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writing-with-olive · 4 years

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How to write essays fast

I've been writing a lot of papers, so that's what's on my mind.

So this mostly applies to your standard 5-paragraph paper, though it's fairly straightforward to adapt it to longer (or sometimes shorter) assignments.

One of the main things to note is that essays are VERY formulaic, so knowing the formula and being able to write down your ideas in a way that fit into the formula is probably the number one way to get stuff done fast. Because of that, most of what I’m covering is breaking down the formulas so they’re more accessable.

Also this got very long. If there’s anything you want me to expand on just let me know in the comments or send me an ask/DM and I’ll make another post that goes more in-depth about it.

Structure (I hate this step, so I’ve figured out how to do it very fast becuase it’s still important)

The first thing to consider is prewriting and structure. To start, there are two major paper structures I usually consider. The first goes

Introduction

Main point #1

Main point #2

Main point #3

Conclusion

This is good if you have a lot to say on the topic, or if it's something closer to a summary essay where there's not really an opposing side. In something where there are distinct sides, (or if you have less to say to support your own side), you may want something that looks like

Introduction

Main point #1

Main point #2

Why the other side is wrong

Conclusion

The "why the other side is wrong" side is involves thinking through the MOST credible arguments the other side might make, and methodically breaking them down to show how they don't work. The stronger the argument you choose, the more effective this is.

Since I personally hate prewriting with a passion, I usually do this step very fast and end up with an outline that looks like

Intro [insert thesis statement]

P1: [three word summary]

P2: [three word summary]

P3: [three word summary]

Conclusion

(thesis statement, introduction, body paragraphs, and conclusion tips are all below the cut)

Usually, this is enough so when I look at my outline, I can see what I'm trying to focus on for each paragraph - and do so without straying from my main point.

For the prewriting, the main things to do are identify with basic structure of the two will serve your purposes better, and write a thesis statement that solidly supports your argument.

Thesis Statement

There are so many guides about creating thesis statements that are powerful, but I'm just going to quickly go over how to be fast about it.

The first thing to know is that a thesis statement is usually a complex sentence: it's your entire essay distilled down to a single line. The general formula I follow goes something like this:

"In their [media type] [name of specific piece], [creator's full name] explored/demonstrated/other verb [theme you're going to be arguing about] demonstrated/using/as evidenced/as shown by [example 1], [example 2], and [optional example 3]."

For example, a thesis statement that follows this format might go

“In his short film Job at Place, David Davidson explored the manifestations of human stupidity through the absurdity of the main character’s home, school, and office.”

Or, if you're writing a historical piece, it might look something like this:

"In [place/time period], [thing you're arguing was happening]: they had to/the conditions were such that/other thing to set up a list [example 1], [example 2], and [example 3]."

For example, a thesis statement that follows this format might go

“During the Tusken Invasion of 32nd century Tatooine, it was the lives of the children that were most affected, from their social development and connections with others to more personal struggles they didn’t yet have the tools to overcome.”

The examples you give are going to correlate to your paragraphs - example 1 is for body paragraph 1, and so on.

Introduction

I like to think of the introduction as a funnel that gets more and more specific.

First, write a broad statement that touches on whatever theme you’re referencing.

Job at Place is about human stupidity, so something like “while great minds have flourished throughout the ages, so have the not-so-great.”

Tatooine is about war, and about child development, so something like “children’s development has always been impacted by the state of the world around them.” or “war has many effects, many of which impact those not directly involved with the conflict.”

The idea is that it’s a broad statement that can almost be looked at like a universal truth.

Next, you’re going to go deeper - two sentences that narrow down the time and place you’re talking about specifically, and how that time and place fit into your universal statement.

The fourth sentence gets even more specific - introducing how the thesis sentence fits into your first three sentences.

Then the last line is your thesis statements.

Body Paragraphs

Your three main body paragraphs all follow the same formula. (I’ll get to the “why the other side is wrong” paragraph in a minute)

The first sentence you’re going to want is a topic sentence. For this, you’re going to want to look at the example you gave in your thesis statement that corresponds to this paragraph, and see how it relates to your central claim.

If we’re going with the Job at Place example from above, for the second paragraph, you might open with a line like:

“A striking characteristic of Davidson’s short film was the abnormality of the main character’s school, used to showcase exactly what happens when poor decisions get taken too far.”

Everything within the paragraph will then back up the claim you’re making in the topic sentence (which in turn is backing up your thesis).

For each paragraph, you’re probably going to want about three pieces of evidence, either in the form of direct quotes (plucking words directly from the source) or paraphrased quotes (summarizing what happened in your own words). The quote should be used to directly support your argument.

After each piece of evidence, you’re going to want about... twoish lines of analysis (this number can change as you need it to, but two lines is something solid to fall back to).

While analysis can take all kinds of forms, one pattern you can use if you’re stuck is

evidence sentence

what it means

how that meaning ties back into your main point

Following this pattern, a piece of analysis of Job at Place might look like:

“One of the first images of the private school is that it’s a tall spire with creaking stairs and loose floorboards. Despite this, the principal has eight personal cars parked outside on full display. While the first glimpse of the school might indicate that there is little money to care for the structural integrity, the notion is directly negated by the principal’s actions. By using these two images, Davidson demonstrates what can happen to the youth when those in power let greed carry them away.”

After you write your analysis, include some kind of transition phrase, and go onto the next piece of evidence.

The last line of your paragraph is going to transition into the next paragraph while also summing up the main point of what you talked about in the current one. (This line can also get moved down and tacked onto the beginning of the next paragraph, before the topic sentence, but I have found it tends to look less cohesive that way).

You might choose something like:

“While the school was a disaster in its own right, it wasn’t the only example of human folly.”

If you’re writing a “this is why the other side is wrong” you’re going to want to think about the MOST compelling arguments the other side could make. Take the top one (or two), and figure out ways to crack them apart using evidence from your source material.

In this case, your topic sentence might start off with something like

“While opponents might say [insert compelling counterargument], their reasoning breaks down when one takes into account the evidence.”

At this point, you’re going to follow the same formula as above. The main thing to keep in mind is that for the duration of this paragraph, your point is that the other side’s claim of X is wrong.

Conclusion!

If you know what you’re doing, this is actually the easiest part.

(wait, what??????)

The thing is, you NEVER want to introduce new ideas into your conclusion. Instead, you’re summarizing your main points.

The formula I follow per sentence is:

Thesis statement but reworded (you can change the sentence structure too)

Topic sentence for paragraph 2 or 3, but reworded (I’ll explain why you shouldn’t do the sentence for P1 in just a sec)

Topic sentence for paragraph 1 or 3 but reworded

Topic sentence for paragraph 1 or 2 but reworded

Wow sentence or question (i’ll get to this too)

The idea for the middle three sentences is you don’t want them to read as repetitive, so you’re going to mix up the order so it doesn’t match the order of the rest of the essay. This will help to keep it fresh.

The wow sentence is basically the last impression you get to make. I find it’s usually a good idea to go just a tad dramatic (it sounds dumb, but it has never failed me). If I can’t think of anything, a declarative statement on whatever major theme was being discussed throughout the essay usually does the trick.

Examples:

All of this shows that in the absence of friendships and platonic love, humanity will falter.

Fiction may seem far fetched now, but if the world falls into those same mistakes, it’s only a matter of time until it becomes a reality.

Art has existed for as long as humans have populated the earth; it’s not going away any time soon.

A lesson everyone must understand is the most powerful weapon isn’t anything physical or tangeable: it’s the ideas that exist in the minds of those who care.

(I told you they were going to be dramatic) A way I look at it is if you can’t imagine dropping the mic on the last line, it needs to be stronger (yes I found that plagiarized with not even a whisper of credit on Pinterest, but it works).

If you wrote a SOLID essay, consider ending with a question aimed at the reader (this will push your essay in the direction of either the positive or negative extreme: a strong essay will become stronger, a weak essay will become weaker). Questions can be a call to action or rhetorical as a means to drive home your final point. Becuase they’re more nuanced to the content of the essay, I don’t really have great examples to give you though (sorry).

Hopefully this is useful to at least some of you - good luck!

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unpopularwiththepopulace · 3 years

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Don’t I Get a Dream for Myself ? – Bernadette Peters and the 'Gypsy' Saga

Gypsy. It’s perhaps the most daunting of all of the projects related to Bernadette Peters to try to grapple with and discuss. It’s also perhaps the most significant.

For someone notoriously guarded of her privacy and personal life, careful with her words, and selective of the questions she answers, the narrative around this show provides some of the most meaningful insights it is possible to derive in relation to Bernadette herself. The show’s ability to do this is unique, through the way it eerily parallels her own life and spans a large range in time from both Bernadette Peters the Broadway Legend, right back to where it all began with Bernadette Lazzara, the young Italian girl put into showbusiness by her mother.

The most logical place to start is at the very beginning – it is a very good place to start, after all.

(Though no one tell Gypsy this, if the fierce two-way battle with The Sound of Music at the 1960 Tony Awards is anything to be remembered. Anyway, I digress…)

Gypsy: A Musical Fable with music by Jule Styne, lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, and book by Arthur Laurents, burst into the world and onto the New York stage in May of 1959. After closing on Broadway in March 1961, Ethel Merman as the world’s original Mama Rose herself led the first national tour off almost immediately around the country. Just a few months later, a second national touring company was formed, starring Mitzi Green and then Mary McCarty as Rose, to cover more cities than the original. It is here that Bernadette comes in.

A 13-year-old Bernadette Peters found herself part of this show in her “first professional” on-the-road production, travelling across the country with her older sister, “Donna (who was also in the show), and their mother (who wasn’t)”.

The tour played through cities like Philadelphia, Chicago, New Haven, Baltimore and Las Vegas before closing in Ohio in 1962. Somewhat uncannily, its September 1961 opening night in Detroit’s Schubert Theatre even returns matters full circle to the 2003 revival and New York’s own Schubert Theatre.

Indeed this bus-and-truck tour was somewhat of a turning point for Bernadette. She’d later remember, “I mostly thought of performing as a hobby until I went on the road with Gypsy”.

But while this production seminally marked a notable moment for the young actress as well as the point where her long and consequential involvement with Gypsy begins, it’s important to recognise she was very much not yet the star of the show and then only a small part of a larger whole.

Bernadette was with the troupe as a member of the ensemble. She took on different positions in the company through the period of nearly a year that the show ran for, including billing as ‘Thelma’ (one of the Hollywood Blondes), ‘Hawaiian Girl’, and additional understudy credits for Agnes and Dainty June.

The above photo shows Bernadette (left) with another member of the ensemble (Sharon McCartin) backstage at the Chicago Opera House as one of the stops along the tour. Her comment on the stage of the Chicago theatre – “I’d never seen anything so big in my life!” – undeniably conveys how her experiences were new and appreciably daunting.

Along the tour, she assumed centre-stage once or twice as the understudy for Dainty June, but playing the young star was not her main role. Unlike what more dominant memory of the story seems to purport.

Main credits of June went instead to Susie Martin – a name and a tale of truth-bending that’s now well-known from Bernadette’s concert anecdotes. While performing her solo shows as an adult and singing from Gypsy, Bernadette has often been known to take a moment to penitently atone for historical indiscretions of identity theft or erasure where her mother long ago conveniently left out the “understudy” descriptive when putting down Dainty June on her resumé, in an effort to add weight to the teenager’s list of credits.

Whatever happened to Susie Martin? – many have wondered. Well, she soon left the theatre. But not before appearing in two more regional productions of Gypsy and a 1963 Off-Broadway revival of Best Foot Forward with Liza Minnelli and Christopher Walken.

Bernadette too went on to other regional productions of Gypsy. She spent the summer of 1962 in various summer stock stagings with The Kenley Players, like in Pennsylvania and Ohio, and this time she did indeed get to play June.

Above shows photos from different programmes for these productions. While some may have featured odd forms of photo editing, they at least also bring to attention Rose here being played by none other than Betty Hutton.

The two women couldn’t have been in more different positions when they coalesced in these rough-around-the-edges, small-scale productions. A young Bernadette was broaching summer stock in starting to take on bigger roles in the ascendency to her bright and long career. Meanwhile, Betty found herself there while navigating the descent that followed her sharp but fickle rise to Hollywood fame in the ‘40s and early ‘50s. Top billing Monday, Tuesday you really are touring in stock after all.

While details aren’t plentiful for these productions, it was recounted Betty apparently struggled in performing the role. And understandably so. Following the recent traumatic death of her mother in a house fire, and the birth of her third child shortly before the shows began, it’s not hard to see why her mind might have been elsewhere. Still, she was apparently impressed enough by the younger actress who turned in one of the show’s “creditable performances” to make comment that she would’ve liked Bernadette to play her if a movie were made about her life.

Bernadette might not have done this exactly, but she did go on to revitalise Betty’s best-known movie role, when stepping into Annie Oakley’s shoes in the 1999 Annie Get Your Gun revival. With Bernadette’s first Ethel Merman show under her belt, the ball was soon rolling on her second.

The 2003 production of Gypsy was imminently beckoning as her next successive Broadway musical and it was Arthur Laurents who lit the match to spark Bernadette’s involvement. Laurents, as the show’s original librettist, drove the revival by saying he “didn’t want to see the same Rose” he’d seen before. Going back to June Havoc’s description of her mother as “small” and a “mankiller”, and Arthur’s take that Bernadette sung the part “with more nuance for the lyrics and the character than the others”, the choice of Bernadette was justified. Moreover, “Laurents – whose idea it was to hire her – [said] going against type is exactly the point,” and Sam Mendes, as director, qualified “the tradition of battle axes in that role has been explored”.

So Bernadette also had her own baseline of innate physical similarity to the original Rose Hovick, in addition to her own first-hand memories of the women she’d acted alongside as Rose in her youth to bring into her characterisation of the infamous stage mother.

But there was a third factor beyond those as well to be considered in the personal material she had access to draw from for her characterisation. Namely, her own real life stage mother.

Marguerite Lazzara did share traits with the character of Rose. She too helped herself to silverware from restaurants, and put her daughters in showbusiness for the vicarious thrill. Marguerite had “always wanted to become an actress herself”, but had long been denied her desire by her own mother, who likened actresses to being as “close to a whore as you could be without, you know, getting on your back”.

In that case, to “escape a housewife’s dreary fate in Ozone Park”, Marguerite channelled her latent dream through her pair of young daughters instead, shepherding them out along the road. Thus was produced a trio of the two children ushered around the theatre circuit by the driven mother, forming an undeniable parallelism and a mirror image of both Bernadette’s reality and Gypsy’s core itself. Bernadette didn’t see some of these familial parallels at the time when she was a child, considering “maybe I didn’t want to see” – “didn’t want to see a mother doing that to her daughter”.

It was coming back to the show as an adult that helped Bernadette resolve who her mother was and some of the motivations that had propelled her when Bernadette was still a child. She realised, “I think she thought she was going to die very young”, as her own father died young. So “she was rushing around to get as much of her life as she could in there”.

When she herself returned to the production in playing Rose, Bernadette conceded to sometimes bringing elements of her mother and her driven energy into her portrayal, and admitted too she looked “like her a lot in the role”. You can assess any familial resemblances for yourself, from the images below that show a young Marguerite next to Bernadette in costume as Rose, and then with the pair backstage in 1961 in a dressing room on the tour.

Marguerite was ambitious. From her own personal position and with the restrictions imposed upon her, it was ambition that materialised through her children. Irrevocably, she altered them. She placed Bernadette on TV as a very young child (“I was four when my mother put me in the business”); changed her daughter’s surname (“She told me my real name was too long for the marquees,” or really – “too Italian”); doctored her resumé (“Somehow the word ‘understudy’ vanished. ‘No one will know,’ said Marguerite”); and lightened her hair (“She’d say, ‘Oh, I’m just putting a little conditioner on it.’ But slowly my hair got blonder and blonder!”). All in the hope of giving her child a more favourable chance at the life she’d always wanted for herself.

On paper, a classic stage mother. “When I was a kid, she fulfilled herself through me,” Bernadette would say. “She put me into show business so she could get a taste of the life herself.”

But it’s important to consider Bernadette often qualifies that her mother wasn’t as brutal as Rose, nor was she herself as traumatised as June.

Bernadette didn’t begrudge her mother for her choices – at least by the time she was an adult, she’d rationalised them, explaining “naturally it was more exciting [for her] to go on the road with me than staying home and keeping house”.

As a child, Bernadette hadn’t necessarily wanted to be on stage, but there was a sense of ambivalence – not resentful belligerence – as she “didn’t care one way or the other” when she found herself there.

Like June, Bernadette may have been entered into and coaxed around a path she hadn’t voluntarily chosen. But unlike June, Bernadette had a deal with her mother that “she had only to say the word”, and she could leave.

Most crucially, she never did.

But that’s not to say Bernadette was enamoured with acting from the beginning.

She seemed to feel ‘outside’ of that world and those in it. And others saw it too.

It was in 1961 in Gypsy that Bernadette first met Marvin Laird – her long-time accompanist, conductor and arranger. The way he put it, he “noticed this one young girl, very close with her mother” who, during breaks, “didn’t mix much with the other girls”.

Beneath the effervescent stage persona, there’s a quieter and more reserved reality, and a sense of separation and solitary division.

When asked by Jesse Green in 2003 for the extensive profile in The New York Times if she thought her experiences on the road in Gypsy were good for her at that age, she gives a curious, somewhat abstract, predominantly dark, potentially macabre, response. He wrote:

She doesn’t answer at first but seems to scan an image bank just behind her eyes for something to lock onto. Eventually she comes out with a seeming non sequitur. “I didn’t know how to swim. I remember, in Las Vegas, I fell in, once, and they thought I was flailing, but I felt like: ‘It’s pretty down here!’ I might have been dying and I was thinking: ‘Look at the pretty color!’ And suddenly my fear of water was gone, and I could have stayed in forever.” After a while, I realize she’s answered my question. Then she dismisses the image: “But I had to get my hair dry for the show that day, so up I came.”

I’m still not entirely sure I know what she’s trying to convey here. My interpretation of this anecdote changes as I have re-visited and re-examined it on multiple occasions at different time points. It’s arguably multiply polysemic.

Was she simply swept up in a moment of childlike distraction, lost in the temporary respite alone away from the usual noise and clamour? Was she indicating comprehension that her feelings and perspectives came secondary to any practical necessities and inevitable responsibilities? Was she using the water to depict a muffling and fishbowl-like detachment from others her age who got to live more ‘ordinary’ lives in the ‘normal’ world above that she felt separate from? Was she referencing the pretty colours she saw as a metaphor for show business and how she became bewitched by them even despite potential dangers? Was she trying to legitimately drown herself, or at least exhibiting an ambivalence again as to whether she lived or died, because of what the highly pressurised demands on her felt like?

The underlying sentiment through her response in answer to Green’s primary question was that, in essence – no. Being a child actor was not “over all, a good experience for a youngster”.

Acting might have been something she fell in love with over time, but not all at once, not right from the beginning, and not without noting its perils.

It was a matter of accidental circumstance that landed Bernadette in the show business world to begin with at such a young age in the first place – “I just found myself here,” she would offer.

Her mother, who was “always crazy about the stage”, “insisted” that her sister, Donna take lessons in singing, dancing and acting.

A further point of interest to note is that, although it was Bernadette with her new surname who would grow up to be the famous actress, look to the cast lists from the 1961 touring production of Gypsy that featured both sisters in the company (see photo below) and you’ll find no ‘Lazzara’ in sight. Donna too, appearing under the novel moniker of “Donna Forbes”, had also already become stagified (nay, ethnically neutralised?) by her mother. As such it is clearly demonstrated that Marguerite’s intention at that point was to make stars of both her daughters. Correspondingly so, when her sister returned from her performance lessons some years before, “Donna would come home and teach me what she had learned,” Bernadette remembered. She may have gotten her “training second hand”, but the key element was that she got it.

For Bernadette, it was a short jump from emulating magpied tricks from her sister as well as routines from Golden Age Busby Berkeley musicals on the ‘Million Dollar Movie’ in front of the TV screen, to her mother getting her on the other side of the screen and actually performing on TV itself – belting out Sophie Tucker impressions aged five for all the nation to see.

The photos below show Bernadette in performative situations at a young age (look for criss-crossed laces in the second for identification).

“At first, as a toddler, Bernadette enjoyed performing; it came naturally, a form of play that people inexplicably liked to watch.” It was “just a hobby” and she “wanted to do it”.

But while she may not have detested it, she didn’t entirely comprehend what was going on either. “I didn’t even know I was on TV,” she said. “I didn’t know that those big gadgets pointed at me were cameras and that they had anything to do with what people saw on the television set.”

When she started gaining more of an awareness of how “such play [was being] co-opted for commercial purposes”, she grew less enthralled. “She didn’t care for the bizarre children, accompanied by desperate mothers, she began to see at auditions: ‘They spent their whole time smiling for no reason, you know?’”

Being a child who had become sentient of being a child performer began to grow wearisome and grating to the young girl who had her equity card, a professional (and strange, new) stage name, and an increasingly long list of expectations by the time she was nine. There’s a keen sense she did not enjoy being in such a position: “I wouldn’t want to be a child again. When you’re a child, you have thoughts, but nobody listens to you. Nobody has any respect for you”.

Gypsy did indeed mark a turning point for Bernadette as mentioned above – but not just in the way that seems obvious. Looking back at it now, it does appear the monumental turning point at which she started appearing in significant and reputable productions, beginning what would be the foundation to her ‘professional’ career. However it was also the turning point after which she nearly quit the business altogether.

When she returned from performing in Gypsy, Bernadette felt like she’d had enough. One way of putting it was that she “then retired from the business to attend high school”, wanting to have some semblance of a normal scholastic experience “without the interruptions”. But whatever dissatisfaction she was feeling as an early adolescent on stage, she didn’t resolve at school – going as far as saying that while at Quintano’s School for Young Professionals, “she was in pain”.

“When you’re a teenager you’re too aware of yourself,” she recalled. Being a teen and trying to come to terms with of the expectation of the ‘60s that “you are supposed to look like Twiggy, and you don’t, you feel everything is wrong about you”. Everything “was all about tall, skinny, no chest…[and] hair straight”. Little Bernadette with her “mass of [curly] hair and distracting bosom”, as Alex Witchel put it, was never going to fit that mould. “That was not me,” she stated. “At all.”

Her self-consciousness grew to the point that it became overwhelming and asphyxiating. “I was trying desperately to blend in and be normal, but that doesn’t allow creativity to come out,” Bernadette said. “I knew I was acting terrible. The words were sticking in my mouth and all I could think about was how I looked”. It was hard enough just to look at herself (“I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror”), let alone to have other people gawk at her on stage. So she stopped trying. She “didn’t work much from age 13 to 17” in the slightest. Bernadette would later reflect in 1981 in an atypically open and vulnerable interview, “I was very insecure. Insecurity is poison. It’s like wearing chains”.

It was a combination of factors that helped her overcome these feelings of such toxic and weighty burden to draw her back into the public world of performing and the stage. “The two people who helped her most, she says, were David LeGrant, her first acting teacher, and her vocal coach, Jim Gregory.” Jim helped with “[opening] a whole creative world for [her] with singing”; and it was David who’d give her the now infamous and often (mis)quoted line about individuality and being yourself.

Having these kinds of lessons, she reasoned, was “really a wonderful emotional outlet for a kid of 17”. The process of it all was beneficial for her therapeutically – “you have a lot of emotions at that time in your life, and it was great to go to an acting class and use them up”. And Bernadette felt freer on stage than she did out on her own in the ‘real world’, saying “[up there] I don’t have to worry about what I’m doing or saying because I’m doing and saying what I’m supposed to be doing and saying”.

Finally then and with considerable bolstering and support, she grew comfortable with the notion of being visible on stage and in public, and realised she was never going to blend in as part of the chorus so it was simply better to let go of such a futile pursuit.

David LeGrant’s guiding advice to Bernadette (“You’ve got to be original, because if you’re like everyone else, what do they need you for?”) wasn’t just a trite aphorism. For her, it was a life raft. It was the key mental framing device that allowed her to comprehend for the first time that she might actually have intrinsic value as herself. And that it was imperative she let herself use it.

She had always stuck out, yes, but she had to learn how to want to be seen – talking of it as a conscious “choice” she had to make when realising she did “have something to offer”.

Thus soon after Bernadette graduated, she stepped back into productions like in summer stock and then Off-Broadway as she made her debut at that next theatrical level at 18. It wasn’t long before she was discovered in what’s seen as her big break in the unexpected smash hit, Dames at Sea. And so Bernadette Peters, the actress, was back. And she was back with impact and force.

Besides, as she’s also said, she couldn’t do anything else – “if I ever had to do something else to earn a living, I’d be at a total loss”. An aptitude test as a teenager told her so apparently, when she “got minus zero in everything except Theater Arts”. So that was that. Her answer for what she would’ve done if she’d never found acting is both paradoxically exultant and macabre – “I don’t know, probably shot myself!”

Flippant? Maybe. Trivial? No.

Acting is thus undoubtedly related highly to Bernadette’s sense of purpose and self-worth. This is what makes it even more apparent that a show with such personal and historical connections for her, as in Gypsy, was going to be so consequential and impactful to be a part of again as an adult and perform on a public stage.

She’s called inhabiting the role of Rose in the 2003 revival many things: “deeply personal”, “life changing”, “like going through therapy” – to name a few.

In interviews regarding Gypsy and playing the main character, when asked what she had learnt, Bernadette would frequently say something like, “It taught me a lot”. Pressed further about specifics, her answers often hem close to vague platitudes as she maintains her normal tendency of endeavouring to keep her privacy close to her chest.

On one occasion, she actually elaborated somewhat on what she’d learnt, giving a fuller answer than the question is normally afforded anyhow. Beyond all it revealed to her about her mother, she extended to admitting “my capacity for love and my capacity for anger” as aspects in her that the show had permanently altered. Moreover, Rose to her was undoubtedly the “most rewarding and fulfilling acting experience” she had ever had.

But while such deep, personal and emotional depths and memories were being stirred up beneath the surface in private, she was getting vilified in public singularly and repeatedly by New York Post columnist, Michael Riedel.

Even before she’d set foot on stage, Riedel set forth in motion early in the 2003 season a campaign of vocal and opinionated defamation against Bernadette as Rose that she was miscast, insufficiently talented, and would be incapable of executing the role.

Too small, too delicate, too weak, too many curves (and too much knowledge of how to use them). Not bold enough, not loud enough – not Merman enough. Chatter and speculative dissent begun to grow in and around the Broadway theatres.

For such a prestigious and historic musical theatre role, it was always going to be hard to erase the large shadow of an original Merman mould. Ethel was woven into the very fabric of the show, with the rights to Gypsy Rose Lee’s memoirs being obtained at her behest in the first place, and the idiosyncrasies of her voice having been written into the songs themselves by their very authors.

To step out from such a domineering legacy would be a marked challenge at the best of times. Let alone when battling a respiratory infection.

Matters of public perception were certainly not helped when Bernadette then got ill as the show started its preview period and she started missing early performances.

Nor did it help with critical perception that the Tony voting period coincided so synchronously with Gypsy’s first opening months – giving Bernadette no time to recover, find her feet, and settle more healthily into the show for the rest of the run before the all important decisions were made by that omnipotent committee.

The tale of her illness is actually undercut by a more innocent and unsuspecting origin than you’d expect from all the drama and trouble it engendered. Bernadette decided nearing the show’s opening to treat herself to a manicure. In the salon, she was next to a woman very close to her with a frightful sounding cough. Who could’ve known then that this anonymous and inconspicuous lady through a fateful cause-and-event chain would go on to play such a part in what is among the biggest and most enduring Tony Awards “She was robbed!” discourses? Or even more broadly – in also arguably playing a hand in the closure and financial failure of an $8.5 million Broadway show after its disappointing performance at the Tony Awards that ominously “[spelled] trouble at the box office” and led to its premature demise?

Bernadette did not win the Best Actress in a Musical Tony that night on June 6th 2004. The award went instead (not un-controversially) to newcomer Marissa Jaret Winokur for Hairspray.

She did however give one of the most indelibly resonant and frequently re-referenced solo performances at the awards show just before she lost – defying detractors to comprehend how she could be unworthy of the accolade with a rendition of ‘Rose’s Turn’ that has apocryphally earned one of the longest standing ovations seen after such a performance even to date.

Even further and even more apocryphally, she reportedly did so while still under the weather as legend as circulated by musical theatre fans goes – performing “against doctor’s orders” with stories that have her being “afflicted with anything from a 103-degree fever, to pneumonia, to a collapsed lung”.

Seeing then as unfortunately there is no Tony Award speech to draw on here, matter shall be retrieved fittingly from that which she gave just a few years earlier in 1999 for her first win and previous Ethel Merman role in Annie Get Your Gun to wrap all of this together.

As has been illustrated, there are many arguably scary or alarming aspects in Bernadette’s Gypsy narrative. There’s undeniably much darkness and an ardent clamouring for meaning and self-realisation along the road that tracks her journey parallel to the show. But unlike Rose’s hopeless decries of “Why did I do it?” and “What did it get me?”, there was a point for Bernadette.

As her emotional tribute in 1999 went: “I want to thank my mother, who 48 years ago put me in showbusiness. And I want to finally, officially, say to her – thank you. For giving me this wonderful experience and this journey.”

Whatever all of this was, maybe it was worth it after all.

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totallynormalfanficauthor · 3 years

Text

The sound of the skeletal rooster crowing at the top of it’s nonexistent lungs was nothing new to Jack Skellington. It was the same sound he heard every morning- not that he cared. It woke him up just fine, so who was he to complain?

Jack turned over in his bed. He yawned and opened his sockets a tiny bit, waiting for his vision to adjust to the golden light of the pumpkin sun that was beginning to stream in from a nearby window. The first thing he laid eyes on was the beautiful river of red hair lying next to him. Sally was still asleep, resting on her side with her arms folded neatly in front of her. Her back was facing Jack, but he could hear her snoring softly. A�� warm smile came across his skull, and he sighed contently.

It had only been a month or so since the two of them were married, and Jack still found himself getting used to waking up with someone else in his bed. But he loved Sally with every ounce of his phantom heart; and wouldn’t have it any other way. Carefully, without disturbing her, Jack scooted closer and moved a piece of hair away from her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her gently, pressing his lips to the stitches that fell neatly under her eye. She stirred, but didn’t wake.

He sat up, stretched his back, and decided now would be the best time to get up. Jack crawled out from under the blanket and finally to his feet. Yawning one last time, he headed straight for the closet, ready to get dressed and start his day.

Jack cracked the egg into the pan, listening as it sizzled. After getting dressed and coming downstairs, he decided to make breakfast awhile. He wasn’t sure if Sally would be up before he had to leave, but, he always made enough for two just in case. At the very least, she could reheat it later. Or not- rotten eggs and toast were just as good cold.

As he prepared their plates, his mind wandered around as it always does. He thought about Sally.. how beautiful, and sweet she was. Jack could still hardly believe they were finally.. well, together together. He glanced down at his wedding ring, smiling to himself.

A slight creek of the floorboards caught his attention. He glanced up, half expecting to see nothing, but to his delight was instead greeted by the image of Sally standing in the doorway. She was still wearing her nightgown, which was white in color and very light. It was made out of a smooth, silky material and fell just a little ways past her hips. She smiled at him.

“..I thought I heard you get up.”

“Sally.” Jack smiled back. “Horrible morning, my love. Did you sleep well?”

“Just terribly, thank you. And you as well I trust?”

“As always.” Jack tilted his skull, keeping his gaze on his wife as he sliced their bread. “I apologize if I woke you..”

“Oh, no.” Sally shook her head, and finally made her way over to him. “I was already awake, I just heard the door close.”

“Oh, right. Well..” Jack leaned over and gave her a small peck on the cheek before motioning towards the stove. “I’m glad you’re awake, the eggs are almost ready. I hope that’s alright for this morning?”

Sally inhaled deeply. “They smell divine, Jack, thank you. It’ll do just fine but...you didn’t have to, really, I could’ve made something for myself”

“Nonsense, I’m happy to cook for you. Unless.. of course, you really wanted to? If that’s the case, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Jack” Sally reached up to cup his face. He fell silent at the gesture. “It’s okay, dearest. It's not a big deal who cooks for who. I appreciate you thinking of me” she patted the side of his face gently. “How about, if I cook dinner, then we’ll call it even?”

The skeleton chucked, “Deal.” And kissed her once more before reaching over and sliding the rotten eggs onto their plates one by one.

After the couple finished up their breakfast, Jack washed the dishes and decided it was probably a good time to get ready to head into town soon. He was about to go back towards his bedroom to get his shoes when Sally called him into their living room. She spoke to him as he entered.

“Jack, Could I make something…” she pointed downward to the little ghost sleeping at her feet. “…for Zero?”

He smiled at the thought. “Like what?”

“I’m thinking…” she tapped her chin. “A scarf?”

Jack walked over and sat down on the couch next to her. He reached for her hand, squeezing it. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Sal.”

“Do you? Good.” She squeezed his hand back and leaned close, so their noses were almost touching. “I hoped you’d think so..”

Her sudden closeness caught him a little off guard, but Jack took the hint. “Of course..” he leaned forward and closed the gap between them, a bit relieved to have access to her lips this time. Sally kissed back and wrapped her arms around his neck, practically melting into him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist in response, enjoying this moment immensely. They probably would have continued, had a jarring noise not suddenly cut through the air.

Brrriiiing

The phone. It rang loudly, and startled both of them. Jack pulled away and looked in its direction.

“Probably the mayor…” his tone sounded slightly annoyed. He turned to Sally. “- I should get that.”

“Of course, go ahead.”

The king stood up and walked to the opposite side of the room where the phone was hanging on the wall. He hesitated, cleared his throat, then picked it up.

“Skellington residence. Jack speaki-”

“Jack!!” the mayor's voice rang from the other side. “Thank HALLOWEEN you answered! Where are you?”

“Ah, horrible morning, Mayor. Still at home of course-“

“There are things that need to be done, Jack!! Halloween is only 96 days away! Why aren’t you here yet, it’s not like you to be late!”

If Jack had eyes, he’d be rolling them. “I’d hardly call it late..”

“It’s late by YOUR standards! You’re usually in town by now, what’s holding you?”

“Er…” Jack glanced over at Sally, who was still sitting on the couch petting zero. “…I don’t know, nothing I suppose. We just finished eating, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Huff… alright. Terrible morning Jack, I’ll see you soon.”

The skeleton hung up the phone and sighed. Typical mayor, never letting him get an ounce of alone time.

Sally stood off the couch and walked over. “I take it you’re leaving now?”

“I’m afraid I must. I apologize.”

“It’s quite alright love, you have important things to take care of. I still need to get dressed, anyways” she brushed off her nightgown and stood on her tiptoes to give him one last kiss on the cheek. “…I’ll try to come visit you in town later, how about it?”

Jack nodded. “I would love that, thank you.” He glanced at the clock. “-I must be off. I’ll see you soon, Sal” he opened his arms and Sally came forward into his embrace. Her voice was muffled.

“See you soon, Jack. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It seemed to be a fairly average day in town. As Jack walked the streets he greeted people on the side like he always does, everyone happy to see him as usual. He was able to get to the town square in a reasonable amount of time, which was good, because the mayor was already there waiting for him. A small stack of papers were piled in his tiny hands.

“Jack!! There you are!” He called out to him as he approached. “Horrible to see you, you almost scared me half to life when you weren’t here!”

Jack sighed. The Mayor can be so dramatic sometimes. “Horrible to see you as well, Mr. Mayor. Shall we get started for the day?”

“Ah, yes! Of course”, the shorter man cleared his throat and lifted the papers up to his face. “Firstly, we need to check in with all those who agreed to carve the pumpkins this year, to see how that’s progressing. You have a meeting with the vampires around 9:30… oh! And there are some documents in your office you’re going to need to have signed by tomorrow”

Jack nodded as he listened. “Very well, that all sounds… manageable. I suppose we should get started.”

“Yes! Let's not waste any more time” The mayor tucked the papers under his arm and scurried off in another direction. Jack folded his hands behind his back, and reluctantly followed.

Jack Skellington found himself to be more tired than he thought he was. Or, maybe he was just bored. Or perhaps, a bit distracted. Maybe a little of all three.

Most of his morning consisted of meeting with people. Checking in on the pumpkin carving, the training of the bats, etc etc. He was almost relieved when it came time to finally head back to his office to sign those documents the mayor spoke of. Typically the same ones each year, so Jack didn’t mind.

The skeleton was sat at his desk, writing away with his quill. He tapped his foot lightly and hummed to himself. He was almost through all the papers, when there was a knock at the door. He looked up.

“Come in.”

The doorknob turned slowly and the door opened. Jack sat up straight and smiled upon seeing who his visitor was.

“Hello there, Sally.”

“Hello, Jack.” Sally walked over to him happily, hands placed behind her back. “...I came to see you, just like I said.”

“So you have” the skeleton chuckled and stood from his seat, coming around to meet her on the other side of the desk.

“How was your morning?” She asked him.

“Relatively normal, the meetings ran smoothly. The vampires seem happy with their new role. How about you?”

“Very good, thank you. I’ve already designed out a plan for Zero’s scarf- I think I’m going to head across town to buy some fabric for it after lunch.” She moved her head forward and leaned against her husband, taking his hand. “...I missed you, you know..”

“Awe, it’s only been a couple hours” he squeezed her hand back, “..I missed you as well. I felt bad leaving you so suddenly this morning.”

“It’s nothing to feel bad about, dearest. You have important… kingly duties that need attending too.”

“Yes, but” Jack straightened his back to face her, brushing a piece of her hair to the side and cupping her cheek lovingly. “...Nothing is more important to me than you are.”

Sally blushed a bit. “Well… I’m here now.”

He chuckled again, “True. And in that case..” Jack brushed his thumb along the side of her lip, and wrapped his free hand around her waist. “May I?”

“Of course..”

With both their eyes closed, they leaned in. Their lips barely brushed together when a loud bang was heard and the door suddenly swung open.

“Jack!” the Mayor shouted as he strutted into the room, “Some of the ghosts have requested a meeting with you for this afternoon! Did you finish signing the-” he halted suddenly, noticing the image of the king and queen in front of him. “-papers….”

Jack and Sally jolted away from each other, embarrassed. It would be one thing if they were in a private area, but technically Jack was supposed to be working right now. He let go of Sally and stared blankly at the mayor. It was quiet for a second, before the short politician spoke again.

“Is this… a bad time..?”

“No..” snapping out of it, the skeleton cleared his throat and shook his head. “-No! No, no, it’s alright. What is it that you need, Mayor?”

“Well… ahem.” he adjusted his papers, “-I was just coming to check if you were finished! Like I said, the ghosts have a matter in which they wish to speak with you about, they were hoping for this afternoon.”

“I see..” Jack glanced at Sally- who was staring at the ground- before walking back around the desk to check his meeting schedule. “...I should have enough time to fit something in. Let them know I’ll come find them as soon as I can.”

“Will do! How are the documents coming along?”

“Just fine, I’m almost finished.”

“Right, well… try to get done as quickly as possible! Remember there’s a lot to do today. I’ll check back in soon!” As he turned to leave again, he realized he hadn’t even acknowledged Sally. Not wanting to be rude, he tipped his hat to her awkwardly. “-horrible morning, Mrs. Skellington.”

She forced a smile and waved. “Morning..”

With one last nod, the Mayor turned and walked out the door. It shut with a very satisfying click.

“Call me crazy, but...” Jack sat down in his chair. “...I don’t think we seem to be having very good luck today.”

“Well, that was certainly.. something.” She laughed nervously. “Doesn’t seem that way, does it? I should probably get going.”

“Awe, so soon?” He teased. Sally rolled her eyes.

“Nice try, Mr. Skellington. You’ve got documents to finish.” She thought for a moment. “How about.. If we meet up for lunch instead?”

“Horrific idea! I’ll come find you in… an hour maybe? How about it?”

Sally smiled, heading towards the door. “Sounds good, my love. I’ll see you soon.”

“You as well…” She blew Jack a kiss before finally departing.

The skeleton sighed, slightly frustrated about being interrupted again, and annoyed that he’s back to work when he knows he’d much rather be spending time with his wife. Just one day… that's all he’d ask for. But.. he’ll get to see her again soon. Just knowing that she’ll be waiting to have lunch with him was enough to brighten his mood back up a bit. Picking up his quill, he dipped it in ink, and continued right where he left off.

“This was a great idea, Sal.” Jack smiled at her as they walked along the side of the street, hand in hand. The restaurant they were going to eat at was just a few buildings away. “It feels like it's been ages since we’ve eaten out like this.”

“Oh, I agree” The ragdoll fluttered her eyelashes. “-And the nicest part is, we can spend more time together. I know we usually eat lunch just the two of us, but, It does feel like you’ve been rather busy as of late..”

“Ah, yes. Once we hit less than 100 days until Halloween.. My schedule can get pretty crowded.” He squeezed her hand, “-but you know I’ll always make time for you, just say the word, day or night.” Sally giggled.

“I know… but I do hate to bother you when you’re busy.”

“I’ll never be too busy for you, Sally” The couple exchanged a heartfelt glance as they approached the doors to the restaurant. Jack held it open for her, bowed, and winked.

“-After you, my Queen.”

The two chose to sit in the back, in a small secluded booth where they could finally be alone. They placed their drinks, which came rather quickly, and then their orders. Sally finally relaxed her shoulders and sighed.

“I forgot how nice this place is..” She admitted, “How long has it been since we were here?”

“Hmm…” Jack thought for a moment. “...I don’t think we’ve been here since before our wedding.”

“Oh, my. Well then, I’m very glad you could make it here with me.”

“As am I..” he hesitated, before adding. “..The mayor seems determined on keeping us apart today, doesn’t he?”

She laughed. “It does seem that way. I think he just wants you to stay focused on Halloween.”

“Ohh, come on now. I’m plenty focused.”

“Really? You weren’t thinking of me at all, earlier?” She teased him.

“Well…”

“That’s what I thought.” Sally laughed, grabbing the top of her straw and moving it to sip her Drink. Jack tried not to smile but couldn’t help himself.

“Alright, you got me. Maybe I was a little distracted…” he reached across the table and placed his hand on top of hers. “But how could I not be, when you’re so…” He searched his head for the right word, “...alluring.”

She blushed a bit and intertwined her fingers into his. “You aren’t bad yourself, you know..”

The skeleton chucked, and opened his mouth to reply before being instantaneously cut off by a loud voice echoing through the restaurant.

“JACK!! There you are!!”

For the love of the Pumpkin Patch you have GOT to be kidding me.

Jack turned around and sure enough, the mayor was rushing towards them with his unhappy face flipped. As he ran up to them he showed absolutely zero regard to the fact that he was OBVIOUSLY barging right into their date.

“Mayor-”

“JACK!! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!! We have a problem, we need you to come quick!”

He glanced at Sally, then back to the mayor. “Surely, this can wait? I haven’t even-”

“NO!! There’s been an accident with the pumpkins!! We need you right NOW!!”

The king sighed. Never a moment's peace. He looked at Sally, who had an expression of pity on her face. He felt absolutely horrible that their moment was being ruined yet again. And for a reason that was probably unnecessary, knowing how the mayor tends to overreact. But, it was clear he wasn’t going to leave without Jack.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be right there..” He turned to his wife. “Sally-”

“No, Jack. It’s okay. I understand, this seems important.” She took his hand and they both stood out of their seats. “I’ll just take our food to go, okay? See you at home, dearest.” Jack nodded solemnly, kissed her once on the cheek and took his leave, following closely behind the mayor. Annoyance burned in the back of his throat, but he tried to swallow it and decided to just deal with the situation as quickly as possible. The sooner he could get home to Sally, the better.

Truth be told, Sally expected this sort of thing to happen. The mayor… he was always like this. Could never seem to take a hint. But it was alright, it couldn’t be helped. She understood that perfectly.

The ragdoll was back at Skellington manor now, sitting on the second floor in her sewing room. She was currently working on that scarf she wanted to make Zero. As disappointed as she was that her date with Jack a few hours ago was cut short, she was at least somewhat glad to get started on this. After leaving the restaurant she spent some time around town, chatted with the witches a bit, purchased the fabric she needed and even was able to call and have a short conversation with Jewel over the phone.

For Zero’s scarf she picked the color combination of black, white, and orange, thinking it would go well for the ghostly pup. At the moment, he was sleeping soundly at her feet, seeming unaware of the gift his mistress was making him.

Sally glanced at the clock, wondering how long it would be before Jack would return home. Almost on cue, she heard the front door open.

Jack was exhausted after today. Sure, he got lots of work done, but it seemed to be that the one thing he wanted to do was the one thing he couldn’t - spend time with his beloved. While yes, they have all the time they could want together during most of the evening and the night, but it doesn’t feel much the same. He wanted to be able to do more with her, spend time around town, without getting interrupted constantly. He knows that he usually gets busy around this time- but- this would be the first time experiencing a busy rush while being a married man.

Jack shook his head to clear it. He reminded himself that this won’t be his only opportunity- that didn’t stop him from being annoyed, however. But he was home now. So it no longer mattered.

He slipped off his shoes, and then his suit jacket, hanging it up by the door. “Dearest?” he called, “I’m h-!”

Jack’s sentence was cut off as Sally came at him suddenly, jumping and wrapping her arms around him. He made an ‘oof’ sound as her weight was thrusted onto his chest, rather unexpectedly.

“Sal..”

“Welcome home, my love!” she cooed.

“Ah...haha..thank you. I’m glad to finally be here.”

“So am I..”

“What have you been up to..?”

“Oh, nothing much. But I have been waiting for you. What do you say we relax a bit? Before making dinner?”

“After today? I’d love nothing more.” The skeleton chucked and let go of her. They walked across the room to the lunge area, sitting back on the couch where they were that morning so they could be more comfortable. A bit of cuddling would really hit the spot right now.

Jack sat down and opened his arms to her, to which Sally took the invitation right away. She fell into his lap with no hesitation, then onto her back to the side which pulled him down next to her. They wrapped their arms around each other and Sally nuzzled herself into his collar. She sighed blissfully through her nose.

“I needed this… I love you, Jack..”

“I love you too” Jack smiled, he tilted his head down and left soft kisses across her cheek that trailed down the stitches by her lips. She giggled at this, about to turn her head to kiss him back when,

SCCRRRREEEEEEEECCCHHHHHH!

The doorbell screamed loudly, once again startling the both of them. Jack, fed up, expressed his annoyance out loud this time.

“Are you serious right now..”

Sally couldn’t help but laugh. “You were right, it’s just not our day, is it?”

“I don’t feel like getting up…”

“Jack, go answer the door please.”

SCCRRRREEEEEEEECCCHHHHHH!

It rang again. Jack grumbled.

“This is getting kind of ridiculous..”

“Sweetheart, the sooner you answer the door, the sooner you come back here.”

As ticked off as he was, Jack knew she was right. Reluctantly, both of them sat up and let go of eachother. The king got off the couch and began making his way towards the door.

SCCRRRREEEEEEEECCCHHHHHH!

“JAAACK?? ARE YOU HOME?”

The third screech was accompanied by the mayor's voice. Go figure. Whatever he wanted, it better be important. He was ecstatic when Jack opened the door.

“Ah!! There you are!! I thought I'd seen you come back here.” Trying to stay patient with him, Jack just nodded.

“Yes, do you need something, Mr. Mayor?”

“Right, of course! I just wanted to bring you these.” He held out a stack of papers in his hand. He explained, “..These are the things I’ve gathered that need to be done in the next two days!! There’s quite a bit on there… I figured you might want to get a head start!”

He took the stack from him and examined it. He was right… There was a lot. But Jack really wasn’t in the mood for this right now.

“..I see. Thank you, Mayor, I’ll be sure to get started as soon as possible.”

“Horrible to hear!! Well, I have to get going. I’ve got a few more things to organize myself- have a terrible night, Jack!”

“You as well.” He bid him goodbye, and shut the door behind him.

Finally back inside, Jack dropped the papers onto the counter. He paged through them briefly… It could take a while to get through this. It would probably be wise to start that night.

But no.

Right now, all he really wanted to do was be by Sally’s side. Just to hold her, and not have to worry about anything for a little while.

He brushed the papers off to the side, deciding right then that he would deal with it tomorrow morning. Because right now, he finally, FINALLY had the one thing he wanted all day.

Just him, Sally, and their love for eachother.

He could never ask for anything better.

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) LANYU x L&N Collaboration Event! A Candle to LAN [兰倚线香] Chapter 4 Translation

“And thus, you started your short understudy at LAN-YU…”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join my Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Event story tag will be #For Light and Memories *T/N: The colleague MC’s referring to here is Gao Cheng!

Lan Yu’s studio was furnished with an exclusive pattern making room.

She’d often hole herself up in there, taking all the ideas in her head and drawings alike and materializing and crafting them into a physically tangible sample.

All samples were created on a reduced scale and lined up neatly on the display rack. Their creation process was a reproduction of how the whole masterpiece would be made, but just on a smaller scale.

Based on all the documents around her, I realized that the Designers working in the studio would collect countless data and measurements from the customer they were serving in the preparation process that came before the making of the dress, striving to achieve a perfect and comfortable fit.

Other than the recreation of the customization work that went onto the clothes of customers alike, there were also many creative and innovative experimentations scattered all over the room. There was a cheongsam made out of paper, a backpack weaved from rattan, and more.

During her breaks, Lan Yu would chat with me, telling me more about her childhood and why she chose to walk the path of a Designer.

Lan Yu: My mother’s a patternmaker who’s also brilliant at Su Embroidery. I used to help her tend to the threadings that went into it ever since I was little and I’d also tried making clothes for dolls.

Lan Yu: I had many stunning dress ideas in my head as a kid. But it wasn’t until I actually tried making them that I realized not all of it could be made into a physical masterpiece.

Lan Yu: Till now, I still believe that sometimes, the ability to make an idea into reality is something much more important than coming up with said idea.

MC: That’s true, even for me. But… I do know of a certain someone.

MC: A colleague of mine. He too, came from a family of patternmakers.

MC: He’s on the other end of the spectrum; someone who worries about being unable to step out of his comfort zone due to not having ideas that are good enough.

Lan Yu looked up and breathed a soft sigh.

Lan Yu: Yeah. There are also designers like that out there.

Lan Yu: It’s no easy feat to be competent on both ends. Sometimes, I even think about how great it’d all be if I were a genius.

A genius designer…

The images of several people flickered past my mind. There were also people like that around me, but that didn’t mean that all the effort they placed into their work could be written off as simply as that.

We exchanged glances before mutually breaking out into laughter.

Lan Yu: But using experimentation to craft it into reality’s not a bad thing at all. That’s why I specially set up a room for it in my studio.

Lan Yu: Here, you can try realizing your creativity with your own two hands without the help of a specialized tailor.

Lan Yu: The more experience gained here, the higher the chance of realizing the ideas in your head by tweaking them more realistically.

I selected a thin needle from the needle holder and cut the fabric apart. Accompanied by the rustling of fabric, I mentally voiced my agreement with her sentiments.

❖☆———————————★❖

The days passed in the blink of an eye and the Chinese-Western hybrid wedding dress was completed. It was now time for the customer to try it on.

Lan Yu especially made sure to tell me the date of the fitting, saying that the inspiration I’d given her played a great part in the making of this wedding dress and urging me to come check it out as well.

The customer came earlier than expected, both excited and uneasy as she sat at the reception in wait. Then, my curiosity got the better of me.

MC: Is your partner not with you?

Customer: I want him to see me in my wedding dress only on the dag itself. No way! Is this—

Her words died off. Following her gaze, I saw Lan Yu slowly pulling out the wooden mannequin that she'd fitted with the wedding dress.

Customer: Wow!

The hemline of the silk dress was propper up, the tulle hanging lightly around it. Around the waist was a circumference of fine lacework while the bodice was embellished with light-coloured embroidery that highlighted the blossoming flowers that decorated it.

Lan Yu: Quick, try it on.

❖☆———————————★❖

Twenty minutes later, the girl stood before the full-length mirror with her eyes sparkling full of joy.

The hem of the dress swayed along with her movements as she turned.

Customer: It fits much better than I thought it would.

She ran her fingers over the patterns on the dress, scrutinizing herself from head to toe.

Suddenly, her eyes stopped at the hemline.

Customer: Are these… words…?

There was something embroidered with gold thread, written in cursive.

Customer: Love and sacrifice…

Her eyes remained fixated there for a long time. Then, she raised a hand to shield her eyes, her hair falling forwards to curtain her features. I couldn’t gauge her expression clearly enough, but I could faintly discern a faint sob or two.

Customer: Thank you, both of you. I’m really, really happy; words can’t even begin to express myself.

Customer: This is the wedding dress of my dreams!

Seeing her teary smile, I also felt my spirits soar at how all of Lan Yu’s hard work had finally paid off.

You can really make dreams come true as a designer. Turning stunning, breath-taking, fantasies and making them all into a reality; especially when it comes to wedding dresses.

It is only by using materials, honing one’s craft, and working closely with the customer to realize their dreams, can we create a wedding dress that invokes the same emotions they desire.

❖☆———————————★❖

It was already late by the time we saw the girl off and I was getting ready to head home for the day.

Lan Yu saw me to the door as usual, but this time, she stopped me before I could say my goodbyes for the day.

Lan Yu: It'll be the weekends once tomorrow hits. Are you free?

MC: Yes, I am.

Lan Yu: Then how about you come down to my studio again? It’s a deal, okay?

She had a mysterious look on her face, something that was rarely seen on her person.

Puzzled, I agreed to her, regardless.

❖☆————— ⊹ A Candle to LAN ⊹ —————★❖

⊹ Previous Part: (Chapter 3) ⊹ Next Part: (Chapter 5)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Memories #兰倚线香 #A Candle to LAN

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fruityutas · 4 years

Text

strike to the heart

taglist ~ @puppywritings , @xiaojours , @svchengss , @prettyjaems

part of @du0tine ‘s 21 ways to kill your lover collab

unstable!yangyang x psychologist!reader

not proofread

wc ~ 5k

genre ~ angst, ttiiinnnyyy fluff, thriller

warnings ~ the following writing is FICTION and has very heavy and unsettling themes like murder, suicide, and toxic relationships. if these themes are triggering or otherwise uncomfortable to you, do NOT read this story. there are also themes of religion.

synopsis ~ you were the best of the best, no one could bring an end to your golden career until he came along

note ~ i based yangyang’s personality in this off of his turn back time persona, making him very obviously mentally unstable. the plotline is based loosely off of harley quinn’s origin story, except of course, the reader dies. i also used the concept of purgatory in this story.

i realize that purgatory is apart of various religions, and i hope i made use of it in this story in the way it is intended to be portrayed as. i am not familiar with the subject, as i am non religious and have been for many years, so if i wrote anything that was disrespectful, please let me know and i will educate myself more on the topic. please note that if i do write something disrespectful, i will not be changing the writing in any way, unless necessary, because i feel that changing/erasing the mistake prevents anyone from seeing my growth as a person.

here is the link to the website i used to read up on purgatory -> https://historylists.org/art/9-levels-of-purgatory-dantes-purgatorio.html

your parents always told you to aim for first. probably why you’re here now. you sit in the chair, watching your life play on what seems to be a screen. you can’t tell either way, everything is stark white and blends into one. the scenes are the only thing providing color to your eyes. are you dreaming? no, no that can’t be. the last thing you remember is…pain. and betrayal. how could he do this?

he was a fucking criminal. he had no true love for you, you were his final act. how could you have been so naive? every thought came too fast, it made your head hurt. a noise brought you out of your thoughts. a tall man stood off to the side of the screen. his features were sharp, and he looked angelic. “you must be y/n. you must also be wondering where you are.” you struggle to find your voice, so you nod at the man. he gives a sympathetic smile and strolls over to you.

“you’re in purgatory. well, this is the judgment room. here your memories are played and the most influential ones are used to go to their corresponding terraces.”

“do i pick them out?” he shakes his head.

“no, the council does that. you just sit and watch.” you shift in your chair, the hard material uncomfortable against your skin. “don’t worry, i’ll be here while it happens. you can call me sicheng.” his voice was hypnotizing, calming your mind. you turned back to the screen, and what you assumed to be the first memory started to play.

a burst of yelling snaps you from your thoughts. looks like we have a new patient. it was like this everytime a new patient arrived. yelling, taunting, sometimes as far as physical assault. it was like the right of passage for ‘newbies’ as the currents like to call them. you leave your office to peek downstairs. this one is surrounded by four guards. that’s unusual. two guards was standard, why does this patient need four? a danger to himself and others i assume. i should ask joy if i can take him. you hadn’t had a new patient in months, and all your others were making such progress they moved to a new unit. one of your patients, named chittaphon, had been released back into society. you were one of the best, even at such a young age.

“joy! have you assigned the new patient to anyone yet? i’d like to have him.” you plopped yourself onto the couch in her office. her soft laugh brought you comfort.

“of course you can have him, i was probably going to ask you anyway. you haven’t been busy with any others lately. yukhei is moving to a new unit next week you know. you did good with him, he asked me to tell you thank you.” your heart aches at the thought of yukhei missing you, the boy had become important to you. you would sit and let him talk about his family, his friends, and even his - what he called - soulmate. he would always gush about them and their relationship. you never suspected he could have killed them in such the way he did, or that his ill brain would rewire itself into thinking they were waiting for him to get better and be released from the hospital. the day he found that out was burned in your memory, chairs being thrown and yelling from the entire floor. it broke your heart to see him in such a state, even more when they had to lock him in isolation for a week.

but things change and he got better, and now he’s moving up a unit. more yelling snaps you out of your little thinking session. you and joy peek out her office door to see the new inmate arguing with the guards. you sigh and head down the stairs, as much as joy protests it. one of the guards notices you and tells you to stay back, and that this inmate is dangerous. you shake your head at him and push through to get closer. the inmate didn’t look much older than you, albeit a bit taller than you. he was still yelling at the guards when you came up to him and cleared your throat. he rolls his eyes and turns to you to start yelling, but you shut him down with a stern look at a shake of your head.

“now, now, you don’t want to come in and be the hardass on the first day do you?” he says nothing, but the lack of arguing from him tells you he is agreeing. you tell one of the guards to follow you to his cell. it comes to no one’s surprise that his cell is in the lower level, it’s where all the worst patients stay. the guard that accompanied you stood directly outside the door of the cell, ready for any assistance. the inmate sat down on the cot provided but faced away from you. “are you going to speak to me?” he spares you a small glance, unwavering in intimidation, but it didn’t phase you. his face was young, yet it somehow seemed to be worn and exhausted. you wanted to open him up and see what his troubles came from, to fix him into a model member of society.

“wouldn’t you want me too huh?” his tone was annoyed and sarcastic. you stay collected and just nod at him. “why don’t we start with your name?” he stays silent. “if you don’t want to cooperate that’s perfectly fine but just know i’m the only one you can talk to if you want out of here.” you stand up and leave the cell, knowing that even though it didn’t look like it, progress was made. your last statement would sit with him until the next time you visit him, and he would talk eventually.

the screen fades away and into a new image. the only thing on the screen is the word ‘stubborn.’ you are confused as to what it means. sicheng makes his way over to you, his long legs making the distance short. “it corresponds to the first level of purgatory, stubbornness. although it wasn’t you who was being the most stubborn, it seems.” he snaps his fingers and a seat appears for him to sit. the screen lights up again and another memory begins to play.

“what do you mean he wants to see me? i just spoke to him this morning and he refused to say anything?” joy shrugs her shoulders exasperatedly. you sigh and make your way towards the lower level. the guard at the security door greets you with a nod of the head before letting you in. the inmate’s cell was at the end of the hall, dimly lit and dingey, with a slight smell of mildew. the underground location made for cold air and small windows, so there was never enough light in the place. as you made your way to your patient’s cell, a few of the other inmates down there whistled at you. they whooped and hollered to your dismay, bringing unwanted attention. you recognized one of them, guanheng was his name. he had been a patient of joy’s before she was promoted to her managerial position. no one else wanted to take him on, so they sent him down here to rot. you had expressed the idea of taking him, but joy wouldn’t have it. she simply said he was too unstable for anyone, and deserved to be down there. you disagree with her to this day, but she is still your superior and you can’t just go breaking rules just for your liking.

you knocked on the door to the cell, and a gruff “come in” came from the other side. entering the cell, you saw everything in disarray. “now, why is the cell in this condition?” he huffs and crosses his arms, almost in a cute way. you shake your head and continue in, shutting the door behind you. “are you going to tell me your name? i think it would help me connect better with you.” he looks at you with a blank stare. you don’t change your facial expression, remaining stoney faced. he sighs and starts muttering to himself, as if he was arguing with someone, before looking back up at you and finally speaking. “yangyang. at least thats what i’ve been told.” you hum lightly before asking him a few more questions.

“is it alright if i call you yangyang?” “yes” “alrightly then, do you remember anything from yesterday?” he ponders for a moment, his face going through a group of different expressions before he looks back to you. “i only know that i woke up and felt like hurting someone. but i can’t remember who or why. do you have any pens?” the last question catches you off guard. you hand him an extra pen from your coat pocket. he takes it eagerly and looks to your clipboard with expectant eyes. you tear a blank piece of paper from the back and hand it over. he immediately draws nonsense doodles, the paper quickly being filled. when he fills it, he flips it over to do the other side. “you can keep asking me things, you know. i like to draw, though i don’t know what. the other voice tells me to just make lines and things.” you’re jotting down notes when all of a sudden he throws the pen at you. it hits you square in the head, and you look up at him in surprise. he starts giggling and throws the crumpled paper at you. you remain calm as this can be a common occurrence among patients. his giggles become… unsettling very quickly, the tone and manner of them turning to a deeper octave. you slowly reach into your pocket to grab the help button, but you don’t press it just yet. yangyang stops his giggling and it becomes muttering. his words are difficult to make out, but you pick out a few, ‘kill’, ‘why’, and ‘forget’. you jot them down along with a note stating he was mumbling them in sentences that were not understood. “yangyang, are you hearing anything? do you know the other voice’s name if they have one?” he peeks out of his arms at you nodding. “they tell me that i shouldn’t have forgotten why i killed her.” you had notes on him that his previous institution gave to you, but you wanted to earn his trust by asking various questions. “who did you kill?” you knew he killed his mother, left her body hanging from the porch for everyone to see. the question cause him to tear up a bit. “i, i killed my mother. she just wouldn’t shut up, always nagging me about the house and bills, as if i could help it. she was a bitch.” “mmm, yes. but you loved her still, no?” he nods shakily as if he was unsure. “and did you forget why you killed her that morning?” another nod is sent to you. you keep taking notes on his behaviors.

you end the session on a positive note, telling yangyang that he did good today and that you’d be back tomorrow, but if he needed you to ask.

the screen once again went dark before the word ‘repentance’ appears. sicheng whips a pen-like object from nothing, grabbing your arm harshly to turn you towards him. “now, you might not like this next part but it has to be done. i have to carve five p’s into you somewhere. they aren’t permanent but it still hurts.” you panic slightly, trying to get away from his grasp.

“why?!” his face is stoic and cold, the seriousness setting in. you continue to struggle until he grips your face with vigor, causing you to stop moving. “stop. moving. it has to be done. now, where do you want me to do it?” you just point to your arm and look away as he does it. the pain is searing but bearable. “what is this for?” he makes the pen disappear before clearing his throat to speak. “for each of the sins that lead to your death, there is a ‘p’. the council shows a memory that corresponds to a sin, and you must figure out which one. if you get it right, you move one to the next one until the end, where you are allowed into heaven. if you get them wrong, you have another chance with a different memory. you only get two chances for each sin, though, and if you lose both of them a ‘p’ stays and it’s harder to get the next one correct. if you get more than two sins wrong, you spend 100 years here and then you are banished to hell. so please, be careful and choose wisely.” and with that he turns his attention back to the screen, as do you.

your appointments with yangyang were productive and you got to know him a lot better within the past few days. he hated dogs, they were too noisy and energetic for him. he really wanted to paint and draw all the time, so you gave him a few paint markers to decorate his cell with. when you had your next appointment, the walls were pretty full. he liked the texture of orange peels, he hated the taste. a lot of the things you learned intrigued you, why was his brain wired this way? you needed to dig deeper, and you knew you could. you had many awards and praises from seniors, your ego was swollen from it all. you took pride in your work, and you weren’t exactly humble about it. you would always brag to others about your accomplishments, and sometimes you made it a competition between you and your coworkers. joy was the only one that didn’t pay attention to it, she always let you go on rants about how you accomplished so many things this young.

the door to yangyang’s cell was the same grey color as usual, though on the inside, the room was filled with markings and random drawings the boy did. “yangie? what’s up?” he excitedly jumps from his spot on the bed over to the corner that the sessions took place in. two small chairs and a table were tucked in it, but it was cozy to you. a warm smile took place on your face as you sat in front of him. “well, today i really tried my best to not get angry with anyone like you said, and it worked! all i did was think about what you said to me and it helped so much. no one messed with me either.” there it is, the rush of pride in yourself. your ego is boosted, refilled for the day. you knew he could do it, with your help of course. you were the best in the field. “that is really good to hear, yangyang. i’m glad you remembered what i told you so you could control your emotions.” his hair bounced with each energized nod he gave you. you opened your clipboard and handed him a small stack of blank paper. “this is for you. now you have something clean to draw on again.” he took the papers excitedly.

the rest of the session was yangyang rambling on about how you were the only one helping him and how he really liked seeing you. you observed him and from time to time you’d write notes down on his info sheet. every time he caught you staring, he’d blush and look back at his drawings. a smirk carved into your face, and a wink was all it took for him to turn into a stuttering mess. you left the session that day glowing in confidence and pride.

the screen fades away, and you feel a tingling on your arm where one of the Ps is. sicheng’s voice whispers into your ear, “figure out what sin you just witnessed.” it makes you jump a little, but you quickly regain your composure. all you could think about was yangyang. but deep inside your inner conscious, you knew the sin here wasn’t about him. it was about you. “i have my answer.” sicheng gives you a small nod and when you turn back around, a dark and windy figure stands in front of you. a voice not belonging to you enters your mind. “which sin is it, y/n?” with a shaky voice, and sweating palms, you manage to garble out your answer. “it’s pride. i was prideful in my ways, never backing down from challenges that weren’t meant for me.” the dark figure nods before wisping away. the tingling returns to your arm, and as you look down at it a P swiftly disappears. sicheng’s footsteps bring you back up to the screen, which begins to play a new memory.

the continuous sessions with yangyang proved to be well. his condition was getting better, and he seemed to be taking well to the exercises you gave him. you were on your way to an appointment when joy came up beside you. “have you met with the new doctor yet?” you shake your head. “no, what’s their name? where are they located?” she tries to hide a mischievous smirk, grabbing your arm to stop your walking. “he is absolutely gorgeous! his name is kunhang and he’s actually gonna be on your unit, which means you’re training him since you are the best.” you chuckle at her enthusiasm, she’d always been trying to hook you up with people. she winks at you and runs off, probably to her next appointment. she’d conveniently stopped you in front of yangyang’s cell. you walk inside and see him on his bed pouting.

“what is wrong with you?” his eyes look up at you and shine with the beginnings of tears, worrying you. had the guards or an inmate said something to him? while you’re lost in thought he jumps up and pulls you on the bed with him, his arms wrapped tightly around you. you snap out of it and sit frozen in his arms. the feeling of butterflies in your stomach erupt and you know it’s because of the man in your arms. he lets you go and you stand up to fix your uniform. “what had gotten into you, yangs?” his pouting doesn’t go away and he speaks softly. “who is kunhang?” so that’s what he’s being clingy for. he’s jealous. “he’s a new psychiatrist here. i have to train him.” yangyang didn’t get rid of the pout on his face, and he didn’t let your hand go for the entire session. the jealousy he had even after you told him that nothing was going to happen between you and kunhang was noteworthy, though you didn’t specify why he was jealous on his chart.

the surrounding air had become cold, and you shiver harshly. sicheng sits beside you, tapping impatiently on the table. the shadow figure returns, and before it can speak you do. “the sin was envy. but why did you show me a memory of someone else being envious? i thought this was about my sins.” the figure doesn’t move from its spot. sicheng sighs and throws a stick at the figure, causing it to grunt. “that was unnecessary, sicheng. you are the reason for this sin. you let yangyang get attached to you, causing him to become jealous and protective of you. you may not have committed this sin, but you had the first hand in causing it.” you nod in agreeance, you had let him get close with you. too close, in your opinion, because if you hadn’t you wouldn’t be in this whole situation. it’s a bit ironic, you always told your coworkers to be wary of patients, yet here you are, stuck in purgatory because of one.

in the days leading up to your death, yangyang requested to see you nonstop, and he would ask so many questions about the outside world. what was surrounding the building, how many people were in the city. in hindsight, you should have suspected him to be trying to escape, but your mind was apparently on other things.

the last day you were alive, yangyang requested you only once. it was around eight in the evening, and this was going to be your last trip to his cell, quite literally. “are you ok, yangyang?” he nods and makes his way over to you. he might be younger, but his height is not small. “i’m just fine. but i wanna ask you something.” you nod to let him continue. “i’m planning to leave, and i want you to come with me.” the words come out of him in a hurry, but you catch them. a pit forms in your chest after hearing them. what in the world was he thinking? your job was important, and he still needed the therapy sessions you were giving him. “no, absolutely not. yangyang you can’t leave without proper check out from me and my superior. you know this.” he sighs in annoyance, grabbing your hand and dragging you to sit. “that’s not the type of leaving i meant. i mean we sneak out and never look back. we leave here and head north to my good friend ten’s house. he has this bigass mansion in the middle of nowhere, and we can lie low there for a while before going somewhere else and starting new!” you can’t bring yourself to say anything, the shock of how much he’d thought out this plan sitting heavy on your shoulders. the courage to say something before he thinks you’re agreeing with him bubbles up. “yangyang, under all circumstances, you and i cannot do that. do you know how many force tasks they’d send out for us? how much trouble we’d be in when they caught us? plus, you still need these sessions that i’m doing. the real world is harsh, and doesn’t take kindly to you. i wouldn’t want you or anyone else getting hurt.” his face contorts into sadness at your statement. he pulls you in for a bone-crushing hug, not letting go. “but i thought you loved me, don’t you want us to be happy together?” your blood runs cold at his confession. love was never on the table, the flirting you’d been doing was just to open him up to make it easier to talk. you knew you were taking a risk doing that, but never had you anticipated him to fall in love with you and think it was mutual. you separate yourself from him and walk to the door. “yangyang, are you being serious? you- you don’t actually think i’m in love with you, right?” his face falls, going completely straight. no movement comes from either of you for a good minute, the situation at hand causing hesitance. “you’re not? i just thought… you were.” you scoff at the boy sitting in front of you. “y/n, i don’t think you realize that i’ve already planned for this. we’re gonna have to leave.” you start to argue with him but a flurry of gunshots and screams ring out from all around you. you turn and pull the door open to see patients and guards frantically running about, a breach in the facility causing this. “jesus fucking- yangyang why in the hell would you do this!?” you turn to see him getting up from the bed and gathering a few items. “yangyang!” he doesn’t respond, only grabbing your arm and pulling you along with him. you’re too much in shock to resist the boy, and on top of that he’s definitely stronger than you. the run towards whatever exit he’s taking you to seems surreal. the amount of trouble you’re going to be in for this is astronomical. you can hear the words “you’re fired” repeating in your mind. outside the door is an alleyway that connects the facility to a power plant. it seemed like they’d had a breach too. yangyang really wasn’t lying when he said you’d have to leave to someplace far away. he drags you into the plant and heads for the large vats of chemicals. “yangyang where the hell are you taking us? what are you doing?” he glances over his shoulder at you, a deathly look on his face. “this wouldn’t have been in the plan if you had just done what i needed you to do. now you have to pay the price.” what in the fuck did he mean.

the vats were in sight, glowing and hot from the chemicals in them. your surroundings loud from combat, you’d assumed from runaway patients attacking. yangyang stopped in front of the largest one, looking down in it and smirking. he turns to a very shaken you, giggling like a madman. “i think you know what’s in store for you my love. you betrayed me! you gave me all the signs, and carelessly flirted, acting like you liked me.” tears were pouring down both of your faces, but for different reasons. the end of your life was staring at you, loud and proud, and you knew this. you had many goals in your life, and to see none of them get achieved hurt you. you take one last look at yangyang, who is inching closer. “i’m sorry for making you feel like that. i just hope that in the next life, you’ll be a normal person and get to experience life in a positive perspective.” he doesn’t seem to care, because as soon as he gets close enough to you, he grips your face and leans in. “and now, my love, you leave me with a kiss.” his lips lock with yours for a brief second before he shoves you hard, taking the breath out of you. you fall backwards into the vat, the acidic chemicals eating you. yangyang stares at you as you perish, the smile slowly dropping from his face.

one would think this whole tragedy could be easily resolved, but this was not a villain origin story, it was real life, and you were dead. yangyang knew what he had done was fatal, but make no mistake, you knew it was what he wanted. he did love you, but his brain was not the same as a normal person’s. the wiring was simply not supportive of any form of morals, no right or wrong could be detected. all he knew was that you were in the way of him getting out, and he needed you removed. so he did.

and as reality set in for him, yangyang realized that you were the only one who understood him. you were the one to listen to his problems and not look at him like he was crazy, to help him through the intrusive thoughts, and you did that all while loving him.

he breaks down, dropping to his knees at the harsh reality that you were gone forever, and no longer able to make him happy. the salty tears running down his face provided a blunt sting to the cuts and scrapes adorning his face. his shoulders shook with sorrow and his sobs were melancholic. yangyang can’t even think straight, all his mind is screaming is you. your name, face, your soft hair, warm skin, and the way you laughed at all his stupid jokes. he wants an escape from the voices in his head. the grate walkways that line the perimeter of the vats are loud with yangyang’s manic running. all he wants is freedom from his personal hell, he’s had to deal with people looking down on him all his life, saying that he was never going to be able to be normal, berating him for all the fucked up things he’s done, but never helping him to be a better person, always leaving him to rot in different psych ward cells.

gun. there’s one somewhere.

the one voice in his head that wasn’t screaming made him worry no less than before, but he knew to heed his own advice. it was the only coherent thought at the moment so what’s the harm. yangyang finds himself lost, and begins to get angry until he sees a guard coming his way. attacking him, he easily finds a gun and wrings it from the man’s grip before shooting him dead. the body slumps over and yangyang decides that he’d rather not die next to it. he is far too lost to try and get back to where he pushed you to your timely death, so he just runs until he finds a room. unlocked and unoccupied, he slips in and locks the door behind him.

the leather chair that he sits in is worn and comfortable. the desk has various papers scattered around, and the computer is off. yangyang takes one good look at himself in the reflection of the screen before pulling the trigger.

the judgement room is even colder than before. you sit in the uncomfortable chair, tears streaming down your face and sobs ripping through your chest. sicheng sits, unaffected by your pain. the shadowy figure appears in front of you, so close you can hear whispers of a large multitude floating out of it. “y/n, you must finish the trial. what was the last sin?” you try your damndest to compose yourself, wiping the tears and hiccuping. “i- he was…” “no, y/n. no excuses. what is the sin displayed here?” you didn’t need this figure up your ass about it, the answer was obvious. sighing, you look up at it, seeing it slightly resembles a man. “wrath.” the figure hums in response, moving over to show the screen again. in large font and bold letters, the word “repentance” is shown. “you have passed judgement, and you shall be going to heaven. are there any questions?”

#neowritingsnet #nshitty-frathouse #unfortunatus: inferno #nct #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv yangyang #yangyang #yangyang x reader #yangyang scenarios

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thegothicviking · 3 years

Text

As re-entering a link from herzeleid.com never seem to work (??) I usually copy and paste the actual text. Remember a transcription of Flake chatting with fans that I posted from early 00'? Before this Paul had a similar if not the same chat. I have already too long post in tumblr now so it will be broken down in 2 parts!

PAUL CHAT WITH FANS part I

Transcribed by Jeremy Williams

Taken from Rammstein.com chat

October 26 , 2005

_____________________________

Mod: Hello to you all. Thanks for coming out. Paul will be here in just a few minutes. And then we're going to get started.

Paul: Let's go!

niti: +++

Mod: Sorry, there was a technical problem. But the chat will start soon.

niti: +++

**atomrt: how do you chose the sounds for each song because all of them fit perfectly?**

Paul: Thanks a lot! Sometimes that works out well, sometimes not so well.+++

**maria: Your album covers have always sparked a lot of controversy. Which cover is your favourite and why?**

Paul: The cover for Sehnsucht was the most dramatic in my opinion.+++

**Benzramm: What was coming out of the fake penis during the live act "Bück Dich"? **

Paul: That was water with Ouzo to make it milky.+++

**Beurgueur: Good evening, Have you ever thought to write a metal-opera based on rammstein’ story?**

Paul: Hopefully not. We have enough theater elements already.+++

**MafiUndomiel: I was at River Plate Stadium in Argentina, 1999, when you toured with KISS. You did almost surpassed KISS music and show with your impact, and many people was really impressed. I still remember the silence during Du Hast, as Till was singing the refrain. What do you remember of Argentina, of this show? **

Paul: Yeah, that was unbelievable. It's a shame that we can't play in South America this time. Flake was seriously ill.+++

**MafiUndomiel: Did Till write Te Quiero Puta on his own, or had some kind of external help? I know it's not very complicated, nor elaborated in the lyrics, but it's not easy to put two or three sentences together if you don't know the language... believe me! I'm still trying with German!**

Paul: He had some help from his girlfriend and from Flake's friend from Chile.

Paul: But Till can already speak Spanish so well that he only had a few questions about grammar.+++

**monkeyman: What type of gear do you use when recording in the studio?**

Paul: This would take two hours to list. Too much for now. Sorry.+++

**Hugo: Why did you choose almost the same cover for the japanese version of Reise, Reise and Rosenrot? **

Paul: Because we thought it would be a shame to use the cover only for the Japanese edition.+++

**MafiUndomiel: There are many bands that edited DVD and VHS with the footage they got when they recorded their albums, the creative process and all that stuff. Since many R+ fans are really interested in knowing "Rammstein's kitchen", have you considered releasing something of that kind?

** Paul: I filmed some of the footage during Reise, Reise and it will come out sometime on a DVD as bonus material.+++

**blastedop: What happened to Live DVD? It was delayed? **

Paul: Yeah a little bit, but we're going to try to do it this year.+++

**MafiUndomiel: I wanted to know how did you put your setlists together when you go to a country you've never been... you mix old and new material, or you prefer to show your new material above all, and play only the "classics"? **

Paul: We play a mix of both old and new.+++

**Jenna: As you are possibly the most successful band from Germany (singing in German) that you are expected to represent German music and culture to the rest of the world? **

Paul: It was never our plan to play all over the world.

Paul: Sometimes we wonder ourselves how this all happened.+++

**beurgueur: what american film director would you enjoy to make a ckip with **

Paul: Tarantino.+++

**Benzramm: Did you ever get hurt when you were working with fire on the live acts ? **

Paul: Sometimes.+++

**aeon: One Rammstein member said you had a movie project with Werner Herzog. Do you think this project will be carried out and would you like to act in something different from Rammstein videos ? **

Paul: It's been awhile with WErner herzog. Maybe it will work out, there's still a plan to do it.

Paul: +++

**Rammsteinizied: Dear Paul: What is your favorite live performance effect? (like the flamethrowes in Feuer frei or the bow in DRSG) **

Paul: The nose flame throwers that we use in Feuer frei!+++

**MafiUndomiel: Which was your first guitar? Do you still own it? **

Paul: It was a Telecaster copy. A cheap one. I gave away my first guitars at an auction for a good cause. No idea whether it worked out.+++

**Straya: This has been in my mind for a while now, and I must ask. From the sample songs on the official site, it seems Rosenrot might be your 'hardest/loudest' albums, the songs seem 'hard', in a way, like Ich Will, Feuer Frei, and Mein Teil; what do you think of this? **

Paul: I don't think so. There are fewer sequences so the guitars come out better.+++

**Synthema: Do you still feel that being in Rammstein is almost like being in a six-way marriage? Does the band still function as a tight a unit or have things drifted apart? **

Paul: Yeah.

Paul: We're still together. Knock on wood. We've been together for 10 years and now that we've gone through our crisis, we feel better than ever.

Paul: We've got money, success, beautiful women and all the rest.

Paul: Things can only get worse.+++

**Jenna: Do you think your videos help to stop you taking yourselves too seriously? **

Paul: We've always taken ourselves less seriously than many people think. our best friends know this.

Paul: At the moment, we don't feel like making any humouress videos.+++

**whiskeypapa: When writing a song, how many/what kinds of revisions does the song go through before finally making it onto an album? **

Paul: Some songs make it out directly as we conceived them. With other songs, we make 20 versions and they still don't make it.

Paul: +++

**Noora: HI! I'm a fashion and design student from Finland and I was wondering about your stage costumes...How much do you participate in the designing and making of the outfits that you use on your tours? I understand that every album has its own look. Do you first design the outline of the look as a band and hen consult a designer and maker? Thanx and welcome back to Finland! :)**

Paul: Most ideas come directly from the band. For the last outfit, we had the idea to combine Bavarian folkloric outfits with industrial.

Paul: Because Bavarian folklore is not very cool and we like to mix things that you're not supposed to.+++

**Beurgueur: Have you ever thought in what your life would be now if rammstein never was created?**

Paul: No. We don't think that way.+++

**minx: It’s been stated in several interviews that the band has two pyromaniacs in the group, but is there anyone who is not so fond of fire?**

Paul: Everybody in the band has a different specialty.

Paul: Each of us is really equally important.

Paul: It doesn'T matter what each does, it could be better when two are on vacation during preparation and actually help us to make a good video this way.+++

**Badeend: Who thinks of the titles of the cd's? Is it some kind of democraty or is it 1 man that decides?**

Paul: We make the decision as a group but it's not really a democracy. More like a board of directors.+++

**Biz: How have older industrial bands (such as Laibach or KMFDM) influenced you?**

Paul: A lot.

Paul: Also Ministry.+++

**minx: What is the oily black/brown liquid that you are all covered with on stage? Is it a fire retardant liquid?**

Paul: No.

Paul: That's a secret.+++

**minx: Why did you wear a paper bag over your head at the concert in Tallin, last November?**

Paul: I wanted to display an Iraqi prisoner.

Paul: There's a photo of a guy behind barbed wire and he's holding his son but he has a bag on his head.

Paul: That photo really had an impact on me.+++

**aeon: Why do you only do signing sessions in London and Paris? Why not in other big cities f Europe or even Germany? Or is anything planned? **

Paul: Actually we've only planned for Paris. London snuck in at the last minute.

Paul: I don't know any more signing sessions details right now.+++

**Badeend: Did you take gitar lessons or did you teach it on your self?**

Paul: Self-taught.

Paul: +++

**minx: I am going to be at the signing in London on Sunday. Do you enjoy doing those types of promotional events or are they just ‘hard work’?**

Paul: Sometimes it's a lot of fun but other times it can be exhausting.+++

**Synthema: It could be said that the "Rosenrot" photos are quite a departure image-wise from what one would expect from the band. Was this something that was decided by the band for a particular reason, or is this the sort of decision that is out of your hands? Does your management or record label have much control over how you present yourselves, or is that left to you?**

Paul: We don't like to repeat ourselves.

Paul: Usually the band always has the last word on these amtters. But weR'e not always interested in all of the details.+++

**Badeend: What is the new instrument you used in the song Te Quiero Puta?**

Paul: Trumpet.+++

**beurgueur: do you think you'll be on stage again when you'll be 60? (like rolling stones for example...)**

Paul: Hopefully somebody will die first. Then we won'T have to worry about that.+++

**minx: Do you do you all do own make-up for the shows?**

Paul: Yes.+++

**OK-River: Will Rammstein play again "Bück Dich" in a concert, or it is something of the past?**

Paul: I wouldn't say no.+++

**blastedop: Rosenrot is so diferent from Reise Reise. How is this possible if these songs are from Reise Reise recording season?**

Paul: I don'T think so. Listen to the whole album.+++

**Benzramm: Are you a sort of scared when flake is going with his boat in the public ? **

Paul: No.

Paul: But it was always Oli last year.+++

**whiskeypapa: Which of your songs invokes the most emotion from you?**

Paul: Seemann.+++

**MsBehaviour: Greetings from Finland and good evening! My question is, you have been playing together as a band for quite a many years now, and there is a big difference in the sound of Herzeleid and the sound of Reise Reise. Does this "evolution" come naturally to you, or do you make conscious decisions as to where to direct your sound? How do you feel about the change?**

Paul: There are some of us who want to stay the same.

Paul: There's some of us who want to always change.

Paul: These parties fight each other and the result is a new album or a black eye.+++

**MafiUndomiel: Have you heard a cover version of Keine Lust made by a Russian guy called Miguel? What did you think about it?**

Paul: Not yet, unfortunately.+++

**Badeend: Do you have a private jet or do you have to rent a plane?**

Paul: When the record company pays, we fly Business. When we have to pay, it'S Tourist class. Sometimes, when the connections are difficult, we rent a litlle jet.+++

**luna: First "Snow White" now "Rose Red". Do the members of Rammstein have a fondness for fairytales?**

Paul: Who doesn't?+++

**Synthema: Do you still enjoy performing live after all these years, or is it more of a chore now?**

Paul: If we didn't like it, we wouldn't have been around so long.+++

**Benzramm: Is there a double meaning in the songtexts of your songs ? **

Paul: Yeah. But the subtleties and double-meanings get lsot in translation.+++

**Badeend: What is your favorite song or cd?**

Paul: Kill Bill 1.+++

**DRS2G: Is "Hilf Mir" inspired by a Heinrich Hoffmann's tale?!**

Paul: Yes.+++

**Synthema: Have you ever felt that the success of Rammstein has been a negative thing for you in your personal life? That it makes it difficult to decide who to trust and who not to?**

Paul: It is difficult to stay normal despite money and success.

Paul: We fight this on a daily battle but we usually win.+++

**Beurgueur: from a viewer: what guitar do you use for your c tuning, and what guitar does richard use for this?**

Paul: I play a Gibson Les Paul and Richard plays ESP guitars.+++

**Benzramm: Did you really go to the mountains for the videoclip "Ohne Dich"?**

Paul: Yes. The was the funnest video of them all.

Paul: The thin air up there was difficult.

Paul: I'm impressed by mountain climbers who go even higher.

Paul: It was difficult for our crew and us.+++

**MafiUndomiel: how did you and richard decided who was going to be lead and who rythm guitars?**

Paul: Good question.

Paul: We're both stubborn.

Paul: It's a fight every time but we're still doing alright up to now.

Paul: Actually, the winner is supposed to be the one who plays the best solo.+++

**Badeend: Do you still have to take guitar lessons to play better?**

Paul: No.+++

**blastedop: Do you visit fansites? How about a Top 10 Fansites in the official page?**

Paul: From time to time.+++

**Badeend: Why did you pick just that girl for the Texas vocal in Stirb nich vor Mir?**

Paul: It was our producer's idea.+++

**MafiUndomiel: Paul, is there any country that you´d like to visit or going on tour, and you haven´t yet? Why?**

Paul: Yes, we would love to go to Turkey, Mongolia, Iraq. We know we've got lots of fans there.+++

**Jenna: Which current musicians (Not youselves, I'm sorry) do you think are creating the best work at the moment?**

Paul: System of a Down, Muse, Snoop Doggy Dog, Eminem, Slip Knot, etc.+++

**Rammsteinizied: Dear Paul, How do you feel about us fans?**

Paul: It's an honour.+++

**Minx: Do you have a favourite guitar part in a particular song you really enjoy?**

Paul: +++

**DRS2G: Will "Rosenrot" be the 2nd single from your new album?!**

Paul: Yes.+++

**Straya: I'm wondering how this question has not come up yet... but, plenty of people are asking if you guys will tour in America and Canada. I don't mean for this to be one of those annoying questions. But, has anything be talked about?**

Paul: I'm certain that we'll tour North and South America with our next album.+++

**rammsteinuk: I read in a recent interview that there were some arguments within the band during the production of 'Mutter'. Have there been any more strong disagreements like this since?

**Paul: Thankfully not. There's always stress when six stubborn people meet, but nothing serious.+++

**minx: Most influential musician on yourself?**

Paul: Laibach, Ministry, Metallica, Nirvana.+++

**blastedop: Did you like Benzin video? Schneider didnt.**

Paul: I don't think it's that bad.

Paul: We've had three really good videos in a row, so it'S hard to keep the standards so high.

Paul: I'm glad that there's some variation, next time we'll improve.+++

**whiskeypapa: First, Reise Reise saw a "country moment" with Los, and now Rosenrot has Te Quiero Puta. If you could make a fusion of Rammstein and any other world music (for fun), what would it be?**

Paul: Yes, I interested in all combinations of things that don'T fit together.+++

**Biz: Are there any downsides to being famous?**

Paul: We're famous but we can still buy groceries in Berlin without bodyguards.

Paul: We've got nothing to complain about.

Paul: Our band is famous around the world but we still have normal lives, thank God.+++

**minty: Paul are you looking forward to the world cup next year? who will win?**

Paul: Yes. It doesn'T look good for Germany right now.

Paul: I hope that a miracle happens.+++

**aeon: Do you hope your music will still be appreciated in many years from now or it doesn't matter to you ?**

Paul: I think that we're relatively timeless.

Paul: But that'S probably what every band thinks and two years later nobody cares ...+++

**DRS2G: Was it good to be directed by Jonas Akerlund?!**

Paul: Yes, he's just a cool guy.+++

#I have had this in my draft since forever #I'm sorry if I have already posted this #paul landers #rammstein interview #rammstein #christoph schneider

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spencersawkward · 4 years

Text

switchblade faith // spencer reid - chapter 2

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

word count: 3.5k

masterlist

Richard Slessman's bedroom looks like something straight out of a serial killer documentary. floral wallpaper taunts Morgan and I as we walk inside. a model airplane hangs above his bed; cheap medals-- the kind kids get for participation-- decorate the area above his desk, which is littered with books about forensics. there's a carousel of CDs, too.

"whoa." is my brilliant analysis.

"we should have Garcia check out this guy's laptop." Morgan starts to wander around the room, trying to piece together Slessman's head just by examining his things. a group of cops are already huddled at the table with the laptop open, and I realize too late what they're doing.

"log in password." one of them plucks a post-it off the screen, starts to type it in.

"wait, wait--" Morgan and I nearly lunge toward them, but the crackling sound of a fizzing motherboard tells me we're too late. the screen goes black.

"it's not turning back on." Genius #1 observes. Morgan sighs and squeezes his eyes shut in frustration.

"yeah, and it won't. it's a false password."

the cops stare up at us blankly.

"it triggers a complete shut down of his system." I clarify. they share a look, deservedly feeling stupid. I want to roll my eyes, but Morgan's told me that the police on these cases get defensive most of the time; they don't like us on their turf. one glance from my partner, though, and those guys flee the room without another word.

I pull out my phone and dial Garcia's number in the hopes that she can salvage whatever's left of this asshole's computer. we arrested him an hour ago and we can only hold him with probable cause because we don't have any charges yet. this house search could be our only chance to get him in custody.

"well hello, my fresh-faced beauty queen." Penelope answers on the second ring. a slight smile turns up the corners of my mouth.

"hi, Penelope." I watch Derek plugging something into the laptop, then opening another monitor next to it. "listen, Morgan's trying to set up Richard Slessman's computer and I was wondering if you'd be able to hack into it."

"oh, kitten," she sighs contentedly. "that's my bread and butter."

"great. I'm putting you on speaker." I press a button and wait for Morgan to talk. he's typing furiously until a tab pops up with the words "Deadbolt Defense" in bold above a box for a password.

"what's the six at the bottom of the screen mean?" I ask.

"remaining password attempts until it wipes the hard drive." Morgan replies. shit.

"Penelope, there might be a journal or document or something that tells us where Heather is." I inform her.

"what system are we talking?" she asks.

"Deadbolt Defense?"

"Deadbolt is the number one crack-resistant software out there, hon. you're gonna need to get inside this guy's head for the password."

my heart sinks. when my colleague double takes, it makes me think that this is a rare occurrence.

"babygirl, are you serious?" Morgan complains. my shoulders droop. Penelope has been nothing short of genius since I got here. slicing through sealed files and unfurling secret criminal records is always ridiculously easy for her.

"sorry, handsome."

"thanks anyway." I hang up and shove my phone into my back pocket. "so... what now?"

"now," Morgan takes another look around the room. "we get creative."

...

somehow, I wind up in the attic. I don't really know how this happens, seeing as I started by flipping through discs in Slessman's weird quasi-childlike bedroom, but it's certainly an interesting space. Christmas lights are strung about, along with some shawl-like material that drapes raw ceiling.

the laptop sits in front of me, password cursor blinking mockingly while I sit in the chair. my head is aching. despite having the unit go through every single one of the CDs in search of the most-played one (hoping it'll crack the password), there's been nothing.

at least there have been other successes since we got here: we know that Slessman isn't operating on his own. he's the submissive in a partnership with Timothy Vogel, a prison guard where he was incarcerated a while back. the problem is that Vogel was onto us and fled to the kidnapping site, which we can't find. I feel useless sitting here with nothing to offer.

I consider going back downstairs and perusing the room again when I hear footsteps on the stairs. Reid's head pops into the room, spinning a bent paper clip between his fingers.

"hey." I greet curiously.

"I've been thinking about the CDs." he responds, walking over to me. I rub the heels of my hands against my eyes.

"we tried it, Reid. there's nothing there," I slam my back to the cushions with an exasperated groan. "if we don't find something, this girl is dead."

instead of replying, Reid bends down next to the laptop in front of me, squinting at the DVD slot in the side. he pokes the end of his bent paper clip into the small opening.

"I think we may have missed the obvious." he murmurs, working diligently. I scowl.

"what do you--?" in response to my question, the DVD slot pops open and out slides a copy of a Metallica CD. Reid and I look at each other with wide eyes before I snatch the disc out of of the computer and stare at it. "what made you think of this?"

"it was the only empty case." he shrugs. I grin at him.

"okay, okay," we still don't have the password. I read the cover of the case he hands me. "I'm an insomniac who listens to Metallica to fall asleep. what song would make me do that?"

Spencer frowns, grabs the thing back from my hands, and scans the track list within the span of a second.

"'Enter Sandman'." he says. I watch the puzzle pieces fall into place in his brain, those lips parting with a slight smile playing at the edges. his eyes gleam with satisfaction.

"you are a national treasure." I type like the wind, unlocking the screen and immediately digging into his files. Spencer peers over my shoulder as we search for any indication of Heather's location.

"fucking bingo." I mutter when a video feed pops up. it's black-and-white, showing a crate in the corner of the room with a light hanging above it. Heather's inside, eyes duct taped and hands tied in front of her.

Spencer is already dialing Hotch's number. the blood drains from my face as I watch her trying to breathe through the gag in her mouth.

nothing in the feed is helpful in terms of finding out where she is. it's a nondescript room with wooden floors, mostly shrouded in darkness except for the light hanging overhead.

"wait a minute." I pause what I'm doing.

"hm?" Reid asks. I hit a few keys, trying something.

"I'm lining up the last twelve images." I explain as he watches me work. the photos sit in a grid on the screen, causing my heart to stop in my chest when I notice what I've been meaning to find. "look at the light."

"it's shifting positions like it's swaying," he notices. "like the earth is tilting."

"the ocean." I nod. we share another glance, both of our hearts hammering. we're so close to solving this, I can feel it in my chest. "we need to tell Hotch. find out if there are any piers or docks near here. there's no way he could get the webcam image from the middle of the ocean."

Reid nods, runs downstairs as fast as he possibly can. when he goes, I notice the board in the corner of the room: Go, mid-game. I've never learned how to play.

...

by the time I get back to my apartment that night, my limbs feel like jello. I collapse into the chair by my door and rub my eyes again. my head is still pounding now that the adrenaline rush has subsided. we ended up finding Vogel at the docks; Heather is safe. Hotch was shot in the arm, but he'll be fine. and I'm still a little in shock.

I hate the rumble of my stomach as I realize I haven't eaten since this morning. my head was too full of other thoughts to even consider food and after such a long day, I can barely fathom getting up to change into pajamas.

my phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to see that Garcia texted me.

what are you up to? followed by a series of emojis that make me smile. I sink deeper into the seat before replying.

nothing why?

can I bring over takeout?

I stare at the message for a second with surprise. Garcia is fun and we've had drinks as a team, but I've never hung out with her one-on-one before. I'm curious.

sure. what genre of food should I expect?

Thai. send me your order!

that sounds so good right now, I almost order it myself. part of me is nervous about hanging out with a team member by myself, except she's been so friendly to me. Penelope was the first person to make me feel at home, aside from Prentiss.

I wait patiently for her to arrive, watching some TV and working my way through some leftover paperwork. my thoughts are everywhere right now, but when she tells me she's downstairs, I try to put it all out of my mind.

"hey!" I open the door to see Garcia with an armful of plastic bags.

"I have your curry, and I got chicken satay and spring rolls and fried rice in case you're still hungry." she beams at me. her bracelets make a pleasant clinking noise as she waves the goodies around.

"a woman after my own heart." I smile, stepping aside to let her in. we head upstairs and before long, we're settled on my couch with a full display of food on the coffee table. I heap my plate while she looks around my space.

"this place is so cute!" she says through a bite of spring roll.

"thanks. I've had it for about two years now. that window over there was really the selling point." I point to the enormous view of downtown DC, which is sparkling right now. there's another chair set in front of it, where I sometimes read or nap in my free time.

as we eat, Penelope and I gossip about work and the city and everything else. she's really easy to talk to. when I ask about her life, she doesn't seem guarded at all; unlike a lot of FBI agents I've met, she wears her experiences on her sleeve.

"how are you liking the team so far?" she asks a similar question as I received this morning. I smile to myself before answering truthfully.

"everyone is great. Hotch is kind of terrifying, but I've worked with people like him before." I shrug. he reminds me of one of my old professors: perpetually stoic to the point where he doesn't even seem like a real person. she laughs.

"he's super nice once you get to know him."

"really?" I look up.

"definitely. he's just always got that scowl on his face. don't let it put you off." she pats my hand reassuringly. I sigh, finish chewing my bite. there's been something prodding me since visiting Garcia's tech lair for the first time, when she showed me her collection of puppy calendars and fuzzy pens.

"can I ask you a question?"

"anything, my love." she smiles warmly. I hesitate, hoping I don't ruin the moment somehow.

"how did you get involved in the FBI? you just don't seem very..." my sentence trails off.

"government oriented?" she laughs. "I used to do a lot of hacking in my free time, and I got into some stuff that the government didn't like. and, um-- you know that saying, 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em'?"

I nod.

"it was like that, except they hired me. and I love it." she finishes the last spring roll. I think on this, imagining Penelope doing something so serious that the American government hired her on the spot for her skills. it's interesting.

"so you don't profile at all." I state.

"technically no, but I've picked up a couple things." she smirks.

"oh, yeah? like what?"

"well, it's obvious that you're never home, based on the lack of decoration here." she refers to the mostly blank walls of my apartment. aside from a couple photos of my friends and family, there's not much unique to me. "and you've obviously got a candle addiction." she points to the various spots around the living room, where half-burned pots of wax sit patiently awaiting their next light.

"that's definitely true." I laugh. she gets up and starts to smell the various candles.

"I like this one a lot." she sets down my chai vanilla one. I let her go through my things, despite the fact that Garcia is incredibly reserved about people touching her own little office trinkets. she picks up stray books and memorabilia, occasionally making a comment.

while she does, I finish my curry. I'm way too tired to resist her search, anyway. I'll be curling up in bed soon and praying that tomorrow is a paperwork day. eventually, she settles onto the cushions again.

"you seem tired," she says when she glimpses the dark circles beneath my eyes. "I'll get out of your hair."

"what? oh, I'm sorry." I draw myself up a little more. "this last case just took a lot out of me."

"they all do." she gives me a soft expression, then pats my knee as she stands.

"Penelope." I say as she gathers up her coat and purse.

"yes, darling?"

"thanks. for the food and for coming over." I smile gratefully at her. the tech analyst stands at my door with a look on her face that makes me think we're going to be good friends.

"anytime." she heads out, leaving me on the couch. I stare at the mess of empty takeout boxes that I told her to leave. now that I've eaten, getting up to clean the space is even more difficult. I trudge about the apartment, wash some dishes, and head off to bed.

my body is too exhausted to remember the dreams.

...

"oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I practically sprint into the conference room, swinging my bag down by my feet as I grab the last open chair. JJ is standing at the front of the room with a new case on the screen. everyone stares at me as I settle in. "my train was super delayed."

"everyone is allowed to be late," Hotch barely glances up from the case file. "once."

a chill runs down my spine and my face flushes an embarrassing red as JJ passes me the remaining file. keeping my head down, she notices my discomfort and clears her throat.

"okay, you guys are heading to Arizona today." she clicks a button. some pictures pop up for us to see. "Bradshaw College in Tempe has had six fires in seven months."

it's a video recording of a building from the outside, and two students talking about a fire inside. the camera shifts to show them in their own dorm, examining a strange wet spot leaking into their room. and then one of them catches on fire.

he burns to death on tape. it's jarring, the shrieking noises he lets out as the flames engulf his body. they travel up his legs alarmingly fast, so much so that it's obviously chemical.

"the first fire was in March, the second in May. the third didn't happen until September." JJ explains once the clip is over. "and then two weeks later, there were three that happened in one night."

"he's speeding up." Prentiss observes from her spot next to me.

"82% of arsonists are white males between seventeen and twenty-seven. female arsonists are far less common, with motives usually limited to revenge." Reid sits across the table, adjusting his watch.

I raise my eyebrows at his fact and look more at the crime scene photos. burned flesh is definitely an uncomfortable sight, one that makes my stomach churn.

"sounds like he's a student." Morgan taps his pen against his fingertip and leans back in his chair.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Hotch continues to read the document. "we don't want to rely too much on precedent."

at this, I press my knuckles to my chin and try to think of other suspects. he's obviously doing these during the school year, but that doesn't necessitate that he's a student. he could be working on campus-- a professor, even.

"there's a rapid escalation. he's gone from the damage to a building to something far more satisfying." Morgan closes the file and we all look to Hotch.

"wheels up in thirty." he says. I get up to grab my go-bag and gather some things from my desk, my cheeks burning at the memory of being late again. I've never done that before, but I don't want to start now. maybe it's best if I start coming in early, just in case my train gets delayed again. I can't risk losing this job, or being moved to a different department. it was enough of a hassle switching from sex crimes to the BAU. I really want to settle into this position, and that includes having the unit chief not hate me.

"hey." Prentiss catches my wrist just as I'm hurrying out of the room. I turn to her.

"hi."

"a little birdy told me that you and Reid pretty much single-handedly solved that case yesterday." she smiles.

"oh, no. it wasn't just us." I shake my head.

"quit being modest. nice job." she nudges my shoulder as we walk down the steps to the bullpen. "also, I brought a couple of those horticulture magazines that I told you about. we should read them on the jet."

"no way!" I pause at my desk, grinning.

"one of them has a whole section on caring for orchids."

"orchids?" Morgan overhears her from his desk. he appears deeply concerned with our discussion.

"if you have to ask, you wouldn't understand." she smirks. he turns his attention to me in hopes of a clearer answer.

"it's plant care." my explanation seems to be enough to bore him, however, because he just shrugs and returns to packing his bag up. Emily waves the stack of magazines at me before I head over to her desk.

she doesn't really seem like the type of person to be into it, but when Emily caught sight of the air plants I've got scattered on my desk my first week, we got wrapped up in a conversation about them. there's a special magazine subscription as well that has a bunch of helpful tips about where to buy and how to keep them healthy.

I'm flipping through one of the copies on the way to the elevator, my nose buried in a section about how much to water Hoyas, when Reid and JJ pop in next to me. the blonde is on the phone with someone, presumably the Tempe police. I haven't seen much of her recently-- she's been staying behind for most cases-- but she sends me a sweet smile before returning to her call.

"what are you reading?" Spencer's eyes hungrily run over the paper, as if seeing something he hasn't already absorbed in that big brain is unbearable. his hair is slicked back as usual, and his tie is sort of crooked; he's not aware of it. I hold the material between us so he can take a peek.

"a magazine about plants that Prentiss and I like."

"fascinating. can I see?" he grabs it before I can answer, although I don't think he means to. his fingertip runs down the page quickly, and then he's flipping them like mad, staring at the pictures. my eyes widen at how eager he is; I guess his curiosity is enough to override any awkwardness.

"did you know that owning indoor plants is actually correlated to overall mood improvements?" he asks me once he finishes reading, attention still focused on the back cover. the elevator door to the main level slides open.

"no, but I'm proof of it," I take back the reading material and put it in my bag. we walk out into the lobby. his long legs mean that my pace has to quicken a bit in order to keep up. "something about taking care of them is quite nice. they don't need as much attention as a pet, but they still rely on you."

"interesting." he nods.

"I like to think so."

"maybe I'll get one." he muses more to himself than anyone else. I smile at his open-mindedness, keep my eyes on the tiles we're walking over. maybe he, Prentiss, and I can have our own affinity club. he would become more knowledgeable than both of us combined within the span of a week.

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #dr. reid #criminal minds #mgg #fanfic #fanfiction #wattpad #friends to lovers #BAU #slow burn

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leviskokoro · 4 years

Text

Beloved Master :: Chapter Two

desc :: in which rook shares his findings

word count :: 1332

notes :: i wanted to practice how i wrote in the perspective of different characters because my comfort zone is usually just writing in mari’s pov. i’d really really like feedback on how i wrote rook, vil, and crowley in this.

au belongs to :: @twstedforyou

Rook didn’t have to look up to figure out who was behind him. Those light rhythmic footsteps, the strawberry vanilla scent, and the breathing pattern belonged to none other than his favorite angel. A smile pulled at his lips and greeted her, turning his gaze to her for a better look at her form. He had been in the middle of fixing up the materials that he used for the Science Club when she approached him.

“Petit ange, how wonderful to see you here,” he spoke with a lilt. His hunter green irises scanned her figure, analysing every curve and dip. Her body was more tense as usual, her eyebrows were furrowed in worry, and her lips were pulled in a tight line. It only took him about a second to figure out what her concerns were.

“I see that Monsieur Heart has been on your mind lately. He must be a lucky man to have a lovely woman worrying for him.” His mirthful smile never left his face as he finished up cleaning up the materials in the lab.

Mari’s cheeks dusted a faint red and she averted her gaze. “I take it that you already know he’s been acting weird, correct?” She asked, trying to ignore his comment.

The hunter nodded, remembering how he observed her conversation with the Heartslabyul first year. His keen eye noticed that he seemed to be a different person. Parts of his personality were there, yet this one seemed a lot more mature than the one he was familiar with. His footsteps were a lot lighter than his usual. Plus, his scent wasn’t the one he usually had. He smelled like… a fox.

“Do you happen to know the reason why?” She tilted her head to the side. “Your eyes can see far more than mine do. I figured that you might’ve noticed something.”

He shook his head, blond hair swaying in the motion. “Your words flatter me, petit ange. But unfortunately, I do not know the reason.”

A frown pulled her lips downward and she looked down. “Ah, that’s a shame.”

But Rook placed a finger below her chin and lifted it so that their emerald and andalusite gazes would meet. “Don’t worry your gorgeous head, ma colombe. I’ll observe Monsieur Heart more closely to find the reason for your concerns.”

Mari opened her mouth to reply, a delighted glint in her eyes. But thenㅡ

The door opened, he heard two pairs of distinct footsteps, as well as new scents entering the mix. They belonged to the two first-years that always hung around Mari.

“Oi, Mari! You promised you’d play cards with us after club meeting,” Ace told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her form closer to his. His voice had a needy undertone to it. It was clear to the hunter that the orange-haired junior didn’t want her around him with how he glanced at him, the protective glint in his ruby eyes was clear as day.

“I… did?” Her mouth was agape when she looked at him. Then, she frowned. “Crap, I’m sorry. I must’ve forgotten.”

Ace sighed. “Sheesh, again? You’re lucky you have me looking out for you.”

“We wanted to play in Ramshackle Dorm this time,” Deuce spoke up, his fingers pressed to his chin.

Mari nodded. “That sounds good.” She turned to Rook with a smile. “Sorry to cut this conversation short. I’ll talk to you later.”

Rook returned the gesture, making a dramatic motion with his arms. “I’ll be eagerly awaiting for you, petit ange.”

She giggled and walked off with her friends to her dorm.

The hunter waited in the laboratory for a moment, before smirking.

Time to do field work.

Vil looked at his vice dorm leader with scrutiny. What he heard sounded too outrageous to be true. However, he trusted him to be honest with him, even if that honesty could sometimes be brutal. He remembered the time he just told him “You look fat”. Then he talked about it to Trey, who shared a story about their activity in the Science Club when he told the teacher that the first activity was boring and they ended up getting a much more difficult task, which gave their juniors a bit of trouble.

He sighed. How troublesome. “Make sure to inform the Headmaster about this.” Althoughㅡ it’s not like he’d be of much help, seeing as how he often dumps serious issues regarding the school onto the prefect and the other students.

“Oui, Roi du Poison.” Rook took his hat off, then placed it to his heart. An amused smile on his face. He went off, carrying his bow and arrows. The ones that he often used to send a message.

Vil did not want to get involved in thisㅡ but if what Rook was telling him was correct, then it’s only a matter of time before more of these doppelgangers will arrive. There’s a good chance their own doppelgangers may appear as well. If someone who looked exactly like him were to come to this world, there’s a chance he might ruin his image. He knew he could trust Rook to notice that the doppelganger wasn’t him.

After allㅡ his eyes were more accurate than any scale.

Lilac eyes gazed out the window, watching the night sky. For each star that twinkles, there was a new thought in his head; And each thought was occupied by that girl from another world. She had joined the Movie Appreciation Club as a scriptwriter after Rook had shown him some of her work. While she needed more confidence in herself, she was adapting quite splendidly to the environment of the club.

It’s strangeㅡ Vil didn’t think she’d be the sort that he’d associate himself with. Not really for the reason that she was terrible looking. In fact, she'd be considered quite decent in his eyesㅡ Only needed to remember to do self-care more often. It was more for the mere fact that she was the troublesome sort. She gained quite the reputation for getting into all sorts of trouble ever since she first arrived at Twisted Wonderland, and now this new situation involved her with how the doppelgangers seemed to speak of her, referring to her as their master for some reason.

As a busy man, he’d know better than to be around people that would make things harder for him. But as he came to know her, he realized it wasn’t her fault that these things kept happening to her. The girl just had awful luck, it seemed. He understood how it felt; Being unable to control the wretched fate that befell you.

He sighed, crossing his arms. “You’re just a magnet for trouble, aren’t you?”

Crowley’s concealed eyes scanned the documents on his desk. He’s finally gotten time to investigate more on ways that he could send Mari back home. She’d been bugging him about it for quite a while now, saying things like “I miss my family”. Really, the girl could stand to be more patient. At least he was gracious enough to be looking for her instead of making her do it all on her own.

He looked back down and noticed something interesting. A possible lead, perhaps?

Woosh!

Thunk!

“Eek!” He shrieked when an arrow hit the wooden space on his desk, just above the documents that he held. It felt as though his heart would jump out of his chest. Then, he realized that the arrow had a piece of paper attached to it. Gloved hands took the arrow from the desk and untied the letter from it, unfolding it. Eyes skimmed over the contents of it.

His jaw hit the floor at what he read before promptly picking it back up; he proceeded to grab his phone and call his prefect.

“Hello?”

“Yes, Mari. Where are you? There are these doppelgangers of Trappola and Spade. Be careful wit-”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“... What?”

#twisted wonderland #twst #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #dire crowley

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wide-eyedscottishlass · 3 years

Text

Scarlett and the Professor - poolside sin

[continued from] [contains NSFW material]

Just as he had known she would, Scarlett had melted for him. At the potency and command in the depth of his kiss, and in soft submission to his will. Though she had managed to surprise him again—first, with those sketches of her Greek boy, an eloquent testament to the reality of their relationship (though for Hennessy’s sake she had immediately tried to downplay it, as if he might grow jealous), and then with…well, it had felt to Hennessy as nothing short of her lovingly rendered drawing of himself—she remained wonderfully easy to read. And she was very easy to like, as well; he always got on best with lovers who were smart enough to hold their own with him, even challenge him at times, and after her initial timidity those few weeks ago (has it only been that long, he wondered) the vitality of her mind had asserted itself in some entertaining and satisfying ways.

There was much about her to view favorably. Such a very bright girl, with a sharp wit when she chose to display it. A gentle, kind, and very loving nature. Scarlett was soft in all the right places, too; not just in how she surrendered to him, but in the quiet way she clung to him afterwards, making no demands but that most elementary, unspoken one of simply laying with him flesh on flesh. No need for silly chatter in the afterglow, nor the trite habit he sometimes encountered, of lovers asking for promises of devotion and loyalty. And as he had discerned from their first liaison on the beach, Scarlett could be obedient almost to a fault, and possessed a keen need to please authority figures such as himself. Hennessy had initially suspected she had daddy issues, and my oh my, she had confirmed that with a few passing references to a perpetually absent father. In that aspect, she seemed custom made just for him.

Most intriguing of all was a well of passion, which—despite her naivete—dwelt within her to an as yet indeterminate depth. Oh, he would learn that depth before he was finished with her. He most certainly would. The Leviathan that cruised his own depths had been quiet through their weekend together, not unusual as Hennessy had only just broken beneath her surface. But inevitably, it would find its voice and seek release—meaning that he must discover before then if Scarlett was meet enough to satisfy his wickedest hungers. And if she would revel as much in his darker predilections as she had already learned to in the sensual lessons he had already schooled her in.

When he’d released her from that kiss, her eyes had remained closed, her face soft with that dreamy expression which he had begun to covet. Hennessy allowed himself a moment to enjoy it, before he gave voice to an observation. “Darling, you’re pinking up a bit—you might want to apply some sunscreen.” She blinked open her eyes at his unexpected comment. “I’d hate to see you burn that creamy skin of yours.”

Scarlett gave a little ‘oh’, enough to make it clear that hadn’t even occurred to her. Leaving him wearing a small, indulgent smile. “You can fetch a tube from the cabana, little lamb—and I’ll even do your back for you, alright?” Goddamn, how pleasant and surprisingly natural it felt to take care of her! As though she was custom made to rouse that tendency in him as well.

He’d made quick work of it, too, quietly pleased when she hummed softly beneath the care of his hands, then moaned when he ran his fingertips onto the outside swell of her breasts. “All set now, love,” he teased against her ear, even as he slid the backs of his fingers along her ribs and down to her waist, before throwing her a little off balance by simple letting go—for surely she had expected more. Scarlett turned in time to see him give the tube of sunscreen a one-handed toss and catch it deftly, while he grinned at her innocently, and then headed to the cabana to put it away. The look of surprise and wee confusion on her face was priceless, perfect fuel for the little game he had in mind.

Exiting the cabana, he saw that she’d settled back into her chair and was staring at the sketchpad in her hands, though she hadn’t taken up her pencil yet. Hennessy slipped of his pool slides at the shallow end of the pool, right above the set of underwater stairs, then meandered over to the far end, giving her a chance to grow curious enough to watch him. When he was sure he had her attention, he dived right into the deep from the pool’s edge, swimming along the bottom for about two-thirds the length of the pool before surfacing for a deep breath. Scarlett was tracking his movements almost surreptitiously, her pencil just hovering over the paper. Gottcha, he thought smugly, it’ll be just a few minutes more, and you’ll be joining me for some very wet fun, m’dear.

As a further enticement—certain that she was bound to be entranced by the powerful strokes of his long arms cleaving through the water—Hennessy propelled himself towards the shallow end, turning underwater and pushing off the wall, and then swam three full laps before coming to lean against the ledge, facing Scarlett.

But there she was, presenting him a third surprise—for she sat engrossed in whatever she was drawing, paying him no heed, so that he finally had to call out for her attention. “Scarlett…darling,” he aimed to sound casual, “Come cool off in the water with me.” She gave a rather insouciant tilt of her head, and it occurred to him that she was playing hard to get. Perhaps in reply to the way he’d left off so abruptly after applying her sunscreen. This was a delicious, albeit unexpected, turn—though he knew that she would easily give in if her were to use his voice of command. Let’s see how far she is willing to take this…

Hennessy propped his elbows on top of the pool ledge, then entwined his fingers to rest his chin upon them, becoming the picture of patience before calling to her again, “The water is very refreshing, my pet…and I’d love for you to join me.”

This time she looked up and gave a little shrug so that he smiled and crooked his finger to beckon her over. Scarlett gave an exaggerated sigh, blinking at him in faux innocence, then began to tuck her art supplies back into her rucksack. Slowly and with much deliberation, purposely making him wait. Her recalcitrance was turning him on in a way he hadn’t yet experienced with her, and the sudden image of her splayed across his knees as he prepared to spank her bare bottom in retribution, flashed across his mind’s eyes. Bringing his hardening prick to full attention.

She stood up and launched into a long, languid stretch, reaching her arms above her head, then bending at the waist to touch her toes, before shimmying out of her capris. Highly amused, Hennessy bit his lip against commenting just yet, for he was busy picturing how hard he was going to rail her when she finally joined him in the pool.

And then she was drawing near, smiling sweetly as her shadow fell across him—surely unaware of the wicked turn his thoughts had taken—to stand just out of his reach. Naughty Scarlett! He t’sked at her brazen disregard for his directives, even as her surprising behavior was working on him like some powerful aphrodisiac. She indulged in a dramatic sigh, then turned without a word, walking towards the deep end, sparing him a single, backward glance and a coy little smile, on her way to the diving board.

Hennessy watched with growing fascination as Scarlett mounted the board, wearing an expression of intense concentration upon her lovely features. She took several deep breaths as she stepped onto the board, then briefly closed her eyes as she stood stock still, clearly preparing herself to dive, and then moved rapidly to the end. Once, twice, thrice, she bounced, gaining height with each spring of the board, and then flawlessly executed an open pike dive, entering the water with the barest of splashes, and then swimming the full length of the pool floor without coming up for air until she reached him. Emerging prettily—as if there was nothing to it—as sleek and as wet as an otter, confident in the wake of her skillful display, and eyeing him impudently.

Gobsmacked for several seconds, Hennessy drew in a long, whistling breath, truly impressed with the grace with which she had moved through the water. A natural grace that affirmed that water was her element—perhaps as much hers as it was his own. “Christ, Scarlett,” he exclaimed, “That explains how you can hold your breath so well. You must be part water nymph after all!”

She dunked her head beneath the surface, then broke though again, leaving her neck and shoulders submerged. “Now you’re just teasing me, Professor,” she pouted, though her eyes told him what his compliments actually meant to her. Without waiting for his reply, Scarlett was off again, slicing through the water on her way back to the deep end, quickly flipping into an Olympic quality turn, to swim effortlessly back to the shallows.

Twice more she showed him the same neat trick, arriving back in front of him barely winded, all wide-eyed and lustrous, and looking so very ripe for the taking that he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing hold of her arm and hauling her close. “And now you’re teasing me, little lamb. Awakening the wolf inside me.” He was breathing heavily, his voice raw with the lust she had conjured, “A very hungry wolf, at that…” He grabbed her chin with his other hand and kissed her roughly, then pressed his forehead to hers, “Hungry enough to devour you, Scarlett. Is that what you were hoping for?”

Left speechless by his fervor, she nodded and swallowed hard, finally managing a breathless reply. “I think…I think with you, I…I always hope for hunger. Does that…make me wicked too?”

Hennessy gripped her by the shoulders, rumbling from a deep place in his chest, “That makes you perfect for me, love. It makes you mine.” When he took her mouth again he pulled her under the water with him and held her chained to his kiss, only surfacing so they could both draw desperate, heaving breaths.

Scarlett’s eyes had gone their widest and she watched him, mesmerized as he cupped a hand against her cheek. I’d bet that your pretty Greek boy never kissed you like that. Or that you ever looked at him like you’re looking at me now. “Say it for me, Scarlett,” he demanded, “Say what you know to be true.”

She blinked several times and chewed on her bottom lip, hesitating only briefly as she searched for the words he expected to hear. “That,” she panted, “That I’m yours.” Scarlett breathed a heavy sigh, closed her eyes, and nestled against his palm, her relief clear in both her voice and expression, “I’m yours...my jo.”

“Exactly so.” Hennessy rested his free hand on the side of her neck, noting the rapid pace of her pulse, while taming the feral edge to his voice—though it seemed every nerve in his body was alive with his need consume her. “You are mine, and mine alone. In this time and in this place, and for however long it pleases me to have it so.” That she showed no fear of such an absolute concept—that she even greeted it with a small, quiet smile—placated to a degree, the hungry beast lurking at his core. He placed his lips against her ear, relishing the little shiver she gave at the hot kiss of his breath on her tender skin, “And this is not by my will alone, little lamb, is it? It’s what you wanted of me from that very first love note you left on my desk.”

“Yes…oh, yes.” She sounded almost grateful to share her illicit secret. “It was like some…dark magic came over me. Like I recognized you in the moment I saw you—and that all the choices of my life had led me right to…you.”

Though lust still thundered through his blood, Hennessy held himself in check long enough to nuzzle her ear and then her cheek. Soft-voiced, he assured her, “You’re precious to me, Scarlett. I hadn’t expected that to happen. Not so soon, anyway.” She gave a little moan, which pleased him well again. “I can taste your trust in me in your every kiss, and that is precious to me too.”

Scarlett wrapped her arms around his neck, shivering with need despite the balmy air, molding her body to his, ready to give herself over to his will once more. Stoking his determination to take everything she was. This time he kissed her without need to pull her under, and with nothing to prove to either of them. Doing his best to go slowly, though inevitably raw hunger overtook them both.

He had been kissing her face, her neck, her shoulders, as she let her head fall back; sucking the water from her sweet flesh, even as his urgency mounted and he moved them towards the pool wall. Once he had her there, Hennessy pulled away only so that he could shed his swim tee and toss it onto the ground behind her. Scarlett raised her arms above her head, inviting him to do the same for her, and then purred deep in her throat when he was able to flex his powerful hands around her bare breasts. Sinking lower in the water, he took one hard bud between his teeth, while tweaking the other between his fingers, thriving on the moans that were her reply. He swirled the tip of his tongue around her areola and then greedily pulled her into his mouth to feast upon. Her smooth moan drew his eyes up to hers, to see her nod ‘yes’, to see her nod ‘more’, so that he began to suck harder. Pulling her ever deeper. Suckling on her so vigorously that she hissed and shot her hands into his hair, while moaning his name unrepentantly.

Hennessy dove his right hand down, first parting her thighs, and then slipping it inside her bikini bottom, reaching for that precious nub he’d learned so well. Using the thick pad of his thumb to work her as he moved to take her other nipple deep into his mouth. Absorbing the incredible, sinful sounds rising from her chest, sounds purely for him. Triumphant in knowing no man had ever drawn such sounds from her before, and surprised to feel himself grow even greedier for more.

As much as he loathed to part from her again for even a moment, need drove him to it; though he kept his gaze upon her, he only let go long enough to pull off his trunks, while Scarlett tugged off her bottoms. Hennessy held out his hands and she came to him at once; he grabbed her hips and using the waters buoyancy, he lifted her enough so that she could drape her legs around him. A moment more and he was using one hand to align the head of his cock with her opening, and then thrusting up into her as he pulled her down onto him. The pool water had been wonderfully warm, but Scarlett’s heat surrounding him was heavenly. Her walls enclosing him perfectly while she sucked the water from his skin, all along his collarbone, and then danced her tongue from his Adam’s apple down to the hollow of his throat.

She was clinging to him, giving out sharp huffs of air at each of his hard thrusts, but having no traction, she could only rotate her hips for him, so that he cupped her bottom in his hands, sinking his fingers into her firm flesh. “That’s right, baby…that’s the way…” he panted, backing her against the wall again, enabling him to grind up and into her mercilessly, eventually finding their ideal rhythm. Fucking her hard while she dug her fingers into his back.

Soon, her mouth fell open against him, and she was moaning louder and louder with each of his thrusts, driving him on in equal measure to the divine sensation of her walls pulsing around him, gripping him tight. “Scream for me, Scarlett…if you need to, baby…shout to the heavens, if you will…”

When she did, it was spectacular, crying out his name like an unholy prayer, her heady moans become wicked as she begged him please, to never stop. “Fuck me hard, my jo…fuck me forever!” So shockingly un-Scarlett like, yet exactly what his soul craved to hear.

Hennessy opened his eyes, wanting to mark her singular beauty in the throes of their excessive sin—and was struck to the marrow by how utterly his she had become. Exactly as he had wanted, but like a thing that had eluded him his whole life. Making him need her, even more than the wanting. Desperately needing to feel the clench of her muscles—at the height of her ecstasy—surround his throbbing cock, needing her to cum hard and milk him dry. Needing to drown in her…in her love.

And when he commanded her to, she did—oh, she did because he deemed it so—and so beautifully, so hard that it felt like a rocket imploding, and he followed hard upon, buried as deep inside her as he could get. Suddenly, there were words rising up from his chest, but Hennessy caught them quickly in his throat, while his Scarlett was cooing her bliss, unmindful of his uncharacteristic struggle.

Catching those dreaded words before they could escape and make everything too complicated, and make him appear weak and ordinary in his precious lover’s eyes. He would not, could not, feel them or speak them aloud. Even if they were a product of truth, and not just his hormones. They would destroy the dynamic of his life, the life he’d worked so religiously to build for himself.

Besides, he’d have to put Scarlett aside, should he say them—for he certainly did not feel them. Especially not now, no matter how mind blowing it had been, not when he had been made vulnerable by what they had just shared. Not now, when the apotheosis of pleasure had laid his soul bare. Hennessy was far from ready to forsake all the glorious promise of her young, nubile body, nor the astonishing softness of her heart, which she had proven ever ready to lavish upon him. He bit his tongue and tucked his face into her neck, while she smoothed gentle fingers against his hair, and they rode out the last waves of shared ecstasy together.

“Hennessy,” she whispered at last, several minutes having passed with only silence between them and his head still resting on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

He nodded, groaning against her skin, his mind still hazy in the aftermath of not only their extraordinary physical experience, but as much from the jumble of emotions he had needed to deny and then try to lock away. “I’m fine, Scarlett,” he told her, regretfully lifting away from the welcome haven in the crook of her neck, feeling too drained of energy to give any thought to the dilemma that he had just withstood. “Perfectly fine.”

Hennessy realized that given her remarkably sensitive nature that Scarlett would sense, perhaps even feel, the change in him. But it couldn’t be helped. She had intimated more than once her vivid and quite literal dread of going too deep into dark, unknown waters. Well, there were deep, treacherous waters of his own, which he had vowed long ago to avoid. A mere forty-eight hours---not even that long yet---spent indulging in her charms, no matter how beguiling, were simply not enough to tempt him to tread there.

He pressed a perfunctory kiss to her cheek and then backed away, submerging into the water as though cleansing himself of those things he would deny. When he surfaced, Hennessy caught her eye long enough to see he’d left her perplexed, and even a little hurt.

That’s as it must be---and what choice does she have otherwise, he decided, rolling over to take a leisurely lap to the far end of the pool; the only promise he’d made, beyond those of the sins he would teach her, was that their affair would never broach the boundaries of his black and solitary heart. It’s best you remember that promise now, little lamb. If not, what heartache you may suffer will not be my fault to bear.

(to be continued)

tagging: @strangelock221b @ben-locked @thelostsmiles @splunge4me2art @ben-c-group-therapy @tsukuyomi011 @humanbornarchangel @emilyinnj4real @letterstosherlock @aeterna-auroral-avenger @frowerssx2 @groovyfluxie @ravencatart @doctor-stephenstrange @candiegirl-22

#my writing #Scarlett and the Professor #passion #lust #romance #Scarlett Campbell #OFC #her ancient Selkie blood #her devilish lover #Scarlett's Professor #OMC #not my OMC and used with permission #as long as tacit permission remains #Professor Hennessy #Hennessy

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mtherhino · 4 years

Text

One Side, Two Lives

Chapter Three

First Previous Next

Hello Brother Dearest!

Warning: mention of eating disorder, swearing, and Remus being Remus

What a wonderful morning. Not. Roman rolled out of bed, literally. He groaned as he got up from the floor and wandered around his room. It was early, maybe around four or something, he honestly couldn’t care too much. Being the ego really sucked sometimes, because if Thomas was feeling horrible and like he wasn’t worth anything, Roman might as well have caught a bad case of the flue. He had woken up with a sore throat and such a stuffy nose that he could barely breath.

“Why, just why must I be the ego?” Roman complained to no one as he messed with his already crazy hair. He sighed, guess I better go get some kind of medicine. He was so out of it that he didn’t even try to conceal his appearance to any others that might be up at that time.

He walked out of his room and lazily walked to the main room. Although the sides did have their own bathrooms and medicines, all of Roman’s was pain pills and and antidotes for different poisons. You’d be surprised what he finds on is adventures, Remus doesn’t exactly know the meaning of “harmless creatures”.

Because of this, their was a bigger medicine cabinet that was open to anyone, Logan made sure that this was put it to place a while ago when Roman came back from a a small adventure and was severely poisoned and out of medicine. To say that he gave some of the others a scare would be a bit of an understatement; though he didn’t really know any of this since he was out cold for the next three days.

When he got to the main room he was a bit surprised to see the anxious side sleeping on the couch curled up with his headphones still on. He was snoring softly and Roman, even sick, couldn’t help but smile at him. He’s like a little cat, so cute. Roman grabbed a blanket that was on one of the other seats and and carefully used it to cover the smaller side.

After that he went over to the cabinet and got the medicine labeled “ego boost”. He hated taking these, they weren’t supposed to lessen depression, they sorta just put Roman in a state of neutral at times like this, supposedly if he takes too many Thomas will think he can do literally anything, and that would be incredibly dangerous. He sighed as he took only half of the small pills, this should lessen his symptoms while still keeping his mental state the same.

After taking it he went back to his room and laid down in his bed. He needed to to get to work but he was just felt so dead right now, he could take a a little break right now right? Your so pathetic, can’t even work though a little cold?

“Shut up you asshole…” and Roman was out like a light.

He woke up a few hours later with a start when something large and stinky jumped on his bed.

“Who goes there?!” He said, a sword materializing in his hand. Not a second after two daggers met his sword.

“Hello brother dearest!” The owner of the daggers shouted. Roman squinted in his lightly dark room and made out the shape of an insane smile and green eyes. He groaned and flopped back onto his bed.

“Hello Remus.”

“What’s wrong Robro? Usually you start yelling at me already for being on your bed” Remus said in a concerned voice. Roman, who had previously had his arm draped over his head, looked up and saw that his brother had mud splattered on his shirt and pants, which was starting to get on his bed. Once again he groaned and without being able to think of a more polite way, he simply kicked his brother of his bed to stop any further damage to his sheets.

“I’m sick Re, its not very fun” he complained to his brother. The green side was about to jump back onto the bed when Roman shot him a glare that could kill. Although he could probably get away from his brother in the state he was in, Remus decided to do the nice thing and snapped away his usual outfit leaving him in some shorts and a green tank top that had the image of a broken heart on it, after that he jumped back onto the bed and laid next to his brother.

“Is this because of the debate from yesterday? Ego a little low bro?” Roman just gave a small nod to tell his brother he was right. He hated being sick, but he had to do something or else he would defiantly feel worse tomorrow, at least emotionally. He sighed as he sat up and walked over to his work desk, if he was a little wobbly he wouldn’t admit it. He looked over the many projects he needed to finish but his mind could barely register any of them.

“You know as much fun as it would be to see you fall on your face five times trying too work, I think you should sit down.” Remus said forcing his brother to sit back on his bed.

“I’m going to go grab you something to eat and if I find out you tried to work I’m hitting you in the head with my morning star. “ he said before he left his brother in his room.

He quickly rose up into the dark sides part of the mind palace and grabbed a couple of snacks. A bole of popcorn, a few juice boxes, two apples balancing on his head, and finally a stick of deodorant stuffed under his arm.

As he walked back to Roman’s room he was careful to avoid the others. He wasn’t afraid of anyone, he was creativity, one of the strongest sides, but he wanted to make a big appearance soon and he didn’t want to spoil that by one of the light sides seeing him.

Once he did get back to his brother’s room he saw Roman trying to sneak his way over to his desk to work. Not having any of this, Remus stuck out his foot and tripped him, summoning a pillow so that he wouldn’t hit his head to hard.

“I told you not to move, you’re sick and you’re not going to be good for anyone if you don’t take the time to get better.” Roman sighed in defeat and got off of the ground, though he was tempted to just lay there and fall asleep.

“Fine, you win Re, but what the hell am I supposed to do in the meantime? You know I hate doing nothing.” Roman said as he flopped on the bed.

“Well you can start by eating,” Remus said, and just before Roman could interject he continued , “I know you haven’t eaten anything today so don’t even try to lie to me.” Roman faked offense, “I would never! I’m the heroic prince, I would never lie.” He said with a smile. Remus snorted at that.

“Yah, and I’m as strait as a ruler, we can do this all day Ro” he retorted. The siblings where used to small squabbles, it was just how they were, honestly it would be concerning if they didn’t get into some kind of argument already.

After their little argument, they decided to have a movie day. Roman of course voted that they watch a Disney movie with a good bit of action, Remus on the other hand wanted to watch a horror movies with lots of gore. Compromising, they decided to to watch an animated DC movie of Remus’s choice that had enough people getting killed to satisfy him.

They were having a fairly good time all in all, but unfortunately for Roman it did not go unnoticed that he wasn’t eating much.

“I swear Roman if you don’t start eating more I will stab you in the gut, one time for every meal you missed.” Remus scolded his brother. Roman rolled his eyes saying that stabbing him wouldn’t be any better for his health, Remus said it would remind him to eat regularly.

“Look Remus, I know you worry about me and I worry about you, but I promise you I’m fine. I don’t go a day where a don’t eat something.” Roman said. It was true, after a very heated argument with his brother a few months ago Roman had made sure to eat a little something each day, even if that something was just a handful of grapes.

Remus sighed, “I know brother but with how much you go adventuring the little amount of food you eat might as well be nothing.”

“Hey, you go out adventuring as much as I do and you eat deodorant for breakfast.” And accidentally proving Roman’s point, Remus took another bite of his favorite flavor of deodorant before glaring at his brother.

“Maybe but you know I eat three meals a day even if those meals aren’t the healthiest. Come on Roman, I’m just trying to make sure you don’t accidentally hurt yourself.” Remus said with the softest look he could muster. Roman sighed in defeat, he hated making others feel bad and being a burden on them. Maybe if he just played along he could convince his brother that he was doing better.

“Okay ok, I promise I’ll do a better job of taking care of myself, what kind of prince would I be if I make others worry for nothing. Can we move on to a different conversation now?” Roman said starting to feel uncomfortable as they continued to talk about his flaws. Remus, sensing his twins discomfort smiled a smile that was a bit to wide and moved onto something else.

“Ok Ro, what have you been working on recently?” Remus said, he knew full well how much Roman like to tell about whatever project he was on. To his immense surprise Roman sighed heavily and flopped onto his back.

“I’ve got a few things that I’m exited to get working on, but currently I’m just feeling a bit overloaded with having to come up with whatever we’re doing in the next Sander Sides video” Roman complained. He only ever complained to his brother since he knew that Remus would figure out what was bugging him wether he told him or not.

Remus considered this and walked over at Roman’s desk that laid on the other side of the bed. There were papers thrown everywhere on it and some of them had a small red x in the corner which he could only guess meant ‘scrap it’ considering his brother’s perfectionist mental state.

I really need to help him work on his self esteem, the self conscious bastard. Remus thought to himself. Well, he couldn’t do much now, but maybe he could buy his brother a bit of time.

“Hey Ro!” He suddenly exclaimed, makingRoman jump a bit. “I’ve got a great news. I was planing for it to be a bit of a surprise but whatever. I’m going to introduce myself to Thomas in the next video!” That got Roman to pay attention.

“Really?! Heck yah! No offense to the others but things will be way more interesting with you around!” Roman was as exited about the idea as Remus. They always had to be careful with their meet ups because of the whole light sides and dark sides thing, but if Remus introduces himself to Thomas it would make a lot more sense if he just popped up in the lights sides area every now and then.

“Of course things will be more interesting, its me where talking about” and just to emphasize his point, Remus plucked off his head and held it under his arms, wearing a smile the whole time. Roman gaged at the display and warned his brother about getting blood on his carpet, even though he himself had done so many a times. Once Remus screwed his head back on, literally, he sat down and explained that he was probably going to give Thomas a light nightmare and then show up when he asks the others to appear to talk about the dream.

Although Roman was not a fan of scaring Thomas in any way, it sounded like a fairly good plan. It would give reason for Remus to appear and Thomas was already having some trouble sleeping thinking about the missed call back and all.

“Sound like a good plan brother, but Thomas is already having nightmares quite often so your probably going to want to make a move sooner than later before we discus the nightmare problem.” Roman said. Remus nodded a bit, understanding the reasoning.

“Alright, he has to make some kind of video two days from now right? Ill just show up the night before so that he makes it a Sander Sides.”

“It’s going to be hard to pretend like we hate each other.” Roman said, the two have been putting up a charade of hatred for each other their entire lives, but it was a lot harder to act like you hate someone when you’re around them and just want to act like siblings.

“Yah, but it should be fine, it can’t be that hard to act like I want to kill you.” Remus said playfully, but he made a mistake in that moment, he shoved Roman in the ribs.

Roman hissed in pain and put a hand to his side. Remus pulled back, that was a really light hit, but he acted like his ribs are- Remus’s face turned into a scowl as he figured it out.

“Roman…” Roman froze at his brother’s voice. Well, I’m screwed. He slowly turned to his brother with a nervous smile. Even though they were the same height Remus seemed to tower over him and Roman knew he was not getting out of this one. “Hey brother, something the mater?” Roman said, his voice shaking and still keeping up his smile.

“Did you get hurt and not tell me dear brother?” Remus said with one of his creepiest smiles.

The two usually helped one another when they get hurt, so when either of them didn’t tell the other, someone got a very harsh scolding.

“Um, maybe? I just went for a walk in the imagination and got hurt a little bit” Roman said rubbing the back of his neck.

“How badly?” Remus asked.

“Oh, not very badly, just a few broken ribs.” Roman answered looking anywhere but his brother. Remus, still smiling like a maniac, put his hands to his mouth, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in.

“HOW IN THE WORLD ARE YOU SUCH A FREAKING IDIOTIC MORON!” Remus yelled as he shook his brother back and forth.

“I thought I could handle it! I just fought the manticore chimera for a bit and got nocked into a wall. But after that I came right back and wrapped my ribs and got some ice so I’m fine now!” He stated as he tried to defend himself.

“That doesn’t mater you idiot! First of all, you shouldn’t have fought the manticore by yourself you asshole! Secondly you should have come to me when you got hurt! What if it hadn’t been a clean break and a piece had cut up your insides or something!”

“That’s not how humans work!”

“That’s not important right now! You should be resting for a lot longer than one day! Your sick and you have broken ribs! That is a very bad combo!”

“Look, I didn’t mean for things to go as badly as it did, I wanted to blow off some steam and I was off my game a bit.”

Remus sighed heavily.

“Look Roman that’s not the point. How would you feel if I got seriously hurt and and didn’t tell you?” Roman thought about that for a second, he figured that he would probably scream at his brother for getting hurt for an hour of more.

“I guess I would yell at you until you couldn’t hear anymore.” Roman admitted. He thought that he could pull of the act to not make Re worried, but it looked like he failed at that as much as everything else in his life.

“Look, just, come to me when you have a problem. We both got issues and we need to deal with them. It’s better for us to put them out into the open instead of trying to hide them and us finding out later.” Roman sighed and agreed with his brother.

“I get it, if I get hurt this badly again I’ll go to you for help” Roman said, crossing his fingers behind his back. “Can we move onto a different subject now, I could really use a break from real life for a while.”

“Not quite yet brother, you have to promise me you won’t be doing too much until your ribs are at least partially healed.”

“That’s going to take at least three weeks before they are completely healed!”

“Just get some medicine from Logan and take some of your ego pills, you’ll be good in a two weeks tops” Remus said.

“Maybe but we have to do a video before then remember, it was your plan.” Roman pointed out with an annoyed scowl on his face. Remus seemed to think that fact over a bit, then you could practically see the lightbulb appear over his head.

“What if I knock you out for most of the video?”

Roman’s brain short circuited for a minute. “What?”

“Just listen. I could pretend to hit you in the head with my morning star and then you could just pretend to be knocked out for the rest of the video! You can get some sleep and rest while it gives me a more dramatic appearance, its perfect!” Roman did not think this was the best solution they could come up with, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get Remus to change his mind.

“Fine, if you really think this is the best option.” Roman said. He couldn’t help but give a small smile when his brother lifted his arm in the air proclaiming victory as loudly as he could. The rest of the day the two went over the plan and Remus’s song to make sure everything went right. Roman smiled as Remus started singing “Forbidden Fruit”, I guess having a manic for a brother isn’t so bad.

Finally! I been dying to start writing for Remus. I hope all the people with brothers or sisters could recognized the fear of getting in trouble with them. Well, that all for now humans, have a lovely day, bye!

Tag list

@lovelivingmydreams

#creativitwins #roman sanders #remus sanders #duke sanders #princy sanders #virgil sanders #pride!roman #sander sides #thomas sanders #mention of gore #slight mention of eating disorder #my writting

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tamakiamajikistentacles · 4 years

Text

Fucking Hormones {KiriBaku}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! This is pretty much pure crack born from this post I made that kind of blew up? Hopefully this is a good crossover to sate your KiriBaku needs!

Bakugo had a vivid imagination. Growing up as an only child and travelling with his parents kind of necessitated it. When he was a kid he had spent long hours both in his parents’ office and on planes letting his imagination run wild. It was why he had the design of his hero costume six years before he had ever stepped foot onto UA’s campus for the entrance exam and how he already knew what color the walls would be painted when he opened his own agency (Pantone 360 C, thank you very much).

As he grew older though, that particular attribute had evolved from creating future plans to creating fantasy lovers once he hit puberty. Nameless, faceless, and oftentimes sexless, he imagined hands on him and his hands tracing over curves and dips of muscle depending on the night; sometimes they fucked him, sometimes he fucked them. Either way it played out, there was no name to shout or eye color he could manifest to look into.

Until one night in his dorm room when he came so hard with his best friend’s name on his tongue that he thought he’d blackout. He’d had the image of red hair and red eyes and sharp teeth in his head as he concentrated on the idea that his hand wasn’t his own but rather that of the classmate next door.

The initial bliss from release didn’t last long, panic flooding his system as he realized that he was fantasizing about Kirishima. There had never been a specific person in his thoughts before and the fact that he enjoyed it more when he was thinking of that stupid grin on his face? He was fucked. Absolutely fucking fucked.

He grabbed his discarded shirt and wiped himself clean, yanking his sweats back up his legs and trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do next because holy shit, this was not what he’d expected when he’d settled into his bed less than half an hour ago to jerk off. There was no doubt that Kirishima was his best friend and kind of the only person he could stand being around voluntarily for more than twenty minutes and that he was tan and muscled and—shit.

“This night can’t possibly get worse,” he murmured, pressing the heel of his hand against his temple.

Then his balcony doors flew open with a deafening crash, shuddering in the sudden wind that swept through his room under the moonlight. He jumped to his feet with his heart hammering in his chest, turning between the balcony and another loud bang from his bathroom door flying open and hitting the wall. Crackling lightening clouded his vision as thunder boomed.

He was under attack literally two minutes removed from cumming, what the fuck—

“Hello, my cheesy little rigatoni,” a sultry voice purred from the bathroom doorway.

“WHO IN THE FUCK ARE YOU?” he shouted, sweatpants slung low on his hips and his palms igniting for the fight that was sure to come.

A feminine chuckle filled his ears as a furry creature emerged from his bathroom, long auburn hair seeming to grow fuller as it shifted in the breeze and pink painted lips smirking devilishly as she grew closer. Cloven hooves clicked on the hardwood floor and yet somehow the one thing that registered to him as disturbing was the ample bust covered in brown fur.

“I’m your hormone monstress, sweetheart. You can call me Connie because you and me?”—she gestured between them— “We’re gonna have a lot of fun together.”

His eye twitched. “I ain’t the fun type and I sure as hell don’t need some…some… whatever the fuck you are giving me shit about jerking off!”

“Now that’s no way to speak to the one who’s going to guide you through these changes.”

“Guide me though…? Newflash, bitch: I’ve gone through puberty. Just listen to my voice, fuck! Do I sound like my balls haven’t dropped yet?”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and her blue eyes held indifference. “Honey it’s not my fault breaking into the Japanese market was hard and then caused a backlog. Even if assignments come in late I still gotta do ‘em.”

“Are you absolutely fucking kidding me? I DON’T NEED YOU!”

“If you want help getting in the pants of that boy who’s name you just shouted while shuckin’ corn then I think you do,” she tempted, watching his jaw set. “What’s his name, now? Kirishima?”

“Do not say his name,” he warned with a threatening point of his finger.

“C’mon now honey,” she said, hopping up to sit on his desk and crossing one leg over the other. “We’ve got to get planning because the five-finger shuffle isn’t gonna keep you happy for long when all you want is that boy’s hand down your pants.”

Bakugo stared at her for a long moment before looking down at his hands and then over his shoulder to his open balcony doors. Then, with a nod of conviction, he moved to close the balcony doors and slipped back under his blankets.

“I’ve gone fucking insane,” he murmured as he closed his eyes. He was having a weird as shit lucid dream after blacking out from that orgasm. All he had to do was fall asleep in this dream and he would wake up alone. And when he woke up this walking pair of furry tits would be gone and cum would be flaking off of his skin.

She was not gone.

At least, not permanently. It was like she just materialized next to him when his dick even so much as twitched when he thought something inappropriate about Kirishima.

The first time it happened was in training the day after she’d first appeared. They had all been rotating sparring partners, and when he was paired with Kirishima and had him pressed against the ground for the five count the redhead smiled excitedly.

“Man, you’re the best even without your quirk! Seriously so manly!”

Bakugo scoffed, waving him off to where his water bottle sat. “And don’t you ever forget it, Shitty Hair.”

As the laughter of his friend faded he felt a soft brush at the base of his neck, whirling around ready to fight whatever classmate decided to touch him. Instead, though, he came face to face with what he thought had been another creation of his imagination.

The monstress who’d introduced herself as Connie the night prior stood before him in a UA training jacket unzipped to show off her cleavage and her hair pulled high in a ponytail atop her head.

“What the fuck—”

“Oh sugar, you may think that hair’s shitty but I bet it’s good enough to pull when he’s between your thighs and those teeth? Mmm, just imagine ‘em givin’ a nice little nibble to your—"

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU HORNED BITCH!”

A jolt of panic ran through him when he realized that his classmates might not be able to see her. They were going to think he was absolutely off his rocker screaming at nothing. But when he surveyed the training grounds he saw that no one was paying him any mind.

“Believe it or not I’m not big on audiences,” she cooed into his ear.

And that’s how he spent his days going forward—paranoid of her popping out of thin air to tease him about Kirishima unknowingly making his heart jump into his throat or making his pants feel tighter. It didn’t happen every time (she would’ve never left his side then, honestly) but it happened enough that he legitimately contemplated labeling her as a villain. She made his life hell just like one with all her antics.

It had been an exam day in Cementoss’ literature class, their task to complete twelve multiple choice questions and two open-ended prompts. He’d read the material and taken plenty of notes to breeze through it with only one multiple choice that he wasn’t entirely sure of. So with nothing better to do he surveyed his classmates, spying Kaminari nervous and breathing heavily with Kirishima sat behind him concentrating on the paper in front of him harder than Bakugo had ever seen. He’d helped him study so it was nice to see he was putting all his effort into doing well.

But when his tongue darted out to wet his lips time slowed to a crawl and suddenly he was feeling very, very warm as that tongue stayed poking out of the corner of his mouth.

“He looks like the type who just knows how to use his tongue, virgin or not,” the monstress whispered from his left, and when he whipped around to face her he saw that she was perched on the windowsill wearing reading glasses and skimming over the text they were being quizzed on. “Do you think he’s the type to be excited and quick or slow and enjoy bein’ a lil tease?”

Bakugo snapped his pen in half.

Then there was the evening in the common room when the entire class had gathered for an ice cream party because sure, a bunch of teenagers definitely needed all that sugar on a Wednesday night. Though it wasn’t terrible to be sat amongst Kirishima, Kaminari, Jiro, Ashido, and Sero as they talked about strategic costume alterations and he savored the cinnamon ice cream in his bowl. It was fairly calm until he heard the grating sound of Kirishima’s straw trying to get every last bit of his milkshake, and he looked up to tell him to knock it off but froze when he saw the redhead’s cheeks slightly puffed out from the treat and a trail of vanilla dripping from his lips and down his chin.

Pressing the cold bowl in his hands against the crotch of his pants didn’t do as much as he hoped, especially when Kirishima swallowed loudly and wiped the drip from his face with two fingers, promptly sucking it off a moment later and declaring with a laugh that he may have brain freeze.

“Hmm,” he heard from beside him, turning to find Connie with her own strawberry cone in hand, “I think we both know that what you’ve got for him wouldn’t give him brain freeze. He looks good with a little something on his face, don’t you think?”

Fuck yes he did but he wasn’t about to tell her that, instead choosing to shovel a spoonful of his own dessert into his mouth. The knock of the metal spoon against his teeth hurt just enough to distract him for all of three seconds from the raging boner he was sporting.

There was also movie night in Sero’s room when halfway through the second movie Kirishima needed a phone charger and crossed in front of his spot in the hammock to bend down and get the spare cord from Sero’s desk drawer. His tshirt lifted slightly as he did to expose the curve of his lower back and the dimples set at his hips which were subtle but defined enough that Bakugo idly wondered…

“…if you could feel ‘em when you wrapped your legs around those delicious hips?”

He hated that she could read him like a fucking book. But he also hated that he had apparently now developed a fetish for best friend’s back.

Even during training when he was watching Kirishima work on his Unbreakable form against Shoji from the sidelines, the class’ task to critique their peers’ moves and assess them for potential counters that villains could utilize, he stared at the hard lines of his back. When he activated his quirk the hardening deepened the definition of his muscles as they raised up in craggy patterns that drew hills and valleys down the length of his spine.

His strength and resilience was hot as shit. Bakugo could train with him until his arms trembled with overuse from his quirk and not a single scorch mark would be left on the redhead, just another wide smile. Even close-range explosions couldn’t crack him, and he could think of situations other than close combat where that would be useful.

“Shame that you can’t scratch those shoulders up, ain’t it?” Connie murmured over his shoulder.

Not quite, he mused to himself. He had great control of himself when it came to his quirk, but where Kirishima was concerned was rapidly becoming a different story.

Say he did try to scratch those shoulders—if his quirk went off because he was in a stupidly dizzy haze due to Kirishima being that close to him, he wouldn’t hurt him. A far bigger blessing in his opinion. Besides, scratches weren’t the only way he could mark him up.

“What’s that smirk for baby?”

“Eat shit and die.”

Bakugo wasn’t a rule breaker. He lived his life on the straight and narrow in every aspect except apparently for his sexuality. Which is how he ended up breaking locker room rule number one: don’t check out your bros when changing.

At least he wasn’t obvious about it though, he justified. A peek from the corner of his eye here, a half-lidded glance there. With a quirk like his he didn’t get the chance to be subtle often but he was damn good at it.

No one around him knew that from his peripheral he was tracing the outline of Kirishima’s body in just his boxer briefs, savoring it for every second he could before his uniform pants slid up his legs.

A soft tickle on his arm let him know that something had noticed and he grimaced at the sound of her voice.

“Ohhh you picked a good one, my tasty little cherry bomb,” she cooed from her position against the lockers, bottom lip bitten between her teeth as she gazed longingly over his shoulder. “I could bounce an American quarter off of that tight little ass.”

“Shut your damn mouth!” he hissed as a furious blush covered his cheeks. Another glance at his friend showed that he was finishing the top button on his shirt before tucking it into his pants. He could even make the uniform look good, it was entirely unfair.

“Even with clothes on that boy has you feeling tingly,” she teased as tendrils of her hair wrapped around his waist. “But honey we gotta get in them pants and find out if those red drapes have a matching carpet!”

Before he could stop it his traitorous mouth revealed, “They don’t.”

She gasped and pulled him closer with her hair, his bare chest pressed against her furry one. “Start talking, motherfucker.”

“Fuck, it’s not a big deal!” he defended, squirming in the tight grip of her hair. “You’ve seen his hero costume—he’s shirtless! His happy trail is pitch black, okay? It’s… just something I noticed. And then that pink bitch told me he started dying and spiking it for high school, in middle school it was still black and he always wore it down.”

Connie narrowed her eyes but unwound her hair to let him finish dressing, crossing her arms as she surveyed the remaining boys. The locker room was almost completely empty save for himself, Kirishima, and Kaminari.

“He doesn’t like her, does he?”

Bakugo paused as he pulled on his blazer. “Raccoon Eyes? No? I mean, shit, I don’t know? I just know they went to the same middle school or whatever.”

She hummed. “Middle school friends, high school sweethearts, hero power couple, lil pink babies with some sharp teeth…”

“Shut. the hell. up,” he warned. “I’d know if he liked her, I’m his best friend. He’d tell me shit like that.”

“When?” she asked sassily. “You haven’t spent a lick of time alone with that boy since my cute ass got here. You’ve only hung out together in your little group so when would he tell you?”

The fact that she had made a damn good point had him wanting to blow up the entire building.

“Fuck you,” he spat, slamming his locker shut. He shoved his bag under his arm and stomped over to his friends, Kirishima spotting him over Kaminari’s shoulder and giving him a grin that should not have been as hot as it was.

“Hey, man!” he greeted, Kaminari turning and doing the same.

Bakugo grabbed the sleeve of his blazer and tugged him towards the door. “Walk with me.”

He stumbled as he followed, a clumsy wave to Kaminari thrown over his shoulder as he gained his bearings enough to walk with his friend once they reached the hallway. He’d since let go of his sleeve, hands shoved into his pockets and a flush to his cheeks.

“Everything good bro?” Kirishima asked with a furrowed brow.

“I gotta go to the shopping district tomorrow.”

“Oh, what do you have to get?”

“Got a bunch of shit I need to grab,” he huffed as they exited the building and started down the path to the dorms. “You said there was a new album you wanted to get, yeah?”

He grinned, surprised but delighted that he’d remembered him mentioning it. “Yeah, it’s a rerelease of my favorite album on vinyl and when I looked at it online it was so cool! Like the actual record is dark blue and then it has—”

“Just come with me tomorrow and show me then, Hair for Brains.”

“O-oh? I mean, yeah. Yeah!” he said excitedly. “What time were you thinking of going?”

“Train leaves at nine.”

The sharp smile was blinding and dammit he wanted to blast the butterflies in his stomach straight to hell where the little beasts belonged. Half of him was desperate to keep the smile on his lips while the other half wondered how hard would be too hard if Kirishima ever bit his neck as he worked a red and purple bruise into his skin, and just imagining it had him quickening his pace to get the fuck to his dorm room and take care of the rapidly growing problem just below his belt.

Kirishima kept up with his longer strides and didn’t leave his side as they got into the elevator to go to their floor. For the time being, Bakugo hated that their rooms were right next door to one another. He was bound to hear him moan his name some night (what if it was that night? or in the next five minutes?) and he was wholly unprepared to try and talk his way out of that particular situation.

“Did you see the group chat?”

Bakugo blinked. “What?”

“Sero’s dad dropped off like eight boxes of dango from Tokyo and he said he was gonna share with us after dinner! Do you want me to get you when it’s time for dinner and then we can find them to eat? Wait, do you think he’s gonna share with the entire class? Because I’d feel bad if we were the only ones—”

“Just knock on my door when you’re ready to eat,” he grunted as he pulled his keycard out of his pocket, strategically angling his hips away from his friend. “I’m starting my essay.”

“Oh yeah, sure!” he agreed as Bakugo entered his room. “I probably should too, I mean the English translations take me forever and that essay’s supposed to be like two thousand words—”

He closed the door on his rambling and dropped his bag to the floor. Like fuck was he starting that essay when he could feel his heartbeat in his underwear.

“You know…”

Shit.

“…even if it takes him a while to translate I’ve got some nice English phrases you can drop on your date tomorrow, baby.”

“It’s not a date, shitty bitch!” he hissed as he threw open his closet door to find comfier clothes to change into. The sound of her voice was an instant boner killer so the great idea of jerking off before dinner was shot down as he’d gone softer with each word that rolled off of her tongue.

“But it could be!” she said, excitedly throwing her hands above her head.

“No.”

“But you heard how excited he was! You two can sit nice and close on the train and if your jacket’s over your laps? Honey!”

“You need to fucking get over the idea that tomorrow is a date because I only did it to hang out and see if he actually does like Pinky. He fucking doesn’t but now I wanna hear him say it,” he grumbled as he slipped his tshirt over his head.

Connie sighed as she slumped down to sit on his bed. “Katsuki, can you just let yourself be honest? You want it to be a date. Since we met I’ve always pegged you as a guy who gets what he wants. Why are you so against this?”

Bakugo paused for several reasons. The first was the use of his given name because really, had she ever even said his name? Given or surname? Not that he could remember; it was always too-sweet pet names with her. Second was the tone which held no sass or sex appeal or teasing. And the last one was the fact that shit, he did go after what he wanted, didn’t he? Except…

“I’ve got him as a friend and a bastard like me can’t wish for much more than that. ‘S already more than I deserve at this point.”

“Baby, punishing yourself ain’t helping anybody.”

“I’m not punishing myself!” he snapped. “I’m stating a fact! I won’t ask for more when it isn’t something that can happen!”

“You mean you can’t be brave enough to take a chance.”

His shoulders tensed and anger sparked both from his palms and throughout his entire being. Him? Not brave? HIM? Katsuki FUCKING Bakugo? Future Number One Pro Hero of Japan?

“Shitty woman I’m braver than half of the extras in this school—in this country!—and don’t you ever fucking question that again! I’ll fucking show you who’s not brave! Stupid fucking bitch with your goddamn furry ass tits coming into my room and calling me a fucking coward..!”

He continued his angry rambling as he stomped to his door and yanked it open as hard as he could.

Turning away from Bakugo, Kirishima entered his room and tossed his blazer aside, one hand raking through the gelled spikes of his hair. His smile dropped; he was ready to lay in his bed with Fleetwood Mac on shuffle and wallow like the sad, gay disaster in love with his best friend that he was.

“Hey there, big boy.”

He nearly jumped out of his hardened skin at the smooth greeting from the monster posed atop his sheets, one leg kicked up behind him with a hoof pointing to the ceiling and his head lazily held by a propped-up arm.

“Maury you scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, sorry. Hey, listen, how’d everything go with your blonde boom stick? Did we see his boom stick yet? Tell me I didn’t miss it because I’ve gotta know if that kid’s pubes are as spiky as his hair.”

He frowned as he changed from his uniform into his lounge clothes. “You’re gross, dude. But anyway, Bakugo doesn’t like me like that. You gotta stop pushing it.”

“Kirishima, c’mon, you gotta have a little faith!”

“Faith in what? That he asked me to go to the shopping district with him tomorrow as a date? That’s not likely, man.”

The monster rolled his eyes as he stood up and approached him, arms crossed in front of his chest and an unimpressed look on his impish face. He hadn’t particularly wanted to pull this card but goddammit this kid had to get a fucking grip.

“Super unmanly of you not to act on your feelings, Red,” he goaded. “I thought no regrets meant you’d man up and shoot your shot with that walking stick of dynamite but I guess you’re not as strong in those beliefs as I thought.”

“C’mon man, that’s not fair!” Kirishima said with a pout.

He threw his hands up. “Am I wrong though? One day you’re gonna regret not saying anything and be upset when you realize that you two coulda been together.”

The redhead bit his lip. “I can’t just ruin our friendship like that.”

“Kid, listen. Do you think that Crimson guy you like would keep his feelings for someone a secret like this? Or would he sack up and figure out if those feelings are returned? I’m not sayin’ I’m great at the whole romance part of all this but damn, you gotta try!”

“I can’t!”

“Can’t or won’t? Trying doesn’t mean professing your love straight away! Just go ask him something about tomorrow like why he asked just you and not all your friends. Get a feel for it before you get a feel of him!”

Kirishima bit his lip. “I guess… I guess I could ask why the rest of our friends weren’t invited. Maybe say that Kaminari texted me…”

His voice trailed off as he turned to his door, brows furrowing as he considered the idea of going next door to Bakugo’s room. Without knowing or meaning to his feet carried him across the room and only once he had stepped out into the hallway did he realize what had happened, his lips parting in surprise and then even further when Bakugo’s door flung open and the blonde stepped out of his room. His face was flushed and his teeth were bared but when he realized Kirishima was in the hallway too the snarl dropped into a neutral frown.

They stared at one another for a long moment before Kirishima slowly approached his best friend. “Hey. I was just coming to see you.”

“Yeah? You ready for dinner now?”

“No,” he said. “I wanted to uh…”

He cocked an eyebrow at his friend, not used to the hesitation. It was… fuck, it was cute.

“Bakugo, tomorrow—”

“Is a date,” the blonde finished with conviction. He hoped the anxiety curled in his gut wasn’t visible on his face because shit, he may have just made the biggest mistake of his damn life if this went sideways.

Kirishima’s jaw dropped. “A-A date? We’re going on a date?”

Bakugo rolled his eyes and reached out to fist his hands in the horrendous orange shirt and yank him close, his body warming at the blush that rose on the redhead’s cheeks.

“We’re going on a fucking date,” he said before cupping the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss. The muffled noise of surprise quickly turned into kissing him back and holy fucking shit he was kissing Kirishima.

Behind them stood the two hormone monsters, smirks across both their faces at one more first kiss in the books. Maury held his hand out for a low five and without even looking Connie batted his hand away and gave a slap to his ass.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Crackfics aren’t my specialty and I know there were some OOC moments but I hope this at least made y’all laugh lmao

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alkhale · 4 years

Text

Desert Sun (Male!Vivi x Male!Hoku) Memos AU Ko-fi request

Hi! Recently i begin to love Vivi(theres dome amazing fanarts about genderbender!Vivi that i found ). so i would like to get an Vivi x Hoku or M!Vivi x Hoku or M!Vivi x M!Hoku ,please.

Pictures for reference! Male!Vivi by @bab_119

Male!Hoku looks a lot like Allen from D. Gray Man with just a bit shorter hair. He keeps the side braid with Mihawk’s ribbon or uses it to tie off a little ponytail at the base of his neck.

“What are you drawing, Hoku?”

Hoku paused, his fingers loosely holding the pencil in his grip. The lazy, light sketches looked back at him over the expanse of thick paper and he grinned a bit at the sight, looking up at Vivi’s voice. “Couldn’t sleep, prince charming?”

Vivi rolled his eyes at him, lightly running his fingers through the soft blue tufts of his hair. He came down the set of steps onto the lower deck where Hoku was leaning against one of Nami’s tangerine trees. A few peels sat at Hoku’s bare feet in the grass, his only evidence.

The front of Hoku’s wispy white bangs were pulled up over the top of his head, tied together in a silly looking tuft. The sight made Vivi want to chuckle, but he withheld it for now in case Hoku just started making fun of him for something else. The artist tended to be quick to bite back with retorts at Vivi if he tried to tease him too much, like stepping on the end of a cat’s tail.

Maybe it means we got closer. Vivi wondered, sighing as he looked over to the side. Or not.

The air was cool outside, another sign of their closeness to Alabasta’s own climate. Hot, rolling sun throughout the days and dark, cold nights across the endless expanse of sand and rolling desert. A sight and sensation Vivi never got sick of, not once, only missing it more as he got closer and closer to home.

Hoku shifted a bit to make room for Vivi underneath the tangerine tree. Vivi smiled a bit at that, trying not to get too hopeful and lowering himself down and getting comfortable beside Hoku, carefully stretching out his legs and watching how his legs stretched out just a bit further than Hoku’s.

Hoku’s feet weren’t as scratched up or scarred as Vivi thought they’d be. Well-protected by the sturdy, worn material of his boots sitting on the other side of him. Hoku’s hands were a different story though. Calloused, smoothed over, and then calloused all over again, only soft at the fingertips.

“It was getting too stuffy in the room,” Vivi said. Hoku snorted. “I wanted a bit of air.”

“Told you to just take the hammock outside,” Hoku said, pointing his pencil at the hammock he’d drawn from sheets and set up between Nami’s tangerine trees. Vivi raised a brow in amusement. “Nothing can beat a good hammock under the fresh air.”

“What do you do when it rains?”

“Just draw a tarp or a big umbrella, what else?”

Vivi laughed, a soft, elegant sound. Hoku rolled his eyes, turning his focus back to his sketchbook. Vivi watched his slender fingers move in silence, taking in the careful strokes and quick shifts of Hoku’s finger across the pages. He was never one for drawing or artistic crafts, but Vivi sometimes felt like he could watch Hoku do this forever.

Hoku loved what he did. He always looked like he loved down what he did.

Vivi wondered how much of that love Hoku could see himself.

“You’d die for your country, right? That’s good. I’ll lend you a life then if you need it.”

Their shoulders pressed against each other, warm still, from the earlier sunlight. Vivi idly rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the small space between his and Hoku’s legs before he quickly turned them away. Vivi winced, realizing his eyes landed instead on the bare expanse of Hoku’s stomach, left exposed from the shortness of the tight white turtleneck he wore, showing off the lean, taut muscle.

Vivi’s eyes quickly shifted to the side of Hoku’s face instead, quietly following the red ink pattern blended into his skin, curving softly around his eye. Vivi almost laughed again, realizing normally Luffy didn’t let him get away with looking this long.

“Tell me about Alabasta.”

Vivi blinked, looking up in confusion. Hoku didn’t look up at him, never taking his eyes off the page. “Go on, anything. Or you could just give me a bit of blood too.”

“Alabasta?” Vivi said. Hoku nodded, once. “I—well, is there a reason—”

“Don’t have too if you don’t want to,” Hoku said, sketching absently at the bottom of the page. “Up to you. Running out of ideas.”

Vivi kept silent for a moment, thinking it over. Hoku was warm beside him, reminding Vivi of the first rays of sunlight in the morning, not too warm, just barely there and gone in a blink. Hoku smelled like ink, a hint of iron and something else, like a flower maybe underneath the heavier smell of tangerines all around them.

“Guess I’ll just draw Usopp,” Hoku muttered.

Vivi quickly straightened, clearing his throat before he started to speak, a little hurried at first. “It’s a lot larger than people realize. Across the desert it seems like it stretches as far as the ocean, but there’s all kinds of small spots that mark what’s what. The towns are all different, unique in their own way and filled with history.”

“Okay, tell me about one.”

“Alubarna—it’s where I grew up,” Vivi quickly continued, trying to keep Hoku’s attention on his words, on his home. Hoku’s pencil lightly shifted over the paper. “So big, a small child could easily get lost in the columns, fit right behind them.”

“What were you like as a kid?” Hoku mused. Vivi brightened.

“I, well, I wasn’t quite the picture perfect image for a prince. I got into trouble a bit and fought with some of the local kids, but we also became friends! I followed my father around—”

“You look more like your mom or your dad?” Hoku asked.

Vivi hesitated a second before saying softly, warmly, “My mother.”

Hoku’s lips curled up into a crooked smile. Vivi stared at it a bit in wonder. “Me too.”

Vivi felt the words gathering up at his throat. He tried to figure out the most elegant way to say it, to ask— “What was your home like? What were you like as a child, Hoku?”

“Keep going,” Hoku said softly.

“T-The palace is grand and white, huge, swirling columns and massive statues of Alabasta’s guardian deities stand in front of it,” Vivi said, hoping his chance would come again. “I think people from Artopoki were paid years ago to help build them.”

“Oh~” Hoku said. “Must be real good then. Keep going.”

Vivi’s voice grew smoother, warmer as the memories came flooding back to him in perfect clarity. They appeared, bright as day and perfectly clear in all their entirety, as if he’d never left the sand and the smell of the sun and the dry, warm heat. Hoku’s hand continued to move, quick and effortless across the page and Vivi followed it with a sort of hypnotic ease, feeling his shoulders unwind, his back relax. Hoku’s warmth didn’t disappear beside him.

“I love Yuba too,” Vivi said slowly. “My best friend is there... Yuba’s a great center of commerce and life...”

“What are the seasons like?” Hoku murmured.

“Always warm,” Vivi mumbled, his eyes drooping a bit. He tried to shake his head awake. “But the nights get cold... you might... like it...”

“Keep going,” Hoku said, soft by his ear. Vivi continued, mumbling the words out, his eyes drooping a bit. He tried to keep going, feeling the heavy, heavy fatigue pulling at his eyes.

Vivi could feel the sun behind his eyelids, warming his skin. He wondered if Hoku wouldn’t mind the heat too much. He said he liked the sun, right? Hoku had never tried food from Alabasta either. Would he like the palace baths? Maybe not, since Hoku didn’t seem fond of water. There was a lot Vivi wanted to show him, lots and lots.

More of my home... would you like to see it?

Hoku waited a few more minutes until the soft sound of Vivi’s breathing filled his ears. He sighed in amusement through his nose, shifting his shoulder under the weight of Vivi’s head resting on it. Hoku snorted, ripping out the page in his book and folding it up, tucking it into the waistband of Vivi’s pants.

Hoku debated his options for a bit until the silky ends of Vivi’s hair started to tickle his chin, the soft warmth of Vivi’s breath against his neck. Hoku rolled his eyes. Look at this guy.

Hoku carefully maneuvered Vivi’s head onto the soft grass, standing up. He took a moment, considering Vivi’s poor looking figure on the lonely floor before he finally threw a quickly drawn blanket over him. Vivi shifted, groping around on the grass and Hoku tossed a body shaped pillow down beside him too, watching with a snort as Vivi wrapped his arm around it and sighed, content.

Hoku rolled his eyes again, lightly nudging Vivi’s slumbering form with his foot before hopping into his own hammock with a satisfied sigh, grinning up at the stars as he shut his eyes.

“Sleep tight, prince charming—hngh?”

Hoku let out a garbled shout, a strong tug ripping him entirely out of his hammock and back onto the grass. He tried to sit up, hissing at the pain in his back when a sudden weight tossed itself over his stomach, pinning Hoku back flat to the ground. His eyes bulged from his head, jerking over to where a completely knocked out Vivi was sighing in deep content, the crease in his brow relaxing as he tightened his arm around Hoku and let his cheek rest on Hoku’s shoulder, snuggling up to him.

Hoku experimentally pried at Vivi’s arm, wheezing in surprise at the young man’s grip. Goddess!

Hoku scowled, grumbling in discontent. He threw his arms behind his head, cushioning it and shutting his eyes with a sigh. I’ll just wait till he lets up. When he wakes up tomorrow he’s gonna get it.

A few minutes passed and Hoku’s own brows relaxed a bit, body growing slack as sleep overtook him. Somewhere along the way Vivi shifted, one hand sleepily guiding Hoku’s head to rest on his chest while the blanket was strewn over them, Vivi’s arm returning to encircle Hoku’s shoulders.

Hoku muttered something in his sleep while Vivi let out a relaxed sigh, looking pleased.

- Luffy threw a fit in the morning, Vivi hid his face in his hands and Hoku simply packed up his hammock and decided he’d set up camp up in the crow’s nest

(this was more fun to write than i expected hahahaha, i get such student council president and lazy, not really a delinquent but unmotivated, complicated art student dynamics from these two)

#memos #memos au #vivi #hoku #vivi x hoku #ViKu #male hoku looking more like mahina kinda makes me soft #male!vivi #male!hoku #ko-fi request #ko-fi requests

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