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jamneuromain · 11 months

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Wild Child Chapter. 1

Series Summary:

As the granddaughter of the sole Duke in your country, you know that you were going to marry some douche prince, because it is the only way to solidify the grasp the future king has on the Upper House. On the flight home, you come up with a brilliant plan to defy your upcoming matrimony.

Bringing a random man to your grandfather's place, and say you have a boyfriend already.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Before I meet your family?" Ari cocks his head to the side, watching you adjusting your cerulean Valentino dress when you wave your hand dismissively.

"Just say we're in love and help me get out of marrying this D-bag."

Ari Levinson x You

#i didn't know he is my fiance-douchebag-prince

#when i did, it was too late

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome on board Flight CM80072 from London to Ancetol. This is your Captain speaking. My name is…”

The broadcast started as you stuffed your ears with your earbuds. The screeching static along with the horrible noise whenever the captain chewed the mic in his lips and popped every consonant as if he couldn’t speak otherwise.

You should have brought your earplugs.

Or fly your private plane.

Correction: Fly your family’s private plane.

But you guessed they were still mad at you, which was probably the reason why the bodyguard they sent simply handed you an envelope with an airplane ticket inside.

“Would you like to see the menu?” The stewardess asked you with a kind smile, handing you the thick book of menu, “We have foie gras, smoked salmon, or veal rolls for the main course. Of course, you can also choose the vegan meal. All the ingredients are listed below the dishes.”

“I’ll have the veal roll.” You took a sip of the lemon-flavored soda she gave you earlier, “First course - the shrimp, and dessert would be the … ice cream, with extra berry toppings?”

“Excellent choice, Miss Y/L/N.” The stewardess nodded, taking notes of your demands, the impeccable smile still on her lips, “Any drinks?”

The bodyguard to your back coughed. Very loudly. Very spontaneously. As if he would be dead if someone didn’t hand him a glass of water or ship him off to the chemotherapy very soon.

“Cappu…” you changed your mind as soon as you were “reminded” that you were not allowed to drink alcohol, "Screw it, apple cider please.”

“Miss -” The bodyguard in the full black suit tried to warn you, “His Lordship won’t be pleased.”

“His Lordship,” you sniggered, “desperate measure to demonstrate his control over me, huh? Plus, I don’t think I recall our King has issued any announcement on the succession of the title. So, Lord him all you like. Pathetic man. I’m not respecting someone who participated perhaps even less than a minute in creating me.” You muttered the last few words under your breath.

You could practically imagine what “His Lordship” would do when he hears the report from the bodyguard, word for word.

He might throw some crystal ornaments to the wall, shouting at the top of his lungs, as if that would reinforce his authority.

A man to your right chuckled. Like you, he was just approached by the stewardess regarding his meal choice, now sipping scotch on the rocks. You glared at him. He looks like a man in his 30s. Terribly well dressed. The suit fitted his tailoring right up to his cufflinks. Golden cufflinks, you might add. White shirt without a tie. Long hair with a full-grown beard.

“Sorry, can’t help but overhear.” He raised his hands and folded them on his knees, “I’m Guy. Guy Thomas.”

“Mr. Thomas,” you shared your given name with him, but left out your family name, offering to shake his hand.

“Guy.” He stressed, “You’re from Ancetol?”

You were born in the outskirts of Ancetol, the capital of your home country, Ballenia, one of the few countries that are still ruled by a monarch. Your mother was relieved that you were blessed with a quick birth. But your father wanted nothing more than a boy. A boy that could take the family title and carry the family honor. Probably why he didn’t make an appearance until the second day of your birth. Reluctantly. You might add.

You spent the next couple of years of your life in a small town in Ballenia, growing up with your mother who thought innocently that your father would miraculously love you and accept you both as family.

You stopped believing in “a happy marriage” a long time ago. No. You stopped believing in “marriage”. And the fairy tales. And the lovely stories that told you one day, Prince Charming would come to rescue you riding his big white horse and ask you to be his wife, and some happily ever after bullshit.

No.

The reality was, fairly close to the story of your family, where the “Cinderella”, your mother, was abandoned by the prince, who is your father, and he had a couple of mistresses when Cinderella was only allowed to be presented during formal circumstances.

Ah yes, after all, a divorce would destroy the reputation of His Lordship. Making them look bad if they kick a civilian woman out of the door. The press would go frenzy about it, spreading the news that the “Cinderella” had been divorced by the cold-hearted heir of the Duke.

Luckily, or, unlucky for your father, it was your grandfather who carried the Duke title. Your grandfather who was equally displeased with you, a useless girl. Your grandfather, who passed away quite recently. Three days ago.

Hence, your urgent return. And some pretenses for the reputation of your family.

So, sunglasses it is then. During the funeral. With a white handkerchief. No one will see your dry eyes incapable of producing tears, not for that old bastard anyway. You thought to yourself, eyeing the huge bulk of a man next to you.

Did you forget to mention that the late Duke did the same trick as your father? Marrying a civilian woman and keeping a dozen mistresses in the same mansion they live in?

“You sound local.” You commented on the way he speaks English, “Are you from Ancetol as well?”

“Aww, what gave it away?” The man switched to fluent Ballenian, the language you haven’t heard of for years, and asked you, sounding sincere, “Is it the ‘r’? I always mess up the ‘r’.”

“Your name doesn’t sound local though,” you buckled your seatbelt as the stewardess stepped close to inform you the plane was ready to depart, lowering your eyes to fumble with the metal link, “Guy Thomas. Very American.”

Ari, no, Guy, pushed a little smile on his lips.

Of course, this name sounded American. You would freak out if he told you his true name.

“My mother is American and my father is Ballenian.” Which was 75% true because his mother was half American. The other half Danish.

He went by “Guy Thomas” when he was having fun among people and didn’t want to spoil everything by announcing he was Ari. The fucking prince of Ballenia.

Total mood killer.

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” You joked, “Or visiting your family?”

“Mostly business.” Ari fabricated a lie out of nowhere, “I work as a manager of my family business.” Technically that’s not a lie. He even slipped in some details for credibility.

Family business, the kingdom.

Manager, well sort of, since his dad owned the country.

“And I’m back in Ballenia to secure a deal.”

You lacked interest in business and all that, waving your hand as if dismissal, but allowing the stewardess to come and take away the food and drink in front of you, “hard to do business nowadays, especially when the Minister of Foreign Trade is a jackass.”

“You speak as if you know him.”

“Please, he’s been in that position for fifteen years.” You rolled your eyes.

The minister tried to get you to marry his hideous, lazy, pig-like son who knows nothing more than eating, smoking, and partying. Promising your father to “sweeten the deal” by favoring the company your mother owned but your father controlled.

Your father really would have said yes if it weren’t for the deal years ago, promising you to another man already. A man more powerful than the minister or his son will ever be.

“Of course, he is a jackass. If not now, then somewhere in his 15 years of gripping the foreign trade.” But you were not telling a total stranger about you being promised around like a Ming-Dynasty Vase. “Just look at the new announcement he made with the U.S. What deal did he make? None! Claiming that ‘further efforts are needed’. Further my ass. The Ambassador from the States could barely keep the smile on his face for Christ’s sake.”

Ari took a mental note to look into this “jackass” Minister.

“What about you?” He asked, “Visiting your family? Plan on staying here long?”

You pursed your lips on hearing the question.

Visit your family? How about dead family?

You were here to attend your grandfather, the late Duke’s funeral.

Staying long?

You wouldn’t curse yourself like that.

The longer you stay, the more probable your father and your mother will talk you into marriage.

You loved your mother, but for Christ’s sake, “I hope not.”

Ari didn’t respond to your reply. He simply hummed, making you confused about whether he agreed with you or not.

The plane did not wait for a minute more before departing into the air. A short while of gravity shift brought you 30,000 feet up in the sky. You pulled down the blind as the annoying sunlight burned your eyes, getting up for a bit more leg room and heading to the bathroom.

In the blink of an eye, a violent turbulence threw you off your own feet.

The soft ring of the safety belt sign turned the orange light on, while you slowly came to your senses that you weren’t embraced by the ground, but rather a firm body wrapping around you. One arm on your back, holding your upper body, another hung – rather awkwardly – in the air. You were sitting on his thick thighs sideways. Your ankle hurting. You were pretty much sure you twisted it with your damn heels.

“Miss Y/L/N!” The bodyguard hurried towards you, completely disregarding the tremble of the plane, rushing to your side. “Miss, I need you to try and stand up.” He held out an arm, leaning towards you to help you up.

Seeing him trying to assess how hurt your ankle was, you were very touched that he was concerned and reacted quickly. Maybe a small pay rise for him if you get back to your home?

Your bodyguard sighs, shaking his head with a disapproving look, “If this is your way of trying to escape the deal, his lordship won’t be pleased.”

Oh yes, the deal. The deal that simply packed you like a FedEx item and threw you to the palace door. The deal that promised you to the prince, right after you were born. The deal that you were told by your parents to honor for as long as you can remember. The deal lurking in the corner and bit you in the ass whenever you had done something to displease your father, reminding you over and over again that the only reason that you were alive was the fucking deal.

Apparently, your father had left out a most important piece of detail when instructing this bodyguard to “guard” you from running away.

You hardly ever do as you’re told.

“I think my ankle is broken.” You said dryly, pointing at your feet, not even trying to pretend that you can convince no one with your bland facial expression, “Can’t get up.”

Ari bit his lips so that he wouldn’t laugh.

You were sure as hell an interesting soul.

If he had any doubt or concerns regarding marrying you, a complete stranger in a matter of weeks, he now had none.

He thought you were the kind of girl who was a black sheep in the family, a wild child, with tattoos on your eyeballs or something. But you were nothing like his imagination.

Wild? Sure.

Black sheep? Compared to your father, the to-be-Duke, who seemed more like what the term was describing.

Ari raised his eyebrows, “Although I wouldn’t oppose you sitting on my thighs,” he nodded towards the stewardess who lurked behind the thin veil of curtain, “I’m afraid she would be unable to do her job properly if this continues.”

You clenched your jaw. Ignoring the extended hand from your bodyguard, you stood up, feeling instantly a sharp pain stinging your bones.

Bathroom was long forgotten, not that you have a chance to reach there on your own, you slumped down the seat and made sure you pushed the seat back until you could almost lie down like on a gurney. Lifting the hurting ankle on your other ankle, you closed your eyes.

Fuck his lordship.

The pain throbbing on your ankle. Your body dipped in both the coolness of the AC and the heat from your spine and the back of your head.

The few hours on the plane became more and more unbearable.

The veal roll didn’t lift your spirit in any way when it was brought to you.

The meat itself was fine. Only that it tasted like wax to you. You let out a long exhale as you outstretched your leg to ease the stress. Finishing the meal barely, you pushed the plate away, not even looking at the cider that you were thrilled to piss your father off with, and asked the stewardess for some paper. Empty sheets for writing.

She was clearly dumb-founded by your request, but hurried to carry your idea out.

You thanked her when she brought you some sheets, torn from some notepad as there were jigsaw razor edges on the side of the paper.

If the pain and the fact that every second you were closer to Ballenia was bothering you, you only needed something more bothering to take your mind off.

Ari narrowed his eyes when he cast a glimpse that you pulled out a pen from your bag from the overhead compartment and started writing on the empty sheets of paper.

Call him nosey but he wanted to know what you were writing.

Too inconvenient for him, your letters scribbled too small for his eyes to see. Occasional glimpses couldn’t help him read your writing. Nor that the content on your phone was clear enough for him to read either.

He did know that should be a text of some kind.

What text though? That was the real question.

…not some kind of text that could curse the royal family of the Ballenia, right?

Ari was almost amused by his own thoughts, before a shiver ran down his body and stuck an idea in his mind that this was totally and perfectly possible.

…you wouldn’t, would you?

Hard to tell. You weren’t exactly obeying the orders to marry him. Delaying it a couple of times in the past three years. And now, hearing that you had just called a minister “asshole” … or was it “butt ass” (?), anyway, something about ass, behind his back, and that you could mull a long face over your own bodyguard? Ari couldn’t figure out your temper and your actions all of a sudden.

The adjectives, that your father and his father used when they were talking about you, didn’t even come close to you.

“Kind” “Warm” “Considerate” “Perfect Princess”.

“Exceptional”. Maybe this was the right word.

Definitely different and strong-minded.

He could almost imagine the changes you would bring to his family and the kingdom.

He could discuss politics with you. You had your own thoughts and ideas, which was a good sign. Talk about foreign policies. Speaking of, he should really have someone fetch your dissertation from your university to understand where lies your interests. He’d allow gossip on the table too, if that’s what you like.

Ari hated gossip.

And there he was, imagining the future with you, before you were willing to marry him.

“If you want the book, I can lend it to you.” Your voice snapped him out of his fantasies. You had stopped scribing and rubbing your knuckles with your other hand. Pursing your lips together, you had, obviously, found out that he had his eyes glued to you.

“I’m sorry?”

“The History and Nature of International Relations.” You shrugged, twirling your wrist and your shoulder for writing too long, “I gotta warn you though, it’s pretty boring.”

Ari knew the correct answer to his question, but he asked either way, “You are studying it?”

“No. Yes. Hmpf,” You pouted at your change of words, “I did. I was. I was studying International Relations.” Something blipped in your mind, “Did you know this book?”

Ari smiled, “Took a course in International Relations years ago. I’m surprised they are still using it as an example of a textbook – where did you study?”

“NYU.” That’s a plain fat lie. You had a friend studying at NYU, but you were not planning on giving all your personal information away to a complete stranger, “You?”

Ari cocked his eyebrows. You were studying in Cambridge. He read that from your file.

“University of Ancetol.” Because studying there demonstrated the confidence of the Royal family in their country’s educational system. From there, the lies weaved themselves from his lips, “Got an undergrad degree and started to take over the family business. I visited New York last year,” along with his father, the King, but they travelled as quietly as they could, initiating a state visit without disturbing the press, “I miss school, now that I’m thinking of it.” Ari sighed deeply, “Wanted to get a grad degree but work’s too busy.”

“A manager in your family business?” You teased him light-heartedly, “Surely you can spare the time and study for a grad degree.”

Ari chose to evade this question. Reaching for his suit pocket, he fished out a business card with his name (Guy Thomas) and phone number on it, handing it to you, “Grad school doesn’t exactly tolerate me flying all over the world for … my family business.” He pushed his soft brown hair behind his ears, his eyes sparkling with a hint of joy that he had successfully fooled you, “Jewelry, my specialty. Diamonds, pearls, gemstones … call me if you need anything.”

“Oh, and she got her Master’s degree two months ago.” Ari casually dropped this to his parents in the middle of having dinner, he almost felt proud of his future wife, “Majoring in Political Science and International Relations. With a merit… no, distinction. The top 10% of her class.”

“We want a princess, not a college professor.” His father looked rather disappointed, “We were promised a princess.”

Ari didn’t understand.

If it were to be a marriage without love, he’d rather his spouse would be clever than bimbos who need help spelling “distinction”. Clever would mean he has a handful to deal with, yes, but what’s the fun in talking with someone who only cares about mani-pedi and the latest fashion magazines when he would be running the country?

Why wouldn’t they want someone smart as his wife?

“Your father is right, Ari,” his mother, Queen Olivia, reminded him with a softer tone, “we don’t need someone academically outstanding. We only want her to care for your home, you, and your future children.” She then turned to Ari’s father, King Victor, with blame framing her tone, “Told you should’ve just kept her with us when she was born. I knew Y/L/Ns were incompetent in raising our son’s future wife.”

Ari nearly spat out his food, “HOUSEWIFE?” Earning the “Shhh” from the Queen, he ignored the palace rules and the rules of being a prince altogether, “You want a HOUSEWIFE as the future queen?”

“For the moment.” Olivia waved her hand as if all this was not important, “Only temporal. After you get acquainted with the Upper House, you could divorce her and we’ll find you a proper wife.”

Taglist: @irishhappiness @patzammit

Find the Wild Child Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fluff #prince!ari levinson #royalty au

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spiteless-xo · 10 months

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this is solely bc i've been doing karaoke for the past 3 hours but who of all the aot men (eren, jean, reiner) would prob be really good at singing and might serenade their s/o?

(and i feel like by this point, you can just 100% assume that porco is included when i say aot men)

hello hello! im sorry that you asked me this in august and i'm only just getting to it now 💀 i feel like i've been so absent after tbaw ended so im gonna try to get caught up on asks that i've been putting off

sorry about the wait 💗

╰┈➤ karaoke - aot.

ft. eren, jean, porco, reiner. cw. gn!reader, alcohol

⋙ eren jaeger.

LOVES karaoke! is usually the first to suggest it but if someone else beats him to it, he's a very loud supporter

has great stage presence and excellent theatrics but is not great at actually singing, mostly just likes being there to have fun, goof around, and have some drinks

likes fast rap songs like right round by flo rida or rap god by eminem.

also really likes popular songs that people can't help singing along to like bohemian rhapsody by queen, don't stop believing by journey, sweet caroline by neil diamond, since u been gone by kelly clarkson, party in the usa by miley cyrus.... the list could go on

really good at getting the shyer people to sing along too by taking some of the attention off of them by doing something crazy

⋙ jean kirstein.

not a huge karaoke fan but after a few drinks, he gets really into it

surprisingly has a really great singing voice but leans toward picking songs that everyone knows so they can sing along and he doesn't look like a show off

mr brightside by the killers, all-star by smashmoouth, livin' on a prayer by bon jovi. he doesn't pick as goofy songs as eren, but a similar vein

when singing he performs for you. he's looking at you and singing to you the whole time, even if it's not a romantic song. the others get on his case about it but he can't help it, he just wants to impress you

pretends like he hates doing duets when you ask him to, but gets really into it and smiley the whole time 🥺

⋙ porco galliard.

HATES karaoke. literally will not go unless you and the other drag him out, but even then he won't sing at all and will just eat and get drunk while the rest of you make fools of yourself

but after a few drinks, he always gets annoyed with someone (reiner) and takes the mic away to "show him how it's done"

picks annoying songs just to piss everyone off: mmmbop by hanson, baby by justin beiber, the national anthem

when he gets really drunk he starts showing off and it turns out porco's got some pipes on him!! he'll jokingly pick my heart will go on by celine dion and everyone will be staring at him with their jaws on the floor because he can actually carry the notes

gets irrationally angry the next day when he finds out that you've posted videos of him singing on instagram or snap and DEMANDS that you delete them

⋙ reiner braun.

he's very shy at first. he'll turn down any offers to sing and he'll just kinda hum along or sing quietly to himself as others perform but after a couple of drinks he starts to loosen up

will join in with eren and jean if they do some goofy rendition of let it go or will sing into the mic if you hold it out to him in the middle of your song

but after too many drinks he gets a little in his feels. he'll start picking someone like you by adele, can't help falling in love by elvis presley, perfect by ed sheeran

bless his heart, reiner tries his absolute best but he just doesn't have the best voice. but you appreciate the effort and make sure to smile and nod encouragingly to him while he's on stage

probably cries on stage during one of his love songs and then you and the others have to do damage control to get him off the stage before you all get kicked out

#tiff.asks #aot headcanons #snk headcanons #gn!reader #reiner braun #porco galliard #eren jaeger #jean kirstein #aot x reader #tiff.fic #eren #jean #porco #reiner

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marie-miele · 8 months

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One

-Master List-

words:1887

- ┈┈┈┈┈┈ - -- - ┈┈┈┈┈┈ -

You sat on the ground; wiping the sweat from your forehead. It had been almost two years since Aizawa had taken you in from the Hero Public Safety Commission. He was with you almost every day for a year, teaching you how to control your quirk. It was a difficult time for you, but you built a strong bond over that year. And now you live as happy of a life as you could, figuring yourself out in a way you couldn't before. He spent much of his time working, but when he would come home he'd spend that time training you. He believed that you could make a good hero if you were led down the right path. You doubted that, but for all he's done for you, you figured the least you could do for him was try. And that's exactly what you did.

You were still sitting when he had gone inside. The training was becoming more intense as high school entrance exams were right around the corner. You were told that you would be getting into UA High School through Aizawa's recommendation, as he worked for the school he had a bit more influence at getting you in; which you were thankful for. But you would still have to participate in certain parts of the exams.

Sighing; you got up and headed inside, thinking about all that's happened and what could become your future. It stressed you out but you also had to keep in mind that you had a better advantage than most.

"So- What if I don't get it?" You said taking a seat at the dining table. Aizawa was setting the table with two bowls of Udon. " You will." He said; his voice lacked belief and energy as he uttered the words "you will", sounding indifferent and unenthusiastic about the possibility of the action taking place.

"But what if I don't? I mean seriously, think about it. I'm no use except for hand-to-hand, my quirk isn't much use in a fight unless I want to scare the life out of someone. Plus, you've seen how many tries it took me to prove I could control my quirk at the HPSC! I don't want to go through that again." Picking up your chopsticks with a slight pout. Even though you were stuffing your face noodles you continued talking.

"Since when did you give up on yourself so easily?" Aizawa said sternly, silencing your still noodle-filled mouth. "Ever since I met you, you told me how you wanted to 'prove yourself'. And lately, all I hear is you doubting yourself," You stared at the man who sat beside you now. "or is it my training you doubt?"

"no no! it's not like that!" You said frantically. "it just- Its that- I don't want to hurt anyone as it did to my family.." You had finished your food already and Aizawa was beginning to stand; grabbing your bowl.

"You're still being controlled by your fear from the past, I get that. But if you want to be able to succeed Y/N, you have to push forward. Only you can make it happen; your future is yours." He stated as he left you in the dining room.

- ┈┈┈┈┈┈ - -- - ┈┈┈┈┈┈ -

Today is the day you thought nervously to yourself. You were trying to mentally prepare yourself for your entrance exam; which wasn't going well at all. It felt as if your heart was trying to escape your chest. And the awkward car ride with your mentor was not helping, he had given what he thought was a motivating lecture to you but in reality, it was horrifying to witness.

U.A. High's recommendation entrance exam consists of a written test, a practical test, and an interview. For the practical exam, students race six at a time through a mile-long obstacle course using their quirks. Students receive numbers and their times are recorded by Present Mic, another teacher at UA. You had met him multiple times as he is a close friend of Aizawas.

Your leg was bouncing up and down as you sat in the waiting room; your eyes were glancing at every student there with you. Thinking about all the quirks you saw made you wonder if you were meant to be there. You knew for a fact you past the written part of the exam, you always excelled at them in school- when you were in school. But the practical exam..you weren't so sure about.

Some students though, would pass for sure you thought as your eyes made their way to a boy with heterochromatic hair; you'd never seen someone with white and red hair. He was standing in the corner of the room, you had gotten to see his quirk in action; ice. It looked powerful as it was good for defense and offense. Oh to have a quirk like that huh, but you don't get to pick and choose what you get.

Another student reminded you of an old friend, it was not his quirk or his looks but rather his attitude. He was talking to a group of examinees with bold and harsh words- yet, being honest.

"Suki...Has it already been three years? You wouldn't believe I would be here right now." You said thinking out loud. You haven't been able to see or talk to him all this time. You always thought of him of course but back in middle school, neither of you had phones in your first year so you had no idea how to contact him after your first year out of the Safety Commission.

Getting so caught up in your muttering you didn't even notice a boy standing right next to you; he was staring at you intensely. Feeling his eyes on you, feeling slightly intimidated by him you turned your head towards him but before you could apologize for blabbering,

"Hey! Im Yoarashi Inasa!" He said loudly.

"Oh! You're that boy with the wind quirk, right? I'm Y/N L/N."

During the practical exam, you accidentally merged your power with Yoarashi's. He was attacking with wind and you were attacking with your gas, you had gotten too close to each other and so your gas was blown around by him.

After that incident, you knew you had to figure out a way to direct your gas. Regardless though, Yoarashi and you continued to chat moving the conversation from quirks to the heroes you wanted to be.

Once everyone finished the exam you were given your scores; being told that your acceptance letter would be arriving within the next few weeks. You wished Yoarashi good luck and a farewell as you both made your way out of the building. Your nerves were on edge as the countdown for your acceptance letter began.

As you made your way home you told Aizawa everything that happened and asked for more ways to improve.

- ┈┈┈┈┈┈ - -- - ┈┈┈┈┈┈ -

You paced around the living room with your phone in one hand and a drink in the other. You knew Katsuki's family was private but damn, after finding out he didn't have any social media account you figured his parent would have one. But no, his mother didn't even have one that you could find. What a shame.

"You nervous about your acceptance letter, huh?" Aizawa said as he stepped into the room.

Replying in an informative tone of voice "Uh- Yeah, something like that". You were always honest with Aizawa, but this; you could tell him about.

Your mentor was the person you trusted the most, even though this was a fact; one thing you always you couldn't speak up about was your past.

He knew the brief information when the HPSC told him about you. But no one knew about your private life; just about the incident before sending you away.

"Well no need to be so worried about it anymore," He said pulling out an envelope from his pocket, he was still in his hero suit as he had just gotten out of work. The UA teachers had been working for the past few weeks preparing their courses.

Cutting him off you questioned him "No need?" as your eye flicked from his face to the letter. "Is...THAT WHAT I THINK IT IS?" rushing over to him, you grabbed the letter but he kept his grip on it.

"I think you should sit down first Y/N" He explained as you took the letter from him and sat down on the couch that he was able to hand deliver it to you.

It had been a whole five minutes since you were given the envelope, that whole time you were just staring at it. Aizawa kept urging you to open it; the closer you got to fully ripping the paper open the more nervous you kept getting. Your hands were trembling as you finally opened it, reaching your hand inside you grabbed a small circular device.

Aizawa took a seat beside you as you set the device on the coffee table in front of you it projected a video of All Might. He went on about how he was the newest addition to UA's faculty, he went over your score from the written test; 89 out of 100, not terrible you thought to yourself. Moving on to the practical part you placed 4th out of the 36 students recommended the school; also not terrible considering most of your points came from rescuing. You sat with your face as close to the projection as you could, this was taking forever even though it had only been two minutes at most. Then; All Might's voice boomed through the projector, announcing to Y/N, to you. That you had been accepted into UA. His words were filled with pride and encouragement, causing a wave of excitement to wash over you as you processed the news. The legendary hero's endorsement was a moment you would never forget, solidifying your dreams of becoming a hero, to prove everyone wrong about you.

"I'm..in. Aizawa I got it." You looked at him with teary eyes and a smile. Jumping up, you wrapped your arms around him "I got in!" you cried.

This was the first time you'd ever shown affection towards him, and as a result; he was shocked, to say the least. He felt his pride for you completely was over him.

Patting your head he stated: "told you so."

- ┈┈┈┈┈┈ - -- - ┈┈┈┈┈┈ -

Standing outside of the gates to UA High, you fixed the tie on your school uniform. Seven times, that's the total number of times you had readjusted it this morning. It had been almost four years since you last went to school, at least a public one. You were scared of what your classmates would think of you but thankfully Aizawa had been reassuring your mind all morning.

"Well, this is it, a new start."

As you made your way up to the school, you accidentally bumped into another student who was rushing up the path.

Being quick to apologize "Sorry! I didn't even see you!" You bowed you down"

"It's alright!" the male student quickly replied; waving his hands in front of himself. "I shouldn't have been going so fast!"

Wait, you recognized that voice. Slowly you raised your head and as you stood face-to-face with the boy.

"Midoriya?"

- ┈┈┈┈┈┈ - -- - ┈┈┈┈┈┈ -

Authors note:

Hii! Hope you're enjoying so far :p

I've added my Wattpad link to my master's list! Please feel free to check it out and support me there too, thank's!

Much love, Marie <3

#bakugou katsuki #bnha #boku no hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #mha #fanfic #mha bakugou #mha x reader #my hero academia #reader insert

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feralwritings · 2 months

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sooo. i have a couple wips that i've been working on in tandem with three's company, and i'm really excited about the concept of one of them. it doesn't have a name yet, but it has a playlist and a couple thousand words written... and i'm going to share it with you now to gauge interest on whether or not this is something y'all would like to read!!!

the word 'reader' is being used in place of a name, because with fics like this with multiple women it can get confusing. so. there we go.

it's an eddie x reader fic only, steve's still there but as more of a background character sorry baby but you'll serve an excellent purpose i promise

Laughter echoes around the studio, being pressed into the podcast mics so that it’s a little too loud and a little too tinny, harsh on the ears.

She clicks the volume down a couple ticks.

“So, I mean-” The host chuckles, “I mean, what’s your least favorite band? Come on, you’ve gotta have one.”

There’s a silence that follows this question, a contemplative hum.

“Pssshh, I dunno,” Eddie says, the characteristic rasp of his voice moving through her headphones, “There’s like, lots of shitty music out there. But, other artists could say the same thing about our band, ya know? It’s all subjective.”

“I know,” The host presses, and there’s a hunger in his voice, “But, just throw one out.”

“There’s that one chick band,” Gareth says, and she can hear the whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of him spinning his drumstick, “God, what was their name again? They’re like, literally on our label.”

“Daisy Chain,” Eddie supplies, “Yeah.”

Cold rage spreads throughout her body, frostbiting every nerve she possesses. The string she’s winding on her guitar snaps due to the pressure, flying into the meat of her palm.

There’s a breakout of laughter again, and she hears the host wheezing into the mic, “Daisy Chain? God, who’d Reader have to fuck to get signed to your label?”

She rips off her headphones after that, throwing them in no particular direction. There’s still noise coming from them, but she can’t understand what they’re saying.

She doesn’t need to understand what they’re saying. She’s heard it all before, from sweaty interviewers at music festivals, to label executives, to booth technicians who call them all sweetheart and honey before insulting them.

She doesn’t need to wonder how bad this is. Her phone is already buzzing with notifications, from Chrissy, Nancy and Robin, from their manager, from Instagram and Twitter and Tik Tok, and it’s all so much, it’s all too much.

Through the flurry of notifications that are rendering her phone unusable, one pops up that makes her fucking nauseous.

from @.BandCast: hey @.dc_reader, we had a little chat about you with the Corroded Coffin boys on this weeks #BandCast, be sure to tune in! #daisychain #corrodedcoffin

She sinks onto the floor, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

Great. Just fucking great. The most popular band at Upside Down Records, the label she and her bandmates had fought tooth and nail to get signed to just destroyed Daisy Chain’s reputation, all of their hard work with a few words said into some mics on an overlit, overproduced and overrated podcast that just about everyone she knows and hopes to know listens to.

Another text pops up on her phone.

Manager 😡

Don’t say anything.

She doesn’t.

***

18 months later

“You’re joking. Tell me you’re fucking kidding.”

There is no way. There is absolutely no way.

“I’m not kidding. You’re going on this tour, you have to.”

She narrows her eyes, “And it just has to be with them, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Robin supplies, leaning forward in her chair towards Stacy, “You could literally choose like any other band.”

“I don’t have any control over that,” Stacy, VP at UDR says, which is a bold-faced lie, everyone knows that she has influence at the tour agency, not only that but most people in and out of this the building are scared of her, “That’s up to the tour agency that we work with.”

“And you can’t tell them to, oh, I dunno, choose literally any other band?” Nancy is picking at her nails, barely contained rage etched into the pressed line of her lips.

Stacy’s expression changes, and she leans forward with her messy bun and her oversaturated tan and her stupid white crop top and her acid washed jeans and her fucking-

“Listen, girls,” She begins, and they all raise an eyebrow at the patronizing tone, “To be frank, Corroded Coffin is a much more lucrative band than Daisy Chain. They’re more popular, better liked and easy on the eyes-” she blushes, staring fondly at the 24x36 poster of Eddie that sits on the opposite wall, tongue out, one hand around the neck of his guitar and the other flipping off the camera, Reader wants to use it for dart practice, “and riding their coattails may be just the thing that keeps you from getting dropped from UDR. Simply put, this tour is your last chance to prove to us that signing you wasn’t a mistake. We’ve poured so many resources in getting you out of your mommy’s garage-”

“We practiced at my house that I own-” Chrissy interjects softly.

“-getting your albums made and getting you on tour, and it’s high time that we see a return on our investment, don’t you think? So, you either go on this tour, or you’re done at Upside Down Records. For good. Capiche?”

“That’s like, seven discrimination lawsuits all rolled into one,” Robin muses, though she doesn’t sound shocked that Stacy is speaking to them this way. Stacy says that this is how she speaks to everyone, that there is no time for ‘flowery language’ in this industry, which is another load of bullshit, considering that she’s plenty flowery when she’s giggling and batting her eyelashes at the Corroded Coffin guys. She has favorites, that’s for sure, and another thing that’s for sure is that Daisy Chain is not one of them.

“It’d never see the inside of a courtroom, honey,” Stacy says, searching through her desk for a stack of papers, “Sign here.”

She taps her bony finger on a tour contract, and Reader stares at it, feeling an insatiable urge to set it on fire.

“Opening for a band that hates us,” Nancy says, eyes flying over the contract, reading it carefully as she can, “Awesome. So cool.”

“Oh,” Stacy says, “I forgot to mention-” she snatches the stack of papers away from Nancy before producing a seemingly identical set, “You’re both openers.”

“Wait,” Reader says, “We’re both openers? Who’s the headliner?”

Stacy’s face breaks into a grin, and all four girls lean forward in their chairs, scared yet terrified of the answer.

“Steve Harrington.”

#Eddie Munson x reader #rivals to lovers #enemies to lovers #band fics #nOT inspired by daisy jones and the six even though it may seem like that. I watched almost all of that show and remember NONE of it.#but yea. this concept. itches my brain so good #she has a whole playlist and everything #just no name yet idk what to name it

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rollofleaf · 1 month

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WIP Wednesday

I didn't end up finishing the AU stuff, but here's what I did write.

Arueshalae pulled her jacket tight over her frame, politely waving away the man that tried to buy her a drink. She was at this club to disappear into the background and enjoy being around mortals, not to be reminded of how most of them saw her. She briefly considered disappearing more properly, but the man took ‘no’ for an answer and no one else seemed to notice her, so there was little need. Alcohol was never a good idea for someone like her that already struggled to control herself, but thankfully the small club had lemonade for her to sip. She came here often to simply be, to observe mortals and get used to being around them without hurting them. And the music was usually nice, too.

It was a band she hadn’t heard today, and both Arueshalae and the rest of the club’s eyes were immediately drawn to the woman that stepped on-stage. She was a brown-skinned aasimar, with peach-colored hair and a wild look to her. She was fit and athletic, and Arueshalae had an excellent view of her muscled form since her only clothes were ripped jeans and pasties over her nipples. Accompanying her was a scrawny tiefling in similarly ripped jeans and a leather jacket that left most of his chest bare. He carried an electric guitar and had his hair messy and disheveled. Next was a dark-skinned human man on drums, who had a more put-together look. He was in shorts and a simple polo, and though he had clearly mussed up his hair it was naturally straight and well-kempt. Finally was the bassist, a dark-skinned human woman in a rather dapper blazer.

They took a short while to test their instruments and the microphone while the buzz of conversation continued. Arueshalae busied herself with just watching them. She tried not to stare at the aasimar woman’s lack of an outfit, instead taking in how she and the tiefling traded jokes and laughs. They all seemed like such good friends… Arueshalae wondered what that was like.

At last, the aasimar cleared her throat into the microphone. “Good evening, we are Hilde and the Butterflies. I’m Hilde, these are the Butterflies.” She had a soft, subdued voice, not what Arueshalae expected of a singer. “Ah-one, two, three, four-“ What followed was a single note from each instrument and a heavy metal growl so loud, primal, and boneshaking it nearly knocked Arueshalae and the rest of the club off their feet. How such a soft voice was even capable of making such a sound was a mystery, but after that they had everyone’s attention. “Thank you, that was ‘Awake at 5 a.m.’ This next song is called ‘Another Road’.”

Arueshalae braced herself for another roar, but what came instead was an upbeat, relaxed melody, accompanied by that gentle voice. The music quickly faded into the background of conversation and food for most, but Arueshalae found herself unable to tear her gaze away. There was such joy in the singer and her words, every break in the lyrics was punctuated with a giggle from Hilde.

“I looked in myself,

And staring back was someone else”

Occasionally one of the other bandmates would chime in to help with vocals, and they seemed to be enjoying themselves as much as Hilde. What was it about the music that made her heart soar?

“But now my heart feels so brand new,

I found a friend for life in you…”

Arueshalae had a soft smile on her thin lips throughout the performance. She took in the beauty, the love these people shared for their music and each other. Love she’d never experience… But the music made her forget that bit for a while. Alas, far too soon it was over. How long had she been staring? A quick glance at the clock and she flushed in embarrassment at spending a full hour like that.

As their final song came to a close, the tiefling leaned into the mic. “Thank you, thank you. Check us out on Spotify, we have merch online…” With that, they started to pack up their instruments and slip out. Arueshalae tensed up. How badly she wanted to talk to them, but what if she messed up? Finally, she could take it no longer. She sprinted outside just as the band was leaving.

#wip wednesday #pathfinder wotr #oc: hilde svalksdottir #knight commander #arueshalae #au

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tortoisesshells · 9 months

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your posts are making me really want to watch dark shadows now

Kind friend, having been Cask of Amontillado'd into D.ark Shadows in the best way possible, I'm too happy to pass along the favor. I'm not sure what I can tell you about the show, one way or another, to make up your mind, though I will note:

There's 1225 episodes (I have seen 87. I haven't even gotten to the literal vampire or werewolf or other nonstandard monsters yet.) Each episode is ~20min.

Because of budget constraints, most scenes got one take and line-flubbing, people dropping things off-camera, bad blocking, visible mics, etc. all end up in the show. This is my favorite blooper - Louis Edmonds, the man, the myth, the legend, etc. - haven't gotten there yet, but I look forward to seeing it in realtime. It's neat, seeing how the sausage gets made.

It's a soap opera. You don't need to pay attention to every scene, because it will get rehashed a minimum of twice. Want to put something on while you're cooking/cleaning/otherwise hobbying? Excellent choice. I've been sewing myself another 18th century men' shirt so I can live out my dreams/fit in with the characters when they time travel back to the 1790s.

It's on Tubi. It's free.

Is it good? Wrong question. Is there a fictional town in Maine in which one family has for centuries controlled political, social, and economic life - in which that family's legacy of cruelty and exploitation has warped the town and themselves - in which each successive generation is never free from the accumulated weight of the past? YES. Is this town also subject to some of the most bullshit plot twists ever? ALSO YES. There's a kid who wants to kill his dad, a governess who has correctly understood she walked onto a starring role in Jane Eyre, a woman who hasn't left the house in almost twenty years, a guy who's simultaneously Jay Gatsby and Edmond Dantes and Captain Ahab and the big bad wolf (but not, actually, a werewolf), and now, I am pleased to say, at least three ghosts. One of whom even sings sea shanties before imparting dire warnings.

There's. you know. the famous plots about the vampires and the werewolves (and the werewolf ghost?) and frankenstein's monster in all but name and time travel and alternate universe and other monsters. I haven't gotten there yet. You know me, I like ghosts and people being trapped in the past, or their own regrets, which is frequently the same.

I've read at least one review which recommends jumping in around the point that the family vampire, Barnabas, emerges from his tomb to bedevil his descendants & the narrative, around episode 200. But I will make the case for starting from the beginning because there's monstrousness afoot even without fangs.

Go forth, and happy watching!

#polkaknox talks #me; vibrating at normal frequencies; this is a show. you should watch the show. this show is a completely normal experience.

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nokingsonlyfooles · 1 year

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WTYP: The Shandor Building, Part 1 [take 2, the long post vs Tumblr's formatting]

[Do you like the colour of the fanfic? This is long and if you expand it you're gonna get the whole thing, because Tumblr hates you. Don't say I didn't warn you!]

[Beware of strong language, mention of all kinds of death, gore, and Lovecraftian horror.]

Part 1: Hello and Welcome to Shandor Studios (it's weird)

[TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: The moon was waning and a raven was tapping on my window when I discovered a heretofore unknown tier at the WTYP Patreon page. It was called "Pazuzu" and cost $6.66 USD. It had one listed benefit "bonus bonus episode." I unlocked a single unnumbered bonus episode titled "Ibo Shanor" and subtitled "train bad actually." Judging from the dialogue, it dates to summer 2023. Since it lacked any closed-captioning, I took the liberty of transcribing it, and coping most of the slides for your edification. (Not really, this is a work of fiction.) I have styled Ms. Caldwell-Kelly as "Alice" since she still seems to be using that in podcast land at this time. Please support WTYP!]

[SLIDE: Shandor Studios, an art deco style building with some familiar-looking gargoyles perched on it, and poor JPEG compression, with an inset of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man. Captioned: Will the Real Ivo Shandor Please Stand Up?]

JUSTIN ROCZNIAK (R): Hello, and welcome to Well There’s Your Problem, a podcast about engineering disasters with…

LIAM ANDERSON (L) [chanting]: Studio! Studio! Studio!

R: …with slides.

L: Studio! Suck it, Discord!

ALICE CALDWELL-KELLY (A): It’s quite nice, actually. There’s a little break room, and somebody left us one of those edible arrangements, and a paperback Necronomicon…

DEVON (D) [text over slide]: IT WAS ACTUALLY VERY NICE. I HAD MY OWN CONTROL ROOM. BUT IT WAS NOT WORTH IT.

L [distorted, too close to the mic]: My audio sounds amazing! This bonus episode is about Liam’s cool mic!

A [obligingly]: Yay, Liam’s cool mic.

R: It’s made of meat, though.

L: What, my cool mic?

R: No, the edible arrangement in the break room. They’re usually made of fruit, this one is made of meat. Raw meat.

A: Yes, I was wondering if that was an American thing. [laughter] I’ve never been to Massachusetts before!

L: It’s Innsmouth, Alice. Nobody’s ever been to Innsmouth. It doesn’t technically exist.

R: It’s not even on Google Maps.

A: Is it sort of a, er, township? Unincorporated township?

R: It’s more of a, uh, cult.

A: Like an MLM?

L: Like Christianity!

R: Well, a bunch of fish people founded it in the late eighteen hundreds…

L: Fucking fish.

R: …and let’s say they got up to some questionable activities.

A: Anything I should be worried about?

R: Well…

A: I did travel here by interdimensional portal and that’s just a bit… off-putting? It’s very convenient, but…

L: Swimming, having gills…

R: I took the train.

L: Just breathe air, you little shits!

A: Did they not offer you an interdimensional portal, then?

R: No, they did, I just said I’d rather take the train.

A: How was it?

R: Not bad. It was made of meat, though. The train. Smooth ride. Turns out meat is an excellent shock absorber, just not very practical. There was a flock of ravens trying to eat us the whole way.

A: That’s… a bit odd.

L: Brian Phelps.

R: Brian Phelps is made of meat?

L: No, Brian Phelps is a fucking fish. [shouting, too close to mic again] You’re not fooling anyone, Brian! God, I could go for some salami. Is there any salami in the meat bouquet?

R: There is definitely not any salami in the meat bouquet.

L: I’m gonna make myself a sandwich!

[scraping sound, footsteps, door opens and closes]

A: It’s nice having a studio, though.

R: It’s not bad. I like these chairs with the wheels. Good lumbar support. How was the portal?

A: Terrifying, but brief. Very brief. It materialised right under me in the dairy aisle of Tesco’s, then I was in this howling green tunnel for about five seconds, and then I was here. On the one hand, I didn’t have to show my passport or go through security, but on the other hand, I’m just slightly concerned I might have cancer. Or a prion disease. [nervous laugh] Or maybe I’ll turn into a fish person. Did you mean literal fish people?

R: Yes.

A: I suppose… Someone got very lonely and fucked a fish, or…?

R: Yes.

A: What? Are you being serious? What kind of a fish… Do you mean mermaids?

R: No. In fact, mermaids have a notorious design flaw when it comes to sexual congress with us human types. What you’re after, as a lonely sailor, is an animal known as the “reverse-mermaid,” which is widely regarded as a joke, and depicted as the head and torso of a fish, with human legs, and presumably genitalia, underneath… [drawing a reverse-mermaid on the slide, with the mouse, badly] But which is in fact more of an elder god by the name of Dagon, which does indeed have legs and genitalia, but is more of a fully-anthropomorphic monstrous fish. [drawing monstrous legs and feet] He’s a bit larger and taller. Here, I’ll put a “D” for Dagon. [draws arrow] And the rest of him is up there.

A: As a lonely sailor myself, I don’t see how something like that is any more fuckable than a regular fish. Or a manatee. Frankly, I’d rather fuck a manatee. At least it’s a mammal.

R: Yeah, but you’d be violating the Endangered Species Act.

A [laughing]: I’m sorry, aren’t they endangered? We want them to fuck! You told me to save the manatees, well I’m out there doing it! And then I’m going to save the whales!

R: Debatable whether creating a race of half-human, half-manatee hybrids is saving the species…

A: Are you some kind of fucking manatee eugenicist? If the manatee and I are both consenting adults, and we fancy each other, then leave us the fuck alone! This is how evolution works!

R: In the mind of Donald Trump, yes.

[door opening and closing]

D [text over slide]: I COULD EDIT THAT OUT BUT I’M TOO TRAUMATISED AND DRUNK.

L: You guys… Is that supposed to be a fucking fish?

R: No. It’s the legendary reverse-mermaid.

L: Well, I only respect half of it! Here. The meat bouquet started screaming when I cut into it, so I grabbed some doughnuts.

A: Oh, are there doughnuts? The meat bouquet has a way of…

L: You didn’t hear it?

R: The meat bouquet?

A: …of arresting one’s attention…

L [excited]: The soundproofing in here is fucking incredible!

D [text over slide]: IN RETROSPECT, THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN A RED FLAG.

A: Out of sheer, morbid curiosity, did the doughnut scream?

L: Doughnuts don’t scream.

R: Do the doughnuts scream in… in the UK?

A: …No, not usually. Perhaps, perhaps on the continent, but not usually in Britain. They’re very stuffy and well-behaved.

L: And transphobic.

A: Of course.

L: Do you want one of these?

A: Er, I rather think… I’d better not eat or drink anything until another portal opens up and sends me home. Just in case this is a Persephone sort of situation…

R: Probably a good idea.

L: Low blood sugar kills, Alice. [muffled, chewing]

R: You’ll wind up married to Hades and having to spend six months out of the year in Massachusetts.

L: I’m spending twelve months out of the year in this studio, I don’t care if it’s in Massachusetts. If I have to, I will marry Hades twice.

R: Nah, you see, that’s not legal in Massachusetts. You’d be in a bigamous relationship with yourself.

L: Well, then one of you has to do it. Daddy needs his new mic. These chairs are awesome too!

[rumbling, squeaking]

A: I’m already in a very committed relationship with the Mothman, actually. We go around collapsing bridges and making appearances just out of camera frame. It’s quite fun.

R: Alice is actually a cryptid wanted across several New England states.

A: Yes, I’d like very much to get back to it, and not get cancer or die! [nervous laughter] Ah, shall we get on with the episode?

L: I’m never leaving this studio. You will pry this microphone from my cold, dead hand.

A: Intros? Did we do intros?

R: It’s a bonus episode, they already know us.

D [text over slide]: HONESTLY IF WE’D JUST DONE THE INTROS, IT WOULD’VE SAVED US A LOT OF TROUBLE.

A: Right…

R: But we do have [news drop] the God Damn News.

Part 2 will be another post, give me a minute and I'll link it...

#wtyp #well there's your problem #ghostbusters #long reads #fanfic #fanfiction #crossover fic #gozer the gozerian #alice caldwell-kelly #liam anderson #justin roczniak #devon #engineering disasters #podcast

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yridenergyridenergy · 1 year

Text

Phalaris Vol.II - Kanazawa-shi Culture Hall [2023/05/18] live report

SETLIST

Hibiki

Schadenfreude

Mouai ni Shosu

Devote My Life

Utsutsu, Bouga o Kurau

Ningen wo Kaburu

Uroko

Eddie

GRIEF

Beautiful Dirt

Otogi

The Perfume of Sins

ENCORE

Dozing Green (acoustic)

un deux

T.D.F.F.

Sustain the Untruth

Revelation of mankind

Holy hell, another excellent show!

The first thing that hit me at Kanazawa-shi Culture Hall was that I wasn't passed the memo for shimote? There were so many young women wearing pretty little dresses. They also happened to not move that much, barely headbang during the show. I wonder if they had photoshoots in Kanazawa's old village neighbourhood and wanted to remain prim and proper for Kaoru and Toshiya. Anyway, because of the chairs' disposition and the fact that the fan in front of me decided to occupy the aisle on her right (technically allowed), I had an unobstructed view of all of the members. Tomorrow, on the shinkansen back to Tokyo, or on the long flight back home in the next few days, I'll try to commit to paper my memory of every member's look and outfits!

Shinya had his traditional white top with black pants, Die had his black and white-lined tunic tucked into a belt with the Roman soldier kind of leather leggings and his usual bold mascara, Toshiya wore the black lace veil version of his outfit, Kaoru came in with the dual-patterned suit (the top is black & white while the pants are black and leopard yellow/orange) and finally, Kyo adorned his the dark version of his outfit, with the G.I.S.M. T-shirt.

Before I cut the post for a shorter version, the rest appearing after the break below, I HAVE to mention the dance that Toshiya does during Eddie and that we all seem to be forgetting! It's the segment where essentially just Shinya is playing, the second time "Shimatsugaki wa kaki oeta ka? Mirai o sute doko e daibu?" is sung, in a more comical voice. Toshiya gets low, bending his knees, and he starts doing what I can only describe as a "happy dance", throwing his arms high and low, doing exaggerated steps in a circle while this is played. The only gif I could find to illustrate that is this, but crouched:

Also, for Eddie, almost nobody was singing. At some point, Kyo got pissed and threw his mic impulsively in the air backward, almost landing on Shinya's drums. For the long seconds of vocal silence that followed with Kyo not so much glaring as intimidatingly and expectantly staring at the centre of the crowd, it sounded like I was the only one shouting the whole near-end lyrics? People please, learn Eddie! It's not my favourite song on the album and I don't know the lyrics by heart, but I can make vaguely similar sounds that satisfy Kyo! He eventually picked up his mic again to resume singing from "Kusodomo ga" (Shitholes) to finish the song in frustration.

GRIEF followed and it looked like Kyo was still pissed and sang with more fury. In fact, I'd say that the Eddie performance affected the encore all the way until maybe halfway into un deux, at which point Kyo demanded us to sing with him, higher and more, which fans did join in mass this time.

Going back to the start, Hibiki and Schadenfreude seemed like they had even more passion by the band than before. It sounded like nobody shouted "Ikedomo jigoku ka" with me though? By the way, Hibiki's backdrop is very beautiful, showcasing a bunch of flower coloured lines in water, a bit like if ink is dropped in that liquid and that it eventually hangs in suspension.

Mouai ni Shosu I'm sure is where Kyo puts his arms wide up to his side and dances a bit with his feet, slowly, while staring at us very intently like he controls us.

Throughout the show, it seemed to me like Kaoru came out from his spot way more. There was something he saw in us because he kept teasing us with his head bending to the side, he came up to place a foot on the ledge more often and he sped up to the left arm of the stage almost as soon as the occasion presented. Usually, Toshiya is the one visiting us at the front all the time and Kaoru stays back. Kind of the same thing with Die actually. I noticed yesterday that Die is in his own little world on the right side of the stage, just disappearing off-stage during instrument switches or breaks, whipping his hair back at all odd times, etc. Anyway, it was great to see Kaoru more out there/here!

In Devote My Life, Kyo trotted toward the right arm of the stage right away, jumping over the equipment and then swaying his head there as he asked for the crowd to chant. He came back to the centre and I think Toshiya did the same either in that song or another, but on his way back to the main stage, Toshiya's jump involved really bending his knees along with reclining his bass, which made the jump total rockstar-style for a mere second!

Kyo ran to the left arm of the stage near the end of Utsutsu, Bouga o Kurau, and he did the first: "eranananananaze nanda" (he seems to add and roll an r at the start rather than just go with nana for the whole series), followed by a pause and: "Sore!" right before we're supposed to chant the second series ourselves, but he was already making his way back to the centre of the stage and I'm not sure how well he heard anyone in the crowd. In any case, he clearly was not satisfied this time, but he has reacted worse. Then he extends his hand and belts out those "Ooooooh in mind" lines to conclude the song epically as always!

In Ningen wo Kaburu, I heard a bit more clearly this time that Kyo changed the lyrics. Most of the time, he asks us to chant: "Dare no tame ni ikiru darou?" but he changes it occasionally to shout off-melody about doing it for his own sake, I believe? It was 'ore no', right?

For 13, again that one seemed a few inches more intense than usual, with the face being ripped forcefully off when singing emotionslly about throwing it all away. Man, I can't shake the feeling that we're supposed to be singing Die's backup vocals of: "in the dark, in the heart of, here's everything, Never die." It just doesn't seem right that this moment has no engagement from the crowd. Not to mention that most fans do not move during this song even if it's so powerful and rock- y and that the band goes hard on stage.

I can't remember in which song, but Kyo was so intense in his steps that he bumped backward into his mic stand, which wobbled but thankfully did not fall on Shinya's drums. Kyo glanced a bit worriedly at it but quickly went back to the performance like a professional.

Also, somewhere in the second half of the main setlist, in one of the breaks, Toshiya poured water from his plastic bottle on himself, mainly on his head but I think also on his chest, his back turned to us. He finished by spitting some water upward like a fountain before turning to face us.

Otogi starts in silence with Kyo hitting his forehead, head bent, with his microphone, which he holds with both hands. You can hear heavy breathing, maybe hints of sniffs even. The screen fills up with bright, bright red from the bottom, Kaoru's distortion fills the air and Shinya hints of beats flutter after a while. The song then turns turns really heavy. Toshiya makes various gestures, concealing his eyes with both hands at one point, but he starts the song by holding his hand and his bass high, becoming a proud silhouette against the vivid red.

Then, the spinal mic stand comes forth and Kyo does eery little noises, only to blast out: "NOSE, EYES, EARS" out of nowhere, it's always unexpected! There was so much smoke after "The sound of the brain dying" throughout the song that Kyo was hidden from sight eventually.

The song ended and it seemed like even Kyo took a moment to grasp that it was the end of the main setlist. In fact, the entire band didn't seem ultra aware. It was just that kind of show, so awesome!

The band came back for the encore, Shinya as usual clothed in black with the tour T-shirt, Die with a lose black shirt, his very short leather shorts and the aforementioned tights, Toshiya changed his top for the classy sleeveless dress shirt and Kaoru finally took off his patterned jacket and came back with the leopard pants and his black dress shirt. I don't know how he keeps his layered outfits for the entire main setlist all the time while every other member besides Shinya slowly divests themselves as the heat becomes overbearing! But anyway, what shocked us the most was Kyo returning to the stage with HEAVY black makeup on the lips, as well as on his eyelids now! With the tone of Dozing Green in acoustic and the beginning of un deux, combined with the poor reception he got during Eddie, Kyo looked downright depressed but nevertheless intimidating. With his somewhat spiky blond hair, he reminded me of his Kisou look a bit.

After un deux successfully lightened the mood with reconciliation, T.D.F.F. got everybody totally crazy. We were jumping and headbanging, Toshiya went to the left arm of the stage again for his solo, and Kaoru took notice of shimote's dedication to the song so he walked up front and mouthed a "hey" or whatever with us. He peered really intensely, seriously at all places in the shimote section, it was almost unnerving! Kyo tends to stare at no particular spot, basically a bit above the crowd, while Toshiya and Die smile and stare slightly but then they focus on playing. Kaoru was taking his sweet time scanning the entire crowd on his side of the venue yo. He'd nod from time to time when our reaction wad energetic enough.

It must have been in the encore, because I'm confident that Kaoru was wearing only his black dress shirt, Kyo sprinted back to what seemed to be his crate in the centre, so Kaoru peered at that and prepared to head back to shimote but Kyo was quicker and he placed his hand on Kaoru's left shoulder, holding him there as he passed and made his own way to shimote instead, telling Kaoru that it was fine to stay there for now. It's crazy how gaga we become for those small interactions just because they come off as such an antisocial or asocial band, but it works!!!

At one point, I'd say either during Beautiful Dirt or in the encore with Sustain the Untruth, Kyo stared at someone behind the VIP rows and mocked the weakness of their raised hand. When perhaps the fan in question raised their second arm, he imitated that and the way he did it, it clearly made a fool of the lack of energy dispensed. Again, he gestured for the neck to be ruined instead and began dancing on his spot like in Sustain the Untruth.

The last song came and Kyo stood on his crate. He asked us repetitively if we could go, putting his hand over his face and sniffing like he wasn't sure or convinced, which prompted me to scream before he asked again and everybody in the crowd joined as well in the cheer. Kyo then went: "KAAAAAANAAAAZAAAWAAAAAA", followed by: "KAAAAAAAAAAANAAAAAAAAAAAzawa". He compelled us to keep it up for the last song a couple of times more, after which he screamed: "Then die!" roughly, adding "Last Song" quickly almost like an after-thought immediately after as the first notes of Revelation of mankind began.

What ensued was headbanging, some joint singing between the crowd and Kyo, and a beautiful final. By the end, he had almost none of the black makeup left on the lips, maybe only at the corners of his mouth, but none dripping on his chin due to sweat - maybe stuck on his mic or he swallowed it while singing? At the end, he just stood there exhausted and wiped the rest of it off, only the eyes still shadowed. Kyo clapped multiple times, nodding like we deserved those claps, until Shinya's finishing beats. Then he clapped some more, pointed at the young girl with the headphones in the crowd and doing the finger hook to her a couple of times, nodding and pointing twice at his temples, making it obvious he was refering to her. Then he turned his attention back to the whole crowd, stepped back a couple of inches, belted out: "KANAZAWA" micless, then: "Bye Bye" in the same fashion with a curt wave of his hand, and left.

Shinya threw his drumsticks from on top of Kyo's crate afterward and as he left the stage, he walked squarely far, more than a metre away from Kaoru as he passed. Kaoru had been collecting some picks from his micstand and he slightly smirked at Shinya on the latter's way out. The three remaining members on stage threw stuff mostly in the back. I guess they really want to make use of the stage's arms on the side to reach parts of the crowd that they couldn't have access to from a general-admission type of venue.

Toshiya left rather early tonight and didn't seem all that smiley, but he bowed respectfully and appreciatively before leaving.

I think there was a small interaction between Die and Kaoru as they crossed path to alternate the side of the stage that they were donating picks to.

And as you already know, Kaoru did the magic trick of throwing a pick, we look up and get blinded by the lights in the ceiling, look back down to see where it landed, and Kaoru's right there opening his palm with his mouth wide open in a smirk, expression falsely surprised, then he popped it out of his palm and next thing I know, I flex my left hand while people around me are looking everywhere at the ground for the pick and there it is, something solid apparently landed in my palm! Woooo!

What a wonderful way to end this streak of seven shows that I was able to see this tour! I hope everyone will have an amazing time for the following, concluding shows, as well as during the Petit Brabançon but even more so the sukekiyo tour this summer, you lucky fellows!

#Dir en grey #live report #Phalaris vol II #phalarisII #tour23 Phalaris vol II #Kyo #Toshiya #Die #Kaoru #Shinya #interactions #interaction #Kanazawa #2023

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mangoisms · 1 year

Text

like the part of the song where it falls ━ miyuki kazuya

━ part three: also i wanted to be able to love. and we all know how that one goes, don’t we? read part one / part two

━ wc: 6k

━ warnings: none

━ masterpost

“It stinks in here.”

That’s the first thing Miyuki says when he steps into the studio the next day.

Jerry, at the computer, laughs quietly.

You grin. “Yeah. Sorry. That would be Dennis.”

“Right. Saw the release today. They’re not shutting you down.”

“Well, it was put much more nicely there. They’re not shutting us down now but they are giving us the rest of the year to perform well. If we don’t —” you make a cutting motion with your hand across your neck “— we’re out.”

“Fixed our pay, though,” Jerry mutters, sending you a sidelong glance.

Righttt. Dennis had unapologetically let it slip you’d been covering part of his check. You think it was revenge for him getting in trouble for not sending a representative down for the company to the press conference but really, it just makes them sound like assholes.

Jerry was a little upset about it but you’d pressed that if push came to shove, you had your sister and Hector to fall back on. He had no one other than his grandma and while DJing at parties brings in a little extra side cash, it wouldn’t have been enough had you not stepped in.

But that’s over now. They’re paying him his old rate again.

Of course, you two might end up turned out onto the street come the new year but you’d cross that bridge when you got to it.

Miyuki doesn’t say anything to that, though his eyes sweep over to you curiously. You just shake your head minutely. You’ll tell him downstairs.

You and Jerry had come in early to set up. He hadn’t changed much but you two needed to do a few tests, run through some things, wake up that old muscle memory of how things used to be.

Things are the same again now, except for the purple bruise on your temple, the professional baseball player standing in your studio, and the hubbub about your return tonight.

“You want anything from downstairs, Mouser?”

Jerry shakes his head. “Had Jersey Mike’s earlier. I’m still good. When’re you gonna be back?”

“Won’t be long. We’re doing BestBuy tomorrow. Probably just an hour or something. That okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Where is the Lysol, though? He is right. Freakin’ stinks of weed in here.”

You snicker. “It’s in the closet.”

“Right, thanks. Have fun.”

You go over to Miyuki, who is taking in the room. Overall a small recording studio, you have the control room, where Jerry operates the sound board, then the live room — the actual studio — wherein you broadcast from. Both areas are separate from each other. A glass window mounted above the sound board looks into it, showing the desk with the various computer screens, your mic and headphones, and a chair. On the walls inside the control room you have a few puzzles you and Jerry have done together framed, along with newspaper clippings of Night Owl’s sparse mentions in the media.

More have appeared, though, from far more well-known newspapers, like the Washington Post, the New York Times. The new ones read things like:

WHO AND WHAT IS NIGHT OWL, KCSD’S NIGHTTIME RADIO SEGMENT?

SOCAL’S MOST UNDERRATED RADIO SEGMENT, NIGHT OWL, ON 101.1 FM

UNKNOWN TO THE GENERAL PUBLIC BUT BELOVED BY UC STUDENTS AND GRAVEYARD SHIFT WORKERS, NIGHT OWL, A RADIO SEGMENT

HOW THE PADRES’ WINNING HOME-RUN OF THE WORLD SERIES THRUSTED A LITTLE-KNOWN SHOW INTO STARDOM

“Little-known show? That’s kinda cruel. And that’s coming from me.”

Jerry snickers.

You grin. “Yeah, well, sympathetic press gets us more listeners, so they can keep going.”

“That is true…”

The two of you slip out of the studio.

He glances at you and smirks. “Nice shirt.”

You grin, tugging at the black shirt with just the Wonder Woman logo on the breast. “Thank you. Wonder Woman is excellent. I have a poster of her and the Wonderfam in my room.”

“Of course you do.”

He pushes the down button for the elevator.

“I’ve been thinking I want to get some more snails if I get a bigger tank, like two of them, and you know what I’m gonna name them?”

“Let me guess — Wonder Woman and Superman?”

“Aw, look at you. All knowledgeable about comics now.”

“Well, you did talk my ear off about it for two hours straight.”

The elevator doors slide open.

You smile. “I did, didn’t I?”

Your studio is on the tenth floor of KCSD’s building, which is located in Hillcrest, a neighborhood west of your apartment in Normal Heights. Right across the I-805.

Outside, the sun is beginning its descent. The time change is in a couple days, so it’ll be setting even earlier after that. You take the time to enjoy the last long days of sunlight. It’s warm today, perfectly comfortable, especially with the sun still out and a light breeze. You’re in your Wonder Woman t-shirt, dark jean shorts, your regular Doc Martens that are scuffed and worn, and a pair of black over-the-knee socks, finished with a black cherry lip lacquer.

“So, what was he talking about? Did they lower your pay?”

“Not mine. His. A few months ago. But,” you sigh, tilting your face to the sky, closing your eyes as you come to the crosswalk. You still need a second to adjust to the brightness. “Jerry lives on his own with his grandmother. It’s just them two. She has diabetes, though, and needs medication for it. We get insurance but it doesn’t cover the entirety of the prescription. The two of them wouldn’t have been able to live on that paycheck, so I told payroll to fill it from mine.”

Miyuki is quiet for a second. You open your eyes, a little more adjusted to the light.

“Nice of you,” he says at last.

“It’s just me and Batman and Robin. It made the most sense.”

“Hm.”

The light turns. You two cross the street to the 7-Eleven, where Rico’s Tacos, a food truck, sits adjacent of.

You and Jerry are loyal customers to them, so when you step up the window, you are instantly recognized.

“Tee! What’s up? We heard about what happened! Free tacos for life, yeah? Or, well, maybe just a few months.”

You grin up at Jaime Moreno as he leans out the window, handsome face split into a grin.

“Cheap ass,” his sister, Juana ‘Janie’ Moreno, hisses, shoulder checking him out of the window to grin down at you. “Mi cielito, you can have as many free tacos as you want!”

“She’s not gonna go on a date with you,” Jaime mutters.

“Yeah, well, she’s not gonna go on a date with you either, stupid ass.”

You laugh. Miyuki snorts quietly.

Janie’s eyes dart to him, eyebrow raising. “Who’s this?”

Jaime looks at him, too, blinking.

You can’t help but laugh. “This is Miyuki. He’s the guy who concussed me.”

“Ohhh,” they say in unison.

“Sorry, man,” Jaime says, eyes twinkling. “We don’t watch much baseball.”

“Oh, don’t feel bad,” you say. “I didn’t know who he was until I woke up in the hospital.”

“Okay,” Miyuki says. “Why don’t we order?”

“Right.”

You place your orders, he pays, and in no time, you’re sitting on the curb next to each other, soda bottles between you, feasting on your still-hot tacos.

“Okay,” he says around a mouthful of a spicy chicken taco. “This is good.”

“Right? And look, no allergic reactions!” You grin, gesturing to yourself.

He snickers.

You two sit in a relatively peaceful silence. Cars drive up and down the street, some pulling into 7-Eleven for gas and snacks, while others line up at Rico’s for dinner. A few pigeons land near you, cooing, no doubt eyeing your food.

Gold rays paint over you, picking out the red highlights in Miyuki’s dark hair, light brown skin glowing.

Your stomach swoops like you missed a step and you look away.

On the sidewalk, a teenage girl walks a small dog. A little girl skips ahead of them, running through the pigeons, letting out a delighted laugh as they flutter away.

You smile, watching her go.

Across the street, a woman hurries down the sidewalk, arms laden with grocery bags. One of them breaks, groceries spilling out. You pause, already starting to set your plate down to run across the street and help her, but someone else swoops in, kindly helping to pick up the vegetables and fruits that tumbled onto the concrete.

You sigh wistfully. “I love humanity.”

“Not exactly representative of humanity collectively, is it? Logically speaking.”

“These are just outliers, you think?”

He nods like it should be obvious. “There are lots of words to describe humanity but I’m not sure good is one of them.”

“No?” you ask lightly.

He shrugs. “Look at what we do. Pollute the earth, start wars over nothing, create mass weapons of destruction. Doesn’t sound very good to me.”

“You think humanity is inherently selfish and bad?”

“I don’t know. I don’t see anything that says it’s inherently good.”

You smile. “How miserable you must be to resent your own kind.”

“I don’t resent humanity. I just don’t think we’re good. That’s all.”

“So, what do you believe in?”

“Myself.”

“Miserable and lonely, then. Sounds like an excuse.”

“An excuse?”

“You’re letting them win,” you say patiently. “Being a cynic, thinking humanity is a plague on this earth, that’s the easy way out. It excuses you, doesn’t it? Despair and cynicism are easy. It absolves you of responsibility. Removes yourself from the equation, from the possibility of helping because, why help if there is no hope?”

You pause and take a breath. You aren’t hungry anymore. Something bubbles inside your chest but you force yourself to be calm. To be patient.

“Miyuki… You aren’t smart or philosophical for saying humanity is doomed. Not at all. You have to believe humanity is good.”

“Why?”

“Humanity named kindness so it must know kindness. We just saw a stranger help another stranger. They didn’t have to. But they did. If you look for greed, selfishness, or corruption, you will find it. Try looking for kindness for once, for the goodness of humanity.”

“You —”

“Are naive? The way that I am, it is strategic. Necessary. Because what else do we have? It’s too easy to go that route. And it’s what they want. The government wants us hopeless, wants us to think there is no way to solve the problems we have created. Wants us to think we are inherently greedy, selfish, and evil because it absolves them of responsibility. And when we believe it, it absolves us of responsibility, too. But it’s a double-whammy, because not only that, but we’re also getting fucked over by the government all the while. No one wins. Nothing gets better.”

You set your food ahead, gazing intently at him. In the setting rays of the sun, his eyes are honey brown.

“Even if you can’t bring yourself to believe that, at least appreciate that you are here, existing with everyone else. How extraordinary it is that we even exist. You know how young the universe is? It’s just barely coming into adolescence. For this brief moment in time, life can exist. But for most of the universe’s life, it will be cold, dark, and empty. Stars will die out. Even the black holes will die in some quadrillion years.”

“Just sounds like an existential crisis if you ask me.”

“We’re here, Miyuki. Existing in that haven in time. We should enjoy our time here.”

“I enjoy my life.”

You take a leap.

“I’m saying other than baseball.”

He falters. You can tell you’ve got him out, because his next words are sharp again.

“Awfully presumptuous, aren’t you?”

You knew that. And yet, something inside you urged you to say it anyway. To presume.

“I’m happy to be proved wrong.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. The sky is painted shades of pink and orange as the sun sets.

“What do you want me to say?”

“What do you do for fun?”

“Baseball.”

“Other than baseball. I like photography, doing puzzles in my free time, watching Say Yes to the Dress, reading poetry, and making playlists. Not just for the show but for me, too. I like watching Batman and Robin move around in their tank. I like — love — the ocean and the beach. I like swimming, too, but the ocean is usually too cold for that, and the pool at my apartment complex isn’t taken care of enough and while I love swimming — love that feeling after several hours of it, when you’re in bed and you feel like you’re rocking on a boat — my fear of getting a UTI is stronger.”

His lips twitch.

You nudge his shoulder with yours. “There has to be something. Like my puzzles. I do them in my free time but also if the show is particularly slow. Jerry likes to do sudoku and he likes Star Wars, but not the recent movies that come out. He says those all suck. Rogue One is apparently the only good movie to come out. I’ve seen it. It’s actually very… touching.”

He sets his plate down with a sigh and picks up the soda bottle, which is sweating in the warm weather. Air hisses out as he untwists the cap. He takes a drink. You try not to stare at the long line of his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing. Focus. You need to focus and stop ogling him.

Easier said than done.

“What are you going to do during the offseason?” you ask, trying for a difference approach.

“The usual. Workout. Review game footage. Plan for next season. The only thing different now is I’m still house hunting and no, real estate doesn’t much interest me outside of that.”

You purse your lips, thinking.

He sets the bottle down and looks at you.

“You should show me.”

“Show you what?”

“How to…” he gestures aimlessly. “Enjoy life. Outside of baseball, I mean.”

You give him a sad smile. “It’s not exactly something that can be taught, Miyuki.”

“Maybe not. But it’s worth a shot. Prove it to me and I’ll believe you.”

“I’m not going to do it because of that. I don’t care about being right or wrong. You can think what you’d like. But… if you really want to, maybe I can help you get into the swing of it.”

“Do your worst.”

“No,” you say, smiling. “I’m going to do my best.”

The look in his eyes is hard to quantify but the set of his mouth is soft.

“I look forward to it.”

[Night Owl Transcript — 20:07 — 11/4/2022]

Tee: It’s great to be back here, guys. Really, really great. I’m in desperate need of some good old human connection. Lucky, too, that our switchboard is literally lighting up. Wow. [Laughing] What a reception. Trending on Twitter, too. That’s fun. Don’t worry, guys, we’ll get to callers in a sec, for now, our first song of the night… I thought about it for a long time. Interestingly enough, there is only one song I know of in my catalog with the word concussion in it. And it’s a great song! But not the tone I’d like to set for tonight. So…

[Coldplay’s “A Head Full of Dreams” starts in the background]

Tee: What’s tonight's theme? Frankly, it’s me being grateful to be alive. To be here right now, in this moment of time. I hope you guys can feel that, too.

[“A Head Full of Dreams” plays] Leave your broken windows open And in the light streams And you get a head A head full of dreams

[Night Owl Transcript — 21:47 — 11/4/2022]

Caller 52: Hello? Tee: Hi! Thanks for calling in. What’s your name? Caller 52: My name is Emi. Tee: Hi, Emi! I’m Tee. Where are you calling from? Caller 52: From Japan, actually. Tee: No way, are you serious? Caller 52: Yes. It’s only the afternoon here, so it’s easy to listen in. Many of my friends are since everything happened with Miyuki-san. I just wanted to say we are glad you’re okay. We’ve been listening for the last week but we’ll keep listening. So, you have some supporters across the pacific, too. Tee: Hey, Emi, I really appreciate that. Thank you. And since it’s only the afternoon there, I hope you have a good day, too. I’ve seen a lot on Twitter saying people not just from San Diego or the SoCal area are listening in and so many callers are saying that, too. Guys — that is so sick.

[Tai Verdes’ “A-O-K” starts in the background]

Tee: I feel like I’ve been saying it all night but — you guys are freakin’ awesome. I’m glad we’re all here tonight.

[“A-O-K” plays] Livin’ in this big blue world With my head up in outer space I know I'll be A-O, A-O-K I know I'll be A-O, A-O-K When I see trouble come my way I’ll be makin' lemonade

[Night Owl Transcript — 22:54 — 11/5/2022]

Caller 106: I just think it’s crazy that was your first baseball game, ever! Tee: [Laughs] Yeah, I know, just my luck, right? Caller 106: Is it true he paid for your hospital bills? Tee: Every cent. From my week-long stay for the concussion and for the allergic reaction, too. Caller 106: God, that is awesome. It’s really nice to have you back, Tee. Mouser did good but it’s just not the same. You’ve gotten me through three years of college. Tee: Hey, that was all you. I just kept you company. Any requests? Caller 106: I’m about to drive home from work. I could use something to keep me awake. Something I can sing along to, you know? Tee: Oh, I got you. Roll down the windows and enjoy — and drive safely, please.

[AWOLNATION’s “Pacific Coast Highway in the Movies” plays] I’m lonely, I’m confused, and I’m glad that you’re here Give me shiny things to stop my tears Pacific coast highway in the movies You promised me sunshine, why’s it gloomy? We’ll wait ‘til the night to catch the moonbeams Pacific coast highway in the movies

(03:07) you ever been to the zoo? (12:30) Jesus is that how long night owl runs? Until 3 am???? (12:30) yes :DDD good morning (12:31) It’s noon (12:31) And are you asking in general? (12:32) :( i’m talking about here! (12:32) Haha I know I just wanted to mess with you (12:32) No I’ve never been (12:33) we must fix fhat immediately (12:33) *that. are you busy today??? after bestbuy?? (12:33) Today?? No (12:34) yay! that’s what we’re doing today (12:34) welcome to day 1 of operation enjoy your life (in the offseason)

Things continue like that for the most part.

Night Owl runs from eight to three, so you often sleep in until noon. Not the most sustainable sleeping schedule and the first few days are rough, since you’ve been on a ‘normal’ one without having the show, but once you get into the swing of it, it gets better.

Your days are often free, too, so if Miyuki doesn’t have a photoshoot or an interview or any other kind of public engagement, you’re dragging him around the city.

It’s mostly to just get him outside.

He doesn’t need to pick up, like, knitting or something but… he should go out and do things anyway. They don’t have to be extraordinary, either. Even going out and sitting in a cafe and reading is good.

He’s a bit of a solitary creature, you find. He doesn’t have friends here — “I have the team,” he says, but when you ask whether they hang out, he admits it’s never quite voluntary on his part. More of an obligation. Outside of that, there is nothing else. But the thing is, humans need social contact. Social support. It is quite literally hardwired into your DNA.

And being solitary or a homebody doesn’t have to change. You get wanting to stay home. But it’s just… there’s a balance to these things, right?

Mostly… you just want him to enjoy himself.

Bit by bit, it’s starting to work.

You find yourself at Barnes & Noble with your sister at one point and find a book on Shohei Ohtani that seems interesting. You ask him about it and he says he hasn’t read it.

You buy two copies and drag him to Balboa Park to read on the grass on a particularly warm November day.

He humors you, and most of all, you certainly entertain him by asking, “What the hell an ERA and an OPS are,” and all kinds of questions about the baseball jargon you stumble upon in your reading.

Oftentimes, you bring your new camera, a very expensive model you’d picked out at BestBuy a couple weeks ago after several hours of contemplation.

Photography is just a hobby for you, nothing serious, which is why you still haven’t accepted the Padres’ offer to join their team.

The show is going well. More than well. Most nights, you have a long line of callers and even more interaction on Twitter. Once people discover you, they tend to stick around, liking what they find. It helps you have people from all around the world listening. Your listeners in Japan and other parts of the world get the advantage of it being afternoon when your show airs, so it’s feasible to reach a wide audience there. Especially after all the attention you got.

The blessings of modern technology also allow for each segment to be recorded and stored away on streaming apps, so if people aren’t staying up, they can listen the next day, after the fact. That is a popular option.

The time continues to pass. Miyuki’s birthday comes up — turning a whole twenty-nine. You’re a few years younger than him at twenty-six.

November ends and December begins. The city is festive, houses decorated in their various religious symbols for the upcoming holidays. But of course, the lowest the temperatures will go is the fifties and that’s at night. In the day, it floats around the mid-sixties. Cool but not uncomfortable. For some, it ruins the experience of the winter holidays, but you quite like being able to still wear shorts or leggings during the month, so you don’t complain.

All the while, you and Miyuki hang out. You visit museums, art galleries, exhibits, botanical gardens. Sometimes you go to your apartment and complete your more difficult puzzles since he likes the challenge or you try to teach him photography. Sometimes you go to his apartment and he answers your questions on baseball or you cook together or you play shogi together (more like he teaches you how to play). He’d tried it out after your talk, said he was always forced to play it with one of his old teammates from high school but he hadn’t touched it since he graduated. Mostly, you think he enjoys beating you at it but you don’t mind.

That’s the point, isn’t it?

You’re still searching for new things to explore, though.

“Has there ever been anything you wanted to do as a kid that you never did? I always wanted to go to Magic Mountain but my sister is a scaredy cat.”

“Why didn’t your parents just go with you?”

“Didn’t see any use in even going to Six Flags if she wasn’t going to go and they certainly weren’t going to come with me on rides.”

He glances at you, curious.

The two of you find yourselves sitting in the stands of a Little League game. You’d stepped out of a cafe for a late lunch when he spotted the fields and dragged you over to it, which was a nice surprise. Most often, if your days are not pre-planned, you just go where your whims take you. But now it’s his whims leading you to this field. Probably expecting a high school team or something. No, this is Little League. And you mean Little League.

Most of the kiddos running around look to be four to six years old. Their batting helmets are too big for their heads. Volunteers stand around, watching like hawks.

You watch with a small smile as a little boy hits the ball off the tee, then, instead of running down first base line, runs forward to chase it.

A volunteer swoops in as the other boys of the team close in to grab the ball in clumsy formation; the volunteer lifts the little boy back over to the first base line and urges him on. He finally runs for first base.

Miyuki looks amused, too. You wouldn’t have thought he’d enjoyed watching but these little kids are fun to watch. No one gets upset when they chase the ball after hitting it instead of running to the bases. Or if they make more clumsy mistakes. They’re just kids, after all. Babies, really. But they’re having fun and so, everyone else is, too.

Even Miyuki, who watches with a soft look in his eyes.

Or he was. Now he is looking at you, curiosity clear in those amber brown eyes.

“What?”

“I know I’m being a hypocrite by saying this but you don’t talk much about your parents. Did they visit you when you were in the hospital?”

“You can ask questions about my life, Miyuki. We’re friends. Friends do that.”

“Right.”

“And no, they didn’t.” You shrug. “But that’s fine. My sister and I don’t talk to them. They had very specific visions about what we should do with our lives. Go to an Ivy League, become a doctor, an engineer, a programmer. Neither of us wanted that. My sister wanted to be a flight attendant and I wanted to be a radio host. Not very impressive or glamorous jobs in their eyes and certainly not jobs that would earn us six figures so we could give them money. So. We don’t talk. Well, really, they disowned us. But you know.”

“That…”

You shoot him a grin. “It’s okay. They weren’t that great growing up. They took care of us but it was always just a transactional thing and if we didn’t do something they liked, they always said something like After all we have done for you blah blah blah. As if housing us and clothing us and feeding us makes them good parents.”

You yawn, stretching your arms above your head. “Anyway, we’ve got Hector’s family now. They’re loads better.”

“Endlessly optimistic.”

“I can’t change anything,” you chuckle. “That’s in the past. I’ve grieved it, believe me. But in the end, there’s just nothing left for me. So.”

He nods and turns his eyes back to the field.

Another little boy hits the ball from the tee. He doesn’t try chasing it but he heads straight for second base instead of first.

“My mom died when I was a kid.”

You jolt, head whipping towards him. He doesn’t look at you, instead out at the field, where chaos unfolds, punctuated by parents’ cheers and urges and the kids’ yells and laughter. It balances the weight of his words but you still feel them pierce deep in the soft tissue of your heart.

“After she died, my dad wasn’t all there. For most of my childhood and teenage years, he was never there. Had to cook, clean, balance the checkbook, pay the bills. He came around in my final year of high school but it still wasn’t…”

“Can’t make up for all that you had to do,” you murmur.

“But it’s like you said. I can’t change any of it. He tries now, which I guess is what matters the most in the end.”

“Still,” you say softly. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that from such a young age.”

“I had baseball,” he says, looking at you. “If I didn’t have my parents, I had baseball. But I guess that’s the point of this.”

You tilt your head, silently urging him to go on.

He lifts a shoulder. “I won’t have baseball forever.”

“I don’t know,” you say, smiling. “If there is anyone who can keep going forever, I think it’s you.”

“Yeah. Then they’d ban me from the parks.”

You laugh and turn back around, shifting on the metal bench. Your shoulder brushes his.

“I don’t remember much from my childhood other than wanting to play baseball and be the best,” he says, finally addressing your previous question.

“Didn’t even want to go to an amusement park or something?”

He gives you a suspicious looks. “What’s with you and amusement parks?”

“They’re fun!”

“Didn’t realize you were such an adrenaline junkie, tomcat. Maybe you did get hit with that ball on purpose.”

You laugh. “I am not and I did not! They’re just fun! This is coming from someone who has clearly never experienced the pleasure of a rollarcoaster.”

“There are many words to describe rollarcoasters and a pleasure is not one of them. Besides, you’re still recovering from your concussion. I don’t think it’s a great idea to go on a contraption that shoots you from zero to seventy in a few seconds.”

“I’ll ask Hector when I see him tomorrow for my appointment.”

He chuckles. ”You do that. But you know what I have been thinking?”

“Tell me.”

“We’ve been to the zoo, we’ve been all around the city but… why haven’t we gone to the aquarium yet?”

“Oh, my god, you’re right.”

“Doing anything tomorrow?”

“I have my appointment. We’ll go to the aquarium next week Tuesday. Be less busy.”

“Hey, maybe I’m doing something.”

“Are you?” you ask knowingly.

He looks away. “No… but it’s the principle!”

“You’re right. Are you free next week Tuesday to go to the aquarium?”

“Hmm. Yes.”

You nudge his shoulder, smiling. He nudges back, then stays there, your shoulders and arms pressed together, skin against skin. Your heart does something funny at the feeling.

You stay like that until the game is over.

Your six-week follow up appointment is tomorrow in the afternoon.

Another round of CT and X-ray scans reveal good — great — news. Your brain contusions are completely healed, which finally makes Hector relax. Your skull fracture is entirely healed, too. It wasn’t a very big fracture — if it was, you’d be in a whole lot more trouble, like, brain surgery kind of trouble — so it’s smallness in size lends a hand to your healing. The bruise on your temple is gone, too.

You do have one question, though.

“Soooo, when do you think I’m safe to ride a rollarcoaster?”

“Six months from now,” Hector says flatly.

“What?!”

“One-hundred-and-nineteen. That was the exit velocity on that ball. Concussions don’t just heal like that. They take a long time.”

You pout. You’d figured that. You didn’t think you had to wait six months, though…

“How about two months?”

“Why do you even want to get on one?”

“For fun.”

Hector looks at you for a second, lips pursed. Then he sighs. “Three months. Wait at least three months from the day it happened, so October twenty-fifth to January twenty-fifth. Then after that, you can go. But you must exercise caution. Listen to your body. If you start to feel sick or if your head hurts, stop immediately. Okay? These things are different in everybody but you still have to be careful.”

“I will be. Promise.”

[Night Owl Transcript — 20:34 — 12/9/2022]

Tee: It’s Friday night, folks, which means it’s I-play-music-and-you-imagine-your-lives-as-movies night. Have fun and be safe out there.

[M83’s “Midnight City” plays] Lookin’ at the milky skyline The city is my church It wraps me in its blinding twilight

[Off-air recording starts] Mouser: You and Miyuki sure are spending a lot of time together, huh. Tee: Yeees? Why? Mouser: Just an observation. Tee: Is it really? Mouser: [Laughs] It is! You guys seem like you’re having a lot of fun together. Just surprised, I guess. Tee: Why? Mouser: He just doesn’t seem like the kind of guy you’d be friends with. Tee: I guess not. But he’s not all bad. I just think he’s… Mouser: Got a couple chips on those broad, broad shoulders? Tee, Mouser: [Laughter] Tee: Pretty much. Mouser: I guess I’m not surprised. Guy has bad luck when it comes to concussing people. Tee: [Chuckling] What? Mouser: No way. You don’t know? Tee: Know what? Mouser: Ohhhhh. Oh, shit. Wait. It was this thing… hold on. I’m going in.

Jerry opens the door to the studio, rolling in the chair from the control room. You sit up, sliding off the headphones, pulling your legs from the desk, frowning a little. Midnight City plays quietly from the headphones that you set on the desk.

“I thought you knew,” Jerry says, looking a tad nervous as he rolls up next to you, tapping quickly on his phone.

“I’d never heard anything about it.”

“Well, basically, like, three or four years ago, during his second season here in the US and with the Atlanta Braves, a few weeks into the season, one of his foul balls hit a little girl in the stands.”

“What?”

He passes you his phone. It’s a recent article, talking about not just your concussion, but the other one, too. About a six-year-old girl who, in a home game in Atlanta between the Braves and the Washington Nationals, was hit by a foul ball in the first inning.

“She suffered permanent brain damage,” he says, frowning a little bit. “Like she started having seizures after and stuff. Speech issues, mobility issues. I looked more into it after I first heard about it, just ‘cause I was curious about him, since he was visiting you and stuff. He did the same for her. Paid her hospital bills. Is still paying for stuff regarding her healthcare and making sure she has a good quality of life, I think. They say she’s doing good now.”

“That’s good at least,” you mumble, still scrolling the article.

“But… after it happened, he slumped bad. Like really bad. Like the worst slump of his career apparently. This guy’s, like, a heavy hitter, right? Up there with Judge and Trout, I’ve heard. Defensively speaking, he was still okay. Not as good as usual but… on the offense, he was even worse. This was after his debut here in the US. One of the Braves’ best seasons to date. But that season…”

Jerry shakes his head.

“I mean, I get it. I probably wouldn’t walk away unscathed but… I don’t know.”

“It’s different in Japan,” you say quietly, handing his phone back. “They’re vigilant about keeping people safe. Here… nothing happens until it’s too late. Has it happened since?”

“No. Your incident was his second one.”

“They’re not the same, though. Behind the foul line… yeah, it should be netted. But out there in the outfield — that was on me.”

“He probably still feels bad, Tee. I mean… yours was bad. You got lucky. Really lucky.”

True. Headaches have increased in frequency and sometimes you’re still sensitive to the sun. But outside of that… you’ll be okay eventually.

You knew there might be some underlying guilt, but never enough for you to reconsider where you stand.

Is he humoring you because of that? Or because you are friends?

You hope it’s because you’re friends. If it’s that first one… you don’t know. What can you do?

You try to think of it from his perspective. If your places were reversed, you’d probably feel a little bit of guilt. But he’s more than made up for it — when he didn’t even have to. He had your forgiveness before you even woke up the day after. He always had it.

“He got better, though, right?”

“Well, he accepted a trade deal with the Padres after that season. Three years here. It ended this season.”

“What?”

“How do you not know that? You guys hang out constantly!”

“The finer points of the Major League Baseball trade do not dominate our conversations!”

He throws his head back and laughs. You grin, too, shaking your head as you glance back to the computer to make sure the next song is correct. It’ll start straightaway.

“Well, don’t worry about it. Your boyfriend —“

“He isn’t my boyfriend! Mouser!”

Jerry ignores you, smiling knowingly. “Your boyfriend accepted a five-year extension. $120 million.”

“You know, on that thought…”

Janelle Monáe’s Make Me Feel starts playing.

You two share a mischievous grin.

You keep on askin’ me the same questions And second-guessin’ all my intentions Should know by the way I use my compression That you’ve got the answers to my confessions

It’s like I’m powerful with a little bit of tender An emotional sexual bender Mess me up, yeah, but no one does it better There’s nothin’ better

That’s just the way you make me feel That’s just the way you make me feel So good, so good, so real

Look, it’s all in good fun, alright?

He isn’t your boyfriend. No way. Your relationship is better now, after those boundaries were tested and are steadily improving as he opens up to you about his life but…

It’s just not possible.

Even if he will be here for the next five years… and maybe more…

No. No. Not happening. It can’t.

It’s not like you’re swearing off the possibility completely but that just seems… out of this world.

Out of the realms of your world.

Yes, he’s horribly handsome and actually kind of funny in that snarky way of his, while also having rare bouts of sensitivity and sometimes your breath catches when you see his face in the sun and your heart does a funny little thing when he looks at you but it’s…

It’s nothing.

It was evening, and no longer summer. Three small fish, I don’t know what they were, huddled in the highest ripples as it came swimming in again, effortless, the whole body one gesture, one black sleeve that could fit easily around the bodies of three small fish.

Also I wanted to be able to love. And we all know how that one goes, don’t we?

#daiya no ace #ace of diamond #miyuki kazuya #daiya no ace x reader #ace of diamond x reader #miyuki kazuya x reader #moss writes

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catgrump · 1 year

Text

Sondham in a Theatre AU where Sonia is playing Heather Chandler and Gundham is the show’s makeup artist

🌻🌻🌻

Gundham was doing his best to control his breathing as he sat upright on a plush bench in the hallway backstage. “— beg in front of your boy toy here,” was heard over the PA system. Sonia will be backstage any moment.

He double checked his makeup arsenal to make sure he was fully prepared. He has the special effects stage makeup palette, clean brushes, and some eye makeup to smear on her face.

He’s done this routine before. All this week, he applied this makeup, getting notes from the director to make it bigger and more dramatic, but not so much that it looks fake in the front rows. Tonight, however, is the first night in front of an audience. Tonight, more than just the show’s team will see his work to make Heather Chandler look dead.

They truly cast the most beautiful girl in the acting department to play Heather Chandler. The role showcases her amazing acting prowess, as she has to be so cruel, when offstage, she is the human embodiment of kindness and elegance. “Corn nuts!” She exclaimed right before the music cue played. Heather Chandler has officially drank drain cleaner and died.

Gundham continues practicing his breathing, ignoring the other cast members hanging out in the hallway, while The Me Inside of Me begins. Sonia is going to come out once the song is over, and then it’s up to him to add a crucial detail to her appearance.

“Hi, Gundham,” Sonia whispered in case her mic was on.

“Hello, Sonia,” he did his best not to mumble as she sat down.

He also tried not to stare as she adjusted her costume. She wore a slinky red kimono robe over top matching red silk pajama shorts and a loose red silk top. It was hitting the curves of her body as she moved, and Gundham was fighting with all his might to not get distracted. Gundham cleared his throat as he dipped a brush into a pan of blue creme makeup. “How is the audience tonight?” He asked in a hushed tone, wishing to use his time to get to know Sonia better, if he could.

“Oh, they love it,” Sonia replied, her eyes lighting up, “Lots of laughs.”

“Excellent,” Gundham replied, “It is alright for me to touch your face, yes?”

“Of course,” Sonia smiled.

Gundham gently took his free hand, fingers softly feeling under Sonia’s chin, and started applying the blue creme to the corner of Sonia’s mouth.

Her lips are gorgeous, especially when they’re painted a glossy deep red. Gawking at them is going to get him nowhere, however. He dipped his brush back into the makeup, adding more blue to the inside of where he painted before.

Sonia giggled and her body trembled a bit in place, “It will always tickle,” she said.

“My apologies,” Gundham replied.

“It is not your fault,” Sonia said.

“I do wish to make the experience enjoyable for you,” he said as he shifted her face in his hand so he could better focus on Sonia’s eyes.

“Oh, this is plenty enjoyable,” she began, making her eyes look up to the ceiling, “I feel as though I am some sort of celebrity, getting this attention.”

Gundham smirked, his face turning red to match Sonia’s costume— and her lips, “You deserve the pampering.”

“Even though I am being made to look like a ‘hot mess’,” she giggled again.

“Still divine,” Gundham mindlessly said as he smudged makeup under Sonia’s eyes to make it look like makeup had been cried off.

“What was that?” Sonia perked up, trying not to move too much in Gundham’s gentle hold.

Gundham had a decision to make. He has limited time before Sonia needed to be back on stage, and his makeup application was almost complete. “I, um,” he turned his head away and cleared his throat again, “I said you still look divine.”

“Oh… my goodness, that is,” Sonia hoped the blush she applied would mask the heat creeping to her face, “That is lovely… thank you, Gundham.”

Gundham tenderly and slowly had his fingers trail a path under Sonia’s chin as he let go. “You always look divine.”

Sonia, heart tight in her chest, covered the microphone by her ear with one hand, then let her other hand rest on Gundham’s knee. She whispered as she got in close, “If we are being honest with each other, I have always thought you were rather handsome.”

She bounded up from her spot on the couch and darted off toward one of the stage doors, looking over her shoulder to wave goodbye before she had to be on stage again, leaving a speechless Gundham Tanaka behind her.

#danganronpa #my writing #my fics #my fanfic writing #Sondham #sondham fanfic #sondham fanfiction #sonia nevermind #gundham tanaka #danganronpa Theatre AU #danganronpa fanfiction #sdr2 #super danganronpa 2

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xehanortsreport · 1 year

Note

Heya! So, I'm not super familiar with Hypmic, but I figured I'd ask someone who's into it- What's the best place to start for getting into it? I'm only even half-certain of what it all is, tbh.

'Course!! So I'm still relatively new to the franchise myself so I'm definitely not going to be your be all and end all source for this. That said!

Basic plot synopsis:

It's a post-WW3 world and the warmongering government has been brought to heel by the power of all-women political organization known as the Party of Words, lead by the stoic Otome Tohoten. Using the newly developed Hypnosis Microphones, Otome demonstrates their devastating effects - less than lethal soul manipulation capable of torturing grown men into submission - on the Prime Minister, initiating a coup and bringing about the dawn of the H. Era. All lethal weaponry is banned and the only way to fight is with the power...of rap.

Establishing this new woman-led government, Otome further divides Japan into divisions, with Chuoku being the central seat of power where only women (and particularly women who work for the government) are allowed. Everyone else, including civilian women and all men are exiled to the outer divisions, where they must fight for control with the usage of the Microphones...and also it has to be via rap bc that's just where we're at.

At first, said Microphones are handed out willy-nilly, as all structure and government outside of Chuoku has been stricken to zero. Want a house? Rap for it. Need to defend your house from someone who wants to take it? Rap for it. Powerful individuals form gangs and eventually those gangs turn into organizations representing entire divisions. At the height of the consolidation of local divisions under the largest of the powers, Chuoku makes another announcement: rapping is no longer a free for all.

To ensure the safety of the public and to add order to chaos, Microphones are now only allowed to be used by those personally selected by the government. Moreover, the established divisions will now have a fixed set of representatives - a trio of rappers for each division. And lastly, these divisions must compete in the Division Rap Battle, a gladiatorial event in which the territories of each division are now officially decided by who wins and who loses.

The winner gets to take pieces of the other divisions' territories, expanding their power and influence, and also get a shitton of cash.

And thus begin the adventures of Hypnosis Mic!

Genrewise, I'd compare the tone to a delinquent manga with light sci-fi/fantasy elements. The plot is pretty thin and it's mostly just an excuse to serve up some really good characters and excellent music, which is what we're actually here for.

SO. WHERE TO START?

The CDs! THE primary format for HypMic and the base canon are the albums, as HypMic is first and foremost a music project. They are all free to listen to on Spotify!

It is very important to listen to the Drama Tracks, as those are your main story! On youtube, there is a playlist of all the Drama Tracks arranged in chronological order for easy listening, and all Drama Track translations can be found on the Wiki right here, also conveniently organized in chronological order.

Afterwards, if you're really interested in the characters and story, I recommend reading the manga! It does a great job fleshing out a lot of the aspects of each group, including important backstory information that isn't included in the tracks!

The manga is canon, so everything in it is relevant!

The events of the story are currently split into the First and Second Division Rap Battles. Ideally, you listen to the 1st DRB tracks, then read the manga that correspond to those (called "BB/MTC", "FP/M", "BAT/DH" and the important prequel manga "TDD". And yes that is what they're called those aren't just abbreviations lmao.)

Afterwards, listen to the remaining tracks and then read the rest of the manga! ("BB/MTC+", "FP/M+", "BAT/DH+", and a second prequel manga "DoD")

Don't worry as all the manga are relatively short and the drama CDs release very slowly. Once you catch up you'll stay caught up for a while, so take your time!

The anime, game, stage plays, etc. are all non-canon, so don't worry about those. You can enjoy them on your own free time if you get invested!

I've written a lot but the tl;dr is:

Listen to the CDs, read the Manga, then go wild on whatever else you want! And remember, the entire thing is very, very silly, so have fun!

#i know this is long but hopefully it is all legible #i do editing for a living so i sure hope it is...#long post #hypmic #lmk if it helps anon!

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piscespixiewastaken · 2 years

Text

Despair and Desperation

Masterlist, Previous > Next

STORY BELOW CUT

content warnings: eye trauma, nightmares, implied child abuse, sexual innuendos, violence, mentions of blood, panic attacks, kidnapping

Artemis’s cry cut through Foaly’s consciousness. The tremor in the Mud Boy’s voice only accentuated by the mic on his throat. Spiro’s leering face could be seen through the iris cam as he grabbed a sharp implement from a nearby table and rushed at the boy. There was a scream for help before Spiro raised the blade above Artemis’s head. Foaly could do nothing but watch in horror as the blade struck and the scream for help became a scream of pain.

Foaly jumped awake, chest heaving as his mind processed where he was. A dream, he realized. It was only a dream. But no matter how much he assured himself, it didn’t make the dream less terrifying.

His wife, Caballine stirred next to him.

“Foaly, what’s wrong?”

He couldn’t answer, just trying to get his breathing back under control, to clear his head from the horrid scream. Because no matter how much he assured himself, that scream had been real. He had seen Spiro stab Artemis in a fit of rage. The screams and the way all feed, visual and auditory, suddenly cut off had been haunting Foaly’s nightmares ever since.

Caballine sat up and rubbed her husband’s shoulders. “You did everything you could, dear. It’s not your fault.”

Foaly took a shuddering breath. “I could have. I could have snuck him help. Something. He’s dead because we couldn’t help him.” Even if the Mud Boy had been annoying and arrogant and a general pain in the ass, he’d been improving. He didn’t deserve to be abandoned. He didn’t deserve to die.

Caballine said nothing as she hugged Foaly close. It was a long time before either of them got back to sleep.

Spiro stared out at the skyline of Chicago. He had needed this. A break from the office, from the workplace drama that was inevitable in such a large corporation. So instead of spending his weekend in the penthouse, he’d taken the day with Blunt and gone out on Lake Michigan in a yacht. Well, not just with Blunt. A few local mafia members, including one Carla Frazzetti and her boss, also sat on the boat, enjoying the first sunny days of summer on the deck.

He raised a glass of water in greeting as one of the mafia bosses approached his chair. The rotund man laughed as he plopped a deck chair beside Spiro.

“This is the life, ain’t it?” the man stated. Marco Giuliano was not a man to hold back from life’s pleasures, immoral or otherwise. Something Spiro could respect despite his inability to partake in the more drink-oriented ones. Hence his glass of water instead of the martini that Marco held in his beefy hands.

“It is indeed. Now if only we could get away to Cuba or a proper coastline,” Spiro commented, smiling.

Marco laughed again. “If only, if only. Say, where is that little brat I keep hearing you have tucked away in your penthouse. I thought you might have brought him out. I could use some fun.”

Spiro tried not to let a sour look cross his face. He would need to keep a tighter check on the lips of his security and tech staff.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to there. We did have a new technician start up last month, young, fresh out of school. Maybe he’s the one you’re thinking of?”

Marco looked puzzled. “Could have sworn I heard different. But eh, work gossip is still gossip. This mean things are going well for you?”

Spiro’s smile returned with ease. “Absolutely. I can’t wait to stick it to Phonetix once they see what we release next.”

Marco grinned. “Well, just don’t be causing too much trouble. My buddy’s got connections there.”

Spiro took the hint. “Nothing that’ll put them under. Just something to show they have some upgrading to do if they want to stay in business.”

Marco nodded. “Excellent. Keep up the work for us, Jonny boy.”

He strolled away, glass still in hand as he grabbed the waist of an escort standing by the deck railing. At least Spiro thought it was her waist. He didn’t dwell on the thought. Carla however had some very choice words to say as she walked up beside him.

“Pig,” she muttered. Spiro raised an eyebrow in her direction.

“Didn’t think you were the judgmental type.”

She shrugged. “I had been looking at that one.”

Spiro glanced back at Marco and the young woman on his arm. “Ah, well, there’s plenty that’s been paid for.”

“And he’ll take them all at once if he could. Hence, he’s a pig.”

Spiro shrugged this time. “Fair enough. Need something?”

Carla did not sit down next to him. “I heard what you told Marco.” Her voice lowered so that only Spiro could hear her. “You kept him alive?”

Spiro nearly scoffed. “You expect me to kill a child in cold blood? When he’s much more profitable to me alive?”

“Profitable?” Carla’s voice betrayed a morbid curiosity.

“Of course! With a brain like his, I’ll be making bank on every patent possible. And if he ends up running out of use, his family has plenty of enemies who’d love a swing at him. Sell him off, profit regardless. I’ve already set up a way to destroy any evidence of his kidnapping as well. Nothing could point to him being under my possession.”

“He seemed rather stubborn and strong-willed by your description. It sounds like that’s changed,” Carla noted, her curiosity still piqued.

Spiro’s smile turned nasty, and for a brief moment, Carla felt a sense of pity for the Fowl boy. “Oh, it’s changed all right. He’s become an obedient little bitch, if you catch my meaning.”

Carla did catch his meaning. And her brief moment of pity for the young teen solidified. “I see,” she replied quietly.

Across the harbor in the tall, gleaming tower Spiro owned, a 14-year-old boy sat in the medical suite with the nurse. Two hulking guards stood outside, one of them with gritted teeth and clenched fists.

Chips watched as Pex’s knuckles turned white and thin bits of blood slowly dripped to the floor from his fists. He was angry. No, beyond angry, though Chips didn’t think he knew the right word for it. Whatever it was, it was bad and it was big. He heard the kid whimper from behind the door and then suddenly cry out. Pex immediately rushed to open the door. Chips peeked inside.

Artemis was shaking on the bed, clutching his head where his empty eye socket sat. Bloodstained wrappings lay around him from when the nurse changed the bandages on his eye and throat. Miss Scorzi made shushing noises to soothe the boy as he hunched forward. Chips heard a growl beside him as Pex stepped forward.

“What’d you do to him?” he demanded. Artemis flinched, looking up at the two men.

Miss Scorzi frowned at the significantly larger man now standing in her doorway. “Do not disturb my patient, Pex. He’s under enough stress already, and more sudden noises will only make this harder for both of us.

Pex wasn’t dissuaded. “Why’d he make that noise?”

Miss Scorzi stared the man down before sighing. “The bandage stuck to the wound a bit more than I expected, and it pulled at the skin. He’s fine, for now.”

Chips watched Pex look at Artemis and then back at the nurse. He growled again, this time in a different tone.

“I just… It was… It’s the same noise he made after Boss…” Pex stuttered. Chips felt like his body wanted to move down and inside of himself. It took him several minutes to realize that this feeling was sadness.

Miss Scorzi had a look on her face that seemed to match what Chips was feeling. She also looked back at the teenager on her medical bed. “I know. I wish the boss would do things differently. If Doctor Julio hadn’t been visiting that day….”

Artemis tensed, his breathing speeding up as his face went pale. Well, more pale than it was. Miss Scorzi rushed over to him, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” she said, gentle and firm. Chips also moved forward and placed a hand on the boy’s head.

Artemis slowly began to breathe more normally again. Chips was relieved. He didn’t know how to handle panic, especially with Pex here. He knew Pex would panic first anyways.

“You’re safe right now, kid.” Chips found his voice was so quiet, he almost couldn’t hear it. He realized he was angry too. “He can’t get you here.”

Artemis nodded. Miss Scorzi gave Chips a grateful look before gently rubbing the boy’s arm. “Let’s finish getting you patched up, okay? Then these two will take you back to your room. Spiro will be out for most of the day, and I’ll see if one of the other staff members can stall him before he comes to see you. Okay?”

It wouldn’t be much. Chips really hoped Boss came back in a good mood. He thought back to what Pex had mentioned a few months before. And he realized something. Chips realized he didn’t like Boss holding the kid here either. He had thought after a year, things would calm down. But they hadn’t. They’d gotten bad, real bad. Maybe someone needed to do something about that. He just didn’t know who.

Taglist: @artemis-fowl-angst

#artemis fowl #tw: child abuse #tw: blood #tw: eye injury #tw: kidnapping #whump #jon spiro #i’ve never written something like this before and oof #is this my thing now?#do I write whump now??#jon says no fairies au

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