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happylittledrabbles · 3 years ago

Text

Four Years

Rating: T

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Tsukishima/Kuroo, Tsukishima/Yamaguchi, Kuroo/Kenma

On the day of Kuroo's graduation, Tsukishima kisses him and runs away without another word, leaving both of them confused. Neither speaks to one another after that, and Tsukishima has to figure out his own emotions now that the person he loves has left, bouncing around from one person to another in order to fill the hole Kuroo created. Angst, hurt, self-discovery, and acceptance ensue, all ending in a high school reunion that ends in tears.

AO3

—

It happened so quickly, Kuroo barely knew what happened.

One second, he was congratulating Tsukishima on his good work outside the nationals tournament gym, joking around with the skinny beanpole he had grown close to for nearly a year. Pushing him playfully, ruffling his hair, patting him on the shoulder. All the standard forms of affection Tsukishima had learned to tolerate over the months. Keyword: tolerate . The last thing Kuroo expected was to have that affection returned by the same Tsukishima who slapped him the first time he placed his hand on his back.

Especially in the form of a kiss.

A chaste kiss, one that lasted barely a second, but a kiss nonetheless. On the lips.

Before Kuroo could even form a thought, nevermind actually react to it, he was faced with the back of Tsukishima’s head as he sprinted away and down the sidewalk to the hotel. If he hadn’t just been kissed, he would have found it comical that Tsukishima was finally putting effort into exercise—running no less—but all that he could summon was a shaky exhale as his trembling fingers came up to his lips, where he could have sworn he still felt Tsukishima’s chapped lips on his.

If Kuroo knew that the last thing he’d see of Tsukishima for months to follow would be the back of his head, he would have sprinted right after him and captured his wrist, spun him back, and made fun of his escape plan before kissing him squarely on the lips.

But he didn’t know that. So as he switched his gaze from the diploma in his hands up to the audience at his graduation and didn’t see the skinny blond he’d had his eye on since he first practiced with him, to blond who stole a kiss from him, he couldn’t help but feel his face fall and his heart go gray. His grip on his diploma tightened until his mother slapped the back of his head for damaging his diploma, but he couldn’t help it. He apologized to his mother and thanked his family for coming out in support of him and walked home with his family, desperately using the celebratory alcohol to escape the images of glasses paired with a shit-eating grin that assaulted his mind. What he would do to have that shit-eating grin in front of him and wipe it off the holder’s face with a deep kiss.

He couldn’t even escape it in his dreams. Tsukishima dominated them in every form: his determined face as he practiced, his bored face as he watched his teammate’s foolish antics, his sleeping face that showed off an unguarded version of him for only a short time. But that short time was more than enough to win over Kuroo’s obsession. But that obsession had to come to an end. He had to focus on his new job while Tsukishima had to focus on school. They were at two different points in their lives. At least he would always have that kiss.

The problem was, Tsukishima wasn’t focusing on school when it started up again. Or practice. He wasn’t focusing on anything other than the kiss. Summer was torture since he didn’t have homework to at least pretend to lose himself in. All he had was his thoughts, and those were lethal. At random times, he’d find himself running his fingertips over his own lips, letting his eyes flutter closed and imagine Kuroo’s face in front of his, except instead of that surprised expression Kuroo held that day, it would be something full of want, of desire. When school started again, he was a lot more excited than usual, especially for volleyball practice. Except he still couldn’t escape the kiss.

“Tsukishima!” Daichi yelled, snapping Tsukishima out of his thoughts.

He hadn’t even noticed the volleyball that had whizzed past his head and nearly knocked Hinata down behind him, all thanks to the amazing ace who was currently apologizing profusely to the both of them, but Tsukishima couldn’t have cared less.

“Sorry,” he said monotonously, trying to hold back a roll of his eyes. He got back into his blocker stance, holding his arms at chest-level in anticipation for Kageyama’s serve.

“Great, now get your head out of your ass and actually play, moron,” Kageyama demanded before doing one of his powerful serves.

Tsukishima scowled at the other, but the scowl lessened when he noticed how the light streaming in from the barred windows fell so perfectly against his black hair, casting an almost halo around him as he jumped nearly two feet in the air, seeming to float before finally landing on Earth. Kageyama at that moment reminded him so much of Kuroo, from the black hair to the offhanded remarks about his performance. Although Kageyama was a tad more offensive in his remarks, Tsukishima couldn’t tell the difference, especially when he was just reeling from the powerful effects of his first kiss.

He swallowed thickly and swiftly blocked one of Asahi’s spikes, resulting in a very red palm from the aftermath. He cleared his throat and glanced directly at Kageyama, who was staring him down through the net.

“That good enough for you?” he asked calmly, resulting in Kageyama needing to be held back by Daichi and promptly hit in the back of the head by Suga. He walked off the court and leaned down to pick up his water bottle, drinking slowly as he watched with pleased amusement as Kageyama tried to wrestle his way out of Daichi’s arms.

“You do that on purpose, don’t you?” Hinata asked, causing Tsukishima to jump from surprise.

“Geez, you pop out of nowhere, don’t you?” Tsukishima grumbled behind his straw, glancing down at Hinata before looking up at the ceiling. “But yeah, it’s fun to see him freak out.”

Hinata went quiet for a moment, which usually would have been a blessing for the blond, but it made him uneasy at the same time.

“He has feelings, too, you know,” Hinata mumbled, looking down shyly at his fingers clasped in front of him. “He just can’t control them.”

Tsukishima scoffed. “What are you, his handler? Now I know that he officially needs to go to therapy for anger issues.”

“No!” Hinata exclaimed, attracting the attention of the nearby teammates. He blushed from embarrassment before grasping Tsukishima’s wrist and pulling him over to the equipment closet, staring up at the blond as much as the dimly lit room would let him. “He’s just misunderstood! And you need to stop throwing gas on the flame. He’s a nice person when you get to know him.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you have a wittle crush on him,” Tsukishima teased, making grabby hands to further cement the idea of Hinata being a lovesick puppy. However, with the combination of Hinata’s deepening blush, the turn of his face to hide it, and his lengthening silence, Tsukishima’s eyes widened in realization. So...his suspicions ever since the first day of meeting them were right? Oh, this was delightful.

“No way,” Tsukishima breathed, a grin of disbelief spreading on his face. “You actually have a crush on that volcano?”

“Don’t tell anybody!” Hinata pleaded, clinging to the front of Tsukishima’s shirt and not letting go as much as the blond tried to shake him off. “Please! I...I want to deal with it on my own time. Please…”

Tsukishima, had he truly been heartless, would have picked up Hinata by the back of the shirt like the scruff on a kitten and burst out the equipment room to proudly announce Hinata’s crush to everybody. However, he had a crush of his own, and due to his calm and collected nature, was successful in keeping it hidden. Nonetheless, if anybody had found out…

Safe to say, he had sympathy for the little orange.

“...Fine,” Tsukishima relented, pushing him away and walking over to the ajar doors. “Just don’t rub your weird couple fights in my face when you get together.”

He rolled his eyes at Hinata’s loud declarations of gratitude, shutting the doors on the redhead’s face before walking back over to his water bottle. Since then, Kageyama had calmed down (the lack of Tsukishima’s presence possibly contributing to this). He was practicing his serves in the short break Daichi afforded them, probably because he was too busy flirting with Suga to notice the rest of the team. Was everybody on the team just interbreeding? It was kind of disgusting to Tsukishima. Who the hell would fall in love with a teammate?

“Hey, Tanaka, throw me one,” Kageyama said, motioning to the sack full of volleyballs. Tanaka nodded and tossed him a ball, which Kageyama responded to by backing up behind the line and tossing the ball into the air, jumping up, and practically spiking it onto the other side as a serve.

Just that move, paired with the nearly slow-motion view Tsukishima’s brain tortured him with of the wind moving so swiftly to push back Kageyama’s hair to reveal his determined expression, was enough to get him to swallow his previous criticisms.

Oh, no, he thought. Oh no no no no. No, not a crush. It’s not a crush. Just...appreciation of beauty, is all. Not that he’s attractive! He’s an ugly bastard. Yeah, that’s it.

But as much as Tsukishima tried to convince himself that his eyes cementing on his day-one rival and sliding down his figure glowing with sweat was purely platonic, he was intelligent enough to recognize a crush when he saw one.

So he did what he usually did with crushes (the only exception being Kuroo): avoided Kageyama at all costs. It did help that Hinata eventually confessed to Kageyama, who reluctantly confessed back and ended with them as a couple. It was literally no different to their relationship from before: they constantly fought, with Kageyama continuing to throw insults that would make any regular person cry, but Hinata only laughed and took it as an encouragement to play harder. The only difference was when they would walk back home together at night after practice, they would be holding hands. Their hands must’ve been so warm together in the snowy night. As opposed to Tsukishima, who had perpetually cold hands. And nobody to warm them.

It also helped that a few weeks later—Tsukishima’s crush on Kageyama completely gone—his lifelong friend Yamaguchi confessed to him that he’d had a crush on him since he first learned about romantic feelings.

“So...all these years?” Tsukishima asked, breathless.

It was a cloudless night, the moon on full display to light up the pair of friends like a stage show. It was cold enough to have their opaque breaths overlap with each other with how close Yamaguchi was to the blond, his eyes shining with wetness from his overwhelmed tears.

“Yes,” Yamaguchi whispered, his eyes never leaving Tsukishima’s. “I...I don’t remember a time when I didn’t love you, Kei.”

A crush was one thing. But love? Yamaguchi... loved him? And not in a platonic way? As much as Tsukishima hated to admit it and never would out loud, he loved Yamaguchi as a friend. He loved their friendship and cherished it as close to his heart as his headphones. But in a romantic way...he couldn’t lie and say he never considered it. He found himself closing the gap, both physically and metaphorically, between him and Yamaguchi over the years, with the inches between them when sitting in class turning into centimeters and then millimeters. And when they had sleepovers, Tsukishima couldn’t help but turn over in his bed and watch Yamaguchi sleep. Sometimes, he’d wake up on the floor right next to Yamaguchi, who just assumed Tsukishima had sleep-walked or fallen out of bed. And he tried to convince himself of that fact so much that he thought it was true. Until now. Now he knew…

“Can you give me some time to...process all this?” he asked haltingly. His heart broke when a few tears escaped Yamaguchi’s eyes at that response. He knew very well it wasn’t the one Yamaguchi wanted. It was better to be turned down than to be kept waiting. But he physically couldn’t think at the moment from all the thoughts and flashbacks swirling in his head.

“S-sure, Kei…” Yamaguchi mumbled, wringing his hands. “Bye, then.”

He turned away and ran as fast as he could home. Tsukishima knew they both lived in the same neighborhood, so he’d give Yamaguchi a running start before he began to walk home to prevent any more awkwardness. Besides, he couldn’t imagine walking with the way his legs were shaking.

—

The next night after practice, their sweat drying down in the frigid night, they found themselves in the exact same position as yesterday: facing each other with tears in Yamaguchi’s eyes.

“Really?” Yamaguchi breathed in disbelief, clutching his hands into excited fists.

“Yeah, Tadashi,” Tsukishima replied, cracking a rare shy smile. “I really like you. I...I want to try this out.”

That was all Yamaguchi needed before he threw his arms around Tsukishima’s neck and pulled him in close, joining their lips that were so chapped, but it didn’t matter to him. All he knew was that he was kissing the best friend he’d loved since they were old enough to have abstract thought. And he wasn’t about to let go anytime soon.

All Tsukishima knew was that this kiss was...different. Different than the only kiss he’d ever had before. This kiss wasn’t bad—in fact, he found himself wrapping his arms around Yamaguchi’s waist and pulling him closer until their chests pressed together, cocking his head to the side to deepen the kiss. But a flash of Kuroo’s face made him gasp and pull away, lifting the back of his hand to his lips.

“Did...did I do something wrong?” Yamaguchi asked in such a small voice, Tsukishima immediately went to reassure him.

“No, no, it was just...overwhelming,” he replied quickly, adding in a small awkward chuckle which made Yamaguchi’s face brighten.

“I’m glad,” Yamaguchi whispered, nervously picking at his hangnails. “N-not at you being overwhelmed, but that I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“You weren’t,” Tsukishima whispered back, his face reddening to match the rose bush across from them. “At all.”

In fact, it was all his fault for imagining the black-haired upperclassman who refused to leave his mind, even after all these months. He was probably succeeding heavily in his new job, had a girlfriend—or a wife, who knew? Maybe he had some mini Kuroos running around. The thought made him nauseous. But why? He had his own boyfriend now. So why was he still thinking about that stupid kiss with that stupid Kuroo?

“Let’s go home,” Tsukishima offered, to which Yamaguchi furiously nodded.

“Yeah,” he replied, slipping his hand into Tsukishima’s, their fingers lacing together. He ran his thumb over his knuckles, which gave Tsukishima the impression that Yamaguchi had been imagining every single second of how this confession would go.

“Let’s go,” Yamaguchi murmured, pressing a kiss to Tsukishima’s cheek while standing on his toes.

They dated for the rest of high school, sharing all their firsts together. Minus Tsukishima’s first kiss. That was still reserved for the devil named Kuroo who still haunted his dreams instead of his boyfriend. They are right, though: time really does heal all wounds. It didn’t take long for Kuroo to disappear from Tsukishima’s mind. From homework to tests to volleyball to Yamaguchi, he simply didn’t have enough brainpower to focus on the man who was probably already married. That logic ended with his dreams. And he’d rather die than admit he still dreamed about anybody other than his boyfriend.

They went to the movies, had picnics, ice skated, laughed, and kissed. When they weren’t on formal dates, they hung out just like they did as before when they were just friends: at school or in each other’s bedrooms, playing on their phones absentmindedly or helping each other with their DS games. The only exception being their bedroom doors had to be left open, per their parents’ instructions. But that didn’t stop them from doing exactly what their parents were trying to prevent in their third and last year in school.

“Are you sure about this?” Yamaguchi asked breathlessly, his breath having been sucked out by the near ten-minute makeout session they were having before he pushed Tsukishima onto the bed and wavered over him.

Tsukishima only nodded, not having any courage to confirm out loud. His face was beet-red, and it only got redder when he felt Yamaguchi’s lips on his neck, chest, stomach, and beyond. The entire time, he hid his face with his arms and silenced himself, only letting out occasional whimpers and pants. It ended with both of them satisfied and with Tsukishima wordlessly clinging to Yamaguchi’s side. That was something new he learned about himself: he could be very clingy. And Yamaguchi was more than pleased to learn this.

However, he wasn’t afforded the same luxury of hiding away evidence of his pleasure the next time, with Yamaguchi physically ripping away Tsukishima’s arms from his face in order to look at his boyfriend in all his glory. After that time, Tsukishima boycotted cuddling with Yamaguchi...for the first ten minutes. Then his need for physical closeness overruled any grudge he had.

He was happy.

—

They wasted no time making up for all the sex they could’ve had the last two years where they only had clandestine makeout sessions and subtle clothed grinding. But it wasn’t just because they were horny, but because it was their last year. Their last year until they eventually split because they had drastically different life plans.

Kageyama and Hinata had already split up a month ago. Asahi and Noya had a very saccharine one year of dating until they split because of the long-distance after Asahi graduated. Suga and Daichi dated only for a month before splitting and graduating, if you could call going on one date and making out and grinding against a wall dating. It was only a matter of time before he and Yamaguchi did the same. All eyes were on them. Well, that was an exaggeration, but that’s what it felt like for Tsukishima.

Which made it all even worse when he found out his feelings weren’t mutual.

“What? You want to...break up?” Yamaguchi asked in such a broken voice that Tsukishima wanted to act like it was a prank. But he couldn’t.

“I’m just thinking about the future, Tadashi,” he replied, trying to keep his voice level, but just that felt cruel juxtaposed against Yamaguchi’s crumbling exterior.

“The future?” Yamaguchi asked, his voice breaking yet again. His confused face fell into despair, his under eyes seeming to sink inches into his face. His eyes fell down to his wringing hands in front of him. “Right...the future.”

“Yeah, I mean, it just—”

“Have you thought—” Yamaguchi interrupted, his eyes still fixated on his hands. “—that maybe I thought you were my future? That we are the future? You’re the love of my life, Kei. I could never just leave you.”

That hit Tsukishima like a train. No, a bullet. No, a bullet train. He physically recoiled, his hand gripping his sweatshirt.

“I-I—” How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? “We’re going to be across the country. You’ll be in Sapporo, and I’ll be in Fukuoka. It’s just too far.”

“Oh, well,” Yamaguchi said, trying to sound casual, but the big gobs of tears running down his cheeks were a dead giveaway that he was, in fact, not casual. “We h-had a good run.”

Tsukishima raised his hand slowly to see if Yamaguchi would object, and when he didn’t, he brushed his hot tears away with his thumb. They were so salty, they burned the cuts volleyball gave him on his fingers and palm.

“The best,” he murmured before leaning down and kissing away Yamaguchi’s tears, ignoring the burning as they slipped into the cracks in his lips. He moved them away from his cheeks to his boyfriend—now ex’s—lips, giving him one last tender kiss before standing back up and beginning his long, tearful trek home. He never cried. Keyword: never . And yet he was bawling like a baby the entire way home, only stopped when he had to walk past his parents before collapsing on the floor of his bedroom and crying until his voice was raw and he ran out of tears.

Graduation didn’t occur too long after that. He and Yamaguchi had stayed tentative friends, especially since Tsukishima wouldn’t have literally anybody to talk to if they hadn’t. He was going to a university close to Fukuoka, focusing on archaeology. He signed up for the intramural volleyball team, the sport being the only love in his life other than Yamaguchi. Despite them being broken up, he still deeply loved and would always love Yamaguchi. Perhaps in another life, or even a few years...who knew? His motto was always “you never know what will happen.” So after saying goodbye to Yamaguchi and Hinata and tipping his chin up in a mutual agreement to never talk to each other again to Kageyama, he thought those were all the friends he had left at the school. The rest had already graduated, and he didn’t really think of them as friends. Not that he thought Hinata and Kageyama were friends.

Bokuto still tried to get in touch with him, but all his face reminded him of was Kuroo. And he seriously thought he was over that pain in the ass after four years. Plus, Bokuto had his own career and tax-evasion to deal with. Almost every time he tried to call Tsukishima, the call was interrupted by the tax service calling him. So when Bokuto called him up a week after graduation, he just counted the minutes until he had to hang up. However, it seemed as if Bokuto knew about his limited phone time, so he got the information out as quickly as possible.

“Hey, so we’re thinking of rounding up all the members of the dream team—Karasuno, Nekoma, Fukurodani, the works—up for a reunion!” he spat out, barely giving Tsukishima enough time to react before launching into the details of the meetup.

“Anyway, see you there!” Click.

Tsukishima blinked. He blinked again. The third time he blinked, it all registered in his mind.

Kuroo might be there.

He shamelessly RSVP’d to Bokuto’s email immediately afterward.

—

He wasn’t exactly given the dress code for the event, so he played it safe with a simple deep violet button-down and black slacks. He wore his father’s expensive Rolex watch and a thick black belt as if trying to convey to the others that he was already so successful after just graduating. “To the others,” i.e. Kuroo. He stared at himself in the mirror, fixing his glasses for the umpteenth time, only looking away once he thought his ear was melting off his face from staring too long at himself. Finally, once his brother yelled at him to get out of the bathroom, he grabbed his car keys and drove to the homey bar downtown where they sometimes visited after practice games to stock up on carbs and protein. It gave him both PTSD and déjà vu.

He took off his shoes at the entrance and slipped into the slippers they provided, but he nearly fell from tripping at the loud, familiar laughter that echoed throughout the bar. That could only be—

“Beanpole!” Tanaka yelled for the entire bar to turn and witness the drunkard ambling like a toddler up to the blond, slinging his arm around his shoulders as he nursed a bottle of beer. “What’s up, man? I didn’t think you’d have the cojones to show up here!”

“I will never miss you saying that word,” Tsukishima muttered, only earning him another loud bark of laughter. He groaned and pushed Tanaka off him, being caught by Kiyoko.

Hm, they seem to be going strong.

Perhaps not every high school relationship fell apart after high school or long-distance. He ignored the thought for now since he knew it would cause him to fall into a deep depression over his need to break up with Yamaguchi for that very reason. He didn’t need that in the middle of a bar, especially since he was sober.

All his former teammates and rivals were sat around three tables joined together, all laughing and clinking drinks and screaming ‘Banzai!’ until their voices went hoarse. Tsukishima’s eyes scanned the rowdy bar-goers: no sign of who he was waiting for. Yamaguchi noticed him immediately. That wasn’t a huge change from their high school years; he had grown a sort of sixth sense to sense when Tsukishima was around and then to provide him company, even though he looked as if he despised it. He never did.

“Hi, Kei,” Yamaguchi greeted timidly, as if he was scared of his lifelong best friend. They were best friends above all, from when they were boyfriends to now that they’re exes. So that hurt Tsukishima even more than he was already in pain. He was lucky if he didn’t walk away with a shriveled heart by the end of this.

He sat down next to Yamaguchi and crossed his legs, smiling at him politely. He had learned to smile more with Yamaguchi—not because Yamaguchi told him to, but because it had happened so gradually and naturally he had barely noticed it until his mother pointed it out.

“What’ve you been doing this week after graduation?” he asked, trying to make polite conversation, but it was obvious that he was a little tipsy.

“Ooh, nothing,” he slurred.

Okay, more than a little tipsy.

“Just, hehe—” He made a jerking up-and-down motion with his hand, which caused a red blush to overtake Tsukishima’s face at the connotations and the fact that Yamaguchi was being so brazen with his insinuations. “—and looking at internships. Trade school, maybe. I never figured it out in school. I was too busy with...you know.”

His eyes dropped to Tsukishima’s butt before flicking back up to those horrified brown eyes.

“I love baking,” he continued as if he didn’t just say something to get the teammates around them snickering. “Maybe I’ll work at a bakery.”

“It...fits you,” Tsukishima replied, still reeling from the neverending suggestive comments his friend just made.

“Hey, Yams, if those scones you brought us that one practice are any indication, I’m gonna spend all my money on your bakery,” Nishinoya butted in before taking a long swig of beer, being goaded on by Tanaka and Bokuto.

“Heh, thanks,” Yamaguchi mumbled, a blush spreading on his cheeks.

Oh, so that’s what gets you blushing?

Tsukishima got lost in the conversation, especially when more and more alcohol was placed in front of him. He got so lost, in fact, he would have completely missed the doors to the pub opening to reveal the main reason he came to the reunion in the first place. The only thing that pulled him out of his mental fog was Bokuto’s dramatic gasp and sprint to the door to envelop the dark-haired figure in a bear hug.

“Enough, enough—get off me, Bokuto!” Kuroo yelled, bonking Bokuto on the head as a last resort.

“Is that any way to say hello to the love of your life?” Bokuto asked tearfully, batting his eyelashes as Kuroo rolled his eyes.

“Sorry, lovey,” Kuroo grumbled, hooking Bokuto by the back of the neck and pulling him in to kiss him on the cheek. “Better now?”

Bokuto giggled and nodded. “Yeeahh.”

Kuroo turned to his side, and oh, Tsukishima barely recognized him without the awful dye job.

“Get jealous there, Kenma?” Kuroo asked with a wink, to which Kenma rolled his eyes and went back to typing on his phone. Kuroo immediately reached forward and yanked the phone out of Kenma’s hands, pocketing it quickly. “I said no phone tonight.”

“You say that every night,” Kenma mumbled as they walked over to the table.

Tsukishima physically could not tear his eyes away from Tetsurou Kuroo. He looked so...handsome. So beautiful. Genuinely. He looked almost the same, and yet there was a certain aura around him that screamed ‘successful’ and ‘confident’ and ‘good-natured soul.’ He thought Kuroo was attractive in high school…

Oh, he was drooling.

As he wiped his mouth with a napkin, he secretly prayed that Kuroo wouldn’t go anywhere close to him. But that was too much to ask for, apparently, since Kuroo sat right across from him. It was as if he made a beeline just for Tsukishima. Could he maybe still…? No, it was just a coincidence.

“Hey, Kei,” Kuroo said before dissolving into laughter. “Ha, the rhyme never gets old.”

Tsukishima forced on a pained smile, but it wasn’t because the joke wasn’t funny. Well, it wasn’t, but he’d gotten used to the cringiness of it long ago. No, just having Kuroo in the same vicinity was enough to get him sweating profusely, nevermind right across from him, talking to him.

“How are you doing?” Kuroo continued, pouring two glasses of sake.

Get ahold of yourself.

“I should be asking you that,” Tsukishima replied with a nervous laugh, about to reach forward for one of the glasses until Kenma reached for it first. He only processed how awkward it was that his hand was just wavering above the table, so he quickly wrapped it around an empty beer bottle and acted as if it was full.

“Ah, I’m boring,” Kuroo said with a dismissive wave. “Same old, same old.”

“And what is that ‘same old, same old’?” Tsukishima asked, swirling the last drops of beer around the bottle. His entire body was warm. He set down the beer bottle to take off his coat, and he could’ve sworn he saw Kuroo’s eyes give him a once-over before returning to his face. Just the thought caused him to heat up even more. At this rate, he’d be stripped naked by the end of the night. Well, if it meant Kuroo’s eyes would be on him—

Wow, he was drunk.

“Well, office work, mostly,” Kuroo explained with a shrug. “Being a software developer is a lot more boring than it sounds.”

“Are you still playing volleyball?” Tsukishima asked hesitantly, his eyes focused on the table because otherwise, he’d be staring very creepily at the man in front of him.

“Every once in a while when I can get out of the office,” Kuroo replied. “At the local gym. I’ve found a couple of guys.”

“Oh, cool,” Tsukishima said with a bob of his head.

What a lame response.

“Any cuties at work?” he blurted out, and woah, he would take a lame response over the abomination that just left his mouth. He looked down at the beer bottle he was just drinking from to see if it was accidentally pure vodka.

Kuroo seemed more taken aback than Tsukishima himself, which made him want to wallow in self-pity even more.

“Oh, uh—” Kuroo laughed, although it didn’t seem nervous. “No, I’ve actually had my eye on somebody for a while.”

“For a while?” Tsukishima repeated, his eyes brimming with hope. His chest felt as if it would burst. He didn’t imagine their mutual love confession being in the middle of a bar with everybody nearly blackout drunk and falling over themselves, but as long as it happened, he’d be over the moon. He very conspicuously leaned forward and over the table, his eyes dropping to Kuroo’s lips.

“Yeah,” Kuroo replied slowly, his eyes also dropping to Tsukishima’s lips.

This is it, this is it, this is—

“Your eye on somebody? Really? You’re so romantic,” Kenma interrupted sarcastically, so rudely interrupting the moment Tsukishima and Kuroo were having. “It almost makes me forget our anniversary is next week.”

Anniversary…?

“What, you can’t catch my eye?” Oh, God, Kuroo was resorting to baby talk. He lifted a hand and cupped the side of Kenma’s face, and only then was it glaringly obvious that Tsukishima was horribly, horribly wrong. To add insult to injury, the golden band that suddenly appeared on Kuroo’s ring finger glinted atrociously in the light, as if bragging to Tsukishima that it wasn’t his.

“Mmmm,” Kenma hummed absentmindedly, burying his face back in his phone, which he magically got back from Kuroo’s pocket.

“This is why I married you,” Kuroo replied, earning a bout of whooping and happy shouting from amongst the other guests in celebration of the announcement. But Tsukishima was silent. And stone cold.

Without a word, he stood up and tossed his jacket over his shoulder before promptly walking out of the bar into the cool air, but it did nothing to calm the rage and shame mixing pitifully in his chest. He had seriously thought that...with Kuroo...and he would…

I’m such a fucking idiot.

He kicked a rock into the street, which instantly got run over by a car. That’s exactly what Tsukishima’s heart felt like. Crushed ruthlessly.

The opening of the bar door caused him to turn, revealing Yamaguchi stumbling out with near sobriety. His body hadn’t quite caught up, though.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Yamaguchi asked, walking straight up to Tsukishima until he could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“I just needed some air,” he explained, looking up at the sky and how his condensed breath clouded it temporarily until it dissipated.

“You know I know when you lie, Kei,” Yamaguchi replied, raising a brow before his face dawned with realization. “Was it Kuroo? Did he say something?”

“I—no, it’s nothing. It was just really hot,” Tsukishima said, waving Yamaguchi away. “Now go back, you’re missing the fun.”

“What, missing Tanaka throw up on Bokuto and try to clean it up himself and make it worse?” Yamaguchi joked. “Yeah, no thanks.”

They stayed silent for a moment more before Yamaguchi’s soft voice broke the silence.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” Yamaguchi asked, which immediately caught Tsukishima’s attention. Yamaguchi shoved his hands deep into his pockets and sighed. “It was always him.”

“I...don’t know what—”

“Don’t lie to me, Kei!” Yamaguchi shouted, not caring about the passerby giving them strange looks. “I’ve always seen the way you look at him. Ever since that damn training camp...I thought that maybe, maybe I was just making it up because I was insecure, especially when you said you liked me back. But…”

Why did it always end up this way? With Yamaguchi crying his eyes out and spilling out his heart and Tsukishima dying of guilt?

“But you never looked at me the way you looked at Kuroo just now. N-never.” Yamaguchi sniffled and wiped his eyes, but more tears just replaced the others. “Was I just...a replacement? Somebody to have fun with before moving on to somebody else? Was that it?”

“Tadashi, no—”

“Nevermind,” Yamaguchi interrupted, shaking his head emphatically. “I don’t want to know. I’ve already beat myself up enough after you broke up with me. I just...I hope you are happy, Kei. Or at least, I hope you get happy. I hope you find somebody who makes you as happy as Kuroo made you.”

He smiled, but it was so pained that it felt like thousands of little needles were sticking straight in Tsukishima’s chest.

“It’s okay, Kei. It’s okay.” Yamaguchi got on his toes one last time and pressed a long, tender, and tragic kiss onto Tsukishima’s cheek, wet with tears. Only then did he realize he was crying.

“I’ll see you at the next reunion, okay?” Yamaguchi said softly, smoothing out Tsukishima’s shirt. “We’ll both be happy, Tsukishima.”

“I was always happy with you, Tadashi,” Tsukishima croaked, basically pleading for Yamaguchi to listen to him.

Yamaguchi said nothing. Instead, he nodded curtly, pat Tsukishima’s chest, and walked back into the bar. Not long after, he walked back out with his coat, sparing Tsukishima another glance before getting in a taxi and leaving far away from the site of so many happy moments and one horrible, awful, disastrous moment.

Tsukishima was getting ready to leave before the creaking of the bar door caused him to pause, but he didn’t turn his head. It was probably just a stranger, so he continued to search his pockets for his car keys, coming up empty.

“Searching for these?”

A metallic jingle accompanied the voice, belonging to none other than his car keys and Kuroo himself.

Tsukishima made sure the last of his tears were wiped away, but he still felt that his cheeks were burning and his eyes were bloodshot.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” Tsukishima held out his hand and looked down at the sidewalk, awaiting the weight of the car keys in his hand, but it never came, forcing him to look back up and be met with Kuroo’s incredibly close figure who was currently smirking.

“Why are you leaving so early? You just got here,” he asked, raising a brow in suspicion.

“I just got tired,” he explained quickly, motioning to the car keys. “Please.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Kuroo sang, shaking his head. “Aren’t you drunk?”

“Please.” Before long, Kuroo’s teasing got very old, and Tsukishima couldn’t hold himself back from blowing up. “Please give me my keys!”

Kuroo, for the second time that night, was taken aback. It reminded him of the good old days when he would be taken aback with every word Tsukishima said because he expected him to never talk, and when he did, it was always a jab at somebody. He found it amusing, but in this moment, he found it terrifying.

“Tsukki, no way,” Kuroo objected sternly, stuffing the keys in his pocket. “You’re drunk. I’ll drive you home after this; just come back inside.”

“No!” Without thinking, Tsukishima grabbed Kuroo and drove him deeper into an alleyway, throwing him against the wall and shooting his arm out to try and dig his keys out, but Kuroo blocked him in every way possible. “Just let me get my keys!”

“If you want to leave so bad, let me call a—”

“Don’t you understand? Are you that fucking stupid, or are you just blind?” Tsukishima was crying again by now, his face glistening with new tears thanks to the moon shining straight above them. “Let me leave, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“What’s your issue, man?” Kuroo asked, but it was less of a question and more of demand. He continued to hold Tsukishima’s keys hostage, which made him even more desperate to get them. He clawed at Kuroo’s chest, practically falling on top of him with how his legs were failing him.

“Do you seriously not remember? Or notice anything? I don’t remember you being this idiotic,” Tsukishima yelled, and he watched as Kuroo’s face morphed from confusion to calm realization.

“...That was nearly four years ago, Kei,” Kuroo said. This time his voice was low, rumbling deep in his chest, and Tsukishima could feel it through his hands.

“And I never stopped thinking about it! I never stopped thinking about you. You did this to me. You made me fall—” He hesitated, but he had already gone too far. Time to come clean about everything. “You made me fall in love with you! It’s all your fault, and now I have to deal with the consequences. You won’t leave my head no matter what I try. And now you’re fucking married? Did I mean nothing to you? You never...you never talked to me again after that. I…” He raised a trembling hand to his face, hiding it as best he could. “I’ve loved you for so long, it’s ruined my entire life.”

Kuroo was dead silent. The alleyway was silent other than the ambient noise filtering in from the entrance of the alley, of traffic and passerby and animals. The only sound between them was Tsukishima’s panicked panting, trying to get ahold of his own breath, and his strained weeping.

“You’ve always loved me,” Kuroo repeated, and Tsukishima let out a pitiful cry just at the sound of Kuroo saying those words. Kuroo pushed Tsukishima away but only to look him square in the face. “You never contacted me, Tsukki. I was just giving you space to figure things out.”

“I-I-I—” He didn’t have any excuses for that. All he wanted to do was blame everybody around him for his out-of-control feelings other than himself.

How’s that working out for you, Kei?

“Tsukki,” Kuroo started, and just hearing him use that nickname after so long in that low voice made Tsukishima nearly melt. “Tsukki, you were always like a little brother to me. I—”

A pathetic yelp erupted from Tsukishima’s throat at hearing that. Just that sentence alone was enough to kill him entirely.

“But—”

There weren’t any buts. He was now just a walking husk of a man, rejected by the man he’d been yearning after for years, had devoted his dreams and daydreams to just to get by in high school.

“But I’ve never stopped thinking about it,” Kuroo finished. “I never stopped thinking about you. I never forgot about you, Kei. Or what could’ve happened.”

“What could’ve happened…” Tsukishima gasped and clutched Kuroo’s hand, another burst of excitement swelling in him. “Y-you mean—”

“No, Kei, I’m happily married,” Kuroo clarified, showing off that dastardly ring that mocked him in all its beauty. “If we did get together, I know it wouldn’t have lasted very long. But I do know we would’ve been happy during that time. Until we found true happiness in somebody else.”

“Which…” Tsukishima winced, “is what you did.”

Kuroo nodded sagely. “And you will, too. You don’t have to forget me, Kei. You just have to find somebody who doesn’t make you look back on me with regret but with thankfulness that you got to a point where you found somebody you love more than me.” He reached up and caressed the side of Tsukishima’s wet cheek, stroking the red skin with his thumb. “You’ll always be my beanpole middle blocker.”

And you’ll always be my pain-in-the-ass captain.

“I’m gonna go call you a cab,” Kuroo said, motioning to the end of the alleyway they came from. “I’ll see you later, Tsukki. Take care.”

With that, he leaned forward and pressed a soft, short kiss onto Tsukishima’s forehead, leaving him in the alley to wallow in his own tears and self-pity until the cab he called showed up. The entire cab ride, he never let go of his forehead, wanting to preserve the warmth on his skin for as long as possible.

And when he got home, he realized Kuroo had kept his car keys.

Did he do this on purpose?

—

The next day, after taking pain meds for the killer headache assaulting his mind and cringing sufficiently over his actions last night, he finally mustered up the courage to call Kuroo.

The line rang two times before Kuroo picked up.

“Hey.” His voice was like molasses in the morning. “Calling for your car keys?”

“Yes,” Tsukishima replied, coolly as he always did.

“I’ll see you after work,” was all Kuroo said before hanging up.

When Kuroo showed up later that night, he brought somebody familiar with him.

“Sorry about not telling you, but I needed somebody to drive me back,” Kuroo said, motioning to the tall man beside him.

“Is that…” Tsukishima’s eyes raked over the man’s figure before settling on his eyebrows—or rather, lack of them.

“Aone,” he finished for Tsukishima, bowing in greeting. “It’s very nice to see you again, Tsukishima.”

“Enough with the formalities, Aone, geez,” Kuroo joked, punching him playfully in the shoulder. “Well, anyway, here are your keys. I gotta go drop Aone off at a single’s night at a nightclub. Because, you know, he’s single.”

Aone blushed. Tsukishima never thought he’d see the day this concrete block of a man blush. It was...endearing in a way.

“No need to advertise it,” Aone whispered under his breath, which made Tsukishima chuckle sympathetically. Kuroo’s eyes shone.

“Well, anyway, gotta go,” Kuroo said, motioning to the car and tossing Tsukishima the keys, which he barely caught in time since his eyes were stuck on a certain man.

“W-wait,” Tsukishima said, reaching out to get them to stop. “Single’s club? Um...is it any fun?”

Kuroo laughed his usual devil laugh that sounded more annoying than cute now.

“Of course it is, it’s a club,” Kuroo said matter-of-factly. “But I’m sure it’s not your speed.”

Tsukishima paused and looked down at his feet before admitting, “I, uh, can try it out.”

“Oh,” Kuroo said as if he had just been given a critical piece of evidence. “Aone, did you hear that?”

“I’m not deaf.”

“Alright, Tsukki, go get dressed because those pajamas are tacky,” Kuroo demanded, waving Tsukishima away.

He sneered and turned his nose up as he turned his back on the former captain. “Bokuto is rubbing off on you.”

“Never say that to me again.”

Tsukishima held back laughter as he ran back inside, an uncontrollable grin forming on his face. And for the first time after an interaction with Kuroo, he wasn’t the person that stayed in his mind as he left. Tsukishima himself was the man he was thinking about, about how excited he was getting at the possibility of meeting new people. That never happened before because, well...his heart had always been reserved for Kuroo.

Now it was open, open to everybody. Including himself.

#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#fanfic #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo x tsukki #kuroo x tsukishima #tsukishima kei #kenma #tsukishima fanfiction #angst #fanfiction #one shot #oneshot #fluff #hurt comfort

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years ago

Text

you wrote ‘don’t forget’ on your arm // 1 // charlotte&lola (penny&jupiter)

Summary: Jupiter’s going to dress as Lola for the premiere of The Dirt, is dating MGK, and also the premiere happens.

A/N: @misscharlottelee and @local-troubled-writer . I split this into 2 parts because the second part is almost entirely this AU’s version of The Dirt and it was getting too long. Next part to be posted tomorrow!!

Part 1 of 2

----

Jupiter looks like Lola; the same dark hair, same angular face. They’re not a spitting image, they’ve inherited Tommy’s waifishness and green eyes, so the honour of looking like a carbon copy of their mother belongs to Cerie, but whenever people write about Jupiter, on blogs or in magazines, they always feel the need to mention; Jupiter looks like Lola. So with the premiere coming up, Jupiter thinks it’s only fitting; if all anyone sees is their mother, then spitefully, they’ll play into that.

For the record, Alicia, the woman they’ve got playing Lola, looks eerily similar to her, and by extension Jupiter, and Jupiter wonders if it’s egotistical of Freudian to think she’s hot. Whatever; that’ll be their therapist’s problem. The cast for The Dirt is hot, which is an uncomfortable truth that Jupiter has to live with. Even Iwan makes Mick hot, which is somehow way weirder than her mom being hot, because Mick is a gremlin and the only band member Jupiter actually gets along with, their father notwithstanding.

Some time when Jupiter was a teenager, Mick had told them, with the haunted wisdom of a man who has spent over half his life putting up with their parents, that he’d had broken guitars with more common sense than Lola, and Jupiter decided then and there that he was their favourite, and their opinion hadn’t waivered since.

So it’s with a well-worn resentment that they acknowledge how actually stylish Lola was in her youth, not that she isn’t now, but she was more of a punk in her twenties than Jupiter knows they could ever be.

Penny thinks it’s self-destructive behaviour, and that Jup is too old for this shit, but she tags along, never one to pass up a good trawl through a vintage store, that is when she’s not in the studio with Dominic. Jup joins them when they can, when they’re not working on the final touches for their own album.

“Am I allowed to say your mom is hot?” Colson’s laying back on Jup’s sofa, flipping through a scrapbook Tommy had leant him, filled with old newspaper and magazine clippings, trying to find a good photo of Lola, while Jupiter scrolls through pinterest, looking for any and all photos of their mother in her youth. Preferably with clothes on. Christ, Lola. Jupiter shoots him a look, but it’s not angry, it’s just rather… uncomfortable.

“I think you are, but I wish you wouldn’t.”

None of the jackets are ever right; they’ve got the ripped fishnets, the black platforms, the leather shorts, they’d even managed to get their hands on a spiked bra, but for all the leather jackets they’d looked at, none of them were Lola-level of over the top gutter punk. Oh they had spikes upon spikes, and buckles, and a few had some custom detailing, but none of them were right. Up until Motley’s first tour, Lola had lived and died in her black leather jacket, with the spikes on the shoulders, that looked better open than it did zipped up. There was only one option left. They could go to Tommy, but they knew ultimately they’d end up at the same place.

Lionheart Management’s thirty-second floor offices had the same effect on Jupiter as a dentist’s office had on a child; deep seated discomfort, but Jupiter would rather meet her there than have to go to the bullshit family home she shared with Nikki.

Jupiter knocks on the door that bares their mother’s name, grimacing at the little plaque beneath that reminded everyone that she was the CEO. Lola’s voice rings from inside, inviting them in, and she seems pleasantly surprised to see Jupiter when the door opens.

Lola still wears all her earrings she’d given herself in her youth, though now they’re studs rather than safety pins and pieces of wire, as Jupiter had come to see, and for all she’s grown up, she still favours black. Maybe that’s why Jupiter’s always gone for pastels.

“What a lovely surprise,” Lola sits back in her desk chair, haloed the golden records on her wall, and gives a fond smile to her child, “what can I do for you today?” And it kind of stings that Lola knows that Jupiter wants something, though Jupiter considers that that’s no-one’s fault but their own. They don’t make a point of seeing Lola for idle chatter.

“Do you still have that black jacket from the eighties?” Jupiter cuts right to the chase, and Lola frowns a little.

“Which one?”

“The one with the spikes on the shoulders and the weird sort of panel design?”

“I think Nadine gave me that one -” Lola says, something gently faraway about her tone.

“I don’t need it’s history, I’m just asking if I can borrow it.” Jupiter’s tone is sharp, and Lola’s expression falls. After a moment, she agrees quietly, giving a sad smile as she tells Jupiter they can pick it up later that night from her house. Before they turn away, they think they can see what people mean when they say that Jupiter looks like Lola, something haunted, wise beyond her years. They turn away.

“It’s good to see you, Jubilee,” Lola tells them just as Jupiter goes to leave, using the nickname she’d given Jupiter after they’d come out and changed their name, “I’ve heard you’re working on some new music, that’s exciting.” She’s trying so desperately to make some sort of connection with the child who barely acknowledges her, and Jupiter feels a twinge of guilt.

“It’s releasing a month after The Dirt, my album,” Jupiter’s tone is soft and a little cautious, but they turn back in time to see Lola smiling, “I even had Seo and Cyrus help out with one of the songs.” To which Lola actually laughs, warm and fond.

“I heard; Cy has not stopped talking about it, and about how he’s going to thank you when he’s headlining Coachella in a few years time.” Lola enthuses, leaning forward, elbows on her desk, eyes sparkling with amusement. This has Jupiter grinning, amused at their little brothers antics, actually sharing a nice moment with their mom. “Sounds like you’re really keeping busy; dad’s got you and Penny working on some stuff for the premiere, right?”

“Yeah, along with Colson and Dominic,” Jupiter says with a faint smile.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Lola says, a gentle pride in her words, “taking the world by storm, you’re a powerhouse, Jubilee.” And Jupiter feels a strange sort of warmth flourish in their chest.

Lola doesn’t ask why they want the jacket, just hands it over easily when Jupiter comes to pick it up.

When he sees it, Colson whistles low through his teeth, poking at the spikes on the shoulders with an awed fascination.

“Holy shit, dude -”

“Don’t cum too hard, it’s just a jacket,” Jupiter makes a face, but Colson actually snorts.

“Do you know how many guys would give their left nut to touch this jacket?”

“Are you into me or my mom?” Jupiter snaps, and he turns his gaze on them, eyes wide, looking a little guilty. In an instant, he’s put the jacket on the table, and has wrapped Jup up in his arms.

“You, babe, of course, it’s just weird after seeing the replica costuming made; it doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing. I’m into you, Jup,” he adds, “jesus fuck.” Jup will leave enough bites and hickeys on him to remind him of this fact later that night.

They haven’t thought much about the movie itself; they’ve been around set out of sheer curiosity, and also to spend time with the cast, as they’re becoming fast friends, but they don’t actually know even the plot of the movie, or have read the script, and they haven’t been motivated enough to piece together any of this information from the snippets they’ve been on set for. Penny’s got a better grip, mostly because she, Lola, and Tommy have had meetings with the director, writers, and actors on how to handle Charlotte and Razzle with sensitivity, but Penny never talks to Jupiter about it, she knows Jupiter, for lack of a better phrase, would rather be surprised by the movie.

So their expectations are low by the time the premiere comes around, but they’re going all out, getting ready with Penny and the hair and makeup team they’ve hired for the occasion.

Dark hair dark eyes, the makeup and hair women do a fantastic job, and Penny’s quiet for a long moment after the reveal.

“They did good?” Jupiter asks with a sharp smile, and Penny gives her a strange smile, a nod, but no words leave her lips. Jupiter doesn’t quite know how to take that, so they get dressed, leather shorts over ripped fishnets, knee-high black platforms that make them taller than any person should rightly be. They’d inherited most of Tommy’s height, which now, with six-inch platforms, is more of a curse than a blessing at 6′7″, but it doesn’t matter. They pull on the spiked bra, and leave their room with Lola’s jacket in their arms.

And Penny is silent.

“Holy shit.” Soft, eyes wide and awed, Penny takes them in, and Jupiter feels a strange sort of discomfort. “You look just like her.” Penny looks stunning in her own right, in a gorgeous, vintage-inspired jumpsuit, hair styled big, looking every bit like her parents’ daughter. Before her words could really sink in, she’s giving a bright smile, rifling through her bag, “we should get a polaroid; Andy and Sami asked if I could send a photo of us from tonight.”

They get a photo together, wait for it to develop before sending it to both the kids’ groupchat, affectionately titled Bastards Incorporated, as well as the group text Penny’d started with the rest of Hanoi Rocks after visiting them a few years ago.

Sami Yaffa sends back ‘holy shit pennylope and kid lee!! what a blast from the past’ and Jupiter feels like they’re hearing that a lot lately. He follows it with a few kind words about how authentic they look, and how their parents would be proud. Penny pretends like she isn’t tearing up a little at that, and Jupiter pretends like they don’t take the comment as a compliment.

Meanwhile, in Bastards Incorporated, populated by the various Lee and Sixx children, amid compliments, Cyrus has changed Jupiter’s nickname from Daddy Kink to Electra Complex 😘 and Cerie is sending selfies from the limousine that’s on it’s way to Jupiter and Penny.

[Jupiter] Electra Complex 😘: cyrus im gonna break all the bones in your arm [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: im ambidextrous [Jupiter] Electra Complex 😘: *arms [Cerie] Evil Cyrus sent a photo to Bastards Incorporated. [Penelope] the only valid lee: Cerie sTOP you look incredible!! [Cerie] Evil Cyrus ❤️ reacted. [Jupiter] Electra Complex 😘: wait is that SEO NOT WEARING A HOODIE [Seo] King of the Ripsticks ❤️ reacted. [Cerie] Evil Cyrus sent a photo to Bastards Incorporated. [Penelope] the only valid lee: SEO YOU LOOK SO GOOOOOOOD [Seo] King of the Ripsticks ❤️ reacted. [Seo] King of the Ripsticks: 🤵

Since turning 18, no-one outside of the family has seen Seo’s face without his hoodie and sunglasses, a personal choice, and kind of a gimmick to make him more memorable in the skating scene, so when Penny and Jupiter slide into the limousine to see him dressed to the nines, in a powder blue suit with his hair blown out, it comes as a welcome surprise, and they both shower him with compliments.

“Oi!” Cyrus cuts in where he’s sitting opposite them beside his twin, “what about me?”

“You look like a rat,” Jupiter tells him, despite how well dressed he also was. Cyrus flips them off, “Cerie you look stunning.” Jupiter tells her with a warm sincerity, and Cerie gives a toothy grin. Cerie’s always had the makings of a model, and in a sparkling, champagne colored dress and understated makeup, she’ll outshine them all with ease.

“Come on,” Cyrus whined, before tugging at the lapels of his jacket, doing the bottom button up, putting on his most winning grin as he turned on Penny, “come on, Pen, thoughts?” And Penny, ever the favourite cousin, humours him.

“You look great, Cy; I can’t believe you’re wearing a keyboard tie, but somehow it looks good on you, bud,” and at her praise, Cyrus practically preens.

“I can’t believe you’re dressed as mom,” Cerie’s a little disbelieving when she finally takes in Jupiter’s attire, quickly making mention that they look spectacular, it’s just a little jarring.

“You look -”

“Just like her, I know,” Jup gives a tired smile, and pulls out a hand mirror to touch up their lipstick, “it’s kind of the point.”

They all enthuse about the film, about the story they’re about to witness, about how it’s probably going to be weird to see their parents like that - Penny is quiet. And Jupiter takes her hand without a word.

They step out onto the red carpet one at a time, first the twins, Cyrus leading like the peacock he is, followed by Cerie, then Seo. Jupiter goes to leave, but Penny won’t move, won’t let go of their hand.

“What if they tell it wrong, after everything, they tell it wrong?” She asks, a shake in her voice that Jupiter knows all too well.

“Then we’ll burn the theatre to the ground -”

“Don’t be like Lola for just a fucking minute, Jup; this is really important to me, I know you don’t get it, but arson won’t fix if they’ve ruined my family’s memory, you know?”

Jupiter pauses for a long moment before wrapping Penny up in a hug, just as she had so many times for Jupiter before. Penny dabs delicately at her eyes before her tears can ruin her makeup.

“Our family wouldn’t let them release anything that didn’t do your parents justice; you wouldn’t sign off on anything that wouldn’t do them justice.” Jupiter tells her with the utmost seriousness, though Penny’s expression is still doubtful.

“But what if I got it wrong?”

“Penelope Dingley Lee, first of her name, if your parents were here, they’d be so immeasurably proud of you, because they loved you more than anything else in the world,” they took Penny’s face in their hands, made sure she was looking at them, “you couldn’t fail them even if you tried.”

Together, they face the crowd, who go wild at the sight of them, and smile like this isn’t one of the most uniquely strange and painful experiences of their lives. Flashbulbs go off and Jupiter strikes pose after pose, soaking up the attention with Penny by their side. They get to their siblings, to the rest of their family, there’s shock, and surprise, and when they look at Lola, wearing a black, velvet dress with her hair slicked back, she’s shocked.

“Look at you,” Tommy marvels with a million-watt smile, “this is one hell of a stunt, kiddo, you look fantastic!” And he wraps them up in a hug, looking proud as punch.

Mick is laughing harder than Jupiter’s ever seen him laugh before, and Vince and Nikki are wearing almost identically fond and disbelieving smiles. But Lola is unreadable.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Mick makes his way to Jupiter, pats them fondly, and Jupiter makes a point of patting his head with their enhanced height, “you wear it well, kiddo; didn’t realise those two had good genes to pass on but it seems they did.” Tommy, who overheard the remark, sees Mick’s good-natured smile and teasing tone, and flips him off with a smile of his own, while Lola snickers.

“Fuck you, you geezer,” she tells him with a well worn fondness, before looking back at her child, who suddenly feels strangely nervous, though they try their best to cover it with bravado.

“They say I look like you,” Jupiter says with a smirk, and Lola shakes her head, expression turning amused. The rest of the family and the band is busy taking photos, but Lola tentatively approaches Jupiter, asks if she can hug them. Jupiter, who’s never really been one for physical contact, acquiesces, bending to hug their mother.

“You have a much better head on your shoulders than I did at your age,” Lola mutters, and gives Jupiter a squeeze, before adding, “you look so badass, sweetheart.”

Jupiter has no idea what they were expecting, but this almost definitely wasn’t it. Lola and Jupiter get countless photos together, and in the moments that follow, when the cast arrive, Alicia almost doubles over with laughter, crowing about how they should have cast Jup instead. The three of them get a photo together, and it’s one of the proudest moments of Lola’s life.

Focus from Jupiter dies down as people are splitting off to get photos with their doubles; Max and Josie tug Penny away to get a cheesy family photo with her, while the band and cast were taking side by side comparisons.

By the time Douglas has reintroduced himself to Seo, not recognizing him without his hoodie and sunglasses,the rest of Lola’s kids are doing an incredibly poor job of hiding their laughter.

“Dude, who is that?” Colson asks Jupiter, trying his hardest to be discrete. Jupiter raises their eyebrows, casting their gaze to Seo before looking back at Colson.

“That’s my brother.”

“How many do you have?”

“Four.”

“And that one’s -”

“Seo.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Colson half laughs, looking back at where Seo was taking photos of Cerie on her phone for her instagram, “are you- that’s Seo? Seo! Dude!” He calls, and Seo looks over in their general direction, flashes a toothy smile, before turning back. “That dude was under that hoodie that whole time? Guess I owe Daniel five bucks.”

“What?” Jupiter laughs, and Colson looks a little sheepish, wrapping an arm around them as a photographer calls their names.

“We all had a bet about what was under his hood,” Colson tells them, posing for the camera, “Iwan’s money was on alopecia -”

“He thought Seo just had no hair?” Jupiter snorted.

“I was thinking embarrassing face tattoo, Doug had weird-coloured hair, and Daniel had -”

“Regular dude?”

“Weirdly handsome dude, actually, and I can’t believe he’s spot on -”

“And I can’t believe you seem to have a thing for my whole family,” Jupiter gave him a gentle shove, while Colson gave a rougish grin.

“Only ‘cos if I think too hard about you, lookin’ the way you look, we’re not gonna make it to the actual movie,” he murmured in their ear, and Jupiter swallowed hard, smile widening on their face.

“The movie starts in half an hour; meet me in the second story bathroom in ten minutes,” and with that, they split, each moving to take more photos, Colson doing a few interviews while Jupiter made their way to the bathroom discretely.

Before he leaves, Colson can’t help but say hello to the oldest Sixx child; Seo squints at him for a moment before smiling.

“Hey man, good to see you,” he says, and without a doubt, that’s Seo’s unflappable baritone.

“Gotta say, man, you clean up nice, almost didn’t recognise you,” Colson admits, wrapping an arm around Seo’s shoulders as they take a few pictures together. Seo looks at whoever calls his name loudest, smiling brightly. “How you doing man?”

“Great, man, like a pig in shit,” he says, “can you do me a favour?”

“Depends, what’s up?”

“Point me in Penny’s direction; she’s wearing the same colour thing as Cyrus and I am fucking lost,” he laughs, and Colson does a double take, which Seo seems to miss, “Cerie was right, I should have just worn my damn glasses.”

“Dude, are you blind?”

“Legally, yeah, can’t properly see anything that’s not six inches away from my face.” And suddenly things are make a lot more sense.

“Your sunglasses are prescription, aren’t they?” Colson steers him in the direction of Penny, who caught sight of the pair of them, meeting them in the middle.

“Bingo,” Seo tells him with a grin, before letting Penny tuck her arm in his. After a beat, he adds, “thanks Daniel.”

“Actually I’m -” Colson goes to correct, actually a little embarrassed, but Seo snickers.

“It’s a joke, Kells, I know it’s you,” and he adds, “Jup left like twelve minutes ago, if you were looking for her.” And it’s eerie that he knows that he was. But it sounds like a blessing, if anything, and Colson tries to get away as unnoticed as possible.

[Cyrus] DJ Dumbass sent a photo to Bastards Incorporated. [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: JUPITER WHERE U @ UR BOYFRIENDS ESCAPING [Jupiter] Electra Complex 😘: none of your business [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: :O [Penelope] the only valid lee: they’re really in character ;) [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: lmao what if i sent a screenshot to lola [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: Jup [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: @Electra Complex 😘 Penelope changed Cyrus’s nickname to QUIT SNITCHIN MFKER. [Cyrus] QUIT SNITCHIN MFKER: they’re not even RESPONDING [Cyrus] QUIT SNITCHIN MFKER: @Electra Complex 😘 this is the fuckin funniest i can’t believe you’ve been possessed by the spirit of 80s mom on tonight of all nights [Penelope] the only valid lee: since they aren’t here to defend themselves, cyrus im gonna rip out ya spine mortal kombat style [Seo] King of the Ripsticks and [Cerie] Evil Cyrus ❤️ reacted. [Cerie] Evil Cyrus: a threat jup would be proud of [Penelope] the only valid lee ❤️ reacted. [Cyrus] QUIT SNITCHIN MFKER: thats fair

Jupiter doesn’t mind, just this once, that history, in it’s own twisted way, repeats itself. If both of them look a little too pleased, a little too rumpled, no-one comments; it’s in the spirit of the film after all.

#tommy lee #Razzle Dingley #razzle x charlotte #lola & charlotte #mgk x jupiter #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #colson baker #colson baker imagine #mgk #mgk imagine #the angry lizard writes

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

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Survey #281

“is there a method to your madness, is it all about pride? ‘cuz everyone i know, they’ve got a demon inside.”

Has anyone ever told you that you looked like a celebrity? No, just a video game character and an animated movie girl when I had black hair. What color is the pillowcase(s) on your bed? Brown. Do you have a favorite day of the week? Tuesday because it’s reset day in WoW and as a mount farmer, that means I get to try my raids for the week again to continue to be denied. :’) Have you ever been in an art show? An art show, I don’t think so. I’ve had two or three things in an art museum, though. Would you consider yourself to be well-exposed to life or sheltered? I’m pretty split down the middle, I’d say. I’ve seen far more emotional pain than I think most young adults have, but at the same time, I’ve very under-exposed to adult experiences. How high is your pain tolerance? It depends on the type of pain. I can particularly say I do NOT handle stomach pains well, though. Have you ever played the game Halo? Nah, those weren’t my type. Have you ever had to learn lines for a play/skit/movie? Only songs sung together for plays in elementary school. Never solo. Do you like your nose? … Sure? Kissing someone with facial hair, do you mind? I don’t care. Would you ever like to be a stunt person? I’m fucking dumb, I read this and thought “you mean little people?” until I read the last person’s answer lmaooo. Anyway, no. I’m not ballsy enough for that shit. Are you a pyromaniac? I find fire pretty, but it still can scare me if I’m too close to it. Are you one of those people who listen to songs on repeat? 110%, it’s literally what I’m doing now lmao. Can any of your friends sing very well? SARA. Would you ever enter any kind of pageant? No, no, no, no. I really don’t support pageants of any type I can think of, beauty in particular. What a way to scream “HEY THEY’RE BETTER THAN YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!”, again, especially in beauty pageants. That fucks people up. What a way to start things like self-loathing, eating disorders, body dysphoria, etc. Do you have piano fingers? Mom has always told me that, “like Grammy.” Have you ever slept on a beach? YIKES, no. I ain’t fuckin’ with the tides going in and out or just a massive wave. I’d also feel WAY too vulnerable. Would you like to be taller? I’m cool with my current height. Are you a fan of piercings on the opposite sex? I just like piercings in general. Have you ever been attacked by an animal? No, besides play getting too rough. Is there a movie that makes you cry every single time you watch it? It’s easy to do that lol. The Notebook in particular will 100% make me tear up. What's your opinion on Johnny Depp? He’s an incredibly talented actor that I find very attractive, but I don’t know him as a person. Can you speak in different accents? Just British and southern. Who was the last person you mocked/mimicked? My nephew, playfully of course. If you write, isn't writer's block the most horrible thing? THE ABSOLUTE WORST. What size shirt do you normally wear? Ugggghhh generally 2XL, I think. It can be one size smaller or one size larger depending on the shirt. Has anyone ever aimed a gun at you? Yikes, no. Have you ever written a song? Just poems. Do you believe there is life on other planets? It’s possible, but I don’t particularly lean a certain way, I think. The universe is just… infinite, you know? But also the circumstances that life rose within Earth were so remarkably perfect to support it that I don’t entirely know if it’s been duplicated elsewhere. When was the last time you fell? Around two weeks ago? I have extremely low blood pressure naturally but also amplified by medications’ side effects, and I got out of bed too fast when I woke up. Hurt my knees pretty bad and barely missed my head hitting the couch. Do you have any sort of debt? I do NOT want to think about this. Is there a specific time period that interests you? The era of dinosaurs of course, as well as the Renaissance, just to name a couple. Do any of your friends own an expensive car? *shrugs* Have you ever been on a train? No. Have you ever been in a parade? No. Are you, or anyone you know, an atheist? I know plenty. Have you ever sent a celebrity fan mail? No. Have you ever been in a musical? No. Is there a friend's family that makes you feel like you're family too? Yeah, Sara’s. Even though I’ve only been with them not that long of a time, they’re wonderful and made me feel so welcome. Do you ever have a fear of getting close to new people? Boy, do I!!!!! It’s funny though, because at the same time, I want to be close with people; I want to rush to the point I have a close friend. It’s weird. What is the worst things about work? N/A And the best? N/A Do you like to sleep in? Not really, honestly. I feel groggy and lazier than I naturally am lmao. Do you like to be an early bird? Well I’m in my best mood in the morning, but I don’t like waking up early. However, I’ve been planning a morning routine to adopt once we move that involves waking up at like 7 or so, so we’ll see how much I enjoy mornings then. But oh boy do I have a habit of saying I’ll do something and then not doing it, so… What is something you notice you just don't watch? History stuff and usually action. Last thing that bothered you even if just a little bit? Something Miss Tobey said to me a few days ago. Last thing that seemed a blessing from above? I don’t believe in supernatural “blessings,” but I’ll bite. The thing that made me happiest recently was uhhhh… I actually don’t know. Nothing that REALLY felt “blessing-ish.” Do you usually drink diet or regular soda? Regular; I can’t do diet. It tends to taste horrible but more importantly the artificial sweetener gives me a wicked headache. Are you on a diet? Not a diet, no. I’m more so just trying to make it a habit to simply eat better and not snack. Someone you highly respect who is not in your family? Sara’s dad. Did you say 'goodnight' to anyone last night? I don’t think I did. Does anyone ever comment on the appearance of your handwriting? People tend to point out it’s really nice. Have you looked at anyone's Facebook profile lately? Whose? Nah. Did you have a cake for your last birthday? What kind? Yeah, red velvet. Can you recall the first horror film you ever watched? How old were you? I actually don’t think I can. Maybe Paranormal Activity? Or The Blair Witch Project? When’s the last time that you mailed a letter or a package to someone, and who was it to? Sara’s bday gift I think. The last book that you checked out from the library? I haven’t done that in years. What was your pet’s last vet visit concerning? Roman got neutered, and the only time I took Venus to the vet was when I first got her and she refused food for almost a year. Changed the tactic of warming the mouse up and she was more than happy to snag it. Which animals do you tend to go check out first at the pet store? The reptiles, because they’re closest and also my favorite section. Last medication or item that you picked out from the drugstore? Nicole picked up a bunch of my prescriptions that needed refilling. Do you usually have a big list or a small list when you go to the grocery store? I don’t do the shopping here, so it’s not my choice. How much was the last check you deposited? How about the last amount that you took out? I have no clue. Have you ever been admitted into the emergency room? For what? Being suicidal and then a suicide attempt. Have you ever been arrested before? Ridden in the back of a police car? No to the first, but yes to the second because that’s just how you’re transported from the ER to the psych hospital here. Have you ever been a victim of a house fire? Thank God no. When did you graduate high school? 2014. How much gas can fit in your gas tank? N/A Does your vehicle break down a lot? N/A What’s the longest you’ve ever had to wait before being seated at a sit-down restaurant? I want to say at LEAST 45 minutes once. Can’t remember why it was so busy, though. Have you ever had a cavity before? How about a root canal? A tooth pulled? Braces? I’ve had cavities and braces, but thank Christ no root canals, and I’ve never had to have a tooth pulled by the dentist, either. Which art forms do you appreciate the most? Man, you can’t ask this to someone who enjoys art so deeply. Like I really don’t know what I enjoy *most*. Music can give me chills, poetry can be so rich and, well, poetic, and traditional artwork strikes awe and makes you wonder how they do it. I just adore art. What is your favorite zoo animal that you would like to set free? To start, I have very mixed feelings about zoos, but I guess I am *mostly* in favor of humane, adequately providing captivity to a certain degree as this allows for conservation of especially endangered species, and zoos also make it easier to study and understand the silent voices of those we share the earth with. As well, they offer a safe environment to expose the fearful to all sorts of animals, and I feel it is very, very important for humans as the alpha species to care for and understand (as best our language barriers allow) our wonderful neighbors. That being said, I definitely believe that a lot of zoos under-provide for their animals, and this is horribly heartbreaking so that I absolutely disagree with their “right” to own and display animals, but for this specific question, I am going to use my state’s zoo as the standard here. Ashboro, imo is pretty damn great and generous to their animals (you should see the miles of land the elephants, bison, antelope, and rhinos have!), but the exhibit that comes to mind first when mentioning animals I’d like to set free iiiis… you know, I don’t know. I was going to say the polar bears since it can get STUPID hot here in the summer and their abode doesn’t have a great amount of ice that survives the sun, but at the same time I’d be very wary about returning a polar bear home for… obvious reasons. I say “I don’t know” because I’m not gonna pretend to know what ample space is for so many different kinds of animals. Damn, now I really wanna go there. Wow this was a long answer to a p simple question lmao. Favorite kind of fish? I don’t have a distinctly “favorite” fish, really. I don’t know enough of ‘em, but I can say I really like clownfish and angelfish. What kinds of museum artifacts fascinate you? Whew, as someone who took Art History just last year in school, ancient art pieces of all sorts! It is so, so fascinating, watching the evolution of art and to see how the urge to just create extends so, so far back into history. Have you ever gone to court before? For a disability case, yes. Also to convince a judge that I didn’t need to stay in a mental hospital for I think the original plan was around six months. What is the last song that you danced to? Ha ha I watching Hotel Transylvania with my niece and nephew and did the macarena with ‘em. What’s your favorite alcoholic drink? Margaritas or sangrias. Is there anyone that you’ve visited in jail? No. Are you more likely to fly in an airplane, or pick people up/drop them off at the airport? Historically, pick people up. Which sporting event would you be most likely to sit through? Dance competitions. Favorite flavor of ice cream? Cone or dish? Any sprinkles? My favorite Basic Bitch flavor is vanilla, just with chocolate syrup. Cone or dish just depends on what I’m feelin’, really. I hate sprinkles on anything; the texture throws me off. Have you ever cut your own hair? No. What do you eat most frequently? Uggghhhh some form of bread, probably. Are you a fan of video games? Yeah, but not as much as I used to be. What's your favorite color combination? Idk really, I like a lot. I will say though that orange and black excites me bc Halloween Vibes. Did you share a locker at school? No. What's one sport you could never play? Wrestling, ew. Have you ever sung karaoke? Oh god no. What is the oldest age you think should wear makeup? lmao BRO tell me this a joke How old were you when you went on your first date? Idr, sometime in the 7th grade, if group dates in middle school even count? lol Has anyone besides your family seen you naked? Yeah. If so, who? An ex and probably doctors at some point? Did your parents sign you up for anything you hated as a child? Sunday school, really. Have you purchased any cool objects from a foreign country? Considering I’ve never left the country, no. Are you on a laptop or a desktop computer right now? I only have a laptop. Do you remember anyone's number by heart? No, but I seriously need to memorize my mom’s. Do you live above, below, or on the Equator? Above. Do you know how to use Photoshop? I know how to do a decent number of things, but I’m definitely no expert. Where was your first job? I was a sales associate at GameStop. What's the best place you have ever eaten? Olive Garden is fucking fantastic, fite me about it. Do you own a hair straightener? No, I don’t need one. Are you barefoot right now? I always am at home unless it’s cold enough to need slippers. Are you subscribed to any magazine? Nah. Do you need AC right now? No; it’s actually pretty cold inside rn. Do more people call you by a nickname or your first name? It’s just a derivative of my first name; “Britt.” But I guess that classifies as a nickname. Name something you're proud of. Deciding to actually *try* to move on and making massive progress through it with That Person. Lately I’ve wondered if I truly have, though. My PTSD has been really bad of the late. Does any accent annoy you? I can’t say it “annoys” me, given you can’t really control your accent, but I do find it difficult to understand extremely southern accents, even as a local. Do you take vitamins? This just reminded me I’ve been out of my Vitamin D prescription for a while… oops. I’m supposed to take it for my legs. When was the last time you took aspirin or some other pain reliever? Yesterday, actually. I had a pretty bad headache. When was the last time you deeply regretted something? God, last night, I was remembering and accepting some things. Lemme just say I regret the everloving fuck out of the subject. What is something that you regularly wear that makes you stand out? Besides my lip ring, nothing in particular. Do you prefer small birthday parties or big ones? Small. I just don’t like big gatherings in general. What song are you listening to now? “Creatures X: To The Grave” by Motionless In White. What was the most traumatic experience of your life? The breakup w/ Jason. I’ve told the story enough in surveys and I don’t wanna recite it again. Who was your childhood best friend? Brianna. Are you still friends now? On Facebook, anyway, but we don’t talk. If not, why? We just drifted apart. What is one career you don't think you could do no matter how much it paid? Butcher. No fucking way. Have you ever edited Wikipedia? No. Have you ever edited any other wiki? Oh yeah; I’m an admin at the Silent Hill wiki and have invested hours upon hours upon hours helping out there for years. I’m also a content moderator at the Team Ico wiki, and I’ve also assisted a lot at the meerkats wiki because it is a fucking grammatical and formatting catastrophe. I think that’s it? Wait no, I did a few fixes on the Dragons of Atlantis wiki when it was still at the Kabam website, too. Is there a website [besides social networking] that you check almost daily? Yeah, a few. Do you get scared when you know some virus or sickness is being passed? I wouldn’t say I get scared, no. Just more aware and cautious. What’s the worst illness you’ve had? I’ve had a fucking wicked stomach virus before. (TMI alert?) I would not stop puking to the point it was agonizing to the point of tears because my muscles were so exhausted. Which do you prefer: M&M's, Skittles, or Reese's Pieces? BITCH can I choose all???? But in almost any chocolate-related case, I will choose a Reese’s product. Where on your body would you never get a tattoo? I don’t plan on getting a face tattoo, or at least a big one. Maybe something small and cute. OH YEAH EW absolutely never getting my sclera tattooed. That looks painful as a motherfucker. Honestly, have you ever stuck gum under a table or desk? No, that shit is disgusting. If your parents could read your thoughts, would you be in trouble? Not usually. Mom might be mad sometimes when I’m angry at her. Have you ever egged somebody's house or car? No, that’s childish as shit. My childhood house was egged once, so it pisses me off especially. Do you like licorice? UGH no, that shit is disgusting. Did anybody ever read bedtime stories to you when you were younger? My mom did. Which natural disaster do you find the most terrifying? Tornadoes or earthquakes. Do you have a favorite Johnny Depp movie? What is it? Alice in Wonderland. If I gave you a Yo-Yo right now, could you do any tricks? Nope.

#survey #quiz #questions #questionnaire

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vaingloriosa · 6 years ago

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God Shot

Connor x Reader

Words: 1,807

Summary: The moment he stepped into your humble coffee shop, you knew you were done for. The moment his eyes met yours, Connor was done for.

Prompt: “So… you come here often?” “I work here.”

Author’s note: most of this was written after i got a root canal done so if it sounds wonky, blame my root canal self. she....she’s still valid ://

God Shot: a shot of espresso that is so good, and inexplicable, that it is believe to be blessed by God

masterlist

When Hank gave up drinking a few days ago, he traded in alcohol for coffee.

Connor would scold the Lieutenant about the effects of coffee by listing off the harmful effects of caffeine consumption. Though, after the third attempt to get Hank to reconsider his decision by reminding him the addiction to caffeine is real, Connor gives up as Hank pours himself another cup while making direct eye contact with him.

It’s on the sixth day when Hank brings Connor along for his “new” morning routine.

Hank never noticed the small coffee shop down the street that apparently opened two months ago until turning over a new leaf. Connor had noticed the construction of the small shop but didn’t pay much attention due to the nature of his chaotic lifestyle. The bell on top of the door signals their arrival and Connor takes in the homey autumn decorations all around the shop. Several patrons sit quietly along the window in hushed tones, light pop music surrounds the room, and the sounds of fingers typing over keyboardless keyboards and coffee grinders blend together in odd harmony. The air is thick with the smell of ground up coffee beans with a hint of spices, pumpkin, Connor supposes. A sweet voice that exclaims Hank’s name lifts him out of his observation.

Connor turns his attention to the barista before him and feels his thirium pump skip a beat. Unusual.

“Good morning! Looks like you brought a friend this time.” You nod your head over to address the man besides your usual customer. You notice him swallow thickly and bashfully nod his head, extending his arm out for you to take.

“I’m Connor.”

Connor.

Your name leaves your lips as you shake his hand with a firm grip. The touch of his skin against yours makes you develop goose skin and you tell yourself you can’t be developing another crush. You bite your bottom lip and curse yourself for getting hot in the face.

“Connor’s my partner over at the precinct.” Hank gives you a side smile as he picks up on the way you look at him.

“Ah, it’s nice to finally meet you. Hank has mentioned you a few times, nothing but nice things of course, and it’s, uh, nice to put a face to a name,” you manage to say among the heart palpitations you’re currently experiencing. Connor looks over to the Lieutenant then back at you with an arched eyebrow.

Hank shrugs at his odd behavior. “What? Would you rather I talk shit about you behind your back?”

You snicker at their exchange as you whip up Hank’s regular order of black coffee with three sugars. From your peripheral, you can tell the two are exchanging some “heated” words and you can’t help but feel your ears burn. Sometimes you wish you didn’t have such a hopeless romantic heart.

You slide the coffee cup across the counter just as the argument dies down on their tongues. Hank gives you a few dollars and tells you to keep the change. You smile, waving a goodbye to Connor who lingers a bit after Hank heads towards the door. Connor feels the breath caught behind his throat as he notices that you’re actually waving at him. He waves back as a small smile graces his lips and you swear if other people weren’t around, you would have melted on the spot.

Connor can’t get you out of his mind.

When he notices that Hank isn’t going to the shop anymore, he passively asks what happened to the routine he had going for him. Hank waves him off, saying that work has gotten in the way and had settled on the filmy black liquid in the break room. Now Connor doesn’t have an excuse to see you.

Or does he?

Three days into a tough investigation involving a series of murders, Connor looks up to notice Hank nose deep in several files with fingers carding his grey hair. His eyes shift towards the empty coffee cup on half-haphazardly abandoned near the edge of his desk.

“Do you want a refill?” Connor asks in a non-conspicuous tone. Hank lets out a huff and waves his hand in the general area of the cup and leans back on his chair. Connor gets up and makes his way towards the break room. He makes sure that no one is watching him as he removes his synthetic skin to touch the coffee maker. In a matter of seconds, Connor causes the appliance to break from the inside.

The break room needed a new coffee maker that didn’t violate several health and safety codes anyways.

With his plan set in motion, Connor waltzes over to the Lieutenant’s desk with newfound purpose. “Unfortunately, the coffee machine is broken. Could I-”

Before he can finish his thought, Hank shoves his hands into his jacket pocket and slams a few dollars on the hard surface for Connor to take. He waves for him to scram, dismissing him to do what needs to be done in order for him not to crash and burn. A small smile creeps along the corners of Connor’s mouth as he finds another peep in his step.

His plan is finally in motion.

It’s an overwhelming sensation to try and figure out humanity at its core. What it means to feel, to show emotion, to say the right things and do what is appropriate for that scenario. Even a year after everything that has happened, Connor is still learning about the world around him from a different, LED-less perspective. He’s still bound to fuck up on some things.

Like when he nearly loses his composure once he sees your face. The always graceful android is mere thrium mush when he’s around you. Your smile brightens up the room with a halo like aura around you.

You’re absolutely stunning.

And you’re absolutely stunned when you find Connor alone without his friend.

Your mouth becomes slightly agape but you catch yourself by smiling. You weren’t expecting him after a few days absence. You thought that maybe they finally grew tired of the coffee shop you own and perhaps forgotten all about it. You even thought that you would never see Connor again and you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel the heaviness in your chest.

“Hey, Connor! Long time no see, eh?” Eh? Really? You really went with such a stupid noise as “eh”? You want to slap yourself for making a fool out of yourself in front of your crush. Connor lets out an airy laugh and places his hands along the smooth white marble counter.

“I apologize. A tough investigation has our hands tied up,” Connor explains but the ending of his sentence isn’t lost on you; making you raise an eyebrow. Connor squints a little at your facial expression, unable to decipher such an odd response. You find the confused look on his face cute and you can’t help but snort out loud. You press a hand on your lips and shake your head.

“Um, never mind me! There’s no need to apologize, really. It’s just....good to see you again.” You quickly change the subject as you shift your gaze from his earthy brown eyes to the counter top. Gosh, you wish you would stop getting hot in the face every time you make eye contact with him.

“It’s nice to see you again, too,” Connor says your name and you feel as if you ascended to heaven once more. You peer over to him as a fond smile forms on his lips. You can’t help but reciprocate the action and you go back to feeling of weak knees and goosebumps that form along your arms.

“So,” you perk up immediately, “what can I get for ya?”

He reaches into his suit jacket pocket to fish for Hank’s money. “Hank’s usual, please.”

As you turn your back towards the coffee machine, Connor looks at both his sides to make sure no one is staring. Even with an encyclopedia for a mind, there’s a difference between knowing the connotation of a word and actually performing said behavior. He props his elbow on the counter top and rests his head on his closed fist. Connor relaxes his body so that he’s crossing his legs to be suave and without all the tension in his shoulders. When you return with the cup of coffee, your heart stops as your eyes lay upon Connor’s.

Upon your return, his mind gets wrapped up by your presence and all logic gets thrown out the window.

“So… you come here often?”

You place the coffee cup down on the counter. You can’t help but grin at Connor’s attempt at flirting. “I work here.”

Connor shuts his eyes and licks his bottom lip. Your breath gets caught in the back of your throat and you brace yourself by placing your hand on the cool marble.

“That’s right, you...yeah.” Oh, he most definitely blew it. Connor tries to play this off coolly and swipes the coffee cup into his hands then tries to leave.

“Wait!” you say, gesturing with your hands for him to stop while you raise the wooden door of the side counter. Connor turns to you and tilts his head. He can feel his thirium pump quicken but he’s aware of the sensation already. His whole body seems to cinch as he watches you approach him. Connor has never been this close to you before and he’s afraid he might shutdown because of it.

“Hey, I, um, I thought what you did was cute. Most of the time flirting can be awful but, sometimes it’s not all that bad when it comes from the right person. A genuine one at that.”

You press your hands against your cheek and chuckle at the fact that you’re really doing this. “When will I see you again?”

It’s Connor’s turn to be a flustered idiot. You can see a visible blue tint along his cheeks and you bite down on your tongue to stop yourself from screaming out loud. Gosh, he’s just as nervous, isn’t he?

“Well, I can come by tomorrow if you’d like?”

You beam up at him and you place your hands behind your back. “I’d love that.”

You two bid farewell for now. As you two separate, both of you go into your own type of giddiness. You dance a little to the soft music on the speakers as you return to your post behind the counter. Connor can’t help but smile at what just unfolded in a matter of minutes. He looks down at the coffee then realizes something scrawled on the brown sleeve.

It’s your phone number.

You didn’t need a pickup line for your own plan to be set in motion.

It worked.

Tagging: @kwaiky, @chrisevansthedoritobastard, @black-widow-fangirl, @yonaih, @wiredhawkes, @heysliver, @justadweebwithashittydream, @deviantramblings, @deviantsupporter, @divadonadance1

if y’all ever wanna get tagged, send me an ask!! i only tag those who actively interact with my work even if y’all didn’t ask. if u don’t want to be, send me a message as well.

#angel writes #connor x reader #connor #detroit: become human #detroit become human #dbh connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh x reader #dbh connor #detroit become human x reader #detroit become human imagine #God shot #....it's been so long that i forgotten how to tag omg

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calliecat93 · 6 years ago

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RvB17 Episode 1 Review: A Sitch in Time

Anyone else getting Kim Possible flashbacks from that title? Just me? Meh, that’s expected. Anyways! Intro!

Red vs Blue Season 17... holy Hell, Season 17. How many shows make it this far guys? Not many. Even though I've only been watching for two years now, seeing how far the show has come... it's crazy. Yet it's been such a fun ride and I am not ready for it to end anytime soon. So, after a long wait and one Hell of a cliffhanger to end S16 on, we are finally here my friends. S16 had... many reactions. But I can safely say that I loved every single moment of it. Yes even Gus as a cyclops, I loved it (eventually). So with that, and a change in staff structure with Jason Weight writing solo and Josh Ornelas and Austin Clark directing, can S17 hit the mark for fans? Well, after eight months of waiting, it's time to find out.

Overview

So to briefly recap, all of time has been broken and our boys have been sent back to the beginning of the series. Which is where we begin as we cut to what would be Season 1 Episode 3 when Donut first arrived at the canyon, only they are now using Halo 1 (I assume the PC version) instead of Halo 2 Anniversary. We start going through the beats of the episode with Grif and Simmons pointing out Donut's Red Armor... but Grif stops due to the deja vu hitting him again, and same with Simmons. The Blues are not much better, with Tucker confused at how “Church” knows Caboose's name when Caboose never said it. “Church” walks off... revealing the truth: it is Genkins possessing Church.

Genkins arrives at Chrovos' domain, where he finds the gears broken, Donut knocked out, and both the Time Gun and The Hammer discarded. Genkins promptly tosses away The Hammer before facing Chrovos, who is in a Monitor body as the Cosmic Powers are. So... Chrovos is an AI then? So due to complications (aka Donut), the plan did not quite go as intended. So Chrovos is having Genkins go through time to fix that problem. The problem? We'll go into it soon enough. For now, Genkins points out how it's hard to make out Chrovos' actions when they’re an orb and after going through a few changes, they settle on a female body that looks similar to Kalirama's model, but all black. They are also now voiced by Lee Eddy, who previously played 479er and is the voice of Gwen in Camp Camp. Nice.

Donut wakes up, with Genkins promptly shooting at him. Since the firewall is still up, Donut isn't harmed but Genkins wanted to vent. He proceeds to compliment Donut on fulfilling his role, even calling him a fellow relative, before leaving through a portal to continue with his shenanigans. It is at this point that Donut sees that Chrovos is freed, and they make it clear that Donut will pay for his actions by his friends suffering. Donut points out that there's no reason as they are now free... but when he steps forward, a barrier comes over the Time God. As it turns out, while Donut couldn't fully prevent Chrovos form escaping, he DID still manage to increase the prison enough to keep them contained. That's our boy!

Unfortunately, Chrovos's new plan is already in motion. Along the barrier is a large crack. Donut finds out that the guys saved Wash, but due to it they caused the paradox and now time is cracking apart. Which if you recall, paradoxes are exactly what Chrovos needs to break the prison fully. You see, the Reds and Blues history together was the back-swing to The Hammer's blow, and is now in a type of buffer period where new timelines are being formed, paradoxes following. This is why they have Genkins going through time, to create the paradoxes as he promptly does by stopping Sheila in Season 1 without Church getting killed. Genkins can also possess any type of AI figure in these timelines, hence why he is able to pose as Church.

Already cracks are forming along the singularity that represents the solid timeline. One has Tucker step up as a leader much earlier, only to die as a result. Another has Caboose on Red Team. More cracks are forming, and soon enough will form to break Chrovos free. So why are they telling Donut all of this? Because they know that he'll try to stop it and even encourages him to do so. He can possess his own incarnations in these timelines, but by doing so and by trying to bring his friends to their senses, he'll cause even more paradoxes and therefore make the job all the easier. Even after hearing this, Donut refuses to let the Time God screw with his friends like this. He goes into the portal, Chrovos wishing him luck, and our intro credits play with Donut being flung through time.

My friends, Red vs Blue: Singularity has begun.

Review

Hmm... there's a word that I want to use to describe my feelings. I apologize as it is a short word, but one that properly conveys my current emotional state. So... here it goes:

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!

HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS! I LOVED IT! I LOVED IT SO MUCH!

Okay, okay. So honestly there's not too much to digest. Which is honestly fine. This is the first episode and after last year, they really need to explain things so that we would know what we're in for. It's an exposition episode, but a good one. The episode wastes no time at all. We see the guys current situation, find out what happened at the end of S16, establish what the focus of the season will be, and get the ball rolling at the end. It goes from one beat to the next, but without feeling rushed or boring. It was all very welcome information and had the weight of S16's finale to help carry it. We were already invested, so no need to hold back.

This also gives what's probably our first solid viewing of Chrovos. And let me say... I love them. I mean I hate them, as well as Genkins, for reasons but you can TELL that they are relishing their roles. Chrovos comes across as a serious, but quirky individual. Impatient, but also calm and very much in control. They have the intimidating present, but like with the Cosmic Powers they have these comedic traits that make them more entertaining and fun to watch. Same with Genkins, who continues to be a delight. I may hate the bastard for 'killing Huggins' (STILL IN DENIAL) but man he is just SO MUCH FN. His line about Tucker's heterosexuality was by far the best line in the episode. Nd the fact that he can possess any AI figures in the past, like Church? Yeah... that is both genius and terrifying. Helps that Ricco Fajardo and Lee Eddy are clearly having so much fun in these roles XD

So... timelines... holy Hell. I think we all kind of expected alternate timelines, but IDT that ANY of us predicted this. The Reds and Blues are reliving their past as Genkins changes thing up from the main timeline, or the Singularity as it were. Which leaves us with a buffer period as the chain of paradoxes keeps shattering the already weakened timeline. And all of it makes sense. The Reds and Blues history was used as the backswing and they were the ones who caused the paradox so it makes sense that this would be used to further shatter the prison. It explains why we got the paradox explanation last season as now all of the scenarios (Closed Loop, Multiverse, Stable Timeline) are all in effect. Since Donut was in Chrovos' domain, he wasn't affected and is the only one who has a chance in fixing all of this. It all lines up and promises us a lot of insanity, hilarity, and pain.

Speaking of Donut... oh Lord Donut. This is very much going to be his season. He was so great in this episode too. He's still a dimwit, but he's still fun and understands that shit is going down. It's really nice to see him get frustrated about time travel cause honestly? It DOES suck. But yeah he talks back against Chrovos, is still funny and gullible, and he is more than ready to do whatever he can to save his friends. Yeah, he understands the consequences, but screw it. He cares about his friends and he isn't going to let Chrovos get away with making them suffer to get free. He doesn't hesitate at all when Chrovos brings the option of going through the portal up. Is he going to succeed? Well... he's not going to have an easy time going about it, that's for sure. He's probably gonna go through a LOT of Hell. But hey, I'm rooting for him! Two years ago, when I first got into RvB, I would have NEVER said that I am all for Protagonist Donut. But damn it all, I AM ALL FOR IT!!! Also, Dan Godwin (who absolutely killed it in this episode) got top billing. Bless.

The direction of this episode was really well done. The effects are all super good. I mean just watch the credits sequence. The bluish-red mist, the character's appearing when their VA's name appears, Donut bein sent through the portal, it all looks amazing. The machinima was also really good and honestly, using the old Halo's is a MUCH better option than using Halo 2 Anniversary. It connects us more to those events since we recognize the settings and models much better in the past engines. Might also explain why we're only getting 12 episodes because going back and forth between engines had to have been pure murder on the machinimators. The camera work was also excellent, like Donut's first-person perspective when he wakes up. No real animation outside the credits, but honestly the effects were more than enough to keep things interesting. Very solid job by the RvB team.

Alright, we have our beginning... so what's gonna happen now? Honestly, it's hard to tell. We're probably going to spend the first half going through some notable RvB moments, exploring the new timelines, and Donut hopefully managing to get a few of the guys back to their senses. Honestly? There are a LOT of possibilities for how this season can go down. Moments to revisit, old characters to see again, SO MANY POSSIBILITIES. IDK where Jason is going to lead us, but I can safely say that I'm invested.

Final Thoughts

This was a solid start to the season! It wastes no time in getting us into the swing of things but still takes time to inform us of all we need to know and let the characters be characters. As I said, I already love Chrovos far more than I did last season. It perfectly sets up our main plot, and all that's left to do now is see where it leads us. 11 episodes to go people. Let's make them count.

#rvb #rvb17 #rvb reviews #callie reviews #rvb spoilers

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tinymixtapes · 6 years ago

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Interview: Oliver Coates

Composer, producer, and cellist Oliver Coates recently released Shelley’s on Zenn-La, his third solo full-length and first on RVNG Intl. The album relies on a peculiar splicing of IDM, distilled pop, and faint folk that manifests a multicolored, amaranthine microcosm. Located on the fictional planet Zenn-La, it is home to an apocryphal amalgam of Shelley’s Laserdome, the fabled Stoke-on-Trent nightclub from the late 80s/early 90s, and a futuristic dance floor whose inhabitants are possessed by a perpetual, time-displaced dance to the sounds of early rave, electronica, and minimalism. Shelley’s on Zenn-La is both a synthesis of previous works and a departure in Coates’s diverse and fruitful career, his projects and collaborations almost too many to mention. In the realm of classical music, he is the primary cellist for the London Contemporary Orchestra and has worked with the likes of Laurie Spiegel and John Luther Adams. Outside of it, he has collaborated with Mica Levi on 2016 album Remain Calm and with Laurie Tompkins on 2018’s Ample Profanity; contributed to Radiohead, Laurel Halo, and Mark Fell records; and performed with Steve Reich, Terry Riley, Dean Blunt, Actress, and Genesis P-Orridge. He has also participated in the making of several film scores, including those for the masterful Under the Skin with Mica Levi and The Master and Phantom Thread with Jonny Greenwood. But on Shelley’s on Zenn-La, Coates is alone, acting as both a playful tinkerer and a studious composer. Coates builds the record’s song structures by challenging himself, looking for noises that sound gorgeous and meticulously incorporating curious segments into wider narratives. Tinkling FM synthesis and drum sequences composed in Renoise are contrasted and augmented by processed and transformed cello lines. Here, his trademark cello becomes another source of samples, equipotent with all other effects he employs. In a way, Coates creates his own all-encompassing instrumentarium of sounds, as idiosyncratic as the fictional world he explores and one that is only occasionally visited by Kathryn Williams’s enveloping flute, Chrysanthemum Bear’s ethereal vocal lines, and Malibu’s spoken word. We caught up with Coates to talk about Shelley’s on Zenn-La, among other things. --- Shelley’s on Zenn-La emanates a warm and welcoming feeling, a certain sense of optimism. Thanks! At the mastering stage, I asked for it not to be squeezed like commercial electronic music, so that we might preserve the internal dynamic balances as much as possible. I think coldness perceived in electronic music may partly be connected to listening fatigue, where pounding transients are all peaking at the same level and eliminate dynamic relationships between instrument groupings. I’m anti music feeling as if everything is brick wall limited. I don’t need the kick drum to shake anything. It connects back to the music: I have this background playing Bach cello suites where some of the best bass notes are imagined or implied rather than heard because there’s not so much scope for polyphony on a monophonic instrument. I sometimes like skeletal textures, where the listener is coaxed into imagining parts of the music image. More room for fantasy that way. The album and its title evoke a sort of British retrofuturism. It sounds bittersweet and melancholy, but ultimately optimistic. Like something that Sun Ra would have made had he been clubbing and raving in the late 80s and early 90s. Were you guided by a concept while working on the record? There was no concept, just having fun making tracks for RVNG. Towards the end, that title came to me. The tracks were describing the environment of this impossible space. I edited the album down into something tighter against that image, depicting a series of buildings, public pleasure activities like in Brave New World, and the topography of the outlying countryside and nature. The music also seems to be a personal reflection, a soundtrack devoted to certain places, London chiefly. Is this something you’ve consciously tried to achieve — using the music to capture and channel subjective impressions of certain areas, neighborhoods, and cities? Is it at all nostalgic? Perhaps. London is not that important to me culturally. It’s fun to be with your friends or singing in a choir or something. I see failure and friction and busy-ness for its own sake. The terror of being still. I wasn’t consciously describing anything when I was coming up with the music, more listening and seeing what happens. Shelley's on Zenn-La by Oliver Coates I sometimes like skeletal textures, where the listener is coaxed into imagining parts of the music image. More room for fantasy that way. Has your work with Lawrence Lek, which must have been impressionistic on some level, provided you with any guidance while constructing Shelley’s? I think Lawrence and I have always shared a similar fondness for the adoption of real spaces and transforming them into fantasy. In that context, does any of the day-to-day sociopolitical stuff seep into your work? Making a music LP, I hope to constitute an experience more than a takeaway message. My nature seems averse to tribal or ideological thinking. I’m more interested in friendship and family and effecting change through relationships. More interested in chatting about Beckett than Br_x_t. Shelley’s often reminds me of a contemporary (re)interpretation of the IDM/techno/dance scenes of the late 80s/early 90s. Were you chasing that particular sound? Nah, none of that first part rings true. I wasn’t reinterpreting or interpreting anything. I was guided by pleasure, which sounds a bit dodgy, but also giving myself mini-technical challenges such as two simultaneous bass lines (“A Church”), two imaginary drummers in different acoustics going crazy to one click track (“Cello Renoise”), wonky scales, and fake Gaelic folk music (“Charlev”). The album has a very distinct flow that feels quite deliberate. Yet, given some of your previous work, I can’t help but wonder whether any of its parts were improvised? Improvising is there, for sure. I have just enjoyed this twix bar a great deal. On this release, I edited it quite heavily. The residual ghosts of improvisation are sometimes what fascinate you; they somehow have higher authority over your conscious self. I might edit over and over, then go back 10 stages to find a set of performance actions you made when you weren’t remotely aware of what you were doing or what the shape was going to be — these always seem to be more compelling. Many of the tracks were much longer, and I was heading for double-album territory. I had a good chat with Matt [from RVNG] and decided to cut it into a manageable form. Eight hours of ambient cello patterns bouncing around in Pure Data can come later. Do you prefer working within improvised contexts like Remain Calm with Mica Levi or fully composed and premeditated? Changes all the time. I feel comfortable with certain people around, being in a room with certain people gives me a good amount of ideas that seem fresh. Sometimes I like the hard and fast decisions that have gone into composition, because they’ve been made painstakingly. Looking at your solo releases, there appears to be a progression in your approach to the cello. You use its unaltered sound on Towards the Blessed Islands and subvert it to produce unexpected sounds on Upstepping, while on Shelley’s you rely more on sound synthesis and electronic effects with the cello pushed back. That first solo record is an album of performances of music written by other people (David F/Hennessy, Laurence Crane, Larry Goves, Max de Wardener, Iannis X). I think the answer to this question lies in live performances that are centered around live cello performance. I play a New Age melodic sound with ambient synths, Romantic cello lines juxtaposed with aspects of digital music which I trigger and manipulate with my foot controller. I hope I can make more music for records in the future that is actually closer to my live stuff and more about nuanced live cello playing and computer music juxtaposed. More interested in chatting about Beckett than Br_x_t. In that sense, “Prairie” is somewhat of an outlier, with the cello its sole actor. Is there some kind of story behind this specific joyful cut? Years ago, I was approached to make music for an app about the Apollo 11 moon landings. The project got shelved, and I was left with some music I really liked, so I used this one. It was what this record needed. With your focus shifting to electronic music, do you still enjoy the performative aspects of interpreting someone else’s work as a cellist? Yes. Working with Larry Goves, Alexia Sloane, Laurel Halo — there are so many good composers out there. Has your background in classical music influenced your musical journey outside that specific realm? Realms, moving outside, journeys; I like all these connotations of physical play set against music. Classical Music functions a bit more like an industry. I don’t think it’s a type of music, for sure. There’s 800 years of notated music. I turn up on time because of my background in orchestral structures. As both a performer within LCO and someone who creates music using computers, how do these two aspects of your art relate? They both feel like second nature. My relationship with LCO has never been formalized; it’s nice and chill. Editing sound on the computer is about taste ultimately, same goes for how you play the cello. Your music appears in a constant state of flux, yet I wonder if there’s some other overarching theme in your work? There is, actually, but I’m holding it back for the time being — you can’t control things so much on the surface — but yes, there’s a backbone to the progression of each release. Tell me a bit about Ample Profanity with Laurie Tompkins. I’m aware that Tompkins has a very intense and unique creative process. As far as I know, this is the first time you’ve sung on a record, and your playing seems to be pushed even further than usual. We’re old friends, and Laurie T is a fine composer. His music is more extreme than mine (hence the shouting and so on at the start and the arrhythmia), but it’s fantastic to play in a live duo with him. He’s a subversive kind of performer, nuts skills he has, and I honestly don’t know where it comes from. By the way, I sang on track 1 of the first album, Towards the Blessed Islands, “The room is the resonator.” You’ve collaborated with a multitude of musicians from different scenes in different contexts. Do these collaborations affect your solo music? For example, certain elements of Shelley’s on Zenn-La’s sound seem to be hiding in pupal stage on cuts from Remain Calm. No overlap between RC and SOZ-L. Cello playing is there in both, but RC was a quick, fun, lo-fi thing. I can’t accurately say what has been transformative for me — meeting Genesis P-Orridge and improvising/underscoring her reading out Burroughs at Sophia Brous’s Dream Machine event in NYC taught me a lot, just on the unconscious level. Having moved to a fairly remote part of Scotland, are we going to hear more folk influences in your work? Perhaps for the first part. Scottish Gaelic music is very beautiful to me. http://j.mp/2CCRVNn

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yasbxxgie · 6 years ago

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On Tuesday, Spike Lee shook up the Cannes Film Festival all over again. The last time he rocked it this hard was in 1989 when he was here with “Do the Right Thing.” This time, the film is “BlacKkKlansman,” which tells the weirder-than-life true tale of Ron Stallworth, a former intelligence officer with the Colorado Springs Police Department who in 1979 infiltrated the Ku Klux Klan. The twist? Mr. Stallworth is African-American, which is only the start of a story that finds him making a fool of the white supremacist David Duke. The less-surprising twist is that it’s very much about the American present — a direct, furious protest against the Trump era.

Ron is played by John David Washington, who can sound uncannily like his father, Denzel, the star of Mr. Lee’s “Malcolm X.” Ron infiltrates the Klan with the help of a colleague, Flip Zimmerman (Adam Driver), who pals around with Klan members in person in scenes that are by turns surreal, absurd and hair-raising.

I met Mr. Lee the morning after the film’s premiere on the terrace of the Carlton, one of the grand hotels that look out over the Mediterranean. Wearing a black ball cap and denim jacket, he was in a good mood, often breaking into deep, rolling laughter. “I’ve always had fun at Cannes,” he said, soon after sitting down. “This is the world’s greatest film festival — it’s like when people come to Madison Square Garden to see the Knicks — this is the mecca.”

Mr. Lee has now had five movies at Cannes, but he hasn’t been in the official program since 2002 and the anthology feature “Ten Minutes Older.” When “Do the Right Thing” played at Cannes it didn’t win any awards, and the jury led by Wim Wenders bestowed the festival’s top honors on Steven Soderbergh’s “sex, lies, and videotape,” causing Mr. Lee to famously assert that he had been robbed. A prize might have been nice, but he didn’t need the festival’s blessing; “Do the Right Thing” became a cultural touchstone, an essential work in Mr. Lee’s enduring, electric career.

In 2017 he was in the middle of production on the first season of the Netflix series “She’s Gotta Have It” (based on his film), when he received a call from Jordan Peele, the director of “Get Out,” about the project that became “BlacKkKlansman.”

“Spike, I’ve got this script,” Mr. Lee recalled Mr. Peele saying. “I want you to take a look at it.’” Mr. Lee said that there was a lot that already worked in it (Mr. Peele is among the producers of the film) but that he along with one of his co-writers, Kevin Willmott, had to put their stamp on it. “Jordan Peele and his guys came to me because they wanted a Spike Lee Joint.”

To do so, Mr. Lee continued, he and Mr. Willmott had to link Mr. Stallworth’s story with the present. “It cannot be just a history lesson,” Mr. Lee said. “It has to be contemporary. So that was the hip thing that we did. Otherwise it’s a period piece. We had to connect David Duke to Agent Orange today.”

This is the name Mr. Lee uses to refer to President Trump, whom he did not mention by name during our conversation. Mr. Lee happily credits the musician Busta Rhymes for the nickname Agent Orange, a toxic defoliant used by the American military during the Vietnam War: “Shoutout to Busta,” he said, laughing.

Mr. Lee worked with colleagues who have helped him turn his vision into cinema before, including Terence Blanchard, his longtime composer. For this film, though, he brought on a new cinematographer, Chayse Irvin, who shot Beyoncé’s “Lemonade.”

“BlacKkKlansman” has a great, strange story that keeps you off balance — you seek footing as it shifts between comedy and horror — but it also has moments of serene loveliness. When a guest of the student union, Kwame Ture (a.k.a. Stokely Carmichael), begins speaking about black beauty, Mr. Lee folds in floating close-ups of men and women whose halo-like Afros create a sense of near-holiness.

“I wanted to show black is beautiful,” Mr. Lee said. “Not to denigrate anyone else, but white America has been told through 100 years-plus of cinema that white people are the epitome of beauty, the standard.”

Cinema is a critical, intellectual touchstone in “BlacKkKlansman.” Pointedly, the film opens with a legendary scene from “Gone With the Wind” (1939) in which a stunned Scarlett O’Hara walks past a multitude of wounded and dying soldiers as the camera moves up and up, finally stopping on a tattered, still-flying Confederate flag. Mr. Lee also incorporates images from D. W. Griffith’s “The Birth of a Nation” (1915), which he saw when he was a student at New York University.

“What got me mad,” Mr. Lee said, “is that they only talked about Griffith and not the effect that film had. ‘The Birth of a Nation,’ undeniably, led to the rebirth of the Klan. So you can see, directly or indirectly, people were killed because of that film. It never came up.”

While he was a student, Mr. Lee made a short, “The Answer,” about an African-American screenwriter who’s hired for a remake of “The Birth of a Nation.” Mr. Lee said that his teachers weren’t pleased with his film and that he was almost expelled. He is now a tenured professor at N.Y.U., and while he doesn’t show “Birth” to his students, he thinks it should be seen with the right historical context.

Mr. Lee had finished shooting “BlacKkKlansman” when a white nationalist rally in Charlottesville, Va., last August grew violent. He turns sober as he speaks about that weekend and President Trump’s divisive response. “That’s his definitive moment,” Mr. Lee said. “That’s going on his tombstone. He had the opportunity to show the moral leadership that we need,” adding, “He would not repudiate the Nazis, the Klan and the alt-right. He did not do that. That’s what the president is supposed to do.” Mr. Lee then added, “All these Jewish people supporting him, don’t they understand that he’s aligned with the people who tried to wipe them off the face of the earth?”

The intensity with which Mr. Lee spoke about Mr. Trump and Charlottesville finds a corollary in a section of “BlacKkKlansman” that incorporates some of the rally’s most agonizing images. These include the death of Heather D. Heyer, who had been part of an anti-racism counterprotest.

“I called up Heather’s mother, Susan Bro,” Mr. Lee said. “I was not going to put that in unless she gave me her blessing.” He gave her his sympathies and then said, “‘Mrs. Bro, I want to end ‘BlacKkKlansman’ with the murder of your daughter,’” Mr. Lee said after a silence, she told him: “Spike, put it in.” The film, he continued, opens in August, a year after Charlottesville. “That’s what this film is about,” he said. “It’s about today. Are we going to go forward or backward?”

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acsversace-news · 7 years ago

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If you thought the saintlike halo surrounding the title character in The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story‘s premiere was striking, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Not to get all Manchurian Candidate about it, because there’s no reason to believe writer Tom Rob Smith’s take on the designer is anything but sincere. But based on “Manhunt,” the riveting, rhapsodic, terrifying second episode, it’s safe to say Gianni Versace is the kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful human being I’ve ever known in my life, which makes the hour’s ever-deeper plunge into the abyssal psyche of his murderer — the “white guy who killed four white guys,” as a witness who nearly helps nab him (inaccurately) describes him — all the more frightening to endure.

When the episode opens, Gianni has been stricken with what appears to be but is never referred to explicitly as HIV/AIDS — the real-life Versace family’s principal objection to the series and to reporter Maureen Orth’s Vulgar Favors, the book on which it’s based. He does not push away his partner Antonio for initiating him into the rollicking open relationship that likely exposed him to the virus, even as his sister Donatella blames the younger man for Gianni’s illness. (Their exchange includes some dynamite dialogue sure to be quoted far and wide: “I am not a villain, and he is not a saint.” “My brother has a weakness for beauty. He forgives it anything. But I am not my brother.”) In fact, Gianni quite literally leans on his boyfriend of many years for support when he’s too weak to walk by himself. The sickness’s main effect on him is to dull his creative impulse, because, simply put, he cannot create when he’s sad.

And when he rebounds thanks to the era’s miracle drugs, he’s like a man reborn. He bucks the era’s trends towards scary-skinny models (“They look ill,” he says, perhaps recalling the emaciation of HIV sufferers who weren’t so lucky) and just plain scary designs, arguing that strength, health, and joy are precisely what his clothes are meant to highlight and celebrate in the women who wear it. He challenges his skeptical sister Donatella to a design-off, pitting his bright and buoyant designs against her severe and on-trend approach, and wins over a fashion-show crowd dulled into quiescence by Donatella…but because they love and respect each other so much, Donatella seems legitimately happy his philosophy came out on top, and he certainly does nothing to rub his victory in her face. You can dig on the terrific music cue for the runway scene, the Lightning Seeds’ trip-hoppy Austin Powers soundtrack cover of the Turtles’ “You Showed Me”, or get a kick out of the cattiness involved in making real models’ names recognizable in the scene where Gianni calls out the vogue for emaciation (Shalom! Irina! Karen!), but mostly the effect is just to win us over the same way the designs won over the folks in the front row at the show.

The better angels of Versace’s nature don’t stop flying at the runway’s edge, either. When Antonio brings a guy back to their place for a threeway, Gianni’s too busy working to join in the fun, but he gives his partner his blessing to continue without him, and smiles with quiet delight at the sounds of pleasure coming from the man he loves in the background as he draws. When Antonio proposes, Versace gently rebuffs him, knowing that the younger man would chafe under the commitment but loving him no less for that. For God’s sake, Gianni is even nice to the Donatella impersonator who tries, not for the first time apparently, to crash his compound while Andrew stakes it out! I don’t know if there’s a word in Italian that covers all the connotations of mensch, but Versace is that to a tee.

Compare the love on Gianni’s side of this episode’s ledger to the fear, hate, and horror on Andrew’s. Just two episodes into the series, Darren Criss is cementing the status of his portrayal of Cunanan as one of the all-time great on-screen serial killers, not just calling to mind Anthony Perkins as Norman Bates, Tom Noonan as Francis Dolarhyde, Ted Levine as Jame Gumb, or Christian Bale as Patrick Bateman, but actually earning the comparisons.

He’s certainly helped in this respect by Smith’s script and the direction of People v. O.J. cinematographer Nelson Cragg. The reference set they assemble for Andrew to inhabit includes a genderbent shower scene by the beach with Andrew’s ersatz friend and escort manager Ronnie (a warm, wounded, marvelously understated Max Greenfield), combining Psycho‘s defining visual with the pre-shower/murder rapport between Norman and Marion Crane, not to mention its star Perkins’s closeted sexuality. (A motel also figures prominently, again with roles reversed: Andrew’s the guest on the run from the law, not the person at the front desk, and he must ingratiate himself to her instead of the other way around.)

Elsewhere, a scene of excruciating sadism, in which an underwear-clad Andrew dances to the Big ‘80s strains of Phil Collins and Philip Bailey’s pounding “Easy Lover” while an escort client slowly suffocates beneath the duct-tape mask Cuanan wrapped around his head (“You’re helpless…accept it…accept it…ACCEPT IT…”) drags the male-on-male-gaze subtext of Bret Easton Ellis and Mary Harron’s respective American Psychos squirming into the harsh Florida light. Simultaneously hitting Pulp Fiction‘s gimp sequence, Boogie Nights‘s “Sister Christian”/”Jesse’s Girl”/”99 Luftballoons” coke deal gone bad, and Silence of the Lambs‘ Buffalo Bill/”Goodbye Horses” buttons as well, this is a scene people will remember. (A closing scene in which Cunanan prefaces his usual torrent of bullshit about his life by straight-up saying “I’m a serial killer” to a prospective suitor also tears a page from the AP playbook.)

And in the most chilling allusion of all, Ronnie — a sweet guy who moved to Miami because he’d heard “people like living by the ocean who don’t have much living left,” then got unexpectedly healthy, and now dreams of opening up a small florist shop with the money he and Andrew have amassed from his escort gigs — knocks on the bathroom door and finds Andrew in full Manhunter Great Red Dragon mode on the other side, the top half of his face rendered obscure and inhuman by the duct tape he’d applied to himself. Because the context of each of these scenes is so specific to who Andrew and Ronnie are, none of it feels derivative or plagiaristic, the way the generic King/Carpenter/Spielberg rehash of Stranger Things does, for example. Indeed, it’s no different from the way it alludes to Christ telling Peter he’d deny him three times when Andrew tells Ronnie, who’s desperate for connection even as Cunanan flees, “When someone asks you if we were friends, you’ll say no.” As I’ve argued before, the horror genre exists in conversation with itself, and Versace is simply using the language established by its forebears to tell a story all its own.

Yet I think the episode’s two most moving and crushing moments don’t fit neatly in either category. The first involves Versace’s final repose: cremated, his ashes are placed in a bag monogrammed with a V, like everything else in the Versace empire. The gold box in which the bag of ashes is placed for transport back to Italy gets its own seat on the plane. Even in death, beauty and luxury are everything.

The second involves Andrew, making his getaway following the murder. After replacing his stolen car’s plates in a Wal-Mart parking lot — grinning like the cat who got the cream at the girl who spots him doing it, pleased beyond reckoning that he’s getting away with it — he drives down the highway with the windows down, blasting Laura Branigan’s “Gloria” and singing along at the top of his lungs while flubbing every other lyric. Contrasted with his petty glee at committing a crime in front of a little kid, this an utterly brutal portrait of forced happiness and feigned freedom. He’s going through the motions of every Brat Pack flick and Bonnie & Clyde knockoff he’s ever seen, but this brat has no pack, this Clyde has no Bonnie. He’s alone with his horror, and he can’t drown that out forever. How do the lyrics go? “I think you’re headed for a breakdown, so be careful not to show it.”

#acs versace #decider #recap #review #2.02 #article #january 2018

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uncheckedtomfoolery · 7 years ago

Note

Any thoughts on Shou? (Please no lost Pagoda jokes)

I would like to begin this post with an apology to @rabbiteclair, who has probably been waiting for a prompt like this for several years. Anything about Shou necessarily has some overlap with Nazrin and Bishamonten. This post about Nazrin here touches on their relationship a fair amount, and also on Bishamonten, so it may be useful (having said that, I might repeat myself a bit).

Rest is below the cut, per usual.

There are a lot of stories about how an ordinary tiger became a guardian youkai, and avatar of Bishamonten. No wonder, really; it’s not the sort of thing that happens every day. Most of them conflict, so it’s really best to go to the source, right?

Except that Shou would probably just shrug, look a bit sheepish and/or awkward, and steer the topic elsewhere. It’s been a very long time, and before all this, she was an animal. All of that combines into not… actually knowing exactly what happened. She might ask Bishamonten if she thought it was actually important. She’s mildly curious but a kind of ideological “I am who I am now, looking back would be Wrong” hangup has kicked away what little temptation there is.

What she does know, though, is that she knew Nazrin from before all this, and they stayed together. I read it as Shou getting caught up in all this, and Nazrin deciding she’s not going alone, but that’s mostly because I consider Shou to be significantly more into this whole Bishamonten business than Nazrin is.

Since we’re talking about origins anyway, I might as well note that I believe them to both be from India for fairly obvious reasons. The exact road trip that brought them to Japan and whether it’s pre- or post-Byakuren is one of the flexible blank patches in their history. I’ve made some posts about the idiosyncrasies that come out of this, half-jokingly. Some examples follow, if you like: (1, 2, oh dear I thought I had more of these).

Shou is basically the leader of the Byakuren fanclub. Her adoration and admiration for She Of The Crazy Hair knows no bounds (though I would say this is not necessarily, and is indeed wildly unlikely to be romantic or anything; this can take other forms, after all). When Byakuren got captured, she took it very hard, It’s a personal failing (or so she’s chosen to believe, at least) that she carries to this day, long after everyone else has stopped holding it against her - they never did anyway - and it affects a lot of things. She led the UFO rescue party, for one. She’s probably fairly overprotective and trying too hard to compensate for something that’s not even her fault, to this day.

More on that in a bit, though. I talked about Nazrin before, and briefly about Byakuren now. Let’s touch on the other major figure in her life: Bishamonten.

It’s not hard to see how Bishamonten is a big deal to Shou. Uplifted her from a regular animal or youkai to an avatar, for one. Two, he’s a generally virtuous and heroic sort, it would appear. Three, she’s an avatar, she’s kind of contractually obligated to approve of him even without the other stuff. Suffice to say it’s no real surprise she has a glowing opinion of him.

Let’s look at him a bit, though. If any Buddhists in the audience feel I am in need of a correction or possibly a swift kick in the shins, please let me know; I’ve done research but that’s never really the same.

With that preamble out of the way: Bishamonten always struck me as someone who doesn’t… quite fit in with the general Buddhist picture. He’s big and loud and fiery-tempered, he’s a god of war and (often material) fortune, he’s known for a great deal of smiting, he’s usually depicted with a world-class scowl (no, seriously) and a big fiery halo, et cetra. On countless levels, he does not come off as a lotus kind of guy. Not bad - he’s a god of justice and protecting the weak as well, after all - but just kind of wandered into the wrong group.

You can characterise him as just different, or necessary, or failing to follow Buddha’s doctrine, but in any of the above cases, I think anyone who idolises both Bishamonten and Byakuren might experience some clashes in how to act. My impression of him is someone who’s probably a great friend, stand-up guy, always there for people, et cetra, but you really wish he picked up an indoor voice and stopped getting into bar fights every day.

Shou’s picked up a bit of all of the above. Again, avatar, can’t be helped. More on that later, though.

Your impression of Shou is largely a matter of whose eyes you see her through. To the average person, she is probably utterly awe-inspiring, a picture of charisma, effortless grace and an imposing, almost regal air all at once. If you want someone who impresses people into signing on just from seeing her, congratulations! You found her.

She’s aware of that, though, and she tries her best to take the edge off it by being friendly and amiable wherever possible. The effect is rather like a golden angel coming from the sky to a booming choir, only to ask how you’re doing and if you need any help carrying those radishes. And yet, she makes it work: Again, charisma and people skills are kind of her thing. She’s also built up a reputation as someone you can always go to if you need anything, whether it’s a thief caught, or a blessing of good fortune to last the winter, or just advice (though she’ll always try to direct you to Byakuren or Nazrin for that last one, unless you insist). Shou is happy to help, no strings attached, and everyone knows it. It’s the Meiling factor: A combination of a guard and a friendly face. Even people who dislike the entire Myouren temple will probably vouch for Shou. Byakuren is definitely up to something, but Shou? Not a chance, pillar of the community, don’t know what she’s even doing in a place like this.

To other youkai, she’s a touch more open, and uses a different tack. She’s Byakuren-lite: Just as nice and caring, but a little more in touch with the thoughts and concerns of youkai, and somewhat less uptight, easier to talk to, that kind of thing. Whether Byakuren is particularly unapproachable or whatever is beside the point: It’s how people see Shou by comparison.

In private and around non-Byakuren friends, Shou is loud, cheerful and boisterous, quite a contrast to her usual self: The sort of person that some might call ‘a handful’ if anyone actually minded. They don’t. Everyone within this small circle has stories to tell about Shou, all of them good. They’re usually told to people who were actually there, though. Shou’s got an image to keep up and everyone knows it.

Shou herself has no particularly glowing opinion of herself. Have you ever heard that “nobody’s perfect”? Well, she hasn’t. Or at least, she heard, and then quickly dismissed this as an excuse (though only when applied to her; she’s fairly laid back about others). She does not give herself a break, and never has.

Part of this is kind of a… lack of perspective. She always has to do better, to measure up to Byakuren and Bishamonten. She, however, refuses to see either as anything less than utterly perfect, despite “we’re decent people, but boy have we taken some wrong turns in life” basically being the Myouren temple slogan, and Bishamonten being- well, see above. Not only are these contradictory, but a hopelessly idealised vision of another person is, in fact, not actually feasible as a goal.

Essentially, Shou is already good enough to leave most people somewhat awestruck. She’s entirely unaware of this, and is instead bitterly disappointed that she’s not somehow perfect, or reaching a set of contradictory, unattainable standards of people who are basically imaginary.

I imagine Nazrin tries to talk her out of it now and then, with middling and temporary success. It doesn’t help that, yeah, Shou does miss the mark occasionally (see: being a bit of a heavy drinker etc.) In practice this isn’t something you’d find out about, because Shou can still project confidence very well. She’s good at this stuff, remember.

A couple odds and ends to close this out. One thing I’ve always liked from… some book or other (I can never remember the titles anyway) is that Shou is pretty much complete rubbish with a spear. It’s entirely ceremonial. I’ve seen people read this as “she’s basically helpless without the pagoda”, though, and I don’t think that’s quite true. A tiger is scary. A youkai is scary. A tiger youkai demigoddess is probably a whole lot scarier when she puts the spear down.

As for blessings of fortune, I’ve always seen it as coming in two varieties, broadly. There’s good luck of the “huh, everything seems to be working out for me lately” kind. Then there’s the unsubtle kind where a sack of jewels just shows up in your living room one day. She can do both, and… yeah, sure, ideally you should cut off material attachment, but in practice people need things just to get by, and she considers helping with this to be an important part of her work at the temple.

That’s about it for my big rambly mess re: Shou, so I’m just gonna add a really silly idea I’ve had in my head for a while.

Shou once earned a single wish from Bishamonten in recognition of her services. She requested an arm-wrestling match with him, lost badly, and has been delighted about the whole thing ever since. Still kind of sore, though.

#Asks #Touhou #Anonymous asks #Shou Toramaru #Analysis

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drdanwrites · 7 years ago

Text

We’ve Still Got Time: Stephen Wraysford x Reader Series Chapter 2

Guys... This chapter has been killing me. Day after day I’ve been staring at a blank screen but thanks to a chat with @jackdawsonsgrl, I figured it out and managed to write it! I really hope you guys enjoy it. Feedback is sincerely welcomed! xxx BTW my son finally a happy camper and sleeping through the night!!! Thanks for understanding everyone! xxx

Drip

Drip, Drip

Drip, Drip, Drip

Stephen sat enjoying the silence of the house before anyone would inhabit the kitchen. He was glad that with all the transition, he was still able to find a moment of routine. He looked over at the leaky faucet. He could almost see her standing there in her long summer dress that clung to her in very flattering way. Her blonde hair in a messy bun, some of her hair falling out in her efforts to fix the sink. Stephen held his breath as he prepared for his vision to face him. To give him that existential feeling as he looked upon her face and gave him a source of comfort. The sun shown around her acting like a heavenly halo. Her hair moved elegantly along her back, the side of her face was began to eclipse.

The kitchen’s side door opened and Françoise trailed in. Her thin curly hair bounced as she trotted up to the table. Stephen looked at her for a moment. A moment he wish he could have taken back as when he flashed a glance back at the sink, his vision was gone. His heart dropped. Everyday he felt her absence anew. Each morning he awoke without her in his life was like losing her all over again. Françoise deserved to know what an amazing woman her mother was from he, the one who knew her he best. But he couldn’t find the words to tell her. How could he convey his love for her in mere mortal words?

“Françoise, my princess, how did you sleep?” Françoise looked up at Stephen as if taken by surprise.

“Yes, well papa.” He did his best to smile. Trying not to show his pain to his daughter.

“Your English is coming along splendidly.” Françoise filled a large glass with the fresh milk on the table and took a sip.

“Mrs. Y/L/N has been practicing with moi.”

“Well...good then.... least she’s good for something.” Stephen retorted trying not to take his annoyance at the mention of your name out on her.

“Ms. Y/L/N is fun. After school today she is going to help me press leaves.” He smiled at her excitement and got up to pat her on the head, unable to find the ability to show anymore emotion towards her than that. He had never known the love of a family and wasn’t sure how to do it for his own daughter. She looked up at him, wanting to ask, but afraid of his answer. “Maybe, papa could please help as well?” Her childish eyes filled with such an overpowering plead that Stephen’s heart melted.

“Of course, my lovely girl.” His hand on her head, traveled down to her chin and he pressed his thumb lightly.

The kitchen door opened again, interrupting the moment and you entered. His demeanor changed and he dropped his hand and moved farther out of your way than was required. Your presence was an insult. He was more than capable of handling his own life, though deep, deep in his subconscious he knew your existence in the house was a blessing. He would never admit this out loud and stared at you through his peripherals.

“Good Morning!” You sang perkily to the room. Françoise smiled and looked to her father. Stephen noticed this and tried to smile, his face forgetting what it was like. It ended up a complacent smirk. You begin to heat up the stove by putting logs into the furnace and go to the fridge to grab the eggs and toasts.

Drip

Drip, Drip

Drip, Drip, Drip

The noise captured your attention and you turned to inspect the sink. Moving to the sink you looked around for the source of the problem, you began to play with the taps and desperately trying to cease the annoying repetitive noise. From behind you, a screech of a chair startled you.

“Don’t touch that.” You turned again to the table.

“Sorry?” You asked, not sure if you heard him correctly.

“I have asked you to stop what you are doing, ” He said a little more forcefully. “Did I stutter?” He mumbled as he sat back down and went back to reading his newspaper, hiding his rage behind it.

You couldn’t fathom what he had just said to you. Had he just asked you not to fix the dripping sink?

“Pardon, Lieutenant Wraysford… but… you’d like me to leave the sink to continue leaking?” You looked back at the sink. Each drop that fell was like a clash of an annoying cymbal.

“That’s what I said.” The voice rose above the newspaper like a large speech bubble that threatened to explode the gentleness of the kitchen atmosphere.

You shrug and make your way back to making breakfast. You look over to Françoise, seeing if she had noticed the passive aggressive exchange. The young girl was sitting with a sketch pad, doodling with three different colour small pencils. Completely oblivious to what was happening around her. You then turn your eyes subtly to Stephen. Behind the paper you could see an angry puff of smoke, He must have lit up without you noticing. This was something you had tried to squash as soon as you had moved in, knowing it couldn’t be good for Françoise to be around. You knew Stephen needed his vices, but this would have to be one reserved for outdoors. You coughed aloud, hoping Stephen would get the hint. This was met with the sounds of a long inhale and an even longer exhale, and then a giant puff of smoke that surrounded Stephen like a thunderous rain cloud.

You brought the two plates of breakfast over, leaving yours for the moment. One was placed before Françoise and she instantly took up her fork and began to eat.

“Once you’re finished we will get ready to leave for school.” You said as you used one hand to push Stephen’s paper down to the table roughly. After placing his breakfast down, you removed the burning cigarette from his mouth.

“Outside, Stephen.” You repeated flatly, in order not to cause a scene in front of Françoise. Without flinching Stephen grabbed your wrist as gently as his annoyed demeanor would allow. He took the still burning cigarette and placed it back into his mouth.

“Excuse me. Won’t you. I’m suddenly not hungry.” He said and roughly rose from his place at the breakfast table and let himself outside. Anger rose inside you. For weeks now you had been putting up with his behavior, believing that if you were more accommodating and understanding to his condition, he would in turn be more welcoming. However, this had not been the case and instead your attempts were met with immature remarks and attitude. Recently, you had taken to calling the shots in order to assert your demand for at least an ounce of respect. This was obviously for not.

Françoise seemed to have noticed something going on between Stephen and you and looked at you worriedly. You looked down at her and grinned.

“I’m sure you’re papa, just needed a breath of fresh air. How fun, a girl’s breakfast together!” You smiled and grabbed your plate, sitting in the middle chair between Françoise and where Stephen sat. Françoise looked still worried as she moved around the bit of eggs and toast left on her plate.

“Papa says that’s where Mama used to sit.”

You instantly stare at her, realizing how much Stephen’s afflictions have effected Françoise.

“Oh, yes dear, quite right. I suppose I will just sit on the opposite side then.” Picking up your plate, you move across the way and finally make yourself comfortable. “Now, if you are done, please go and get dressed so I can walk you to the school yard.” Françoise smiles and excuses herself from the table. As the kitchen door swings close, you bury your head in your hands and sigh a large sigh of frustration. What had you got yourself into?

Drip

Drip, Drip

Drip, Drip, Drip

You looked up again. In front of you stood the empty chair that was meant for the beloved Isabella. Johanna had explained about Stephen and her sister to you. This man had pined for the same woman for almost 10 years of his life. This was no ordinary love and you could appreciate it and tried to abide by Stephen’s requests concerning her memory in the house.

Drip

Drip, Drip

Drip, Drip, Drip

But what you couldn’t do was listen to this leaking faucet go on for whatever attachment Stephen had to it. As breakfast was already ruined for you anyway, you walked over to the sink and rolled up your sleeves. You reach underneath the sink and produce a wrench. You’d pay whatever the consequences for a moment’s peace.

With Françoise and you away, Stephen had come into the house once more, another lite cigarette hanging from his lips. He plopped himself down into his kitchen chair and looked for his paper. It had been folded nicely and his breakfast had been covered as to keep the heat in. Stephen said a silently thank you as he sat down. Shifting his weight he prepared to eat.

Silence.

He looked up. His fork fell to table top and he turned his head slowly towards the sink, but Isabella was nowhere to be seen and the leaking faucet had ceased to bring her back to him. Knocking the chair over as he got up from the table, he looked around. The guilty wrench laid on the counter serving as hard evidence you had not listened to his direct request. The lit cigarette fell from his lips and fell with a descending hiss as it eliminated itself on the water droplets left behind. His fist collided with the counter and he could instantly feel the hardened pain of a bruise instantly form. How dare you try to remove her from this room, this spot. You had come into his life and tried to change all he had worked so hard to maintain. He was existing, coping with life from day to day as best he could. Now you had threatened to change everything he was comfortable with. Without her overwhelming presence, her vision to vanquish his nightmares, how could he go on? She needed to come back, he needed her now. Without thinking, Stephen grabbed his hat and coat and walked out the door.

The large rocks and stones in patches along the dirt road where making it even harder for Stephen to walk straight. It had been most likely a bad idea for him to stay out all day at the nearest pub. His feet tripped him up every couple steps. The alcohol had done its job and his head was swimming with images of her. A faint smile spread across his face.

“Isabella.” He breathed as he stumbled again. She was dancing in his mind to their favorite song. Her laughing face instantly brought a warm and comforting glow to his heart. He loved her. Everything and anything about her. How was he supposed to find anyone as glorious as her? His Aphrodite, his Helen of Troy. She had given him the precious little girl he had first met a year ago at that same breakfast nook. Her sly smile had glowed in his eyes the same as her mothers and the view was unbearable to him at the time. At first the thought of being that little girl’s father had scared him… but by the end of the war, the thought of not being her father, had brought tears to his eyes. He needed that piece of Isabella to live. His only wish was that he could be her father instead of the stranger who moved in.

A twig snapping quickly brought him to his senses and he quickly prepared all of himself to fight. The twig snapped again and this time it sounded more like the cock of a rifle. Not being armed himself, Stephen started quickly looking around for the armed assassin. He circled for what seemed like ages before he could see the glint of moonlight on a black metal rifle in the woods. Not knowing if this was another vision or not, Stephen took off running down the hill. His ears listened for haunted footsteps behind him and he swore he could hear them getting ever closer.

You were fuming. After returning to the house to see the blunt cigarette in the sink, you knew exactly where Stephen had gone, because it was where he went every time you two had a quarrel. You spent an evening cover for him with Françoise as she was upset to learn her father wouldn’t be joining her to press leaves.

“But he promised.” She whined as she dropped her head. Your heart ached for her.

“I know, darling girl. I know he will make it up to you.” Françoise pouted over to the forest edge and began to collect the best looking leaves. You folded your arms, raging internally as you sighed and joined her, a smile forced upon your face.

As you sat in the darkened living room, the only light in the room came from a flickering candle on the table stand next to you. Without warning you heard the front door open and close. You set down your book, instantly knowing it was Stephen as the maid had gone to bed hours ago. Within seconds you were half way across the room.

“Stephen.” You said sternly, preparing to give him a lecture on the importance of keeping his promises to Françoise. Instead, he run up to you and scooped you forcefully into his arms. He turned you so that your back was against his chest and his hand cupped your mouth to silence you.

“SHHH.” He whispered and looked around frantically. You instantly knew two things, he was having a hallucination and he was stinking drunk. A bad combination for someone with his disorder, but very common for Stephen. You tried to tell him that no one was there, but you knew he wouldn’t see reason. His body felt solid pressed against you and you could feel the muscles supporting you. This made you flush in the face as you could feel the cool sweat that clung to his arms, from his narrow escape. You both stood like that for what felt like ages and you almost forgot what you were mad about. The way he held you in his arms was comforting and felt so familiar to you. Something you had longed to feel again for sometime.

Just as you were beginning to enjoy his embrace, his arms let go and your anguish returned.

“I thought I heard something.” He said, pretending as if nothing had happened and he stumbled backwards.

“Did you forget something you promised to do tonight, Lieutenant?”

He drunkenly chuckled. “What are you even talking about?”

“Stephen, you promised your daughter you would spend time with her tonight! I have been comforting a disappointed child all evening. You can’t keep doing this to her. Eventually she will stop asking.”

In his annoyance and anger, he had forgotten his promise. He rubbed a drunkenly frustrated hand through his greased hair. It fell into his face, unhinged from it’s normal placement. If you hadn’t touched the sink, he would have eaten his breakfast contently and he would have been here to press leaves and share a precious moment with his daughter. He knew only too well how fleeting life was and it fueled his anger at you to know that it was your fault. His eyes narrowed at you and he flung an accusing finger at you, it swayed back and forth with his drunk body.

“If you hadn’t fixed the faucet. I told you NOT to touch it. I wouldn’t have left. I would have been here.”

You crossed your arms in front of you not accepting the blame that he was putting on you.

“Stephen, you can’t blame your actions on me. Yes, I fixed the sink, but you weren’t here for your daughter and you chose to do that. You needed the drink more than her. What kind of father does that?”

Your last sentence hung in the air and caused such tension, worse than it had ever been between Stephen and you.

“How dare you.” He exclaimed. “You know nothing of the horrors I’ve suffered. Everyday, I relive them over and over again. That little girl means the absolute world to me, she’s the only reason I get up in the morning.” Internally, you cheer as you hear him say the one thing you were hoping to hear. Closing the gap between the two of you, you look him sternly in the face. Your faces were close and Stephen could just make out the perfect lines in your face and he mentally drew you in his mind’s eye. If he had been more intoxicated he would have taken you, having been deprived of it for so long, but his anger and pride wouldn’t allow the thought.

“Prove me wrong.” You snapped at him. “Show me you can be the father you say you are and spend time with Françoise. Show her that you feel she is the sun and the moon to you.” Your challenge passed between the both of you. Silence greeted it as Stephen took in what you were saying. With a blink you tried to take Stephen’s arm in order to help him to bed. He quickly pulled it away and you shook your head, not believing how childish he was being.

“As always, good night Stephen.” You walked from the living room, into the kitchen.

Tears started to welled up in his eyes. He knew you were right. These drunken nights, while they brought back his beloved Isabella, they took away from her gift. A comforting noise filled his ears and he blinked the tears down his cheek as he breathed out a laugh.

Drip

Drip, Drip

Drip, Drip, Drip

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imaginethemultiversedoms · 8 years ago

Text

Animal Instincts Pt 1

Fandom: The Flash

Rating: G

Summary: Barry’s younger sister was also hit by particle accelerator explosion while helping take care of the animals at the animal preserve. Now, she has the ability to communicate with any animal.

A/N: This was an idea that has been playing about my brain for a while. I’m not sure how many parts this will have, but I love the idea of a meta having a connection with animals. This is also going to be in third person and the OC is named.

A year and half ago…

"Animal symbolism is prevalent throughout many of the world's cultures. While some are revered as sacred symbols, others are seen as mischievous and cunning, bringing chaos wherever they go. The Coyote is one such animal that is a trickster in Native American lore, though the Raven, Crow, Spider, Blue jay, Rabbit, and Bear among others have appeared in similar trickster lore in some tribes. One animal can mean different things to different groups. While Malaysians said monkeys possessed artistic abilities and introduced writing and sculpture, Chinese legends state they perform brave deeds..."

"Hey, whatcha up too?" Ava startled as her older brother, Barry, leaned over the back of her chair at Jitters, quickly reading the article she was studying. "Animals in mythology? Interesting. What's it for?"

"A small assignment in my animal behavior class. We got to talking about how certain animals behave and how it correlates with how they are perceived in different cultures. While there are differences, some animals are portrayed the same way in different myths and lore. The assignment is to prove whether this is due to how humans have observed animal behavior in the wild, either by hunting or just observing," she answered quickly, barely sparing her brother a glance as she wrote down a couple notes. She did steal a small peek and smirked at the impressed look he was giving her.

"I didn't realize how interesting animal behavior really was," Barry replied. She shrugged and smiled humbly.

"Mr. Baxter likes to think outside the box on occasion."

"Sounds like you have an awesome teacher, Ava."

"He really is. Hey you going to that particle accelerator thing with Iris tonight?"

"Nah, it's not really her thing." Ava couldn't help but hear the disappointment in his voice; her brother had been in love with Iris since childhood. Barry was her favorite person in the entire world aside from Joe and Iris. It was hard watching him pine after someone who was oblivious to what was right in front of them the whole time. "You want to come?"

"I would, but I already promised Diane I would help feed. After Mark fired Jack for drinking on the job and harassing the animals, we've been short-staffed at the preserve. Sorry."

"No problem. I'll take lots of pictures to show you later. Bye, Short-stack." He kissed her cheek as he grabbed his things.

"Love you, Sasquatch," she teased, grinning at her brother. Even though there was a four-year difference, the two of them were always close, practically in each other's back pockets. Ava didn't know what she would do without him. Having lost their mother and their father go away for murdering her at the tender age of six, she didn't want to even consider the thought of not having Barry at her back, protecting her as only big brothers could. He was her hero, best friend, and confidant all rolled into one giant pain-in-the-ass package she couldn't live without. The world just seemed darker without Barry Allen in it.

After a bit more research, Ava packed up your things and headed out to the rescue preserve she volunteered at. Hopefully, in about two years’ time, she would be graduating with both a Computer Science degree and Veterinary Technician, both of which would be used at the preserve she loved so dearly. The owners/managers, Mark and Diane, rescued domestic and exotic animals from situations such as abandonment, neglect, etc. It was also a rehab center for animals that were brought in injured or blown in from storms. It happened quite often during tornado season.

Ava and Diane worked seamlessly in tandem, feeding and cleaning up after the big cats, horses, llamas, birds of prey, macaws, African Grays, foxes, snakes, and the huge tortoise Diane lovingly nicknamed "Crush" from Finding Nemo. It was dark when both finished. Ava were going through the final check when a large explosion echoed in the distance. Looking up, she was shocked and frightened to see a mushroom-shaped gold halo surrounding the middle of Central City...right where STAR Labs was. The particle accelerator was exploding and the effects were catapulting across the city. Soon, it would hit the preserve.

Ahead of her, Diane was already screaming for the employees to head inside for the tornado bunker. "AVA, COME ON!!" She bolted for the entrance. About halfway there, a tall figure bounded out of nowhere and shoved violently aside. Ava hit the side of the tiger enclosure with enough force to knock the wind out of her. Dazed and crumpled on the ground, she caught a hazy glimpse of a man bounding for the bunker. It was Jack Morgan; the guy Mark had fired two days prior. She wasn’t sure why he was back and right now it didn't matter; she needed to get inside. Dazedly getting to her feet, she stumbled a few steps before crashing to the ground. Ahead, she heard Diane screaming, Jack shouting, and then the worst sound you ever hear: the bunker door locking shut. Jack had forced his way inside, possibly hurt Diane, and shutting Ava outside.

Bastard, Ava thought. Looking up, she saw the gold halo of dark matter hurtling towards her, making impact in possibly five seconds. "Barry, Dads, Iris, I love you," she whispered, tears streaming. She barely had time to curl into the fetal position when the dark matter hit.

The world turned gold, then red, then white with pain. There was screaming all around: the tigers, the horses, the foxes, the wolves, hell even Nemo was somehow screaming. She could barely hear herself screaming with all the panic and chaos. Then, the roars and the screams and the whinnies turned into a cacophony of panicked voices, all screaming nonsense and words all at the same time. Her head was exploding with so much pain, she barely registered the panicked animals escaping. Gates busted open, fences came down, hooves stampeded, wolves howled, and a tiger roared a challenge from above.

Before Ava fully lost consciousness, she heard a deep, regal voice shout, "LEAVE THE CUB BE!"

Present Day...

A falcon soared across the dark skyline of Central City. It dodged around the skyscrapers, gracefully catching the air currents that blessed it with its unhindered freedom. Flapping a couple times, it looked around and caught sight of a few pigeons roosting on a nearby ledge. Gleefully, it tucked its wings and dove for the small flock, catching a current back up above the skyline as the smaller birds scattered, squawking angrily. Settling into the last leg of its flight, it peered back down at the ground. It caught sight of the red blur that had been so prominent the past three months. It belonged to a meta-human named by various bloggers and conspiracy theorists, The Flash. The Flash was a speedster, one of the first meta-humans of many to come out of the particle accelerator explosion nearly a year ago. There had been a few others who used their powers to create trouble, but The Flash was only one able to take them out and protect the city. Of course, those same metas were never heard from again, so anyone who was affected and not evil were keeping quiet, afraid of the retribution that might rain down.

Mentally shaking the dark thoughts from its head, the falcon caught a warm updraft and turned south. Within minutes, the falcon caught sight of a clearing, bordering a chain link fence. In the middle of the clearing sat a young woman, legs crossed and hands resting over her knees. The falcon tilted his wings back and dropped with a screech. He landed in front of her as she opened her eyes with a smile, easily pulling her consciousness back into herself.

"Did you enjoy the flight with me?" a soft, melodic, male voice echoed in Ava’s mind.

"I did. Thank you for allowing me to fly with you, Regan." Ava stretched the stiffness from her back and legs; she and Regan, an American Kestrel Falcon, had been flying for close to three hours, the longest she had ever gone from her body. "I think it’s about dinner time now, if you would like to return."

"Will there be any of those nice fat rats again? Seemed a shame to waste them on the snakes." Ava snorted as she allowed the falcon to hop onto her shoulder.

"I'll see what I can do." Silently, the two of them walked back to the preserve. Dropping Regan off at his enclosure with the promise to bring him something special, Ava headed towards the building. A lot had changed in the year and half since the explosion. When the dark matter hit her that night, she was given abilities she only read in myths and fantasy books. While she hardly remembered anything that happened that night, Mark and Diane said they'd found her in the tiger enclosure with the breeding pair protecting her. It had taken some coaxing, but Chakrii, the male, had allowed Diane to get Ava and take her to the hospital. It wasn't until a few days later, what she thought was a hallucination from the concussion was the ability to understand animal language. A few months later, while her older brother was still in a coma from getting struck by lightning that same night, she realized she could also enter an animal's consciousness to use their eyes and ears. Mark and Diane, bless them, had taken the changes in stride and allowed the preserve to be a haven to explore her new "talents". And if it improved the wellbeing and happiness of the animals, well then, that was a perk.

Ava told Iris after Barry had woken up. She handled the news with her usual grace, quickly becoming your confidant and the person to keep you grounded. But when other metas started popping up and causing trouble, she froze at the notion of telling Joe and Barry. What were she supposed to say? "Hey Barry, so I got hit with the same matter and even though you didn't get any abilities, your little sister can talk to her favorite animals now?" Yeah, that would go over well. For now, it was better to let things flow.

She quickly got started on the feeding routine, checking in with the animals as she went. Regan got his special treat - a live rat she had managed to negotiate the boa constrictor in the reptile house out of - and were getting ready to go home when she saw Iris talking to Diane. "Hey Iris!" Ava called out, hugging her foster sister. "How was your first day as a big-time journalist?"

"Nerve-wracking honestly, but it went well," she replied. "You want a ride home?" Ava nodded, grabbing her backpack and clocking out. Both girls chatted about each other's day, Iris telling Ava everything about her new job as she drove. About halfway to the house, the conversation eased into familiar territory.

"So, Diane told me you were at the clearing for three hours today."

"Regan was due to stretch his wings after that hit he took. He allowed me to tag along and we flew over the city for a bit. His wing is fully healed. He should be able to be released soon enough," she answered, fiddling with a hole in your jeans.

"You know at some point you're going to have to tell Dad and Barry," Iris said softly, turning onto the street. Ava sighed, leaning your head against back against the seat. This was an old argument that wasn't even an argument. It was more of a disagreement of how stubborn they were being. She knew she had to come clean about this. There were aspects of her powers she didn't understand, such as how she could talk to the animals in the first place and how far her powers could even go. But she was scared at how her family, more importantly Barry, would react to their baby being a meta. She wanted to remain as Ava in their eyes: stubborn, energetic, and mischievous with a restlessness and independence that ran for miles. She was Barry's baby sister. It would crush her to see the pain and fear in their eyes.

She also knew that deeper part of her, a part connected directly to her powers, was uneasy at the idea of telling. They might shackle her, out of fear and over-protection, and not let her fly anymore. Oh, how she loved to soar.

"How? You know Barry's new friends work at STAR Labs, the whole origin point of all this. And they work with The Flash. How am I supposed to tell them about this?"

"They could help you better understand what is going on!"

"Or they could try to cure me of it. Or lock me away wherever they've got those other metas. Don't lie and say you haven't thought of that."

"Okay, I have, but this is Barry we're talking about. Your big brother. You two have been in each other's back pockets for as long as I can remember! He's not going to let anything like that happen to you!" Ava sighed and stared out the window, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. The car turned into the driveway and stopped, though the engine continued to idle. Iris reached over and took one of her hands, squeezing gently. "Ava, talk to me, what is going on?"

"I don't want to lose this, Iris. This power...this gift. Being able to finally soar above the clouds, above the skyline, it's the best feeling in the world. I can't fully describe it and I know that I don't want to lose it. This is who I am. I can't lose that, Iris." After a moment, Iris reached over and drew Ava into a tight hug. She hugged her back tightly.

"You won't, Ava. I'll make sure of it, even if I have to go and yell at Wells and his team myself." Ava chuckled at that, already feeling better about it.

"You are the best sister I could have ever asked for, you know that, right?" her voice muffled slightly.

"So are you," Iris replied, smiling. Both glimpsed the curtain in the window moving and knew they needed to head inside before questions were asked. "Come on. Dad said he was making lasagna. After dinner, we can go upstairs and watch a movie. Your tips look like they could use a refresher." She tugged at her blue tips cheerfully.

"Cool. Legally Blonde?" Ava asked.

"I was thinking of The Mummy Trilogy."

"Brendan Fraser kicking mummy ass? Even better." Both got out and headed towards the front door. Hooking an arm around hers, Ava leaned her head-on Iris’ shoulder. "Thanks Iris."

"Anytime."

#the flash #the flash imagines #the flash fanfiction #sister!reader #barry allen #barry allen x oc #animal instinct series

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loveiscosmicsin · 8 years ago

Note

Hey if it's alright Ignoct and the letter V. Have a nice day and happy belated New Years.

Send me character(s) and a letter and I’ll write you a minific!

For @deepwolfwolf: IgNoct, letter V. An Abandoned or empty place. Happy Belated New Year’s to you, too! I hope you enjoy my writing and thank you for your patience! Anything you request isn’t a bother to me at all. Also, please, anyone, give me song recommendations for IgNoct. I’ve been making a playlist on YouTube. I really like “Dernière Danse” (Last Dance) by Indila for this couple.http://lyricstranslate.com/en/dernière-danse-last-dance.html

Art that inspired me, please don’t click on them until after you finish reading!: https://mobile.twitter.com/FFikaika_/status/816753648260681729

@ruebird’s http://ruebird.tumblr.com/post/157210311094/stars-are-their-thing

@ravitae’s http://ravitae.tumblr.com/post/157747269898/ignoct-may-i-ask-for-one-last-dance

@letshareapapou then drew this after reading the fic https://twitter.com/Letshareapapou/status/855947679796404224

This is also posted on my Ao3 as Look How The Stars Shine For Us if you prefer reading fics off there.

Your shoulder blades Your eyes ablaze The way you throw your head back When you’re losing faith But finding hope It lights your face That helps me cope Through all of this without a kiss And I get through all of this without a kiss

From the atlas Take me far Leave me reckless Off the map Turn the paper Don’t bring me back- “Atlas” by Shannon Saunders

V. An abandoned or empty place

“Sure ya wanna head out all on your lonesome?” Cidney asked as she pulled the service truck to a stop.

“Yes. It’s nearly time.” Ignis answered before turning to face the head mechanic. “Will you be all right waiting?”

“Now don’t ya worry about lil’ ol’ me.” The plucky blonde’s cheerfulness was nearly palpable and a paper bag crinkled as she stroked it. “If you don’t need me, I’m finally gonna chow down on these purdy sweets an’ listen to some tunes ‘til you get back.”

“I see,” the strategist smiled, pleased that she had been anticipating his renowned memory lane pastries far more than she alluded. He knew now that bribery was unnecessary. “You have my thanks.”

“Ain’t no trouble. It’s nice to be away from the garage for a spell.” The sound of rubbing leather was soft as the woman adjusted her seat. “Sure is gorgeous out here.” Cidney whistled sharply. “Not a single cloud in the sky and the wind won’t be picking up. Perfect weather for stargazing.”

Ignis had his hand on the door handle, but made no move to turn it. “Indeed.” He agreed, distant. He had requested for the mechanic’s assistance, there was no turning back now or he would surely regret it.

Cidney’s hand was on his shoulder, giving it a firm, but playful shove. “Well, best get movin’. Give my regards to His Majesty.”

At the mechanic’s encouragement and behest, Ignis’ feet landed flatly on solid earth and the door shut behind him. The strategist had his doubts but entrusting Cidney, an unlikely confidant, was a wise choice. She understood how important his date was and needed little persuasion to take him there.

Sediment crunched under his shoes and loose rocks evaded him as he walked towards his destination, a cliff overhanging Duscae. It was a brief journey that required moderate exertion on Ignis’ part but worth it when he was blessed with the sight of a young man seated on a blanket. The older man intended on surprising him, but a snap of a twig betrayed him.

“You finally showed,” the raven-haired man said over his shoulder, his eyes seemed to encapsulate Ignis on the spot. “Thought I’ve been stood up.”

Ignis pursed his lips. “And since have I ever done that, Noct?”

“Got me there.” Noctis chuckled softly before noticing something was off. “What’s that look for? Forgot something?”

“I, ah, no,” Ignis patted his pockets, an obvious lie. “It’s nothing.” He couldn’t believe he had forgotten it.

“Okay,” Noctis snorted, darting glances from the strategist’s face and his pants as the brunet sat down. “Have it your way.”

Ignis sighed, holding up a paper bag and thermos he had been carrying. “I believe these would keep your interest more effectively.”

Noctis studied his face for a moment longer before claiming the bag. “Knew I smelled something tasty.” He grinned, tossing the sweet in the air and catching it. “Haven’t had these in a while. They’re really for me?”

Noctis moaned into the first bite, his dark eyebrows raised as he savored the pastry. He dove back into the confection with a vengeance and quickly devoured it. Sugar and Ulwaat jam coated the bow and corners of his lips and he wiped at them with a sleeve.

Ignis sighed as he took Noctis by the wrist and folded back a cuff. “Do mind your manners, Noct. I brought napkins for a reason.” Something metallic glittered in the moonlight. “You’re wearing it…”

“This? Saw you fiddling with it and thought it’s meant for me. You didn’t have to get me anything, Iggy.”

“I had to get you something. It’s a charming accessory that would meet your refined tastes at the very least.” Etro knew Ignis tried in vain countless times in persuading Noctis to wear a watch.

“I think we both know that I’ve worn too many of those to last a life time.” Noctis replied with a snort. “One family ring’s enough. But… I’ll keep this bracelet. Kinda forgot it was on me anyway.”

Ignis was unwilling to not let this go until Noctis admitted he liked it. “And because it suits your fancy?”

Noctis threw his arms behind his head, a light blush dusted his cheeks. “Yeah, that too.” He flipped the lid on the thermos open and took a sip. His eyes lit up before downing a gulp, exhaling sharply. “Whoa, it’s Ebony and it’s exactly how I take it.”

“If you can call it that. If you ask a connoisseur, they would say your taste buds are forever ruined to appreciate a perfectly good cuppa.”

“Well, you’re the one who prepared it, Iggy.” Noctis pointedly jabbed a pastry in the strategist’s direction. “Broke your own rules there.”

A float of sweet cream accompanied by several dollops of sugar was how Noctis took his coffee. Far too sweet for human consumption. He hated the way coffee tasted, but drank it because of the sophistication appeal, proclaiming it was a step up from the Purple Phoenix and trendy energy drinks. Diluting the bold flavor of Ebony coffee went against Ignis’ incorrigible creed. Having his coffee black was the only acceptable way in Ignis’ world. But despite all that, Ignis would vehemently prepare a cup that Noctis would approve of and drink it whenever he thought of him. It would’ve been a waste to dump it down the drain otherwise.

After Ignis nibbled on his first pastry and Noctis wolfed down on second, the younger man rose to his feet and dusted crumbs off his clothes before offering a hand. “Can I have this dance?”

“Without music? This is rather daring of you.”

“We’ll improvise.” The king paused before cursing, “Dammit. Forgot my phone. We’ll just go without it. Are you going to take my hand or not?”

Ignis took the hand and let the younger man guide him away from the blanket.

“I don’t trust myself after last time,” Noctis rested his palms on Ignis’ waiting hands. “You lead.”

When he was the Crown Prince, Noctis was required to excel at all forms of dance and despite having mastered agility in combat, he was utterly helpless in the ballroom. Ignis must’ve made a poor teacher because Noctis never quite improved, but he was relaxed and there were least cases of foot injuries under his guidance. It had been years since they had last danced together.

Ignis secured Noctis’ right hand and placed his other hand on his upper back. “Don’t look at your feet. Focus on counting your steps and you’ll do fine.”

Noctis gave him a sheepish grin, his stance spoke volumes of his uneasiness. “As if I can keep my eyes off you, Ignis.” He put a hand on the strategist’s shoulder.

Their starlit waltz was a simple one though in the beginning, they were like stiff figurines going through steps that they had done numerous times. Ignis was educated in both lead and follow designations and could alternate on cue. He could read immediately on Noctis’ face that he regretted suggesting this activity. Worrying on his next step was throwing him off rhythm, he wasn’t trusting his partner. Ignis decided to switch it up, no longer their postures were restrained, they were in a more loose position.

Noctis’ eyes widened at this. They were deviating from the strict protocol, but Ignis wasn’t done there. Side to side, backwards and forwards, they maintained a synchronized rhythm that suited the both of them. The strategist lifted a hand, signaling the king to turn, circling a halo around his head. Noctis laughed as he turned, returning to Ignis afterwards.

As the two danced, Ignis felt all the years they had together weigh heavily upon his shoulders. The strength of their unspoken bond became more profound in their movement. Their gazes had a million words to illustrate just how they revered each other in the highest regard.

Ignis brought Noctis close after a tighter and swifter turn. He smiled as he leaned in close. “I’ve underestimated you. Your footwork has—”

“Improved?” Noctis asked, hopeful.

“Worsened.” Ignis informed with a smirk. “Though you rightfully earned a gold star for effort.”

“Yeesh.” The king groaned, throwing a betrayed look. “And here I thought that I could impress you for once.”

So that’s why Noctis took the initiative. It must’ve been difficult for him to ask.

“Oh, but you have in so many ways. Be it in a room full of people or simply the two of us, I’d always pick you in a heartbeat.” Ignis swayed his hips and concluded the dance. “You’re my partner of choice.”

“Well, likewise,” Noctis bowed to demonstrate his appreciation. “You make me look good.”

“And just that?” Ignis asked, studying the exhilaration and delight in his king’s features. They both knew that it wasn’t the only reason.

Noctis smirked, but offered no reply as he swept his bangs back. “What I wouldn’t give for another moment with you.”

“I’m curious. What would you give?”

“I…” Noctis began before a red light streaked across the sky. “It’s starting.”

It was a meteor shower, an vast array of light shot out from all directions. For once, they were in perfect clarity because the two men were far away from the city lights and the moon couldn’t drown them out.

“Whoa, that’s gonna be a night to remember.” Noctis said lying on his back, he was in awe of the universe.

Ignis made an amused sound. “You say that every year.”

“Anticipation makes the wait feel longer.” Noctis argued as he marveled at heavens above. “Besides, can’t you agree with me for once?”

But Ignis was directing his attention to the man at his side. “The night sky pales in comparison to your radiance, my king.”

Sitting up, Noctis’ gaze met Ignis’, a slight quirk in his eyebrow. “Are we still looking at the same ‘night sky’ here, Specs?” He articulated with a smirk and a nudged the brunet’s arm with his shoulder.

Warmth from Noctis’ body permeated to Ignis and the brunet drummed his fingers anxiously on whether to curl them around Noctis’ stationed hand or keep them to himself.

Noctis rested his cheek on Ignis’ shoulder. “Promise that we can do this again soon?”

“Of course,” Ignis choked out, his heart thundered against his rib cage. “but I thought routine would bore you a tad.”

“Routine’s not that bad.” The king replied as he glanced at Ignis. “Gladio wakes me at the crack of dawn for training and would surprise me with fishing right after that. When Prompto says we’re going on an adventure, he really means the rooftop of our old high school for movie night. And us…” He pointed out to stars, drawing lines with his finger, connecting the dots. “Stars are our thing. Look, they’re shining for us right now.”

Noctis’ grin was the last thing Ignis saw.

Darkness crept in the advisor’s vision, ending a pleasant, but short-lived reprieve. The brunet inhaled deeply as he removed his visor. He tilted his head toward the heavens, determined to force his ruined eyes to see what needed to be seen.

Noctis is Ignis’ other half that he had longed for.

And now Ignis was alone because where Noctis had gone was where the living couldn’t follow.

“That’s right,” Ignis voiced, moving constellations in his mind just so they formed a familiar visage. “If nothing else, you and I… We still have the stars.”

There was sorrow in Ignis’ heart that he only saw stars in his dreams. But when the inevitable dawn arrived, his memories became fleeting as the wisps of smoke from a extinguished camp fire. Ignis had seen the wonders of the universe, but the warmth of Noctis’ gaze was a spectacular wonder found no where else.

Conversations had played repeatedly in his head: one prior to leaving the Crown City for the first time, the pilgrimage to the Disc of Cauthess, the ultimatum on blind loyalties, and the final night before Eos was to be liberated from its plague. For ten years, light was consumed by the Starscourge and ashes rained, smothering crops and contaminating bodies of water. Stars were fondly recanted as phenomena of legend, children born during that time never would’ve known their glory. Humanity had to create their own flickering lanterns in the darkness to survive.

The four warriors of the tragedy, in their youthful naïvety, never knew that it took just one man to herald the Light.

All that time, Ignis thought his sworn duty was to guide a young king to his fullest potential. It should’ve been obvious when King Regis never pressed the issue of leadership and he chose to simply place Noctis in his chamberlain’s care. Ignis was a fool. Noctis never became the ruler he was meant to be and Ignis never quite expressed the truth within his heart. Duty had outweighed emotion and irrationality, above everything. If only they had more time together.

Ignis loved Noctis.

In his heart, Ignis was bound to meet Noctis many times just as they would have to part ways afterwards. Time was endless and infinite. It had to be.

Perhaps in another universe things could’ve gone differently. Somewhere, Ignis was together with Noctis again. In that imagined world, there was a Ignis Scientia and a Noctis Lucis Caelum who were able to marvel at the same sky, find themselves in the same constellation, and share visceral sentiments of peace and melancholy that was beyond comprehension. Their world. They would discuss their reality of lost possibilities and endless adventures, maybe go as far to planning trips to space one day. The nightly conversations, entertaining and far-fetched as they were, remained dreams.

Noctis wasn’t a dream. He existed. He lived. Ignis could see him and if he reached out to touch him, it would be the closest he would ever get. Noctis was Ignis’ home. Ignis would never let Noctis go unforgotten, true love never diminishes in remembrance. There had to be some way to commemorate him.

Remembering wasn’t difficult when Noctis had his own constellation in the sky. It was named after him, its appearance more evident after a meteor shower.

Galaxies were ever-changing, steadily drifting in course but the patterns remained the same should the strategist pinpoint the stars’ coordinates. Wherever he was, Ignis hoped that Noctis could look down and see the world he saved.

Maybe in a not-so-distant future and in another life, they could celebrate such a victory.

“Thank you, Noct, for bringing the stars back and… Happy Birthday. Shall we witness our first sunrise when the time comes?”

#IgNoct #Ignis Scientia #Noctis Lucis Caelum #FFXV spoilers #FFXV #Final Fantasy XV #Final Fantasy 15 #Final Fantasy #FF15 #FF #Noctis/Ignis #Ignis/Noctis #Noctis and Ignis #Ignis and Noctis

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boysbeforehomework · 8 years ago

Text

Iridescent (a little bit of magic) - Yoonkook Week Day 1

Ayyyeeeee the blessed week is upon us!!! Okay so first up, Travel/Vacation, I hope I wrote something good here to do sugakookie some justice for the first day... Anyway, enjoy, sugakookie babies :) fluff; 1.8k

on AO3

- Yoongi's a little sleepy but, of course, he's willing to go out for a bit of exploring with Jungkook. -

On the flight over to the island, Yoongi hadn't been able to catch any sleep. He was sat in the window seat of the double next to Jungkook, who upon entering the plane, practically tumbled into the seat and halfway into Yoongi's lap. Jungkook had turned to look up at him with a sheepish smile, as if awaiting the mean little grumbles Yoongi had on reserve at all times. Instead, however, Yoongi just ruffled Jungkook's fluffy hair and let him fall asleep on his shoulder.

The soft, little breaths Jungkook would release sometimes had Yoongi's features melting into a peaceful kind of amusement. His phone became cluttered with some photos of the two of them plus Namjoon and Seokjin sitting in the same row on the opposite side of the aisle, and even more pictures of a sleeping Jungkook.

Even after his phone was safe in his pocket once more, Yoongi couldn't really fall asleep. He just took to staring out at the glittering clouds and then gazing down at Jungkook's increasingly puffy cheeks and lips.

When they'd arrived at the airport of the little island they were escaping to, it was mostly hectic until they reached the hotel. Soon, though, the running around to different rooms had died down and each of the seven found themselves doing as they pleased.

This brought Yoongi to where he lay on one of the poolside lounges, half-hidden by the palm trees dotting the pavement behind him. The heat was pleasant, sun covering him like a warm blanket, and he was sure he could fall asleep right there.

Before he crossed the boundary between dozing and a restful sleep, however, he heard the light tapping sound of slippers coming closer until there was a weight against his side.

“Hyung!”

Yoongi had readied himself with complaints but they quickly died in his throat as he opened his eyes to gaze up at Jungkook. For a moment, he didn't respond. How could he when the sun formed a halo around Jungkook's head and there was an excited smile on his pretty pink lips?

When he finally did respond, Jungkook continued with, “Do you want to go explore with me?”

“Why didn't you ask Tae or Jimin to go with you?” He asked, voice low.

“Well, obviously I wanted to spend time with my favorite hy--”

“They were busy, weren't they,” Yoongi said, chuckling lightly.

“Okay, yes, but I still do want to spend time with you, hyung. You're always busy so I figured this was the perfect opportunity!” Jungkook's eyes were shimmering with the excitement that had been growing since he found out their grand trip was to an island this time and Yoongi was weak, as usual. Who needs sleep anyway, right?

He began to raise himself, throwing his legs off the side so he could stand with a breathy huff. “Alright, where are we going?”

Jungkook beamed and came around to stand next to him. He grabbed Yoongi's arm and started to lead them to the stairs that would carry them down to the beach.

“Joon-hyung was telling me about this hidden place that's actually on the beach of this hotel. Apparently, it's gorgeous and cool, so I thought what better way to kick off this vacation than with some light exploration to find it!”

Though Yoongi was being tugged along for a bit, he felt a warmth blossoming in his chest at the youngest (sort of) wanting to run about with him. “How will you know when we find it?” Yoongi asked tentatively when Jungkook had released his arm and they were calmly strolling along the shore, letting the waves nip at their feet.

Swinging his arms as the light breeze blew through his brown hair, Jungkook smiled up at the sky and said, “We'll know.”

Yoongi nodded and looked down instead, curling his toes into the soft sand as they walked. He wondered how weird he would make things if he reached out and took Jungkook's hand, how the boy would react, if his gasp would be taken away with the receding tide. Yoongi’s fingers shook with unnecessary anticipation and he reached just a bit.

Jungkook did gasp right then but it wasn't because of Yoongi lacing their fingers together perfectly, but rather because he'd seen something up ahead. Yoongi barely had time to bask in his own stupidity and tiredness before Jungkook was grabbing his hand and pulling him into his side.

They'd stopped, Jungkook glancing down at Yoongi before nodding ahead. “It's the freshwater stream, hyung. I think if we just follow it a bit...ah, right there into the trees! I think that's where it is.”

As they followed the rivulet up the beach away from the waves, Yoongi noticed there was an increasing number of small rocks and stones dotting the sand under the clear water. They drew closer to where the sand met vegetation. Two palm trees stood tall on either side of the stream, low-hanging plants drooping lazily over it and hiding the rest of it from the waves’ mist and the curious clouds drifting slowly in the sky.

Without hesitation, Jungkook lifted away the plants and stepped through, holding it up for Yoongi to pass, too. The leaves had grazed against Yoongi’s face and made him reach up to itch his skin in annoyance, but when he looked up, his eyes widened in wonder. Namjoon wasn’t lying when he’d said it was a pretty, little hideaway. The stream glistened under the few rays of sunshine peeking through the leaves of the surrounding plants, the sound of its water rushing over the rocks serene and muted. There was a faded walkway next to it that followed the stream all the way until they disappeared through even more trees. Walking further into the small clearing they were suddenly in, Yoongi squinted to see a small green bridge up ahead before the dimness and wandered over to it.

“Jungkook, this is actually pretty nice,” he mumbled just loud enough for the boy to hear.

“I know, right. It’s lovely,” Jungkook replied, looking around before dropping down to kneel in the cool dirt next to the stream. “Hyung, look at these rocks! They’re so pretty!”

Yoongi turned, chuckling at the younger’s childlike behavior before plopping down right next to him. He watched as Jungkook dipped his hand into the shallow, crystalline water to run along the stones at the bottom. At closer inspection, Yoongi had to agree with Jungkook; the irregularly shaped stones glinted iridescent, green and purple tones showing themselves as they were disrupted.

As Jungkook toyed with the stones, eyes transfixed on the rush of the water, Yoongi’s wandered until they stuck on the particles floating through the air, riding on the sun’s rays. He rested his head on Jungkook’s shoulder, feeling himself relaxing at a rapid pace until he found that the magical particles were starting to blur and his eyelids drooped slightly. When he breathed deeply, he could feel the natural, clean air mingling with Jungkook’s light fragrance, and he found himself feeling far too calm.

He was unaware of how many minutes it’d been with them just sitting there before fingers lightly brushed his cheek and he heard a small laugh.

“I’m sorry I made you come with me, Yoongi-hyung. You’re so tired, you need to rest,” Jungkook said quietly.

“No, this is nice,” Yoongi replied, surprised to hear a minor slur worming its way through his words. Jungkook laughed again, wrapping his arm around Yoongi which effectively rid him of any protest to moving.

“Come on, let’s head back.” Jungkook stood, taking Yoongi up with him. The older breathed in again, this time to wake himself to normality. He took note of Jungkook’s arm not leaving his body so he reached around the younger’s slender waist to grip some of the fabric of Jungkook’s shirt as they walked back along the beach. Briefly, he thought they might look like a couple and he didn’t know whether to be happy about it or not, but he figured he could just settle for living in this precious moment.

Once they got back to resort and Yoongi was sat on one of the lounge chairs again, he found himself falling into a comfortable nap before Jungkook even came back with those pink, fruity drinks they had seen upon entering the hotel.

When he woke, the sun was setting and there was only one drink on the small table beside him next to a rim of water that looked to be pretty recent, for it had not dried up completely.

In the days following, neither Jungkook nor Yoongi got time to go back to that magical little place they’d found.

On the last day of their vacation, after an outing and some poolside relaxation with the group, Yoongi trudged from the elevator to his designated room with only the thought of getting some sleep before their flight early the next morning. He shuffled into his room, darting around quickly to gather his bathroom essentials. With his pace, he wasn’t paying enough attention and promptly slammed his hip into the chair by the desk that was not tucked in neatly anymore.

He stopped when the pain faded, an object on the desk catching his attention. It was a stone, beautiful in its irregular shape and iridescent tones, and next to it was the hotel notepad sporting a small drawing of a heart and a smiley face, as if the artist was shy or didn’t know what message could be placed with this gift. Yoongi picked the stone up and set in the middle of his palm, a silly grin growing on his face.

Yoongi was the first to get to their seats in the airplane and he made sure Jungkook, in his groggy, soft state, was close behind. They sat quietly while the plane filled up, fidgeting in effort to get comfortable. Jungkook had rested his head back against the seat, eyes closed, and Yoongi took to staring without shame.

When he felt the plane beginning to move and, with a quick glance around, came to the conclusion that everyone was pleasantly tired from the trip, he smiled to himself, one hand gripping the stone in his pocket and the other finding Jungkook’s hand. The now laced fingers were placed on the armrest and before Jungkook could open his eyes, Yoongi leaned over to press his lips to the boy’s cheek.

Jungkook’s eyes shot open and he turned to look at the older as he sat back. Confusion was written across his features, soft with sleep but still in shock.

“Thank you,” Yoongi said simply, smile on his lips as the realization slowly dawned on Jungkook. Then, he was faced with a blinding grin, and Yoongi’s heart twisted as he took in all the soft puffiness and beauty.

Though the stone would end up right on his work desk so he could be reminded of the enchanting spot whenever he looked at it, its beauty could never rival Jungkook’s.

#yoonkook week #day 1 #sugakookie #yoonkook #THERE ARE TWO HOURS LEFT IN THE DAY I MADE IT OK #but anyway this is hella rushed #sorry if its a bit shitty #BRUH I DID THIS INSTEAD OF MY HW PRAY FOR ME #so i write

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