top of his chalice, grinning at how effortlessly she swayed across the floor. With her head held high and her shoulders back, she commanded the whole room without a word. His wife was gorgeous, she was his everything.

Eventually their people became antsy, looking around at the pictures hanging all around the hall and wondering who would be announced the winner. Members of the Living Council were interviewing everyone who’d put in an entry to find out how they made their picture as Cardan led Jude to look at each piece. They’d make the decision on the most beautiful picture alone, and they’d take the Living Council’s input on the best camera entry.

Jude’s favorite was definitely the picture someone had turned in of a revel from a few weeks back. It had been outside, everyone barefoot and dancing until the sun had long come up. The picture showed a dance floor lined with faeries in all manner of dress, watching on as she and Cardan danced. Her dress that night had been a spring green piece with a dangerously low back and skirts that danced around her ankles. Her husband, shown smiling as he swung her around, had a ruffled shirt open low on his pale stomach and breeches of forest green.

Cardan’s favorite was a picture put in by a guard, one that showed his wife dressed in fighting gear as she practiced out in the gardens; her hair sticking to her skin and her face fierce as she lunged towards her sparring partner. He always adored little reminders of how deadly his wife was, loved to see glimpses of the creature that he’d managed to tame, the one who’d tamed him in turn.

They retreated to their thrones to deliberate as Cardan opened gifts. The whole hall went silent, watching the king’s reaction to each parcel. While gifts had to be freely given, everyone knew that those who gave the best gifts would be looked upon favorably.

Jude watched the room for threats as her heart began to race. She knew that the last gift Cardan would open would be the one from her. She’d made sure that Bomb arranged everything that way.

She’d worked her ass off to keep her gift a secret from him. Cardan had been a pain in the neck for WEEKS, trying to catch her in a slip up. She had to engineer a diplomatic mission for him to go on just so she could sneak away to the mortal world and she’d threatened a few lives to keep it from him. Thankfully, it would all be over in a few hours.

Cardan opened all manner of magical gifts: cloaks meant to make the wearer invisible, doublets of impenetrable spider silk, jewelry that helped you understand and speak other languages. Everything he was given was gorgeous and unbelievably expensive.

Everything except for one thing.

Cardan was just about to grab the parchment from Randalin that announced the best camera so they could make their announcements when Jude stopped him.

“Cardan, you’ve got one more gift,” she gently announced and his brows furrowed. One, Jude was hardly ever gentle and two, he had opened everything he’d been given.

Bomb walked up and handed Jude a box, one made of lush purple velvet and wrapped up in a bow of the cleanest white satin.

“What on Earth?” Cardan tilted his head to the side as he accepted the gift, his long fingers wrapping all the way around it as he tried to weigh it to guess what was inside.

“Consider it my entry into the photo contest,” she grinned, only confusing him more.

He pulled the bow off and the entire crowd watched closely. Some were intrigued, others were angry—nobody had been told the queen would be submitting a photo—and others were just being quiet to avoid the ire of the royal family.

When Cardan took the top off the box, he found a picture frame upside down and he snorted. It was just like Jude to prolong the drama.

Jude grabbed fistfuls of her fluffy tulle skirt and bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to make it bleed. She knew that she’d have to explain what it was and that was making her nervous enough to shake.

She’d debated for hours if she should give him his birthday gift in private or if she should do it at his party. Eventually, at the insistence of Vivi and Heather, she’d taken the plunge and decided on a public announcement. She knew everyone would find out eventually.

“It’s.....a photo?”

Jude snorted at Cardan’s evident confusion as he looked at the black and white fuzzy picture, no larger than his hand. She’d put it in a pretty white frame, one that she would eventually write a name on.

“You’re right, my love,” she agreed. “It’s a photo from the mortal world. You see, mortals have figured out how to take pictures for medical purposes. They can use special devices to see inside the body.”

He looked to her, delicately clutching the frame in one hand. She fought the urge to laugh at how he still hadn’t put two and two together. Out in the crowd, faeries were tittering amongst themselves, trying to figure out what their queen has given their king.

“Is this a photograph of you?” He turned back to the picture, gripping it in both hands again and turning it like a different angle would make it make more sense.

“Sort of,” she shook her hand in a so-so gesture. “I’d say I’m the background of the photo. You should be focusing here.”

She walked over and pointed, her nail with its unchipped purple paint tapping against the glass over a strangely shaped white blob. Cardan naturally leaned closer to her, as he always did when she got near, one of his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close as he tilted his head and squinted his eyes.

Silence stretched out for a few more seconds before Jude, near giddy with mirth, stepped away from her husband.

“Maybe it’ll help if you know where the photo was taken,” she offers as she grabs the frame from his hands. Cardan, his mind still swimming with possibilities, allowed her.

Then, as his wife turned the photo to face him and drew it back so the frame was flush against her lower abdomen, his jaw dropped.

If she was the background, and the photo was taken inside the body—

“Jude, gods above, how long have you known?” Cardan’s eyes welled up with tears and he fell to his knees, his hands coming up to cup his wife’s hips and his thumbs running over where the frame covered her stomach.

Just that quickly, her throat closed up from emotion and all she could do was nod. Cardan grabbed the frame from her and tucked it against his heart as he pressed his face into her skirts, trying to kiss her stomach and hide his crying all at the same time.

Some faeries had put the clues together and were watching with gaping mouths, unsure of what to do as their king hugged their queen.

Then, Jude pulled Cardan to his feet and she turned to the crowd. “The gift I present to my king and husband is the first photograph of our child, which grows inside me as we speak.”

And, just like that, the entire hall erupted with celebration. Most of their subjects had grown to love their new king and queen and, even if that weren’t the case, a pregnancy was always cause for celebration among the fertility-challenged fae. A royal baby, especially so early on in both the king and queen’s rule and their marriage, was unheard of.

Randalin—who looked a bit annoyed at not being informed of the royal pregnancy before the court was—led the partygoers in a toast, one that Cardan happily joined in. Beside the beaming king, Jude raised her glass of water in solidarity; no wine for her for a few more months.

“How long?” Cardan asked her, near giddy with excitement.

“The doctor said twelve weeks,” she whispered back, wrapping her arm around her husband’s hips as they raised their glasses again. “I’ve suspected for a month or so. I should’ve known sooner, but my first missed period was during that last uprising attempt, so I was a bit distracted.”

Cardan held out the photo and Jude pointed out the body parts that were already forming. When she told him that she’d be going back, that he’d be able to come with her and hear their baby’s heartbeat while it was still inside her, he nearly began to bawl again.

“When do we announce the winners?” Jude asked, thinking back to that gorgeous picture of them dancing.

“I can’t think of anything more beautiful than this.” He held up the photo of their baby and Jude blushed, elbowing his side and telling him to be serious.

Cardan told her that he was being serious and she bit her lip, looking down at the photo she’d already stared at so much.

The party would grow into a week-long celebration of the new heir; a practice run for the celebrations that would rock Elfhame when the child was born. Eventually, both the faeries who made the two pictures Jude and Cardan had enjoyed the most were made aware that their works were hanging in the royal picture hall and another faerie who’d made the best camera was given a job by the Living Council and they became the first official royal photographer.

Elfhame would grow to love photography, all because of a mortal queen who wanted a picture with her husband.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hnnnnng pregnancy announcements are so cute lol

Tag list: @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @hizqueen4life @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thewickedkings @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @cheekycheekycheeks @queen-of-glass @b00kworm @doingmyrainbow @andromeddea @jurdanhell @thesirenwashere @sweetlyvillainous @clouds-and-peonies @clockworkgraystairs

#cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #tfota #jurdan #judecardan #photo fic #tyrannosaurus lex writes #pregnancy announcement #im SO fucking soft for this

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jaybug-jabbers · 4 years ago

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Review: Pokemon Gold and Silver 97: Reforged

The Review

What a fantastic game. I went looking for a hack that fully realized the sort of pokemon game we glimpsed in the Spaceworld ‘97 demo, and I was not disappointed.

This alternative version of Gold and Silver takes that Spaceworld demo and builds on it with loving care and attention to detail. All the beta pokemon sprites were freshly made from scratch or edited to update them for the final, polished Gameboy Color look. The pokemon movesets and stats were crafted so that they were balanced and didn’t contain placeholders, and the pokemon were populated throughout the world in a logical fashion. Dex entries were written and the pokes were integrated smoothly into the world. There are even different sprites and different encounter rates for Gold and Silver-- although you can ‘catch them all’ in either version, an excellent choice.

Meanwhile, the world map was colored, tweaked and polished, allowing us to explore that beta world that was stunningly different from the final Gold and Silver. It’s a place that in many ways seems even more vibrant and varied than final Gold and Silver, and is truly exciting to explore.

Along with this fully realized map, this hack’s creators also gave us a fresh new plot for Gold and Silver. This one was inspired by the differences glimpsed in the demo, including Oak’s increased involvement in the story, Silver’s different personality and role, and the inclusion of an Imposter Oak. The plot stays true to the style of pokemon games and doesn’t seem out of place.

All of the exciting little beta details were included too-- including the original Type alignments, the original Gym Leader designs, beta pokemon moves, new hold items, access to the Skateboard, being able to name your Mom, and even the minigame on the game start screen. The attention to detail and the polish on this hack is truly impressive.

Essentially, I feel like this hack can be considered the definitive edition of the beta Gold/Silver that we never knew. It gives us a chance to experience this alternative world, and breathes life into these wonderful pokemon that never were. Giving us a chance to know and love these beta creations is truly a gift for pokemon fans.

Perhaps the only downside is the sadness that this is not the official version of Gold and Silver. I experienced Pokemon a little bit differently then my peers. As a child, I adored Red and Blue, but once I’d finished with those games, I moved on from pokemon. I have no nostalgic memories of Gold and Silver to hold onto. I only returned to pokemon years later as a teenager. At that point I played several generations, one after another, at the same time, as a sort of “pokemon binge.” While most would call it blasphemy, I was never too terribly fond of Gold and Silver. I think it was largely because I didn’t happen to like a lot of the pokemon designs in those games. In many ways, this ROM hack presents a Gold and Silver that I adore and can love even more than the originals.

That’s not to say the official Gold/Silver games are all terrible, of course. There are still definitely some beta pokemon that I feel were axed or altered for good reason. Not all of them are better then the final cuts. And there are other elements that are an improvement, too; for example, I actually really like Silver’s storyline in the official games and the fact we dealt with a character who actually stole pokemon and treated them poorly.

That said, there is an awful lot to love in this ROM hack, and I’m grateful that we have it. Pangshi, Bellrun, Warwolf, Madame, Volbear and others may not be officially recognized by the Pokemon franchise . . . but they will always be very real in my heart.

The Team

Cinnamon (Flame Wheel/Crunch/Scary Face/Earthquake - Charcoal)

Selecting the starter was difficult, because both Honooguma’s line and Kurusu’s line appealed to me. Ultimately I think I went with my old Fire bias. Cinnamon was everything you’d expect a Fire starter to be-- powerful, intimidating, and very reliable. My only real complaint would be that I happened to strongly dislike the sprite the team had created for Dynabear. This isn’t really anyone’s fault, because the team did an excellent job with spriting-- for example, their sprite for the mid-evolution, Volbear, was incredibly good and I adored it to bits. I think it was just a matter of personal taste; I just didn’t like the final evolution’s face. (I’ve actually replaced the sprite in this picture with the original sprite, because I don’t want it to dampen my love for this species) Other than that, seriously, they did this evolution family justice. It was a joy to have on my team.

Doomsday (Curse/Confuse Ray/Body Slam/Shadow Ball - Power Wings)

The second member of my team was found in Brass Tower, to my great excitement: Kurstraw. This was possibly my favorite evolution line to come out of the beta discoveries. This pokemon’s stats were not exactly breaking any records; he went down pretty easily if I wasn’t careful. However, that never really mattered. Doomsday still did his job anyway-- pulling his weight just fine, relying on Confuse Ray and Curse a fair bit to take care of foes. He often was an excellent team player, messing with especially troubling pokemon before passing them over to an ally to finish off. His Normal Immunity also was a strong advantage at times, which I made sure to make use of. Basically, he was a fantastic companion, who helped me all the way through to the Elites and Champion fights.

Rumtum (Slash/Thunder Wave/Thunderbolt/Crunch - Leftovers)

Along with a Rinrin, this round good boy was added to the team next. I was slightly wary of Kotora because it seemed to be one of the most popular beta pokemon among fans. But, the pokemon does seem to be worthy of praise, as it turns out. It is an excellent, cute, cheery little creature and seems to do Pikachu’s job just as nicely as Pikachu, both in fighting and in charisma. Where Pikachu is focused more on speed, though, Kotora and its evolution focus a little more on bulk. The tanky tiger was able to take hits long enough to outlast the competition, even when working with relatively low basepower moves. When he *finally* learned Thunderbolt, though, man, look out -- he was quite a force to reckon with.

It’s funny, actually. When I first saw this tubby tiger, I assumed it was a fire type. Electric was somewhat surprising, but I quickly grew to like it as that typing. Most electric type pokemon are rodent-focused, as Pikachu clones, or Magnemite’s kin. Having a big, bulky tiger is unexpected for the archtype of electric pokemon, but it’s a very refreshing change.

Poprocks (Fire Blast/Surf/Body Slam/Flame Wheel - Mystic Water)

Next on the team was this awesome fellow. Well . . . sort of. Technically, next on the team was TRICKY the Bomsheal, which I traded a Rinrin for with an NPC. Later on, I felt like being able to name the pokemon myself, so I bred Tricky with Cinnamon and trained Poprocks up from scratch. This seal was the cause of some angst for me. I loved Manboo’s evolutionary line a lot, but I also loved the fire seal. They both vyed for the position of the water type on my team. For a while, I used Manboo (and Anchorage) . . . intent on keeping it. But I missed the seal so much, eventually I went back for it to retrieve it from the PC. Yes, it only added to my team’s Rock/Ground weakness, but I didn’t care. I loved this guy too much.

I’m not sure what it is. The freaking amazing typing of Fire/Water? That was definitely a big part of it. But there’s also just something so appealing in its design, simple as it may be. He’s just a cool seal with a fireball. And boy . . . I sure learned how INTENSE its stats were. This seal was RIPPING through the competition. Using it was basically pushing the win button. Honestly it might need to be nerfed a little, it was nuts. But yeah, Bomsheal is a badass and doesn’t need any evolutions to be cool. Best surfer ever!

Darkwing (Slash/Fly/Swords Dance/Faint Attack - Stick)

Right around when I was handed the TM for Fly, I ran into an area that had two types of birds available, depending on the time of day: Hoothoot at night, Farfetch’d at day. As cool as beta Noctowl looks, I eventually decided I needed to have a Madame. I just had to. Like many others, I always, always felt Farfetch’d deserved an evolution and was kind of screwed over. Learning it used to have one was a revelation.

Madame on this team was kind of funny, though. Next to all of these exotic beta pokemon, Madame seemed so . . . normal. She had moves and performed pretty much the way you’d expect a Normal/Flying type to act. It was much like using a Pidgeotto or Fearow. She couldn’t take many hits but usually could take out one pokemon. Her typing had her as an ideal Generalist pokemon-- something that could be used in various situations, not to any amazing effect but usually to a passable one.

That may sound a little underwhelming to you, but honestly, it’s what you’d expect of this cool-looking swan; it’s a Normal/Flying type. It fills that archtype as a familiar, dependable generalist. And I am someone who can really appreciate a generalist pokemon. I think the pokemon world’s richer for having Madame in it, even if only in our dreams.

Alpha (Strength/Blizzard/Screech/Ice Punch - Nevermeltice)

The final member of our illustrious team. You have to wait until fairly late into the game, when you reach the snowy towns, to get a hold of one of these fellows.But the wait is well worth it. What a beautiful pokemon design these two are-- mysterious little creatures hiding inside their wolf pelts, a perfect mix of cute and creepy. Wolfman/Warwolf actually struggled for quite some time on my team, unfortunately, just because of its movepool. I was left with the very weak Icy Wind for a long time. To compensate, I taught Strength, which worked somewhat, but I could still tell Warwolf wasn’t reaching its full potential. I taught it Blizzard, but the poor pokemon had a rough time ever landing its hits. What I SHOULD have done from the start is buy and teach it Ice Punch for a reliable STAB move with decent base power. I FINALLY decided to do that around the time I reached the Elite 4. I kind of had to-- its learnset wasn’t providing it with reliable, decent Ice moves, for some reason. Once Warwolf was properly equipped, he did great work. Admittedly, a pure Ice type pokemon isn’t the best, defensively. They have four weaknesses to some very common move types-- Rock, Fighting, Fire. (Steel moves weren’t really implemented in this game). That said, when used wisely, a pure Ice type can still be a valuable team member.

There was one hitch, though. Warwolf was mainly a physical fighter. This makes sense if you look at him. Of course he’d be a physical fighter. Thing is, in gen 2, Ice moves were all special. So I suppose technically Warwolf still isn’t hitting at his full potential-- not until the special/physical split in gen 4 so he can take true advantage of physical-type Ice moves. Still, despite that fact, he did a great job anyway. He landed the final blow that defeated Lance and won the game, after all.

I think my only real regret is how relatively little time I spent with him when compared to the others. This is, of course, just the nature of the game; you find some pokemon later on when you’re nearing the end of the game. If there’s any sort of post-game, perhaps I can spend more time with him.

And the Ones Who Didn’t Make the Cut . . .(This Time)

There were so many beta pokemon that it was impossible to have them all on the team, of course. I was especially sad about leaving my Bellrun, Tibbs, behind. I adore Rinrin and Bellrun’s line, as yet another set of pokemon that should have been included in the final cut of the official games. Alas, ultimately I removed Tibbs from my team, though. The reason was simple enough. With the beta Type alignments, Dark type was heavily disadvantaged. It was weak to Normal-type and Dark-type moves (as well as Bug), which was extremely significant. Pokemon’s movepools were positively saturated with Normal and Dark type moves, and it was impossible to avoid. With her already weak stats, and her lack of any decent basepower moves for so long, there was just too much stacked against her. It’s my hope that Rinrin/Bellrun get a bit of a buff in future updates, because they really seem to struggle.

In any case, there were also plenty of others not on my team: Aquarius, Noctowl, Belmitt, Jumpluff, Turban, Plux, Grotess, Girafarig, Leafeon . . . and so many more. Honestly, that’s fantastic. It gives such replayability to the game. I have no doubt I will return to do more runs and get the chance to try out other pokes.

And, who knows? Maybe in the future they’ll even update this hack to include even more beta pokemon that were uncovered last year. If they don’t, I’m sure someone else will.

(This hack is largely the work of lvl_3, who created ‘Pokemon Super Gold 97.’ Then, the hack was further changed and refined by a team into ‘Pokemon Gold and Silver 97: Reforged.’ Both can be found at the PokeCommunity as patches.)

#pokemon reviews #pokemon ROM hacks #pokemon fan games #mycontent #beta pokemon #spoilers

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