#that can come together but can’t ever compare to the original

[crowsyart]

Mizune lore stuff to go along with my witch lore

[sun-and-moon-mushroom]

AU where, at some point after Bingge gets thrown into the Abyss, SJ decides he’s had enough of the murder accusations and having to listen to teenage attempts to play music and wrote poetry, and decides to fuck off. He tells YQY he’s going into ‘seclusion’ for his cultivation and proceeds to change his clothes, hairstyle, and wear something that covers his face as he starts travelling around as a wandering cultivator under his original name (if asked if he’s related to that Shen, he just tells the truth — he’s an orphan who never knew his family). This eliminates at least 60% of his stress and anxiety since he’s actually able to relax without worrying about insults or keeping his reputation as a cold and elegant immortal master intact.

Time goes on, and eventually Bingge comes back. Hearing that SQQ is away, he figures he’ll just use the time to focus on gathering power and collecting evidence before he can take his revenge. Along the way, he ends up in a small town, where he ends up going to a brothel because Xin Mo is being annoying and he left his wives at home. He steps in the door and — is that Shen Qingqiu???

SJ doesn’t recognise this handsome stranger who’s uncommonly polite to prostitutes. It’s been years since he saw LBH and he was an underfed teenager then, no taller than him. Even the name wouldn’t jog his memory since it’s not like he ever used the little beast’s name outside of the occasional bit of paperwork. So, he invites him over for tea and they talk.

LBH is immediately convinced that this cannot be SQQ because he’s actually being nice to him. He invited him to sit down and have tea! He’s asking for his opinion on the music! He’s smiling! LBH is pretty sure SQQ would rather drop dead than smile at anyone, let alone him! He goes into conspiracy mode: is this a long lost relative? amnesia?? an alternate universe counterpart??? possession????

SJ now has to deal with this strange cultivator following him around, always ‘coincidentally’ visiting the same towns he does and offering to help him on night hunts… because LBH is too curious about this not-Shen-Qingqiu to leave him alone. Eventually, SJ decides the best way to get rid of this stranger is to become disliked by him, something he’s got plenty of experience with. Of course, his entire life story (who’s going to connect it to the Qing Jing peak lord anyway? and it feels surprisingly good to actually tell someone) is the perfect choice.

This has the opposite of the intended effect, as now they’re bonding over their mutually awful childhoods. SJ complains about how at least LBH had a mother, LBH points out that maybe it’s better to never have someone than loose them, and SJ brings up Yue Qi. LBH says he was abandoned in the Demon Realm, because the Endless Abyss is a bit unrealistic for an ordinary cultivator to escape, SQQ points out that he would probably have preferred the Demon Realm to the sect he ended up in, and LBH has to agree. LBH talks about his shitty master and SJ can’t help but compare him to Qiu Jianluo.

Bingge is Bingge, so of course this ends up with them in bed together. In a moment of passion, LBH accidentally calls him Shizun… and SJ realises, and immediately goes into crisis.

[brittle-doughie]

OH GOD THERE'S TWO OF THEM

hiiii Brittle, its me, Blue Bird Anon! I come bearing gifts of cookie sprites! Crowned Cupcake Cookie (based on Runebrave's lovely design) and her brother of my own creation, Royal Icing Cookie. I had a lot of fun designing and drawing them so I hope you and everyone enjoy as well! (pssst also my art blog is scarabeeart ;3)

I saw an anon guess that Royal Icing was the pure opposite of his sister, and while that wasn't my original concept for him, I thought the contrast between the two would be a very funny idea hjggffg him being a totally normal, genuinely good guy while his sister is. like that.

But the idea I had for him was a classic prince charming, but with the levels cranked to 11. Brave, chivalrous, humble, generous, rides a white horse, he's got it all! All he wants is to sweep Y/N Cookie off their feet like in a romantic fairy tale and ride into the sunset for their perfect happily ever after together <3 May let the prince charming thing go to his head as he has a secret hero complex and will often put Y/N Cookie into danger purely just so he can heroically swoop in and rescue them. And while his sister is more physical with her use of force to chase away those who get too close to Y/N Cookie, Royal Icing is more manipulative and unhanded. Not above willing to plant fake evidence on other suitors and use it as a way to turn Y/N against them and only trust him. "These Cookies are merely trying to marry you only to claim the throne, they want to usurp you, your adviser is scheming and plotting against you" and all the other fairy tale tropes. Will never fess up to sneaking around because his perfect prince image is incredibly important to him. You trust him, right? He's your fiance! Your prince charming, your knight in shining armor. Of course he wouldn't lie to you <3

(hehe sorry for writing so much! I've been thinking about this for too long hjgfhjgf)

First of all.

That’s some damn incredible work you made here. You are getting a follow from me!

Crowned Cupcake now actually looks like canon compared to my more simple style! She’s even pulling a Cherry Blossom with that triangle mouth there!

Royal Icing too! He looks just as amazing, definitely the charismatic type that no cookie would doubt has a dark side to him! Both of them are just wonderfully done and I really appreciate you taking the time out of your day to do this!

I did think about Icing being exactly like his sister rather than being a kind soul, with him taking the more psychological approach rather then the brute forcing Crowned would do. He’s willing to play any card in his hand to turn it in his favor, even if it meant falsely accusing other cookies if it meant getting them of the picture.

You would trust him more at first. After all, he hadn’t done anything wrong to warrant any kind of suspicion on him! These liars can’t prove anything against your Prince, so you’ll take his side more often then not.

Overall, this is spectacular and I greatly appreciate the work that was done here!

[saltydkdan]

Salty i wanna get into Baki which one do you recommend,the manga or the anime?

Oh you just woke up the fucking beast (I'm so sorry).

I LOVE this question, and as a recent Baki fan myself, I can tell you that getting into the series as a Western consumer can be rough if you don’t have a basic guide to know what you’re getting into…. so that’s what I’m gonna make this post (TEEHEE).

This series has gotta be one of the most insane shonen- actually no- one of the most INSANE PIECES OF FICTION I've ever experienced, and I NEED more people to check it out. Like, LOOK AT THIS SHIT DUDE.

Baki out of context somehow even puts Jojo's Bizarre Adventure to shame. The way I usually pitch it to people is that Baki is as insane as people THINK Jojo is before they read it. Shit is just... MAN LMAO. OBAMA IS FUCKING IN THIS.

Unlike more popular stuff like Dragon Ball and Hunter x Hunter, a lot of this series has just never been officially localized, so knowing where to start, and even how to support the series, is a hard task if you don’t know what you’re doing.

Thankfully THAT’S WHAT YOU HAVE ME FOR. This Tumblr post is gonna be your one stop shop for how to get into Baki as an English speaker (and it’ll give me some space to ramble about one of my latest favorite series).

But uh before we get into the nitty gritty, wanna put some trigger warnings for the series for those who may want to know. Listen, I know how some of these are gonna look to the average person, but this series just be like that sometimes, if you can’t take stuff like this trust me it’s insanely valid. You’ll understand if you choose to take the plunge.

SERIES TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Animated Blood/Violence, some animated gory imagery, Incest (???), Nudity, Urine stuff, Bigfoot/Animal Violence, Death, Uncomfortable looking muscles, and one instance of sexual violence (offscreen)

If you are comfortable with all that (and again, valid as fuck if you aren’t) then let’s talk BAKI!

First off, Manga or Anime?

You would think that either would be fine, but my personal recommendation for Baki as a beginner, is to watch the anime over reading the manga. Simply put: The anime is a lot more widely available and accessible in English speaking territories, and is fairly easy to support officially with its current iteration.

For whatever reason, the manga just never really took off in the West when compared to other series, so it was only ever officially released in English a handful of times, and they only ended up publishing the first few volumes. Theoretically, you can read the first few books to start, but the entire series all together is legit longer than One Piece at a whopping 1,203 chapters, so you are gonna run out of material real quick. The fraction of officially available manga barely scratches the surface of the series.

Even if you’re stubborn about reading the manga and want to try reading fan translations, they come with their own separate batch of issues. Plenty of fan scans you can find online range from wildly outdated, to generally being poor quality at best. There’s even some fan translations that just straight up make shit up and don’t even properly translate the original script. Adding in extra dialogue and slurs randomly to make the text seem way edgier than it actually is.

Full disclosure, I wanna cut through my bias here and say that there are indeed some great scans available on the internet if you look hard enough, especially for the more recent content! But they aren’t super easy to track down with how the series is formatted, and you may accidentally find yourself reading the story out of its proper order.

The watch/read order of Baki is a bit of a toughie for new people, but is actually pretty simple once it’s explained. The story of Baki is split up into multiple different series, kind of similar in format to Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure. Though instead of “Parts”, Baki is split up into completely different manga and TV series. This is why many fans get confused initially, especially with the watch order, because it isn’t laid out in an easy to understand way at first glance.

The most well known series are currently streaming on Netflix, but those aren’t the ones you wanna start with. Nope, the story of the Baki anime actually starts way back in 2001, in a TV show that isn’t streaming officially online. Now if you want to watch out of order, I’m not gonna stop you. You can do whatever you want, by all means, but you’re gonna be missing some VERY important story context, and some characters just won’t hold the same weight.

So if you DO want to watch in order, come with me my friend. Let me show you-

BAKI’S SUPER COOL AND NOT AT ALL CONFUSING WATCH ORDER:

Baki the Grappler (2001) (24 episodes)

This is the original 2001 anime adaptation, the very start of serialized Baki anime. You’re gonna wanna start here trust me.

This series isn’t streaming anywhere officially online, but you can find it… places. Seek it out, trust me, because otherwise you’re gonna pay way too much for out of print DVDs on Ebay. Thankfully though you have options! The series is both subbed and dubbed (as well as every series I discuss from this point forward.

This show is the very start of serialized Baki anime, the very beginning of Baki Hanma’s story. Although it’s not in the way you may think. Despite this being the earliest point in the Baki timeline, it’s actually an adaptation of a later story arc from the manga.

Now I know what you’re thinking, “Didn’t you just say this is where I should start? Why is it adapting something from later in the story?”, and yeah it’s valid to be confused. While yes this is the first ever Baki anime, for some reason the staff behind it made the decision to move this later arc up a bit from the original manga. In my honest opinion, I feel like this is actually a great decision.

As you will see as you watch, this honestly FEELS like this should be where the story begins. The escalation of power and storytelling from this point onward feels very natural, and you won’t miss out on anything or spoil yourself whatsoever on later events.

This is the de facto best starting point.

Grappler Baki Maximum Tournament (2001) (24 episodes)

This is effectively the second season of Baki the Grappler. For whatever reason they decided to title it something else, and while this is the norm for the series later on, this name change is weird because it adapts an arc from the original manga just like the first season of anime I just talked about.

Whatever lol.

Anyway this series, much like the previous, isn’t officially available as of now. So your best option is to SEARCH for it. SEARCH on the INTERNET. Or y’know. The good ol’ expensive out of print DVD on Ebay route.

In my opinion, compared to the first season, this one feels a bit slower paced and a bit of a slog at points but HOLD STRONG TRUE BELIEVER. This season is the introduction to a lot of mainstay characters in the series. Many of which you will come to love, even if you don’t know it yet.

BAKI (2018) (39 episodes) (NETFLIX)

This is the modern adaptation of Baki. After the last series ended in 2001, the anime went on hiatus for 17 years before it was announced that it would be coming back with a modern coat of paint.

Contrary to what you may think, this isn’t a ground up reboot. It’s a continuation of the exact point they left off years ago, right after the Maximum tournament. The only thing that kind of sucks about this is that, at least for the English dub, they replaced most of the voice cast. Most of the new VAs do a great job, however you may need to get used to Yujiro Hanma having Shadow the Hedgehog’s modern VA from the games haha.

Thankfully, you can officially support this series easily via Netflix. Normally I’m pretty eh on Netflix as of late, but this being the only way you can support the show officially in the west, I personally recommend it.

Baki Hanma (2023) (39 episodes) (NETFLIX)

This is the most recent anime! It’s also on Netflix.

Me and my friends just got to this on our watchthrough together.

Anyway, this is my list! If after you catch up you wanna hop into the manga and read the fan scans, I’ve heard that you can start on Baki Hanma/Baki Son of Ogre (chapter 183).

Hope you enjoy the funny man punching show! Feel free to report back and tell me how you feel about it (positive OR negative)!

Like I said, I've been watching the series with friends on Discord every night or so when we're free and MAN. Baki is fucking AMAZING WITH FRIENDS. It just never slows down after a certain point, and it just gets stranger and crazier.

[beyondthesefourwalls]

To Make a House a Home

Summary: House hunting in California was proving to be a challenge. Leave it to Bradley to manage to pull off the biggest surprise you’ve ever gotten.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n, can be read as unnamed OC) 

Word Count: 1.6K 

Warnings: smut, fluff, language 

Notes: This was written off the blurb request I got during my TGM Blurb Party by @cherrycola27​. She requested Bradley. Smut/Fluff. House. “You can’t trick me into confessing my secrets” and it ran away from me, so she gets a one shot instead. Hope you like it and that it worth the wait, girlfriend!

------

“I don’t think I can handle an open house today, baby. Can we just go back to the apartment instead?” 

The dejection in your voice was clear. You had been on the market for a house for months now that you had relocated to San Diego from Virginia. But the market was nearly impossible right now, and you were dealt rejection after rejection for every single offer you put in. You were renting an apartment on a month to month basis with the majority of your things packed away in a storage unit, and both of you were so eager to get out of the third floor walk up and into a place you could make a home. 

Bradley squeezed your hand before bringing it to his lips as he took an exit off the freeway. It was sunny but not too hot today, and the wind from the open windows made the strands of your hair flutter around your face. “Just one, okay? I have a good feeling about this."

“Just one?” you asked, hesitation and reluctance in your voice. But you would humor him, he knew, because he never asked for much. 

“Just one,” he confirmed. 

You sighed, and Bradley knew you really didn’t want to, but you agreed with him nonetheless. You weren’t happy now, but his own excitement started vibrating under his skin, because he knew you would be. He couldn’t wait to see the look on your face. 

It was only another few minutes before he pulled into a neighborhood. He saw how you sat up a little straighter in your seat and how your brows pulled together out of the corner of his eye; you started to recognize your surroundings, taking them in. You didn’t say anything right away, but Bradley could practically feel the wheels in your head turning. You waited until he pulled into the driveway of a very familiar house before turning to him.

“What are we doing here?” 

The here in question was a house that could only be described as your dream home. It had almost everything your Pinterest Home Goals board could ever imagine, and maybe even a little bit extra, and you had fallen in love with it the moment you saw it during your house hunting more than a month ago. Your eyes had lit up in a way that Bradley had never seen before, only to be stamped out when the offer you had put in before you had even left the driveway was rejected the very next day. It had been hard, but you had simply smiled at him and said you would find another dream home, and that as long as you were with him, it didn’t matter. He knew you were being truthful, but he also knew that every home you looked at afterward simply didn’t compare. When he got the phone call from the realtor last week that it was back on the market after the original buyers had fallen through, he knew he had to move fast. With a little more cash down and a pre-approved loan for the rest, he had managed to sign all the paperwork and get the keys with you being none the wiser. 

Bradley turned the Bronco off and got out. You were still giving him that same confused, skeptical look when he rounded the vehicle to open your door for you like he always did. He couldn’t help but lean forward and place a kiss on the top of your scrunched up nose. 

“Come on,” he said, helping you down and closing the door once you were safely on the ground. “We should go inside.” 

“Bradley, there’s no one else here. And isn’t this house already sold?” 

You sound dumbfounded, and more than a little confused. You climbed the few steps to the closed front door, and Bradley couldn’t keep it to himself any longer. A smile took over his entire face and he dug around in his front pocket until he held his hand out. A shiny, silver key laid in his palm. 

“I..I don’t…what’s happening?” 

Instead of answering, he took the key and inserted it into the lock. The door swung open easily and he gestured for you to go in. You did so slowly, not taking your eyes off of him until you crossed the threshold. You gasped when you looked around. The large open concept living room and kitchen were bare, not a single rug or piece of furniture to be found as of yet. But on one of the walls right there in front of you, your favorite photo of the two of you hung, snug in its frame that had been sitting in your storage unit up until he had retrieved it earlier this morning. You stared at it in shock for a long moment. Bradley closed the front door and wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You turned to look at him, that same look of disbelief on your face, but your eyes were bright with love and awe.

“This is ours?” you asked quietly, like you were too scared of the answer. He nodded. “You bought this?” 

“We bought this,” he corrected, “but yes. We did.”  

You didn’t say anything, just stared at him for a long moment before squealing and launching yourself into his arms. The unexpected force of your body made him lose his footing and sent the both of you to the ground. He braced your fall with his body, but even then, he was laughing. 

“Bradley! This is our house!” 

“It is,” he agreed, looking up at you with the biggest smile on his face. You squealed again before leaning down to kiss him and he returned it eagerly. His hands settled on your butt, squeezing softly through the denim. 

“How did you pull this off without me knowing? You aren’t sneaky!” 

“I’m plenty sneaky when it means surprising the love of my life, thank you very much,” he remarked. You rolled your eyes but kissed him again nonetheless. 

“Our house,” you mumbled against his lips. He hummed in response, nodding. His cock twitched in his jeans. You always had a powerful effect on him, but combined with the way your body pressed against his, wiggling in excitement, and knowing that the happiness radiating off of you practically in waves was because of him, he was almost fully hard in a matter of moments. You could feel it, too. He knew by the way you ground down into him and tugged at his hair. You pulled away after a moment, rolling off of him and climbing to your feet.

He was about to push himself up as well but stopped when you tugged your shirt over your head. His jaw dropped as the material fluttered to the floor beside where he lay. You kicked off your shoes and worked on getting your jeans and panties off next. You returned to him as soon as you were left only in your bra, and you immediately set to work on undoing his belt and pulling his zipper down. 

“Don’t you want to look around?” he asked, even as he was finally getting with the program and raising his body just enough to quickly discard his own shirt. 

“No, I want to fuck you in our house. Right now. And I want you to tell me how you managed to do all of this.” 

He groaned in pleasure when you freed his cock from the confines of his boxers. “You can’t trick me into confessing my secrets. Oh, fuck, baby, god damn.” 

You had taken his length into your mouth with no preamble, sucking and licking him in the sloppy way that you knew he loved. The back of his head hit the hardwood floors as you hollow your cheeks. He cursed your name when you hummed around him. He threaded his fingers loosely through your hair. “Oh my god, you’re so good to me.” 

You didn’t work him with your mouth for too long, pulling off of him after only a minute or two, but he couldn’t bring himself to complain about it when you were climbing up his body and lining him up with your glistening wet pussy. You sank down slowly, and your matching groans echoed off the walls of the empty house. 

“You’ll tell me eventually,” you breathed, clenching around him as he bottomed out. You ran your hands over his chest, your nails scraping against his nipples as you went. His hips jerked up into you at the sensation and he knew you were right; despite what he said, your tricks always worked on him. 

He rolled the two of you so you were on your back below him. He thrusted in and out of you with long, hard strokes, you begging him for more the entire time in that desperate way you always did when his cock was buried inside of you. He wouldn’t be surprised if neither of you lasted long, but that was okay, because you had an entire house to christen.

“Welcome home, baby,” he grunted, slamming his hips into yours and reveling in the sounds you were making for him, echoing around him like music, “welcome home.” 

-----

Masterlist

Notes: In my head I was picturing the couple from the first TGM one shot I ever wrote, A Change to Everything. You don't have to read that to follow along with this, obviously, but check it out if you haven’t! 

Tag List (please let me know if you’d like to be removed or added!) :  @roosterforme - @mak-32 - @hoyaharper - @wildxwidow - @gretagerwigsmuse - @bradshawburner - @iamaslytherin0 - @lilyevanswhore - @too-fangirl-to-fuction - @fav-fanficssss - @benhardysdrumstick - @fandomxpreferences - @acatwriteshere - @1234-angelika - @double-j - @cocoskween - @sunflowersteves - @teacupsandtopgun - @littlezee80 - @sometimesanalice - @je-suis-prest-rachel - @khaylin27 - @infamous-reindeer - @hotch-meeeeeuppppp - @sarahjoestewy-blog - @sunnysidesidra - @notroosterbradshaw - @yanna-banana - @inthestars-underthesun -@avengersfan25 - @wkndwlff - @zbeez-outlet - @lt-spork - @indynerdgirl - @loveforaugust - @mssleepy876b

@kassieesworld - @luckylexie - @lovemesomevesey - @mizzzpink - @books-for-summer - @a-serene-place-to-be - @deviltsunoda - @tv-fanatic18 - @memoriesat30 - @melody-death - @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog - @dabisblackprincess - @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy - @realdirectionx - @waywardhunter95 - @myownworstenemyyy - @sexualparkour - @sadpetalsstuff - @almostgenerallyalways -@alilstressyandlotdepressy - @14readwritedraw96 - @ccbb2222 - @taytaylala12 - @alittlechaotics-blog - @starkleila

@shelbycillian - @mavrellover91 - @vici111 - @merishfit - @plaper1 - @lunamooncole - @pariahsparadise - @bunny-nonnie - @blackwidownat2814 - @huang-the-geek - @jpgliv - @bluelicious - @loveyhoneydovey - @pisupsala - @nuvoleincielo - @olivezeppelin - @jynxmirage - @shanimallina87 - @ouralcohol - @lumpypoll - @discowitchyy - @bellaireland1981- @princessmiaelicia - @eighthwvnder - @floydflys - @smile-child-13 - @rashelruby10 - @csoutsider - @cowboybarbie - @haydensith - @itsizzythebell - @phantomxoxo - @myhealthymarvelobsession - @winterrebel04

[therabbitthatpostthings]

I admittedly made Nanami a lot less mean than the original post intended. Idk, I just feel like he's better at hiding his emotions, the only person who truly riles him up is Gojo. I just can’t imagine him foaming at the mouth with jealousy in sorryyy

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*

“You never get this dressed up for me.” Gojo dramatically sighed

“And yet, you look extra put together today.” You gestured to his half button silk shirt.

“No need to be jealous, not all of us can look this amazing.” He smirked

You swallowed your come back and turned back to checking your reflection in the passenger window. You took solace that at least Gojo’s ‘extraness’ offset your outfit. Then again, who could outshine Gojo Satoru?

“All this ‘cause your two boyfriends are showing up?” He chuckled

“Nanami finally agrees to come out with us! Can’t I be a little excited!”

“A little.” Gojo scoffed to himself.

Nanami wasn’t having much luck either. Punctual as ever, Nanami stood outside the bar in an off white shirt and slacks, his jacket hung over his arm. Like Gojo, he switched his regular eyewear for tinted glasses. He was already regretting spending his day off like this but couldn’t bring himself to not come. Even after Shoko and Utahime canceled, something pulled him to this outing. Being stuck with you flirting and Gojo non-drunk-drunk ramblings wasn’t exactly an ideal situation but, he couldn’t shake the idea of you being alone and possibly vulnerable with Hasegawa. Something still bothered him about it all. Everything fell too nicely into place. Yaga was very tight lipped about Hasegawa’s sudden inclusion, Nanami was beginning to think that he wasn’t told all the details either. All Yaga would say is that Hasegawa would be working in Tokyo until he had a “suitable” place in Kyoto. He never specified just what kind of work he would need to be so close to both schools but Nanami had a hunch.

He brushed the thoughts away as he heard a familiar voice call out to him. Hasegawa hurried over, “Big city life really isn’t for me.” He wore a black and brown button up over a white shirt. The short sleeves and black pants showed just how skinny he was compared to Nanami and Gojo. With his hair tied back he looked younger. Very different from the disheveled man he was imagining. “Am I late?”

“No, (L/N) and Gojo should be here soon.” Nanami answered plainly

“Fashionably late, that’s (Y/N) for you. They always like this- oh right, you don’t come drinking much do you?” He laughed awkwardly.

“I couldn’t find the time until today so, I wouldn’t know what (L/N) is like.” Nanami replied

“Oh, I guess you two aren’t that close.”

“We’ve drifted apart over the years but I considered them a friend back in highschool. They were my upperclassmen.”

“Ah! No way! That makes me older than you!” He smiled.

His ability to switch attitudes at the drop of a hat was impressive. Nanami was already at a bar he didn’t want to be at and was wasting his day off. The last thing he wanted to do was play mind games with this strange man.

(L/N), just what is your relationship with him?

You and Gojo, mercifully, arrived and stopped the conversation that quickly turned one-sided. You thanked Ijichi and hesitantly stepped out of the car. It was strange seeing you dressed up and outside your normal attire. Not even on the joint missions You and Nanami used to go on were you ever this casually dressed.

“Hope we didn’t keep you two waiting,” Gojo grinned, watching Nanami hold his gaze on you.

“No, I just got here.” Hasegawa replied. He stepped forward towards you, “(Y/N), you never fail to amaze me.”

“At least buy me something before you sweet talk me.” You jokingly rolled your eyes. You turned back to Nanami, “Thank you for coming tonight.”

“It was no problem.” Nanami stated. You two stood there for a moment before Gojo broke the silence and led everyone inside. Not even a single drink down and he already knew this would be an entertaining night.

* ✧ *

It was such a shame that Utahime and Shoko couldn’t make it. Gojo desperately needed someone to witness the minefield he was watching unfold. He could call Mei Mei but it would cost him more than anything she would order. Alas, he had to be entertained all alone. Nanami, suddenly very invested in the stories You and Hasegawa had to tell about the life you lived before coming back to Tokyo. Hasegawa, not at all subtly flirting with you and challenging Nanami. And You, unaware of it all.

Just when he thought this would be another night of complaining about work, he’s treated to a show.

“Excuse me,” You finished your drink and left for the restroom. With you gone, Hasegawa turned to the two men.

“What was (Y/N) like back then, weren’t they your senior?” He smiled nonchalantly.

“(Y/N) hasn’t changed much since then, they’re still the same.” Gojo replied.

“Ah, so still loud and fun.”

Gojo smiled, like a lightbulb went off in his head. “Yeah, they used to go around telling everyone they would marry Nanami one day.”

Nanami took a hard swallow of his drink glaring daggers at Gojo. Gojo returned the favor, peering over the rim of his glasses.

Hasegawa laughed, “That’s funny, (Y/N) barely mentioned you at all. It was so long ago though, you shouldn’t take it to heart.”

His fist clenched around the glass, “Funny. I could say the same for you.”

Before he could respond, Hasegawa got a phone call and excused himself outside.

Gojo whistled once he was out of earshot, “You really know how to welcome a guy to town.”

“Gojo, I wouldn’t advise you to be so casual around someone you just met.”

“Aww are you worried about me.” Gojo teased. “Or worried about, someone else?”

Though Nanami didn’t show it, Gojo knew he struck a nerve.

He continued, “You know, if a stranger is going to be around my students, I’d want to know about it.”

“And what do you know?”

“He was stationed in America a year out from graduating, that’s it.” Gojo said in a serious voice .

“That’s all you know?”

“That’s all I’ve heard.” It bothered Gojo that everyone seemed to know except him. Especially when it came to his student. Of course the higher ups wouldn’t make it so easy. They could risk it. Gojo can’t. For now though, Hasegawa wasn’t a threat to anyone. Well…

“I will worry about Yuuji, I’m his teacher. You should worry about your competition.”

“Competition?” Nanami scoffed.

Gojo smirked. “Isn’t that why you don’t like Hasegawa, Nanamin?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“If you're worried about (Y/N) changing their mind,don’t be. They are still utterly in love with you!”

“Like that’s what I would care about right now.” He was annoyed but the blush on his face betrayed him.

“You deny it?” Gojo smirked.

“We have more pressing issues to worry about.” Nanami stated.

“Right, so Hasegawa can steal (Y/N) away and it won’t bother you? I guess that’s a way to get rid of him.”

Nanami rolled his eyes, “(L/N) can do whatever they want, it’s not my concern.”

“What’s not your concern?” You asked, appearing behind them. Nanami almost choked on his drink.

“About how you were so worried Nanami wouldn’t like your hair-”

“Gojo!” You whined.

“What? Nanamin already knows you love him! Why hide it?”

“I’m not hiding it. Not everyone needs to know.”

“Really? A couple years ago you would have been screaming it from the rooftop. Have your feelings changed so much?” Gojo jokingly gasped.

“My feelings never changed, I will always want Nanami but at least I’m less pushy about it now.” You huffed sitting down, “Nanami, I want you to think of me as a friend, okay?”

“Right..” that was all he could muster.

* ✧ *

The cool nighttime air hit your face as you and Nanami huddled out the bar first. You placed your phone back in your pocket after hanging up with Ijichi. You and Nanami had a higher tolerance but it still concerned you for him to drive home or ride the train alone. Nanami thanked you, of course.

“I sobered up because I knew Ryo would get hammered.” You assured him.

“You two must have gone out a lot.”

“Yeah, but that was years ago,” (Y/N) smiled. “I’m glad you came tonight Nanami. I hope we can still hang out like this.”

“Yeah. Of course.” For once Nanami didn’t know how to speak to you. The air around you had shifted and it felt like you two were on the same plane of existence, finally. The distance he was worried about before suddenly became shorter. He saw you differently. A part of him thought it was ridiculous, come Monday morning you’d be back to your aggressive flirting. Was that really a bad thing though?

Gojo and Hasegawa came hurdling out the door before he could think any further. “(Y/N)-chan!!!!” Hasegawa cheered. He wrapped his arms tightly around your shoulders, “Take me home with you!”

“You’re too old to be acting like this.” You laughed. “I should get him to bed. See you guys later.”

“Get home safe.” Nanami called out. For a moment he saw Hasegawa look back and smirk at him. He’s drunk…

Gojo cleared his throat, “Lighten up, like you’d lose to someone like him.”

“Gojo, please do not make assumptions about people.”

“Oh that is rich coming from you!”

[horny4hetfield]

Snow Way to Escape

I originally posted this a while ago, but I think I screwed it up. So, here's a re-write that has become the prologue to several other fics that are in the wings. I hope you enjoy it!!

Warnings:  Angst, Sex Suggested

Why did I ever fall for this man?!  Is he talented?  Yes.  Is he good looking?  Damn yes.  Is he great in bed?  Fuck yes.  Is he being a dick?  All holy hells yes.  Has been since he got home from the road.  Am I regretting moving to his place in Colorado?  Right now.  Yes.  His last dig at me has me packing my carry on and putting my computer into my backpack while wiping away the tears I swore I wouldn’t shed.  I can walk away from everything I can’t fit into these two bags.  I looked over at the smart home device for the time.  It’s 3pm.  The notification bar was flashing yellow.  “Computer, what’s the notification?”  The robotic voice responds, “For the Vail Colorado area, the National Weather Service has issued the following weather warning.  A severe winter storm is forecast to begin snowing heavily at 2pm local time with heavy snow levels accumulating to 3 to 4 feet, drifting 6 to 8 feet.”  The rest of the warning went unheard as I grabbed my two bags, the note I’d written, and ran to the front door.  I dropped the bags on the floor, still clutching the note, as I saw my plans end.  Opening the front door I slowly walk outside into the dark, the snow had already been falling.  Big fat fluffy flakes so thick I could barely see the light at the end of the driveway.  Looking over to the garage door, “No, no no no, no!”  The drift was already a good 2 feet tall.  For a split second I thought about taking his damned truck.  It would easily clear that drift.

“What the hell are you doing?” James yelled from the open front door, looking between me and the bags on the floor.

Taking one last glance at the pile of snow blocking the garage door, I turn back to the house, “Well, I was going to leave you.”  I slapped my note into his chest.  Pushing past him, I collected my bags and slowly made my way back to the room that I had claimed as my own a week before.

“What the fuck!?” James yelled just before slamming the front door closed.

I kept walking dejectedly.  Making it back to the room, I tossed the backpack onto the bed and just stood there clutching the carry on.  I could hear James come storming down the stairs.  “What the fuck?  You are leaving me?”  I turned.  His usually glacier blue eyes now a threatening dark blue filled with rage.

“Well, mother nature said no” as I motioned to the now very dark window.  “Not tonight anyway.”

I heard the paper flutter to the floor.  “Why?”  The pain in his voice was natural, not forced.  It pinched my heart.

I turned to him but couldn’t look him in the eye.  “What was the one thing I asked of you when we started dating?”  He just stood there.  Then I did look at his face.  He was obviously thinking.  “I asked you to not compare me to the exes.”  He nodded slowly.  “I am not them and the exes are not me” I raged at him.  The rage fading from his eyes.  “But ever since you got home from the tour, you have been … well …”

“A dick” he finished my sentence.

“Yes” I snapped.  I put the carryon I was still holding on the bed.  “You have done nothing but compare me to them for months.”  I turned back to him, “The final straw was when you started counting your cash.”  His eyebrows knitted together.  “Every night before you go to bed, you count the cash in your pocket, put it in your wallet which you put on your nightstand.  Then in the morning after you shower and get dressed, you count it again.”  His fingers twitched as he processed what I said.  “I don’t need your money.”  He just looked at me.  “I have my own career and my own bank account.”  He continued to stare at me.  “I could have taken your damned $90 thousand dollar truck and left you the Shelby that I paid $125 thousand for.”  He cocked his head but didn’t ask.  I answered anyway.  “Taking your truck I would have gotten pulled over by your state trooper friends in a heartbeat.  That would be a felony.  And you would have no say if I got arrested or not.”  I turned away from him shaking slightly.  “Right now, you are not worth a felony on my record.”  I moved to the desk and sank into the chair.

He looked around the room.  The realization hit him, “When did your stuff get down here?”

I huffed a smile, “James, I moved down here a week ago.”  He looked at me.  “You didn’t notice that I wasn’t sleeping in your bed?”

His hands kinda flapped uselessly, “I thought you were coming to bed after me and getting up before…”

“Thanks for noticing” I said sorta like Eeyore.

His eyebrows knitted together again, “But the sheets got changed.”

“Yes they did” I just looked up at him.

“And the kitchen … the dishes … the laundry …”

“The grocery shopping, collecting the mail, dusting” I looked down at my hands. 

“Why?”

“Who else was gonna do it?” I dug back at him.  “It’s not like you’d do any of those things.”  He huffed a moment but didn’t say anything.  “I wanted to hire a cleaning team, but you went almost mental on me about that.”

“I don’t want someone just rummaging through my shit” he flared.

“I understand that” I tried to stay calm.  “But there are teams that specialize in people of your status.  Plus” I pointed to the monitors on the desk, “I have a job!  One that I enjoy!” my temper trying to flare.  I leaned my elbows on the desk rubbing my eyes. 

He was quiet for a minute.  “Look, this storm is going to blow for a couple of days” he said trying to stay calm.  “Let’s get some sleep.”  I just nodded.  He stepped backwards out of the room collecting the note from the floor, “We can talk in the morning.”  He softly closed the door.

I looked at the closed door.  His cologne lingered.  More than just his cologne.  Him.  The tears started to fall.  I let them.  Sniffling, I decided to take a soak in the tub.  Starting the water, I dumped in some salts from the cupboard, then sank into the hot water.  I mulled over the past 8 months.  The good, the bad.  More tears.  When the water turned cool, I got out, drained the tub and climbed into the bed.  The heat from the soak worked a charm and I was asleep in minutes.

I woke up still wrapped in the towel from the tub soak.  I slipped out of the bed, pulling on jammies and a robe.  I opened the bedroom door.  I could hear that James was in his studio.  It was a super crunchy riff floating through the house.  Smiling to myself, I went into the kitchen.  Pulling out what I needed to make a breakfast sandwich, I looked at the items on the counter.  It’s just as easy to make three as just one.  I left two on a plate in the fridge covered with a paper towel, with “Zap for 30 seconds” written on it.  I left another note on the counter, “Breakfast in fridge.”  Collecting my sandwich, a granola bar and a couple cans of Severed Lime from the fridge, I returned to my room.  Pulling my computer out of my backpack, I logged into work.

My chat window opened:

Boss:  You make the flight?

Me: No.  Got snowed in.

Boss:  You ok?

Me:  Meh

Boss:  Wanna talk?

Me:  Not right now.

Me:  I’m going Marinas Trench.  I need to get the last three chapters done.  They’re late.

Boss:  Understood.  Don’t worry about being late.  I’ll put in a good word for ya!

Me:  Thanks.

I clicked on the Out of Office option.  Then opened the files I needed from the New York servers and ate my sandwich waiting for the computers to synch.  Once done, I launched into where I’d left off.

I had no idea how long I’d been working until there was a soft knock on the door.  “Hey?” came James’ voice.

I turned to the door, “Yeah?”

“May I come in?”

Stretching, “Yeah.”

James came in and leaned against the wall.  “You sleep ok?”

Uncurling my legs from the chair, “Yes, thank you.”  Looking over at him.  “You?”

“Yeah, ok” he said.  He looked like shit.

I cocked a smile at him, “Liar.”

He huffed a laugh, “I don’t think I slept at all.”  He scrubbed his fingers through his silvered hair.  “Thanks for the breakfast sandwiches.”

I nodded, “You’re welcome.”  He kept trying to look at my computer monitors.  “What are you doing?”

“I guess I don’t know exactly what your job is.”

Patting the end of the bed, “Sit” I said.  He sat and leaned forward.  “I’m an editor.”  I rotated back to face the monitors.  “This screen is the book I’m working on” pointing to the monitor on the right.  “This screen” motioning to the one on my left, “are my notes.  The laptop in the middle just keeps me awake.”  I paused the cheesy disaster movie.

“Why the notes?” his curiosity was genuine.

“Well .. here” I pointed to a block of text highlighted on the right screen.  “The author has brought in a new character that has no backstory.  If this character was just in this paragraph it wouldn’t matter, but it shows up several more times.”  Pointing to the text on the left monitor with matching highlighting, “These are my notes back to the author asking about a backstory for this character.” 

James shifted to my left so see the screen.  “And how many notes does this author have from you?”

“On this book” I looked to the page count in the lower left corner of the window, “92.”

“Really?” he seemed shocked.

Stretching out my back, “Yeah, this guy tends to get lost in his own words.  So, I have to try to get him back out of the woods.”  I turned back towards James.  “You have never asked about my job before.  Why now?”

He sat back and looked at me.  “Because your note is correct.”  He rubbed his hands nervously on his thighs, “I haven’t taken any interest in you … outside of the bedroom.”

I heaved a sigh, “I probably should have edited my own writing.”

“No” his eyes popped up to my face.  “No.  You were right.  You were probably pissed as hell when you wrote that note.”  He ran his hands through his hair – which he did when he was nervous.  “But every word was true.  I have treated you like a whore.  I have compared you to the exes.  I have not discovered you … about you.”  His shoulders slumped some.  “I am sorry.”

That hit my heart.  Hard.  I rested my fingers on his knees.  “James.  I can accept your apology.”  His glacier blue eyes found mine.  “I can see that you mean it.”  Those gloriously blue pools now filled with doubt.  “But you will have to work on the forgiveness.”  I withdrew my fingers from his knees slowly.

Nodding, “I completely understand.”  His smile slightly lopsided.  “Will you please give me the chance to earn that forgiveness?”

I watched him a moment.  Then, smiling back at him, “Yes” I said softly.  His eyes brightened along with his smile as he stood.  “By the way” I looked up at him – damn but he’s tall.  “I really liked that crunch you had going this morning.  It sounded amazing!”

Incredibly, his eyes lit up even more, “You really liked that?”

“Yes” I smiled up at him.

“Thanks.”  He fidgeted.  “Uhmm, what would you like for dinner?”

“What time is it?” I asked looking at my computer screen.

“It’s like 3pm.  But since you made breakfast, I thought I’d make dinner.”

Nodding at him, “I will leave that to the chef.”

Nodding as he moved towards the door, “You like your steak …?”

Smiling at him, “Medium Rare.”  He closed the door with a grin.  My head was laughing Of course it would be steak!  My laptop pinged.

Boss:  Surface to Marianas Trench…. (I love my boss!)

Me:  evening.

Boss:  How’s it going?

Me:  Half way through last chapter.

Boss:  And the other thing…..?

Me:  Perhaps there is a chance here.

Boss:  ????

Me:  He just invited me to dinner.

Boss:  I thought it was snowing there still.

I took a picture out the window of the thickly falling snow and attached it to the chat.

Boss:  So?

Me:  He’s making me a steak.

Boss:  Ahh.  Well, then you need to go get ready!

Me:  Right after I finish this chapter.  Then I’m all caught up on this book.

Boss:  Fine. 

Boss:  Hope it goes well!

Me:  Thanks!

I finished the last chapter fairly quickly since it was not a complete chapter.  Saving both files to the servers and sending the links to the author – with the boss cc’d on that email – I closed down my computer.  Standing up and stretching, I moved to the bathroom.  I decided to take a shower and wash my hair.  If James was going to put in the effort to change, so could I.  No more being a slob.  I sat on the bed drying my hair when there was a tap on the door.  I popped up and grabbed the robe.  “Yes?”  No answer.  I opened the door.  There hanging on the light fixture in the hallway was a garment bag.  A postit note stuck to it.  Dinner at 6pm.   Smiling, I collected the bag and closed the door.  Laying the bag on the bed I opened it.  I only got about 6 inches open when I gasped.  Inside was a dark green velvet gown with beaded trim around the scoop neckline.  It was the dress I’d told him about.  I’d even made him watch the movie.  James had had it made.  He’d threatened to have it made for me to wear to the next awards show.  But I never thought he’d do it.  That was just a month or so after we’d started dating.  I looked at the clock.  5pm.  I had time.  I went back into the bathroom and did some tidying up.  Did my makeup and pinned up the hair.  I knew that he loved my long hair, but this gown … the hair had to be up.  Going back to the bed, I pulled the gown from the bag.  I slipped into it.  With the plunging back to just above my ass, I was completely commando beneath it.  I went to move the garment bag and it felt heavy.  Patting it down, I discovered a pair of heels.  They glittered with the same rhinestones as the trim.  Just as I slipped them on, there was a single tap at the door.  I opened the door.  The hallway was empty.  But there was a pink post it note on the floor.  Squatting down – if I’d bent over the gown would have slipped off me – I picked it up.  There was a doodle on it.  I couldn’t figure it out.  But looking up the hallway was another post it.  Another doodle.  As I walked to the stairs, there were more postit notes.  Each with a doodle.  I climbed the stairs and turned into the living room.  There stood James.  In his Brioni tux.  The sight took my breath.  Damn!  He looked good!  And he was holding another postit note, a crooked smile on his face.  He held it out to me.  The doodle on this one was a rose.

“Oh!”  I held out the ones I’d collected, “These are rose petals!”

Blushing, “Yeah, I couldn’t go get a real rose, so I improvised.”

I gently collected the one he held, “It’s lovely.”  I looked up into his eyes, “Thank you.”

James held out his hand to me – which I took – and he slowly spun me.  “I should have given this to you ages ago.”  He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it.  “You look stunning.”  I just blushed.  James tucked my hand into his elbow and gently led me down the hallway away from the kitchen and into the formal dining room.  He’d set the table.  There were candles on it and two place settings.  He pulled out the chair for me and scooched it in when I sat.  “The staff seems to have not reported to work this evening, so I will have to substitute” he said in a really bad French accent.  I giggled.  His eyes lit up.  “I shall return madam.”  I giggled even more.  James disappeared into the kitchen.  I put the pile of post it note petals on the table.  He returned with two plates.  Each bore a steak, a pile of green beans and a large slice of bread smothered in butter.  I smiled.  He was trying.  I cut into the steak and took a bite.

“How is it?” James asked.

Swallowing, “Perfection” I said.  He dug into his own.  I took a bite of the green beans.  A couple were still pretty frosty.  I didn’t say a word, but just smiled.  The bread was a garlic sourdough that I loved.  The butter was a bit much, but again, I wasn’t going to complain.  James had obviously put some thought into making dinner and I wasn’t going to ruin it.  I’d had worse meals. 

“The weather is forecasting that this snow will last another 48 hours or so” James said.

The weather.  A safe place to start.  “I haven’t listened to the weather or news today.”

“Did you get your book done?” James leaned towards me.

“I did.”

“How many do you edit?” his blue eyes clear and piercing.

“Uhm.  I have about 20 items in the wings to work on.”  I took a sip of the Squeezed to Death Orange in my glass.  He’d used champagne flutes for the sparkling water.

“Why so many?” James looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“Some are just articles.”  I put my fork down, “It all depends on release dates.  The one I worked on today is supposed to release after the New Year.  The others have release dates after that one.”

“It has nothing to do with whom the author is?”

Pushing my plate away and leaning on the table, “Sometimes.  All depends on the author and release dates.”  I looked at him.  He was genuinely interested.  “If it’s big wig author and the release date is close, then that file gets bumped to the top of the pile.”

“Who is the biggest author you have edited?”  His smile was slightly crooked.

“I don’t get the Mitchell’s or the King’s”  I grinned.

“Why not?”

“My boss says that I’m too brutal with my notes” I slow blinked him.

James sat up.  “Yeah, you can be.”  He used his napkin on his lips.  “But perhaps they need those brutal notes.”  He smiled at me.  “As a recipient, I can attest that it kicked my ass into changing how I think.”  He held out a hand to me.  I laid my fingers into it.  “And I thank you.”  I didn’t know what to say.  He simply laid his other hand over my fingers and smiled at me.  Then he popped up, “Dessert” he said collecting our plates.  I squirmed in my seat.  My thoughts ranging all over the place.  He had totally messed me up.  Again.  Just like he had when we’d met.  He returned with two small plates.  Piled creatively on each were four sandwich cookies held in place with cake frosting and topped with whipped cream.  He set them down with great flourish, “Tah dah!”

Trying my best to not snort out a laugh, “I’m sure that the patisserie chef labored all day to create these delicacies.”  James did snort out a laugh.  Which made me burst out in laughter.  I picked up one of the cookies and happily munched it.  James retook his seat and tucked into his plate.  “Seriously, these turned out pretty good” I said licking whipped cream from my fingers.

“The frosting isn’t too much?” James asked seriously.

“No.  It’s just the right amount” I said scooping the last bit up on my finger.

James grabbed my hand and gently sucked the frosting from my finger.  I didn’t retract my hand but did go a little stiff.  He kissed the back of my hand before pushing it back tenderly towards my body, smiling at me.  “I’m sorry” he said kindly.  “Just a little too soon.”

Looking down at my now empty dessert plate, “Maybe not” I said softly.  I knew he couldn’t see it, but my thighs squeezed together tightly.

“Perhaps I should escort the lady back to her room” he said looking down at his plate, “before I make a compete fool of myself.  Again.”  He smiled at me as he stood, offering me his hand.

I took his offered hand, collected the postit notes and stood.  He tenderly tucked my hand into his elbow and walked me back to the room I’d claimed as mine.  I turned at the door, “That was lovely James.”  I again slow blinked him, “Thank you.”  I wiggled his bow tie, then let my hand rest on his chest, “You look very handsome in this suit.”

He gently cupped my face and kissed my forehead.  “Thank you” he said softly.  His hands gently ran down my shoulders then arms to my hands, “I can’t wait to see you in this gown again.”  He lifted both my hands to his lips and kissed them.  “Good night.”  He took several steps backwards before turning.  I turned and opened the bedroom door.  I put the post it rose petals on the desk.  I kicked off the heels and then shrugged and let the gown slip off.  I stood there naked.  My desires wanted to race up to his room and let him have his way with me.  My integrity said no.  My curiosity wanted to know what James would do next.  Hanging the gown up, I decided another soak was in order.  I unpacked my waterproof vibrator on the way into the bathroom.

I was sound asleep.  I felt his hand on my shoulder, “Kira” he said softly.  He shook me slightly, “Kira, wake up.”  I opened my eyes to find James standing by the bed holding my robe.  “There’s something I want to show you.”  I fumbled out of the bed.  James helped me into the robe and then tucked me into his side, his left arm draping from my right shoulder down to my waist on the left side.  Wearing a huge coat and scarf, he guided me to the big sliding doors to the upper patio.  “Here, put these on.”  He guided my feet into a pair of fuzzy boots, then put on his own mukluks.  He opened the door and led me outside.  It was bitterly cold, trying to suck the air from my lungs.  James lifted the collar of the robe to cover my mouth, “Here this will help.”  It did make breathing easier.  I looked up and he had the scarf wrapped around his own mouth.  He opened his coat and his arms gently held my back close to his chest.  Then he pointed.  I followed his finger.

The clouds had parted and the sky was filled with stars.  The landscape was a blanket of white snow as far as I could see. The bitterly cold temperatures had crystalized the top of the snow.  The moon was rising.  It was reflecting on the frozen crystals making them glitter.  It looked like diamonds had been scattered over the ground.  “Here it comes!” he whispered excitedly into my ear, his breath warming my ear and neck.  I shivered.  My nipples hardened painfully.  Then the Aurora flared into life.  An undulating ribbon of greens, blues and purples danced into the sky.  I gasped.  The frozen snow below reflected the colors of the Aurora.  James wrapped his arms around me, one around my shoulders the other around my waist.  I leaned back into his warmth watching the magic of nature unfold in front of me.  I have no idea how long we stood there speechless at the beauty.  As quickly as it started, it ended.  “Wow” was all James said.

I leaned back into him, looking up at his chin, “Thank you for waking me.”  He hugged me tighter.  “That was stunning.”

His hands patted my body, “I am glad I shared it with you.”  He nodded towards the distant pass “And here comes the next round of snow.”  The clouds looked black and nasty in the now darkened sky since the Aurora had faded.

James kissed the top of my head.  “Now, you are shivering.  Let’s get back inside.”  He rotated us, his arms still wrapped around me.  We walked – a little awkwardly – back into the house, closing the big glass door behind him.  We both kicked off our boots.  He backed us into the sofa, pulling me down into his lap.  He reached over and pulled up a blanket.  He wrapped it around us.  I curled up into his arms shivering, my head resting on his chest.  His fingers gently stroked my hair.  Sleep reached up and grabbed me.

I woke up on the sofa with the blankets tucked in around me still wrapped up in my robe.  I could hear James in the kitchen.  I sat up.  “Morning sleepy head!” he chimed cheerily.  “Coffee?”  All I could do was nod.  He brought over my favorite mug filled with coffee.  I took a sip.  It was super sweet.  “Too much sugar?”  I nodded.  He went to pull the mug from my hands but I wouldn’t let it go. 

Instead I took a couple of huge slugs from it, “Now, just put more coffee into it and it will be fine.”  James went to the kitchen and grabbed the coffee pot bringing it back to me.  He filled my mug.  I swirled the mug and took a drink.  Smiling, “Yum” I beamed.  I looked out the window.  More snow had fallen over night.  The sky was still filled with grey snow clouds, but not snowing.  At the moment.

James collected his mug and sank into the sofa with me.  He flipped on the TV and tuned in the local news.  There were the stories about roofs collapsing under the weight of the snow, power lines down, cars sliding off the roads – one accident ending in a death.  “I’m glad you were smart enough to not drive that night” James whispered to me.

“Me too.”

I looked into his eyes.  The passion I saw there made my knees weak.  I reached up and wrapped my fingers around his head, pulling him to me.  I kissed him gently.  His eyes widened.  He cupped my head and kissed me back just as tenderly.  “So how are we going to spend the next day or so?” I asked teasingly.

James tightened his arm around my waist pinning me to his body, “I can think of a way” he rubbed his hands on my hips, “or two.”  He gently pushed me back, “Only if you want to.” 

I could tell that although his voice was joking, his eyes said that he’d changed.  I was no longer just a fuck buddy.  I was a woman that he wanted to spend time with.  In more ways than one.

“I’d like that” I purred.  “Just remember, you are still working on my forgiveness.”

He showered kisses all over my face, slowly pulling me towards his bedroom, “I know a way to start working on that” he growls softly at me. 

I just smiled and willingly let him lead me.

[f0rlorn]

hi! i literally love your treech fics so much! do you think you could write a treech x mentor!reader where she goes to see him at the zoo the night before the games (a bit like coryo and lucy gray)?

kiss of life → treech

treech!tbosas x reader

notes → in which love and life are fleeting as you say your final goodbye to treech. (i stole dialogue directly from the book for this LOL)

warnings → not edited & uploaded via iphone.

     “treech?” you whispered out into the dark. faint hints of moonlight peeked in through the clouds, becoming the only source of illumination in the pitch black of the night. falteringly, you crept closer to the bars of the monkey house, eyes scanning for a sight of your tribute you had grown rather fond of.

     “y/n,” he answered, and you followed the sound of his voice, which had turned far more gravelly since the last time he had spoken to you. once you had located him, you scampered over to the boy, eyes lighting up.

     “thank goodness you’re okay,” you cried, placing a hand to his face. you hadn’t gotten to see him after the explosion in the arena, and you wanted to make sure that he was alright. “gosh, i can’t believe they’re still making you go in there tomorrow!” tense, heavy air settled between the two of you.

     “i’ll be alright. me and the pack got a plan,” he reassured you as your fingers snuck into his hair, which had become rather matted since his arrival in the capitol.

     “just… don’t trust them too much. keep a good distance, please. i have a feeling they’re just going to use you.” you cautioned him, voice unsteadied by worry. the pair from four scared you the most. they had fierce determination in levels you had never witnessed before. while it was admirable, it was rightfully daunting.

     “thank you. for what you’ve done for me. i really have a chance now, ‘cause of you.” although his expression was blank, you could see in his eyes that he meant what he had said. pangs of guilt struck you, as you felt there was so much more you could have done for him. nonetheless, a tender smile made its way across your face.

     “it’s my job. i can’t let you die in there, you mean too much to me.. not just as my tribute, but you. you matter to me. you’re the most incredible boy i’ve ever met.” you confessed, eyes beginning to brim with salty tears, devastated that you would have to part with him when the night came to an end.

     “don’t cry over me, y/n. especially because i’m going to win. for you.” treech promised with certainty. the immense wholeheartedness of his tone brought you an ounce of optimism, and you couldn’t help but add on.

     “i’ll be there in the arena with you. we’ll win together. and once you’re announced victor and i get the plinth prize, i can buy you and your family a way into the capitol,” you suggested. a rather farfetched idea, but desperation and maybe even love had clouded your vision and infiltrated your thoughts. you shouldn’t allow your fantasies to get the best of you, but they all seemed too real as treech became an honest contender to win the tenth annual hunger games. he humored your idea, even though it may not have been possible, as he reached for your hand, squeezing it firmly. his calloused palm, having seen years of labor and hardships, juxtaposed against your softer one. the feeling truly highlighted the difference in your upbringing compared to his own. never had your living conditions led you to have to get a job, or even consider it. you couldn’t imagine having to do so for years in order to make ends meet. it hurt you that treech was not able to make the most of his childhood.

     you and treech had come a long way since the first time you had met him at the zoo. two weeks may not have been that long of a time, but it seemed like an eternity to the two of you, as each day you grew closer to the boy. he seemed to warm up to you more and more with each gift and lingering touch you had left him. originally, treech was quite cautious of you. he didn’t think he could trust you, knowing you were capitol, supposedly endorsing the very systems that wanted to kill him, while still claiming to want to help him. but over the course of the twelve days treech had spent in the capitol, more vulnerable than ever, he realized that not every citizen there had as much ill intent as he once believed, or at least, you didn’t. you too discovered that the district people were not at all like the animals your family made them out to be. they were humans, like yourself. of course, you had been wary when your parents made claims of the district people drinking blood and turning to means of savagery, but it had always lingered in the back of your mind. that was, until you met your tribute. the boy like quality of his aura diminished any doubt you had left of the children being bestial, replaced by guilt that you had ever felt that way in the first place.

     as his hands entwined with yours, you managed to slip your silver bracelet onto his wrist, something you had been waiting for the perfect time to do. treech looked at you with confusion. “it’s my good luck charm,” you explained, as he inspected the jewelry. “it may just be like a placebo effect or something, but it helps me feel better. i want you to have it. as a loan. you can return it to me once you win the games.” you claimed, ever so confident of your statement.

     “you’re all i’m going to think about in there.” treech admitted. in that moment, your temptations overcame you, and you gave into the desire to kiss the boy. sure, it was rather uncomfortable for the both of you, necks strained as you both tried to reach the other through the bars, but none of that mattered the moment his lips met yours. the feeling alone sent sparks through your body. you felt reenergized, now more than ever as his kiss breathed new purpose into you. when he pulled away, you were left hungry for more.

     “we can pick this back up after the games,” treech promised you, giving you one last knowing glance before the two of you parted ways. the games would commence, but underneath all of your anxiousness, a flicker of hope had sparked.

[littencloud9]

hi. have my current mtp thoughts.

the moriarty siblings genuinely devastate me what the fuck. albert, who’s ridden by remorse since the day he committed his ‘original sin’, who feels his mere existence burdens william, who sees their relationship as his selfish desire and thus remains guilty for years.

and then william, who tries to carry all their sins alone, for he doesn’t want to drag albert or louis with him, even though they’re a team. he is so kind, shockingly so when you compare it to the crimes he’s committed, and he carries his sins until he can’t bear it, and EVEN THEN!! even then he only lets albert see him like this because while they’re not blood brothers, they’re bonded by their shared crime. AND YET. and yet william sees his own vulnerability as a burden on albert’s shoulders, and thinks he should’ve kept it hidden, just to ease his conscience.

and thats not even mentioning LOUIS!! [head in hands] he stays in his brothers’ shadows this whole time, simply following their plans or taking care of the mansion. and yet he’s just as capable as his brothers. AND HE LOVES THEM SO MUCH. they protect him so much but all he wants is for them to take care of themselves, and he KNOWS they’re sinking under the weight of their responsibility but he isnt ever able to reach them. and when the final plan comes in, he can’t follow through. ARGH!!!

u know what. the group dynamic made me emo too. the way none of them wanted william to die, that all of them knew there was another way, but william felt that that was the only way he can atone to his sins. that it was his destiny set since the day he was born. and they all reacted so differently—louis and fred went to sherlock for help (and when you remember that louis was ready to eliminate sherlock the moment he was no longer useful to william, it makes that moment all the more better. because thats when you (and louis too) realise that sherlock isnt a pawn in the game, never was, and instead hes a friend. and a friend was who william needed at his lowest). there was moran who couldnt bear his own betrayal (it isnt betrayal. it was his heart.) and swore his life to carrying on william’s legacy. and albert who fell back into the shadows that he once was in before meeting the others.

do u ever think how william is so shrouded in darkness and his crimes and everything. and yet he was everyone’s light. how sherlock was london’s beacon of hope, but to the lord of crime group, it was william. to sherlock, it was william. to everyone who knew him well, william was their sunshine. HEAD IN HANDS

and sherliam’s dynamic. you werent just a pawn in my game, william says. you werent just a puzzle for me to solve, sherlock says. the words you’re a friend, you mean more to me than i ever thought, i want to save you, do you feel the same? go unsaid. the game of hide and chase throughout the story. how william’s entire plan, his whole DESTINY, was to die, and how when falling off the bridge together, sherlock tells him to live. let’s live together, he says. cling onto life, cling onto the people around you, we love you, don’t go. and that care is what surprised william the most—sherlock came as a friend, he feels the same.

the way sherliam are equals in every sense, yet different, yet the same. they have the same height and mind and kindness deep in their hearts. william is london’s darkness and sherlock is london’s light. yet william has light hair and sherlock has dark hair—there’s kindness in evil and evil in kindness.

the inherent intimacy of mr. holmes to sherlock to sherly, and professor moriarty to liam. and i think it’s interesting how sherlock skipped to the nickname stage so much faster than william. for it shows that he was more comfortable with the idea of getting close than william was. william remains more guarded, not wanting to drag sherlock into madness (i didnt think he’d kill a man this early), so only in his final moments does he say sherly. only then does he accept it.

anyway. im not even done with the manga LMAO. [on my knees] this story is so well-written and so hurtful and every arc was beautiful but the characters truly hooked me. every one of them and their dynamic is so lovely (i didnt touch on sherlock and john but i LOVE them and the scene of sherlock promising to take better care of himself for john was so great and also he never got to attend john’s wedding and im gonna go cry) and real. sorry if u read through my babbling mess. xoxo 💓

[d-andilion]

sing me a tragedy

(geraskier, E, canon compliant, blood origin spoilers, getting together, angst with a happy ending, vague and handwavy smut, it barely counts tbh, 2.6k)

read on ao3

Hidden in the underground, far from the beaten path, Geralt watches his bard whip a crowd of humanity’s most despised into a beer-fueled frenzy. Not to earn their supper or their lodgings this time; the elf who owns this worn but well-loved waystation refused to accept coin for either after what the Sandpiper did for her grandson, seeing the boy on a ship to her arms. Right now, Jaskier plays because their fellow patrons chanted his name until he obliged. 

Geralt has to admit that Jaskier has more than proven himself as a travel companion these past few weeks. Since leaving the safety of Kaer Morhen, Ciri in Yennefer’s care for the season, finding places to keep their heads low has been a challenge. A challenge, at least, among humans. The Sandpiper, however, has won great favor with elves, dwarves, halflings, and just about every other intelligent species on the Continent. In their carefully concealed taverns and speakeasies, Jaskier is received like royalty.

“Sing loud and proud

The Song of the Seven

Be you halfling or gnome,

Or Dwarven or Elven”

This song is a new one. In fairness, most of Jaskier’s tunes are new to Geralt these days. Jaskier hasn’t abandoned his older repertoire, but he avoids large swathes of it to ward off any unwelcome attention. This one, though, feels different than the other additions to Jaskier’s catalog since their parting. More heroics than heartbreak, and a fiery call to action that sets it apart from his typical drama and sensation.

So much about Jaskier is different than Geralt remembers, his songs being the least of it. A few years is nothing in the grand scheme of their history, even less compared to all the years Geralt has lived, but it feels as though decades have slipped between his fingers. So many things have changed, things that Geralt didn’t realize he’d come to see as fixtures in his world until they disappeared, some of them forever. 

There’s the lute, for one thing. Jaskier has been cagey about how exactly a brand new elven lute came to be in his possession after the first one was destroyed against the side of his head, but it plays as beautifully for him as Filavandrel’s ever did. It’s nearly identical in style, too, with dark wood and golden patterns etched into it. Anyone who didn’t spend half a lifetime watching Jaskier’s long fingers dance along the strings would never be able to tell that this lute’s pattern of markings is different from its predecessor’s.

There’s the outfit, too. The waistcoat is similar enough to patterns and styles that Jaskier has worn before, but the hat and jacket make him look like a third-rate imitation of a storybook pirate. It’s nothing at all like the bright-colored matching ensembles he used to wear, though it’s nearly as impractical if not more so. Geralt honestly can’t tell if he hates it because it’s ridiculous or because it doesn’t fit into the gallery of bold greens and soft blues and glaring reds that roll through his mind when he thinks of his bard.

And there’s the bard himself, of course. Not really Geralt’s anymore if he ever was. He’s still loud and dramatic and filled to the brim with useless romantic notions about what the world is or ought to be. But there’s something lurking underneath it all now, something harder and fiercer behind his eyes than anything Geralt has seen in him before. The harshness of a man who’s seen the senseless death and darkness of war. The bitterness of one who’s been left behind and expects to be again.

There’s none of that in him when he performs, though. Or else he hides it far more efficiently. Even to Geralt’s honed eye, Jaskier exudes only joy when he sings.

“No oppressor can hide them

Carry their glories and rise!”

Jaskier finishes with a roaring flourish and the crowd chants his words back to him twice as loud. This Song of the Seven may be more popular than Toss a coin ever was. Geralt has never seen an audience warm so quickly to a new tune, much less poor folk in a war-torn country. These people need hope now more than anything.

The barkeep pushes a pair of ales at Jaskier as he passes by and refuses to take a cent for them despite Jaskier’s best efforts. He finally gives up when she threatens him with a broom, turning to Geralt’s dark corner of the room. 

“That’s new,” says Geralt as Jaskier sits down, passing a stein to his side of the table.

Jaskier crooks an eyebrow at him and smirks. “I’m surprised you noticed.”

Geralt doesn’t know what to say to that. Before, he might not have thought twice about teasing so light as that, but this, too, has changed. Sometimes there’s banter and sometimes there are digs from that snarl of discontent that still rears up between them, and Geralt can never really be sure which he’s getting.

Jaskier takes pity on him, smiling easily. “It came from a story I heard in Temeria,” he says. “There’s a bard in it, you know. And a witcher.”

He looks for a moment like he means to say more, but then the corner of his mouth twists sharply and he snaps it shut with an audible click. Jaskier smiles again, this time cruel and close-lipped. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he says.

Before Geralt can think of anything to say, any comfort or correction to whatever it is he’s done wrong this time, Jaskier stands up and flees to a nearby table of dwarves. He doesn’t look back.

An hour or so later, the revelry dies down and the bar room clears out but for a few stragglers. Jaskier is among them, across the room now from Geralt at an empty table with a drink Geralt knows is almost completely full. Geralt watched the bard carefully while he made round after round of the room, soaking up the occupants’ stories and sharing his own entirely fabricated ones. Half a dozen rounds were shoved into Jaskier’s hands, and he took them gratefully with bright smiles, but he abandoned them just as quickly when their givers were occupied.

When Geralt found Jaskier in Oxenfurt, he couldn’t be parted from a bottle for his life. Now his drinking comes and goes. Some days he dulls his senses with wine from dusk till dawn. Some days are like this: feigning all the trappings of a man in his cups without downing more than a mouthful. 

Geralt leaves his own stein half-full with a few coins beside it and turns for Jaskier’s table. Another Geralt might have left his friend to sulk, but that Geralt wouldn’t have used the word ‘friend’ to describe Jaskier, not even in his head. This one is trying to make amends, still, all these many months later. 

If Jaskier hears him coming, he doesn’t show it. Geralt sits on the bench beside him, facing out towards the room with his back against the table, and Jaskier doesn’t give him so much as a glance. Their shoulders just barely brush.

“Tell me your story,” says Geralt. “About the bard and the witcher.”

Jaskier fixes him with a confused frown. “It doesn’t—”

“Tell me anyway.”

Geralt watches Jaskier watch him through a long, pregnant pause. Blue eyes, still so bright in the low light, search Geralt’s face and he can’t tell whether they find what they’re looking for or not. Either way, Jaskier huffs a humorless laugh to himself and speaks.

“It was a long time ago, just before the Conjunction.”

Jaskier pauses again like he’s waiting for Geralt to correct him. There were no witchers before the Conjunction; there was no need for them. Geralt doesn’t say so, though. Instead, he waits patiently for Jaskier to continue.

“The witcher was a warrior,” he says. “A protector, wrongfully exiled for defiling a princess.”

Jaskier eyes Geralt again, warier this time. Geralt feels that twist in his gut the way he always does, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“The bard was a runaway, fleeing a life that was chosen for her.” Jaskier grins at that, small and wistful. “Fate brought them together, but they chose to walk side by side.”

It’s not a pretty story, exactly, but it’s the kind of story that has always caught Jaskier’s attention. A ragtag group of heroes, an indomitable foe, magic, monsters, and romance to tie it all together. It might even be true for all Geralt knows. The way Jaskier tells it, his voice soft and his phrases unembellished, so unlike his usual way of weaving tales, makes the whole thing almost believable. They’ve all seen stranger things.

Geralt doesn’t miss the shift in the air around Jaskier when he talks about the Lark and her witcher. His heart beats just the slightest bit faster and his scent deepens imperceptibly to anyone who doesn’t know it better than their own. Geralt isn’t blind to his own reaction either, the heaviness in his chest that grows and grows.

Contrary to popular belief, Geralt isn’t stupid. It’s not that he doesn’t know how much he wants Jaskier. The depths of that desire plunge too deep to go unnoticed, and it has holed up inside him for so long, he doesn’t know who he would be without it. It’s not that he doesn’t know how Jaskier feels either. The bard isn’t subtle and he has never insulted either of their intelligence by pretending to be.

What Geralt doesn’t know has never been the problem. It’s what he does know. And what he knows, has always known, is that acting on his wants would be a singularly terrible idea.

But that was before. Before Geralt’s own Child Surprise foretold the end of the world and all of them with it. Before he landed with his own feet in another sphere of demons and monsters beyond his wildest imaginings. Before all of them wound up tangled in a war with nightmares, more terrifying than any foolish mistake, hidden around every corner.

Before Geralt knew what it felt like to lose Jaskier. And before he knew with crushing certainty that to have done so without ever knowing what it felt like to have Jaskier, really have him, is worse than any fear Geralt has ever felt.

“She killed him, in the end, to end his suffering,” says Jaskier softly.

“Not a very happy story,” Geralt replies.

“Some of the best stories are tragedies. It’s romantic.”

Geralt frowns. “But he dies at the end.”

Jaskier smiles miserably. “I think you and I both know that love doesn’t always have a happy ending.”

That plucks something sharp in Geralt’s chest, something that twists at the bitter shadow in Jaskier’s eyes. Fuck it, Geralt thinks, fuck all of it. He takes Jaskier's chin between his thumb and his forefinger and kisses him before good sense can frighten either of them away again. 

There’s a gut-wrenching fraction of a second where Jaskier’s mouth is still against Geralt’s, but within the same heartbeat, he’s kissing back and back and back. Jaskier’s hand curls around Geralt’s wrist, holding himself in place as if Geralt would ever let him go now. His lips part for Geralt’s tongue with a soft groan and he tastes like his last sip of ale. Geralt feels drunk on it, on Jaskier, the plush warmth of his mouth, and the scent of his growing arousal filling Geralt’s nose. 

The harsh scrape of chair legs on a wooden floor startles them apart. Geralt’s head snaps up to find the barkeep straightening her stools, eyes focused downward but a knowing grin on her lips.

When he turns back, Jaskier hasn’t pulled away but his uneasy expression says that the thought is playing on his mind. He looks at Geralt like he’s waiting to be pushed away, even as he clutches Geralt’s wrist. Geralt pulls Jaskier back to him, fingers still cradling the bard’s chin, until their noses brush. 

“What are you doing?” Jaskier asks and his hot breath rolls over Geralt’s lips carrying the taste of his mouth to Geralt’s tongue, and even that faint echo makes Geralt’s heart stutter.

“Kicking off another tragedy, I expect.”

Jaskier pushes their foreheads together. “You can still stop this one.”

“No,” says Geralt and it feels like surrender. “No, I can’t.”

The small hearth in their room is dark and cold when they stumble inside. Geralt can see well enough to guide them both, but he tears himself away from Jaskier’s hungry kisses to light the fire. When it’s finally ablaze and he turns to find the bard sprawled out on their bed, discarding the last of his clothing, Geralt is glad he took the time. 

Even if only in the dim red light, cast over with long and flickering shadows, he wants to see this.

This—miles of bare skin, calloused and scarred in places it wasn’t when last Geralt laid eyes on it, and quivering as he presses his lips to every place he should have been there to protect. Jaskier is so warm to touch, so much warmer than Geralt, his emphatically human heart hammering away in his chest for both of them.

This—achingly familiar hands with long fingers and soft palms, gliding over the shine of sweat on Geralt’s chest and his arms and his back. Jaskier is so gentle with his touches, as though Geralt could break beneath them, as though Jaskier would ever break him even if he could. But then Geralt touches just so and nails bite into his skin and he longs to see their matching bruises side by side. 

This—a hungry mouth that kisses wherever it can and urges Geralt to give, to take. Every graze of his fingers, his lips, his tongue, draws the sweetest sounds. Jaskier is so liberal with his voice, utterly without shame as he tells Geralt exactly what he needs and how good he feels, as he begs him to touch me darling, there, again, more, more, please, please, please…

Every sense, every synapse, every nerve is straining to capture this moment because if their world ends tomorrow, Geralt wants his last memory to be the way Jaskier clings to him, sings to him, as he pushes inside.

Each second stretches into a thousand and disappears in an instant all at once. An eternity is lived in the space between each of Jaskier’s gorgeous moans and breathless cries, but too soon, Geralt feels himself hurtling over the edge. He comes with Jaskier’s name on his lips and the hot burn of tears behind his eyes.

They lie there, silent but for their breath, while their sweat dries and the fire burns to embers. Geralt fits himself to Jaskier’s back, a knee between his, an arm circling his waist, and his face tucked into the crook of Jaskier’s neck. The bard reaches back to tangle his fingers in Geralt’s hair and begins to hum an unfamiliar tune.

“That’s new,” Geralt rumbles, muffled by Jaskier’s skin.

Jaskier hums in agreement. “I think it’s about a bard and a witcher.”

Geralt takes a few long, slow breaths before he replies. “Another tragedy?”

Jaskier presses the tips of his fingers against Geralt’s scalp and massages along the back of his head until he finds a spot he discovered years ago while scrubbing drowner brains from Geralt’s hair, the one that elicits a sound very near purring. Geralt no longer expects an answer, but he gets one after his eyes have long fallen shut, whispered into the gathering darkness.

“Not this time.”

~~

my masterlist

[kimsuyeon]

LOAD RO'S PAGE? . . . yes !

KIM JIYEON, better known professionally as BONA - and to friends of the birthday girl as RORO'S SOULMATE - is a member of South Korean girl group WJSN and an ACTRESS.

A.K.A - I asked the rorotuals who the ro girl is, and Bona was chosen unanimously. . . honorable mentions go to:

recently posted comments . . . !

@xiaojuun wrote : bona! ro is the bonatual that's her wife. she was also her url for a while. (honorable mentions gaeul, doyeon, winter, and yena!)

@flops wrote : bona, shes ro's wife™ of course she has to be number one. doyeon because everytime she has a new photoshoot with a magazine ro makes the prettiest edits out of them so !!!! nana, give her and the whole group back to ro she has been asking for ages i think its time! iu - only recently learned she's a ro girl im sorry 🙏

@eeunwoo wrote : BONA, ORIGINAL RORO WIFE IN FACT RORO SOULMATE

@itomiu wrote : bona! she's just THE most roro girl of all time

@everglowz wrote : bona. i was thinking if anyone else compared but it's bona. reason is that ro is ro so of course it's bona.

@evnnies wrote : bona! she's just THE rogirl to me

@berryjaellie wrote : iu, shes the #1 iuer in my heart for real. bona bc thats her literal wife i still remember showing her pink bona n making her go insane. sullyoon !!!! thats her yoona!!!! i think in my mind shes one of the main ro girls right now? jiheon & jiwon i cld never forget them bc i spent my days sending them to her ..like theres like 300 more but thats the main ones i think ?

@doyeons wrote : firstly i think of jiheon and jiwon bc frommy, bona, bc that's her girl, siyoon and kazuha and jini.. i can’t think of why tbh sjdjfksd they r just rogirls to me in my brain

@intakshi wrote : thinking about anyone else other than bona feels illegal because ro would never cheat on her wife sdsjk but i would also say yiren, jiheon, lola, sejeong and eunbi !!

@moonsua wrote : i mainly think of men when it comes to ro sgshsj but doyeon, yves from loona (rip) i think? and a wjsn member… bona!! bona.

@possession1981 wrote : bona, lola, jiheon, nana, doyeon, heejin, iu, winter, kazuha, sullyoon, yena.. and gaeul are who i think of rn

@winxys wrote : bona, zuha, yena, lola, gaeul, jiwon, and chuu as well!!

@kimsuyeon wrote : bona, of course. but i also associate kazuha, jini, winter, chuu, jeewon, wonyoung, jiwon, and jiheon with you. i'm sure that's from sending sets of them to you in lieu of conversation. happy happy birthday roro! i wish you the bestest year ever (until next, of course) and happiness and financial stability with no work because that's rude and you should be allowed to be a sleepy girl and not do work in an office! i wish you a very nice computer with no issues so you can gif and do as you please, and i wish you a very no anxiety and no gross weather as well.

special thanks to the rorotuals. you're tagged above with what you said (some are a little edited, but i tried to keep your energy and the core message) for your bona diagnoses, the other ro girls and reasons for them, and your help. without you, this couldn't have come together ♡

[tempestaurora]

the child soldier summer tour

13k | bnha | bakugou & class 1-a, bakugou & midoriya, bakugou/kirishima

The scheduling gods – AKA Yaoyorozu Momo and Iida Tenya – slapped down the papers on the kitchen table. There were way too many people in Jirou’s apartment, but Bakugou was just thankful that they’d decided not to cram his living room for this. Usually, they liked to, because he had the biggest living space seeing as his place came with three obnoxious roommates, but today they’d all met at Jirou’s and Jirou had only acted totally fine with twenty people shoved into her little two-bed box that she shared with Ashido, and now they were all climbing over each other to see the meticulous schedule their ex-class presidents had put together for the summer.

“This is insane—when are we supposed to pee?” Kaminari yelped, as Kirishima complained, “Three back-to-back – are you forgetting we’re heroes too?”

“Bathroom breaks will be scheduled on a day-to-day basis,” Yaomomo said, Iida chopping the air behind her.

“The schedule has been designed with heroics in mind!” he cried. “This way, everyone can attend an equal number of events, while also maintaining their agency contracts. We will have handouts for everyone to take back to their agencies!”

“This is amazing, guys,” Deku gushed. Bakugou shoved himself past Sero to get a look. True to form, the schedule was a colour-coded nightmare of thirty-six tour dates across twenty-nine locations in Japan over only the two months of summer. The system was divided equally between the five members of the band who had to appear at every concert (for obvious reasons) and the fifteen remaining ex-classmates who insisted that they, too, were also part of the band and would be coming along to roadie, dance, or just take selfies backstage and get in the way.

Bakugou’s opinion on the whole tour had originally been fuck that, if I’m gonna be a hero, I can’t waste an entire summer playing music, followed by three days of yelling and the eventual decision that if he didn’t spend a summer playing music now, when the hell would he ever get the chance to do it again?

They were freshly twenty, some of them still holding onto the reins of nineteen, and they’d only been out of Yuuei for a year. Only experienced the world of being rookie heroes for twelve short months and already it was more than they’d bargained for. Their second and third years in school had been downright peaceful compared to that hellish first, and maybe Bakugou would’ve preferred it if they had been just as dangerous – they’d gone soft, almost, in that time. Memories of the war had finally started to fade, and peacetime was a good look on them all. They were well-rested, therapized, on top of their studies and throwing late night parties in their dorms – when they’d been kicked out onto the streets of Japan, expected to rent an apartment and go to a job and be famous fucking heroes, the culture shock had damn near knocked half of them on their asses.

Bakugou didn’t want or need a break – but they were a damn good band, and there was no time he saw for himself in the next twenty years that would allow them to do a tour like this again.

When he’d consented to the band at one of their jam nights, they’d all fucking cheered. Then they’d added him into the groupchat with the rest of the class that they’d made three days before, fully knowing he would change his mind.

“Alright, everyone take a copy,” Yaomomo continued. “Then check it over – you have one calendar week to return with any necessary changes before we confirm bookings with the venues. It’s alright if you need to switch, just let us know by the deadline.”

-

Bakugou slumped into the chair opposite Best Jeanist. He’d signed on for eighteen months at the agency, his last months falling at the end of summer. He watched Jeanist’s eyebrows vanish under his hair as he read over the schedule.

“Well, this is organised – who put this together?”

“Creati and Ingenium,” he replied, tipping his head back. Even the ceiling was obnoxiously bedazzled. A disco ball hung from the centre; somewhere around the building, Aoyama was interning – a common appreciation for Best Jeanist (albeit for entirely different reasons) was the only thing the two had in common. Aoyama was a year behind everyone else since the whole, you know, All For One traitor shit, but he was pulling it back, and Bakugou respected the drive if nothing else.

“I would expect nothing less from them,” Jeanist mused. “I can’t say I’m surprised, as you warned me just how much time you would be spending on this during the summer, but I’m happy to sign it all off.”

Bakugou tilted his head forward. He’d expected even the slightest negotiation. “You are.”

“Of course. Bakugou, your work has been admirable and impressive this past year, but you haven’t taken a single day of holiday and there comes a point when that becomes a work violation as an employer. So I’m thrilled to roll over your unused holiday days into this calendar year so you can go on this tour.”

Bakugou raised an eyebrow. Jeanist had a way of speaking like he was always on camera, but there were none in here and he wasn’t about to be bullshitted by his own boss. “Alright, now tell me what you really think.”

He could see Jeanist’s smile beyond the high collar. “I think…” he hummed. “Approximately three years ago, when you were barely sixteen, you died, Katsuki.” Bakugou swallowed, tensing at the given name. “You then got up and kept going. You took down All For One, you ploughed through months of gruelling rehabilitation and graduated third in your class two years later without so much as a single break.”

“I went home for Christmas,” Bakugou muttered.

Jeanist continued anyway, “You haven’t done anything for yourself in all the time I’ve known you. No—that’s a lie. You joined a band. But even that, initially, was to cheer up your fellow students who had been put out by your class’ misfortune. So, if this band is the one thing you let yourself enjoy, away from being a hero, I would be a terrible employer, and a terrible friend, to not allow you time to take part in it. And I hope that in return – although, really, it would be tacky to get any sort of thanks for this – I would appreciate a single ticket to see your finale show in Musutafu.”

Bakugou blinked. Jeanist stared. Bakugou’s mouth curled into the sharp kind of smile.

“I think I can swing a ticket.”

“Then I wish you all the best of luck on your tour,” Jeanist said. “Let me know what dates you can work, and if you need any help choosing what to do after your contract runs out.”

-

COMING TO A CITY/TOWN/NONDESCRIPT WAREHOUSE NEAR YOU

THIS SUMMER

A BAND: THE CHILD SOLDIER SUMMER TOUR

continue reading on ao3

[midwestmade29]

Christian Cage Request 🥰

To anonymous: This was such a sweet idea! I hope what I wrote matches what you had in mind. Enjoy 🖤

Original Anonymous Request: "Can I request a Christian Cage x Female!Reader where the reader is Christian’s wife since he first started with WWE (Basically as if he married the reader when he did instead of his ex wife) and he comes home from being on the road with AEW to his wife, who’s heavily pregnant and has been having some slight complications, curled up in bed with their daughter, Isla, who’s cuddling with her mom because she knows she hasn’t been feeling the best and Christian can’t help but melt at the sight of his girls. He ends up taking a few weeks off to tend to his girls and make sure his love is okay?"

Disclaimers: None really! This story is fluff. It does cover pregnancy and high blood pressure but that’s it. Read at your own discretion.

Word count: 1,096

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Braxton hicks: false contractions

Paternity leave: The time off a new father is given after the birth of his baby.

Your 20-year wedding anniversary was rapidly approaching, along with the birth of your 2nd child! A lot has happened during the last 20 years, first meeting Christian when he was working for WWE, getting married and eventually having your daughter Isla, and Christian being forced into retirement due to his injuries he sustained in the ring. Not every moment was good, but you worked together to get through the challenging times. Seeing Christian as a dad was the best thing in the world, Isla had him wrapped around her little finger! Ever since Isla could talk, she had always begged for a little brother or sister. Time marched on and she remained an only child- until now! When you and Christian saw the positive pregnancy test, both of you were shocked! Even though the timing is a little off since Isla is almost 10 years old now and with Christian officially coming out of retirement to wrestle again, you just knew everything would work out somehow!

Christian’s travel schedule with AEW was hard to adjust to at first since you and Isla were so used to having him home every day. He often missed out on the big and little things that were going on with you and Isla, which made being a part even more difficult. Phone calls, text messages and Facetime helped ease the sting of his absence, but nothing could compare to the feeling of being snuggled up with him in bed or the sound of laughter echoing through the house as him and Isla played together! Lately his popularity amongst the fans had skyrocketed which put him in high demand for being on TV more often. Christian was on the road more than he was at home now! The stress of being as pregnant are you are along with trying to take care of Isla on your own was starting to wear on you. At your most recent doctor’s appointment, your blood pressure was elevated and was most likely caused from the anxiety you were feeling about Christian leaving tomorrow for 2 weeks. On top of your high blood pressure, your anxiety made you as nauseous as you were during your first trimester! Your doctor informed you that she was going to be keeping a close eye on you, and if your blood pressure didn’t lower within the next week, you would be given medicine or placed on bed rest. You didn’t care for either of those options, so you promised her that you would do your best to lower your stress!

Isla was such a trooper while Christian was gone! She always helped around the house and very rarely complained about it. Her caring and nurturing soul shinned through every time she asked if there was something she could get you or do for you. She always tried to make you laugh or offer you a hug when she could tell you needed it the most. One of her favorite things to do at bedtime is to snuggle up next to you and rest her head on your belly. She loved feeling the baby move and kick! Isla kept one of your ultrasound pictures on her nightstand and you often caught her staring at it instead of trying to fall asleep. It made your heart happy seeing her so excited about the baby, and you just knew she was going to be the best big sister ever!

During your Facetime call with Christian, you informed him about the good report your doctor had given you earlier in the day! “She said that my blood pressure is exactly where it should be. No medicine or bed rest for me! I told the doctor that my nausea hasn’t been as frequent as it was, but she did give me some over the counter medicine suggestions in case it starts up again. All in all, the appointment went great, and mom and baby are healthy!” you explained. Christian’s smile was contagious, and his words were heartfelt when he spoke, “That’s wonderful news baby! I’m so glad that you’re feeling better. I miss you and Isla like crazy! Hopefully the rest of this road trip goes by quickly so I can come home to my girls!” What Christian didn’t tell you during your conversation was that Tony Kahn informed him that they had everything they needed from him so he could go home a few days early! The very next night when you had finished reading a book with Isla, both of you had fallen asleep in her bed. It had been a little bit of a rough day since your feet and ankles were swollen and you had a headache you just couldn’t shake. When Christian walked into Isla’s bedroom, he saw both of his girls snuggled up together in a sea of various stuffed animals. You still had the book open on your chest and Isla had her hand on your belly. He made sure to take a picture of the sweet moment before he woke both of you up and surprised you.

The next couple of weeks were filled with several ups and downs regarding your pregnancy. You had caught the flu leaving you dehydrated which led to you being admitted into the hospital for a couple of days. Thankfully you felt much better afterwards, but that good feeling didn’t last very long. You started having minor contractions late one night, so Christian called your doctor. She explained what to look for if they continued, but ultimately determined they were just Braxton hicks. Because you were so close to the end of your pregnancy, Christian started his paternity leave early! He took the next several weeks off so he could be home and make sure his girls were taken care of. He waited on you hand and foot and took care of everything around the house. Isla and Christian were the dream team whenever they worked together to complete a task, their love for each other made your heart swell! He embraced homework duty, went with you to all your remaining doctor appointments, ran all the errands, went out late at night to get you whatever you were craving, and even took care of everything during Isla’s sleepover she had with her friends. In the end, it was a good thing Christian had taken time off from AEW because your baby was born within the first week of him being home. Your beautiful and healthy baby boy was born on your 20th wedding anniversary, the perfect gift to celebrate such a milestone!

[mostlylurkinbarelypostin]

Mike the Surfer Boy 🏄🏻‍♂️🌊

Surfer Boy plays a massive role in season 4, and I believe that it's all about authenticity. As we see with Argyle and Argyle 2.0, surfer boys are unique individuals. They dress how they want to and they don't try to be anyone they're not. We're also told that everything is made fresh at Surfer Boy (except for the pineapple that comes from a can… lol), nothing is artificial or fake. When Mike shows up in California in his iconic outfit, it’s clear that he’s trying to be someone else. He’s being phoney. His shirt says “Surf,” and it’s got little surf boards and hang loose symbols, the whole works, but he’s more of a boy surfer than a true “Surfer Boy”. More Pacific Ocean than authentic “Ocean Pacific,” if you know what I’m saying. Mike is trying to convince everyone that he’s someone that he’s not, that this is who he truly is. See, his shirt says surf. That makes him a surfer boy right?

Wrong.

You can’t just say you’re a surfer boy, you gotta act like one. You gotta be authentic. That’s why Argyle, who is a real surfer boy, calls him out immediately for being a “shitty knock off”. He’s being a knock off surfer boy. He’s not being himself AT ALL. This is also shown through the color of his clothing. Orange and purple is definitely not his normal color palette, which is confirmed by the costume designer.

His outfit also lacks any of the fun and originality of a true Surfer Boy outfit. Just look at his outfit compared to Argyle’s.

Argyle's is bright and unique. It's a reflection of how authentic and unapologetically himself he is. It makes the blandness of Mike's outfit all the more obvious. Just like Mike, his outfit is toned down - muted. It's void of any spunk or originality. His internal struggle to suppress who is is bleeding into his clothing choices.

2 days after the airport fiasco, El is gone and Mike is dressing a lot more like himself. He’s also BEING more himself. He starts to open up to Will again in Jonathan’s room and it becomes clear that these two are rapidly finding their way back to each other. Right after this conversation, Mike and Will ask the agents to order them pizza so they can get a cheap ride back to Hawkins. Mike and Will go downstairs together, of course, and Will holds up the surfer boy pizza flyer that boldly (and kinda hilariously) states “Delivered… HOT to your door” and “30 minutes or less”.

And guess who shows up at Will's door a little under 30 minutes later? Mike lol. And he delivers Will exactly what he wants as he recreates the best thing he’s ever done and reaffirms to Will that he is still very much committed to their relationship and wants to be back by his side moving forward, no matter what happens.

We're even reminded that this is all connected to surfer boy pizza when they get interrupted and Mike says "That was fast," to which Will responds, "30 minutes or less."

Through the next few episodes, there are several scenes, shots, and details that further associate Mike with surfer boy. The most obvious is probably the fact that Mike is often placed in front of the “Surfer” written on the back window of the pizza van, as well as the “Surfer Boy” that’s on the doors. I've added just a few examples below.

We also have the frog riding a surfboard on the van’s dash, which is probably a reference to Mike’s unfortunate nickname “frog face” (☹️). 

Finally, and this might be delusional, Mike almost looks like he’s surfing when he closes the van doors, which we’re shown him doing twice. I could only find a clip of the first time, which is unfortunate cause the second time at the gas station, you also see that Mike switches places with Will so that he can get in the van first. Just a cute detail. It also looks a lot more like surfing than in the example that I've attached below but oh well.

They finally make it to Surfer Boy Pizza in episode 9 and Argyle interrupts El and Mike's conversation, dropping the pizza in front of them and telling Mike, “Surf's up, Romeo”. Once again referring to him as a surfer boy. We then get the incredible fruity pizza scene and the iconic “try before you deny” line. In order for Mike to finally be a true surfer boy, he needs to ride the waves, and for Mike, those waves are fruity. Argyle and El just want Mike to be himself. It’s time for him to be authentic and accept himself for who he is. We know that he wants this as well given what he says after trying the pineapple pizza.

"No, you're right. It's good."

Of course, Will kinda goes and makes this a bit challenging when he unknowingly tries to force Mike in the complete opposite direction, but it’s clear by the end of the season that Mike is way more himself. He’s finally got the “good threads” as Argyle says. He's no longer trying to hide behind some elaborate facade. He's a lot less of a boy surfer, and a lot more of a surfer boy.

I think the whole idea of surfer boy is especially cute cause it’s a bit of a callback to Lucas and Max in season 2. On Halloween, Lucas and Dustin are doing surfer impressions to make Max laugh. Lucas then brings this back later when he tells Max that she’s “cool and different” and “totally tubular” when they have their heart to heart on the bus. It’s a sweet moment and connects also to the whole idea of being different, and how that is not something that is inherently negative. Just Like Lucas and Max, Mike loves Will because he’s different, not in spite of it. The return of surfing references could be a coincidence, but the fact that they used the same song ("On the Bus") that played during that Max and Lucas scene for Mike and Will’s season 4 bedroom conversation, makes me think that all of this is connected.

Overall, the Surfer Boy motif is all about Mike's journey towards self-acceptance and being his true, authentic self, and he's definitely making progress!

Sorry this was so long! I hope this makes sense.

Let me know your thoughts 😄

[supercantaloupe]

The Rent Post™

aka, a lengthy screed on how rent the musical goes about adapting la boheme, where it fails, and what can be done about it

so i’m admittedly a reformed Theater Kid™. and tbh i still very much am a Theater Person, even a Musical Theater Person, i’m just in my 20s now and my taste has shifted away from what’s mainstream on broadway right now and closer to the world of opera. but there absolutely was a time in my early teens when i was Really Into Rent, as many Theater Kids™ were…and there was also a time in my later teens when i thought about it and realized that rent was not only just not my thing, but that there were some significant Problems with it, as its own work and as an adaptation. now, having finally seen boheme for myself, i feel like i’m really in a place to piece together how the two works compare to one another, and why/how i think rent falls short of success (as a piece of theater anyway. obviously rent is not lacking in commercial and popular audience success, for better or worse).

i knew years ago that rent is a direct adaptation of la boheme, but wow, only after seeing the opera did i come to realize just how closely rent follows boheme: in plot beats, in character names, even borrowing a couple of lyrics and musical motifs here and there. 

but it also changes things from the original opera -- namely, it adds things -- and i think this is the first place where rent runs into trouble. now i am by no means such a purist that i think no work should ever be adapted unchanged (more on this later...what’s the point of adaptation if not to change things to make the work resonate with a new audience anyway?). however, any and every change made to an existing work in adaptation should be thoughtfully made and motivated, because every single change has an effect on the whole product in some way, and many small changes can add up to create a rather different final product than a creator might realize. 

(and this goes both ways, i think -- both in a work where a more flawed source material is adapted into something new and better, and when a superior original work is adapted into a worse new creation.)

definitely some of the changes made in rent while adapting la boheme are due to the change in medium. opera and musicals are both theater, sure, and more similar in many ways to each other than either is to straight play or film perhaps, but it’s still like a spanish speaker and an italian speaker trying to have a conversation with one another. the languages are similar and there might even be a bit of crossover in mutual intelligibility but they are still ultimately two different languages with different grammars and vocabulary. opera in general tends to have slower pacing than book musicals, fewer plot threads of equal importance. that rent is specifically a musical adaptation of la boheme, rather than a true rock opera, demonstrates this well. the mimi/rodolfo relationship is still front and center (americanized of course as mimi and roger), with marcello and musetta close behind (though expanded in rent as more of a love triangle among mark, maureen, and joanne, the latter being an invented character for the musical who i think embodies the original marcello as much as mark does). but rent adds a lot of stage time and focus to a new couple, collins and angel, who are directly lifted from colline and schaunard, who are essentially secondary comic relief characters, whereas collins/angel are arguably as important plot wise to mimi/roger and mark/maureen/joanne. 

(and i’m not gonna get into the level of #problematic there is to the depiction of maureen as an overly promiscuous bisexual or discuss why colline and schaunard can’t have been a gay couple the whole time or whatever because. wow i do not care. there are more important things to complain about here c’mon)

first big addition to rent that wasn’t original to boheme is that increased stage presence/focus for collins and angel. it's not inherently a bad addition, and for its time the open depiction of multiple queer romances onstage was still kind of groundbreaking. and yes, rent having a longer runtime than boheme should give it the opportunity to flesh this relationship out more as well as the other two to make sure they all have an equal chance to develop and end in a satisfying way. hell, they don’t even all have to be equal in stage presence/focus/importance to be a positive addition to the show (and how can it be when angel dies halfway through act ii? then again, the character dying doesn’t exactly mean the relationship loses its importance in the plot…) but despite the extra runtime and faster storytelling pace, rent doesn’t actually develop angel and collins all that much, especially not before angel dies. this isn’t an issue with colline and schaunard, of course, cause it’s obvious they’re not important characters in boheme. but collins and angel are arguably more important in rent than even mark/maureen/joanne. and angel dies halfway through act ii…meanwhile, mimi survives the end of rent, when she very pointedly does not in boheme.

and…oh, mimi. she is probably the biggest and most problematic adaptational change in rent as compared to la boheme. on the surface she (and roger/rodolfo) seems the least changed of all the opera’s characters, her name not even undergoing the same americanization treatment as the others. but there are just so many small details that add up and up until she’s a fundamentally different character in rent. i don’t even begrudge the change in occupation: her becoming a stripper/exotic dancer/possible sex worker(?) rather than a seamstress does bring with it some cultural baggage, but i am not personally interested in reading any morality into her choice of occupation, and i choose not to read her line of work as having any implications for her “innocence” or moral value as a character. nor will i read her addiction or disease as being moral qualities either. however: there is a big difference between tuberculosis in the 1840s and both AIDS and drug addiction in the 1980s. neither boheme’s mimi nor rent’s are morally responsible for their illnesses. but there is absolutely nothing mimi could do about her tuberculosis in boheme except die, because it was france in the 1840s and nobody knew what an antibiotic was. in new york in 1989, there were rehab clinics and there were medications for HIV. these things were expensive and hard to access, yes, but rent really goes out of its way to show us that mimi had the resources to access these things -- she is able to afford AZT in act i on her own (and the fact that she’s on AZT is used as shorthand for her HIV+ status, as opposed to other characters about whom we are told outright)...

… and her relationship with benny (the much-expanded counterpart to boheme’s benoit the landlord character) in act ii, who verbally offers to pay for her admittance to a rehab program.

yet the next time we see or hear anything of her, her loving mother is calling to ask where she is as she’s presumably gone missing…

…and then discover she has been living on the street, dying from exposure/disease/addiction. 

did she do this willingly? did benny refuse to continue supporting her? we don’t really get an answer to any of this; rent isn’t really concerned with why mimi is in the position she’s in, but is rather entirely preoccupied with staying true to boheme -- up until mimi’s death, anyway. because mimi doesn’t die in rent, she is saved, and says that angel told her to keep on living (as though it were a choice). why? we can only speculate. really, if any character embodies the same “dying tragically in a world too cruel for them to survive” theme as mimi in boheme does, it’s angel. and her death is honestly used as a tool throughout the rest of the show: a purpose for kindness, community, life.

is this a bad “bury your gays” kind of thing? i don’t really know, i’m inclined to believe not. but i do think angel’s death is more thematically akin to mimi’s death in boheme than the actual (near-)death of mimi in rent. 

and this is the biggest difference between rent and boheme: boheme is not about hope. boheme is a tragic romance about how important relationships are among people in disadvantaged communities/situations, but it does not say that love will transcend or materially improve those conditions. rent, by contrast, does. rent suggests that the love of partners and community (even if filled with complications and tensions) is lifesaving. 

(and i know rent’s stated thesis is “no day but today,” i.e. live and enjoy every day as though it could be your last, but i think thematically all the characters and their interactions overall suggest a theme of community just as if not more strongly, whereas “no day but today” is more limited to the HIV+ characters and has little to do with the mark/maureen/joanne subplot. mimi's outlook on "no day but today" changes when she chooses to stay alive on the urging of angel from the other side.) 

now i don’t think this is altogether a bad moral to have in your theater piece. especially in one of the first major pieces of theater centered on marginalized queer characters. i will not deny how important and cathartic it can be, both now and especially thirty years ago when rent premiered, to end on a hopeful note rather than a tragic one. but i have a couple of issues with how rent goes about making this its central theme. for one thing, mimi has frankly too many Things affecting her health in the end for her survival to be realistic, and absolutely nothing up to this point in the show has suggested a setting of magical realism or pseudofantasy; everything has been as grounded in real life as possible, until finale b, when mimi suddenly and near-inexplicably survives. it feels like it comes out of nowhere tonally and thus isn’t very satisfying an ending when put to scrutiny. for another, angel has already died, and angel is, compared to mimi, a much more beloved and uncomplicatedly positive force in their community and relationships. angel’s entire stage presence (while she’s alive and when her character is invoked or referenced after her death) is a positive one: caring for collins when he’s injured, providing food and funds to the group, placating arguments, etc.

and the fact that angel has no concerned parents leaving her voicemails, unlike mark, roger, and mimi, underscores that she has no one else to lean on for support except her community of bohemians. and we’re not given a reason to believe one way or the other about her home life or financial stability outside of today 4 u when she got a sudden windfall for killing a dog (whatever; schaunard did the same thing to the parrot in boheme). in contrast to mimi, roger, and especially mark, who are clearly shown to have family who care about them and want to support them, yet they choose to live in romanticized poverty anyway. mark even gets a good job in filming and still finds a way to complain about it.

really, except for angel (and arguably collins, too), it’s difficult to totally sympathize with the characters in rent and care fully about their plight because they’re just…not depicted as particularly likable people. maureen is an unfaithful and kind of manipulative partner, and her approach to “protest” is really just bad self-absorbed performance art. roger just kind of sucks at songwriting (how is your eyes the song that he’s spent the whole show writing? it’s the worst number in the musical lol), and he’s quick to anger…his decision to leave mimi makes even less sense here than rodolfo’s decision to leave her in boheme, where at least he did so out of genuine concern for her health (also why does he leave mark? rodolfo embraces marcello as a friend still after mimi leaves in boheme...act iii of boheme is the least closely adapted in rent by far.). wheras in rent roger seems to be both genuinely jealous of mimi interacting with other men and upset by her continued drug use. although this last one i don’t begrudge him for, since it’s made clear he’s a recovering addict himself…although it does make mimi’s relationship with him all the worse, considering that mimi’s take on the whole “no day but today” theme is to throw caution to the wind with her actions and not worry about the future at all, and her interacting with roger is directly tempting him back into addiction which he clearly does not want. (and roger’s rejection of her in another day is framed as him being in the wrong with mimi being backed up by the life support chorus…)

while mimi as we’ve seen is reckless and throws her life away even when people try to help her (very very different from boheme’s mimi, who makes no particularly reckless choices, and accepts help when it's offered). and mark is entitled and uses his film as an excuse to disengage with the real world, even exploit it (see: the way he films the life support meeting without permission, or the homeless woman, which is never really confronted elsewhere in the show…)

the inclusion of a homelessness subplot in rent is particularly strange to me. it shows up a lot, especially in act i: the threat of homelessness for the main characters should they not pay their rent or come to some kind of agreement with their landlord; the vague future threat of benny’s “cyberarts studio” getting built which is implied would evict those living in tents on the lot; mimi being found living on the street in the finale; and the chorus/ensemble who show up periodically, as above. homelessness is an ever present element of set dressing/conflict in rent but it’s never really addressed, no points are ever made about it, which is in my opinion kind of wild and very unsatisfying. the above scene especially, considering how direct of a callout it is towards the show’s own characters and writing, yet it is never addressed afterwards, and this conflict is never really resolved. 

one could take similar issue with the choice to swap tuberculosis in boheme with AIDS in rent. though in my opinion i think addiction is as much as if not more rent’s analogue to boheme’s TB, since that is a much more acutely seen disease for mimi and only mimi while there are multiple characters (main and chorus) living with HIV…then again, angel is the character who gets the real tragic death analogous to mimi’s in boheme, and angel dies of complications from AIDS, so i suppose it’s open to debate. regardless, there’s a significant contextual difference between TB in the 1840s and HIV and addiction in the 1980s: there was no system, political, social, or medical, that could truly heal someone of tuberculosis in boheme’s setting. but there very much was a medical and social system in place to help people with HIV and addiction in the 1980s; systems which were aggressively denied to those who were suffering by the political system. and for as much as the characters in rent like to sing about revolution, protest, and activism, not a single one actually challenges the powers that be or call out by name those responsible for the systematic denial of healthcare to the marginalized. activism and artistic revolution is hollow and meaningless in rent, they never name a real enemy, just a vague sense of “the man.” but it’s a story set in a real and still recent historical time period, the effects of which we still deal with today (and i’m sure even more acutely so back in 1996); it just feels disrespectful to me to use those crises as such important set dressing for your musical which positions itself as a “fuck the man” revolutionary kind of piece of theater and yet do or say absolutely nothing about the real world issues it is appropriating. for more information i highly recommend checking out lindsay ellis’ video on the topic. 

so is all this to say i think rent is an irredeemable, fundamentally broken work? actually, no; i think it has a decent foundation and some solid music. i understand the reasoning behind and appeal of updating an old work to a new time period/setting for a new audience, and i think trading 1840s paris for 1980s nyc is an interesting and workable substitution. but when i look at rent as it is now, i just do not see a finished product. 

and i think this is the most frustrating and disappointing thing about rent to me: rent is, quite literally, an unfinished show. its composer and librettist, jonathan larson, died suddenly the day of its first preview performance. and for so many developing (off-)broadway shows, previews are when the actual finished product is crafted, as the show is revised based on audience reactions. of course audience and critical reception to rent from the very beginning was positive, but i can’t help but speculate how much of that is influenced by the mere fact of its creator’s untimely death. and i wonder what changes larson would have made to his show if he had lived, and been able to hear the audience’s reactions, and revise the show accordingly. i wonder if he would have thought it worked. i wonder if he would have seen the same cracks that i see in it. i don’t think rent is inherently unsalvageable, but it is so far unsalvaged. 

and frankly i don’t know that it ever will be salvaged; not for many years, at least. not until copyright and licensing in musical theater changes, and not until broadway audiences get more comfortable with the idea of altering beloved and familiar classics (the 2019 revival of oklahoma! was, in my opinion, a work of genius, but i’m well aware my opinion is not universal, and especially during its national tour the show’s entire concept has been extremely controversial). do to rent what bartlett sher and aaron sorkin are doing to camelot right now: keep the heart and soul of the piece intact, but rewrite what doesn’t work. or do something even more drastic, cut subplots and change character traits, i don’t know. maybe mimi should die; maybe it really is important that she survive! maybe rent shouldn’t have been based on boheme at all; hell, what would rent look like if it was based on la traviata instead? (well the answer to this one is “a different show entirely,” most likely, but if you want to write a poignant and tragic love story based on a romantic opera and set in 1980s nyc featuring queer and/or HIV+ characters, well…it could work and i’ll leave it there.) maybe that’s going too far, i don’t know, but the point is, i want to see directors and writers have the freedom to try that stuff out. because i don’t think rent is unsalvageable; i think it’s unfinished. 

but rent is far too popular and beloved for anyone to dare touch its libretto with new ink. the memory of jonathan larson is held far too preciously for anyone to allow such debasement of his work. when searching online for libretti to reference when writing this essay, i found one transcribed script with this at its heading:

and i think that about sums it up for me. “may he be friggen worshiped!” him and all his creations, holy and untouchable.  it’d be tantamount to theater sacrilege at this point to try and change it. how dare you sully larson’s good name by thinking you could “fix” his masterpiece…the masterpiece no one wants to admit he never got to actually finish. well, i don’t know, maybe it’s me being jewish and sentimental here, but if i have enough respect for a piece of work i want to be able to engage with it and question it and interpret it as i think it best ought to be. (jonathan larson was also jewish. would he agree with me? i don’t know. but i think he’d want to see the best of his work, just like i do.) live theater is inherently participatory and dialectical. and it ought to be alive, not carved into stone. neither immovable nor under threat of utter annihilation should someone come too close with a chisel. rent has potential. la boheme is still as affecting today as it was a hundred thirty years ago (did you know rent premiered almost exactly a hundred years after la boheme?). rent could be the same. and it does have emotionality behind it as it is now, credit where credit’s due. but it could be more than just that. if we could just let someone finish the thing already, even if larson himself couldn’t.

[radroller]

HANK PYM COSTUME RATINGS

At long last, here are my thoughts on the many looks and identities of Marvel’s own Hank Pym!!! Being a fan of this guy is a real rollercoaster, but his costumes are always so great and interesting, ive wanted to talk about them for ages!!! As some of his looks kinda blend together Ive tried to stick with the bare essentials (barring ones i especially like) but you can generally assume that i rate most of the suits of a given identity the same unless i specifically state otherwise. So here we go!!!!!

Ant-Man 10/10

What can i say? You can’t make an ant themed character much cooler than this. The irresistible 60s scifi charm of his big chrome helmet, the red, black, and blue color scheme with patterns that say “i am a super scientist” but gloves that say “im attemptint to look visually interesting.” Naturally Hank forgets he’s wearing some of the coolest headgear in comics. Ant-Man has had some good looks and updates but the charm of this one is pretty undeniable.

Giant Man 8/10

I think we can all agree that Giant Man kinda sucks, but damn if he didnt look cool! I guess he kept the antennae to keep some Ant-Man functionality, but you rarely see him using it. That’s fine though, it gives him a cool and distinct silhouette. It’s strange, if this were a new look for him as Ant Man, id call it a more considerable downgrade, yet Hank becoming Giant Man is a downgrade in just about every sense of the word. And even so, i LOVE Giant Man! It’s a conundrum!

Giant Man Redux: 6/10

I think they were trying to recapture the scifi tech charm of Ant-Man with this one, and it does kinda work! I think my main issue with this one is that it doesnt stick around long enough to really win me over. There are far more minor and insignificant variations of Hank’s suits that stick around way longer than this one. And id say this suit’s pretty damn significant, he left the Avengers for the the first time wearing this shit! I wish they’d played around with it some more.

Goliath: 8/10

Goliath is extremely solid. I have to wonder if Marvel was conscious of Giant Man being a loser that they felt the need to rebrand him like this, there’s little significant changeover from his previous identity other than color scheme and name besides him being stuck at 10 ft tall for a bit. I LOVE the addition of the goggles btw, one of my earliest exposures to that design trope i love so much.

The weird thing with Goliath is that they make him look more and more like Giant Man while refusing to change his name. Like again i know the guy got his ass best plenty of times but when you add antennae and red to his costume….that’s just Giant Man! But whatever the case, i give Goliath and all of his iterations a solid thumbs up.

Yellowjacket: 10/10

The PINNACLE as far as im concerned. What if you took Ant-Man and refined his charming but clunky scifi elements into something sleek, aerodynamic, and downright badass, while still having bright colors? You get Yellowjacket! I can’t stress how much i loved this suit as a kid. Do you know how rare it is to have a primarily yellow superhero who looks cool? It’s mostly just Wolverine, and he didn’t even exist at this point! I also like how it sorta resembles Wasp’s original outfit, though you probably wouldn’t get a chance to compare given Jan’s ever shifting wardrobe. It’s really a shame how maligned the Yellowjacket identity is because id love to see this design again, but its lasting association with the worst shit ever done with Hank pretty much made sure that’ll never happen.

West Coast Avengers: -/10

It’s funny that what is arguably the height of Hank’s superhero career comes from when he’s vehemently not a superhero anymore. Thus, in terms of costumes…well this isnt a costume! But for what it is, it’s great. A nice practical super science getup. But i have trouble rating it on the same scale as the rest. Just know that I love it!

90s Hank: 5/10

I was ready to rip this thing a new one, but tbh it isnt bad. The only thing that keeps it from being truly good is the stupid pouches, but i cant outright call it bad when it’s basically a worse version of Atlas from Thunderbolts’ costume without them. It’s passable.

Giant Man???: 10/10

Yeah, I know. Confusing, isnt it? Well listen, regardless of names and costumes and what have you, this is by far my favorite variation on the original Goliath look. The red goggles just do it for me! I love primary color schemes and i prefer a touch of red to a touch of yellow, yknow?

Goliath??????: 8/10

So NOW he can be Goliath. That makes perfect sense. Yeesh. This suit is cool though i like it. It’s based on a Goliath suit Jan designed for Hank, but by then he’d had become Yellowjacket, so Hawkeye became Goliath for a while instead. It’s a nice callback, and while I don’t actually care for that Goliath look, there’s no way a redesign by George Perez at the height of his career and abilities is gonna be anything less than great.

Wasp: 7/10

Was Mighty Avengers good? I read a couple of issues and remembered enjoying it, but that was when i hated every other Avengers book do idk if that means it was actually good, yknow? Anyway while losing Jan as the Wasp and gaining Hank is about as big a net loss as i can think of, this is NOT a bad look. There are only a few gripes i feel: I get what they were going for with the design on his chest but it makes him look like he’s The Stickbug and not The Wasp. Secondly, i think the goggles are kinda lame compared to some of his other eye/headwear he’s sported throughout the years. That’s about it! Not bad for the worst Wasp in the main continuity!