#but it's SO funny to watch him just. spiritually i KNOW that man is rolling his eyes. smth smth the cockiness of youth | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shinygoku · 4 months ago

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Magical Mystery Tour (1967)

Rare American Beatle Album W ! The original English release was only the newest songs that was used in their TV Special, and while they were good, it was shockingly short, so this version was beefed up by kidnapping Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields Forever, as well and sticking a couple other singles and the song written for a special BBC Show to promote unity – All You Need Is Love. The way I phrased it makes it seem a bit haphazard, but are the results surprisingly harmonious, if less themed that Sgt Pepper?

Frankly, this is my least favourite cover so far. Both the UK version, which is just the inner picture, and this border'd and song listing US take, it's so busy yet visually uninteresting. They're in their hideous animal masks (you guys are wealthy enough to have bespoke fursuits made!!) and the stars spelling out BEATLES [where's the The?] just look offputting, and I like the US Border clouds more as a design cue to follow but it doesn't gel with anything else, including the inconsistently formatted names of the tracks. But let's not judge the book by it's cover...

SIDE ONE

Magical Mystery Tour: Roll Uuuuuup! For those who ain't sure, a Mystery Tour is something that was once quite common on British Holidays, or Staycations. When in your place away from home, one of the forms of "entertainment" would be crowding onto a bus to be driven to an unknown destination, a place of local interest or tourist hotspot. It sounds rubbish to me, but in the pre-internet days they had some popularity. Anyway, the song itself does not sound rubbish at all, though it's basic structure with minimal variation isn't particularly enchanting, or magical, either. The spoken words adds a little bit of interest, like of the ticket seller trying to snag attention and customers. A middle-of-the-road song for the big yellow bus!

The Fool On The Hill: The first time I heard this, when the Recorder piped in I was like "oh nooooo" but such is Paul's Power that not only does it work, but this song is one'a my favourites! Kind of a spiritual sequel to Nowhere Man, but this time instead of an obliviously lost individual aimlessly wandering, the "Fool" is actually very wise and it's everyone else shunning him from their own small mindedness. Even with this melancholy text, the music is jaunty and melodic and one I go back to often~ (and check out the '23 mix to hear how many different instruments are used in it!!)

Flying: One of the most odd-one-out of their whole discography! No lyrics, only instruments! And credited to the whole group, at that?! It makes very groovy background music, though as I'm not watching the visuals that were in the TV Special, I have to imagine the colours swirling myself lol - It seems to take a moody turn towards the end which makes me like it less, but it does flow better into the next song that way...

Blue Jay Way: What sounds lovely based on the title is actually named after some treacherous roads! Where people are lost at night and George is waiting for them to arrive and constantly reasserting "Please don't be long" This one makes me feel anxious :( I wanted to put the "Mom pick me up I'm scared" meme here but it messed up the formatting. Obviously to be dread-inducing is the intent, but it means I also avoid it like the plague. Well done? It's great at making something sound unpleasant, so objectively it's a success but for me I have to reject it. And even if ya like it, it doesn't half keep not ending! It goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on........... and on and on!

Your Mother Should Know: Ooooh I love this one!! Another very repetitive song, but upkey and good at coaxing me into movement! It sounds much more sincere and sweet than many, encouraging the audience to connect with the older generation as they may be privy to knowledge ya wouldn't have had otherwise. Also kinda funny for the "Your Momma So Old" style, but again, a genuine Nice Song without hidden cynicism for once XD;;

I Am The Walrus: Possibly John's most iconic song if not for the competition... If Lucy in the Sky was evocative of Lewis Carroll, this one is full blast, and only in part to the Walrus being from the Walrus and the Carpenter story within a story from Through The Looking Glass. The nonsense words strung together form something akin to being spoken to in a language you barely understand, and yet the flow of the music keeps the interest and oddly catchy nature running. Woven throughout all that is some dope instrumentals, like the Strings and Drums, and the odd turn it takes towards the end as a radio broadcast appears (again, the '23 picks this out nice and clearly~). It's another song I prefer to listen to in the daytime as the repetition at the end, orchestra fade in and radio static is a bit spooky XD;; – Apparently the BBC banned this song for a while from the line about knickers lmao. And this song inspired Dr Eggman in the Sonic the Hedgehog series!! Goo Goo G'joob!

SIDE TWO

Hello Goodbye: Paul is back with another upbeat seemingly simple ditty that I'm quite partial to! Of note is the drums and guitar flourishes and the counter vocals and the clever use of Aloha in the coda, but other than this being fun I don't have a lot to talk about. A good candyfloss type song, not much substance but a nice treat~ Oh, and watch the video! It's heavily Paul Energy but that makes is a funny lark with the boys wearing their fetching Sgt Peppers gear and even a nostalgic if odd Collarless Suits moment XD

Strawberry Fields Forever: One of John's very strongest songs, based on his childhood days messing around in the grounds of a children's home in Liverpool (seemingly these were unattended or he never got kicked out for trespassing lol). This song notably uses a Mellotron, an organ like contraption that inconsistently plays sound samples, as well as making interesting use of more conventional instruments, like the hard percussion found throughout and the odd little twangs of something at various points. This also famously is made up of two different takes played at different speeds, overlapping, which all enhances the eerie, dreamlike feel.

It's not entirely coherent, but this song feels like it has something to say about nostalgia and being able to connect with others. It also has a lovely music video of the lads larking about in a field (no strawberries, though!) and painting a piano that seems to be connected to a tree as another curious instrument. But there's a dark side to this hazy song that kicks in towards the end and with the coda; the drums get heavier, brass sounds like sirens, and John's distorted CRANBERRY SAUCE leave this with a slightly unsettling, but extremely memorable vibe. Peak John, everyone~

Penny Lane: One of Paul's very strongest songs, made in response to Strawberry Fields and thus also incorporating a big dose of Childhood in Liverpool nostalgia. This one stays brighter throughout, and seemingly much simpler, though a closer listen will shed more light on surreal moments and even innuendo. The chord progression is pleasing and little extra sound effects and the piccolo trumpet add further interest to the expected high quality.

This one also has a slightly off ending, this time the sounds trailing off with the cymbal seemingly left to resonate. The music video is another feature of interest, cutting between the real locale and the Boys riding on horseback to reach a fancy tea party, which is later upturned. The two songs feel like two sides of a coin and I'm so fond of both, oddities and all!

Baby You're A Rich Man: Apparently the manager of the band, Brian Epstein, really didn't like this one and thought it was directed at him? And I know that John in particular was mean sometimes, though all I have is hearsay, and no way of knowing if that was his intent or an unfortunate miscommunication. This is made a hotter topic by the allegations that the last spoken title in this is using an altered line to be more insulting ...I don't know if I hear it or the power of suggestion is in play, so I'm not writing it out. But if true then yeah, it's very tacky and uncool. Other than all that, I'm not that wowed by this one. It's whatever, falls way short of the other nonsense lines like Walrus and their musical instrument skill is always a high standard. I only slightly prefer to listen to it than Blue Jay Way as it doesn't fill me with dread, just Nothing.

All You Need Is Love: I find it a little odd how it starts of with the French national anthem, but for a very basic song on the surface I really dig it. They're right! Love for fellow man, for interests, for the world we live in, and more! That's what it's all about, baybee! Not just one kind but all sorts of Love!! The messages of encouragement for being oneself and trying things out, and the extremely raw, passionate reprise of She Loves You (YEAAHHH YEAH YEAH) helps carry this simple ditty into one I always look forward to – and its use in Yellow Submarine has even more gravitas! Believe Me!!

CONCLUSION

Best 3: The Fool On The Hill, Strawberry Fields Forever, Penny Lane

Blurst 3: Flying, Blue Jay Way, Baby You're A Rich Man

Overall Quality?: We have a slightly awkward moment here, as the two easily best numbers weren't meant to go with the songs under the Magical Mystery Tour banner, and rather outshine them. Such things do occur when going against the authors' intent, which technically this album is...! But, like the yt upload of TFOTH with Paul prancing around on French hills, it was rather too short for the liking of consumers... XD;; (For what it's worth, my Best 3 picks from the UK ver of MMT would be TFOTH, IAMTW and YMSK)

So yeah, SFF and PL really are stolen valour that should have gone into Sgt Pepper.... though that may've made an album too packed for its own good! But ouughhh, the themes really do tie into that album more, while the MMT originals having a more ....mysterious and magical, I s'pose, energy to 'em was the point. And then there's the other singles stapled on, some I really like and then BYARM which I think sucks. Still though, the album is very much more Hits than Misses, and I only have Flying on the Blurst list as it lacking vocals means it's hard for it to compete with the clever and/or fun of the songs that do have more words. To sum it all up I'd say it's Eclectic.

🪲🪲🪲🪲

So, back to the Band's intended canon next and it's ...The Beatles. Much better known as The White Album, but given how very long it is, for my own sanity I may hafta keep each mini-review for the songs short, or else it wouldn't be done in time! ^^;;;

#The Beatles #Magical Mystery Tour #Magical Mystery Tour (Album)#CutCat listens to Bug Music #Music Review #I'm still failing the 'Enjoy George original songs' challenge but BJW makes my anxiety worse so... :v #I'm still on the fence between Rubber Soul and Revolver being The Best but let's document the latter stuff before calling it!#And other singles that weren't abducted here deserve some time too~

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taffybear · 3 years ago

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random funny headcanons for the bay boys cause I have nothing better to do ❤ part 1 cause I ran out of steam

part 2

to everyone who has sent in an unanswered ask: oMG I KNOW I'M LATE Y'ALL I'M SO SORRY BUT I SWEAR I'M WORKING ON EM THANKS FOR WAITING SKSK

Leonardo

Rock-a-Bye Bivalve is his favorite Spongebob episode. It just needs to be said. He loves the concept that Spongebob and Patrick agreed to take equal responsibility of Junior and instead the workload gets tossed on Spongebob. He can relate to an extent, as he feels like a motherly figure to his own family. He also laughs at every. Single. Joke. While you're sitting there watching it next to him you can't help but giggle when he empatheticly nods as Spongebob's problems are stated. "What?" "... I am concerned why you can relate to this so much."

Can sing SO WELL? He just doesn't know his own potential. He will refuse to sing aloud to ANYONE but at the off chance you catch him when he thinks he's alone, it's a spiritual experience. I mean obviously he's a great singer, he literally has the voice of an angel. He doesn't get all belty or loud when he sings, it's always just quiet bits and pieces--like he's normally talking but with a rhythm. Mikey is secretly jealous. When Leo thinks you're asleep he whisper-sings lullabies to you.

Binged all of The Office and Parks and Recreation with Donnie. It took a month in total. They got really into it and devoted like 3 hours a day holed up in Donnie's lab to watch it (what a bonding experience 😚). Leo prefers Parks and Rec but Don is The Office all the way. They still get into heated brawls.

Has secretly named his Bonsai trees. He didn't even mean to--he just subconsciously started referring to them by names. His favorite trees are called Chloe, Esmeralda, Big Oscar, Jacqueline, and Artimus (they're his children so he loves them all equally ofc, but these are star performers). He tries so hard to keep it a secret but sometimes he'll just blurt out a name. "Aw darn, I forgot to clip Arty's bad branch this morning." Then he'll clap his hands over his mouth after he realizes he just exposed his plant's identity; but ofc everyone only makes it a big deal because he makes it a big deal.

Does not curse often, and instead just says the most hilarious shit when something doesn't go his way. "Oh, fiddlesticks!" "What poppycock!" "This is hogwash!" "Balderdash!" "This really ruffles my feathers!" This man unironically exclaims, "Ah, shucks!" Raph is not okay.

Is actually the best dancer. Apparently years of training his body to obey his will has turned him into a specimen of grace. This guy can do 4 flips in a row and then land into a split without having to catch his breath, so ofc he can rock Just Dance. He won't actually dance confidently in front of anyone, but he will dad-dance for laughs. He'll dab and floss to make Mikey shriek in agony. But he has hidden talent. In an ideal world he's lead singer and does his own choreography 😔

Carries a scent of tea and lavender. At night he'll light lavender incense to relax, and thus he smells like... a meditation class? He smells like he rolled around in manners. You can't put your finger on it but he just smells... charming.

Raphael

Such a sore loser. Raph plays games to win. Whatever it is; a board game, video game, sparring match, staring contest, if he loses he will literally hold a grudge against you for the rest of the day. No rematch, he'll just come up with an excuse for your win and then go through the five stages of grief.

Watches Golden Girls every Saturday night with Splinter (yes father son bond time!). Firmly believes this is peak comedy. Loves Sophia with a passion. Can recite the theme perfectly.

Sings in the shower. ALL Disney princess songs. Starts off really quiet, but eventually works up to like passionate belting. Ofc he'll shut up the second someone comes into close proximity.

LOVED Dora the Explorer as a kid. He watched that show religiously. Actually learned a lot of Spanish too. He thinks he's forgotten all the vocabulary he learned when he was 6, but every now and then if someone's speaking Spanish on TV or something, he can actually translate like 70% of it. Mikey teases that Raph had the hots for Dora... he's not wrong.

You know he really likes you when he knits you something. A sweater, blanket, scarf, whatever. Ofc it takes a long time to make it, but it takes him even longer to give it to you. Or anyone, for that matter. He'll get into a really sentimental mood about his brothers at some random time, knit those feelings out, then just take months to get the courage to give it to them. He'll make things for Splinter shamelessly tho. He also repairs anything torn up he can get his hands on. Needle and thread is his second language.

Snores very loudly. Like Mikey is mad he doesn't have ears to put earplugs in, loudly. Not all the time though, and maybe just in one position, but when he snores it is v i o l e n t. He also talks in his sleep, and surprisingly most of the time it's really cute stuff. "Thank you, Mr. Bubbles, I would love some marshmallow taffy." Like, where did these dreams come from? But then someone comes out with a chainsaw. And the other half of the time it just sounds so normal; he's just quietly talking about his day or asking where the orange juice is. You'll think you're in a conversation with him and it's awkward when you realize he's just blabbering in his sleep.

Is a very gifted break dancer 👌 aND he can do the moon walk

#tmnt #tmnt headcanons #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2016 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #leonardo #raphael #tmnt raph #tmnt leo #bayverse tmnt

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chimielie · 3 years ago

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just keep on winning

summary: Oikawa x Figure Skater!Reader. He wonders why everyone warned him about the Olympic sex-fest; he thinks he’s in far more danger if he’s developing a crush this bad after approximately half an hour of interaction. Sequel here.

word count: 3.6k

cw: swearing, sex jokes, one self-indulgent reference to favor the brave, reader speaks All The Languages

a/n: per anon's request! i got totally carried away and did so much research and then i didn't want to throw away half the fic because i'd done all that research ahaha so. three thousand six hundred and thirty something words [crying emoji] enjoy!! i had a lot of fun tbh so i hope you do too

Oikawa is getting tired of having condoms thrown at him.

It’s funny the first day, when he arrives in Olympic Village, when the staff member showing them around points to the freely available contraceptives— a veritable mountain of them— and his teammates nudge him, smirking.

“Hardly enough for the whole team,” they all laugh raucously. “Hell, Tooru alone’ll be burning through those in the first week.”

“I’m here to win,” he says sternly, making a show of grabbing a few packets and tossing them in the air, catching them with his other hand and tucking it neatly behind his back. “But it’s always best to be safe.”

“Now he’s concerned with his well being,” comments Bruno.

“I’m in top health,” he snaps his wrist back and sends one of the foil packets spinning through the air. It lands squarely on his friend’s forehead, and he catches it only after it bounces off. “Improve your reflexes before you tell me I work too much.”

The guide looks both awestruck and like she’s trying not to laugh. He winks at her and she covers her squeak with one hand.

It’s still funny that night, when he’s settling into his dorm and walks into the hall, only to be pelted with foil packets.

“Please, please, I know I’m attractive, but there’s no need to beg for my attention like this,” he laughs. “Watch the face! Aye, those corners are sharp!”

He can barely sleep that night, partially because of jet lag and partially because he lies awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking I’m at the Olympics I’m an Olympian holy fucking shit I’m an Olympics holy shit holy shit holy shit!

If you were a mind reader, his thoughts would sound like a series of exclamation marks.

He gets a scant three hours of sleep before he’s awoken a full half hour early by the obnoxious, familiar smack of his best friend.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Iwaizumi says, folding his arms. Oikawa rubs his eyes.

“Awoken by my true love,” he says breathily, and gets smacked again.

“I forgot you were a morning person,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “Sick in the head, you are.”

“I missed you!” Oikawa throws his arms around the shorter man. “And I’ll pretend those weren’t your first words to me in person after nine million years of not getting to experience my winsome face-to-face presence.”

Iwaizumi’s arms come up to squeeze Oikawa just as tightly.

“Yeah, I missed you too.”

They go for a run together, and Oikawa finds that he’s gotten faster than Iwaizumi. Sure, he was slightly impaired during their last year of school, but it’s still something to gloat about.

“I can’t even be mad, Olympian,” Iwaizumi holds out his fist when they’re done. Oikawa bumps it, then dashes for the meal center.

“Race you!” He calls over his shoulder, and he can feel Iwaizumi’s eyes roll, like, spiritually, but he follows nevertheless.

“—You were like whoosh, and scree! And then BAM!” Comes a familiar voice, and sure enough, when Oikawa swings his head around, the sound effects are emitting from a bright orange shortstack.

“Small fry!” Calls Oikawa, dashing over and lifting him into the air. “How’s it going?”

“I’m at the Olympics!” States Hinata enthusiastically. Oikawa laughs.

“This is true. So am I!”

“Did you see all the condoms?” Hinata drops his voice to a loud whisper. “I saw them and thought of you.”

Oikawa blinks and receives with not a little amusement another few foil packets.

“You messing with my team?” Iwaizumi looms up behind him and Oikawa laughs, handing him the condoms.

“Chibi-chan here was just trying to help me out, I guess,” he says. “I have more than enough already, you know, my team was throwing them at me yesterday. Wasteful, honestly. I’m not planning on getting lucky with anything except my match with them.” He jerks his chin towards the gathered Japanese National Team. “And that won’t be luck,” he finishes, a prideful feeling swelling in his chest as his eyes land on his own team, sitting together and digging into their own morning meals.

Three days after arriving in Olympic Village, it’s not so funny anymore.

“We’re not in high school anymore,” he whines when he sits down next to a grinning Iwaizumi, who’s holding a bowl of condoms. “I’m not a flirt, I’m just good looking.”

“Lying is a sin,” says Lopez piously, grabbing a few for himself.

“Premarital sex is a sin,” Oikawa says, snatching the bowl back. “Get your own.”

Five days in, he’s adjusted fully to the new time zone— better than most of his teammates can say, but what can he say? He’s never had much trouble with moving around, or with forcing his body through grueling regimens.

Oikawa may not be in high school anymore, but he may still have a slight problem with overworking himself. Slightly.

“Tooru,” Coach Blanco calls, walking in. “You’ve been at it for a little too long. Take a breather.”

Oikawa tosses the ball in his hands up in the air and hits it hard, watching it flatten on the opposite side of the court with no small satisfaction. The bang echoes in total silence.

“Last one, Coach,” he says cheerily as he walks past Blanco to collect his things. “You know we’re at the Olympics, yeah? No such thing as too much training.”

Blanco tosses the ball back to him, all the way across the court.

“Don’t let your anxiety control the way you play,” he says simply. “That includes injuring yourself through overwork. Blow off some steam. Use some of those condoms, or, better yet, go see one of the massage therapists.”

Well, he has no intention of using the condoms.

He’s supposed to meet Iwaizumi in the spa, but when he gets there, his friend is already in conversation with someone.

“Behind you,” he taps the athletic trainer on the shoulder. Iwaizumi’s conversational partner, who had been turned around, pointing at something, spins on their heel, and—

Oh.

Your smile is the first thing he notices, huge and infectious and wildly attractive. He can feel citrus bursting on his tongue, looking at that smile. He can feel the Argentinean sun on his skin, looking at that smile.

“Oh, you’re the one Iwaizumi is meeting! I’ll let him go, then, I’d hate to keep you—” you direct the you at Iwaizumi— “from your hot date.”

“He’s passable at best,” Iwaizumi says.

“And I’m here for a massage! I would hate to be the one to take Iwa-chan from his girlfriend when I set them up,” he throws an arm over Iwaizumi’s shoulder and is promptly shrugged off.

“You barely set us up,” he says. “Barely.”

“All my work,” Oikawa tells you. You throw him a bone and nod conspiratorially. “You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

Iwaizumi snorts.

“I just have one of those faces,” you say, deadpan, but a new smile, mischievous and close-lipped, tugs at the corners of your mouth. “You said you needed a massage?”

You pass by him in line for lunch the next day, after he’s gotten an excellent massage and a good night’s sleep. He was barely even sore this morning— and despite all his protesting, he knows he should have been barely able to move after his excessive-even-for-the-fucking-Olympics training regimen of the last couple days. Sure, their early arrival and need to adjust to Japan Standard Time means that their schedules are a little more lax than they will be in a week, but he knows that he’s been grating on his trainer’s nerves.

You smile at him, orange peels and sunny skies, and he grins back, his grip on his plate nearly slipping.

“My favorite massage therapist!” He cheers, and a split second of confusion crosses your face.

“I didn’t give you a massage?”

“Yeah, but you are one, right?” He gasps. “Unless you’re an athlete, oh my God, I just assumed, which event are you competing in? I’m so sorry—”

“Hey, don’t worry, don’t worry,” you wave him off with crinkled eyes. “I’m not competing in the 2020 Summer Olympics,” you deepen your voice and make jazz hands. “I still didn’t give you a massage, though.”

“There’s time yet,” he tells you. “I didn’t even get your name, gosh, I’m all sorts of scrambled.”

“No worries, it’s stressful to have the Games coming up,” you say. “Uh, right?” He nods. “It’s Y/N L/N, and I don’t know your name either.”

“Tooru Oikawa,” he says. “I’d shake, but my hands are full, sorry.”

“No worries,” you say, and graze your cheek along his. Tooru doesn’t blush as easily as he did when he lived here, but he can still feel his face filling with red. “You’re Argentine, yeah? Hope that wasn’t weird.”

“Yeah,” he says. “You know our customs so well, you should come sit with us. Me and the team.”

“Hmm,” you say, twisting your lips to the side. “I don’t know, will Iwaizumi be there?”

“Uh,” Oikawa flicks his eyes towards his team’s area. “I can’t see from here.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, turning towards where he’s looking. “He has a girlfriend, and I think you’re more attractive anyway.”

When you look over your shoulder, he’s still staring at you, an embarrassed, delighted expression making its way over his face.

He wonders why everyone warned him about the Olympic sex-fest; he thinks he’s in far more danger if he’s developing a crush this bad after approximately half an hour of interaction.

Evidently, there’s no need to introduce you to his team, or at least one of them.

“Y/N!” Beams Garcia, and as soon as he’s standing you’re dapping him up, then going in for a one-armed hug. Oikawa’s not sure if he’s more jealous that you evidently know his teammate or pleased that you gave him and not Garcia a cheek kiss.

“How have you been?”

“I’d be better if you’d text me back!” You laugh at him, patting the pocket your phone is evidently in.

“I’m busy,” you tell him. “And you haven’t texted me for, like, half a year.”

“You know each other?” Oikawa asks, deliberately keeping his tone light. “Tell me, Garcia, why didn’t you introduce me sooner?”

You giggle, and pride swells in his chest.

“We met at a party a couple years ago,” you tell Oikawa. “I wrecked him at beer pong once, too.”

“Some party,” Garcia snorts.

“What,” Oikawa looks between you two, bewildered. “What kind of party was this? Like?” He makes some obscene gesture— he doesn’t even know what he’s miming, honestly. For a renowned flirt in Japan (and alright, he’s had his moments in the years since he left), he’s found that he’s considered hilariously prudish to some people. Culture is a funny thing.

Garcia merely roars with laughter, while you keep looking at Oikawa for a little while longer. Your eyes on him are altogether too much for him, and he drops his hands, feeling heat rise to his cheeks once more. He shovels rice into his mouth and hopes that he doesn’t choke.

“No,” your face dawns with realization. “Oh, no, not at all.” Your laughter is as intoxicating as the rest of you, charming and undiluted by any emotion other than simple, pure happiness. You lean on him for support, your hand burning through his jersey and right to his skin as you continue to be overcome. He’s sure his teammates are taking note of his sickening, schmaltzy expression, and he’s sure he’ll get unprecedented levels of shit for it later, but you look up at him, bent at the waist, eyes sparkling and little noises of mirth still escaping your chest as you try to get your breathing to stabilize, and, wow, he has to swallow his rice fast or he really will choke.

“It wasn’t that funny,” he defends.

“You didn’t see yourself. What were you even— even—” and he’s sent you off again, peals of laughter ringing through his head and leaving it stuffed with cotton.

“You leave Oikawa speechless,” Lopez says when all the hysterics have finally died down. Oikawa sits, arms crossed, pouting. “We like you. Come to our practice today.”

“My schedule’s clear,” you shrug. “If it’s okay with you?”

It takes him a second to realize that you’re talking to him.

“Of course, I’d love it if you come,” he says, folding his hands.

As you poke his cheek— and so does Garcia, on his other side, but he’s not concerned with Garcia— he thinks— it’s too much like high school.

In high school, he liked having his girlfriend watch him practice (she hadn’t liked it so much). He’d dated people since then, too, but none of them (save the one volleyball player) had ever been asked to practice, and the v-ball player had been critical instead of cheering him on, and that was just weird. Thus, after practice, he’s a little nervous.

His crush is barely a crush and he suffers no illusions about that. But so early on, there are signs that you’ll get along with him, and your reaction to the love of his life, his cruelest mistress, his reason for living (he could go on), is certainly one.

He knows you’ve seen volleyball before, since it had been asked on your way over.

“...What did you think?” Is his leading question, you having sped to the front of the group as they all walk back for free time and dinner.

“So cool! Volleyball looks fun— well, I wasn’t any good at it, back in middle school— and you’re incredible.” You gush, and he swears all the muscles in his body release their tension right then. “I didn’t even want to cheer while you were playing, I was too nervous— you looked so focused.”

“You could’ve cheered,” he ducks his head and scratches the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I’ll be cheering during the games,” you say confidently.

“I’ll keep an ear out,” he says, knocking into you by accident. You just knock him back, though, and it’s easy. You get me, he thinks.

The two of you form a casual friendship over the next week— you’re often hanging around the spa, and Tooru gets sent there more often than he’d like to admit, and you help him relax, with your upbeat attitude and encouraging nature.

His team likes you, too, and instead of inflaming into some kind of disturbing obsession, his attraction to you relaxes into a simple interest in your person and an appreciation of your presence.

It’s two nights before the opening ceremony (breathe, Tooru, two nights, two nights) and he’s watching Schweiden Adler matches on his phone after dinner, earbuds in.

“Hey,” you say, sliding into the seat next to him, and he plucks them out, waving at you mutely. “Nervous?”

“Me? Never,” he says drily. “Only the biggest event of my life so far.”

“Hey, you’ve been working toward this your entire life,” you pat him on the shoulder. “I’m not going to tell you to relax because that would be stupid, but don’t drive yourself up a wall with anxiety. The Games are games— they can be as fun as they are nerve-wracking.”

“You speak from experience?” He’s looking at you with lazy eyes, a smirk plastered over his face, and while his expression is fond, it doesn’t distract from the keen sensation that you are looking at one of the most intense people you will ever meet.

“Sochi 2014,” you say, biting your lip as you smile. The unnerving aura around him disappears within a second as his mouth drops into a perfect oval. “And PyeongChang 2018, too.”

“You— you lied! To me! Like a liar!” He balls up his napkin and throws it at you. “You said you weren’t an athlete!”

“I did not,” you dodge. “I said I wasn’t competing here! I’m a winter sport! Stop throwing things at me!”

“I wanna see,” he gasps, wide eyed and seemingly already forgetting all about the betrayal. “Show me, show me, show me show me show me!”

“Fine, fine,” you push at his head with one hand, but he returns, dogged. “Look me up on YouTube.”

He’s never typed in anything faster— maybe this is what his slim, long setter fingers are for.

“This one?” He points at the first result. You take his phone and squint at the screen, scrolling through the videos.

“Mm, no. No. Oh, that one was embarrassing. No. Wait, this one was good! This one, this one.” You make your selection and hand the device back to him. He puts in the right earbud and offers you the left. “Oh, I don’t need it. I mean, I was there, so, uh…”

“Just take it,” he says, and you favor him with a shy smile and take the bud.

He presses play.

You glide onto the screen amidst applause and the overlaid commentary begins, introducing you, your range within a point system he doesn’t understand, and the music, which he’s pretty sure he used to listen to as motivational study music back in high school.

You skate around the rink a few times, then take your place still, folding yourself into a graceful starting position. The music begins, and the camera angle shifts. He can see the beatific smile on your face as you begin moving, quick, yet graceful. Your costume is dazzling, but not distracting or gauche— he doesn’t care much about the way you’re dressed, anyway, not when you look like that.

Your tights are, in a word, tight, and if he were a lesser man he’s sure he’d be zeroed in on your ass, which is admittedly right there. His eyes instead trace the long line of your back, the smooth curves of your arms and your well-muscled thighs, the way you look like you were born walking on ice instead of steady land. He becomes more and more sure that every inch of you must be pure muscle as the video progresses. You move lightly through the first minute, swinging like there are wings holding you up from one improbable position to the next.

The music intensifies, and he leans closer as your movements become more dramatic, although you still appear to be swimming through the air, no less bound by the laws of gravity now than he is on the volleyball court. Every beat is hit, every movement is obviously precise even to his untrained eye. Watching you skate, Oikawa realizes that he’s been dining with a master.

Your skating is equal parts dancing and storytelling on ice. Oikawa can appreciate that even without knowing what most of the moves mean.

He pauses the video and tries to unjumble his words.

“Can we mute it and you explain?” he says, all in a rush, words stringing together as clumsily as he feels compared to you.

“You’re sure?”

“I don’t like the announcer’s voice,” he nods, even though he could care less. He just wants to hear it from the person doing it.

“Alright,” and you might be winter sports royalty, but the way you brighten up talking about figure skating is still reminiscent of July, hot and reverent and limned with white gold. “So there’s the triple lutz-triple loop, which I was so worried about because I kept fucking it up in practice, not to mention that it doesn’t have the push a toe loop gives…”

He listens carefully as you tell him all about a sport he’s never even considered before, and he might be a stranger to skating, but the love and fire in your voice as you speak is as familiar as his own reflection. The commentary you provide doesn’t detract at all, but instead gives him insight into the skater on his screen, helps him understand. For a short while, he falls in love with figure skating, too.

On his phone, you finish, arms held high, eyes glittering, and after a second of that elegant, frozen landing, you’re skating around the rink again, gloved hands thrown up in the air as that orange-peel smile crosses your face, bigger than he’s seen it even in real life. You exit the rink, not even stumbling as you transition to the mats from the ice the way he used to when his sister took him skating as a kid.

“So what does that mean? What did you get?” He asks, when the video ends, again on a point scoring system he doesn’t understand. Your smile is triumphant, even after all these years.

“Gold.”

Oikawa Tooru doesn’t like geniuses.

He does like passion, evidently, he thinks your demonstrable expertise is hot. He likes athleticism, and drive, and going the distance. He likes you, and you have all these things, and it’s frightening, how seductive not even five minutes of watching you in your element was.

He hopes he’ll have a reason to use those condoms eventually.

“Holy fucking shit,” he breathes, and wraps his arms around you in a hug. You lean in just as hard, the victory still fresh, your laurels barely askew.

“Right? I wasn’t a top pick to win, either, I earned that with blood,” you tell him. He squints at you.

“Can you read minds?”

“What? No. Why?” He shakes his head, refocusing. Oikawa’s cheeks are red and his eyes are clear when he runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it so it falls in soft waves over his ears (also red). He leans away from you, an inch or so, and then closer again. He smells like lemongrass and young love, and even though you’re not kids anymore you don’t think it’s so terrible that he makes you feel like one.

“Not important. Can I take you out sometime after the Games are done?”

tagging: @crystal-lilac , @kohi-zeri

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa tōru x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #happy late bday oikawa!!

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yostresswritinggirl · 4 years ago

Text

Antinomy

Part 2; things are brewing. VIBE

“Do you know the spiritual meaning of 11? What about in numerology? You’ll find it quite intriguing, funny even… until it starts making sense.” You’ve witnessed and harnessed the way and days he had grown to be; this fic enumerates the trials of the 11th before he became a Harbinger under your care. From strangers to mentor to friends to love- Childe made a grave mistake, now you’re once again strangers.

Pairing -> Childe x Harbinger!Fem!Reader

Word Count -> 5217

Themes -> Friends to admirers, mentor, fluffy, suddenly ANGST

Series -> #Sojourner Specials (600 Followers Event) Part 1

Warning -> Blood and injury

Maybe it was stubbornness, his unhinged desire for the thrill of a fight, or you mistaken misguidance. Many possibilities, really, but Childe knows it had nothing to do with all of those. You're not to blame for his mistakes, but he sure as hell would have to pay for the mess he just created.

vi. fontaine

The show felt like a dance made to lure and trance such audience, and despite his resolve and difference in agendas, the strong Harbinger had been victim to the beauty of the show. Of swaying thin clothes and alluring flicks of the hips.

“We’re not co-workers, we don’t know each other, remember that.”

Tambourines and lyres synced through the performance as men and women alike cheered and stumbled to the songs. The Snezhnayan dancers set the bar high in terms of beauty as the Fatui disguised as performers indulged the crowd in symphony and dance, as if the whole nation was under a mania, no one saw and no one heard. They just followed lead as the agents lulled their own targets into a sense of security and joy.

In the middle of the crowd you lead the choreography as the main dancer, distinguished by the colors of your garb and its grandiosity, yet still respectably covered compared to the other performers. Your main objective was to catch the havoc of a man that left the headquarters of your organization in flames at his wake; and yet, it was instead Childe that was allured to your spell.

An intoxicated man had been eyeing your behind with drooling eyes for a while now, and with the assistance of liquid courage, he reached his hand out to get a feel- when it landed on gray pants of firmness. “Oh my, I didn’t know you swing that way, citizen,” you whipped around to see Childe directly behind you, who was also has his head angled to look behind him where a Fontaine man stumbled back in disgust. His hand clutched to his chest as if it were burned. “Sad news tho, I’m off the table, try someone else maybe.”

Before you can register the edge in his voice, he was already guiding you by the hand back to your dancing stride. You were momentarily stunned but devolved into a glare at his current recklessness, “Come now, Lady Viscaria.” He addressed you by your dancer name. “The whole world is high in the clouds around us, this would be a moment no one will remember.” You didn’t even need to look to know he was right, and you succumbed with a sigh.

Childe didn’t realize just how small your hands are compare to his, the softness of it in contrast to the rough texture of his gloves. If he knew, if only he knew, he would have removed them before you had entertained the idea. Your steps were lithe and your turns were grace manifested, eyes closed yet a gentle smile equipped on your face, the ones you had been wearing ever since you started the performance. “So this is how you fight.” He mumbled with his own grin when he had spun you back against his form, your feet glides against the pavement yet barely touching it as you seemingly floated to place. If he hadn’t known better he would have thought you were an Anemo Vision wielder.

Soon enough the square dissipated to give way to the ferocious dance you two had eased into. Steps became more pointed, arms tensed and strong, and the turns was almost reminiscent of martial arts as you seemingly evade each other’s swings. Suddenly a kick aimed to hit his chest forced him to jump back, and at the other side you dropped your foot, a taunting smirk and a condescending gaze set upon him. His blue eyes widened.

And the elegance of the tango from earlier turned into a vicious round of capoeira, powerful kicks and jumps yet not made to touch each other. Your figure leaped into a crescent kick when he had made a sweep to hit your ankles, him immediately rolling to the side to evade the blow. Dropping to the ground with your ankles and knees bent, a leg outstretched you gasped, and went into a running start towards him, “Lift!” A single command yet he knew what he needed to do.

Gripping your hips upon your leap his strong arms easily eased you high up, your legs were kicked high up and one bent farther back and you steadied yourself by gripping on to his shoulders. The atmosphere turned tense and the only sound you can hear were the ragged breaths you heave up close. And the crowd around then explodes into a round of applause.

Childe seemed to have snapped out of a trance from the foreign noise, breaking the eye contact you both held as he slowly placed you down. There was a sudden bashfulness to him then. But was once again pulled away from his reverie when you quite literally pulled him out of the square into a dark alley, eyes glinting dangerously as a toothy smirk donned your lips, “I saw him, the redhead.”

...

The chains felt sentient. As it flies forward to try and capture him, Childe conjured a wave to sweep it away only for it to change angles to strike at him again. It pierced through the pavement he was once on before it moved to retract back to the owner. At the other side, Childe had a glimpse of your more successful fight with the fugitive as your polearm easily deflected the advances of the chains, even if it gets caught sometimes. Your Cryo Vision would always make quick work of freezing and breaking the chains.

None of you expected a non-elemental fight, and this seemed more complicated of a battle than you would have thought. The man carried with him the aura you feel when you use your delusion, you grimly thought as you ducked out of another barrage, sensing the frustration and desperation of the enemy. You were barely breaking a sweat, you’d see his red eyes take notice, and you weren’t even using both of your hands to fight. With another smirk, your Vision then glowed by your side as you raised your arm. The hooded man braced for impact, but instead he felt a force hit his lower half- water current from Childe, and suddenly it solidified to ice upon your avalanche. His hand where the strange device were also covered to render him useless.

An arrow and a spear’s tip was now aimed to his heart. “Well, well, that was a nice fight, Ragnvindr,” you leaned down close enough to see the finer details of his hawk mask, you saw his eyes squint into a glare. He knows he lost. By your side Childe relaxed his arms and dematerialized his bow, the next part should be yours to work on. “Thank you for your dedication, but this atrocity ends now.” You straightened your back and took a step back, angling your spear to his throat. As his eyes close to succumb to death, your head would angle itself slightly to see Childe’s reaction

when a golden flicker appeared past his shoulder.

“CHILDE!” The devil himself felt the air leave his lungs at the force that punched at his chest, enough to immobilize him as he was punted to the ground. Before he could even recover, the pavement around shifted and crumbled to create a wall between him and the frozen Diluc. He heard the ice breaking and two pairs of feet scrambling away. “Fuck, he had an accomplice,” he breathed as he took his stand, about to give chase to the escapees. That is until he registered his mentor-

barely standing with a stalagmite pierced through her stomach.

“Chi...lde.” You gripped the pointed tip of the structure to keep yourself up as your legs started to lose feeling. He was there hovering over you, unsure where to touch or how to assist. Fuck. Fuck. This was his fault. “Go... chase, I’ll be- I’ll be fine...”

And then you blacked out.

vii. seven correspondence

There were multiple parchment of the same color littering his office desk filled with different lengths of paragraphs. Childe's quarters in the palace was cozy and wide, and nothing could be heard but the sound of his fountain pen scratching the surface of the paper with ease.

"Letters are important in Snezhnaya," you perked up from your unfocused gaze from his window, where you silently watched the brewing blizzard manifesting outside. Your eyes made contact with his genuinely gentle ones that still lingered at the task at hand, "why not write one?"

"Letters are commonplace in Snezhnaya," you corrected as you made your way to his side to snoop in his letters. He did not seem to mind. After all you'd pretty much already the whole of his family that one awkward encounter. He was working on the seventh letter and your eyes lingered around the six finished ones: there was one for each younger siblings, one meant for the two older brothers, another for the older sister, and one for his parents. "It's not necessary for me to write, I don't have an address in mind to begin with."

Is that so, he mumbled under his breath before the conversation died down once again to little scratches. A lot of his words had tales to tell about his stay in Fontaine, you realized the most details were poured into the contents for his parents. At the mention of this nation, your hand ghosts over your stomach.

The bandages from long ago had already been dispatched. And yet the stiffness of it has still affected your composure as well as the weird pull of the skin from the stitches. Only a nasty scar was left in its wake to remind you of the failed encounter and it forced you to make drastic wardrobe changes to your performing attire.

You saw Childe's shoulders slightly tense at your action.

"Childe," his grip on the pen tightened yet he kept his head down. You didn't mind. His mind was going overdrive again, probably. "Who are you writing that last letter for?"

He felt like he'd dodged an arrow over the way he had relaxed, slumped down even when he met eyes with better resolution within it. "It's for a special someone," his signature smile was back, "I've met her long ago and I've always made sure to send her a letter yearly as thanks."

Thanks? "Thanks?" The letter (it was short, you realized) was already folded before you could peek at the words within. You knew Childe was good-looking, but for him to have a girlfriend waiting for years as he drowns in his work, quite irrational and yet painful. Painful... to you?

"I've met a girl back when I was 14," he was suddenly up and bustling as he bundled up his letters. Urgent you followed to listen to his tale as best as you can with his long legs. "I never knew her name or her face, but she saved me from the wolves back in Morepesok. I never properly gave her my thanks, so yearly I would leave letters at the woods where she'd gone, and hope that she'll be able to read them and know that I lived because of her." You already halted your advances to chase after him as you stood before the doors of the Palace. He didn't seem to mind, he kept going until he was gone.

...Morepesok was a seaside fishing village with a vast white forest by the edges in which ferocious wolves and bears usually haunt. After your promotion to the Palace, you had never once set foot in the village, much less the woodland. Where you are right now.

You held a steady hand against your stomach as you retraced the familiar route you'd gone, something so far away you would have expected to forget it by now. That was six years ago, you counted as you reached the clearing in horror of its emptiness, there should be six letters here by now.

A snapping twig had you whirling to look behind you. "So, it really was you." His gentle blue orbs had met your widened ones, breathless you both were, but for different reasons.

"So you lied about the letters," the mocking pout on your lips had made him laugh. A sprinkle of red dusts his cheeks, and he was quick to hide it with the familiar letter on his hand.

"I didn't lie about this one," your upturned palms received the crispy envelope, carefully opening the seal and unfolding its contents, "I wanted to make sure I was right."

'Your sacrifice had given me a new chance, a new life, a new beginning. I wish I was there to thank you for protecting me, but this time, I will get stronger and make sure-'

"I'll be the one protecting you from now on." He finished, and the red dust over your own cheeks felt like torches made to melt the mightiest icicles.

viii. fleeting glances

Signora had always been the type of person to only make appearances when necessary, but most of her dirty work were done by her subordinates, her own little army. She's the coordinator and observer at the back as things were weaved into place for her. Like a flower on the wall, the Fair Lady knows and notices details.

The first one was by the entrance, the second was by the veranda. The third, fourth and fifth were by the hallways. The sixth was by the throne room. The seventh was outside. And the eight was that in front of her—

Childe disliked being in the same area or even breathing space as her, this much Signora knew. He was a kid still under training over the ways of the Fatui, but there was nothing more he hated than the way the Fair Lady handles her work, her soldiers. But it came with the aesthetic, and he had no other means to pry until he had finally grasped the way the cogs turn in this organization known as the Fatui.

The youngest Harbinger never looked her directly in the eye or even dare spare her the glance when it was not needed. And in all honesty, it was quite bothersome the first few times. After all, Tartaglia carried with him a certain charm.

His eyes would either narrow or be guarded for any other Harbinger that comes his way, respectful or dismissive, the options fleet through those whenever. But there was one humane and warm look he gives at special occasions, for a special someone, and Signora finally witnessed it in full view and detail—

The crease between his eyebrows would immediately ease as his eyes break free from its squinted, slanted form. The dark depths at the middle would dilate as his expression quirks up, teeth usually visible through parted lips as he dons an easy smile. And Signora would be taken aback by the immediate change as she follows the trail of his stare.

The gold was the first to strike with the way the trinkets hang by the waist, and the warm and mellow colors so contrary to the Fatui colors draws away the unease of onlookers. It was to make sure that no association with the Fatui would be made, that was your calculated explanation was upon your choice of 'uniform.' You've just came from a short trip to Natlan to gather all data to be reported to the Tsaritsa, and during that time the 11th had been under no one's particular care.

You passed by their forms (pass is a strong word, they were off to the far side, honestly) with your report in hand, humming to yourself as you continued your way to the throne room. That demeanor only means that you had good news to tell, good news for everyone.

The glance was gone fast as the moment ended, and his hard look came albeit much lighter this time. But the way Signora smirked signified she'd noticed, and his look only grew stiffer.

"Come now, pretty boy, show that look often."

The Fair Lady's laugh echoed inside the Palace walls as Tartaglia stomps off to where you had gone, to wait after the dusk convention respectfully.

ix. years of employment

Of the many milestones that could have been celebrated, it was done in an odd number at the most peculiar time. Yes, it is no surprise for everyone to know that you had been working for the Fatui for nine whole years now. And honestly, you shouldn't have been surprised that your younger colleague with the weird ways of his Abyss-induced brains, decided that it was time your anniversary be celebrated instead of waiting another year for the double digits mark.

"Please tell me we're not going to your house again," you softly pleaded as Childe continued to guide you through the paths in the main city of Snezhnaya. "As much as I appreciate their caring atmosphere, I'm not too keen on the idea of pretending to be the head honcho of the toy-selling company of Snezhnaya."

To this, Childe guffawed to a boisterous laugh, pulling his hand away from your back to clutch at his convulsing stomach. You pursed your lips in distaste of his reaction, but then it would loosen up to a smile as you watched him still try to catch his breathe.

After that, the trip had continued with only small chatter in between as you descended further to the edges of the city. You haven't been to this area, simply because of the fact that there were no patrols needed around the cityless wasteland where you are headed, and the glint of surprise had fixed a knot at Childe's back. Relief painted his face.

And you found yourself in front of a frozen lake, with hanging lights decorating the leafless trees by it, and a small table filled to the brim with food. "Lady toyseller!" You shot a glare at your student who averted his gaze away easily to focus on his other siblings. This heretic lied—

"Big brother said it's a special occasion! To commemorate your anniversaries for being in the toyselling business!" Your glare died down to a look of confusion, and the family gathered back into a homely atmosphere. So it seems that Childe coincidentally joined the Fatui the same day as you, two years apart. And he said nothing about it.

"We've been celebrating since the last three years, if we had known, you could have been with us!" And with that you were pulled in by Tonia to the table where her mother was, congratulating you for your hardwork and patience as she offers you to taste some of the food they had brought for the picnic.

"I know you've been helping my son ever since he became a Harbinger," you looked up to Childe's mother in wonder as your mouth was currently stuffed with her delicious homemade Pelmeni. She gave a light laugh at the sight of your wide, curious eyes paired with stuffed cheeks. "Childe mentioned how you saved him when he ran away from him..." and the mother continued to spill the details you were never given the chance to hear from the man himself.

You suppose this was the cause of your perfectly crafted aura of trust, to lure in your targets and make them spill to their heart's contents as you indulge them. In the end, Childe's mother's true intention was to thank you for all that you had done for her son, and to help him cultivate into the best person he could be among the ranks of the Harbinger. You gulped the last bits of the dumpling, a shy smile placated on your cheek, "It is my honor to take him under my wing."

"Hey, master, I sure hope mum didn't say anything embarrassing about me while I was gone!" A hand holding a tissue softly wiped the cream at the edge of your lips as Childe- Ajax finally made his way over to your table.

"It's okay, really, it's normal for children to pee their bed." You mused as Childe's mother laughed at the way her son choked over his own spit. Ah, you were right.

The rest of the day was filled with ice-skating, something you have forgotten, clumsily held up by the three younger siblings as they expertly excelled in the field. And right after was a session of ice fishing with their father, who was greatly impressed by your strength upon reeling the 50-centimeter long tuna. Flopping on to the ice platform as if to chase the children on land.

"Don't want to stay? There's a spare room here, you can borrow my big sister's clothes for the night. It's a long way back to the Palace," he stood next to you outside the entrance of his home while you face the other direction.

You sighed. "Tartaglia, I'm your mentor. And as the 10th Harbinger, your ascension should be my priority." You didn't see the way his jaw clenched at the intonations of your words. "If it were a different circumstance-"

"Next week," the snow caught on to your lashes as you closed your eyes, basking at the cold that bites at your cheeks. "Will be my last try. And after that, please see me as your equal."

"Alright." Your hands trembled.

x. final spar

Fatuus lined the veranda surrounding the quadrangle in quiet anticipation, skirmishers and agents alike that had yet to be assigned under Harbinger supervision and even those who just had nothing better to do.

Childe had anticipated the spotlight, but it was a greater scale he was not comfortable on. He was lucky a Harbinger had yet to watch the spar, the last spar as he had promised, and it seemed the gossip had spread enough to alert the whole organization. The Delusion mask sat by the side of his hair as he watched you at the other end of the field.

Your eyes held no emotion as they stared through his soul. A different kind of emotion he'd have wanted to see. He thinks to himself at the thought of you once being in the same predicament as him, did you feel the same fear and worry as he did? Did it take you ten tries? Maybe more, maybe less?

Tartaglia said this will be the last spar, and the final chance for both sides to make it a fair fight (to give it their all). But when you suddenly disappeared and materialized above him with your spear ready to strike, he thought, maybe not this time either.

The spear collided with the dirt floor as blades of winds seem to have exploded from it, a series of gasps resounding through the crowd as they stepped away from the edge. Tartaglia softly landed back on his feet after the successful somersault, materializing his water polearm to strike his elemental slash from the distance. But you stood still, unscathed as the wave that was meant to slice you turned into ice before it could come any closer. Fuck, Tartaglia knew his Vision was weak to yours.

You charged at him once again with the boost of your Anemo delusion, your polearms clashing painfully as you both tried to get hits on each other. There was a nick at this cheek to draw the first blood, your dominant hand twirling the spear easily Tartaglia retreats back to avoid the wildly spinning blade.

Soon enough he dons his own mask and the real fight begins. Electric currents ran through the field as an icy fog starts to envelop the floor, superconduct reaction running the parameter of the field as the Fatuus back away further. The next time your blades meet, a crackle of lightning resounded through the whole palace. Smacking his blades upward, your spear quickly sweeps down to swipe at this ankles, forcing him to leap as the fog obscures the reach of your polearm. Mid-air, he was kicked on the chest as your acrobatic arms held you up and over.

Soon enough his hunger for victory begins to manifest, and his biggest advantage comes into play: overwhelming strength.

Tartaglia felt huge triumph when you finally used both of your hands to parry his blows, your feet sometimes sinking into the dirt floor under the pressure of his attack. For the first time in the fight, your facade cracked with a grimace as you held your polearm up against his dual blades. Quickly leaning away, you brought your foot up and pushed at the spear's shaft, enough to force him back as you leaped out of his range. There was sweat trickling at the back of your neck now, feeling the sizzle of the current on the slight moisture. You swiped your spear in a crescent motion as a snow avalanche bombarded Tartaglia's side when he tried to approach, giving you just enough time to breathe as he tries to free himself under the snow.

By the time he's set himself free, you were already running forwards with your hands gripping your spear at your right for a swiping motion. He fashions his dual blades as he too sprinted in the middle to clash, weapons encased with frost and electricity. In a split second, his arms raised to your left, knowing this was your non-dominant side would make it easy to send you flying at the angle of approach. A powerful blow against another was about to shake the whole Palace—

"Columbina!" The vagrant's voice pierced through the crackle of elements, and Tartaglia's eyes widened when he had noticed your foot slip at the distraction. The inertia of his arms unable to stop the course of action; superconduct and electro-charged reactions creating a powerful explosion as the iced fog seem to have imploded from the force.

Childe's moist hands trembled as his vision tries to refocus. There's a ringing in his ears as he tries to grip at his hands, the electricity coursing through his nerves to make it numb. He desperately closed and opened his fists, and when he finally settled his sights straight, the dripping red liquid had splattered all the way to his mask and arms. With hesitation his sights followed the trail of blood and frost splayed across the field barely visible as the mist still covered the floor with a thin veil, his steps halted at the sound of glass crunching underneath his shoes, and he didn't need to look to know what it was.

"GET THE MEDIC NOW, PREPARE THE INTENSIVE CARE UNIT!" Pedrelino's voice reverbed through the field as the few agents that finally recovered from the shock went into emergency actions, some running off and some running to the direction of where the blood trail ends.

There was an obvious pool of blood forming under you, as your whole torso was littered with the same redness. Your left ribcage was angled inwards in an anomalous way as the dual blades had logged itself in between the ribs. You were already unconscious as blood dripped from the side of your lips;

how unfortunate, Childe collapsed to his knees in front of you. You didn't get to congratulate him.

xi. eleventh of the fatui harbinger

His mission had been explained to him concisely and accurately alongside Signora's assignment right after he had been acknowledged as officially part of the Fatui. The throne room had itself full of the Harbingers (with a glaring absence of one) as the Tsaritsa empowered him with her will and concise plan, the gravity of the law and order of the universe and its incoming divine war finally weighing on his shoulders. It was, after all, his wish to end the ministrations of being under someone's supervision and finally walk his path of conquering.

A month after the fight had him standing by the piers of the Snezhnayan ocean. Here he will finally depart to Liyue where his true mission lays, as well as the franchise of the Northland Bank he'd have to oversee. The influx of information for both his and the other's works had his head reeling, pleading silently at the hope that you'd be there to reassure and clarify what exactly he needs to do.

But you're not. In fact, Childe hasn't seen you in the whole month after that fight. He was prohibited from approaching your ward as you were still unstable and fragile to risk; no, everyone was not allowed to enter, he assured himself. He had not seen nor heard you throughout the grieving process of a moment he should have been proud to boast.

During that time, Childe had also adamantly avoided Scaramouche.

He heaved a tired sigh as the consequences weighed his resolve once again, were you still unconscious? Are you still in critical condition or are you recovering? If things ended ever so differently, would you be there next to him to wave him off to his first major assignment? "Liyue, huh, that's a pretty nice nation."

Childe produced a strangled noise when he turned to his right, where you stood, watching the ocean horizon. Your hair was slightly disheveled yet framed your face naturally. There were bandages wrapped all over your torso, peeking out from the sleeves of your unusually covered attire, and your left arm settled on a sling meant to lessen the constraints of your side instead of sporting an actual broken limb. When Childe's calculating gaze settled on your face, you had a calm expression.

"Congratulations, you're finally on your way to your first mission."

"Thank you, although I heard it's quite different from what I'm used to. Besides seafood, too many new customs."

You produced a soft gasp as your eyes widened slightly. Childe stood guard, waiting for you to tell him what was wrong. "I'm a failure of a mentor," what. His eyes watched as you turned to face him (as he did) with an amused glint in your eyes paired by a light smirk. "I didn't get to teach you how to use chopsticks."

His face dropped into a deadpan, before you two harmonized into bouts of varying laughter. Your other hand placed itself on your chest to minimize the vibrations of your giggles, not wanting to put pain into yourself. A flash of hurt recognition passed through his eyes.

"Master, I'm so-"

"(Y/N)." You immediately interjected as you gazed at him past your eyelashes. His breath hitches.

"Ah, (Y/N)," you nodded at his experimental taste of your name and urged him to continue. He opens his mouth before closing it again, a silent debate within the depths of his brain, before his lips parted with a different thought. "Teach me when I come back, please?"

Your eyes widen in surprise and amusement, "I'm sure you'd pick it up easily."

You're not wrong, but he's adamant. "Nah, I'm sure I wouldn't, I heard they're really a handful. I'd rather wait for you."

Giggling again, you raised your mobile hand as he did own, exchanging the most genuine smile. "Okay, pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise."

I wrote this for two hours straight to the point that my left arm doesn't work anymore....

@moaa @kookieyachi @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @dandelion-dreams @snackgod @rxsalinee

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #childe x reader #genshin impact Childe #genshin impact oneshots #exile.flower #sojourner special #female reader #Harbinger #brrrrt

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yellowocaballero · 4 years ago

Text

Jon & Sasha Arson fic

Little fragment of an idea that never went anywhere. No reason for it. Just thought it would be funny. I was right. Rest under the cut.

Most people who were unlucky enough to meet Jonathan Sims assumed he had no friends.

This was true, up to a point two weeks after Jon became a researcher at the Magnus Institute: afterwards Jon had no friends, except for Sasha James.

Sasha James was attributable to arson.

Most people who were unlucky enough to meet Jonathan Sims assumed he had no friends.

This was true, up to a point two weeks after Jon became a researcher at the Magnus Institute: afterwards Jon had no friends, except for Sasha James.

*******

Sasha James was attributable to arson.

Arson was attributable to a bookshelf of Leitners, humming strange songs and spewing toxic energy into the air in rhythmic hissing motions. The Leitners were attributable to Artifact Storage, a testament to mankind’s hubris and a modern-day tower of Babel where a group of underpaid academics found themselves stress testing kevlar and fire suppression systems each day. Artifact Storage was attributable to the Magnus Institute, where Jon had managed to land a job after three months of desolate post-graduate unemployment. And the Magnus Institute was attributable to - well, probably Jonah Magnus, but Jon found that it was likely a bit of a reach to blame a long dead Regency gentleman for all of his problems.

Jon needed this job. London was expensive and so were funerals, and he couldn’t keep living on life insurance forever. It was even a good job, with decent pay and the exact kind of limp, half-hearted academia that the private sector promised disillusioned English mastery holders. His coworkers were nice - well, Tim was nice, everybody else seemed to hate him for the same reason that everybody else hated him, likely intimidated by how smart he was - and the commute was short. He couldn’t afford to lose this job. Spiritually, metaphysically, and literally.

Which was why he should stop staring at this piece of paper. The follow-up research to a statement given by some idiot unlucky enough to cross paths with what was certainly a Leitner.

‘ORIGINATION OF PHENOMENA ISOLATED’, the page read out professionally, yet chipperly, like a young woman in a new office job. ‘ITEM QUARANTINED WITHIN ARTIFACT STORAGE (46B.1)’.

Hm.

Jon pushed down on the floor, rolling himself a meter to the left.

“Say, er, Mr. Stoker.”

Tim “I’m only four years older than you, please call me Tim” Stoker, who had been thumping away on his cheap plastic keyboard either writing up a report or messaging someone on one of those infernal casual sex websites, pulled down his headphones and blinked at Jon owlishly, before splitting his face into a grin. Jon could practically hear the David Attenborough-style narration within his mind: ‘After long weeks leaving out food for the wild Simothan, the feral yet gentle animal approaches the researcher of his own volition. A win for scientists everywhere.’

“Yes, Jon?” Tim asked, in an uncanny yet hopefully unintentional RP drawl.

“What’s Artifact Storage?”

“God, I wish I was you,” Tim said feelingly. But he nodded sagely anyway, milking his ‘wise senpai’ thing for all it was worth. Jon could practically feel Tim calling himself a senpai. It was kind of embarrassing. “You know the shady room locked deep within the basement that exudes a terrible aura of malice and hatred towards you specifically?”

“The gender neutral bathroom?” Jon asked, confused.

“No, the one that always smells somewhat of blood. You hear screams sometimes?”

“The Archives!”

“Yes, but no! It’s Artifact Storage. If the researchers dig up any creepy shit from a statement, or if a statement giver brings in something that melts the metal detector, then we dump it in Artifact Storage and let those miserable fucks take care of it.”

“Is it more of a containment facility, or would you say that they conduct experiments?”

But Tim just shrugged. “My source down there tells me that they do some experiments to justify their budget, but it’s mostly unscientific. Poke this and I’ll give you twenty quid, that kind of thing. They say that if you really want a sick day, all you have to do is touch a mysterious rock and whisper your mother’s name -”

“Fantastic, thank you for your help, must go back to filling now,” Jon said quickly, skittering back to his own desk. He tried to distract himself from the terrifying thought of the basement full of supernatural nuclear bombs underneath his feet by trying to remember his mother’s name, but he was stuck on if it was Marjorie or Margaret. Mary Anne?

Maybe Tim’s personal Meerkat Manor series of Jon’s life had paid off - Sims Shack? - more than Jon would like, because Tim squinted at Jon in an unsettlingly familiar way. As if he knew exactly what Jon was thinking about the literature of mass destruction, and he really wanted Jon to be thinking literally anything else.

“I wouldn’t go down there if I were you, Jon,” Tim warned, sounding a little like a horror movie trailer. “Bushy tailed college grads who go down there don’t come out the same as they went in.”

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mr. Stoker.”

“For the love of christ call me Tim!”

It really was a pity - Jon had actually liked this job.

*******

It was remarkably easy to commit arson in central London.

Jon had done it once or twice. Three times, actually, although when you think about it arson was a criminal charge and only truly existed so long as someone was charged with it, so technically you could say that Jon had done arson zero times. In his defense, you try making it through Oxford without doing anything embarrassing. 90% of your time was in class or schoolwork and 10% of it was being hazed. At least Jon hadn’t fucked any pigs.

Jon hit up the usual stores, and stashed the usual implements in his rucksack. It was a careful week after his conversation with Tim, as he couldn’t afford for the older man to connect the dots. He made a show of going home at a timely five pm, startling everybody around him, and paced in a tight circle around his flat until he gave up and watched mindless telly until the clock struck midnight.

He took a cab to the park a few blocks down from the Institute, and walked the rest of the way. It was a cool, dim night in London, and the foot-traffic had slowed down to a steady trickle of young people in tight clothing. Jon pulled down his baseball cap on his head, fished a key out from his pocket given to him by a helpful and friendly janitor, and took a back entrance into the Institute.

Said helpful and friendly janitor, whose allegiance had been won because Jon was a “nice young lad” and “I always wanted to burn down the place myself, I’m happy to see the next generation give it a go” had helpfully told Jon that there were no security cameras inside the Institute. A grievous oversight, but good luck for Jon tonight. He took the stairs down to the basement, zipping his jacket up tight against the inescapable chill, and pushed his hat further down his head as he navigated his way towards Artifact Storage.

He unlocked the door with the janitor’s key, hands shaking, and slipped inside into the dusky and unlit room.

It was pitch-black, and Jon quickly fished a torch out of his backpack. He flipped it on, letting it slowly scan the room. It was the lobby into Artifact Storage, familiar from his stake-out missions: you walked in, met the bored woman behind the desk, checked in or checked out what you wanted, and if you needed to go inside she would press the button that unlocked the heavy climate-controlled door and let you into the hallway inside. The only other door in the lobby was to the office of the Director of Artifact Storage, a terrifying short and squat woman with silver hair pulled into a bun.

Jon leaned over the counter and jammed the button, holding his breath until he heard the door click open. He quickly twisted the handle, swung the heavy door out, and slipped inside, taking care to grab one of the chairs in the lobby and prop it open. Quick escapes were necessary.

He was in.

The torch lit up a map taped up to the wall, and Jon squinted at it. Section A, Section B, Section C...he remembered the classification from the document he read a week ago, and slowly walked down the hallway until he found the heavy climate controlled door marked ‘SECTION B’. He carefully wrenched it open, taking care to grab a rolling cart and using it to prop the door open, before stepping inside. He fished the canister of gasoline and the lighter out of his backpack, giving the gasoline a good shake.

It was a library. Small, and instead of shelves there were long metal racks with filing boxes stretching long into the darkness, but Jon knew a library when he saw one. Each box had a clipboard attached to it, and most boxes had very large and terrifying stickers on them painted sickly yellow or dangerous red.

The only thing in the library that wasn’t a filing rack was a battered and beat couch. And the only person in the room besides Jon was a woman, blinking up at Jon blearily from where she had been passed out on the couch.

“Er,” Jon said.

The woman sat up, squinting at Jon’s torchlight until he guiltily aimed it just to her left. She had a wild mane of curly brown hair, and was wearing a pencil skirt and ruffled burgundy blouse. A blazer was folded at one end of the couch, clearly being used as a pillow, and she looked strongly as if Jon had just woken her up from a very nice nap.

“Whuh,” the sleepy woman said.

“My mistake,” Jon said, “this isn’t the loo. Go back to bed, this is - er, a very bad dream, goodnight.”

“Whutuhiseet,” the woman slurred.

“It’s - very late, go back to bed.”

“Alright,” the woman said, falling back on the couch. After a second, her snores echoed through the room again.

Jon very slowly crept backwards. Actually, on second thought, his mission could wait for tomorrow. Bit of a cock block, this, but that was alright -

“Hey! Who are you!”

Jon, hand on the handle of the door, squeaked and turned around.

The woman was back up again, and this time she seemed actually awake. She was frowning mightily at Jon, and was already sliding off the couch in stocking feet to glare at him. Jon was aware that he did not look like an innocent person in these events. The gasoline did not help.

The woman’s eyes trailed to the gasoline, then widened. Jon ineffectually tried to hide it behind his back.

“You’re trying to burn down Artifact Storage!” the woman accused, somewhat fairly.

“Not all of Artifact Storage,” Jon said guiltily, “just the Leitners.”

The woman stared at him further, as if she was a special guest on Tim’s Sims Shack nature documentary.

“Why,” the woman said slowly, “would you want to do that?”

Despite himself, Jon found himself puffing up in indignation. “They’re evil, nasty little books that shouldn’t exist. Forget studying and - and containing them, we should be making sure no more of them ever disgrace the world again. We should be burning every one we see. They’re pure evil given literary form, they are a disgrace to books and libraries, and if I ever met Leitner myself I would beat him to death with a rusty pipe for subjecting me to his fucked up books.”

The woman stared at him.

Finally, she said, “I’m Sasha James. Want some help?”

“I - er, wouldn’t that get you in trouble, Ms. James?”

“I like this job but I hate Leitner and his fucked up books more,” Sasha said gravely.

Jon, having found a kindred spirit, held out the lighter.

Sasha James took it, a wide grin splitting her face.

*********

Jon didn’t remember much else of that night.

There was definitely arson involved - or, seeing as they hadn’t gotten caught, just some good old-fashioned fire starting. He had the sense that they had both been so giddy with adrenaline that they had immediately joined the raging uni students in the late night bars, toasting their success in toasting. There had probably been quite a bit of alcohol.

When he woke up the next morning, it was in his narrow and uncomfortable bed, face to face with an unfamiliar snoring woman. For a second, two, Jon was briefly convinced that he had done something so drastically out of character it meant that a fucked up book had body swapped him with Tim. Bodyswapping was more likely than him having casual sex.

Then Jon remembered the arson, and he exhaled in relief as his life made sense again.

“Ms. James,” Jon whispered, poking her in the arm. She snuffled and muttered something. Jon poked her harder. “Ms. James, we have work.”

Sasha turned around, turning her back to him and pulling up the blankets. “Go back to bed, Tim.”

Ti - oh god. Jon felt like he was in a CW drama. This was why he didn’t interact with people, far too much likelihood that he would accidentally end up interacting with somebody who had sex.

“Ms. James,” Jon hissed, extremely embarrassed, “you have to get up!”

“Mergh mergh fuck off,” Sasha James said.

Jon, like a true gentleman and hero, got up and made them both strong tea. He squinted at Sasha, recalling everything he knew about her (slept a lot, liked arson, hated Jurgen Leitner) before digging out some instant coffee and making some of that too. Finally, after shoving a hot cup of sludgey black liquid at the woman, she grabbed the cup and chugged it until she was able to sit up and open her eyes.

She blinked at Jon, who was already picking his hair in an attempt to get ready for work. He could clearly see the thoughts ‘you aren’t Tim’ run through her brain. Hah! He could be the narrator of the nature documentary for once!

“Uh,” Sasha James said, “I’m sorry, did we…?”

“Commit arson? Yes.” Jon paused a beat. “But as I don’t believe we were caught, call it an indoor campfire.”

Sasha James drank more of her coffee. Jon grabbed his clothing and disappeared into the loo to get changed.

When he re-entered his bedroom, she snapped her fingers at him. “Right! We got pissed after! Good times, mate!”

“I have to assume,” Jon said politely. He was doing his very best to be very polite, because Jon knew he was rude and didn’t want his new coworkers to know that until his probation period was over. Maybe he should have waited until after his probation period for the arson? Would it look bad on his annual review? “Do you need to borrow some clothing? I think we’re about the same size.” Oh, no, was that rude to say to a woman?

Sasha James squinted at him. “It’s like you’re not hungover at all. How old are you?”

“Twenty five?” Be polite, Jon! “And you’re...thirty seven?”

“I’m thirty one, asshole!”

Oh no. Women hated it when you called them old. “You don’t look a day over twenty seven!” Jon cried, panicked.

“Have you met a woman?”

“I had a grandmother?”

“I’m going back to bed,” Sasha James said.

Unfortunately, Jon knew that it would be very suspicious if they both skipped, so he forced Sasha into one of his suits that...looked much nicer on her than him, but whatever, and hustled them both to work. Now that the adrenaline had worn away and the sense of purpose in his holy mission had burned up with the cleansing flames, Jon found himself biting his nails in agony in the Underground.

They had to know. Someone must have caught them. Maybe there were secret CCTVs in the Institute. Maybe Sasha was going to rat him out - but she had helped, so wouldn’t she just be ratting out herself? Was she a double agent? Mr. Bouchard was never going to forgive him, no matter how nice he was and how much he seemed to like Jon to the point where he rather wished someone had given him the ‘Stranger Danger’ speech as a child so he would know what to do. Jon was going to go to jail, or worse - get fired.

Sasha, cooly sipping her coffee and looking somewhat fly in sunglasses and his suit, did not seem disturbed by any of this. Jon’s rapidly spiralling panic attack must have been obvious, because she casually flicked a finger on his forehead. Jon yelped with pain.

“Take it easy, mate. If they catch us, I’ll just say that the books made us do it.”

Jon scowled at her, rubbing his smarting forehead. “The books?”

“Sure.” She waved her fingers spookily as the Underground rattled forward into the heart of London. “Brainwashed us to do their evil bidding of -”

“Destroying them?”

“There’s a lot of arson Leitners,” Sasha James said sagely. “Trust me, this is just a normal day in Artifact Storage.” She clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder, and Jon fought a blush. “Don’t worry. We performed a public service, kiddo. St. Peter’s gonna give us a medal when we get to the pearly gates.”

“I’m an adult,” Jon said, scandalized. He had gray hair!

“Well, I guess, but I don’t know your name, so…”

Jon squinted at her. She squinted at him back.

“You’re thinking that if you don’t give me your name I can’t rat you out to the feds,” Sasha said flatly.

Jon pursed his lips.

Finally, he settled on, “You don’t rat me out to the feds and I won’t tell them that you’re in an illicit relationship with Mr. Stoker.”

“Mr. - how did - what!”

“It’s Jonathan Sims,” Jon said gruffly, crossing his arms. He was slightly hungover and his nerve were jittery and he had set fire to his workplace the previous night, but somehow Jon thought that his heart was jackrabbiting in his chest for a different reason. Somehow Jon felt as if his heart couldn’t stop thumping behind his sternum because Sasha James was staring at him, head cocked, as if he was a mystery she was interested in finding out. “That’s my name.”

Sasha James stared at him, as if surprised, before her face broke into a wide and happy smile. Jon hunched his shoulders up, embarrassed, faintly aware he was blushing. “It’s nice to meet you, Jonathan!” Then she grabbed him by the collar, shaking him slightly. “And there is nothing illicit about me and Tim, and there is nothing between me and Tim at all, we are just friends, so get that out of your little head -”

The train rattled on towards the Magnus Institute, and towards the slight smell of smoke in the air.

*******

Sasha: are you coming 2 the pub w/us 2nite?

Sasha: come onnn you should comeee don’t feel awkwardddd

Sasha: I know you hate a) group settings b) drunk people c) Tim in a group d) drunk Tim and e) Tim drunk in a group but that’s no reason not to come!

Sasha: Tim is physiologically incapable of not adopting men 3-5 years younger than him it’s in his blood you can’t escape his affection

Sasha: or at least I find it funny so I’m not letting you

Sasha: Jonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

Jon: Yes I’ll come, I need to talk to both of you.

Sasha: WAHOO

Sasha: wait

Sasha: really?

Sasha: did you commit ars*on again

Sasha: wait if you did don’t tell me the courts can request text transcripts

Jon: No, I just need your advice on an urgent matter.

Sasha: do you need to be drunk to do it

Jon: ...maybe.

Jon: ....Mr. Bouchard offered me the Head Archivist Job?

Jon: Which is stupid because I’ve worked here for barely four years and you’ve worked here for about ten years I think. And you’ve published five papers in parapsychological research. I know I helped you figure out that this place is a weird trauma mill but it was really mostly you. It’s completely ridiculous to promote me and I’m afraid it’s favoritism. For potentially heinous ends? This feels awful because it’s such an honor but I would never stop feeling stressed and guilty because I know so many more people (like you) are so much more qualified. Or qualified at all.

Sasha: holy shit

Sasha: ...do you remember the speech I gave you on stranger danger?

Jon: I’m afraid to mention this to Tim because he might beat up Mr. Bouchard for both my honor and yours.

Sasha: Jesus at this point I don’t even want a fucking job anymore. What bullshit. I’m never going to get promoted and I just need to accept that. This isn’t your fault, Jon, seriously, thank you for telling me.

Sasha: we can talk about this at the pub

Sasha: in private. Off the radar.

Jon: Looking forward to it :)

Jon: did I use the emoticon right?

Sasha: Yes, Jon, you did everything right.

#tma #jonathan sims #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfic #sasha james-centric #this is an implied fix-it everybody lives fic #crack #comedy #absolutely nothing sad? in a MEG FIC?#sasha james #tim stoker #jon is based off me at a new job anxiously calling everyone 'mr'#rest assured sasha is trans but it just never came up #my writing

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Note

Nie Mingjue and Wen Ning as conscious fierce corpse buddies

ao3 link

By everyone’s agreement (except his own), Wen Ning was the sect leader.

Of course, practically speaking, Nie Mingjue actually ran everything; he was the one with the experience in it, after all, and he claimed he was no good at teaching, which was the other thing they generally did.

This was, of course, a blatant lie – the few times he did agree to take on some classes, they were by far the most popular – but Wen Ning had yet to figure out how to get Nie Mingjue to do anything he didn’t want to do, and anyway he really was very good at all the work that went into being sect leader, so it all worked out quite well for everybody in the end.

How they ended up with a sect in the first place, Wen Ning will never know.

The school had been Song Lan’s idea, though; that much was certain. Or, well, Wen Ning supposed it was actually Xiao Xingchen’s idea to start with, or possibly both of them, but Song Lan had been the one to make it an operational proposal and anyway Xiao Xingcheng had been a scattered soul at the time so Wen Ning felt pretty comfortable ascribing the idea to Song Lan.

Xiao Xingchen’s back now.

So was Xue Yang, but that was unfortunately unavoidable – their souls had become so intertwined by the time they’d both died that there was really no bringing one back without the other, much to Song Lan’s annoyance. Out of lack of better options, Xue Yang was currently being kept very firmly under control, even lock and key if it seemed appropriate - he didn’t object as long as it was Xiao Xingchen applying the locks - and they hadn’t entirely decided if he was going to need to be executed for the good of society at some point.

Still, at least for the time being, he was being useful. No one could say that Xue Yang wasn’t a genius when it came to inventing new things, even if he wasn’t as good as Wei Wuxian, and their school was as much about research as it was teaching.

After all, demonic cultivation was pretty new. There was a lot out there to discover.

A lot out there to teach.

It wasn’t like not having anyone around to teach them stopped there from being demonic cultivators in the first decade or so after Wei Wuxian’s death, especially given how easily it could be picked up. Unfortunately, most of them weren’t very good at it, and there were pitfalls for any cultivation path, much less such a dangerous one, reviled by the whole world.

Song Lan, who’d picked up the basics during the time that he’d been controlled by Xue Yang, had argued that it was cruel to allow people to pick it up out of desperation and to charge ahead with no guidance – that without a firm hand to show them the way, most people would end up getting corrupted, or just mess something up and end up in a qi deviation.

(Nie Mingjue was understandably a bit sensitive about those, so that was the argument that had worked on him. Wen Ning, for his part, was a little bit bitter about everyone, and hadn’t much cared what happened ot them, but on the other hand what else did he have to do?)

So they’d started the school.

Only about a quarter of their disciples so far were there willingly – most of the others were dropped off by Jiang Cheng, who had some trouble dropping his habits of finding them wherever they were, and everyone agreed that their school was a better place for them than his dungeons – but the number was steadily growing as their reputation got out there.

Their reputation as teachers, that is. Everyone knew about the other thing.

The whole…fierce corpses thing.

Hard to avoid everyone knowing, what with Wen Ning, the Ghost General, being the sect leader.

Obviously in a perfect universe, Wei Wuxian would be the one in charge – of the school, of the sect they formed to support the school, of the whole demonic cultivation path that he invented – but he was busy in Gusu doing…something.

Mostly his husband.

At least he came by to visit on a regular basis?

Though actually now that Wen Ning thought about it, he didn’t actually like the times when Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang would get drunk together and came up with new ideas – it’d been Nie Mingjue who’d figured out how to restore a sense of taste to a fierce corpse, though he refused to divulge where he got the idea or how he’d come up with it but no one really cared to pry too much because it worked – because the ideas were invariably fascinating, innovative, and uniformly awful.

Also, Wei Wuxian visiting usually meant that Wen Ning needed to sit with Lan Wangji all night to make sure he didn’t accidentally liberate any of their staff, usually in the guise of keeping him company, and he knew the man didn’t like him. He always had a look of a man sucking a lemon whenever he visited.

…maybe that was just the name of their sect that he object to.

In their defense, neither Wen Ning, Nie Mingjue, nor Song Lan were especially creative people, Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang hadn’t yet been revived, little A-Qing hadn’t yet been reincarnated nor revived her memories – they’d just picked the most straightforward name they could think of.

And, well, they were all gui. What was wrong with calling it the Gui Sect?

Sometimes Wen Ning thought that Lan Wangji was unnecessarily judgy.

“What are you brooding about?” a voice interrupted his thoughts, and Wen Ning looked up with a smile.

“Sect business,” he lied, and Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes at him, clearly not believing him for a moment.

“What about sect business? The trade disputes?”

Wen Ning frowned. “We have trade disputes?!” He hadn’t even heard about – oh, no, Nie Mingjue was laughing. “We don’t have trade disputes.”

“We’re supported by all four of the Great Sects, between Wei Wuxian at Gusu, Jin Ling at Lanling, Jiang Cheng – as a favor to the former two – in Yunmeng, and last but not least my brother. Who’s going to start a trade dispute with us?”

That was comforting. Sort of comforting?

“Are we bullying people with our resources?” he asked, worrying his lower lip with his teeth.

“Of course we are,” Nie Mingjue said, sounding satisfied. Ugh, sect leaders. Somehow – with some admittedly fairly major variations in style – they were all the same, always looking for an advantage for their sects.

Wait, he’s a sect leader now. Does that mean he’s like that?

No, he’s a terrible sect leader, which means he’s exempt. A bit like Nie Huaisang had been all those years, as the Head-shaker…on second thought, that was part of a giant plot that had in fact ended with the Nie sect ascendant above all the others – the Jin sect in tatters, the Jiang sect isolated as always, the Lan sect putting all their attention on having to corral Wei Wuxian – so maybe it wasn’t the best comparison.

Ugh. Why is this Wen Ning’s life?

“Stop thinking about running away to be a rogue cultivator again, it’s much too late for that,” Nie Mingjue advised him, not unkindly. Wen Ning hadn’t even said anything. “Besides, you like teaching juniors. Even delinquent juniors.”

“They’re mostly not delinquents anymore,” Wen Ning objected. It was really amazing how being forced to attend a class taught by Xue Yang was enough to drive most young people far away from the mere idea of being a delinquent again lest they risk turning into him – and to help identify the remaining ones that needed to be kept under very close supervision. “Speaking of teaching, when are you taking another class? Your training sessions with Baxia don’t count.”

“From the number of people watching, they should.”

“It still doesn’t count,” Wen Ning said firmly, even if it really probably should – watching Nie Mingjue, a fierce corpse, working seamlessly with a spiritual weapon specifically designed to eradicate fierce corpses was truly a fascinating sight.

Of course, most people were more fascinated by the fact that Nie Mingjue usually did his training shirtless – including Wei Wuxian, irritatingly enough, though interestingly Lan Wangji, who was usually the first one at the vinegar jar, didn’t seem to object – but nothing much could be done about that.

(Fierce corpses did not need to worry about the heat, or sweat, or any of the usual motivations for going shirtless, but Nie Mingjue claimed it was a psychological need based on years of habit-building. For anyone else, Wen Ning would think that they were vain and secretly enjoying the attention, but with Nie Mingjue…it probably really was just habit.)

“Fine,” Nie Mingjue said. “Give me one of the basic seminars; I’ll do that. Not one of the musical ones.”

Wen Ning had learned by now that there was no point in smothering smiles – after all, he was a sect leader, and no one had the right to criticize or yell at him for smiling too much or for taking too much attention to himself.

Take that, Wen Chao.

“No,” he said. “I haven’t forgotten that you’re nearly tone-deaf.”

“At least one of you hasn’t.”

“Xiao Xingchen means well,” Wen Ning said, even though honestly by this point it was pretty clear he was just forcing Nie Mingjue to try out new and increasingly exotic instruments for his own (and everyone else’s) amusement. “It’s a little funny.”

Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes again, looking long-suffering, but he had a pretty good sense of humor about these things.

Also, if he was ever actually upset about something, Nie Huaisang would have fixed it.

No one would have enjoyed Nie Huaisang fixing things, but he would still have fixed it. He always fixed things that affected his brother.

(Example number one: Jin Guangyao, his eventual demise, and everything that happened after that.)

“I actually came here to give you news,” Nie Mingjue said. “Would you like to hear it?”

Wen Ning had politely requested – a little desperately – that Nie Mingjue check first. The other man had a way of just saying things without any consideration for the anxiety of the person he was talking to, with things like “we’ve misplaced a student” or “don’t worry it wasn’t a student we actually liked” or “Xue Yang is on the loose and he’s summoned something again” or, one memorable instance, “Baxia decided to summon a dozen of her close friends and family and they may or may not be attacking the staff rooms, but honestly she’s having so much fun that I don’t really feel like stopping her, thought you should know.”

Wen Ning took a deep breath that he didn’t need, firmed up his emotional resiliency, braced himself, and said, “Yes.”

“A-Qing thinks she found your sister’s reincarnation,” Nie Mingjue said, and the air shot out of Wen Ning’s lungs as if he’d been punched. “You know that she’s been sensitive to these things ever since her rebirth, we did some investigating, and we’re pretty sure. How would you like us to handle it?”

Wen Ning scrubbed his face. “I – have no idea. I thought her spirit was still haunting the place where her ashes were?”

“Just one of her souls, and the new body is one short. They’ll have to be reunited eventually or else she’ll suffer the physical effects of missing a soul, but there’s a way to do it that maximizes the chances of her recovering her memory from her previous life and a way to do it to minimize it.”

Wen Ning put his head down on his desk. “I…I don’t know. Our life was pretty awful, so maybe she’d be better off not remembering? But I also want my jiejie back…I hate decisions. Why did I become a sect leader again?”

“We told you that you didn’t have a choice and you lacked the spine to resist.”

“…thanks.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “Sometimes I really do wonder what you did in a previous life to deserve this one.”

Ouch. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Nie Mingjue said. “Come out and spar with me, it’ll help you think it over.”

“I don’t have time to think about anything else while we spar, though…?”

“Exactly.”

“…do I get a choice about this?”

“No. Get a move on.”

Wen Ning let himself be dragged over to the training fields. “You do remember I’m sect leader, right?”

“So is my brother,” Nie Mingjue pointed out and – fair.

“Your brother is one of the most terrifying people in the cultivation world.”

“And he still lets me boss him around. What’s your point?”

…fair.

“No point,” Wen Ning said, and waved to some of their more promising students, who immediately perked up at the thought of getting to watch them spar. “No point at all.”

In the end, he thought, his life hadn’t turned out that badly after all.

#mdzs #wen ning #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #Anonymous

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dancingthesambaa · 4 years ago

Text

The Smell Of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 5

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black-furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 5: By Your Side

“Next is the bag of chips, why he likes pizza flavor I will never know,” Mac muttered as he pushed his cart through the aisles.

The two teenagers in his care, at this point Mei might as well be one of his, had opted out of the grocery trip and decided to do their own thing on the other side of town. Still well perfectly within hearing distance, but he smartly decided not to eavesdrop on their conversations, he would rather not have two very creative, and vengeful, kids out to get him.

After he had grabbed the bag of chips and placed it in with all the many, many items in the cart, some of them were not even for him and the two kids as his friends tend to make themselves at home at times. He feels like he should be charging his friends for the amount of stuff he gets for them no matter how rich he may be.

‘Who even needs this many ghost peppers, 3 bundles of apples, a bag of soft sponges, industrial nail filer, and a goddamn indestructible chew ball,’ he internally ranted in his head as he went through another aisle, ‘What am I, their parent?’ They have their own damn jobs!’ He then looked through some of their teas available and his nose scrunched up as he picked up a box of passion fruit tea. “Who the fuck even likes passion fruit tea? That shit is way too sweet,” he grumbled to himself.

“Well store bought ones usually don’t have that same ‘Oomph’ as homemade ones,” a deep voice said.

“You’re telling me,” Mac agreed as he side glance at the man who was reaching for one of the teas on the top shelf as he couldn’t contain his eye twitch. ‘Okay, been in this city for gods knows how long, and in the span of less than a year I managed to find ones that are descendants or reincarnation of most of the fucking crew. What the actual fuck is this sort of luck?! I know that there are historians willing to sell their soul for even a trace of this, so what kind of fucked up luck am I getting that I just stumbled upon them.’

“Hm,” he, the overgrown beast of a demon that shared too much resemblance to Sha Wujing, titled his head to him. “Is there something the matter?” His eyes widen as he tries to look over his body and pants, “Do I have cat hair on me?! I thought I managed to clean the last of it off before I left.”

“No, no,” he waved him off, “just thought you looked familiar, that’s all.”

“Oh well in that case,” the large man shifted his basket to his other hand and stuck out his right, “my name is Sandy, it’s nice to meet a fellow tea lover.”

Macaque stared at the hand for a bit before giving a small smirk and shaking it, “Name Macaque and right back at ya big lug.”

“Personally I like the Biluochun Tea,” Sandy said as he plucked up a box of Chamomile, “but unfortunately they have yet to fully bloom in my garden so I am making do with a substitute,” he joked.

“Then how about Kuding?” Mac recommended.

“I may like the taste of bitter, but I don’t want that to be my only taste,” he admitted.

“Well I think it’s pretty good.”

“Let me take a wild guess and say that you don’t like sweet things.”

“I only tolerate for my kiddos,” he mumbled as he put the box of Junshan Yinzhen Tea, he already had a batch of Kuding growing out in the garden, so there is little point in grabbing a weak ass store brand tea that held not even the same resemblance to how it truly tastes. He tried a box out of sheer curiosity and immediately chuck that so far away, that thing that called itself Kuding tea is a disgrace to the true masterpiece.

“You have kids,” the demon piped up as he walked alongside the monkey.

“Technically one, but with the number of times she stays over, I might as well claim that hellion,” he grumbled as the two goes out of the aisle and towards the meat.

“Awww, that’s sweet,” he put his hand to his very muscular chest, “the only little ones I have are my adorable cats,” he then proudly showed off his wallet which had an assortment of different kinds of cats.

“Cute,” he admitted as he took in the collection of cats, “was this an all at once thing or more of a gradual.”

“Oh some were gradual, others were in groups, and some was just picked up,” he said as he put up his wallet, “Like one day I come home and find Mimi, one of my older ones, carrying the most adorable blue kitten,” he began to tell his tale of Mo as the two continued their shopping together.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” Pigsy yelled out as he served a tray full of steaming hot noodles to his other customers.

“Man, this place is packed today,” Mac said as he took the only seat on the counter, which was by the entrance. The place was brimming with customers, either loitering outside waiting for their order or just chatting amicably inside.

“Yeah, lunch hour kicks my as-butt each time,” he had to suppress a groan and put on a customer service grin as he watched another group stroll in. “Be with you in a minute!”

“I thought you had some staff? I know the last time we came in, we saw a driver leaving with the food,” he asked as he straightened out his lavender dress covered with floral print.

“Well,” Pigsy said after he finished taking orders and began making the food, “I had to fire that lazy bum after he called off so many times, a few I get, but how does 4 out of the five days you work help?! And you still expect me to pay you for a full two weeks of service?” He grumbled harshly as he then took a few of the clean bowls out.

“Yikes,” Mac grimaced, “…want some help?”

The owner paused and sharply looked towards the monkey, “you offering?”

“Yeah, don’t really have anything better to do, besides,” he showed off two more clones, which barely made people bat an eye as they were too engrossed in their meals and phones, “I am basically a one man army.”

Pigsy looked so wistfully at that power and quickly asked, “are you any good at customer service?”

“I volunteer at a theater,” he raised an eyebrow.

“You're hired,” the shorter demon threw an apron at him, “you’ll get paid by the end of the day.”

“Instead of that, how bout next time I drop by, food is on the house?” He bargained as he put on the apron.

“Deal,” he instantly agreed and he could feel a wave of relief wash over him as he now could focus on cooking instead of everything at once. “Next time why don’t you talk to Tang about how free meals work, maybe then his lazy butt can finally start paying me.”

“Why don’t you just not give him free food?” Macaque smirked as he saw a faint blush on the pig’s face.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

The monkey said nothing more as he put the apron on, turned to the group of people that was just seated, took out a notepad, and gave his most theatrical smile “Welcome to Pigsy Noodles, what can I get started for you?”

“So anyway, I have been looking through some of the books that I saw in an antique store, and let me tell you that I scored the motherload!” Tang excitedly said as he talked beside the lake. “Guess what I happened to find.”

“What?” The creature prompted him as he casually floated in the water.

“You have money? You actually have a job,” the other being questioned, “and you still let Pigsy pay for your food?”

“It’s a journal that tells the tale of someone who got trapped in the spiritual world after a failed ritual!” He exclaimed as he steadfastly ignored the previous question.

“Pffftt,” he sputtered out a laugh.

“I don’t know about you but isn’t it usually a bad thing when someone gets trapped somewhere,” Macaque drawled out as he chewed on a plum as he stretched out on the grass with a baby monkey clinging onto him. Ní, who decided to chill in her rabbit form for some reason, also nodded as she laid down on the sunlight grass. “Also, you haven’t answered my question.”

“Well she obviously is alright since she wrote this book and all,” the historian tried to defend himself as he still didn’t answer.

“Surrree.”

“It’s true, you agree with me right Shu,” he turned to the water demon.

“Absolutely,” the Shui Gui cheekily said.

Tang shot a smirk at him.

“He agrees with anything he finds funny,” he rolled his eyes.

“Well anyway,” he took out the book and showed it to them, “this book illustrates how Chi-Chi journey through the treacherous parts of the realm, tricked many dangerous beings, gazed upon the beauty of the uncharted, and met so many spirits and immortals along the way!”

“Is that so,” Mac hummed.

“I would give an arm and a leg to meet an immortal or even a spirit,” he said unblinkingly then he went back to his fanboy mode, “I would have so many questions to ask them!”

The 2 immortal beings shared a look at each other as the monkey then put a hand over the spirit’s mouth to stop him from saying anything.

“Don’t you even think about it Kappa,” he warned him.

The drowned spirit just gave him a cheeky grin as he raised his webbed hands in the air.

“I swear,” Macaque grumbled as he put down his hand, “how the hell did the two of you even become friends?”

“He fed me some beef jerky,” he happily explained, “and that was the start of a beautiful friendship.”

“And he never once comments on why you always hang around the lake and not anywhere else?” He incredulously said.

“Nope!”

“Adrenaline junkie I swear.”

“You say something?” Tang called out as he paused his fanboy mode.

“Just talking about your obvious crush on Pigsy,” Mac facepalmed when the spirit just had to say that of all things.

“It’s not a crush!” Tang marched up to him with his ears redder than an apple, “Can’t someone just appreciate another person's attractive qualities?”

“Yes, yes you can,” he agreed.

“Good,” the fanatic crossed his arms, “then you can safely assume that-.”

“Butttt you have a fancy for the pig,” the spirit ended.

“NO I DO NOT!”

“The sheer irony is actually ridiculous,” Mac said to himself as he slowly petted the infant.

“Ooo oo,” the baby macaque cooed.

“No, you cannot eat my tail.”

“You know, I’m getting real tired of those idiots' constant fighting,” Macaque grumbled as he petted a very fat and very fluffy cat.

“Tell me about it,” Sandy nodded his head as he drank some tea. “They have been at it for almost the second they met each other.”

“I swear I am so close to just shoving them both in a closet alone and letting them deal with it.”

“Yeahhh, that might not work so well,” Sandy drawled out as he set down his cup.

“Why? Cause it won’t be right,” he mocked.

“Well there’s that, but also there’s the fact that it would absolutely do nothing at all and just lead to them bickering more,” he pointed out.

“You, unfortunately, have a point,” he slumped back as another cat crawled on top of him.

“Also, I may have already tried that.”

“Wait? Really?” He sat back up and looked at the blue demon’s sheepish expression.

“Let me just tell you that seeing it on t.v does not really work the same way as real life,” he still remembered how they were both mad at him for locking them in a room together.

“Tell me about it,�� Mac already knows the pain as both MK and Mei went through this phase as they tried to do the most ridiculous stunts or experiment with dangerous chemicals. Luckily he managed to stop or save them in time, but there were a few times where he was preoccupied or just missed it. Let it be known that they both learned their lesson after breaking bones and a fierce rash all over their arms. He still doesn't know what they were trying to prove with the lacquer tree. “Oh yeah, how did it go with flicker the other day? Didn’t give you too much trouble?”

“Oh nothing I couldn’t handle,” Sandy smiled at the mention of his newest client, “Can’t tell you much cause of confidentiality and whatnot, but he is open to another session.”

The monkey nodded, “that’s good, Gods know he needs it, now if Raki was more amenable to the idea, but she is the most prideful person I know and that is including her husband.”

The blue demon winced, “yeahhh I can see how that might be a bit difficult.”

“You're telling me.”

“Focus,” Macaque yelled out as he nimbly dodged a flying kick, “remember that when you strike, you make sure that strike will be your last.”

Mei didn’t say a word as she growled at her missed shot and jumped towards him then fainted for an upward cut then quickly proceeded to go into a low roll as MK came up from behind with a high kick.

“Good plan you two,” he praised as he simply jumped above MK’s head and said, “but try going for a grapple next time, it would have been more effective to topple me over rather than try to catch me off guard in the air.”

MK flipped backward and attempted to grab onto his tail, which he quickly realized was a mistake as he felt the tail wrap around his arm and flung him to Mei, who was charging at him.

“If I was an unskilled fighter then that would have been quite an effective weakness to exploit, but it’s too bad I’m not,” he mocked the two as he caught Mei sword with one hand and MK escrima stick with the other and casually tossed them back to the edges of the tree line.

“Oh come on!/We almost had him!” Both teens yelled out as they simultaneously punched a tree in frustration, which left a handprint etched into the wood when they took it out.

Only Macaque noticed this as both of the kids elected to split off from each other and try to attack him from both sides. “Guess they have adapted quite well to my energy,” he mused as he watched them run towards him, “Probably should tell them to take it easy else they’ll break their bones, again.” He then easily began to dodge from both of their attacks as they gave it their all to finally hit the damn monkey.

And this how it continued, with both seventeen year olds working together to finally land a hit on the speedy monkey, only for it to fail every time.

“You're getting better,” he said as he looked down on the two exhausted teenagers trying to catch their breath.

“One day,” Mei took a long deep breath before continuing, “one day, I don’t know when, but one day I will punch that damn smug off your face.”

“Ditto,” MK raised his hand in the air then dropped it then pushed his loose hair out of his eyes.

Mei saw this and gave a faint snort, “you know I can help with your hair-”

“I’m not putting pigtails in my head again,” he deadpanned.

“Come on, I can even get fluffy to join.”

“How about no,” he bluntly said as handed them two cold water bottles, “take a breather breezy, starlight. We can resume in a few minutes.”

“Okayy,” they moaned out.

“Awww, but I bet you would look cute in pigtails,” they all turned to see Minsheng hop in with a few others as well, “I know there will be a lot of demons just willing to pay for a pic, just think of the money.”

“Remember the glitter,” Macaque growled out.

“The bunny paused and crossed their arms as their friends laughed behind him, “ Well I’m just saying.”

“It took them ages to get all that out,” Daiyu stated, it didn’t even come off until a full month has gone by, and yet they still found small patches in their fur.

“Almost killed him when he tried to hug me with that on him,” Bohai huffed as he glowed a bit at the horrible image of him even having a speck of that abomination on him.

“They looked like my gremlin’s arts and crafts masterpiece when they were five,” Yanyu chortled.

“It was indeed horrible,” Ahmed lowly chuckled out as he slowly trailed behind them all, then all demons, and adult human, in the vicinity paused.

“Oh right this,” the bluenette human almost hit herself at how quickly she forgot, “we did come here for a reason.”

“Voices gettin to ya,” the long-furred monkey easily asked the lion demon.

“They have been a bit annoying,” he gave a weak chuckle.

“I feel ya,” he turned to his kids, “go towards the tree line with the rest of them, it seems that class will have to be cut short.”

“Okay?” Both were very confused, but obliged by the demon words as they walked over to the group, only to be pulled back by Bohai. “Hey!/What?”

“Oh trust me,” the jellyfish demon said, “you do not want to be anywhere near Ahmed at the moment. He’s a bit...unhinged.”

“Him? But he’s a total softie,” Mei shot a look to him.

“He let Mei put ribbons in his mane,” MK added.

“Oh there’s no doubt about Med squishy heart, but there are times where he just has to cut loose, ya feel me,” the vulture just received confused looks.

“Just watch,” the bunny demon grinned and took out a bundle of golden carrots, and began to eat.

“What do you mean-,” she was cut off by Macauqe voice.

“Come at me you overgrown cat.”

They saw Ahmed give a grateful nod before he went on all four, not even caring about his messing up his robes, and his body started to spasm as he let out a fierce roar that made everyone in the vicinity cover their ears.

ROAAARRRRR

He then flickered out of view and the monkey quickly had both his arms crossed in front of him as a plume of dirt and dust gathered around him without warning. It was only when it was settled that the demons and humans saw that the once flat field now had a decent crater in the middle with both lion and monkey. Ahmed gave a low snarl as he saw that the monkey was not harmed.

“Aww baby cub claws not working,” he mocked him as he sent a hard kick to his jaw, “how bout I help ya there.”

He growled as he quickly grabbed the monkey’s leg and flung him to the ground, he gave a nasty grin as he saw blood trickle from his head.

“Wouldn’t get too cocky, haven’t you already tasted the blood trickling out of your jaw?”

The lion stilled as he tasted the metallic tang covering his tongue, he let out a low growl in frustration.

“First blood to me,” was all Mac had to say before the lion gave a roar and lunged at him, thus the fight beginning once more.

MK and Mei were stunned silent as they watch the vicious battle as each time Ahmed tried to throw an attack it would either get dodged or redirected, but if he did manage to land one blood was always shed. Macaque was the same way as each time he managed to strike him down they swore that they heard bones loudly breaking.

But neither side gave in.

“Terrifying right,” they were slightly startled by Yanyu’s voice and couldn’t help, but fall over as they saw, not only her, but everyone casually laying down and/or eating.

“Oh don’t give us that look,” Daiyu said as she hummed and watched the lion attempt to claw the monkey's eyes out, “it’s only some bloodshed, nothing major. Though it would be more thrilling if a certain spider bitch was involved, I would love to see her blood splattered out,” she lowly huffed.

“What she means to say is that Macaque has this well in hand, this isn’t his first time dealing with ol Meddy when he’s primal,” Bohai tried to comfort them.

“Primal?” MK questioned.

“Basically it’s when someone instinct takes over,” Minsheng explained as they munched on their carrot while watching Mac throw him harshly to the ground, “sometimes it’s a good thing like you stuck in a corner and you got a colony you need to protect behind you, it’s one hell of a boost let me tell you. Other times not so much.”

Both kids blinked at that lackluster answer.

“What they mean,” Bohai continued as they casually looked away from Ahmed sinking his teeth into Macaque shoulder, “is that other times the bad times, to put it bluntly, it’s when the voices get so loud that it begins to control your entire being until you finally get rid of it. If you're lucky, it can be as easy as sleeping, if not well,” he looked at where the six-eared monkey had ripped his shoulder away from Ahmed red stained fangs and proceeded to knock out a few teeth in retaliation. “That.”

“He becomes bloodthirsty,” Mei quietly says.

“Yeah,” Yanyu softly brought them down next to her as she gave them a bag of popcorn, “it’s not pretty, but he just has to let it out.”

“But why is Dad the one fighting him?! Why not any of you!” He half shouted in nervousness and anger as he looked towards the demons, specifically Daiyu.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I don’t have a death wish,” Bohai bluntly stated.

“Here here,” Sheng raised his hand.

“Tried that once and I was beaten in a minute flat,” the vulture huffed, “if Mackie wasn’t there then my body would have been a nice dinner to the rest of the wake.”

“Thus their first meeting,” the bunny added.

“Wait, Mac Mac first time meeting Ahmed was when he was beating the shit out of Daiyu and then to each other,” Mei asked.

“Yep,” they collectively said.

“And he is literally the only one able to fight against him?” MK questioned.”

“Yep,” they repeated.

Both teens took a glance as the monkey continued his vicious strikes against the lion, who attempted to decapitate his head every time, but each time he missed he instead decimated any boulders in the unfortunate vicinity into dust. The primal lion retaliated with his own thundering roar, but Macaque was fast enough to dodge the attacks that uprooted a grove of trees.

“Well there goes any small lingering doubts on how he was able to go toe to toe with the Monkey King,” Mei deadpanned as she slumped and stuffed her hand into the popcorn.

MK followed suit as he ate some popcorn, “you’re telling me.”

“He is kicking major monkey ass right now.”

“I am so happy that he is going easy on us,” the ponytail boy whispered out.

“Holy shit, no kidding,” she agreed, “just think, we could have been less than paste on the side of the road with a single hit if he actually tried to let loose with us.”

“Nahh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Min waved their worries off, “other than this, the only other time he actually lets loose is around his exes.”

“I’m sorry, his WHAT?!/Wait? WHAT?!” Mei and MK sat up as Mei continued, “what do you mean exes?!”

“Dad dated?!?!?” MK followed suit.

“Oh yeah,” Yanyu grinned, “I even met some of them, and let me tell you that he has horrible taste in partners.”

“I don’t think it’s his fault that most of them fall on the insane scale and not in a good way,” Bohai deadpanned.

“By insane you mean impulsive as shit that tries to fight anything that moves, then yeah,” Daiyu nodded.

“It’s weird hearing those words coming from you,” the adult human teased.

“Hey, I may like fighting, but even I have my own limits. His partners take the entire train and then the second one charging at em.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around Dad dating,” the seventeen year old muttered as he gripped his head as he looked towards the blood stained battle. “This I can get, but dating?”

“…I am so never gonna let this go,” a twinkle of mischievous appeared in Mei's eyes as she looked at them, “sooo if you had to guess, which one is his most insane, or worst, partner.”

“I have to say Hui, that scorpion bastard seemed nice enough, but she was a raging alcoholic that always tried to get into the celestial realm for some booze” Sheng started as they stuffed the rest of the carrot in their mouth.

“Ju. He was a fishy one, that turtle was always looking for his next meal, no matter where it came from,” Bohai grumbled.

“Might have something to do with nature,” Yanyu teased.

“Shut up.”

“Both of ya are brain dead if you forgot who really takes the crown,” the winged demon interjected.

“Who then?”

Daiyu and Yanyu just looked at each other before saying, “Lemur bitch.”

“Fair point,” both aquatic and land demons replied.

“Who?” Mei asked, but it was met with grimaced faces.

“Just,” Bohai began, “just pray you never meet him, Shun is-,” he was cut off by a loud yell.

SLAM

“WE DON’T TALK ABOUT HIM!” Macaque screeched while all his ears flared up, his eyes twitch violently with a wild look. “NEVER!” He repeated as he pressed his foot and staff on the lion’s back, who was just growling out and thrashing wildly under him.

“Yeahhh, let’s just say that after him, doc swore off on dating,” Yanyu sighed as she ate a handful of popcorn.

“But what did he do?” MK said as he was careful to avoid the name.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“But I really do,” Mei leaned in.

“No you don’t.”

“But I-,” she got a mouthful of popcorn stuffed in her mouth.

“You don’t,” Yanyu pulled back her hand, “now let’s watch them beat the shit out of each other. 20 on Mufasa knocking him out this time.”

“I’ll add to that,” Min added.

“Well I bet 25 that Dad will knock him out!” MK shouted, “there’s no way he’ll lose.”

“And I’ll double that,” Mei joined in after she swallowed the popcorn, “no way pops is losing to an overgrown cat!”

“Get ready to eat your words.”

“The only thing I’ll be eating is some delicious double truffle swirl ice cream with your money.”

“Let’s just see about that.”

(Minsheng soon regretted those words as both Mei and MK happily ate their ice cream alongside a bandaged, but still a very conscious monkey, and a bruised up lion who was contently knocked out.)

“And that should be the last of it,” the eighteen year old boy grinned as he then noticed a violet headband hanging next to a stuffed monkey, “whoops, can’t forget that.” He quickly snatched it up and proceeded to put his hair in a ponytail then began to look around his room.

The room, once filled with clothes spread all over the floor, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, pictures and posters covering the walls, now laid bare with only a few boxes left to the side filled with them all. MK couldn’t stop the sad grin that formed on his face as he took in the sight of his room-old room, he was going to miss this, but he felt that it was time to move out and try living on his own for a while.

Knock Knock

“Sorry I’m not in right now, leave a message,” he jokingly said despite fully knowing who is on the other side.

The door swung open to reveal Macaque fondly rolling his eyes, “Where’d you get that snark from, I’ll never know.”

“Neither shall I.”

The monkey looked around the room, “so it looks like you're about done, you gonna bring it all over to Pigsy?”

“Most of it, yeah, but I have a separate pile I'm donating or giving to Yan munchkins,” he pointed to a few boxes titled ‘Donations’ and ‘Yanyu Gremlins.’

Mac smirked at the name as he gave a little walk around the bare room and noticed that where the bed used to be was a splatter of red paint and a dent in the wall, “huh, so how did this happen?”

MK froze as he saw what he was looking at and gave a nervous grin, “so remember when Mei was over and we had a bunch of paint for that art project.”

“The one about the deities or the one about nature?”

“Nature, and well remember how you found us covered in paint in here.”

“After I told you to keep it in the kitchen or outside so it won't be too hard to clean up, yes.” He deadpanned.

“And we did at first,” he put a finger up, “buttttt I left some of my materials in my room and it was alot, so Mei followed, but we kinda forgot that we still had wet paint all over us and we began to freak out. One thing led to another and Mei may have accidentally used too much force as she was panicking and let to the dent in the wall, which then made us panic even more, so we had the idea of moving the bed to cover the dent, which worked...except now the covers had paint on it and well....”

“Is how I found the both of you freaking out on the bed covered head to toe in paint,” the monkey snorted.

“In hindsight, we probably should have taken off our shoes before walking inside,” he scratched the back of his neck and sat against the wall opposing the window.

“That would have been a smart idea, took us ages to get it all cleaned,” he smirked as he sat beside him.

The teenager sighed as he looked out the window, “I'm gonna miss this.”

“Pfft, who says you can’t come back?” He playfully ruffled his head, “this isn’t a goodbye, but a see you later, you're always welcomed back home anytime.”

“Even if I screw it up time and time again,” he leaned into the touch.

“Even if you managed to wreck the whole country and have a bounty coming from the heavens that could feed nations for lifetimes,” Mac shot back.

MK laughed at the image, “Havoc in Heaven’s sequel, now with more monkeys.”

“And dragons,” the demon added.

“Mei would kick so much ass.”

“She absolutely would,” he chuckled as he continued to thread his fingers through his son's hair.

It was silent and, like so many times before, the two of them took only comfort from it.

“Dad,” MK quietly began.

“Yes comet.”

“… I’m scared,” he curled up into him, “like super duper scared and I have never left you ever since you saved-,”

“You would have-,” Macaque interjected.

“Saved,” he emphasized, “me and I can never thank you enough for just being there but I really want to do this and I really want to try to do things on my own! But I don’t know why I am so scared-wait I do, but it just so stupid and I can’t believe that I feel this way, cause you won’t just up and leave, but I-,” he stopped as he felt his Dad arms encircle him.

“It’s a scary step and I know change is terrifying, but I am so proud that you want to do this. It will be hard, no doubt, and at times it may seem like the whole world is against you, but know that you still have tomorrow waiting for you. So,” he tilted his son's head, “keep your head held high and look towards the stars, cause that right there is your limit starlight.”

MK smiled at his father's words.

“Also I think you may have forgotten something,” he showed off his six ears fluttering. “I have six ears for a reason, so if you ever need help or just need me, just call and-,”

“You’ll come running,” he grinned as he pushed himself further into the monkey's soft fur.

“And don’t you forget it,” he pushed his face into his son's hair and gave a soft kiss on top.

“I won’t,” he whispered out and clutched onto him tightly as both curled up in content.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #mk #macaque #PlumTreeAU

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imma-fucking-nerd · 4 years ago

Text

Canine Conundrum

(Connor x reader x Nines)

A/N: got this funny idea and just had to write it. Don't worry, it's pure fluffff. Literally.

Here's Part 2

———————————————

You trudged yourself into the precinct, sighing in relief as you felt the warmth starting to thaw your frozen face. As much as you loved the winter, you fucking hated the cold. Walking to your desk you immediately noticed that both Connor and Conan weren't there. Huh. That was weird. They're always here this early. You thought to yourself. But you simply shrugged it off as you hung your jacket on the back of your chair. They're probably out on an investigation or something.

You sighed softly, missing your greeting from Connor accompanied by a fresh cup of coffee he'd always prepare for you. That meant you had to get it yourself. Hopefully Gavin wasn't here, and with the lack of the presence of Nines you assumed that was the case.

However when you entered the break room you were a bit confused when you saw the DPD's biggest douchebag leaning against the counter. Heading over the coffee machine you started on a cup.

"Where's Nines? It's not like him to not be at work," you asked, keeping your eyes on the coffeemaker.

"Fuck if I know. Wasn't here when I got here. We were supposed to be working on a shitton of reports too. Which I got to do by myself now. Fuckin plastic prick," he grumbled, mumbling the last part to himself.

That only made your confusion grow, it also started to make you worry. Where the hell was he? Maybe he's just with Connor and Hank, wherever they were. Your logical side told you, trying to prevent yourself from overthinking like you always did.

You gave Gavin a little nod before grabbing your styrofoam cup of coffee and leaving the break room before he had the chance to be a dick about something. You really didn't want to deal with his bullshit right now.

Sitting back at your desk, you got to work filling out reports. It was almost noon when you checked your clock again and there was still no sign of the android brothers. Now your logical thinking was starting to have trouble fighting off the anxiousness. Were they hurt? Were they dead?-

That thought was cut off when you saw Hank walk through the door looking extra done with everything. You got up from your seat and was about to go ask if Connor and Nines were with him when you stopped in your tracks. Following behind Hank were two.....dogs? One german shepard and one husky.

Okay what the hell is going on.

You walked over to Hank and looked down at the dogs who sat themselves beside his desk, the german shepard sitting closer to you. It looked up at you and tilted it's head slightly. You let out a little 'aw' and pet its head, making it's tail start wagging almost immediately. So cute. Reminds you of Connor. When you went to pet the husky too you were met with a glare that made you rethink that decision. You didn't even know dogs could glare.

Looking back up to Hank, who had just slumped down into his chair with a sigh, you sent him a questioning glance.

"What's with the dogs? And where's Connor? He hasn't been here all morning and neither has Nines," worry laced your voice as you questioned the man.

He just looked over to you and gestured vaguely over to the dogs, making you even more confused.

"What? I dont...." you trailed off as you glanced back down to the dogs and thought long and hard about Hanks vague answer.

Before Hank had the chance to just tell you what was going on you suddenly gasped when you finally put the pieces together.

"No!" you looked back down at the dogs with wide eyes and your mouth slightly agape.

"Yep," was all Hank said, popping the 'p'.

"Wh- I- How?" you frantically glanced from Hank to, who you presumed was none other than Connor and Conan.

"No fucking clue. All I know is that one minute we were chasing down a suspect and the next these dipshits get their consciousness put into android dogs. Best part is we have no fucking clue where their actual bodies are," Hank crossed his arms and sent the android-dogs a glare whilst he explained the situation.

You knelt down infront of your best friends turn dog and couldn't stop the grin from creeping across your face. The german shepard, who you assumed was Connor, had his head hung seemingly in shame. Meanwhile Nines kept his ever present hard glare. But in this form, it wasn't as effective.

"Awwww you made him sad Hank," you exaggerated your words a bit as you spoke, something you always did in the presence of a pup.

Them being Connor and Conan didn't change that for you.

Hank just rolled his eyes in response and got up from his chair, grumbling about needing a coffee. As he left you directed your attention back to Connor.

"Don't worry, he won't be mad for too much longer. How could you stay mad at this face," you cupped his furry cheeks in your hands and he immediately perked up, his tail wagging furiously at your touch.

You couldn't help but giggle and gush at how adorable he was, and he was loving every minute of it. Giving him one more good pet to the head, you shifted your attention to the more stoic of the two. Your grin turned into a smirk.

"You want some lovin too don't you Nines," again, you reached out your hand to pet him but stoped when you heard a low growl.

"Okay, okay. Fine," you retracted your hand with a little pout.

"But I'm going to pet you before you get back to your regular body, mark my words," you say, narrowing your eyes at him, an action he returns.

Getting up from your kneeling position, you look over to see the captain giving you the 'get back to work' look. He didn't even seem to question the two dogs that were sitting there. Maybe Hank already filled him in. Putting your hands on your hips, you looked down at the dogs.

"Alright, I gotta get back to work. Try not to chew on anything mkay?" you say playfully.

You could feel Nines spiritually eyerolling, meanwhile Connor was just staring at you with adoring puppy eyes. You weren't sure if that was because they were literal puppy eyes or if was just him being him. Either way, it made your heart melt. Before you could get yelled at, you went back to your desk.

Several hours went by and before you knew it the end of the day had arrived. Since Connor couldn't exactly help Hank much, he just kinda sat next to him and whined softly when he wasn't getting any attention. That annoyed Hank to no end, at least that's what he presented. He secretly thought it was kinda cute and would give his boy a pet or two when he thought no one was looking, making Connor a very happy boy.

Nines however just sat in the spot he usually did, watching nothing in particular intently, or staring at you. So not much change there. When Gavin questioned who's dog it was and went to pet him he nearly got his hand bitten off. Hank told him it was Nines and Gavin wasted no time teasing him about it. That was until Nines had enough and damn near chased him around the office growling like a rabid dog. You definitely got a recording of the scene, and planned on cherishing it forever.

You gathered your things, put on your jacket, and said your goodbyes to Hank but before you could head out he stopped you.

"Don't forget to take those two with you," he said gesturing to the canine versions of Connor and Nines as he got himself ready to go home as well.

"What? Why can't you take them?" you questioned, not that you actually minded the responsibility.

"Cuz Sumo doesn't do well with other dogs, fuck knows what he'll think about android dogs," you could practically see the disappointment in Connor as Hank said that.

"If you don't want to bring them home you could just leave them here," he shrugged before making his way over and out the door.

With a sigh you decided you couldn't just leave them here all on their lonesome.

"Alright, c'mon boys," you said to pair as you made your way out the door and to your car.

You nearly forgot they weren't able to open the car doors for themselves until you saw them patiently waiting. Nines was sitting infront of the passenger door expectantly and you shook your head.

"Nope, only humans get the passenger side," you said cheekily before opening the back door for the two.

Connor was the first to hop inside, heading to the other side to let Nines in who followed reluctantly. Instead of just closing the door after they were inside, you leaned in and strapped Nines up with the seatbelt. You could almost hear him asking what the hell you were doing.

"Safety first," was all you said to the unspoken question with a smile.

Closing the door you quickly walked around to the other side to buckle Connor's seatbelt as well. When you were finished he gave a little bark, seemingly in appreciation.

"You're welcome. At least one of you kept their manners," you said, sending Nines a look.

Once they were safely strapped in you got into the driver's seat, strapped yourself in, and started the car. The drive home was, as to be expected, not filled with much conversation. You just listened to your favourite music, occasionally glancing back at the two. Connor was looking out the window, and if it weren't freezing out you would've rolled down the window for him. Nines just kept staring straight ahead blankly.

You finally made it home after about twenty minutes and undid everyone's seatbelts, closing the doors after everyone was out of the car. Walking up to your door where the boys were sitting patiently you unlocked it and let them in. A soft sigh left your lips once you entered your warm home and you hastily got out of your jacket and boots. Once you were done you looked down to Connor and Nines.

"Well....make yourselves at home I guess?" was all you could really think to say.

However none of them moved from their sitting position infront of the door. That was until you shrugged and headed to your room, to which Connor followed you. Conan on the other hand stayed put.

You chuckled softly when you noticed the browned eyed pup following you around and pat his head. It honestly wasn't that big of a change of how he acted normally. Except he didn't get pets. But maybe that'd change.

"As cute as that is Connor, you're gunna have to stay here when I go shower, okay?" you knew he wouldn't actually be able to answer, but to your surprise he gave a little nod.

"Good boy," you chuckled softly, giving him one last pet before going to gather your things for a nice hot shower.

After you were finished with your blissful shower, you opened the bathroom door and were immediately greeted by Connor sitting infront of the door. You noticed that once he saw you his tail started wagging a bit.

The rest of your night was pretty uneventful. Connor followed you around as you did your normal nightly routine, almost tripping over him a couple of times in the process. Nines was still sitting by the door, unmoving. Well, except for his eyes which followed your every movement. You knew better than to try and get him to relax, because that probably was him relaxing.

When you finally plopped down onto the couch to just chill and watch whatever you felt like, you noticed Connor sitting by your feet. You patted the spot next to you and he immediately jumped up and curled up next to you as if he was waiting for your permission. Looking over to Nines you patted the other side of you but he made no move.

"Suit yourself," you said with a little shrug before turning your attention to the tv, absentmindedly petting Connor.

You must have fallen asleep after a while because you were suddenly jolted awake when you felt something on your lap. Looking down you saw that Conan was laying next to you and had rested his head in your lap. You had to physically stop yourself from squealing so he wouldn't run off.

It took a couple of minutes until you made any moves, scared that any indication that you were awake and aware would make him leave. But you just couldn't help yourself anymore, and you did say you would pet him.

So ever so slowly you lifted up a hand and moved it up to his head. The moment you moved he lifted his head up to look at you, but surprisingly he put his head back down. You took that as an ok to proceed, slowly bringing your hand to his fluffy head before stopping just as you were about to touch him. You wanted to give him one last chance to indicate he did not want to be touched. But when you didn't hear a growl or anything you finally ran your hand through his surprising soft fur.

You didn't even realize how tense you got because once you finally pet him you felt your whole body relax. A small smile graced your lips and your chest felt all warm and fuzzy.

"I knew it," you whispered softly.

Suddenly, you heard a whine from your left where Connor was. A short laugh left you before your free hand started petting him too.

"Don't worry, I didn't forget about you Concon," you reassured him, your smile growing into a grin.

So there you sat. An android dog on each side, each wanting your attention. This was probably the best day ever. And you were never going to let them forget it.

—————————————————

A/N: oof this was longer than I expected it to be oops- Also I feel like it got bad at the end there sorry ;w; Also also I was gunna write about how they get back into their bodies but it was already getting hella long so if y'all want a part 2 lemme know!

#dbh #dbh x reader #dbh nines #dbh connor #dbh rk900 #dbh rk800 #connor rk800 x reader #connor rk800 #connor x reader #nines x reader #rk900 x reader #rk900 #connor x reader x nines #rk800 x reader x rk900 #detroid become human #detroit

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aliaslua · 4 years ago

Text

Everything I wanted

Michelangelo (TMNT 2016) x Fem!reader

Summary: A deep friendship flourishes between the reader and Michelangelo. Despite your attempts to disregard what your heart desires, the affection between you is impossible to ignore. One day, for no apparent reason, Mike starts treating you coldly. Could this be the end of a relationship that never even started?

Category: Romantic, some angst but mainly pure fluff.

WARNINGS: None c:

A/N: So I've been feeling super romantic lately, couldn't help but to write this fluff piece to calm my heart! Hope you like it! Also, English is not my first language, so constructive criticism is always welcome. Thank you for reading!

You can also read it on AO3 <3

How long?

You sighed deeply and continued to stir the sauce pan.

How long has it been since you realized you were in love? The memories of that heavy rainy day when Michelangelo had knocked on the balcony window were still vivid, you remember it as if it were yesterday, even though it was almost a year ago. At that time you weren't yet part of the group, effectively. You had met those vigilante - the turtles - only two weeks ago, and despite having made maybe two or three visits to the lair, their attitude towards you was still very reserved, very cautious. It made sense... They didn't know you and had a life that did not allow suspicious people around, it was the most rational thing to do. Even though you understand the point of view, it still brought you a little discomfort to be treated so coldly.

You sighed again. They all did treated you like an outside at that time... Everyone but him. In that night that now inhabited your mind, Mike had sought refuge in your apartment. The rain was too heavy to come home, could he stay overnight? Well, of course! So you brought towels and a thick blanket, you increased the fire in the fireplace and made him hot chocolate. He was so happy, so grateful. He was like that, after all: humorous, cheerful, positive.

So you spent the night together... Talking, cooking, playing cards and waiting the end of the torrential rain that insisted on falling. That had been the first time you had been up all night but the wait was not at all tedious, Mikey was so funny and so joyful that the hours passed like minutes and only when the first rays of the sun appeared on the horizon did you realized how long it had taken.

"Damn, is it day time already?." He had said "Thanks for the company, Babycakes. Best date ever." He winked and chuckled.

You shared with him a genuine smile and even after he left you continued to smile for the rest of the week.

That had been a year ago. After that, Michelangelo started to neglected his patrol shifts to visit you. You ordered pizza, watched series, played board games. He loved to watch you doing your hair and once or twice he had let you gave him a manicure session, his company was the highlight of your day and you guys started to see each other at least three times every week. It didn't take long for his brothers to find out and Leonardo gave him a scolding that seemed monstrous by Michelangelo's reaction when he told you - Well, guess you lost the chance you had to make a good impression. At least Mike liked you - he did, a lot - but indiscipline had resulted in punishment and now he could only visit you when he was off duty.

It was during that period that you realized you were in love. The realization came through you like thunder. You were waiting for him to come in through the window, but he didn't show up. You remembered that he wouldn't come - the punishment also involved not leaving the lair for a month, only for missions - and you realized the terrible sadness of knowing that you wouldn't see him. Suddenly, his absence felt like a hole in your chest and the pain was more than spiritual: you could feel the unbearable contraction of your own heart. In the weeks that followed you tried to rationalize: "He's my friend and I like him. Of course I miss him! That's absolutely normal. Nothing wrong or unusual. It doesn't mean I am in love" Maybe, maybe. If you don't say it, if you don't accept it, if you deny it until the end, then it won't be true. It is not love.

But it was. It undeniably was. When that month finaly passed and you saw his shadow crackle on your balcony again the vivid heat that stung your chest screamed that he was the man you loved. You still remembered the feeling of being in his arms again. His scent, his skin, his laughter, his soft voice that whispered in your ear how he had missed you, you still remembered the thrill you felt in your body when he popped a kiss on your ear.

From then on things had gone downhill. Your denial transformed into a snowball that grew to a point that was impossible to ignore. You started to visited him at the Lair once a week and you still had weekly visits in your apartment, you had your own internal jokes and non-verbal codes. The hugs became longer and longer and letting go seemed irrational, while everything about him felt right: his smile, his arms, the way he scratched his neck when he needed to think, the way he tucked your hair back behind your ear , the teasing, the flirting ... Everything was perfect, it was suffocating, it was too much.

The kitchen alarm woke you out of your trance. You drained the noodle water. Today was wednesday and Michelangelo had promised to visit, but canceled at the last minute. Recently things have been... weird. One day you had arrived at the Lair and you felt a tension that hung in the air, that kind that remains after an interrupted fight. Mike started to be awkward, embarrassed, shy. This suspicious posture caught you off guard and suddenly it seemed like you didn't even know each other. He had stopped calling you by petnames, he didn't give you hugs anymore and the messages were so rare that sometimes they didn't even come. You didn't understand what had happened. What had you done? It was impossible to know. But canceling today's meeting had been the last straw and the message was clear to you. It had ended before it even started.

A deep sigh made you swallow the knot in your throat and with a forkful of your dinner, you held back your tears. Maybe it wasn't meant to be. You were too different. How could it be? He was the hero of the city and you couldn't be more ordinary. A large sip of wine warmed your body. This time, a single tear ran uncontrolled down your cheek. You would never get over him. You would never stop missing him. You would be forever haunted by the cruel doubt of not knowing where it had gone wron-

A soft knock on your balcony window made you jump in fright. You immediately recognized the noise, how could you forget? That had been a harbinger of your happiness for the past year. Mikey.

In a hurry, you wiped away the single tear with the back of your hand. When you arrived in the living room, he had already entered. There was a giant space between you. Normally you would run to hug him but it all seemed so inappropriate now. Your heart was beating so fast that you could feel it in your throat. You looked at him and it seemed that you weren't the only one who had been crying.

"Y/N I ..." He took a deep breath. He looked different. Perhaps older, matured by sadness. His eyes no longer had the sparkle that had made you fallen in love with him. "I'm sorry to come at this hour. I ... I ..."

A deafening silence filled the room.

"I can't stay like this anymore." He finally said, in a sigh "I can't, it's impossible. I can't eat, I can't drink ... I can't think of anything... I have no motivation to do anything I ... I can't live anymore with all of this in the chest. I ... I need to hear you reject me. "

"What?" Was all you could say, astonished.

"It's all I am asking for. Please reject me. Tell me already that I am a monster, that I took advantage of your trust and friendship and that if you knew it that would came to this you would never have been so kind. Please ..." This time you had no doubts, he was crying. "Please, just tell me! End all my hopes, because I can't think of anything else. I-I can't live in peace until you finally tell me the obvious. For God sake. Tell me that you don't love me back. So I can finaly get over this stupid dream and move on!"

"What." You said pathetically, for the second time in a roll.

He crossed the room with determination. He approached you with the same delicacy and affection that you thought had disappeared and with the same care he kindly held you face.

"I'm in love with you. I am in love with you since that first day when you gave me a blanket and made me hot chocolate, when we played cards and talked about basketball. You are a sight inked on my mind and since I met you I can't think of anything else." He closed his eyes bitterly "If everything was different ... I-If I were different, I would do anything to be everything you needed. But I know ... I-I know I'm not... I am not the man you want and more than that I know that I’m not the man you deserve... But I can’t spend another minute pretending I don’t dream about you every day, because honestly, I’m going crazy. Just say it. Say that this is impossible and that I am the last person in the world that you would like to be- "

When your lips touched, it was as if an electric current was running through your body. There he was, Mike, your Mike, back in your arms, asking you to do the impossible. There was nothing to be said - You could only show him. His eyes widened with the unexpected advance, but with the same speed he returned the kiss, deepening it. His lips were everything you had imagined, warm and soft and it was almost impossible to contain your moan when he dropped his hands to your waist and pulled you closer. Your body was hot but it was no longer because of the wine, the repressed desire turned to caresses and your bodies seemed to scream "finally, oh god, finally!"

The pause for breathing was followed by two panting bodies. Leaning on his arms, a stunning view of his blue eyes was the only thing that interested you.

"I love you, Michelangelo. "You said, almost whispering." I love you, I love you, I love you. "

He smiled for the first time since arriving at your apartment, you saw clearly when his eyes started to shine again. You joined together again in a long, hot, lingering kiss. Lost in the heat between your legs, the cold in your belly and the joy in your heart, you could only think of how everything was perfect.

You sat on the couch, you on his lap. The night was still young and silence was enough to describe the joy you shared in that embrace. Finally in his arms, you laid your head on his shoulder while he played with your hair. Staying there, with him, was everything you wanted, for the rest of your life.

"I will make you the happiest woman in the world." He said while sniffing your hair.

"I already am." You said, after kissing his neck "You already did."

#bayverse tmnt #tmnt #tmnt 2016 #michelangelo #tmnt mirage #fluff #angst #mikeyvsreader #reader

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calumrose · 4 years ago

Note

“Yeah… Huh? Oh, sorry I was just thinking about my girl/boyfriend.” w cal please 🥺

I feel like this should not have taken me as long as it did... But anyway here we are! Hopefully you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! It’s currently very late here so I’m posting this right before I go to bed so please let me know what you think and I’ll read any responses/thoughts in the morning!

Prompt – “Yeah… Huh? Oh, sorry I was just thinking about my girl/boyfriend.”

The sun beat down on the city, the scorching heat sizzled against the pavement, dozens of pedestrians littering the streets as they ventured out to enjoy and take advantage of the weather. Chatter filled the open air, laughter being exchanged by the couples who sat together in the small cafes that were scattered along the street, a hurried rush of commotion brushed by as the group of young teens sprinted past to meet with their friends. The city was alive with the heat that the weather provided, and everyone was taking advantage of the bliss. I mean, they were crazy not to.

The groups of people that were scattered around the street caught your attention from where you sat, your palms gently wrapped around the cool glass of lemonade that you had ordered earlier, providing a cooling sensation to your skin to battle against the heat that battered against your exposed skin as you sat outside.

You watched as the scenes of interaction unfolded in front of you; admiring how the elderly couple sat just a few tables in front of you were sharing a sundae, the soft smiles on their faces causing a light flutter of your heart at the sweet affection they shared, and even the sight of that young child – you assumed them to be around two or three – sat proudly in a high chair, hands tapping excitedly against the plastic table that was attached to their chair, giggles and bright smiles being shown towards the older gent who sat with her, her bright eyes growing bigger when he spoke to her.

You felt your heart soar at the loving interaction, your chest almost feeling as though someone was clutching it tightly as you felt yourself slowly begin to feel as though you were almost floating due to the warmth of the sun mixed in with the sweetness of the amorous exchanges you had witnessed.

The blue of the sky was something that belonged in a painting; bright and vivid – almost deemed to be a figment of your imagination. The golden cast of the sun shone down, dark shadows casting over from the shelter that was provided by umbrellas and canopies that painted the street with black triangles and rectangles, providing a brief moment of cold to the shoulders of those who passed by before they exposed themselves to the sun once again. The colours were mesmerising, strikingly beautiful, much like the man who sat in front of you.

Your eyes did not catch his brown as you looked around, your exploration of the new city taking a full grasp of your attention and withholding it from being shared with anything or anyone else. The upscale buildings and luxurious structures of the city wowed you, the architecture and detailing in every wall showcasing the delicate talents of those who built them.

It was a beautiful city — one that still held so much to explore.

You were so lost in your thoughts, in your own wonder of the place you found yourself in that you didn’t even hear the voice calling out for your attention, the warm melody of Calum reaching a dead-end, the sound practically falling off of a cliff edge as it rang out to silence, reaching the gateway of your ears before it faded away.

You didn’t mean to ignore him — you simply just didn’t hear him. Your mind, body, and soul too captivated by the wonders that surrounded you, the sweet smells filling your nostrils, as the beauty and culture intrigued you and clouded your senses in every way that they could.

“Babe, are you listenin’?” His voice seemed to finally break a wall, the sound clear and strong as it reached your ears. It drew you out of your thoughts, your eyes finally tearing from the passing street and settling on the sight of the man who sat opposite you at the small table you had claimed for the past hour or so.

Your lips curled into a smile at the sight of his matching one across the table, his full lips curling into an amused upturn as he caught the glimmer in your eyes as the sun reflected against the gentle colour. You couldn’t help but watch how he glowed as he sat there, back resting against the chair, elbow placed comfortably on the table as he held his glass in his hand, taking a gentle sip of the iced coffee he had ordered.

Calum was radiant – both physically and spiritually – and it showed in the way he smiled, in the way he spoke, in the way he presented himself to strangers passing by. He flashed a kind smile towards people who passed by, exchanging an almost silent acknowledgment of ‘have a nice day’ as they carried on their way. Calum was a warm character, he had a comforting nature that drew people in, he made them feel at home, he made them feel valued, and that in itself was a beautiful thing.

“Yeah… Huh? Oh, sorry I was just thinking about my boyfriend,” You blinked quickly, shaking your head ever so slightly as if to shake the brief daydream out of your head, bringing your full attention back to the event at hand – your lunch with Calum. It was not surprising that you got caught in your head again – not in the slightest – and it didn’t surprise Calum either. It was something that intrigued him about you, always coming to wonder what you were thinking about when you became lost in your thoughts, silently slipping in a little world of your own as you looked around and found a new focal point that would be the prime star of your latest vivid journey. “You probably don’t know him; tall, very handsome, has blond curly hair – although it’s fading a little bit, and he’s thinks he’s really funny when he’s anything but,”

Calum raised an eyebrow at your remark, his smile slowly transforming into a smirk at the acknowledgment of your slightly teasing tone that snuck into your voice halfway through your sentence, his tongue poking out to briefly glide along his bottom lip as he nodded in your direction before responding, “Oh, is that so? Sounds like a pretty interesting guy if I’m honest, I’m sure he is funny, I’ve heard that tall, handsome blonds frankly have a really good sense of humour.”

“Why don’t you enlighten me?” You crossed your legs beneath the table, arms resting folded over one another against the cold metal table you were sat at, leaning forward ever so slightly as you lifted the glass of lemonade to your lips and took a small sip. The liquid tingled against your tongue, the little popping bubbles of gas tickling your taste buds as they mixed with the sweet sugary drink and left you pleasantly satisfied. Although there was another form of satisfaction that was starting to crawl up your back, the thought of that need slowly distracting you once again but this time, even though your brain was venturing, your focus remained solely on Calum. Your eyes glancing down at his lips as he let them separate ever so slightly, his tongue poking against the inside of his lip, the flesh bulging out slightly as his eyebrows remained raised in a mischievous glint.

Calum could see the cogs in your head turning, watching how you tilted your head slightly to the right as you rolled your lips into your mouth. You knew exactly what you were doing as did he. You both knew exactly what game had suddenly just been started, and neither of you were willing to give up until you had completed the invisible quest.

“Oh, love, I’ll do more than just that.”

---

Send me a soft/blush prompt & I’ll write a blurb for it! :)

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natromanxoff · 4 years ago

Text

I wasn’t sure about posting this at first but as it is already shared publicly and I have come across with it on Pinterest, I decided that it would be okay. So here is a story of a fan about Jim Hutton:

“ON 23rd of March, there was a Queen Tribute band concert in Goresbridge and my boyfriend told me that Jim would come as well. He admitted that he had arranged with Stephen for Jim to come along. The concert was in the pub called The Spirit Store. What a great name for spiritual meeting, I thought. When I entered, Jim sat at the table with Stephen, Jascqueline, her sister Valeria and other family friends. There was nowhere to sit, so we just stood by the table for a while. When I looked at Jim, he appeared somewhat fragile and tiny, like a man who could easily be overlooked. He didn´t look anything like those photos portraying him in the books.

After a while, there was a free seat by the table and everyone, including Jim, moved in order for us to sit down. It was just one place and my friend Mike wanted to take it. He got up fast but they all stopped him. Jim measured Mike up and down and told him, "Perhaps you should let the lady sit here, you cavalier!" Embarassed, Mike got up from his chair and offered it to me. I got the honorable place alongside Jim. Being a woman sometimes has its advantages! Jim welcomed me with heartfelt "Hi". At first I was nervous, but after a while I felt relaxed and enjoyed Jim's company. I was aware of his behavior, gestures, laughter, and tried to absorb his energy all at once. It was easy to talk to him about anything and everything.

I wanted to know the man Freddie loved so much, so I guess I started giving him many questions.

"Jim, are you still in touch with Phoebe?" Jim looked at me closely and began to talk to me with interest. "I haven´t really been talking to him for a long time. I know he had a hotel in Dubai, then he sold it, and he's in Prague now. He also bought something overthere and I think he's going to settle down there." When I heard about Prague, I jumped up excitedly and told him that I was from there. He smiled a little, though the coincidence like this didn´t overwhelm him as much as me.

He relished glass of Budwaiser and smoked Ultra light Silk Cuts. He offered me one and lit it up for me like a real gentleman. It seemed he wanted to continue talking. We both made fun of the ultralight effect of his cigarettes, which would probably piss off every orthodox smoker, Freddie for sure! He then demonstrated jokingly, how to properly smoke them. He inhaled all the smoke by sucking in his cheeks and widening his eyes, as if he should soon burst like an inflated toad. None of us resisted and we both burst into a mad laughter. I told him about my visit to Munich and meeting Barbara. He smiled and listened, then he rolled his eyes up to heaven and stated that she is one hell of a crazy woman. I totally agreed, and added, that also alcoholic one. It was surreal to talk about mutual aquaintances together, people we both knew. I also mentioned my visit to New York club and I could see how he returns nostalgically into his memories. Then I also tried to make him remember my friend Allison, who told me about him in the first place.

"About nine years ago she visited you in London". He couldn´t remember and admitted, that since then a lot of people have passed through his life and many of them he never saw again.

I continued. "She showed me several of your photos and in one of them you were holding Freddie's portrait that you bought at the auction". Suddenly he jumped up and said he knew whom I mean.

I showed him my miniature box containing a stone and talked about it with almost patriotic pride. "It's a stone from Logan Mews that I had to dig out from under the threshold of his house, because there was nothing else to take." Jim laughed out loud, this time without any hindrance and doubt that I was totally crazy. I also laughed because I knew I sound like nuts. He remarked with smile from ear to ear that I was pretty crazy. "Yeah, I'm crazy, and I'm proud to be. Who isn´t...and by the way.....why not?" I smiled at what I just said, because that´s what Freddie would say, to defend himself. Jim then talked about the medallion that Freddie had given him for his birthday. He said, there were three miniature pictures inside. "The first is that of Miko ", he said gently, looking up at me to make sure I knew who he was talking about. "In the other one is Freddie" ... he continued with kind of fervor and love. Something deep inside me shivered. "In the third one," ... he didn´t answer yet, when I jumped into his monologue ...."Tiffany," I blurted out.

"My mom's photo," he finished his sentence. (and I prayed he didn´t register my answer).

It was nice to hear him remembering like that. He opened up in front of me the way I never dreamt of. I think it was nice for him to share these beautiful moments and to talk about things that meant so much to him. "This rock is my good luck charm. I have been listening to Queen since I´m twelve and I also work in the Fan Club's office. We celebrate his anniversary every year. When I went here, I was kidding with my friends that I might meet Jim Hutton in Ireland... and here you are, sitting right next to me. That´s my dream come true", I said all emotional.

"How do you know Stephen?", he inquired after while.

"I go out with Vinnie and they are good friends" He eyed my boyfriend and indicated that he knew who he was.

"I was annoying the two of them and was constantly asking them to bring you", I smiled.

"Oh, Jacqueline wanted me to come, alright" Jim smiled at the thought. Then he talked about the music talent competition, in which they were selecting the best imitators of Queen.

"What music are you actually listening to?" I wondered.

"I have no favorite, I'm listening to almost everything. Even a radio".

"And do you still have Zig and Zag?"

He only sighed and said in a sad voice that they had both died since then.

"And do you have any other cats?"

"Yeah, I have seven others now," Jim smiled. This number didn´t surprise me. The old habits are hard to kill.

"Do you still keep up the gardening, Jim?"

"Constantly," he said with a loving smile and amusedly showed me his hands dirty from the clay and covered in sores. For God's sake, he must have been gardening a few minutes before going to a concert!, I thought to myself. A complete garden maniac.....

We were joking on the account of the band that was supposed to start playing long time ago, but somehow did not. He told me it would be nice to get drunk, so we didn´t know how terrible they were. That really made me crack up. He could be so funny.

He joked and emphasized to everyone around the table, that instead of a concert he could have been at home watching his favorite movie. In the same breath, he admitted that he was curious about their performance and that he hadn´t been out in ages.

He leaned over to me and confessed, that now he lived a life completely cut off from the rest of the world.

"We are basically the same, I am basically like him. Now I just enjoy loneliness and privacy. I don´t go out anywhere except my garden". I immediately knew whom he was referring to in his speech.

I said that I had discovered his house in Palatine and apologized when I saw his slightly concerned look. I said I was just little curious.

He then recalled a few of his encounters with the fans. One day there was an unknown car with a couple of strangers that arrived to his house. They came all way from Vienna and they found him by questioning people in a town! Not a hard thing to trace him, he said, as every cab driver in the area knows him pretty well. One local newspaper even published a photo of his house, and although they gave a wrong address, a lot of people had found him.

That made me laugh, because I knew what it means to be a devoted fan.

"On the other hand, it's nice to know that someone is constantly looking after you and giving you the feeling that all this is still alive," I added with a smile.

"Jim, do you still have your Volvo?"

"You mean the one that Freddie gave me?.....No, I don´t have it few years now, I´ve swapped it for a new one," he smiled.

He was all too gallant all the time, always lighting my cigarette.

He also wondered how long I would stay in Ireland, so I said that only another half a year.

"And you wanna come back here?" He asked suddenly.

"Oh, I'd love to. I'm trying to find a job either in Carlow or Kilkenny," I said enthusiastically.

Then I fell silent, looked at him and assured him "Definitely."

Each time he looked up into my eyes, I saw an incredibly nice person in front of me. Something in his silent expression suggested that he had suffered great deal of pain in life, but that he was now completely reconciled with his fate. Still, in his eyes shone a spark of unrelenting humor. In his company I forgot all about the world. I was happy to be able to make such an affluent and warm contact with him. The longer we knew each other, the closer we were.

When he wanted to go to the toilet, Stephen told him that the men's toilets were behind the bar and the ladies in front of the bar. It sounded like he wasn´t quite sure which one would Jim prefer.

But Jim didn´t care much and set off to the men's. I admit it made me laugh a little.

Then we continued our dialogue. I mentioned that I read both his and Phoebe's book, but that I couldn´t find his book anywhere in the stores. He confirmed that it´s out of print at the minute.

When I told him that I had stolen his book at the local library, he laughed and said that I should have asked him and he would have given me a copy, but he only had Italian version.

Finally, the band started to play. Everyone in the pub stood up and whole lot of us - as we were tucked in at the back, climbed onto the window ledges. I stood next to Jim, who remained seated.

He looked a little bit run over. I knew he was surrounded by the loneliness and I watched him with sadness. I lacked much power or words to comfort him. It was only after some wonderful songs that we both joined and got up. He could not remain sad in such a loving and friendly company for ever.

When he noticed the enormous, life-vibrant energy that only Queen music could produce in conjunction with a crowd of people singing, I think he forgot his personal pain. I could see pride in his face. He stood up and watched the band. Then he addressed me and made me come up onto the ledge above him to see better. I would not listen to anybody else, but from him it didn´t sound like an order. He wanted me to get the most out of it and it pleased me. Then we sat back and drank. Jim seemed to be getting cheerful and livelier. The more he drank, the more cheerful he was. The guys ordered him Red Bull with vodka. When I asked him if it was vodka, he claimed it was white lemonade! He put a warm glass of "vodka" on my hand, so I almost jumped out of my skin, which he thought was terribly funny.

Whatever he did, he looked at me as though I was the only person who knew what was behind his looks. His faces and funny grimaces reminded me of Freddie. He had a lot of subconsciously inherited poses and gestures from him. Even in his laughter I could detect an influence of Freddie's strong personality. He simply marked all people around him. It was not the same contagious and stormy laugh, but there was a spark of resemblance.

His niece Jacqueline, Valerie and Stephen, danced all the time on the ledge and Jim was pulling them and wrapping himself in between their legs, hugging them, clinging to them, and messing around like a little boy. It was a wonderful sight, as he was so happy and childish.

After some time, Jim lost himself in a crowd of concert goers, so I went to look for him. Without his company it felt such a sad place. It was as if he had fallen through the ground, which made me very nervous. Finally, I found him by the entrance table, where he was joking away with one old blonde, not too different from frivolous Barbara Valentin. I asked him for a photo together. At first he looked impenetrable but as soon as I threw a sad eye and smirked, he brightened up and agreed as if saying "You know you can, anything for you, darling"

His niece Valerie took our picture. He then whispered to me that he hopes I´ll send him some pictures later.

After that he announced that we are going back inside to listen to the band.

I saw them from close-up and I must say that it was much better to just hear them. They looked rather too comic with all their wigs. It was something that would make Freddie laugh too.

I told Jim that they don´t look very natural,which he agreed with, but he said he couldn´t complain about their music. He was totally right, because musically they weren´t bad and the singer had a very authentic voice.

Inside, everybody was dancing and Jim joined in and circled around them like a rogalo.

The whole pub vibrated with intense and loving energy. There was no one who would be bored. Jim then threw himself in the arms of his two nieces, who gently caressed him in his hair and embraced him. He let them take care of him, now vulnerable like a little lost child all of a sudden.

There was something deeply touching about it. He had closed his eyes and sadly lowered his head, as if his tears flowed deep inside, in his invisible world. I realized at this stage, how much he really loved Freddie. I was looking at him and I had a desire to caress him and comfort him but instead, I had to stand aside.

"You can have everything and yet feel alone", Freddie once said. But I was glad Jim had his family and friends around him, who cared and protected him. Jim was going through sorrow and joy,both at the same time, it seemed.

During one of his many shananigans, I caught him messing around with his niece's boyfriend.

He sat him on his knees and imitated sexual intercourse. It would seem offensive and utterly crazy to someone who didn´t know him. But we all did. Jim was laughing like crazy and when he finally looked at me, he seemed a little embarrassed by his behavior and gave me a look that said"I hope you won´t tell on me to Freddie"...but it was hard to take him seriously.

We both smiled conspiratorially at each other. In that sense, our relationship no matter how short-lived, was special. We understood one another in thoughts. He winked at me a couple of times, tapping my beer like an old buddy.

In one moment in particular, Jim leaned over me and whispered: "You as a fan have right to be crazy, but them" ... pointing at our dancing group of friends ... " they are fucked up", he said with smile and he began to knock his finger against his forehead. An international gesture that doesn´t need an interpreter!

Jim then went to the toilets for a while, and I, like a stray sheep, followed him through crowds of oblivious dancers. He was somewhat drunk at that time and barely retained a balance. He staggered a little like a broken tree. No surprise after god knows how many Red bulls and vodkas! I was bit afraid for him, so I supported him inconspicuously by both shoulders from behind. He went to the toilet and cared too little to even close the door behind him. If anyone was looking, he would see Jim Hutton pissing in a toilet bowl in his bright canary shirt.

At that moment they played the most touching song of all, These are the Days of our lives .... I stood by the door and listened, watching the band and waited for Jim. I don´t know why, perhaps because of the fate that brought me here, I suddenly felt terrible sorrow. I was sorry for Freddie and Jim. Tears poured into my eyes. I didn´t cry, but was very close to it. Jim suddenly appeared next to me and noticed my face. "What about those tears? I hope you don´t cry", but at this stage I was lost for words. His concern made me sad even more. Something inside me forced me to caress him. I hugged him gently around his neck and put my head on his shoulder for a moment. I wanted to let him know that I am very sorry about what happened to Freddie. He did not resist. He knew he wasn´t the only one in the world who was missing him. I looked into his eyes, and I told him a sentence that I didn´t know why I said, but I strongly felt it..."Jim, he's here, he IS here." His expression was rather confused at first. "Do you believe me?" ... I said this with a seriousness and a certain degree of self-assurance that he froze for a while. He looked thoughtful. He knew what I was talking about.

I seemed to only confirm his inner conviction. He didn´t say a word. He wiped my tear away with the edge of his hand and without warning, took me firmly by the hand and led me through crowds back to our friends. There was a lot of care and love in his touch. The music was just playing and Freddie just sang "I still love you" and I knew he did.

I didn´t want to leave, but I knew I said everything I needed to. I could not leave without saying goodbye. It would be a sin after all this to just disappear into eternity. I interrupted him from the conversation with someone else, leaned over the table and said, "Jim, I'm leaving now, so I want to say goodbye, it was great pleasure meeting you." I smiled as much as my heart allowed me to and shook his hand. He stared up and thought for a moment, and then, without any hesitance said, "We do not see each other for the last time." I didn´t know at this time how true his words were.

I thought I did not understand well, so I asked again, "sorry?" and he repeated patiently and more resolutely, "I shall surely see you again," while taking my hand into his hands and kissing it gently.

He left me in amazement. I stumbled out from there perplexed but still I could hear him talking about me to someone there. He probably said he hadn´t seen a bigger nutcase in a long time, assuming from his cute teddybear smile. Gosh I loved him so much!

The next day I learned from my friends that Jim was looking next morning for his jacket that he had forgotten in his car. Few days later, I've sent him the promised photographs. Jacquie confirmed that he called in to say he had received them allright.”

2001

“...And then I returned back to Ireland in 2004.

I had the opportunity to welcome Jim to my own home in Carlow sometime in 2006. He was Stephen´s surprise. When the door opened up, I didn´t see him at first.

Then his head popped out from the side of the door and with a laugh he emerged a bit later. He hugged me like we hadn´t seen each other for million years. What I felt at that moment was indescripable. My dear Jim back in my life and in my own house!

We all sat in the living room, Jim settled down on the sofa, I was sitting on the ground and absorbed the precious moments because I knew time spent with him was only borrowed time. Then we watched Queen videos and talked about Freddie as if he were in the next room. It was so surreal. Me and Jim agreed that our favorite video was Scandal, and he just added that Freddie didn´t like it very much because he couldn´t make any creative input in it, although he loved the song.

Then we talked about his illness, about him taking up to 40 pills a day to sustain his health and he also explained the difference between AIDS and HIV, as many people still didn´t know. We have talked so much and - above all - we laughed all night, almost at everything. It was so easy to succumb to his funny personality once again and to his heartfelt laughter. He made jokes about fancying my ex-boyfriend, whom he lied on top of on the sofa. Long time ago, I´ve sent him a letter explaining to him how Freddie has impacted my life. But I've forgotten I´ve ever written it and now I was faced with the horror that I actually have sent it. I hoped he has forgotten about it, but when Jim and I met in the corridor of our house, I couldn´t but apologize to him for that letter, and for being so daring. To my surprise, he looked at me softly with his tired eyes and assured me that my letter was absolutely fascinating. Then we were interrupted by Stephen, who was just leaving a toilet and the conversation was cut short at that point. Unfortunatelly I would never have the chance to find out what was the next thing he was about to say, because I noticed he wanted to continue, if he weren´t interrupted.

When we were saying goodbye at the door, he treated me as an old friend. He simply kissed me on the lips, which utterly shocked me and made me laugh at the same time.

He invited us back to his house to have a little party, but my ex-boyfriend was not in the perfect mood and so we politely declined, which I will forever regret!

About a year after that I bumped into Jim several times in the city where we both lived, or we exchanged text messages whenever I needed to advise what room flowers would be best for our new house. Sometimes I learnt about how he´s doing through my ex-boyfriend, who used to hang out with him and drink few pints in a night bar. Once my ex confessed how Jim told him that I was a great person and he should be happy to have me. They must have been talking about me!!!!

Then I met Jim one night in the nightclub, where he was with his friends. He spent most of his time sitting in the lounge smoking a cigarette, having fun with younger girls. Wherever he was, you heard his laughter. That night my ex-boyfriend arranged for Jim and me to have a dance together.

Jim was just dancing on the dancefloor with some older woman. I remember he had his jumper tied around his waist. I just got onto the dancefloor, he looked at me all serious and pulled me close to him. It was some tediously slow song that I can´t even remember, I just know that we were staggering from side to side like two handiccaped penguins and that made me laugh hysterically.

He was such a clown! Now, however, I consider this moment as one of the most precious memories of him. It was my night.

Back in 2009, I have learned that Jim was diagnosed with cancer. My ex-boyfriend told me how concerned Jim was when informing him. He said, he wept. At that time I didn´t know how serious the situation was and I hoped Jim will get better in no time. I believed the doctors would somehow help him out of it. I saw him a little later at work when he came to our restaurant for breakfast.

I almost served him as another customer, but when I realized it was him, I pulled myself back into the kitchen and let the other girls serve him. He never noticed. I was in such state of shock. I didn´t know what to do, how to act and what to say. He was so thin, just skin and bone. His face was sinking, his eyes full of pain, a small tube leading from his nose to the oxygen device he carried in his backpack and a small canvas hat on his head. I couldn´t believe this was Jim, whom I have remembered being so full of life and joy only half a year ago. I wanted to cry like never before. I also felt embarassed by my own cowardly reaction. I wished more than anything in my life to hug him and say I loved him. I wanted to wish him a happy Christmas. But I was scared of my own tears, which would not help him in his situation.

I wrote him a message on the phone, but he didn´t respond. And then I got the terrible news. Jim died and somehow I also missed his funeral. I took a first taxi and went at least to his months Mass and visited his grave, bringing him daffodils and little white lantern with candle. It was so hard for me. His relatives stood above his grave. I said my prayers in a minute of silence. The air didn´t move and the moon was full in the night sky. It was dark and cold all around but I didn´t care.

I wanted to see him laugh and mess around like he used to. It was as if another star had disappeared and fell to the earth. If only life could last forever.”

2006-2010

Credits to Seraphiel’s blog. Please don’t repost without credits.

#jim hutton

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