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t4tlawlight · 4 years ago

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YOU'RE AN AVENGER, A DEATH ANGEL. YOU KILL PEOPLE WHO ASK FOR IT, WHO DESERVE TO DIE. YOU'RE A WATCHDOG, A PROTECTOR OF THINGS DECENT. YOUR COMFORTS ARE SACRIFICED FOR EFFICIENCY -- YOU CAN'T DO WHAT HAS TO BE DONE WITH PEOPLE MOANING AND CLINGING TO YOU, YOU CAN'T STRIKE WITH POSSESSIONS WEIGHING YOU DOWN. YOU HAVE A CLEAR HEAD AND NO REGRETS. YOU CAN TAKE OUT ANYONE BECAUSE YOU'RE STRIPPED DOWN AND YOU DON'T DEPEND ON OR TRUST A SOUL. YOU ARE EFFECTIVE BECAUSE YOU DON'T LOVE ANYBODY OR ANYTHING. YOU'RE A ONE- MAN FORCE, THE PERFECT INSTRUMENT OF DESTINY.

– "INFLAMMATORY ESSAYS 5" by Jenny Holzer

(this is a companion piece to Love and Belonging, my early drama light analysis! [LINK] i heavily recommend reading it before continuing this analysis, as i reference events and ideas explained in that post.)

in my previous analysis of drama light, i focused on the events that led him to become the man we see in the beginning of the drama: a gentle, kind man who is underachieving but still brilliant, who takes a maternal role in his household after the death of his mother. This is all crucial to understanding Light’s character in the drama and how the events leading up to him becoming Kira change in line with his altered characterization, but that analysis only barely skimmed the surface of Light’s character development throughout the drama, and especially after L’s death.

the drama fandom--including me!--is somewhat guilty of making blanket statements about drama light’s morality as opposed to his manga counterpart, that drama light is kinder and gentler in comparison to manga light. this may be true early on, but i would argue that as the series progresses, drama light willingly and deliberately throws away his love and humanity just as much--if not more!--than his manga counterpart.

to understand what i mean it’s important to compare light’s relationship with his father between the adaptations.

in the manga, light grows up idolizing his father, loving and admiring him and wanting to follow in his footsteps as a police officer. his morality that leads to him ultimately becoming Kira comes from Soichiro, as does his dissatisfaction with the world as he sees his father work himself to the bone trying to eradicate crime that seems to never end.

there’s a lot more that can be said about the nature of their relationship and about how Light desperately seeks his father’s approval, but instead of typing out an entire analysis i’ll link you to this post by tumblr user mikami [LINK], which is a very good analysis of the two of them in the manga.

conversely, in the drama Light begins much the same, but Soichiro choosing to chase a criminal instead of being by his wife’s deathbed--leaving his children to witness their mother’s passing alone--strains Light’s relationship with him. Light has much of the same morals and worldview as manga Light, but now believes that his father’s morality is more or less worthless, since he had to give up his family to pursue justice.

Light: When my mother died when I was a kid, my father was off chasing a criminal… I thought my father’s form of justice couldn’t be worth much, if he had to sacrifice even his family to see it through.

– Episode 7

however, it’s important to note that while Light is cold with his father and resents his occupation, that does not mean that Light does not still love and idolize his father. he wants his father’s love and support, and he cares as deeply for him as does his manga counterpart. in fact, drama light only becomes kira out of a desire to protect his father--after his first, accidental murder, he throws away the Death Note and tries to forget about it. however, his father is taken hostage by a criminal who intends on seeking revenge for Soichiro putting him in jail years ago, and Light is forced to retrieve the note and write the criminal’s name to protect his father.

[photo: a zoomed in shot of the Death Note. Light is writing the name “Otoharada Kuro” in Japanese. the penmanship is shaky and nearly illegible from how hard Light’s hand is trembling.]

– Episode 1

Light is literally shaking with terror as he writes the name of the man about to kill his father.

and this is not something Light does lightly--after he saves his father and it’s announced that Otoharada is dead, Light is absolutely stricken with guilt and horror for murdering two people, including the man who was about to kill his father. he saved his father’s life at the price of another, because he loves his father--and his entire family--very deeply.

it’s also worth noting a slight difference between the manga and the drama; after the mock execution, drama Soichiro admits that he believed Light could be guilty and was prepared to die. Light--who at this point has no memory of being Kira and thus completely believes himself to be wrongly accused--does not blame his father for not trusting him. Light, who desperately wants his father’s approval, does not blame him in the slightest: instead, the subject of his anger is Kira himself for putting Soichiro in this position and making Soichiro suffer.

Light: I… I hate Kira. Kira, who made you suffer this way… I hate him so much. Soichiro: Light… Light: Please catch him. I believe that you can catch Kira, Dad.

[photo: Light and Soichiro in an abandoned parking garage. the two of them are crouching beside Soichiro’s car. Soichiro is hugging Light, who weakly raises his hands to hold his father in return.]

– Episode 6

the two of them embrace and weep before collecting themselves and returning to Countermeasures.

by this point in the story, it’s obvious that both versions of Light love Soichiro very much. Light is creating his “new world” for the good of humanity but also for the people he loves the most--his family.

later, the emotional death of manga Light comes after the passing of his father, which he never wanted nor planned for. he never wanted Soichiro to be in a position to get hurt and he is never, ever the same after Soichiro's death, especially because he never gains his father’s approval for his actions as Kira--in fact, Soichiro leaves him with an outright rejection of Kira entirely.

[panel 1: a close up of Soichiro’s eye. he looks like he’s in pain. the speech bubble above his head reads, “I still have the eyes. And according to that Shinigami… Ryuk, I can’t see the lifespan of someone who owns a notebook.

panel 2: Light is standing above his father’s prone body. Matsuda stands behind him, bandages on his face and arms. Soichiro continues, “Light, you’re not Kira… I’m so glad…” Light looks shocked in response, a speech bubble above his head reading only “!” Matsuda says, “O-of course he isn’t! You were still worried about that?"]

the fact that Light can never gain that approval leads to him becoming incredibly dissatisfied and simply going through the motions--it’s what leads to him treating other people like cogs in a machine that will listen to him without any free will of their own, which is what makes him not foresee that Mikami might take action of his own accord. this is how Light gets caught in the end.

in the drama, however, Light experiences more than just his father’s rejection. Soichiro confronts Light directly about being Kira, catching him in the act. this is, of course, Light’s worst case scenario--he does virtually everything he can to lie his way out of it, to get his father back on his side, but fails. Soichiro acknowledges the fact that it was his fault that Light turned out this way, and also that he failed to notice that Light was suffering up until now--and then begs Light to turn himself in, in a scene that echoes L’s confrontation with Light from a couple of episodes prior.

when Light refuses, Soichiro begins to write his own name in the book.

Light: No way. Dad… Stop it. Dad! Stop it! Dad! Soichiro: There’s a struggle going on in your soul right now, isn’t there? That’s what it means to take someone’s life. That’s the weight of a human life. Do you understand, Light? Light: If this suffering is the real thing, I really can’t forgive criminals. I realized it, Dad. Even someone like me… There’s something even I can do to serve the world. Soichiro: How does killing people serve the world?! Light: I’ve sacrificed a lot of things, too! You of all people must understand how I feel! We’re working for the same thing. To protect the peace for everyone. With that notebook, I can create a world without crime! I’m just like you! Soichiro: You’re wrong. Open your eyes, Light. Come back, Light.

– Episode 10

with this ultimate rejection of Light’s actions, Soichiro finishes writing his name and Light allows him to do so. it isn’t as though Light couldn’t have stopped him if he really wanted to, either; on one level, turning himself into the police as Soichiro requested would have saved his father. on another, we see him rip the Death Note from Soichiro’s dying hands moments later as his father attempts to burn the book. Light is perfectly capable of saving the book and only acts when the Note is in danger, not his beloved family member.

of course, we never see manga Light exactly in this position, either, and I can’t say that I think that manga Light would have turned himself in or physically ripped the Note from Soichiro’s hands. both Lights did virtually everything they could to never be in a situation where they had to choose between the safety of their family members and being Kira, and I doubt manga Light would have done well emotionally with Soichiro outright rejecting him, his actions, and his ideology.

however, their actions and behavior immediately after Soichiro’s death is extremely telling. when manga Light is rejected by his father, who died as a result of a plan gone awry, he is completely devastated.

[photo: a panel of Light Yagami screaming over his father’s body. tears are running down his face, and he yells, “Dad! Dad! Don’t you die, damn it!”]

he sheds tears--which are rare for manga Light--and he mourns over his father’s dead body for quite some time. as i said previously, he is never the same man again after his father’s death.

drama Light sheds tears as Soichiro writes his name and is clearly upset by his passing, but his mourning period is immediately interrupted by desperation to get the Note back. he spends Soichiro’s last moments wrestling with him for the Note, and once his father collapses he takes the note, wild-eyed, and holds it to his chest protectively. in this instant, he cares more about the safety of the book than his dead parent--because he had just chosen the notebook, and being Kira, over his father.

after Soichiro’s funeral, Light thinks this:

Light [internally]: Dad really did open my eyes. If I am to become a God, sacrifices are inevitable. No matter who it is that pursues Kira, I will erase them.

– Episode 10

this is Light implicitly saying that sacrificing his family members--sacrificing Soichiro, the man he began killing in order to save--is inevitable if they oppose Kira. of course, this is very similar to the way that manga Light distances himself from Soichiro after Soichiro’s death, to save him from the hurting that it caused him.

[photo: a panel of Light Yagami’s face, zoomed in close so we can only see one eye, his nose, and most of his mouth. He is scowling, most of his eye cast in shadow, and he’s sweating and panting. He asks, “Dad? Are you talking about Soichiro Yagami?”]

of course, all of this begs the question of how drama Light--who began a sweet, gentle boy who was more or less coerced into using the Death Note to begin with--got to a place that even manga Light didn’t have the chance to get to, where he was more willing to save the Death Note than his own father. it’s important to consider another relationship that drama Light has that’s much different from manga Light’s--his relationship to L.

manga light respects L's intelligence and sees him as an equal, as entertainment at times, but he doesn’t like him. not even during yotsuba arc, where they’re ostensibly on the same side--in fact, i would say yotsuba Light has more reason to dislike L, seeing as though he believes L to be falsely accusing him and having tortured him for virtually no reason. they're not actually friends--it’s a manipulation tactic. moreover, L sees him the same way. they were not friends and they both intended on killing each other until the bitter end.

by comparison, drama light and L's relationship starts that way--with the two of them wanting to kill each other, with a pretense of friendship that is actually an excuse to get close to each other to try and test for weaknesses--but the difference is that they, well, fall for their own bullshit. during yotsuba arc, Light’s memories are rewritten in such a way that he believes that L and light are genuinely on friendly terms, and L finds himself over the course of the arc going from respecting Light’s talents and thinking him as something interesting to genuinely wanting him to not be Kira and seeing him as a friend.

if you want to know more about L’s thought processes during the series and specifically the blue scene I recommend reading my analysis about him [LINK] but what is important to note is that L does not want to kill Light anymore by the time episode 8 rolls around. like Soichiro later will, he attempts to convince Light to confess--with the intention, we later find out, to potentially give him a way out. of course, Light doesn’t understand this and believes, for the moment, that it’s a fight to the death--so he writes L’s name in (what he believes to be) the Death Note.

this is intrinsically different from the way Light kills L in the manga. manga Light convinces someone else to do the dirty work and he is absolutely gleeful when L dies, gloating over his dying body--but up until this point L has made manga Light’s life an absolute hassle and expressed time and time again that he intends on executing Kira, who he believes to be Light. L wants to kill him, and they are not friends. while drama Light also believes it’s a “me-or-him” situation, he cannot deny that he actually likes L, that he wanted to be friends with him--he wanted, like Soichiro, for L to accept him and to be a part of the world Kira would create.

[photo: Light, cast in blue light, is bent over double. we’re looking at his face from below, from L’s point of view on the floor. his face is contorted with grief, face wet with tears and spit. He says, “I’d have wanted to be your friend forever.”]

– Episode 8

these are what Light believes to be his last words to L, so he has no reason to lie. he’s weeping as he says it, seeming absolutely heartbroken. this is the first time that Light kills--or attempts to kill--someone he cares about, and it’s the moment he decides to throw his humanity away. if he hadn’t cared so deeply for L before deciding to kill him, I don’t think the scene with Soichiro would have played out quite the same. Light even says it himself right before he writes L’s name:

Light: I can’t afford to lose to you. I’m creating a perfect world, without crime. To see that happen, I… L: Light… Light: I… I’ve decided there’s nothing I won’t do!

– Episode 8

these words are immediately followed by Light attempting to kill L. this is the fundamental moment that Light throws away his humanity, literally deciding that he would do anything for his new world, including killing his friends if they stand in his way. this culminates in him letting his father die and ripping the Note from his hands. he believes that the ends justify the means and that this is the only option he has.

it’s important to note that it isn’t that Light stopped loving his father, or stopped liking L--it isn’t that he lacks guilt over their deaths. it’s exactly the opposite. while their deaths--and the deaths of the Countermeasures team that he planned to take place, as well as the FBI and countless other people--are a necessary evil in order to make the world a better place, Light has to absolutely jump through hoops to justify it to himself and compartmentalize the guilt. as I said earlier, Light saying that Soichiro’s death was inevitable is a way to distance himself from the pain and guilt and rejection he feels, but as he’s dying that guilt cracks back open wide. when he sees that the Death Note is on fire, he panics and begins crawling towards it.

Light: Not yet. I can still do more. If I give up now… What was it all for?

– Episode 11

this is immediately followed by a flashback to Soichiro’s death, where Soichiro questions him about how killing people serves the world--after he crawls a little further, he flashes back again to L, recalling L’s desire to be friends with him.

these flashbacks go to show that Light feels a deep and profound guilt for killing both of them. he’s justified and rationalized it to himself as being for the good of the world--he chose being Kira over both of their lives. however, this means that if Kira fails, if he dies and the world goes right back to the way it was, then all of it was for nothing. he gets himself into a situation where he has to keep killing and killing people he cares about because if he stops then it means that all of it was for nothing.

it’s honestly an incredibly sad situation, that someone so full of kindness would become ultimately cold-hearted in an effort to cope with guilt.

#death note #death note drama #light yagami #soichiro yagami #death note analysis

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into-the-afterlife · 4 years ago

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Why I Ship Johnny/Female V: Part 2

[Part 1] [Part 2]

This is Part 2 of my essay series on why I ship Johnny and female V. Back in part 1, I covered why I ship female V specifically with Johnny and not male V, as well as some thoughts on Johnny’s sexuality. This time, I’m looking at Johnny himself. (Content warning: there is some discussion of rape and how rape is handled in fiction.)

Johnny, ambiguity and age-old romantic tropes

Look, I’m just going to come out and say this: part of my interest in this ship is thirsting over Johnny. And when I’m interested in something, whether it’s an intellectual, creative or sexual interest, I like to do what I always do – analyse it to death. So what is it about the actor, the performance and the character that makes Johnny as attractive as he is?

Keanu Reeves himself, obviously, can’t be ignored here. He has a gorgeous face and voice, but crucially, he’s distinctively beautiful. Obviously, everyone has the right to be into what they’re into, and I don’t want to shame anyone for their tastes. But I do not understand people who are into the blandly beautiful. Sure, there’s nothing wrong about, let’s say, Chris Evans. But what’s right about him? Where are the snags that catch your attention and hold it? Where’s the life?

Reeves, meanwhile, is attractive because he’s unusual. He has long, dark hair, but he’s regularly photographed at public events with it mussed-up. He has a chiselled face, but his cheekbones are high enough that he looks alien. He has all the charisma of any Hollywood actor, but, whether this is him as he is or an especially well-calculated image choice, it comes off as genuine. When watching interviews with him, you feel less in the presence of a star and more an especially fascinating stranger at a party, one who, despite bursting with witticisms and stories, somehow wants to talk to you most of all.

There’s also an element of age ambiguity here. Reeves is in his fifties, and while age suits his looks better than youth did, it shows. Meanwhile, Johnny the character is in his thirties when he dies, and to match this, the animators smooth out Reeves’ face and darken his beard. They also give Johnny the (unrealistic but glorious) organic arms of a dedicated bodybuilder. So what Johnny ends up with is the presence, confidence and charisma of an older guy, combined with the physicality of someone younger. It’s potent, to say the least. It also adds to Johnny’s uncanniness as a character. He’s caught between maturity and youth, life and death, humanity and machine; he’s hard to pinpoint no matter where you look. And whether you express this academia-style, as, ‘the gothic associates uncanniness with sexuality’, or internet-style, as, ‘I’m a monster/robotfucker’, this is, as the kids say, pretty damn hot.

This uncanniness, as well as Reeves’ looks and performance, also offset some of the more unlikeable aspects of Johnny’s personality. This is best illustrated by the concept art created for Johnny before Reeves was brought on board. (Found courtesy of the lovely folks at r/LowSodiumCyberpunk.)

As you can see, they had a lot of Johnny’s look already nailed down. But this makes the differences all the more startling. This Johnny looks like he’s been dragged through the wringer. His hair is messier, and he seems to be getting premature wrinkles and balding. He’s strung-out, with a genuinely hopeless cast to his face. His look is also a lot more dated. While our Johnny has elements of the old rocker, the jean jacket, bandana, V-necked black jumper and aviators clipped to the tank top root this Johnny inescapably in 1980s music and fashion.

Why is all this relevant to shipping Johnny with V? Partially because I’m shallow, I’m not going to lie. But it’s also because making Johnny look like this would have made him much more obviously an intrusion. A guy dressed like this next to 2077’s booty shorts and space buns is like a ghost in a ballgown next to a woman in jeans. He’s not just out of time; he’s been irrevocably left behind. Johnny’s face here also has much less in the way of possibility. Where our Johnny says, ‘maybe your life would be better if you listened to me’, this Johnny screams, ‘my way is hopeless, but you can’t ignore it’. It’s leaning much more into the tragic aspects of Johnny’s character and of the genre of cyberpunk. And don’t get me wrong – I love that artwork, and think that angle would be an interesting artistic choice.

But making Johnny a tragic intrusion like this removes the element of seduction, so to speak, from his character. What makes Johnny attractive, ideologically, sexually and romantically, is a balance of certainty and uncertainty. On the surface, he’s passionately, blazingly certain of his politics, his music and himself. If you’re taking a leap of faith, whether that’s fighting against the corpos that rule your life or hopping into bed with an engram, what draws you to it is the kind of confidence that makes you doubt your own certainties. Yet too much of that can be off-putting. Nobody wants a partner who’s so cocksure (pardon the pun) that they don’t listen to what you want, and nobody wants a political ally who’s gone so far into their own rhetoric that they can’t convince those outside it.

Therefore, the common factor across all the ways Reeves’ looks impact our perception of Johnny is the balancing of two seemingly opposing things. Keep that in mind, because it only gets more relevant the deeper into this ship, and Johnny’s attractiveness, we go.

Of course, Reeves’ looks are far from the only thing he brings to the table. His acting, across body language, facial expressions and voice acting, is incredible. I want to take a look at his voice acting, as well as his voice generally, first.

I’m not familiar enough with the subtleties of American accents to pinpoint why, but Reeves’ accent sounds slightly different to the more generic accents of other famous actors. Perhaps it’s because he’s Canadian. Either way, his consonants are less harsh on the ear than other A-list actors, his vowels less elongated. He speaks slowly, sounding as if he just woke up. His voice is mellow and soothing; it’s the sort of sound you could take a bath in.

(For reference purposes, I’m listening to this Cyberpunk trailer as I write this, as well as, um, this video that I’ve watched far too many times. XD)

Obviously, to play Johnny he has to modify that laid-back aspect of his voice. But it��s interesting how his natural voice and his ‘Johnny’ voice bounce off each other. Reeves is able to pull off a much more belligerent Johnny than many actors could, precisely because of that laid-back quality his natural voice has. Think of that ‘impressive cock’ line. It’s made as funny as it is because of the total lack of shame in how Reeves delivers it. But in the mouth of an actor like, let’s say, Robert Downey Jr, that level of shamelessness would just come off as annoying. Reeves uses his natural voice to amp up Johnny’s, for lack of a better word, Chad-ness, far beyond the place another actor could manage. Because he has that base of softness, he can go hard on Johnny’s arrogance.

Why is this relevant to Johnny’s attractiveness as a character, as well as why Johnny/F!V are a fascinating ship? To develop a character well, you have to have an extremely solid base to start on – and that base is where a lot of writing and acting falls down. The audience has to know intimately what a character is usually like, or who they seem to be, before burrowing into the character further is made effective. That equal hard/soft approach means that when Johnny does soften later in the game, it seems both unexpected and inevitable. Even as the harsh tone and words were conveying one thing, that softness underneath was always conveying another. But the fact that Reeves can go hard on the arrogance makes that change much more impactful than it would be in another character. Once again, we’re seeing an equal balance of two seemingly opposing qualities, not openly leaning towards one or the other.

There’s also some aspects of the body language Reeves and the animators give to Johnny I’d like to focus in on. While I’m not an actor, nor am I a psychologist, and therefore am likely to have missed things, there were a few things I noticed when going through footage of Johnny in pivotal scenes. (If you spot something I haven’t talked about, please reply or reblog! I’d love to get a back-and-forth discussion going.)

Over and over again, Johnny’s body language has two layers. There’s what I’m calling the ‘douchebag’ layer, which is where Johnny seems insultingly relaxed. The scene when V and Johnny first meet, as well as the scene at the diner, have two great examples of this. Johnny gets into V’s space, but it’s slow, catlike. There’s no urgency when he leans in, nor when he stands over V.

Similarly, at the diner, he tells V he doesn’t want to kill her anymore – something pivotally important for their relationship and the plot - while putting his arms behind his head and his feet up on the table. It communicates, at least on the surface, a real sense of disrespect. ‘I don’t give a shit’, says his posture, ‘whether you hate and fear me or not’. His threatening slowness when they first meet, meanwhile, communicates that he doesn’t think V is a competent opponent. Why should he hurry if he can get her any time?

At least, that’s what it looks like. Take a look from 9:40 onwards here. Sure, he swings his legs up on the table – but not before hurrying into the diner booth and tapping his fingers rapidly on the table. Even when he gets into that relaxed posture, he’s bouncing his leg the entire time. Those catlike movements I talked about when they first meet? If you look from 5:42 here, they’re there. But they’re also interspersed with banging his head incessantly against the wall, pacing back and forth and glitching unpredictably all around the room.

This is where the second layer of Johnny’s body language comes in. Underneath all that casual condescension, he communicates constant, frenetic energy, even anxiety. Even in his default, idle animations, it’s extremely rarely that Johnny communicates real coolness and calm. He covers constantly racing thoughts and feelings with a slick persona.

What this does is very like the hard/soft balance of the voice acting I talked about earlier. Because the ‘douchebag’ layer of body language is the most obvious one, you pick up on that first. But the other layer is there throughout Johnny’s entire arc, and it goes into your brain on a much more subconscious level. Then, when Johnny’s guard does come down, it seems like a natural development of his character while still being a surprise. Once again, there’s that knife-edge balance between two disparate qualities. And for me, attraction always lies in the space between.

There’s also something highly sexual about the way he gets into V’s space when they first meet, the way he stands over her. When first playing the scene where they first meet, it felt like watching the moments before an act of rape. You see him first as he leans over you while you’re still in bed. He beats you to the ground, smashes your head into the window, and towers over you while you’re collapsed on the floor. Given the context of him taking over your body, the overtones are unmistakeable.

But again, crucially, that frantic body language and his lines are the complete opposite of how someone behaves when making the kind of power play that rape is. The pacing, the panicked words and the fact that he’s caught off guard all communicate disempowerment. While it’s still a violent, frightening scene, it’s not a monstrous one.

Why is that relevant to discussing Johnny’s attractiveness, and Johnny/V? Because rape fantasies and male domination are some of the oldest tropes in the book for M/F romantic arcs. Done properly, they play on desires of sexual submission without explicitly acknowledging the kink, depict the eroticism of that liminal space between humanity and monstrosity I talked about earlier and allow you to fantasise about being deeply wanted. Of course, that last bit isn’t a factual depiction of rape in real life. But in the fantasy, the story, the idea of being ravished is partially about being special, being so uniquely attractive that the guy loses all control of himself. If you have a more conservative or repressed view of your sexuality, the ravishment/rape fantasy also allows you to fantasise about sex without seeing yourself as a slut. (This post is a great look at that last idea as applied to the movie Labyrinth, if you want to find out more.)

The idea of sexualised monstrosity is also everywhere in the tropes used to characterise Johnny. He’s a troubled rockstar, an angst-ridden artist who died tragically young, a violent political rebel, part human and part supernatural creature, a charismatic, cocky, seemingly heartless guy, who just might have a heart if you look deep enough. What all these tropes have in common is the promise of both reassuring humanity and fascinating, exciting monstrosity.

Reeves’ and Johnny’s looks combine strangeness and humanity. Reeves’ voice acting moves between soaring arrogance and languid softness. Johnny’s body language combines fear and overconfidence. And the use of age-old romantic tropes in an unexpected context, as well as the use of these specific romantic tropes, knit all the effects of the other things together to create that balance between the human and the strange. He’s unusual enough to be interesting, human enough to seem real and associated with all our cultural symbolism of an attractive man. With all that going on, how could you not find him hot as hell?

But the thing about these tropes is, they’re also so common they’re clichéd. Not just in fandom, but all across Western media and art. So what lifts Johnny and Johnny/V out of being something generic? What makes them so fascinating that I’ve written thousands of words about them? What, in short, makes them different?

That’s what I’ll go into next time.

[Part 1] [Part 2]

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nonartisticbooknerd · 4 years ago

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i notice you ship Kacchako- and there's nothing wrong with that but why? (note I haven't seen mha) from what I know, bakugou is a huge asshole who bullied deku a lot, while uraraka seems to be a nice person- i just wanna know why you ship them lol

oh BOY here comes the essay.

Please note that this why I ship kacchako. This is not meant to convince anyone to ship kacchako, but simply my reasons as to why I like these two characters together.

To start off I will openly admit that yes, Bakugou is an asshole. He bullied Deku a lot (probably due to that wonderful inferiority/superiority complex he’s got going on) and in general, is pretty loud and rude to everyone. He makes it a point to let everyone know that they are beneath him and goes out of his way to prove that he’s the best and no one could even hope to compare.

Meanwhile, Uraraka is the exact opposite: sweet, bubbly, and very kind to everyone. She actually wants to be a hero for the money to help her parents out bc she comes from a poor family (which I LOVE but that’s a topic for another meta). She never tries to prove herself to anyone as a result, and just focuses on trying to learn to be the best hero possible (because the better you are, the more money you make).

The most notable difference is their relationship with Deku (and actually this is one of my reasons for shipping them but we’ll get to that). Bakugou was Deku’s former friend and he has a strong dislike toward Deku, stemming from an unhealthy need to prove his superiority in every respect over Deku. Uraraka, on the other hand, is one of Deku’s new and close friends, and they get along really well.

So why do I ship kacchako? Mutual respect, understanding, and potential character growth. Explanation of that below, with manga screencaps.

1. Mutual Respect

This is the major point of their ship for me and it stems from their fight in the Sports Festival.

It’s quite obvious that Uraraka acknowledges Bakugou’s strength, after all, he’s seen as a powerhouse by everyone, and she repeatedly comments on his strength. But it takes a lot to get Bakugou to acknowledge someone. And with Uraraka, he does.

Aizawa just outright says it. Bakugou goes into the fight knowing that Uraraka is an opponent he needs to be wary of because she made it to the final round. Bakugou doesn’t see the small and sweet bubbly girl everyone else in the crowd is seeing, what he sees is an opponent, and Uraraka notices that. And just before launching her final attack, she thanks him.

Actually his reaction to her thanking him is one I love because we’ve never seen that kind of caught-off-guard expression on him before until this moment. To me, it seems that he couldn’t even imagine not taking her seriously because as mentioned before, she made it to the final round so in his mind she has to be strong to do that, and her thanking him for it is making him go “huh? what are you even thanking me for?”.

For her final attack, she drops a meteor shower on his head, he blows it away, and then we get this panel.

This is the first time in the manga that Bakugou acknowledges that someone nearly took him out. His hand is pounding from Quirk overuse and it’s the first time we see an adverse effect of his Quirk, the blowback from using too strong of an explosion. But more important is the fact that he says “that was close”, explicitly acknowledging that she nearly took him out. Respect.

So then after that Uraraka gets up and rushes at him again to attack, even though she’s clearly shown to be at her limit, and we get this from Bakugou:

He calls her by name. That’s incredibly important.

Throughout the manga, Bakugou uses nicknames (Deku, Shitty Hair, Flat Face etc.) to keep people at a distance and let them know he doesn’t give a shit about them. Keep in mind that before, he’d used a nickname for Uraraka, calling her Round Face right at the beginning of the fight. But now that she’s driven him to the limit he knows this girl is strong. And here, when he calls her by her name, he’s acknowledging her and her strength. This is the first person in class 1-A that he calls by name (Kirishima also eventually graduates from Shitty Hair to Kirishima, but that’s way later). After this, he doesn’t go back to using Round Face for her either. He keeps using her name when he refers to her, even in his head.

So Uraraka, at her limit, collapses before she even reaches Bakugou and he’s clearly shaken up by that. He was expecting the fight he’d been dreaming of, where he could give his all and fight an opponent that he genuinely respected and saw as strong, and then she collapsed. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it was a look of concern, I think it was more of mixed disappointment and shock.

When he re-enters the stands, all his classmates comment on the fight as he goes to sit down. A classmate (Kaminari) says something along the lines of “I can’t believe you could bring yourself to go so hard against such a fragile/small girl”. And in response comes the single line that was catalyst for me shipping kacchako. “Where do you see fragile?”

This is the first time he’s defended someone other than himself or All Might in this series. It just goes to show that he really does acknowledge Uraraka and her strength, to the point that he’s willing to speak up and say that to others, albeit in a indirect way.

Wayyy later he continues to respect her!

This is part of a page spread of characters introductions as given by Bakugou and Uraraka’s is the only vaguely positive character introduction Bakugou gives. Everyone else gets something kind of aggressive and along the lines of ‘I’ll beat you’ or ‘you’re weak’ and then Uraraka gets ‘her guts and roundness are acceptable’. Other translations say “her guts and roundness are respectable’ and I’m not sure which is correct, but either way, respect!!

The fact that one of the times he was smiling during a fight was against Uraraka. If he only smiles when fighting people he consider to be “towering walls” aka challenges, he must have seen Uraraka as one. Further proof of respect!

Over and over in that Sports Festival fight and then after, Horikoshi makes it a point to establish that Bakugou respects Uraraka’s strength. And that’s a major reason that I ship them. I like that dynamic of two people knowing that the other can kick major ass and respecting the hell out of them for it, especially if one character doesn’t look like they can kick ass.

2. Understanding

This goes a little bit more from Uraraka to Bakugou than the other way around, to be honest, but it’s a reason I ship them all the same. This is shown most clearly in the post- midterm exams omake (which is only in the manga and not the anime).

I love this omake so much because first of all, it reveals that Uraraka watches Bakugou from across the classroom closely enough to pick up on changes in his mood (as evidenced when she says “I sensed your Bakurage Aura” to him) and second, it reveals that she can pick up on changes in his emotional state easily.

But the most important part of that omake is this panel.

This is huge.

The way she outright says that Bakugou is terrified of Izuku’s potential development shows a deep understanding of Bakugou’s emotions and mental state that’s very unique. We never see anything like this level of understanding from any of their other classmates in direct relation to Bakugou. When she says “you act all menacing”, it shows that she knows that Bakugou’s yelling and bluster is an act put on the distance Izuku because he’s scared of him.

This revelation wasn’t revealed to Deku and All Might until Deku v. Kacchan 2 when Bakugou told the two of them what he was feeling in terms that they could understand. And this was way before this, right after the midterm exams.

She follows this up by asking him to repair his relationship with Deku and be nicer to him. They hadn’t even interacted much, so the fact that she noticed this in the first place and then felt comfortable enough to tell him that to his face says a lot about how she understands him and is comfortable around him.

Bakugou is completely taken aback by this and sit and listens to her and lets her finish before yelling at her, which is big because if he didn’t respect what she had to say, he would have just cut her off and left, but he didn’t. That respect comes back into play.

So Uraraka genuinely gets Bakugou, both emotionally and mentally, and isn’t afraid to tell him about her observations, and that’s another big plus for me. I love how Uraraka can see right through him and catch him off guard every time they interact meaningfully. That deep understanding is an important part of any relationship, and the fact that she can analyze him like this, despite not being a close friend to him was interesting to me because of the potential for character development.

3. Character Development (both canon and potential)

Character development is a big thing for me when it comes to ships. I tend to really like ships that change a character for the better in some way or the other.

The Sports Festival fight changed the both of them. When Bakugou fought Todoroki and told him to give it his all, the speech bubble placement implies he was thinking of his fight with Uraraka when he said that. She’s his standard for a good fight now.

On the other end, Bakugou helped Uraraka realize that she didn’t need to exclusively focus on rescue with her Quirk and she takes an internship under Gunhead as a result, growing her character in a major way. Those Gunhead martial arts get used a lot later on by her, and none of that would have happened if her fight with Bakugou hadn’t happened. Overall, the Sports Festival fight was important to both their character arcs and I love that.

From the understanding part comes more possibility for character development. This is where their differing relationships with Deku come into play. One admires him and the other is scared of his growth. With her understanding of Bakugou and his relationship with Deku, Uraraka could genuinely help repair their relationship.

Also them as training partners! Not only do their Quirks have the potential for incredible compatibility (zero-gravity and explosions = human rockets/missiles??) but they could help the other with new skills. Uraraka could teach Bakugou Gunhead martial arts and help him improve his hand-to-hand Quirkless combat, Bakugou could help Uraraka with comabt awareness and increasing her power. He’s probably also got some ideas for creative applications of her Quirk. Make them training buddies, Horikoshi, I beg of you.

4. Other Things

Uraraka is completely chill with his foul-mouthed nature! She actually finds it even a little funny.

THE WAY SHE’S JUST NOT AT ALL SCARED TO THROW DOWN WITH HIM!! In the post midterms omake she even matches the Bakurage face at the end! She doesn’t take his shit at all and is 100% ready to fight again.

The chocolate manju scene from the war arc is hilarious to me because she’s comfortable enough around him to lightly reprimand him and the way he knows that she’s a foodie and wants to try the chocolate manju is really cute to me.

---

Of course, everything I said can also be platonically interpreted. I would just love for them to be friends in canon, and really, that’s what all of this logically leads to. I just like to dream about it slowly growing into romance during their pro hero years.

#you noticed more like your dash got flooded bc of me rip #kacchako #bakugou katsuki #uraraka ochako #I literally love this ship so much and think about them every day can you tell

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planetesastraea · 4 years ago

Text

On the tip of his tongue

Read Part 1: On the Tip of his Fingers

Geraskier, Modern AU - Explicit - 10 179 words - Warnings: none

Character study, developing relationship, banter, feelings, Geralt vs words, bisexual!Geralt, bottom!Geralt, top!Jaskier, first time, handjobs, blowjobs, anal sex. Also contains pizza (mentioned)

Betaed by the wonderful @oxbridge-quality-fanfiction-co

Read on AO3

That morning Jaskier got woken up by a soft but firm hand on his shoulder and a husky voice saying his name.

“Hmmf?” was his very articulate reply, definitely worthy of the Creative Writing and Composition in Medieval Times professor he was. “Three words or less,” he would always say to motivate his students to answer questions during class and to start a conversation. Damn, they would have been proud.

“I gotta go,” the deep voice whispered and the previous evening suddenly came back to Jaskier. Geralt. Wow. Geralt . He sat up and blinked a few times before realising his eyes were open but the sun wasn’t up yet. Geralt was but a silhouette in the dark, his smell a mix of long-forgotten aftershave and well remembered sex.

“Mmokay,” Jaskier mumbled, rubbing one eye with his palm. “Thanks for telling me,” he said sleepily. There was a pause and he realised the sentence didn’t land well.

“Sorry. Didn’t want to sneak out,” Geralt replied tightly.

“Yeano, yeah- I meant it. Sorry. Me,” Jaskier said, pointing towards his own face in the dark, and thus proving the point to no one but himself, “not a morning person.”

Geralt snorted softly. Jaskier was overcome with a powerful wave of fondness and a guttural need to reach out and kiss him. Gods bless adorable bi himbos at law.

“I should get going,” Geralt said and Jaskier thought he heard some hesitation in his voice. The mattress dipped slightly as Geralt moved to stand up, and Jaskier reached out blindly. His hand found the inside of Geralt’s elbow and then slid down softly to the man’s wrist, finding his palm.

“Wait,” Jaskier said and Geralt waited. Then it dawned on him that he was supposed to say something . “Do you want to… see me again?” he offered, truly bringing his A-game as the (supposedly) most romantic man in the continent. (He was not boasting. It had simply been brought to his attention by many of his exes, and who was he to question the opinion of the people?) He tried not to sound too hopeful but it was too early in the morning and his acting skills needed a warm-up. After all, one couldn’t just naturally wake up that good.

The silence stretched in a way that made him uncomfortable, especially since Geralt was practically invisible in front of him. Geralt’s fingers brushed his and something in his chest relaxed, but only for a moment.

“I can’t,” Geralt started, making Jaskier’s heart drop, “make promises.”

And okay that wasn’t the worst he could have said but also - uh what ? “Okay? Well I- I’m not asking you to?”

“Hmm.”

“Geralt, I- I had a really nice time with you, you know? And I’d really like to have more… nice times with you. And not just sex, I mean, yes, sex was fantastic, it was , but also, well- what I mean is, I don’t expect you to like, abandon your life or whatever, I just-” he was running out of breath. “Gosh I’m talking too much again, fuck, please, say something? I’m getting zero feedback here and you have to know I’m gonna keep talking until you cut me off-”

“Sorry,” Geralt sighed, his fingers threading between Jaskier’s. “It’s just- This is… I haven’t been with someone in a while and,” he said with hesitation and left the sentence unfinished.

And never with a man , Jaskier thought, pretty sure of what was coming next. “Right,” he said, feeling his throat tighten. Not like he wasn’t used to falling for people who just didn’t have the same life plan- or day plan , even.

“But I think I would,” Geralt said, “like to see you again, I mean.”

“Wait, what?“ Jaskier’s brain derailed.

“I’d like to see you again?” Geralt repeated and it sounded even better the second time.

“Oh.”

"I… had a nice time, too.”

“Oh. Good,” Jaskier whispered, relief washing over him and unlocking the door to yearning. He moved forward, closer to Geralt, his hand sliding up to his shoulder, finding his cheek and feeling the beginning of a stubble under his fingers. “Good,” Jaskier murmured again. Feeling Geralt lean into him was the best reward. He moved his head closer and his nose rubbed softly against Geralt’s, the intimacy sweeter than some of the sex he’d had in the past.

Geralt inclined his head slightly and pressed a chaste, tender kiss against Jaskier’s lips.

Once they parted, phone numbers were exchanged and the soft wish of getting in touch soon was expressed - or, rather, as Jaskier put it as he walked Geralt to the door, “in touch and, well, in touch .” A freaking poet.

The morning after they “had a milkshake” - as Jaskier nicknamed their first close encounter - Geralt had gone home right before sunrise to find Eskel wide awake, sitting on the living room couch, a book on his lap. Eskel had looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and pressed his lips together to suppress a smile. “Coffee?” was all he had said and Geralt had been oh so grateful.

In the days that followed, he learned a bit more about Jaskier. He taught both poetry and musicology at university, gave private lessons, and performed with his band from time to time. Spring meant preparing finals, helping students to rehearse for auditions, and getting ready for the upcoming festivals The Bard would participate in. Between his schedule and Geralt’s, over a month had gone before they saw each other in the flesh again. But texting? Texting was definitely a Jaskier thing.

A couple of hours after Geralt had left, Jaskier had sent him a text saying “my bed misses you” . Geralt had promptly walked from one meeting to another, only realising at 6.30 pm during a phone call from Assengard, as he caught sight of the restaurant from across the street, that he had left Jaskier hanging. He tried to think of something clever on his way to pick Ciri up from her fencing class. To his surprise, his idea had worked very well on Jaskier.

Of course, as with most things concerning Jaskier, Geralt quickly discovered, it was prone to get out of hand. The man had decided that “the milkshake” would become “a thing”. The fact that Geralt’s favourite order at Denise’s included a vanilla milkshake with cream on top was apparently hilarious for reasons Geralt could not understand.

Since then, Geralt would receive texts from Jaskier every few days, ranging from “thinking of u” to “which one of these says ‘I am a 100%-responsible adult person who will turn your child into a virtuoso if you allow me to teach them?’” with a picture of two button-down shirts attached.

Geralt had left him on read , the bastard.

After the six most frustrating weeks of his life - yes, more frustrating than the whole summer he spent sharing a flat with a Spanish model who had very loud, very heterosexual sex on the other side of their paper-thin, shared bedroom wall - Jaskier finally got his hands back on his favourite lawyer’s ass.

They had agreed Geralt would meet him at his place that Friday after work. And so, Jaskier spent the afternoon trying to convince himself he could mark students’ essays, and was absolutely not in the hellish head-space where nervousness meets horniness. (He made it through five so he counted it as a win.)

He had changed outfits three times in two hours, and had promised Essi he absolutely was not falling for some seemingly perfect person who would then turn out to have a secret wife, three children and a dog (“Well since you’re asking, he has a very public ex-wife, one daughter, and a horse.” “A horse?” “Yup.” “What the hell?” “I have no fucking clue.”)

Jaskier was busy adjusting a sofa pillow to make it appear tidy-but-casual when the bell rang, making him jump out of his skin.

When he opened the door, Geralt looked like he was two seconds away from running back down the stairs and disappearing forever in some mysterious vineyard near Toussaint. Geralt, being the absolute asshole that he was, also looked like a fucking god amongst humans so Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of him once again. He had almost forgotten how stunning the man was.

“Hi,” Geralt said.

Jaskier shook himself out of his dreamy smitten state and felt a tingle in his cheeks as he blushed. “Hey, come on in,” he said, waving the man inside.

Geralt had his hair tied in a casual bun and was wearing a black winter coat way above Jaskier’s pay grade. Gods, what a sight. Jaskier was fucked .

“Are you-”

“So how’s-”

They both started and stopped at the same time, which made Jaskier laugh and Geralt shake his head as he looked away, a side of his mouth rising into a smile. Boy, Jaskier thought, if Geralt was half as fond of him as he was of Geralt, they’d be married in three years, move to a farm in five, and adopt every stray dog in the area a year after that at the latest.

“Can I take your coat?” Jaskier offered.

As Geralt nodded, Jaskier got his hands on the lapels of Geralt’s coat, fingers absent-mindedly pressing against Geralt’s chest, feeling the soft wool, and the strong pecs underneath all the layers. A moment passed and he realised Geralt hadn’t moved an inch. He stopped staring at his own hand and, as he looked up, realised Geralt was looking at him. Or more like, looking at his mouth.

There was a beat and they both moved forward, catching each other’s lips.

“Fuck, is it ok to say I’ve missed you?” Jaskier breathed between two kisses.

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, pushing Jaskier against the door and leaving his lips to kiss and suck the skin of his neck.

“Ah, okay, I’ll take that as a yes,” he half-moaned and got Geralt’s mouth back against his, kissing like he just couldn’t get enough- because he couldn’t. Geralt got rid of his coat, letting it fall onto the floor.

“M-maybe we should take a second to hang it. It looks expensive.”

“It’s a gift from my ex,” Geralt mumbled against Jaskier’s skin, biting tentatively at his Adam’s apple.

“Or we could stomp all over it,” Jaskier deadpanned. Geralt laughed against his throat and Jaskier felt it resonate through his chest.

“So you’re the possessive kind, then?”

“Uh,” Jaskier bit his lip, “only if that turns you on.”

Geralt kissed a line up to Jaskier’s ear and caressed him through his trousers as he nibbled at his earlobe. In the softest, most quiet whisper, he murmured: “It does.”

Jaskier groaned with pleasure and Geralt kissed him in earnest, his hand still fondling the man’s inseam. He pressed his pelvis against Jaskier’s and both moaned from the supplementary friction.

“Let me try something?” Geralt asked against Jaskier’s lips before promptly getting down onto his knees.

“Oh, wow, okay,” Jaskier gasped as Geralt went straight for his belt. “Ah- w-wait, you- you sure?”

Geralt rolled his eyes, undoing the man’s button and zipper until Jaskier’s hands came to rest softly over his.

“No, I’m serious, you don’t have to.”

"I know,” Geralt answered, looking up at him. “I want to.”

“Okay. Okay. Just stop if it’s not good with you, right?”

“Right.”

He pulled Jaskier’s trousers down, not wasting any time. The curved line of his hardening cock was obvious under his underwear and Geralt slowed down, caressing the back of Jaskier’s thigh with one hand, the other moving up to his crotch. He palmed Jaskier through his boxer briefs (his navy blue boxer briefs) and was delighted to see him try to control his breathing through the surging wave of desire.

“Take them off for me?” Geralt asked, his voice rough with arousal.

Jaskier breathed out shakingly and slid his thumbs under the waistband, pulling his underwear down under Geralt’s relentless attention. Unable to stop himself, Jaskier took his own cock in hand and stroked himself, humming with pleasure with the first movement of his wrist. Geralt was sitting on his ankles, mesmerised.

“You like watching?” Jaskier asked, and even though the answer was pretty obvious, Geralt didn’t say it out loud. He raised to his knees, kissing the inside of Jaskier’s thighs, every breath softly tickling Jaskier’s skin, the hand maintaining its rhythm.

Moving upwards, Geralt’s tongue darted out to lick Jaskier’s balls, surprising him so much the back of his head hit the door, generating a moan which turned into a wince and then back into a moan again. Geralt’s smile shaped the kiss he pressed on Jaskier’s thigh as his fingers brushed through the man’s pubic hair, and slid up to find Jaskier’s hand, slowing it down.

Jaskier felt Geralt’s hot breath coming closer to his cock and had to bite his lower lip when the other man’s lips brushed against his fingers, kissing them one by one, silently asking him to let go. Jaskier didn’t need much convincing until, of course, fuck his goddamn unstoppable brain, a thought occurred to him.

“Wait!” he exclaimed and, at least, was blessed with the sight of Geralt looking up at him with surprise, his lips apart, tongue visible, and… Fuck, he looked so innocent and yet devilishly hot like this.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Just- safety, right? You can, uh, get STIs. From, you know, sucking off someone unprotected. So you should be safe, you know.”

“Uh,” Geralt frowned. “Do you have STIs I should worry about?”

“No, I’m clean. I just mean, you know, in general.”

“I don’t need sex ed, Jaskier.”

“I know,“ he said, unconvincingly. "I’m just saying. Cause, like, it matters, and, you… well, you know.”

“I know,” he nodded even though he didn’t really. “Anything else?” he asked, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“Well, you shouldn’t take my word for it.”

“What?” Well, he only had himself to blame, right? He did ask.

“That I’m clean. I mean you can’t take people’s word for it, sometimes people just-”

“ Jaskier. I’ve slept with strangers before,” Geralt said bluntly, missing the brief pained look on Jaskier’s face at being classified as a stranger . “You’re clean. I’m clean. If you’re fine with this, I’m fine with this.”

“Yes. Yeah, I am. I am. Sorry,” Jaskier shook his head. “Did I just ruin it? It’s just, it matters you know, so I figured-”

“Jask. I get it. It’s fine,” Geralt said, rubbing his thumbs on each of Jaskier’s hip bones. “Can I suck your cock, now?” he asked softly. Jaskier’s worries disappeared from his mind instantly, and he nodded enthusiastically about twelve times above the consent limit.

Geralt took him into his hand and stroked him, slowly but firmly, further limiting his brain’s already diminished access to oxygen. Geralt’s other hand had reached out to fondle his ass and his fingers began to lightly drum along the back of Jaskier’s thigh, brushing softly, ghosting against his skin, and sending a brand new kind of sparks of want to Jaskier’s cock.

After a few strokes, Geralt brought his lips to the base of Jaskier’s shaft, kissing the hairs in a way one could have described as chaste if it hadn’t been happening so close to another man’s dick. He then proceeded to drop fuller kisses on the soft skin of Jaskier’s cock, pressing his lips against the skin almost reverently as his hand kept working Jaskier. When he was satisfied with the soft noises and the sound of fast breathing above him, he guided his hand back to the base of Jaskier’s cock, pumping a few times before guiding the tip of Jaskier’s dick to his mouth as he licked .

“Fffuck-” Jaskier gasped, and Geralt smiled.

Wetting his lips, he opened his mouth and wrapped it around the very tip of Jaskier’s cock, kissing it wetly, his tongue running against the underside. He let go, only to kiss the side of the head with an open mouth and then took Jaskier’s cock again.

As soon as he had run into Geralt at the bar, Jaskier had been both mindlessly infatuated and completely unsure what to expect. Geralt’s enthusiasm for learning to give head was definitely one of the things he didn’t see coming.

Geralt’s hand fondled his butt cheek again. As he pressed the tip of his fingers lightly against his sacrum, Jaskier sighed and angled his pelvis forward the way Geralt’s hand invited him to. Geralt took a slow breath through his nose, obviously trying to relax as much as he could as he moved forward, taking in a little more of Jaskier in his mouth and sliding his lips over the ring of Jaskier’s cock.

“Oh,” escaped from Jaskier’s lips as Geralt drew back slightly and took more of him again. “Oh darling, oh, yes, that’s good,” he stammered, caressing Geralt’s cheek before drawing back and slapping his hand against the door to ground himself and to restrain from grabbing the back of Geralt’s neck.

Geralt groaned softly at the loss, reaching out for Jaskier’s hand, closing his eyes as soon as he felt Jaskier’s touch again. He moaned as he kept sucking him slowly, clearly enjoying the guiding hand on his cheek.

“Oh, darling,” Jaskier moaned. His thumb rubbed softly against Geralt’s stubbly cheekbone before his hand slid against his cheek and jaw encouragingly. “Oh, that’s good, yeah that’s- Keep going, love,” he whispered again.

Biting his lower lip, Jaskier kept caressing Geralt’s cheek, whispering sweet nothings and sliding his fingers through the other man’s hair, convinced Geralt would have purred around his cock if he could.

"That’s really good, sweetheart,” and as Geralt enthusiastically took him a tad deeper, he just couldn’t help himself. “Oh, that’s my good boy ,” he moaned and Geralt all but choked on his dick.

Pulling back and resting a hand against the floor, half-slipping on his discarded coat, Geralt coughed and tried to get his breath back from choking on his own spit.

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry-” Jaskier kneeled by him hastily - and heavily . Having his jeans pooled around his knees wasn’t exactly helping him be graceful. “You alright?”

“Fine,” Geralt rasped, a bright shade of pink all over his face. He coughed again.

“Do you need a drink or something?”

Geralt laughed brokenly through a cough. “To help me forget I could have bitten your dick off?” he asked and Jaskier huffed.

“Don’t be silly,” he smiled, brushing away the hair across Geralt’s face as he leaned to kiss him. “This cock has seen worse.”

“That’s always comforting,” Geralt mumbled against his lips.

Jaskier laughed and caught his lips into another kiss, enjoying the way Geralt sighed comfortably, and held on to the back of his neck. His hand wandered to find the hem of Geralt’s shirt and slipped under his waistband before he arrived at a bright idea. “What if - and I know it’s going to be a very bold, and novel concept, but hear me out - what if we stopped using my front door and living room floor as acceptable fucking surfaces and straight out moved to the bed?”

“Hmm,” Geralt mused falsely. “Didn’t know there was anything straight about you,” he snarked and was met with a playful slap on the breast accompanied by Jaskier’s cackling laughter.

“Oh, look who’s talking now!”

They fumbled to get Jaskier back on his feet - “well I do love to spend time on my knees” - and got rid of the jeans which were annoyingly getting in their way, to then move on to the bedroom.

His bedroom, Jaskier decided, was absolutely ruined . Nothing would ever look better than Geralt sprawled on his bed, naked, his hard cock pressed against his lower belly. If Geralt ever decided to break things off with him - a thought which, despite people often calling him dramatic, he knew was perfectly realistic - Jaskier would have to change the room entirely. He would repaint the walls, get new furniture, burn the bed, maybe, or - to simplify - move places. No, there was no way a single soul could ever sleep on sheets which had touched Geralt’s skin without missing his presence like any respectable bard would miss their medieval lute.

At that moment, however, this bard was straddling Geralt’s lap, his arms around Geralt’s neck, while being held around his middle and kissed languorously. They were both naked, every inch of skin yearning to feel the other, and not a single thing was amiss.

“Would you like to touch yourself for me, darling?” Jaskier asked between two kisses, his voice low and syrupy.

A groan came from the bottom of Geralt’s throat and vibrated against Jaskier’s tongue.

“Fuck, I love the noises you make,” he whispered against Geralt’s lips, catching the man’s tongue in another open-mouth kiss.

Geralt started stroking his own cock and howled, and Jaskier broke the kiss unintentionally, unable to stop smiling at the sheer bestiality of the man.

Jaskier smacked his lips against Geralt’s a few more times as Geralt chased his mouth for more. Curving his hand around Geralt’s cheek, he kissed him one more time before slipping his thumb on his lips. He didn’t expect Geralt to kiss his finger, chastely, then lick its tip and lustfully take it in his mouth. Jaskier didn’t sigh as much as he whined .

“Would you prepare yourself for me?” Jaskier asked, making his intentions clearer, his voice a bit hesitant but hopeful.

Geralt let go of his thumb, letting Jaskier caress his lips lovingly. “Maybe it’s better if you do it,” he said, kissing the inside of Jaskier’s palm in an obvious attempt to hide his face.

“Is it?” Jaskier asked, and Geralt closed his eyes, something like regret written on his face.

“I’m not very good at it,” he grimaced.

“You’ve done it before?”

Geralt hummed, uncomfortable. “Since last time,” he clarified. “It didn’t really- I don’t know, maybe it’s not my thing,” he shrugged, still avoiding Jaskier’s eyes.

“Hey,” Jaskier whispered, his voice coated with kindness, unable to stop himself as he tipped Geralt’s chin up and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips. “You can’t become a virtuoso on the first try,” he said.

Geralt frowned but then hid his discomfort behind a playful look. “Are you saying my ass is a musical instrument-”

“Shush, you!” Jaskier giggled. “I’m trying to be serious, for once!” he chastised him.

Geralt snickered and hid his face back into Jaskier’s hand, softly kissing his wrist.

“Maybe you had one of the best orgasms of your life the first time you rubbed one out but we , regular human beings, had to work for it,” he paused for more dramatic flair. “L ong and hard and again and again …” he wiggled his eyebrows and Geralt snorted. “We learn what feels good and what doesn’t. Just because you’re ol-” Geralt gave him a pointed look “ -der doesn’t mean you don’t need to get to know yourself.”

“Nice save,” Geralt deadpanned.

“I know, right? Almost seamless,” Jaskier smiled back, clearly full of shit, and went in for a kiss.

“Hmm,” Geralt sighed. “I think I’d rather-” he hesitated, “get on with it, you know.”

“Get on with it?” It was Jaskier’s turn to raise an unconvinced eyebrow.

“Yeah, just get it done.”

“My, what a romantic you are,” Jaskier snickered and Geralt rolled his eyes, trying to make amends by rubbing Jaskier’s skin with his thumb where his hand rested on his hip.

“You just said it, first times suck. I just gotta- get through it and then, well. Hopefully, we get to the good stuff.”

“G- get through it ? You know this isn’t CrossFit, right?”

Geralt snorted. “You know what I mean,” Geralt said, then bit his lip as he frowned, pressing his forehead against Jaskier’s. “You know I’m not-,” he waved his hand, “good at this.”

“Words?”

He puffed. “Yeah, words.”

“Yeah, I got that. I hear you.” Jaskier smoothly brushed a strand of hair back behind Geralt’s ear. “There’s something else I heard. ‘First times suck’ ? Well challenge accepted, my dear,” he said and Geralt laughed as he kissed him again.

Geralt let himself be slowly pushed down to the bed as they kissed, his hands moving up Jaskier’s back, feeling the muscles along the way. His hand reached the back of Jaskier’s neck, covering it for a moment before he buried his fingers into the man’s hair as they softly ground against each other.

Jaskier slid his hand between them, giving both of their cocks a pull before moving lower. “Raise your legs for me, darling?” he asked in low tones, sliding his hands under Geralt’s knees. He could feel Geralt slightly tensing up as he set his feet to the mattress. It didn’t feel like it had anything to do with the scar Jaskier had brushed with his fingertips.

“Shouldn’t I be on my hands and knees?” he asked in a breath while Jaskier’s hands found their way back to his chest.

“You could,” he kissed a spot on his jaw, caressing Geralt’s pectoral. “You don’t have to.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier?” his voice was fairly tight and Jaskier faintly wondered if it was any clue to the state of his ass- and then kept the thought very much to his stupid dick-jokes self.

“Nah, not necessarily,” he whispered, trying to make his hands into a calming, solid presence against Geralt’s skin, caressing his breasts, his ribs, his clavicles, lining his scars with the care they deserved. Whichever God carved this man’s body, Jaskier swore to worship them until the end of his days.

“It can be straining to hold that position. Also…” Jaskier raised himself to face Geralt, picking up the man’s hand as it slipped over his shoulder and kissed the root of each finger. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable with it,” he said. “We don’t have to do it today.” He weaved his fingers between Geralt’s and kissed their tips. “And we don’t have to do it ever.”

Geralt’s face became closed off as he took a slow breath in, bolting up the gates before Jaskier had a chance to read him. He raised to meet Jaskier, his hand finding the perfect place at the back of his neck, and kissed him earnestly.

“I want you to fuck me,” he said against his lips.

“Yeah?” Jaskier gasped. “Got you, loud and clear,” Jaskier whispered and leaned into another kiss.

He broke away from Geralt to reach his nightstand drawer, pulling out some lube and condoms. He grabbed a pillow, invited Geralt to raise his hips and slid it underneath.

“Now, where was I?” he said under his breath, settling between Geralt’s legs and rubbing their bodies against each other. Geralt moaned and wrapped a leg around Jaskier’s pelvis, grinding back eagerly.

Holding his thigh with one hand, Jaskier began kissing his neck, licking and biting the skin at his throat, intending to take care of every inch of Geralt’s body. He licked one of Geralt’s nipples, extracting a moan from Geralt when he sucked and scraped his teeth against the strong muscle of his tit. Feeling Geralt slowly relax under his hands, he headed lower, kissing the pale hairy line that led from his navel to his cock.

He squeezed Geralt’s cock gently, carefully caressing the tip with his thumb and watching the precome spread, shiny against the soft skin. He looked up at Geralt as he moved his hand steadily up and down, a spark of ecstasy jumping from his heart to his cock at the sight of Geralt, eyes closed, biting his lower lip. Every moment assured Jaskier that pleasuring this man was actually his entire life’s purpose.

Geralt hummed with pleasure as Jaskier wrapped his lips around his cock, already struggling not to buck his hips when Jaskier took more of him in his mouth.

Jaskier couldn’t help but hum around his dick as he took it in, playing with depth and rhythm like a true maestro, his fingers threading through the light grey curls of Geralt’s pubes. He then let go of Geralt’s cock with an obscene pop that made him laugh and licked up from the spot right above Geralt’s balls.

Geralt’s hips stirred in both pleasure and surprise.

Jaskier got his hands back on the lube as he kissed and licked the man’s balls, encouraged by the whines and groans that escaped Geralt’s throat. He warmed his lubed fingers against each other and caressed Geralt’s ass with what he wouldn’t deny was absolute adoration. “Can I touch you, darling?” he asked, his voice a bit rough.

Geralt breathed a “yeah” and sounded almost like he was begging but Jaskier gracefully didn’t comment on it. (He, however, definitely took note.) Instead, he slid a hand between Geralt’s cheeks and brushed a finger against his hole as his mouth drove back down Geralt’s beautifully thick cock.

Jaskier teased a little, trying out different pressures against the man’s hole before the song of Geralt’s moans left no room for doubt. He slid his forefinger in while his other hand caressed Geralt’s inner thigh and finally felt the heat of Geralt’s body wrapped around his finger. He pulled back slightly and pushed again, this time steadily driving his finger deeper, synching his hand with the movements of his neck.

Despite Geralt’s frequent struggles with words, his gasps and moans were graced with great clarity and proved sufficient to let Jaskier know he was right to keep going. As far as non-verbal cues go, he also quickly found delight in feeling the walls of Geralt’s ass tightening around him and the taste of more precome coating his tongue.

“ Ah , your mouth,” Geralt moaned, reaching out and grasping onto Jaskier’s hair.

Jaskier closed his eyes and moaned, aching for better friction than the bit of sheet he could rub his cock against. Grabbing the lube with one hand, he couldn’t help but jerk himself a couple of times as Geralt’s hand kept pulling his hair with each bop of his head.

Pointedly slowing down and looking up, he waited for Geralt’s attention to focus on him. He made a point of keeping their eyes locked as he shamelessly pulled up and let go of his cock. “D’you want another finger, honey?” he asked, perfectly aware of how depraved he had to look with his hair astray and his lips as probably as crimson as the tip of Geralt’s cock.

Geralt pulled him closer and met him with a crushing kiss as he nodded and moaned against Jaskier’s brow. “Hm- wait,” he breathed, holding Jaskier back as he started to let go, “I haven’t touched you at all,” he complained, his hands cupping Jaskier’s ass in a kind but firm grasp.

“Ah- It’s alright, love,” Jaskier said. “We’ve got time for that,” he smiled against Geralt’s lips but before he could leave again, Geralt grabbed his hand.

“I want you to feel as good as I do,” he breathed.

“Oh, trust me, darling, I’m feeling fantastic,” Jaskier grinned. They kissed one more time before Geralt let go of him and Jaskier drove his attention back to his lover’s lower body.

Geralt sighed as he settled his head back against his pillow, muttering something about how Jaskier was going to kill him.

Jaskier brought one hand at the base of Geralt’s cock, put his mouth back to work and fingered him a little while longer before adding another slick finger. Geralt whined and Jaskier reached out for his hand, threading their fingers together, hoping Geralt would know it was his way of checking in before Geralt sighed “ Yeah, s’good ,” in a tone that sounded pretty far gone.

He fucked Geralt with his fingers a few tentative times and curled them softly on the way out. In case he had any doubt his fingers were brushing against the right spot, Geralt’s hips jerked, driving his cock further down Jaskier’s throat.

“Ah, fuck ,” Geralt moaned. “Fuck, sorry,” slipped from his lips as if he was holding back so many more words.

Jaskier squeezed his hand in reassurance and kept sucking on Geralt’s dick until he could feel him tremble. He rubbed against Geralt’s prostate, drinking in every noise leaving the man’s lips, every movement revealing his pleasure.

“Ah, Jask,” Geralt moaned again, clutching to Jaskier’s hand like nothing would ever be able to make him let go. “Jas- Jaskier, ah , Jask, wait, I’m gonna-”

His hips buckled and his back raised from the mattress as he came, mouth open, gasping. He moaned and groaned as Jaskier kept fucking him onto his fingers until he was done spilling.

Jaskier slid his fingers out of Geralt’s ass, unable not to pull on his own cock even as he wiped off his mouth and tried to catch his breath, resting his forehead against the soft flesh of Geralt’s hip.

“Fuck,” Geralt whispered as he stretched, the last tingles of pleasure leaving his body. He brought his hands to his face, covering his blush and groaned “ fuck ” in a wholly different tone.

“Hey,” Jaskier gasped, slowing down the movements of his wrist and bringing his other hand to touch Geralt’s arm. “Hey, you alright?”

“Hmm,” he groaned from under his hands.

“What’s wrong, darling?” he asked and Geralt huffed.

“I just came like a teenager, darling ,” Geralt mumbled, the edge of his sarcasm largely smoothed out by post-coital bliss.

Jaskier chuckled. “No, you didn’t. You held up really well,” he said, caressing Geralt’s forearm. “My charms were simply too mighty for you to keep it in any longer,” he whispered, and kissed his other wrist and hand, hoping Geralt would emerge from his hiding place.

Geralt groaned again, unconvinced, but let his hand slip away when Jaskier kissed his knuckles, allowing the other man to paint his cheek with the sweet brush of his lips.

“I wanted you,” Geralt whispered, in a weak, almost plaintive way.

“I’m still right here, love,” Jaskier whispered back. “You still have me,” he said at the corner of Geralt’s lips, pressing his mouth softly against his. He found Geralt pressing back with the same tenderness then savouring the taste his own come on Jaskier’s tongue.

They stayed like this for a moment, simply enjoying the warmth of each other’s arms, slowly kissing and holding each other.

“Do you need me?” Geralt asked after Jaskier buckled against his hips involuntarily.

“If your schedule allows it,” Jaskier joked, hiding his face in his neck and humming as he rubbed himself against Geralt.

“What do you want?” Geralt asked, caressing the length of Jaskier’s back, pressing his fingers along the muscles, waking up every fibre of Jaskier’s body.

“This,” Jaskier murmured, “This is perfect.”

He rubbed himself slowly against Geralt as the man covered him in caresses, the callousness of Geralt’s hands contrasting with the softness of his gestures. He ground against Geralt’s hip lazily, welcoming the pressure of Geralt’s hands on his ass, feeling the imprint of each finger into his flesh. His cock was still smeared with lube and the mess he’d spit onto Geralt’s pelvis made for a dirty, wonderful help.

“You look so good like this,” Geralt whispered, kissing a spot under his ear. “You feel so good against me,” he said softly, his tenderness almost making Jaskier come on the spot.

“ Ah , please, touch me,” he begged and Geralt reached for his cock like a servant knight, enthusiastically escorting him to rapture as Jaskier fucked into his hand again and again and again , his shout resonating through the bedroom as he came.

Geralt held him as Jaskier made his way back down, their bodies sweaty and well spent, comfortably intertwined.

After a while during which Jaskier’s mind drifted and fluttered between sleep and consciousness, he adjusted his body to kiss the side of Geralt’s jaw.

“Care to be introduced to my shower?” he asked sleepily.

“Hmm. Good call,” Geralt nodded, and pressed a kiss against his temple.

When Geralt walked out of the shower, freshly cleaned up and smelling like Jaskier’s lemon soap, his clothes were neatly arranged on the bed. He got dressed and followed the sound of Jaskier’s humming, finding him in the kitchen frowning at some delivery menus. He was biting his lip, seeming pretty conflicted and Geralt surprised himself thinking: shit, he’s cute.

He kept expecting to have a change of heart any minute now. It was, after all, bound to happen, the next logical step, the most probable outcome: one morning he would wake up and realise that surely this had all been fun but he wasn’t into it anymore. He just had gotten a bit confused and wasn’t actually feeling so much for this man- or any other man, or any other person for that matter.

After splitting up with Yen, he thought he’d never grow fond of someone enough to want anything (at least anything more than sex, but even sex was quite low on his list of priorities). With Jaskier, though- it was like every other day, Geralt would find another thing he’d like to share with the handsome man who had run into him and insisted on sticking around.

“Hey,” Jaskier said, noticing him in the doorway. “So I was thinking, either Casa Lauretta or Athumani’s Kitchen , what do you think? And before you say anything- I know , take out again, but I can’t both try to seduce you and subject you to my cooking.”

Geralt snorted. “You’ve had me in your bed already. Twice. ” he said, raising a playful eyebrow. “At what point will you consider me successfully seduced?”

“Uh, I don’t know, some time between the third dog and the second honeymoon, I guess?” Jaskier pretended to ponder.

Geralt blinked at him and his smile froze on his face. He often struggled with words to begin with but Jaskier mastered the art of leaving him speechless. Banter was his realm. Jaskier knew the terrain by heart and he revelled in it. He was light on his feet and quick on his toes. Every time Geralt tried to play his game and stepped towards Jaskier, the distance separating them seemed to grow.

He felt like a novice trying to catch up with a man who had hiked the trail his whole life, knew its twists and turns by heart. No matter how much he tried to relax and enjoy the sights by Jaskier’s side, he still felt the man would always be ahead of him. Like he would never be able to catch up and stay stuck in the land of the new and uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat. “What’s in these cupboards of yours?“ he asked, brushing past Jaskier to open a few of them. At first, the answer seemed to be both everything and not much at all . But after initial confusion, he realised Jaskier might actually have a system.

Items weren’t sorted by kind but rather by what goes well together: canned mushrooms next to rice, coconut milk next to curry powder, sliced bread between jam and mustard. He wasn’t sure why "365 Lesser-known Eastern Medieval Poems” was stacked with cereals, or why Jaskier’s watch was in a bowl, but he could find out with time.

Something tickled the back of his neck and he realised Jaskier was playing with his hair, a bit of a smitten look on his face. As Geralt looked at him, Jaskier froze and blushed.

“Sorry,” he said, retreating his hand. “I love your hair,” he said sheepishly.

“I lost my hairband somewhere,” Geralt said, looking around.

“It looks good like this too,” Jaskier said. “Pretty sure it looks good all the time,” he smiled and brushed an escapee strand of hair back behind Geralt’s ear.

And here it was: another immensely confusing thing about Jaskier. The man radiated self-confidence 99% of the time. He could bathe in the attention of a crowd, flirt shamelessly with a complete stranger and whisper the filthiest words, dirtiest things- he could fantasize out loud about getting married to a man he’d only known for a few weeks. Yet there was also a shyness about the smallest of things, a vulnerability . It made Geralt want to pick him up and take him to safety- and he was perfectly aware of how ridiculous that sounded. But it felt like maybe, Jaskier’s hidden, more reserved side was a path where they could meet halfway.

He leaned towards him and kissed the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. “Thank you,” he said.

Jaskier smiled and his whole face illuminated. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Good,” Geralt nodded, taking his attention back to the cupboard. And so here he was again, taking a step back on what had started to feel like a comfortable route and stiffly navigating in between the metaphorical potholes on the road leading to Jaskier. As it turned out, talking about how his ass felt after getting fingered was not Geralt’s forte either. But Jaskier - in a moment of extreme humility - had described himself as a master of words and rhythm and that’s exactly what he was. He could use any word, touch upon any topic, express any emotion. Jaskier had a whole planisphere at his disposal, a means to take any road; Geralt had shitty directions and a compass that only told North once in a blue moon.

“No pain?”

“No,” he answered, closed the cupboard and exited Jaskier’s personal space to grab the menus. “Maybe delivery’s better, you’re right,” he said.

“Hmm,” Jaskier answered. “You do that a lot,” he pointed out.

Geralt gave him a look above his shoulder. “What?”

“Changing topics. Avoiding conversations,” Jaskier explained lightly. His tone was not judgemental. He was merely making an observation.

And so, “I’m not,” Geralt lied. He only realised he had lied the second he heard himself. Fuck . “I didn’t realise there was more to say.” Less of a lie. Not quite a half-truth.

Jaskier sighed softly and settled next to Geralt, pressing his forearms against the kitchen counter. "Margherita, then?” he asked. Geralt could see the tight shape of his lips and the square angle of his shoulders. Jaskier had obviously seen right through him but was dropping the subject for his sake.

“You’re disappointed,” he said and Jaskier’s head shot back up to look at him.

“With the pizza options?” Jaskier joked weakly.

“With,” he hesitated. “Me.”

“No-” Jaskier argued right away, raising his hand to cut him off. But Geralt knew how it was, what people expected, not unfairly, versus how little he could offer.

“It’s fine,” Geralt said. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I-,” he paused to weigh his words carefully, eyes focused on the menus. "I’m not very good at-” he hesitated then snorted under Jaskier’s confused look. “ Opening up ?” he said, raising an eyebrow in Jaskier’s direction.

Jaskier laughed and reached out to rest his hand over Geralt’s. “Well, we’ve talked about this,” he said, with a shine in his eyes. “Practice makes better.” Geralt hummed, looking at Jaskier’s hand over his. To his surprise, Jaskier retracted his hand somewhat suddenly and he missed the weight of it right away. “And it’s not like we know each other that well, as you said,” he shrugged, at the edge of Geralt’s field of vision.

“I am ok,” he said, answering Jaskier’s previous question more honestly. “Bit weird but ok.” His brain then caught up with Jaskier’s words a moment too late; as you said ?

"Okay,” Jaskier said, offering a shy smile. “I- it’s okay if it doesn’t come naturally to you. I just- well, I’d just like you to be more comfortable with me. But we’ll get there, right?”

Geralt swallowed, closing and opening the hand that was resting on the counter to get rid of a slight tremor. Saying yes would have been another lie. He couldn’t make that promise. He had tried before, thought that maybe if he forced himself to be enough then things would work out eventually- but they hadn’t.

And so it would have been easy to say no , to back off entirely. He could tell Jaskier he wasn’t interested in building something, just wanted an easy fuck, to experiment a bit, and had simply gotten lucky enough to find a guy who wasn’t repelled by his shitty personality and off-putting scars. It would have been so easy- to tell Jaskier, “I don’t know what you thought you were getting out of this, but you won’t get me .” It was complete and absolute bullshit, a sad pack of lies, but it would be so much easier. He could get back to his life, his job, his kid and the handful of friends he still had, and never think about blue eyes or milkshakes again.

If only the thought didn’t make him nauseous.

Fuck, he wanted this.

“This isn’t casual for you, is it?” he asked, voice tight, and Jaskier startled, almost taking a step back. His face made an odd succession of expressions and he opened his mouth a couple of times before closing it again.

“I- I can be casual. I can be very casual. That’s not a problem, that’s not a- but I-,” he sighed and brushed his hand through his hair nervously. “Fuck, you really don’t fuck around, do you?” Geralt tried to come up with something to say but Jaskier shook his head, his voice way calmer now even if a bit wavering. “No. No, I don’t think I want to be casual with you. And- And you- you don’t w-”

“Me neither,” Geralt cut in before panic took over Jaskier.

The man’s eyes grew a little wider. “You neither?” he asked, and fuck if that wasn’t the most obvious display of naked hope Geralt had ever seen on anybody’s face.

Geralt shook his head and Jaskier seemingly had to fight a full-body shiver.

Jaskier walked the two steps separating them and kissed Geralt with his entire soul. When he pulled back, Geralt leaned into him again for another taste of his tongue. He brought a hand to Jaskier’s cheek and kissed him with feeling. When they parted, he kept his eyes closed, pressing his forehead to Jaskier’s, the tip of his fingers grazing the short hair behind his ear.

“I’m not used to wanting…” Geralt said. “Sex is good. But usually I don’t- I don’t want more. With you, I- I don’t want to ru- to leave . And it’s…”

“Weird, isn’t it?” Jaskier offered, his voice tight but tone playful. The shy smile on his lips was a delicious cherry on top, making the teasing even softer. (Little did Jaskier know that a cherry was the only thing in Geralt’s opinion that could ever improve a creamy vanilla milkshake.)

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Geralt huffed. Jaskier kissed him, and after working through so many words, Geralt ran out of things to say. “So, yeah. Margherita’s good,” he whispered, and it was his turn to make Jaskier laugh. The man cleared his throat and sighed like a weight had been taken off his chest.

“I can’t believe you said all that before even knowing Lauretta delivers vanilla milkshakes,” he said and Geralt poked him in the ribs until they half-wrestled, laughing, Jaskier’s back hitting the fridge- and they were kissing again.

They talked over dinner for a while. Jaskier came up with questions for Geralt to answer, helping him ease into a casual conversation. They teased and flirted and laughed, and soon ended up in bed again, tasting each other’s skin and leaning into each other’s curves.

“Full disclosure?” Jaskier whispered against Geralt’s mouth as he was straddling him. “I really fucking love those tits of yours,” he said, cupping Geralt’s chest with his two hands. Geralt scoffed in between two kisses.

“They’re called pecs,” he said, enjoying the way Jaskier’s hands were basically venerating his chest.

“Nuh-uh,” Jaskier replied, “I, good sir, am an artist, not an anatomist, and these are definitely some of the most magnificent boobies I have ever had the chance to see, touch and lick,” he said, brushing a nipple with his thumb while kissing Geralt’s jaw.

Geralt snorted and kept caressing Jaskier’s incredibly precious ass.

Jaskier sighed with contentment. “So, tell me your secret,” he mumbled against Geralt’s skin, finding a tendon in Geralt’s neck and following it with his lips, tongue and teeth. “How does a corporate lawyer get as buff as you?”

Geralt’s laugh was more of a scoff as he felt the more-or-less accidental brush of Jaskier’s cock against his.

“You’re one to talk,” he groaned, getting his hand into Jaskier’s hair and pulling him into a kiss. “Have you seen yourself, Professor?”

Jaskier suddenly pulled back, eyes wide and cheeks pink. “I- well- I mean I’m nothing close to- Your body is,” he huffed, seemingly at loss for words which was a very odd thing coming from Jaskier.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, bringing his hand to the small of the man’s back, and squinted. “You know you’re hot, right?” he asked seriously and witnessed Jaskier dissolve into a fit of giggles, ducking his head and blushing even harder.

“I’m- nah, I’m not-”

“ Jaskier ,” Geralt repeated with intent.

“I mean, I’m fine but I’m not- you’re like a, a- an underwear supermodel.”

Geralt snorted. “Right, they do love bodies covered with scar tissue in underwear magazines,” he said self-deprecatingly, making Jaskier frown.

“Don’t do that. You’re beautiful,” he chastised.

“If you say so-” Geralt shrugged.

“I do say so. Les Dessous de Beauclair can go fuck itself,” Jaskier replied and Geralt snorted again.

“Point still stands,” Geralt said. “You’re hot.”

Jaskier looked away again, biting his lower lip. “Wh-,” he started and then closed his mouth right away.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head.

“Jaskier? I’m the one who isn’t much of a talker. There can’t be two of us,” he said, and Jaskier laughed, then hid his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s shoulders.

“What do you like about me?” he asked, his voice so small Geralt barely heard him. He let a moment pass, wondering where to start and how. He slid a hand at the back of Jaskier’s neck, caressing the short strands of hair.

“This,” he said. “Your hair right here. It’s short but long enough that I can grab it,” he felt Jaskier smile against his neck.

” Kinky ,“ Jaskier whispered.

“And I like your eyes,” Geralt said, too focused on picking the right words to get sidetracked. “At the bar, I-” he hesitated, pacing himself. “I noticed your eyes first,” he said and swallowed.

Jaskier hugged him tighter. “I love your eyes too,” he mumbled into Geralt’s hair. "They’re incredible.”

Geralt managed to duck his head and press a soft kiss below Jaskier’s ear. “Your cheekbones,” he said, his mouth finding the sweet spot at the base of Jaskier’s neck. “Your shoulders,” he whispered, kissing Jaskier’s clavicle, loosening their embrace to keep going lower. “Your collarbones,” he nipped his teeth at the bone above Jaskier’s chest, “they’re really, really hot,” he said and Jaskier giggled, still hiding his face by pressing his forehead against Geralt’s temple.

Geralt brought his hands up Jaskier’s back and felt him shiver, Jaskier’s hips startling gently against his, bringing a soft moan from the both of them. “Your back,” he said, “I really love your back- and your ass, gods ,” he linked his hands behind Jaskier’s neck and rolled his hips, their moans echoing through the room. “ Ah , and those fucking arms of yours,” Geralt whispered. “Have you seen those arms?” he repeated, still softly rubbing their cocks together with slow movements of his hips and caressing Jaskier’s arm. “I’m sure you could lift me up with those arms,” he said and Jaskier groaned. “Would you like that?” he asked. “Would you- would you like to hold me up and fuck me?”

“Oh, fuck,” Jaskier moaned, his face pressed against Geralt’s cheek. “Fuck, fuck, yes, yes please, yes,” he begged, and Geralt grabbed the hair at the back of his neck and pulled just enough for Jaskier to whine with pleasure as they both rushed in an almost bruising kiss.

Jaskier had a hard time pulling away from Geralt, but finally managed to turn towards the bedside table to retrieve lube and condoms.

Geralt flushed himself against his back, tearing a moan from Jaskier as his hand directly went for Jaskier’s cock and Geralt’s dick rubbed against his ass.

“Oh fuck, yeah- yeah , we gotta do this some time too, darling,” he panted and Geralt groaned, grinding against him.

“You would like that?” he breathed, his voice low and coated with desire.

“Gods, I’d fuck you anyway you want, darling-” he moaned, “-but fffuck , if you keep going, there isn’t going to be much left of me.”

Geralt chuckled against him. He pulled back, freeing Jaskier from his embrace and sitting back against the wall.

Jaskier kneeled in between his legs and tore the package open, sliding the condom on his cock, realising after raising his eyes that he was under Geralt’s scrutiny.

“You okay?” he asked at the exact moment Geralt breathed “Come here.”

Somehow they crashed into each other, and yet fit each other’s shapes perfectly.

Geralt raised on his knees, thighs parted, Jaskier’s hands moving from his cock to his balls, making his hips jerk and his teeth close on Jaskier’s lower lip as he moaned. Jaskier slid his fingers further, caressing the sweet spot of Geralt’s perineum, making Geralt break the kiss as he gasped.

“Fuck, please, Jask-”

“I’ve got you,” Jaskier murmured, kissing him again and coating his fingers with lube.

Geralt tried his hardest not to jerk himself off here and now, attempting to focus on rubbing Jaskier’s cock while his other arm rested around the man’s neck.

Jaskier teased the rim of his asshole and got a quick return on his investment as Geralt pulled a little harder on his dick, tearing a moan from his lips. He chuckled a bit breathlessly and slid a finger inside Geralt easily. It didn’t take long at all before a second finger joined the first.

“You okay, darling?” Jaskier breathed and Geralt nodded against his cheek.

For a while, they stayed like this, settled against each other, Jaskier slowly fingering him until Geralt couldn’t stop clenching around his fingers and asking for more.

When three fingers curved into him and caressed his prostate, Geralt thought he was going to come undone. “Fuck- fuck, fuck, fuck, Jaskier-,”

“Good?” Jaskier asked a bit worriedly.

“Fuck, yes , good,” Geralt bit in a tone that was halfway between “how the fuck could it be anything but good” and “don’t you fucking dare stop” , making Jaskier laugh again.

“Okay, darling- still love the enthusiasm,” Jaskier said while Geralt whined and begged until finally, fucking finally, Jaskier agreed he was ready. Jaskier slid between his thighs, his strong, well-built arms around Geralt’s middle and Geralt realised it was probably the first time he had been held like this in his entire life.

“Touch yourself for me?” Jaskier asked, his mouth against Geralt’s before Geralt shook his head.

“Can’t- gonna come if I do,” he breathed and Jaskier kissed him again.

“Please?” he asked. “I want to make sure it feels good,” he whispered, holding onto Geralt’s middle tighter.

Geralt complied and before long Jaskier’s hips were rising to meet his body. He felt the tip of Jaskier’s cock slide between his buttcheeks and touch the soft of his ass and he startled, pulling away and pressing back against Jaskier just as fast.

“Fuck,” he swore as Jaskier whined. “Please, Jask,” he moaned as the hand on his cock started shaking. He then felt the tip of Jaskier’s cock against him again, and the steady push of Jaskier’s hips as the head of Jaskier’s cock entered him. He whined as Jaskier pushed further and lowered himself as slow as he could with the lone strength of his thighs and Jaskier’s arms wrapped around his waist.

“Ok?” Jaskier asked breathlessly. A gasp was all Geralt managed. His thoughts were an endless thread of fuck fuck fuck he couldn’t sort out in any order. “Yea- ah,” he broke, “ fuck ,”

“Is it too much?” Jaskier asked, “I can- I can stop, do you need me to stop?”

“ Don’t ,” Geralt moaned, clenching every single muscle in his body to keep Jaskier against him and eliciting a cry from Jaskier. His arms were around Jaskier’s shoulders, his forehead against the man’s temple. Geralt was holding onto him with everything he got.

“I just-” he tried to take a slow long breath thinking about everything he had learned through meditation and managed one ragged breath. “You’re a lot,” he managed in a sigh, clenching around Jaskier despite how much he tried to relax.

Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat half-way between pleasure and laughter. “I get that all the time,” he said cheekily.

“Don’t- don’t make me laugh,” he said, chuckling breathlessly, and Jaskier joined him, both trying to breathe through the involuntary clenching of Geralt’s inner muscles and the accidental movements of Jaskier’s hips.

They laughed into each other’s mouths as they kissed, mouth open, tongues licking each other’s lips, teeth biting softly, teasingly. When they were both ready, Jaskier pulled himself down as he helped Geralt raise on his knees and they met again, moaning and groaning.

“You ok?” Jaskier whispered again and by then, Geralt had no fucking idea. He had never felt so tense and relaxed at once, uncomfortable but so fucking fantastic. His nerves and his ass were on absolute fire but it was good, it was good, it was so, so-

“So good,” he growled, aware that every part of his body was probably shaking in Jaskier’s arms. “ Ah , don’t stop,” he moaned, and Jaskier, incredible, astonishing, wonderful Jaskier did not stop .

Their hips moved in sync, feeding Geralt with the kind of friction he had never imagined could feel so good.

He let himself relax entirely into Jaskier’s embrace, sliding against the whole length of Jaskier’s body, pressing torso against torso, his forehead against Jaskier’s sweaty fringe, their noises brushing, their mouths breathing the same air.

“Ye-ah?” Jaskier moaned. “You like it? You really- ah , fuck- you- ah , you feel so good, does it feel good, tell me-” he rambled, far, so far from actually needing the reassurance.

Geralt groaned. “ Yes ,” he whined, “I like it, I like it, I like you , please,” and Jaskier whined and then did something- Geralt didn’t know, something, somehow, maybe went harder or faster or different, but he pulled and pushed and Geralt lost his fucking mind. He did it again and again, kissing Geralt, licking his neck, biting on his earlobe, caressing his nipples, bruising his hips in his grasp, pulling on his cock, whispering into his ear and making him whine and moan and shout until Geralt begged to be undone.

“I’ve got you, love,” Jaskier said, “I’ve got you.” Jaskier pulled harder on his hips in a half-broken groan, making Geralt slip towards him a little more.

Geralt arched his back, moaning in delight from the new angle. His neck was left exposed for Jaskier to kiss and lick, and breathe against Geralt’s skin. Every cell in Geralt’s body was burning and electric, and boiling. Everything felt so good and so much and so Jaskier , so he begged, begged again, and again for Jaskier to hold him and kiss him and fill him as he came, and so he did. He came, held, and kissed, and filled, and perfect, and Jaskier came, too, gasping into his mouth as they fell into each other.

For a moment, there was no other sound apart from the unsteady breathing and an occasional moan from the two of them as they slowly, comfortably, came back down to earth. Jaskier moved first, turning his head to kiss Geralt’s cheek, pushing his long white hair away from his face, and Geralt turned his head lazily towards him, leaning into a kiss.

“You ok?” Jaskier whispered, probably for the hundredth time and Geralt, for the thousandth time, hummed and nodded. Soon they would detach from each other, groaning from the discomfort of their sensible muscles, their come-dirtied bellies and lube-stained sheets anything but glamorous.

But for the time being, they laid their heads against each other’s shoulders, eyes closed, content with the feeling of holding and being held.

“Hey,” Jaskier whispered.

Geralt hummed questioningly.

“Stay for breakfast?” Jaskier asked. He missed the soft smile that drew on Geralt’s lips.

“Hmm.”

#geraskier #geraskier fic #the witcher fic #the witcher #bisexual geralt of rivia #bottom geralt of rivia #top jaskier #my writing #mine: no warnings #mine: geraskier #mine: modern au #mine: of fingers tongues and toes series

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songtoyou · 4 years ago

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Epiphany - Part Four

Paring: Luke Crain x Female Reader

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3,080

Warnings: Talks of drug use and recovery. Swearing and self-doubt.

Description: Life has never been easy for Luke Crain. After the death of Nell, Luke realizes that he needs to make some changes. He decided to stay in Massachusetts and attend rehab. He was determined to remain on his path of sobriety. When you get assigned to be Luke’s sponsor, it opens a new door of possibilities that neither you nor Luke expected.

A/N: I am sorry that it has taken me so long to write and upload this chapter. I have not been feeling so good since I posted that last chapter. Lots of anxiety keeping me from doing things such as write. Anyway, here is the new chapter. I wanted to write about Aunt Janet. I felt that the show didn’t really tell us much about her except that she took care of the kids after the events of Hill House in 1992.

Note: Italics represent the past or past conversations.

Feedback is wonderful. It is nice knowing if people are actually liking this fic.

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Tag list: @morningstar09

~Aunt Janet’s House – 2002 ~

“Luke! Hurry up, or you’re going to be late for school!” Aunt Janet yelled up the stairs.

“Luke! Come on!” exclaimed Nellie. “I’ll go check on him.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” said Janet. Her youngest nephew often worried her, especially since it was the tenth anniversary of Olivia’s death this past summer. Janet started to notice that Luke became more recluse and stayed up in his room. The only person Luke would interact with was Nell, which was not surprising to Janet. The twins only managed to become closer as they got older.

What really began to cause Janet to worry was catching Luke steal money from her purse. She asked him what he was doing and why he was stealing. However, Luke could come up with a pretty decent lie about needing money to buy flowers for Olivia’s grave.

In truth, it was to buy beer. Luke had taken a liking to the barley and hops beverage. It helped him feel numb and not worry about anything. Unfortunately, Luke had one too many beers last night and was paying for it. Nellie found him headfirst in the toilet regurgitating the contents of his late-night beer binge.

“Eww, gross. What is wrong with you?” asked Nellie. She pinched her nose as the stench of Luke’s puke was overwhelming.

“What does it look like! I’m sick! Tell Aunt Janet that I can’t go to school.”

“Luke, come on. You have missed too many days already. They’re going to hold you back another year if you miss any more school,” Nellie argued while searching through Luke’s drawers and closet for clothes.

Luke managed to get up from the bathroom floor when he felt it was safe. He rinsed out his mouth to relieve it from the after taste of throw-up.

“Come on! Get cleaned up and put these on,” ordered Nell and shoved Luke’s clothes in his arms.

Luke groaned and plopped down on his bed. “Nellie…I can’t go to school today. I’m too sick.”

“Well, your sickness is also making me sick, but I managed to get up and ready for school today. Now move it! I’ll keep bugging you if you don’t move. I’m not going to let you fall to the waste side. Do you hear me, Luke?”

“Fine! I’m getting dressed!” Luke yelled to get Nellie off of his back.

No matter what occurred between them, neither twin could ever hate the other. They were each other’s best friends and closest confidante. They had to be. Especially now that they were the last two left in Aunt Janet’s care. As soon as their eldest siblings turned eighteen, they hightailed it out of Janet’s house for college.

Luke slowly trudges down the stairs with his backpack slumped on his shoulders.

“Hey, there he is,” greeted Aunt Janet. “Would you like some breakfast, sweetie?”

“No! No breakfast,” Luke replied with his head on the table.

However, Nellie pushed a plate of dry toast in front of him and told him to at least nibble some bites. “Here’s some orange juice. Take slow sips. The last thing we need is you spewing junks in the toilet again,” whispered Nellie while Aunt Janet was in the kitchen. She would not out that her brother was hungover. That last thing Nell wanted was to cause any more trouble for Luke.

She knew why Luke did not want to go to school, and it had to do with, what else, their family. Some of the kids at school saw Luke as an easy target to bully and terrorize. The topic of their “messed-up” family was their go-to whenever they wanted to antagonize Luke. Nell often found herself a target for bullies but could stand up for herself a lot better than Luke.

With the anniversary of Olivia’s death, the bullies made it their mission to torment Luke about growing up without a mother or father. They would push him against the lockers, knocking his glasses off his face, and trip him in the hallways. It was too much to handle, and Luke was tired.

Leaning back in his chair, Luke re-read the words on the computer screen. His instructor loved the essay he turned in and advised him to expand upon it. Luke pushed aside his reservations about exploring his past traumas through writing. It was a better outlet for Luke to help cope and tackle past stressful life experiences. Not only did Luke have support from his instructor and you, but his counselor at Banyan Treatment Center, Rob, also supported the idea of using expressive writing as a way to heal.

Luke could not deny that writing helped clear his head. Something he learned while being in rehab back in Los Angeles. It allowed him to face things from his past that he had pushed aside. However, Luke had some reservations about how much he should…open himself up when it comes to sorting out his past events. There were still things that Luke was not quite ready to face.

Oh my God!" exclaimed Luke. "It has been a month and a half since we have seen that movie. It would be best if you got over the ending. It happened. There is nothing you can do about it."

"I can't, Luke. It was total bullshit!" you yelled back furiously.

Luke calmly said your name to get your attention. "Listen to me; we don't even know if Steve Rogers actually stayed back in time to be with Peggy. He may have…"

"Then where did he go? Huh? He just up and left his friends who he just got back. Steve and Peggy never even dated! They kissed, that is it. Yes, there was an attraction that each had for one another, but that was all it ever way…an attraction. They are a 'what could have been' type of couple—the movie completely throughout all of Steve's character development…right out the window. Whatever, I'm over it," you stated, throwing your hands up in defeat.

You and Luke were driving to his Aunt Janet's house for a visit. He mentioned to you about wanting to visit his aunt for some time but had not gotten around to it. You were surprised that he asked you to come along.

Luke mentioned that Shirley and Theo were too busy to come with him and did not want to go alone. You agreed on the condition that he drive since Aunt Janet lived an hour and a half away from Wilmington. Lately, your anxiety has been going up and down, so you were not comfortable being at the hands of the wheel, especially on the freeway. You did not understand why you had such anxiety these past few days. You chalked it up to being nervous about your final project at school. The assignment was to create a self-portrait. It should be simple enough, but of course, the art instructor wanted students to "think outside of the box" and not have it be a regular standard portrait of themselves.

Each draft you came up with was of you in some state of turmoil, whether it be you depicted on a gurney getting resuscitated from your heroin overdose or lying in a pool of your own vomit. You could not understand why this particular project was giving you such a hard time. You were three-years sober. You had a steady job and gone back to school. Your relationship with your parents was better than ever. So, why the thought of a self-portrait brought upon negative thoughts about oneself?

You mentioned your troubles to Luke, and he was very sympathetic. While he was now 206 days sober, there were times where he felt…like the achievement did not mean much.

"What do you mean by that?" you asked him while on the way to Aunt Janet's house.

"It's just…this isn't my first rodeo when it comes to recovery," Luke began to say. "There is always this little voice in the back of my head that…"

"That it is only temporary. I have that little voice too. I'm not too fond of that little voice. Three years sober, and there are times where I still feel like a total failure. I shouldn't, but…I can't help it," you revealed to Luke honestly.

"Thankfully, there is another little voice in the back of my head that gives tells me that I'm doing a good job now and then. It's just that positive little voice has been a tad quiet lately," you added.

Luke could pick up on the little defeatist tone in your voice, and he did not like it. You immediately felt his worry about you. "Hey," you said to get his attention and placed a hand on his arm. "Don't worry about me, okay. I'm fine. I have my fears like every recovering addict. It is nice to talk to someone about it, particularly someone who understands, you know. That helps."

Silence soon filled the car, but it was not awkward. You never had awkward or uncomfortable silences with Luke. For some reason, Luke was one of the few comforting presences in your life. Regardless of all of the hardships he has gone through in his life, he offered a sense of hopefulness. With his 6'3 stature, Luke really came off more like a gentle giant. It was like he did not view himself as this grown tall man, but probably still felt like that little kid hiding under the bed from the "Tall Man" at Hill House.

"Luke," you said to get his attention. "Are you happy?"

"No," he replied immediately, then clarified when he saw the look you gave him. "I mean, am I happy that I am over 200 days clean, then yes I am, very much so. But…I don't know, there is a small part of me that is scared to be happy…to be content in fear of something going wrong."

When Luke pulled the car into Aunt Janet's driveway, the older woman immediately came out of the house to greet her youngest nephew.

"There he is, my little boy," she said and wrapped her arms around Luke, which he reciprocated.

"Hi Aunt Janet, how are you?"

"I'm fine, darling. How have you been?" Aunt Janet asked, pulling away to get a good look at Luke. He looked much better than he did at Nell's funeral.

"Good. I'm doing good. Everyone is doing…fine," Luke replied, then turned towards you. He introduced you as his friend and not his sponsor to his Aunt, which kind of surprised you.

"So nice to meet you," said Aunt Janet taking your hand. She motioned for you both to follow her into the house. "I hope you both are hungry. I made an array of sandwiches and salads for lunch. Luke, I also made your favorite…chocolate pecan pie bars."

"Thank the Lord because he was hoping you would make them on the car ride here. It was all he talked about?" you teased.

"Once you have one, then you will know what I am talking about," Luke responded with a smile.

Aunt Janet lead you both into the kitchen.

"Can I use the bathroom to freshen up?" you asked her.

"Oh yes, dear. It is down that hallway, the first door to the right," told Aunt Janet as she showed you where to go. "Luke, you should probably wash your hands first," she added.

"Yes, Aunt Janet," he said and went to the sink to wash his hands.

When you were no longer in earshot, Aunt Janet stood beside her nephew and said, "Your friend seems really sweet."

Luke could not hold back his smile, "Yeah, she is genuinely nice. She's fun to hang out with. We have a lot of the same interests. Shirley and Theo have met her as well," he mentioned and shared that both of his sisters really liked you.

Aunt Janet turned her head to see if you came if you were around the corner. When you were not, she leaned over to Luke and said, "Very pretty too. She'd make a lovely…"

"Aunt Janet, she is just a friend. I can't date her anyway. She's…they say you shouldn't date anyone while still in recovery."

"I'm so proud of you," Aunt Janet said as she placed the food on the kitchen table. "You are becoming the man I always knew you could be."

Luke would be lying to himself if he denied that there was some form of attraction that he had for you, both physically and emotionally. He knew that the feelings that he was slowly developing towards you could be considered wrong. You were his sponsor…a dedicated one at that too. It would not be right for him to act on any attraction he may have for you—no doubt, that you would not reciprocate them, which would be disappointing to Luke.

"Better to just suffer in silence," Luke thought to himself.

"Don't you want a girlfriend? A family of your own someday?" asked Aunt Janet.

"Yeah…maybe. Someday. I'm just learning to take care of myself without drugs in my system. There is no way I can be a dedicated father or husband to anyone… at least not right now. I am still a work in progress," Luke admitted to his aunt. "I do like…" But Luke stopped when he heard your footsteps approaching.

"Oh, my goodness. The pictures on the wall… I'm assuming the little kid with glasses is you, Luke."

The three of you sat around the kitchen table with your plates stacked with delicious food.

"Luke was the absolute cutest kid. He had a little lisp as well," Aunt Janet shared. "I have more pictures of the kids if you would like to see them?"

"Yes," you replied ecstatically.

"No," Luke disputed, "We are in the middle of eating."

"We can multitask. Let's see those pictures," you asserted gleefully while Aunt Janet got up from the table.

With a belly full of food, the three you were now sitting outside on the patio, drinking tea, and eating Aunt Janet's yummy chocolate pecan pie bars. You already looked through three photo albums that showed Luke and his siblings' younger years.

"I wanted to take as many pictures as I could of the kids. They hated it, but I told 'em they would appreciate it when they got older," expressed Aunt Janet. "Here's a picture of Nell on her wedding day. That's her husband, Arthur. Sadly, he passed away a couple of months after they got married. But…they are together now."

You looked at the photo of the young couple. Nell looked very much like her older sisters and her mother. You could tell that there was a kindness about Nell just by looking at the picture. She was the type of person to go above and beyond for her family and even strangers. Luke would say that Nell was just that type of person to care about everyone, no matter who they were or where they came from.

Luke did share with you that one of his biggest regrets was not going to Nell's wedding. He said that he tried, but Shirley told him to leave. Luke said that it was for the best and that he was in no right state of mind to support his twin the way she deserved on her wedding day.

Thankfully for Luke, Nell understood and held no hard feelings. She never did when it came to her other half.

Aunt Janet began to sniffle, and when you looked up from the photo, you saw the older woman dab her eyes with a napkin. Out of instinct, Luke grabbed his Aunt's tiny hand and squeezed it with his as a way to show support. Just as he was Aunt Janet's little boy, Nell was her little girl. She was the one to raise them, take care of them, and guide them into adulthood.

None of the Crain children were perfect; they were far beyond that notion. However, there is no denying that if they did not have Aunt Janet take care of them and love them, they could have been worse off. Luke had the overwhelming feeling of guilt encompassing him at the moment as Aunt Janet tried to hold back her tears.

You instantly looked up at Luke. You could feel his sense of guilt towards the way he treated his aunt while growing up. He looked over at you. It was a silent conversation you both were having between one another. You mouthed, "Do you want me to go?" so he could have this moment alone.

With a shake of his head, 'No,' Luke spoke up to get his aunt's attention. "Aunt Janet…I'm sorry. I'm sorry for…for all the Hell I put you through while living here. You did so much for Nell and me, and the others that I…shit all over it. I stole and lied to you like it was my job. You deserved better. I just want you to know that…me getting hooked on drugs…well…that was…no matter what had happened…it was my choice to go down that path of destruction. I love you, Aunt Janet, and I am so appreciative of the sacrifices you made for my siblings and me. I wish that I weren't such a fuck up…"

"Oh sweetheart, no, you are not a…fuck up," Aunt Janet interjected and continued, "Not at all. I love you so much that…I would do anything for you, you know that, right? Your childhood is in the past. It happened. It is a part of you. The fact that you are continuing to remain clean after all that has occurred…well, that is something you should be most proud of. It shows that you are dedicated to your sobriety and turning your life around. No one said this process was easy, but you stayed the course and continued to make good decisions. As I told you earlier, you are becoming the man I always knew you could be."

"Now, I'm going to cry," Luke giggled as he dabbed his eyes with a napkin. "I didn't mean to turn this into a sob fest, but I wanted you to know that I'm sorry for what I put you through and that I love you very much, Aunt Janet."

Aunt Janet emerged from her seat to wrap her arms around her nephew and kiss the top of his head. It was a sweet moment to witness.

#luke crain #luke crain x reader #luke crain x female reader #the haunting of hill house #oliver jackson cohen

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the-great-tiger-of-mumbai · 4 years ago

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This blog still active?

//TL;DR: Semi-active and a lurker more often than not. I ended up writing a fucklong essay as a response, lmao, so I’m just gonna tuck that under the Read Below.

I’m busier more often than not, and part of the inactivity with the Tiger blog is mostly because of the lack of a fuller Punch-Out!! community to interact with. I’ve tried reaching out to other fandoms, OCs, and even the Smash community, but each interaction felt so isolated and in a bubble that I end up burning my muse out quickly. This doubles when I use up prompts.

My RP style, I come to realize, works best with a thriving community that interacts with each other even if I’m absent, with constant storytelling that gives us motivations to meet up, catch up, solve problems, and feel alive. For the most part nowadays, you’ll find me RPing in WoW as a Storyteller, as not only can we RP in real time, but I can watch others interact and feel more of a community to merge into. Some years ago, the Punch-Out!! community had that--I was the resident Great Tiger, there were a handful of Macs, Joes, and Arans, we had a Don, we even had a Carmen. Folks would come to Tiger for shenanigans usually involving him being a shitlord showboat around them, or just for nice hangouts. Hell, some of the best interactions I’ve had often involved pushing Tiger into romance despite being asexual and averse to relationships, or when there was a story thread going on. Alas, not everyone can put the time and energy in RPing a thread like I do, and people run out of muse for good. And that’s perfectly fine and valid. Fads come and go, interests change, people outgrow, graduate, get work, get married, etc. Life moves on. I’m still in contact with some RP buddies and I still check out their blogs on Tumblr. Myself? I mostly lurk nowadays on other people’s RP blogs just to see how they’re doing because I still enjoy watching other people interact. And if I do actually RP, it’s likely going to be on @peppy-pilot, as the Star Fox community is still fairly thriving.

I can, however, be more active when there are people to be active with.... but frankly, I can’t RP in an isolated bubble via one-on-one threads anymore. I need a community. I want to sit at tables and watch my colleagues talk about their recent date gone back. I want to have a poker game wherein we all yell on top of our lungs over who is cheating or not. I want casual hangouts in the gym where we throw barbs at each other while sparring or just exercising. And no, I’m not talking ships and coffee dates and happy endings AU where nobody is anyone’s enemy--they feel obviously constructed, lifeless, inorganic, and frankly, boring. Most RP I see within Tumblr (so not just Punch-Out!!) are very heavily involved shipping, interactive fix-fics, and isolated incidents that go nowhere, especially AUs where continuity doesn’t matter. I’m not slamming on those who enjoy them, though. You do you. And I did enjoy them for a time. But when that is all I have for RP, then I lost interest fast as I am taken out of the element wherein I join the RP to begin with: living the life of an Indian boxer capable of magic.

There is also the fact that few people will put as much effort into how I RP and it frustrates me. I have nothing--absolutely nothing--against people who only want short, sweet, shitposty funtimes; they’re fun too. But sometimes I want something well meaning that brings genuine character development. And sometimes... people don’t care about Tiger being more than a magical handsome Hindi-speaking boxer in a turban. And that’s fine--because in the end, in Nintendo canon, that’s all he really is. Sadly, past experiences with some RP here often don’t try to explore the humanity in our interactions beyond ships and other superficial scenarios. It gets tiring.

And the same applies with my partners as well. If I’m going to interact with a Don Flamenco or an Aran Ryan, for instance, I don’t just want our interactions entirely be about Carmen, potatoes, and cheeseburgers. Give me a peek into Don’s life under Francisco Franco, or what Aran thinks about the Troubles. Give me Don’s opinions of Spain’s historical fascination of France and how it shaped Madrid today. Give me Aran’s thoughts on why he’s speaking English when he could be speaking Gaelic. No? Too hard? Too much history? Too much research to do? You just want to focus RP and interactions with Don using eyeliner and Aran having McDonald’s? Fine, go ahead, you can have your fun, I give you my blessings. But know that, in contrast, it’ll feel like my countless, countless hours of researching Sikh and Mumbaikar culture, hand and head gestures, understandings of the English language, fashion, Mumbai’s city demographics and layouts, the impact of the 1984 Sikh Massacre, and making Great Tiger a living and breathing person beyond memes would be absolutely complete waste of time.

I am not dissuading anyone from interacting with me if all you want to do is silly fun shitposty shenanigans. Those are fun, we can do it. But I will be absolutely upright and upfront in that I might get bored with that quickly, and if you panic at the idea of trying to keep up with me, just so you can have quality Great Tiger interactions, stop right there. It’s just roleplay. It’s supposed to be fun. And I am not your be-all-end-all person for all your Great Tiger needs. Don’t force yourself into something you will not enjoy. I will never forget about the time I have accidentally discouraged people from roleplay because I took the moment to tell someone that you should not mistaken turban-wearing Indians for Muslims. I am fully aware I intimidate people, but that is mostly because I’m a culture/history nerd who has been reading, writing, and creating since the 90s. I just have more experience under my belt and my RP needs are a reflection of that. If you’re absolutely new, hit me up. If you’re also experienced and want to try me out, go for it and send me an Ask or tag me in a post! If we’re not compatible, we’re not compatible, but at least we gave it a try. Discord is also an option (and a far better medium for private one-on-one RPs than Tumblr), and if you like WoW and are able to join a private server, I’m available on Freedom. As of this writing we’re currently on Legion in the Suramar arc and my main characters are a couple of draenei twins and an orc.

#that long response wasn't necessary but I feel I needed to get that off my chest #[OOC]#Anonymous

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recentanimenews · 4 years ago

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OPINION: How Umineko Changed My Entire Approach to Fictional Media

All screenshots captured on Playstation 3 by author

The following article contains a discussion of thematic elements and motives that appear during the second half of Umineko When They Cry. While no actual plot details will be revealed, some might still consider it spoilery. So if you want to experience one of the greatest pieces of fiction ever completely untainted, you should check it out on Steam right now.

The internet is pretty rad, isn't it? You can follow your favorite creators, watch tons of awesome shows, and talk about your favorite things with other people. How about we do that right now? Well, too bad, because YOUR FAVORITE THING IS BAD, ACTUALLY! You made the mistake of posting about it online, so prepare to be sent lots of negative comments linking to 5-hour video essays pointing out every single flaw about your favorite story and why you are wrong for enjoying it!

It's a situation I'm sure many of us have experienced at least a couple of times online. While the internet can be fantastic for finding like-minded people to chat with about things you deeply love, it can also be a gamble and sometimes you end up in a discussion where your conversational partner seems more interested in showing off their intellectual superiority over a work instead of openly discussing its merits or flaws. I certainly know — I used to be one of them.

"As I've eaten my way through countless tales to escape boredom, I haven't really been eating them. I've just been killing them." - Hachijo Tohya

The rise of social media has opened the gates for some incredible in-depth discussion and has changed the way I experience things over the years. But there is also a dark side to the discussions on the internet and that is the trap of wanting to feel intelligent in how you approach stories, which is often accompanied by not really being emotionally earnest. I myself tried to come off as perceptive by pointing out so many mistakes and bad things about media which led to exactly one thing: me becoming absolutely miserable. All I cared about was consuming as many things as possible (FOMO's also one of the many downsides of social media) and appearing as "smart" about them as I could. Until one fateful 10-month stretch in which I played a certain visual novel known as Umineko When They Cry.

Umineko really is tailor-made for catching people with that mindset: It depicts a mystery story about how mystery stories are told and consumed — and what genre would be more fitting to challenge someone concerned with intellectual superiority than one that is all about the clash of Author vs Reader?

"Books aren't a competition. It's not about who's read the most. But boasting that you've read all your ever need to read is just as wrong-headed" - Battler Ushiromiya

Umineko starts off with a well-known mystery trope: A family meets up in a mansion on a distant island, gets cut off by a storm, and then slowly gets murdered one after the other until everyone is dead. And just as in Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None (which served as one of Umineko's main inspirations), a bottle detailing the events of the incident to the public eventually washes ashore. But this only serves as Umineko's prologue, as its main character Battler quickly finds himself facing off against a self-proclaimed Golden Witch known as Beatrice on a meta-narrative level where he must prove these gruesome killings could have been committed by a human culprit, or be forced to acknowledge her existence and allow her to fully revive.

Thus begins a game of chess filled with exceedingly preposterous murders in which our protagonist's family gets killed by demons, giant goat butlers, and sharpshooting bunny girls — all supplemented by the so-called Red Truth, a truth-revealing tell not unlike Martha's vomiting in Knives Out. Battler must use these authorial proclamations and find a loophole that enables him to explain the murders in a way that does not frame any of his beloved family members as the killer and still allows him to deny the existence of the gruesome and torturous witch.

Umineko's all about how stories are perceived and told by both their creator and their audience. It explores how remarks by the author in every situation — no matter how off-hand they might be — can be used, applied, and twisted to shed a completely different light on a story regardless of its original intent. It shows how adding meaning to a narrative that wasn't meant to be there can both add to or subtract from its most important element: The heart its creator wanted to convey.

"If I had found meaning in only exposing the truth, I would have sunk to the level of a truth-revealing witch and fallen into ruin, spreading only hatred, [...], crushing and refusing to acknowledge anything but the particular truth I seek, unable to escape the cycle of misery." - Ange Ushiromiya

Umineko goes through many different angles of how we create, share, and discuss the tales that fuel our discourse. It ponders the importance of rules when creating storylines and tackles how easy it is to overlook major themes and motives by just focussing on minute details that are open to misinterpretation and irrelevant to a story's soul. It even includes the typical misanthropic yet oh so intelligent detective that usually gets idolized in most media (think BBC's Sherlock or House, M.D.) and puts them at odds with every other character because who would really want to cooperate with someone that completely disregards you as an equal human being and merely perceives you as an amalgation of hints, motives and alibis?

"Sheesh! Just one more step and I'd have been able to take a heart as innocent as the smooth sand just after a wave had pulled back and tear it to bits. What a shame. This isn't fun anymore." - Erika Furudo

And just when you start to really get into Umineko, it moves away from its main conflict, providing you important hints for its solution which most readers ignore as they aren't presented with facts and logic but on an emotional level distanced from the characters we long to get back to. But most importantly, it conveys how one single element is so indispensable to enjoying the narrative odysseys we embark on in our lives, to cherishing the characters that are presented to us in these tales, and to truly understand a story's message behind things like story developments, plot twists, and narrative tricks. I, of course, am talking about love.

Be it the love you feel for characters, for certain staging elements, phrasings of prose, orchestrations of music, design of sound effects, implementations of themes and motives, or cinematographic puzzle pieces — the one thing that is indispensable to truly enjoy all kinds of media, is love. Or, to quote Umineko directly, "Without love, it cannot be seen."

By the time, I was nearing the end of Umineko's eight main chapters, it had transformed from an intellectual battle between author and reader to an all-out war of a story against its community of readers who simply wanted to tear it down to cold, hard "facts." I had spent ten months and over 100 hours. The first half took eight of those months to get through (owing to a few lengths in Episodes 2 and 4), I finished the second half in less than two despite my busy schedule. I even dedicated a whole 15-hour marathon to the final episode as I was too glued to the grand finale to move away from it.

A new me came out the end. I no longer had an interest in tearing apart media for minor missteps. I enjoyed them much more deeply and honestly and began taking my time with the things I consumed. Instead of filling my plate at the buffet of stories as much as I could, I gave each dish its own course on the menu so I could appreciate its flavor in a different way — one bite at a time and not stuffed up simply to give the outward appearance of a seasoned gourmet. And for that, I will never be able to thank Ryukishi07 and his co-creators at 07thExpansion enough.

"The point of theory-making is not to create a culprit or to trample the truths that lie in the hearts of those who have not sinned. If you want to play detective, don't neglect the heart. Otherwise, we're just intellectual rapists. Don't forget it!!" - Willard H. Wright

If you are interested in reading Umineko When They Cry, you can find both its Question Arcs and its Answer Arcs on Steam, GOG, and MangaGamer. You can also read the manga adaptation digitally on Bookwalker (though I personally recommend the visual novel for its award-worthy soundtrack alone).

What work of fiction has touched your life in a profound way? Tell us in the comments!

René Kayser works for Crunchyroll as a PR and Social Media Manager in Germany. You can find him on Twitter @kayserlein where he tries to get people into Umineko every single day.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: [email protected]

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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aaaa-mpersand · 4 years ago

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OCtober Day 11: Craft

Just flower crowns and siblings being wholesome. These are all my characters, and the setting is modern day. Italics means they are speaking in Spanish, non-italics means they are speaking in English.

thank you @oc-growth-and-development for the prompt

Julian yawned into his mouth as he opened the door to his room, late-morning light streaming inside. It was the weekend, and most importantly, it was winter break, which meant no little sisters would be barging into his room at 7am to smack him with pillows and demand he keep a consistent sleep schedule. There was no school, either, to make him pull on his clothes and rush to catch the carpool with his friends.

He’d spent a lazy morning lying in bed until he felt awake enough to get up, the clock above him reading 11am. He could already hear the sounds of his little sister’s laughter through the walls as Julian made his way to the kitchen. The sound of music carried down the hallway, a steady beat thumping through a phone speaker, and his brother’s voice singing along. “Y no sé por qué nos dejamos, Si tú me amas y––” Kaspar cut himself off in the middle of his singing as he spotted Julian in the doorway, his arm frozen over the pan on the stove. His mouth split into one of those smiles that made him look like a dog sticking its head out the car window. “Your breakfast is on the table, sleepyhead. Make sure you don’t get any of it on your sisters’ things.”

Confused, Julian craned his neck to peer into the room. He saw his sisters had an assortment of flowers spread all over the table. The plate that was his breakfast had been delegated to a space at the edge, looking like it was about to fall off. He walked towards it, reaching to pull a seat for himself, but his older sister’s deft fingers stopped in their weaving to give Julian a pointed stare.

“The floor, Julian,” Elena said. Julian sighed, and reached down to lift the chair off the ground instead. The floor was littered with scratches from when Kaspar and Elena were not around to remind Lyn and Julian, and the years before when no one had cared.

Julian sank into his seat, clearing ample space around his plate so none of the flowers would be splattered with eggs and sauce. He pointed to the scene around him, and glanced at his little sister. “What’s this?”

“Flowers,” Lyn said, looking up at him. Julian rolled his eyes. “I know that.”

“I had time this morning, so I went out to collect them,” Elena shrugged, “I haven’t had the time to do this in ages, so I thought why not.”

“Your essay is due tomorrow, ‘Lena,” Kaspar pointed out from where he was cooking, turning down the music coming from his phone so he could join their conversation.

“Like I said,” Elena said, weaving quicker now, “I have no reason to not be doing this right now.”

Kaspar breathed a laugh that was both fond and exasperated, but let the matter go. Julian knew his older brother had no upper ground to stand on, seeing as the only assignment Kaspar had written more than two hours before the deadline had been a sleep-deprived analysis on a soccer team that he’d written instead of his essay.

“So what are you doing?” Julian said, turning to glance at his little sister, who was staring hard at the half-finished weave in her hands, as if that would make it weave itself. It had obviously been made with minimal help from Elena, from how its knots were nowhere near as tight and neat.

“I’m helping,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. Julian merely raised his eyebrows, putting another mouthful of eggs into his mouth. Lyn scowled, and folded a stem under another as if to prove her point. “It twists the other way there, Lyn,” Elena said, barely glancing up from her work.

Julian took his time with his food, letting himself savor the lazy morning. Kaspar turned his music back up as the conversation died down, and he sang along to lyrics he knew and lyrics he didn’t. Julian looked up from his plate once or twice to throw in song recommendations, which Kaspar graciously tapped into the queue.

One by one, the finished flower crowns piled on the table. Lyn found flower weaving was not her forte, passing her unfinished flower crown to Elena, and decided it would be more fun to ferry each of them one by one to Kaspar, who accepted them with compliments and thanks to the messenger. She put two on Elena’s head as well––one of blue flowers, another of purple––who thanked her with a nod and a small smile. Julian finished his meal, and got up to wash his plate.

As he finished rinsing his cutlery and plate, Lyn padded up to him with a crown of pink and yellow blooms in her hand. She held it out to him. “I already gave the blue one to Lena,” she said. “But you can have this one.”

“You couldn’t at least have gotten me the one that wasn’t pink?” he grumbled halfheartedly, putting his plate on the drying rack.

“How old are you, twelve?” Elena said, sending him a raised eyebrow. Julian shot her a brief glare.

He glanced down at Lyn, who was still holding the flower crown out with a stubborn scowl. Knowing it would be futile to disagree with her, he crouched down to let his little sister place it on his head. Her demeanor instantly changed, all beams and bright smiles. Julian sighed loudly.

“If you don’t want it,” Kaspar said, wearing so many different flower crowns that he had to use one hand to keep it on his head. “You can give it to me.” “You already have five,” Julian said, narrowing his eyes at him. He stuck his tongue out at his older brother, and turned to walk out. “Vete a la mierda”

He ignored Lyn’s smug smile as he stepped out of the kitchen.

#my writing #oc-tober #kaspar reveiro #elena reveiro #my ocs #lyn riveiro #julian riveiro

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creatlysse · 5 years ago

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Just watched SPOP S5 Trailer

First of all, let me just say before I get on a rant about this, I’m not happy. For multiple reasons but the main being that this is the final season and the trailer looks like this season is gonna mess me up.

Alright, now to discussing my feelings about the trailer because like I said, I’m not happy.

! SPOILER WARNING !

So, the trailer music is what I want to discuss first because holy shit, the theme of SPOP is supposed to be light-hearted and up-beat but this?? This is a piano, slow version. It already set the scene for s5, we all know now that this season isn’t gonna be butterflies and rainbows.

Adora walks out to what I assume to be a rebellion camp and we see Bow in the distance and what I think to be Perfuma? There are these kind-of drones in the sky. And then it fades to a black screen and Adora starts talking.

“When I broke the sword...” There’s a callback to the s4 ending, for when Adora is in her She-Ra form and she’s breaking the sword. Then we see the sword broken on some kind of table and all of it’s pieces are there. “... I thought I could make my own destiny.” Adora grabs the broken sword, the handle of it. I believe she’s staring at the gem of it when she brings it close to her face. “I don’t know what my destiny is anymore.”

The next scene is what is most likely to be Horde Prime’s drone soldiers walking out of a base. I think we all know this means war for certain.

The next scene over is Catra in Horde Prime’s mother ship, staring out to the actual world. We get a close-up of her face. I believe she’s staring out to see the stars, because we all know that everyone in that world except for maybe Hordak hasn’t ever seen stars in their lives. I also believe that she’s thinking over her mistakes because if I remember correctly, in s4 ending, she finally realizes that her actions are catching up to her.

Glimmer is in a cage in the next scene. Or, more specifically, a cell. She;s getting out of bed and she looks melancholy. I think we’re gonna have a full turn-over on Glimmer in this season. I don’t mean that she’s gonna join the opposite side, I just think this isn’t gonna be our Glimmer anymore in this season. Or, maybe, she’s gonna go back to being our shiny and sparkly Glimmer, but with heavy PTSD. Either way, s4 messed 4 Glimmer and poor baby is being held hostage now.

Next scene, we see the Princesses and SeaHawk backing up to each other’s backs and they’re surrounded by drones. Quick side note, I hate how well that scene fits in with the line of music in the background, ‘danger surrounds us...’

Oh my god I can’t tell y’all how much this next scene means to me. Adora, who has NEVER seen a single star in her LIFE, moreover ANYTHING that relates to space, and thought that MAGIC WAS BAD at the start of the series, is on a field with a dark sky full of stars and a portal in front of her. Moreover, what I can assume to be Mara, is watching over her and seeing everything she fought so hard to protect and hide away, be out in the light again and open for anyone to attack. Adora drops to her knees in front of the portal and what I assume to be Mara (ACTUALLY MAYBE ITS THE VERSION OF THE SWORD HUMANIZED JUST FOR THIS MOMENT AND IT’S FULLY WHITE AND WE CAN’T SEE SHIT BECAUSE THE SWORD IS BROKEN). Side note, I hate how the music fits in well again because in the exact moment that it says ‘but won’t bring us down,’ Adora falls to her knees.

The next two scenes don’t exactly fit in together but I’ll talk about them in the same paragraph. There’s ships, Horde Prime’s, flying around. And the next scene? Mermista, Perfuma, Frosta, and Scorpia. I have long awaited a moment with Scorpia fully stood with the princesses but not like this. They’re looking at a castle, maybe a base. Probably where Horde Prime is holding Glimmer.

“I can’t do this alone.” - Adora. CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT YOU CAN TAKE FROM ME OVER MY COLD, DEAD BODY. Adora has said throughout ALL the seasons that she needed to do something alone at some point. She’s finally learning that she can’t, in fact, do everything alone. She’s all alone in the Whispering Woods, holding her backpack. I love the next scene because Bow, WHO THOUGHT THAT HIS FRIENDS WEREN’T GOING TO SAVE THEM AND DIDN’T CARE FOR HIM. says “You aren’t alone. You’ve never been.” I can’t tell y’all how much this breaks and rebuilds my heart. They hold hands in agreement, in alliance.

Maiden’s mercy, I hate the next scene as much as I love it. The princesses, INCLUDING ENTRAPTA AND SCORPIA FINALLY, King Micah, Bow, and Shadow Weaver are standing all with each other and something opens up to them. “It’s the Horde forces!!” you might say, but I raise you: It’s a First Ones base. I have two reasons for this: Have you looked at the way the light poses to a triangle? That’s a door to a First Ones base. The other reason? Entrapta is smiling happily in the background. She’s excited.

Next over, we have the Prime Horde’s castle which I talked about earlier, lighting up to see a giant hologram of Prime Horde. Next thing you know, we get to see him for real and he squints his eyes and snaps his fingers. The screen goes black and we hear Horde Prime speak. “Goodbye, my oldest enemy.” We see Adore, IN A FIRST ONES BASE CHAIR.

Next few scenes, we see the princesses fighting the Horde and protecting each other. Horde soldiers in the woods, Adora fighting against some Horde soldiers in a clear field. We can see Mermista using her ocean powers and trying to overcome them with a wave. We see Scorpia protect Frosta from drones. We see other Hordes (Hordaks?). We see Adora and a person I can’t make out about to jump out of a ship into space. We see Catra running through a ship, looking more worried than anything. We see Adora, Bow, and Glimmer (I THINK SHE’S BROKEN OUT?? OR MAYBE SHE TELEPORTED) running across a crystal with three other people. So, good news! New characters. We see Adora, Bow, Scorpia, and Swift Wing. They’re all sliding down a hill. We see the princesses (except for Scorpia), a single rebellion soldier, King Micah, and Shadow Weaver standing around Adora. We see Horde soldiers shooting out towards the princesses but they’re under a protective net, NETOSSA. “Prime holds every advantage in this fight.”

Oh my god the next scene is Catra looking at Glimmer in her cell. Meaning that yes, we’re gonna get a talk and/or scene between them. Uhh, next scene over, we see Shadow Weaver doing magic (trying to hold something back?).

Next scene over, Horde Prime is talking. “No longer shall She-Ra stand in my way.” Adora is raising her head from her hands and then she’s fighting in the next snippet. We see an up-close of Prime, and then we see Netossa shedding a tear (IF THEY HURT SPINNERELLA WE RIOT). Next few scenes, it’s the Horde soldiers fighting against the princesses and them fighting back.

ALRIGHT THE MOMENT EVERYONE HAS BEEN WAITING FOR TO TALK ABOUT THAT MESSES EVERYONE UP THE MOST: “Hello, Adora” BY CATRA. Alright, let me talk about this because this has me fucked up and scared for this season. Adora is standing in front of a few crystals and seeing their energy, and then she turns back. Then, we see Catra walking in her Force Commander outfit, but then it glitches back to her Season 1-3 outfit. THIS HAS ME MESSED UP AND I CAN WRITE AN ESSAY ABOUT THIS. Every single time in every single season, there’s always the “Hey, Adora~” moment, even when they’re on opposite sides. God, Catra is pining hard throughout the seasons. And then we hear this shit on the trailer and Catra saying “Hello, Adora” in a hesitant voice rather than the smug “Hey, Adora” we all know and love is heart-breaking and this fucks me up. On another one, not any lighter, we’ve seen Catra’s image glitch once before in s3. What did that bring? That’s right, heartbreak and acceptance and trying to move on. In s3, Catra played a mental game with Adora to just have Adora again but the moment it glitched and Adora knew what was wrong, she realized it was all Catra’s fault. And then, in that chapter of s3, Catra’s mistakes caught up to her and that’s when she realized that everything had actually changed and Adora was done trying to justify Catra’s actions. And Catra finally realized that Adora wasn’t the same one she knew. She finally realized. “Hello, Adora.”

We see Bow escaping from attacks and then the screen cuts to Glimmer crying, “Why are you doing this?” It cuts to Glimmer being fierce in front of Horde Prime, “You will never win.” Horde Prime smiles.

Adora is fighting in the next scene. Then, it cuts to Horde Prime and Catra, most likely planning something. There’s a green smoke. “Destroy them all!” We get a close-up of Horde Prime and then Horde Soldiers running. Then we see Mermista being surrounded.

“No!” Adora cries in the next scene. She’s shaking her head, crying out.

Then, in the next scene, we see Adora reaching out for someone’s arm. Catra’s. “Hang on!” Catra better get a redemption arc this season or I will cry. Catra’s hand is shaking.

We see Glimmer grunting (or maybe Adora? I can’t tell.) She’s doing magic.

Then, in the next scene, we see Adora and her face being filled up by white points. The screen goes black.

“Adora!” Bow yells out.

The music fades out.

“For the honor... of...”

We get a close up of Adora’s face and she’s trying to yell. Her voice seems to long for something, anything. She wants to do something. She wants to get her magic back.

“Grayskull!”

She’s reaching out. I would like to believe she’s summoning the sword, the one that’s broken in pieces.

‘We’re gonna win in the end...’

I have some thoughts and some theories on this but that’s for another post. This one is long enough.

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leotssukinaga · 5 years ago

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Out of Reach- Mattsun x Reader, Makki x Reader

Chapter Four: Makki’s Ending

Series Masterlist

Summary: You’ve been friends with Mattsun, Makki, Iwaizumi and Oikawa since first year, and you guys are an unstoppable team. But your crush, and Makki’s, might just bring everything tumbling down A/N: I couldn’t get the sad ending to work on paper I literally spent like 3 hours trying and it just wouldnt. So this has two endings now, sorry! Both of them are gonna have an epligoue too. Those are gonna hurt you.

Watching you and Makki grow closer, as you drifted away from him, hurt Mattsun deeply. There'd been a time when it was him you asked to proof read your essays, him you baked good luck brownies for when he had an exam or a game. A time when you called him when things were bad and you needed a shoulder, or when it was raining and you forgot your umbrella and needed someone to bring you one. He'd never have imagined a day when that changed, and yet it came. He watched out the window of the library as Makki made his way towards you, umbrella in hand, and slung an arm round your shoulder as the two of you began to walk home. Maybe Oikawa had been right about this one. He hated to think it, but he couldn't deny that the evidence was there.

He'd never know that you thought Makki was just being a good friend, nor that the reason you'd drifted away from him was because you felt like you were drowning every time his girlfriend came up.You'd noticed, though, that slowly things had gotten easier. Nishiyama's name no longer made you feel sick, but Makki's hugs made butterflies bloom in your stomach. You hated your luck. Why couldn't you fall for a guy who wasn't your best friend?

• • • • • • • • • • "Okay, what's wrong?" "Nothings wrong, Makki." "You know I can tell when you're lying, right?" You sighed, looking up from your books and meeting his gaze. "I'm just thinking, is all." "What about?" You. "Nothing important." "You'd tell me if something was up, right?" "'Course I would." That's a lie, you thought, I'm catching feelings for yet another guy I can't have and this time it's you. Something had to be wrong with you. First Mattsun, now Makki? And it wasn't like you had anyone to go to, this time. Iwa was focused on school and volleyball right now, bothering him would be a shitty thing to do, and Oikawa would just be insufferable about this. Mattsun had been your first friend in high school, and going to your first crush to talk about your new crush felt wrong, especially considering you weren't entirely over Mattsun anyway.

But there was so much you wanted to tell Makki, so much you could never say, that you had nobody to relay to. You could never admit that it'd been a while since you'd felt the need to run away when Nishiyama came up, but that you'd still made excuses because the times when you and Makki sat alone in a classroom, eating together and talking about anything that came to mind, made even your worst days bearable. You could never admit that the framed photo of you and Mattsun on your desk was now a photo of you and Makki (the Mattsun photo was still in your room, but it was on the wall with all the other photos of you and the squad now. You considered the desk sacred ground, where you put your most cherished memories,) or that you hadn't actually forgotten your jacket for a while now, you just liked when he gave you his. You couldn't tell him that every playlist you'd made in the past month had him as the icon, that every character in every book you read bore his face when you imagined them. He'd never know that when you stopped writing in class to stare out the window, you hoped you'd see him walking by, despite knowing that he was in class too. Nor that every poem in the notebook you kept under your pillow was written for him, that you'd bought a new one especially for that.

Likewise, there were things Makki could never tell you- though both your secrets could be spilled if even one of them left your mouths. He'd never tell you that he had alarms set for the middle of the night, just in case you needed company; that his favourite hoodie was only his favourite because it was the one he always gave to you; that he didn't even have a favourite colour until you told him yours in first year and suddenly it was his, too. Nor that he had an album on his phone of pictures he'd taken of cats to send to you when you were upset; that when his teacher asked him to write about love he wrote about you. You didn't know that if he never got into heaven, he'd still spend eternity happy enough, knowing that he got to hold you in his arms just once while you slept (you'd gotten the flu, and he got it too because he refused to leave your side.) How could he ever tell you that he understood now, why people gave up everything for love, because he would pull the stars from the sky and arrange them around you if only to see you smile for a moment? That he'd never felt closer to understanding himself than when you looked into his eyes? You both had your secrets, and neither of you knew that they converged on the same path. But perhaps, one day, you'd find out.

• • • • • • • • • • "Hey, Y/N?" You turned to see Mattsun jogging to catch up with you, and waited. "Oh hey, whats up, Mattsun?" "I need to ask you something." He couldn't help but think how cute you were as you cocked your head slightly in curiosity. "What is it?" "Are you and Makki together?" Your face flushed, and you looked away. "I-ah...no. We aren't." "But you want to be, right?" "H-How'd you know?" "You're not good at hiding when you're flustered, Y/N." You smiled a little. You remembered why you'd fallen for him, how could you forget? Even as the feelings faded, he'd always hold a place in your heart. "You should tell him." It broke his heart to say it, but he wanted you to be happy. Makki could do that. "I can't, Mattsun." "Why?" "Because, I'm tired of falling for guys that don't like me! If I ignore it maybe it'll go away." "You know it won't." You groaned and buried your face in his shoulder. Things were so much easier when you liked Mattsun, because you knew he didn't like you. With Makki, you had no proof, just your own insecurities. That just made everything worse. "What do I do, then?" "You know what I'm gonna say." "I hate this." "I'm about to be the worst friend ever." "What d'you mean?" "He likes you." "Mattsun..." "I'm serious. Middle of first year, on a training camp, he told me he thought he was in love with you.Honestly, I thought he was kidding, but looking back I don't think I've ever seen him that serious. And it makes sense, you know? Just... you should tell him." "You're sure he meant it?" "Yeah, I'm sure." He hoped Makki wouldn't be too mad at him for telling you. This was for the best, right? You'd date Makki, he'd move on from you and be happy with Nishiyama. Things would be good. Yeah. Things would be great.

• • • • • • • • • • Makki rounded the corner, excited to see you. At least, until he actually saw you, and you were talking to Mattsun. You were blushing, and his heart broke a little as you buried your face in his shoulder. Of course you still liked Mattsun He was stupid, really, letting himself dream. Letting himself hope that you didn't, that you'd developed feelings for him instead. He should've learned, back when you first told him about your crush. Why hadn't he learned?

• • • • • • • • • • When the doorbell rang that evening, Makki ignored it. His parents had late visitors pretty often. When someone knocked on his bedroom door, however, he couldn't ignore that. He hadn't expected you, though. Honestly, you looked like you'd run a marathon, and you were biting incessantly at your lip. You were still perfect, but he wasn't sure you could ever not be. "Y/N... somethings wrong." "No there's not... I need to talk to you. Can I come in?" "Always." He stepped aside and you walked into his room. You immediately began to pace. "Whats got you so worked up?" "I must be going insane, I'm not actually gonna do this, am I?" "Do wha-" You interrupted him, certain you’d never get the words out if you didn’t say them right there and then. "I stopped liking Mattsun like, a month ago. At least." That piqued his interest. "Why didn't yo-" "Because you're the reason. I don't know when I started to like you but God, everything I feel for you is so much stronger than any thing I've ever felt before. Every poem I've written has been about you, every thought I have has you buried in it somewhere. Mattsun was- I don't know. Maybe I was infatuated with him? I genuinely don't think it matters anymore because all I fucking think about is you, Takahiro. And I wasn't gonna tell you, I was just gonna pine for you for eternity because I couldn't handle the idea that you might not feel the same. But I'm just tired, Makki. I need to know. So could you maybe get a readable expression on your face before I have an anxiety attack, please?" And he did. His mouth dropped open. "You..." "Yes." "Christ alive." "You know, that's so not helpful." "Sorry I just... I spend nearly 3 years convinced you'll never like me and you wait a month and decide to tell me anyway?" "I'm impatient." "Well, I know that.” "Wait- 3 years?" "About that, yeah." You smiled, and reached out to take his hand. It was warm, and rough- calloused from years of volleyball- but he was gentle as he slipped his fingers between yours. "You know, I like it when you say my given name." "I'll have to do it more often then, Takahiro." The smile he gave you could've melted your heart. Everything about him could, if you were being honest. You didn't mind. It was his to melt.

#my writing #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu imagines #matsukawa #matsukawa issei #mattsun #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #mattsun x reader #hanamaki takahiro #hanamaki #makki #hanamaki x reader #hanamaki takahiro x reader

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snezfics-n-shit · 4 years ago

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Whumptober Day 26: Faint

Fandom: Ace Attorney

Characters: Godot, Phoenix Wright, Maya Fey, Franziska von Karma

Notes: Post-SoJ, Godot has recently been released from prison. Phoenix and Maya take him out for burgers and ketchup catching up. Human socialization? For Godot? He’ll take it. Too bad there’s someone who wants to ruin his fun.

“Don’t you think your first restaurant visit after prison should be something, I don’t know, nicer?” Phoenix stared at the Burger Barn menu. Was this really Godot’s idea? The coffee served there wasn’t even that good. “Miles offered us a reservation at a five star place downtown.” At least at somewhere more high end, the brand new suit Phoenix bought specifically for this event would have been appropriate. He still wore it, but it was definitely out of place.

“Are you saying this place isn’t nice, Nick?” Maya gaped in feigned hurt. “How could you!?”

“Yeah, how could you, Nick?” Hearing Godot call him ‘Nick’ made Phoenix uneasy. Maybe ‘Trite’ had a nice ring to it after all. “This isn’t for me, anyway. It’s for the Master.” Godot shot an affectionate smile at Maya. “Mia’s so proud of you. I promised we’d take you here once they released me.”

“Yeah, she didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but I got her to tell me!” Maya laughed. “Sorry Pearly couldn’t make it, by the way. She and Trucy are comparing admissions essays tonight.”

“Who?” Godot stared at the two. “I know Pearl, but who’s the other one?”

“Oh, Trucy? My daughter.” Phoenix presented Trucy’s senior photo he kept in his wallet. “She’s around Pearl’s age, actually.”

“What the hell!?” Godot raising his voice caught the attention of the other patrons in line. “Then why didn’t you drag her around and put her in harm’s way at Hazakura Temple?”

“She’s adopted.” Maya corrected him. “I made the same mistake, honestly.”

Did Phoenix even look old enough to have a biological daughter Trucy’s age? Who would be Trucy’s mother if she was his? He certainly wasn’t surrounded by women during the year Trucy was born.

“I think I’m going to pick out a place for us to sit.” Phoenix excused himself. “I don’t want anything, so you two can order without me.” Now that he had essentially been spoiled with home cooking, Phoenix had little interest in fast food. That, and he wanted Maya to understand how it felt to deal with a notorious fry thief.

He found a clean table next to the booths. There were four chairs, so he could use the extra one to hold coats unless someone from another table asked to use it. He couldn’t help but notice a familiar shade of blue in the corner of his eye and tried to pretend he wasn’t there.

“I know you can see me.” A woman in the booth next to him spoke. “How foolish to think you can call ducking your head ‘hiding.’”

“Oh, uh,” Phoenix laughed nervously, fully acknowledging the woman, “hi, Franziska.”

“You look frightened.” Franziska observed, not at all realizing that maybe, just maybe, it could be the whip sitting beside her. “You shouldn’t be,” she glared at Godot standing in line, “but he should.”

“Who? Godot?”

“He shouldn’t be here.” She stuck up her nose.

“Is he not actually released from prison?” Phoenix blinked a few times. “Did we accidentally help him escape?”

“No, he’s been released. He should be at home.”

“So, he’s on house arrest now?”

“No, he-” Franziska stopped herself and looked away as soon as Godot and Maya approached the table with their food; to put it more accurately, Maya’s food and Godot’s coffee cup.

Wait, was that some kind of string dangling around from the cup?

“Hi, Franziska!” Maya greeted her, completely blowing any attempt of cover. “Since when did you eat at Burger Barn?” She wasted no time after setting down the tray to start digging in.

“I don’t.” Franziska answered flatly. The bacon cheeseburger with the works, apple pie, and strawberry shake on her tray said otherwise. “I, um,” her ears looked red, “was told to order something if I wanted to sit here.”

“How’s Adrian doing?” Maya tilted her head before grabbing a handful of fries. “And why are you here ‘just to sit here?’”

“She is well, thank you.” Franziska took a sip of her shake. “She’s overseeing some renovations to our home right now. As for why I’m here, I have been tasked with monitoring Godot’s wellbeing until we’ve found someone suitable for helping him adjust to life out of prison.”

“You missed me that much, Princess?” Godot smirked. “After your chat with that author, you just had to see me again.” He took a brief sip from his cup, his hand obstructing Phoenix’s view of whatever was attached to the string.

“You really went through with that book deal?” Maya hummed. “Is that why you moved back here from Europe?”

“I did go through with it, yes. I left Godot’s apartment to discuss some things with that fool in the beret, but I told him I would only be out for a few hours.” Franziska took another, bigger sip of her shake. “I was on my way back to his apartment when I was informed he left home without my knowledge.” Franziska frowned at Godot, who was already confused why Phoenix was staring at him for so long. “Don’t even try to change the subject again, either. You know very well why you shouldn’t be here.”

“Doesn’t mean I care.” Godot shrugged and then directed his attention to Phoenix. “And what’s with you? I know you’ve seen a tea bag before.” His body swayed slightly in a way that didn’t look at all voluntary.

A tea bag? Wait.

“You should care.” Franziska stood up, preparing for what she saw coming a mile away. “You were explicitly instructed to stay home and monitor your temperature on an hourly basis.”

“We both know that’s overdoing it.” Godot leaned on the chair next to him.

“You were also told that if your fever went up, you would need to go to the hospital.”

“Are you sick, Godot?” Maya gently tapped Godot’s shoulder, causing him to lose some balance. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Yeah, but it’s not a big deal.” As if only to prove him wrong, a sensation crept up in Godot’s chest, prompting a barking cough that he had worked so hard to suppress; he had done such a good job doing so, too. “I was going to go home right after this.”

“Don’t listen to him.” Franziska commanded. She took a quick bite of her burger before she grabbed hold of Godot from under his arms. “He pulled this with Adrian when she checked in on him earlier. I refuse to allow a fool like him manipulate anyone with such lies, especially not my wife. I also will not stand for whatever foolish escape tactics he roped you two into employing.”

Phoenix reached for Maya’s fries while everyone was so caught up in the distraction, only to find she had managed to wolf down both her burger and all her fries while he wasn’t paying attention. With an inaudible sigh, he put on his coat, considering the group was likely going home soon.

“Actually, um,” Maya fidgeted with one of her hair beads, “we just picked him up like normal. We never would have guessed he wasn’t supposed to leave home.”

“Figures.” Franziska pursed her lips. “I’m going to hazard a guess that he’s been regularly dismissing himself to ‘watch videos of seals’ as well?”

“Hey! How did you know?” Maya looked surprised as if by the third time Godot was ‘sent a funny seal video,’ it wasn’t at all weird. “He said it was a habit he developed in prison.”

“So he was going to the bathroom just to cough?” Phoenix asked. “That’s actually better than what I was thinking.”

“You are disgusting! How foolish do you need to be to-” She suddenly felt Godot become much heavier in her arms. As she expected, his fever caused him to collapse. “Wright,” She hoisted an unconscious Godot over Phoenix’s shoulder, “you are to carry him to the limousine.”

“Why me?” Phoenix grunted as he carried Godot; just staying in place like this was doing a number on his back. Not only was Godot heavy, but there was no doubt his fever was high. Phoenix felt sweaty on every part of him that Godot touched.

“Because I said so, that’s why.” Franziska gave such a strong argument, no wonder she was considered a prodigy prosecutor early in her career. She must have attended the same law school as Phoenix’s mother. She huffed as she hurriedly put away the rest of her meal in the to-go bag, grumbling something when she heard Phoenix and Maya share a chuckle over her ‘required purchase’ story being a flat out lie. She pulled out her phone and tapped on a few touchscreen buttons. “Our ride will arrive shortly. We’re taking him to the hospital, so don’t expect a ride home so soon.”

“Wow, we’re going to the hospital in a limo!” Maya said as if this were some kind of amusement park attraction. “That’s so cool!”

“Maybe we, uh,” Phoenix adjusted Godot’s position over his shoulder, “should refrain from calling a trip to the hospital ‘cool.’”

“For one thing, at least, I agree with your foolish boss.” Franziska collected her things as she led the two conscious parties to the exit, paying no mind to the crowd of patrons who stared in fascination with the spectacle. “You do still assist him, yes?”

“Well, not really since I became the Master of Kurain, but it would be really fun to assist him again.”

“I see.” Franziska hailed the limousine that approached the parking lot. “If you should ever consider assisting me on an international case, Adrian and I would be more than happy to bring you along.”

Phoenix wasn’t allowed to open the door, as demonstrated by the driver stopping him before he could even try. When the driver at last allowed the group in the vehicle, Phoenix and Maya found themselves amazed by the spacious interior. It would be an understatement to say the back was just the right size for Godot to lie back in.

“I’ll consider your offer, but something’s been bothering me” Maya held her hand to her face.

“What? Besides Godot’s cough?” Phoenix didn’t bother pushing Godot off his shoulder as he felt the edge of Godot’s visor pressing against him. “Or how sweaty I’m going to be if he keeps radiating this much heat?”

“I just think Godot could have used a good whipping!” Maya declared, surprising Phoenix and making Franziska laugh until she snorted. “I mean it! That would have told him he should go home!”

“He could have, yes.” Franziska patted the feverish ex-convict on the back. “The whip is retired, though. I just take it around as a habit.”

“No way!” Maya’s volume was toeing the line of potentially waking Godot. “Maybe you’re sick, too.” She jokingly felt Franziska’s forehead. “You feel fine, but something’s up.”

“It just does not fit in where I want my life to be right now.” Franziska spoke matter-of-factly. “Am I not allowed to improve myself?”

“I never thought of it that way.” Something about what Franziska said felt familiar to Maya, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Didn’t stop you from threatening me with it whenever I got out of bed.” Just as the conversation reached its softest point, it was too late to prevent Godot from regaining consciousness. “For a more pressing matter, why aren’t we at Burger Barn?”

“You collapsed!” Franziska raised her voice. If Godot was awake, why bother toning herself down? “We’re taking you to the hospital. You’ll likely need another breathing treatment and you are not making any excuses this time.”

“Do you think I can use the whip if he tries anything?” Maya grinned. “Why let it gather dust?”

“I’d like to see you try.” Godot laughed, but soon enough there was that cough again. “This cough makes me miss being unconscious.”

“I don’t blame you.” Phoenix looked out the window, watching the scenery move along and keeping an eye out for landmarks that could tell him how close they were to the hospital. “That cough is pretty bad. Never heard one quite like it.”

“You know what?” Godot leaned back into the position he was in before he came to. “I’m going to wait and see if I can pass out again.”

“Then Nick can carry you again!” Maya clapped her hands together.

Phoenix had one thing to say to that.

“Objection!”

#whumptober #whumptober 2020 #sickfic whumptober alt #snez attorney

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lockdownuk · 4 years ago

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Lockdown Diary Part 3

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 61: Writing this in the afternoon on day 62. An exercise driven day. Two walks and stair climb as usual plus I popped round Jeff’s early evening. First time I’ve been to his house, 1 Garden Row, Elmington. It’s further than I thought so, with walking there an back, I managed a daily total of 14km. It was good to see him and have a social (but social-distanced) beer. When I got home, @9:45pm, I made thai green chicken curry, watch The Report (a great, if worrying film) and then TikTok-ed until gone 5am!

Day 62: Typing this on day 64! Beer round Karen’s. Missed Sam’s quiz.

Day 63: Typing this on day 64! Beer round Karen’s. Again! Well, it is bank holiday Monday! Had dirty pizza for tea and watched The Heat. Again! It is the most piss funny film.

Day 64: Well, I have been feeling guilty about treatung the bank holiday w/e l;ike a bank holiday w/e. It’s dawned on me that that guilt is way too self-disiciplned. I got up about midday, usual two walks and stair climb but that’s it. I need to clean the house from top to bottom, get on top of my online courses, get the garden done, get the car fixed, go shopping…fucking hell - if only I had the time…

Day 65: Today I swapped Amazon prime free trial for about the 5th time in my life. Same card and address - will they get wind of my skullduggery. This is all so I can finish watching Hunters and catch Homecoming S2. I went shopping at Asda near Raunds. I wish I hadn’t, it’s no good for a comprehensive shop. Received an email from RCI inviting me to a Zoom meeting with Pal Mulcahy for a business update. I fear the worst. And it’s at 10:00am, FFS!

Day 66: Logged in an attended zoom forum with Paul Mulcahy and over 250 RCI staff this morning. The message was that there is going to be redundancies. I expected this and expected to fall victim. All staff that are going to be put through cionsultation would be contacted today. I however wasn’t! Very, very surpised. meanwhile, Nick Reilly asked to connect via LinkedIn (including become a LinkedIn staff team member - that’s new to me so I’ll see what it is but I accepted the invitation) Later, I WhatsApp-ed him and asked who has been affected from IT. All he could tell me was no one on Jon Rodger’s team is under threat. Also, Mark C emailed - I’ll respond tomorrow. I got up at 09:00ish and had my mornming walk before the 10:00am meeting. I am now, at 09:30pm, fucking knackered. Dinner and then bed, methinks but not before one more episdoe of Hunters!

Day 67: Typing on Day 68. Got pretty drunk last night. I’ve got blisters from walking (new boots) so I don’t think I’ll walk tomorrow (well, today!).

Day 68: I did fuck all today. Got up after 1pm, no walking. I did manage to clean the bathroom (and smash my little mirror) and do my 26 stair climb. I am typing at 9pm and I feel whacked!

Day 69: I have an abscess. It’s not too painful (today) but I am going to call the dentist tomorrow (Monday). I think antibiotics are in order. I watched a film, which I actually started yesterday, called The Voices starring Ryan Reynolds, Gemma Arteton and Anna Kendrick. Fuuuuuuuuuuuucking weird. The closing credits are the most bizarre, in context, I’ve ever seen. But, in general, a very good film. Back to normal exercise regime today plus hovered the hall and stairs. Get me. It’ll be interetingh to see my Google Fit figures for May tomorrow.

Day 70: Contacted the dentist who advised salt water rinsing and ibuprofen. But, tbf, it’s a lot better today and the swelling has gone right down. The dentist I called was the Oundle House (Rodericks) one. I was not hopeful since last time I saw them they referred me to their Northampton clinic for root canal work which was quoted at over £600. However, the dentist was very nice, had my x-ray to hand from that last visit and seemed more interested in making sure I’m OK than gaining a paying customer. He still wants to see me when possible though! I must mention the weather. It has been glorious weather nearly every day throughout May (it’s June 1st today). Seriously sunny and like a holiday every day. The news mentioned it today - the level of sunshine throughout the transition from spring to summer is unprecedented, apparently. My T shirt tan is, quite frankly, ridiculous!

Day 71: Today’s ‘must mention’ is what’s going on in the US and it’s not particularly related to Trump. There was a black man killed while under arrest. George Floyd died Monday 25th May (8 days ago) A policeman, who knelt on his neck for minutes while he complained of not being able to breathe, has been charged with murder. Now there are riots and curfews and military intervention all over the country. It’s similar to the English riots of 2011. It’s worrying, sad, scary and not what the fight against the pandemic needs. Most of all, it’s racism rearing its ugly head yet again. I’ve had a normal-ish day. received an email from Jim checking in, talked to a recruiter about a promising job lead (although the hours are 8-5 which I am not happy about), talked to Barry across the road and sent Barzzy a WhatsApp. And I logged in Shaw Academy and started lesson one of module 2 of web Design. It’s been a while, so long overdue, but I only did about 15 minutes. Must try harder / do better! As I type, late (10:10pm) I have dinner cooking and a strange pain in my left side and am in the middle of No Country for Old Men. Don’t think I’ve seen it since the cinema (13 years!)

Day 72: As soon as (well, within a couple of days) I mention the weather, it turns. It’s rained a little and is a lot cooler (15° rather than mid-20s). Much better for walking, I have to say. I finished Hunters today (Amazon Prime series). While I enjoyed it, it got too surreal at the end. It is loosely based on the real story of Nazi hunters in the US in 1977 but the straying from loosely based to down-right ridiculous fiction annoyed me. If it goes to S2, I will watch it, however. Received some of my rental deposit back today (the law changed so that only 5 weeks rent can be demanded as deposit). Over £600. Nice.

Day 73: I made a short video for Marc and Clare’s 26th wedding anniversary. I ‘dressed up’ for it. I enjoyed doing it and I think it was appreciated.

Day 74: Typing on Day 75 for no other reason than I couldn’t be bothered on day 74! I received a letter either today or the day before (well, yesterday or the previous day!) from Mr Minos at the eye clinic informing me that, while there is some stuff going on in both eyes (garnered from the photo scans done at the last hospital appointment), he wants to see me in three months. Always a refief when that happens. Been getting into two series on Amazon: Alex Rider and Modern Love. One is a male Hanna, the other is soppy affairs of the heart based on real life stories (from essays written in the NY Times). Both enjoyable for totally different reasons.

Day 75: Lazyish day. Well, not really, just that I only went for one walk, alebit 6km andI got pissed on. Wehn the rain hit, it was also fucking freezing! Some of the clouds were stunning today, made for great photos. As I type, it’s 21:12, I’m listening the wonderful Phoebe Bridgiers. Now, I’m gonna make some tea and sup a few ales, I reckon.

Day 76: Done lots of walking today (over 13,000 steps) I made sausage casserole with too much chilli (scotch bonnet and birdeye). I had an online (fb) debate with Sam over whether the George Floyd murder was a racial.

Day 77: Received a new (used) wing mirror for the car. £18 with delivery, I reckon that’s a bargain. I cashed in £20 from Prolific as well, so I’m satisfied at the financial full-circle. Dropped the car off at Barnwell (Nene Valley Body Shop) and walked back - 7km. Just about to dive into tea - finishing the blazing hot sausage casserole from yesterday. Then I’m going to do some more Rubik’s cube practice with my recently acquired GoCube.

Day 78: Lots of daily walking, 26 stair climb, press-up and late nights watching TikTok (gone 3am this morning) are making for a constantly knackered Tim Stubbs. Today I made veg soup and cooked up some meatballs. Both are delish. How did I ever to learn how to conjure up such stuff? The Rubik’s cube learning is coming along except that I need good daylight to distinguish between the yellow and white faces on the flipping thing!

Day 79: Listening to Radio 6 most the day and the news is making for dire listening. Forecast of severe recession, especially if there is a second peak of the virus, which I think there will be. Plus, an offshoot of the George Floyd murder and the #BlackLivesMatter movement, institutions and town councils are being lobbied by campaigners to remove statues of anyone associated with things like slavery (one was toppled in Bristol at the w/e) and rename buildings etc. that were named after historical characters with any links to something that now is deemed wrong or offensive. I agree with it but it’s not pleasant to hear amongst other bleak news. Walked to Barnwell to collect my car - front trim reseated and new wing mirror fitted, £20 - bargain (I source the replacement wing mirror). But, also, forked out £165 on car tax! Cleaned the lounge from top to bottom. Knackering!

Day 80: Chatted with Dad and Rita - he’s pissed off with the slavery backlash but otherwise they are both OK. I saw Baz in the Tesco queue where I mentioned my disgust at the Thursday market being allowed (I found I could not maintain 2m at all times just walking to Tesco’s!) and that I really don’t want to catch Covid19 as I will probably die. Maybe a bit dramatic but he messaged me later today to say he’d been thinking on what I said and offered to shop for me. I replied that I am OK to shop but am scared at how people are taking things so much less seriously than when lockdown started yet the virus is still out there just as it was then! I am very touched at his massage. I thoroughly cleaned the bedroom and changed the bedclothes today. House work really knackers me out!

Day 81: Spare room cleaned today. Not much else to type about. It’s Friday, I making curried mince and I don’t feel like a beer. How I’ve changed!

Day 82: I did have beers last night. Ended up going to bed with daylight and dawn chorus for company. Today, when I woke, gone 1pm, I have been greeted by what can only be described as thoroughly depressing news from every quarter. This includes violence in the capital, further virus outbreak in Beijing. Fog’s political posts on FB make for depressing (but vaild) reading. I’m feeling thoroughly fed up today. Not even music can lift my mood…

…but, I am currently listening to Craig Charles on BBCR6 and, I have to say, he’s putting in quite an exceptional effort - there may be hope that my mood might lift, even at gone 8pm! I might have a beer or two and grab something postivity and enjoyment from the day after all.

Day 83: Another late one last night but up before noon today. Started watching something called Condor on Sky One. It’s OK - there’s stuff I wanna waytch on Amazon Prime but, more often than not, it keeps telling me there’s ‘a problem’ when I try to play anything. Pissing me off. I just checked and I have two weeks of the initial 12 of furlough to go. I shall started asking the questions about what might happen on the Connections website.

Day 84: Typing this on Day 85. On the way back from dropping off some shoes for Sean Davies at his brother’s (martin) I met Karen and she said why not pop round for a beer so I did. Certainly not used to a drink on a Monday so that, and the genral upheaval to my evening, while good fun and a nice change, put pay to my usual diary entry! I sorted Amazon Prime out by leaving the TV turned off for over an hour. Day 85: Tim did the garden today and it looks great. The pipes in the bathroom have been knocking loudly, on and off, for a couple of weeks now. Last night, they were so loud that today I took it upon myself to resolve it or ring Woodfords. So, having turned off the water, run the taps dry to get rid of any trapped air and then turned the water back on slowly, I discoved it’s the cistern and its pipes. Woodfords are arranging Corvee to visit. Meanwhile, leaving the water turned off at least stops the noise which is, otherwise, costant and unbearable! I emailed HR a couple of days ago about what’s happening in a couple of weeks time in terms of furlough when the 12 weeks will be up. Sue Cockimngs got back to me attaching an email Deryn sent on 15th May which I never received. Basically, they’ll extend furlough if need be and an update should be forthcoming late May/early June. Well, that time has passed, so who knows what is going to happen. The furlough scheme (CJRS) has been changed by the govenment, I’ve read, and it looks like any new people would have to have been furloughed by June 10th (it’s the 16th today) so no furlough rotation, which is annoying. The CJRS ends 1st October with employer contributions required from 1st August - that’s D-Day as far as I am concerned….so job hunting will have to step up a notch! Day 86: Pete’s birthday and he bought himself the same speaker as me. When I asked if it lived up to his expectations he mentioned it’s better through WiFi than Bluetooth. That confused me as I haven’t got WiFi available on mine…..long story short, I bought the wrong fucking speaker. I got a AudioPro AddOn T10 instead of C10. To say I am fucked off is an understatement. To think I was so pleased at the cheap price I paid. Now I feel like I have wasted €200. Bollocks.

Day 87: Finished Alex Rider last night. Another series that started off so well and ended a litte weak but, overall, not bad. I’ve started keeping strange meal times…lunch very late (4pm) and dinner really late (11pm). I need to sort it ‘cos it’s playing havoc with my sugar levels. I had a huge hypo while having my second walk today, second day on the trot that’s happened. My late dinner was Chinese chicked curry with a quarter of a scotch bonnet and two birdeye chillies. Delish.

Day 88: I have managed to be bitten yesterday or the day before on one of my walks. There are strange, itchy lumps on my right inner forearm. And I do mean itchy. I trimmed my sideburns today, I was very pissed off with them. My hair looks just a little less shit. I did a shop at Tesco in Corby today. Mainly booze as follows: 20 cans Sam Miguel £18 18 cans Stella £15 20 bottles Bud £10 8 cans Tyskie £9 3 lrg bottles Warsteiner £5 £57 Bargain.

Day 89: Lazy day. One short walk and usual stair climb. Howard and Sue popped round to give me a pressie - bottle of Monkey Shoulder. I’m building up quite a collection of whisky!

Day 90: Dad called and we chatted for an hour or so. I had to apologise for not sending a father’s day card! Dan messaged me and offered to pay for a pizza delivery which I declined.

Football has started again this past week…Prem and Championship only. L1 and L2 season was cut short and Posh missed out on the play-offs by one place. As I type, Everton v Liverpool is on Sky Sports on a Sunday evening - it’s very strange with no crowd. There’s crowd noise being played thorugh the tannoy.

#Diary #Tumblr diary #lockdown #covid19 #lockdownuk

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