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le0watch · 3 years ago

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Miss Red and Mister Snow

It's a busy day in the bar as usual. Langa weaves through his many patrons, the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke filling his nostrils with every breath. If he wasn't already used to this overwhelming mixture of scents, he probably would have thrown up by now. But, in his job, this sort of thing is normal.

The same could be said about the uproarious noise, men and women talking to each other about their days and lives. The music from the jazz band playing loud enough to be heard over the chatter, the clinking of ice and the mixing of beverages. Even the stomping of some tenants' feet.

Langa ignores it all in favor of getting to the front of the usual crowd, finding his reserved table. No one but him and the people of his choosing are allowed to sit here, the very best seat in the entire bar.

Tonight a new group of flapper dancers are coming into preform, after months of negotiation on both ends. Neither wants to be found out or linked back to the other, so they had to sit through many, many discussions. They finally found a day and a way for the group to sneak in without being suspected of anything, and currently, they are getting ready in the backstage area.

They should be out any minute now, which is why Langa is already sitting at his table. He crosses one leg over the other, his recently cleaned black shoes shining in the stage light. He'd slicked his hair back today to keep it out of his face, and he's wearing his favorite blue pinstriped suit, with the matching pair of pants to go with it. He'd like to make a good impression on this group in case he likes them, and would like them to partner up with his bar and business. After all, he does not yet have a regular flapper group that attends his bar even though they've been open for half a year now.

All of the best bootlegging bars have a regular dance group and jazz band. And while Langa has the latter, it's been hard to find a dance group to his liking. He's picky like that.

A moment later, and the lights flicker off. The crowd of people fall silent as the stage lights turn on one by one, revealing a small group of flapper dancers, all with their own colored dress. They're all beautiful in their own right.

But Langa can't look away from the lead dancer, who's dress is a bright red with black stripes going down from the shoulders to their stomach, where a large, intricate pattern is formed. If Langa looks closely, he could see that the pattern slightly forms a hibiscus flower. The black lines continue past this flower design, and create flaps at the bottom of the dress. Orange jewels and gold, hanging sequins decorate the black lines of the dress, and the girl’s hair- redder than her dress- is smoothed back into a bobbed, slick style that is so popular with the ladies right now. A golden band of beads is weaved into her hair, which dangles a little on her face.

She's wearing a pair of golden slippers that open on the top and close around the toes. Even these shoes have red jewels on them on the top of the area her toes would be.

She's standing at the front of the stage, one hand holding a microphone close to her lips, while the other is propped on her propped up hip. She’s smiling, a beautiful sight that Langa wants to take a picture of and hand on his wall. He would even find a way to make the picture colored so he could see her in all of her beauty. Her lips are colored with a brig red lipstick to match her dress, and her lashes are fluffed up by mascara.

“Hello everybody!” she says into the mic, her playful tone evident in her voice. She has a similar lilt as other flapper dancers, that sounds amazing in her voice. The crowd is a mixture of calls and wolfish whistles. They must think she's cute, too. “How are y'all doin’ tonight?”

There's more hooting and clapping from the crowd, cigarette smoke making a thin cloud over the audience. Langa can't stop staring at this flapper; she’s gorgeous.

“Well, that is great to hear!” she continues, flashing a bright grin at the crowd that has basically devolved into a pack of animals from her appearance alone. She seems unphased by it- probably used to this reaction. Langa isn't, though, and he wants nothing more than to punch anyone who so much as looks at her the wrong way. She shouldn't be treated like a piece of meat. “You all can call me Miss Red!” She then looks over at Langa, and does a small curtesy in his direction. He nearly passes out under her gaze. “And I'd like to thank Mister Snow over here for lettin’ us come in tonight.”

Langa nods his head in response, since he doesn't know what else to do. She merely winks at him and he nearly passes out all over again.

Then, Miss Red claps her hands together and backs up into the line of other dancers. The lights brighten to shine off of the sequins and jewels attached to their dresses, and they start their routine, first with the Charleston before moving into the foxtrot.

Langa tries to watch a few of the other dancers, but his eyes keep drifting back Miss Red’s pretty face. She does the unthinkable after a few minutes of dancing; she starts seeing a song, which the jazz band seems to know, as they play along with her voice. Her singing voice is beautiful and powerful, echoing around the clamor of clapping and howling men:

“Now look me over carefully

All dolled up from A to Z

Guess you wonder where I'm gonna go

I'm excited, I'll admit

And you don't know the half of it

I'm gonna meet the one that I love so

Hey, hey, clear the way

Looks like this is my lucky day

I'm gonna meet my sweetie now

I can't be annoyed

Am I happy, am I overjoyed

I'm gonna meet my sweetie now!”

She sings it beautifully, and Langa loves her take on the popular song “I'm Gonna Meet My Sweetie Now”. He may even like it more than the original version, with the way she sings the verses and words, and the way the jazz band is playing as an energetic version of the song.

“Hey-hey-hey, just got through

Manicure and a good shampoo

I'm gonna meet my sweetie now

Yes indeedy, just got a brand new hat

Brand new this and a brand new that

I'm gonna meet my sweetie now

When I think of how his arms come stealin'

I'm so nervous, girls, you know the feelin'

I'm just nearly wild

Come on, mother, and save your child

I'm gonna meet my sweetie now!”

The dancers switch to the scandalous shimmy, causing the hollering from the crowd to double. Their dresses flip this way and that, looping around their thighs and almost rising higher than they should as they dance with a partner, pressing so close that the men cheer. Langa feels his face heat up. He doesn't see the shimmy very often, and to see Miss Red going through the steps makes him hot. It's also banned in most places, so you don't see this style as often as say a black bottom or foxtrot.

Then, Miss Red peels from her partner- a tall, dark woman with piercing eyes- and approaches the microphone once more. She catches her breath before finishing the song:

“That's all!”

The jazz music dies down and every flapper in the group bows, before exiting the stage, even as the crowd calls, “Encore! Encore!” Well, it doesn't seem like they're getting an encore. Instead, they get blown kisses and dainty waves of goodbye.

Langa stands up, because now he has to meet these amazing women (Miss Red) and ask them to become regulars. He could pay them handsomely; he has more than enough money to spare from bootlegging. He slips to the backstage, and follows the twisting of the balls until finds the changing room. He doesn't barge in, just in case they're still changing, but does knock.

The door cracks open, revealing Miss Red’s pretty face. She still has her makeup on and hasn't changed yet, but she does have a pair of pants beneath the skirt. When she sees who it is, she offers a shy smile and courtesies for him once more.

“Mister Snow,” she says in greeting. She slips through the crack she'd made in the door to stand with him in the hall, her hands clasped behind her back politely. “What did you think of the show? Hope it was to your liking.” She winks at him, and Langa could feel himself getting hot all over again.

He clears his throat, and nods his head. “It was amazing,” he replies, keeping his dignity about himself. “And you were especially amazing.”

Miss Red chuckles at him, and he loves the sound. He's starting to love everything about her. “Well I'm glad you think so,” she says airily with another small smile. “Now, what did you need, honey dear?”

‘Honey dear’. Langa is going to lose it. If anyone else had called him that, he would have snapped at them. But it sounds so good when it's coming from Miss Red.

“I was wanting to discuss with your manager about you becoming regulars here at my bar,” he explains, and clasps his hands behind his back. She's a tad shorter than she is, but she holds herself well enough that it's as if she is the same height as him. “Where is he?”

“Right here, darling,” Miss Red answers, taking Langa by surprise. He blinks owlishly at her, shocked by her answer. Usually, a flapper group such as this would have a man in charge to arrange things. Maybe the man they’d sent to the meetings had just been a connection, so that it wouldn't trace back to them. There aren't many women who take charge of this sort of thing, if at all. She smirks at him, resting a hand on her hip. “You look shocked.”

“Well- I'll be honest, I am,” Langa replies hesitantly. “But I find it amazing that you manage your own group. Sorry to have implied you were a man at all.”

She laughs a bit louder than before, like afternoon bells chiming. She covers her mouth with one of her hands, and says, “Not to fear. I am both, after all.”

Once more surprised, Langa gawks at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me right,” Miss Red says nonchalantly. “I am both a man, and a woman. I can be whatever you'd want me to be.” She winks at him while saying this last part, and even though he’s saying he's a man, he feels his face heating up all over again.

“So… you go by both male and female?” Langa asks slowly, trying to unravel it in his brain.

“That is correct, darling,” Miss Red says in confirmation. “If that is too strange for you, or changes your opinion of our group, then we shall take our leave once we've received our payment.”

He’s going to enter the dressing room, but Langa reaches out and grabs her wrist before thinking. She pauses, and looks back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“No!” Langa exclaims. “I don't quite yet fully understand it, but my opinion of you and your group has not changed. You are still welcome to become the regular dance group here.”

Miss Red peers at his face, as if trying to see if he's lying. He presses his lipstick painted lips together, before smiling at him once more. That smile is driving Langa insane, just like the rest of her….

“Well then, I'll take your offer up on that,” she says eventually, and slips her hand against his, intertwining their fingers together. Langa’s face becomes so hot he's afraid it's going to melt off. “As long as the pay here is good enough for my girls. We need to make a living, after all.”

“I'll pay you double than the average fee,” Langa replies quickly, and Miss Red’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. He smiles, nodding eagerly. “You have my word that your girls will always be safe and taken care of here. And I always keep my word, Miss Red.”

She hums softly, and then brushes her fingertips along the curve of Langa’s cheekbones. He goes still, her touches gentle and featherlight. She leans in close, their breaths mingling. “Well, I wouldn't mind the view out in our crowd, either,” he says, and Langa swallows heavily at how deep his voice has become. This is scandalous, getting so close to a lady after just meeting her, but he can't resist, especially when she’s the one initiating it. “You do have a pretty face, Mister Snow.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, butterflies forming in his stomach. “How can you say that when you're standing in front of me, hm?” he says, deciding to flirt back. Her eyes widen, and he sees a flush of red bloom across her cheeks. Rex really is his color. And it's starting to become Langa’s favorite. “You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

“Oh, you're just too much!” she says with laughter, playfully pushing on his chest. He stumbles a little, taken aback by his strength. She covers her mouth once more as she laughs, the red still painting her cheeks. He has freckles, Langa realizes. They just make her appear ever more beautiful. Especially when paired with her shining, honey amber eyes.

Her laughter tapers off, all the while Langa waits patiently for her to finish, softly smiling at her. Miss Red takes notice of this, and snorts softly. “Anyways, Mister Snow, I really must get back to cleaning up. Would you like us to come back tomorrow night, same time?”

“That would be splendid,” Langa replies easily. He catches her hand again, and brings it up to press a kiss to the knuckles. She huffs out a laugh at the action, and when he looks up he’s rolling his eyes. But, that red blush is still on his cheeks, an even darker shade than before. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Red.”

She pauses, before saying, “Do call me Reki, Mister Snow. That's my real name.”

Reki. It fits her.

“Just don't go announcing it everyone you run into, you hear?” she says teasingly, and he quickly nods.

“Of course not, Reki,” he replies. He hesitates for one moment before saying, “And you may call me Langa. Same rules apply.”

Reki smiles at him brightly, taking his breath away all over again. He should ask him out on a date, so he could see her outside of the bar, too. But his jaws lock, words getting stuck in his throat before he could. If Reki was both a man and woman, wouldn't that make him gay? And while he doesn't have a problem against gay people, he's never thought himself to be gay.

“Of course, Langa,” she says, and Langa likes the way he says his name. “Goodnight, darling.”

“And goodnight to you,” he answers, and they nod to one another.

Then, Reki opens the door, a burst of squealing and laughter from the other flappers erupting outside. She giggles, before heading inside, closing the door behind himself.

Langa stares at the door for a few minutes longer, wishing that he could call Reki back and invite him to go out together at some point. Men go out together all the time. It didn't have to be a date.

But his heart is racing too fast, and the thought of asking makes his very breath falter. So instead, he heads back to the bar, ready to start the closing preparations.

#teehee #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #renga #reki kyan #langa hasegawa #my writing #my drabbles #20's au #miss red and mister snow

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ironmandeficiency · 4 years ago

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random thought of mine, which clone do you think would have the best singing voice? Ik they’re clones so they all sound the same fmdndn but still. i think jesse or echo maybe?

jesse would be such a beautiful singer, not a doubt in my mind. his voice is velvety, a bit husky with a hard punch of power. i’ve entertained this thought on multiple occasions and will one day write smth with singing jesse.

echo though? akhdkshkakdj i never thought abt him singing before now but i can totally see it, his voice being a bit less gritty than jesse’s but with a smidge more range and a clearness that rivals the scarif oceans.

gonna send thank-you’s to @obiorbenkenobi and @hxldmxdxwn for letting me ramble abt this post on discord at ungodly hours.

i made a playlist for this almost-au as well!!! find it here, and i’ll soon add it to my spotify shenanigans.

now enjoy me going into more detail abt these two boys than anyone asked for:

genre-wise i think jesse would be a bit more cocky and playful with his go-to songs, and he will dominate the stage with his godlike dancing every time he’s given the chance;

radar love by the golden earring - this is the song he first gets the confidence to dance to. once the crowd goes wild for it and he realizes how much he enjoys moving around, he keeps on doing it. there’s this one thing he does that’s like, um, jolting/bouncing (not sure how else to describe it) but the crowd thinks it’s great when he does it.

sexbomb by tom jones - his dancing here is utterly erotic and he knows how attractive it is, holy kriff. it’ll bring the entire bar staff to a standstill bc damn look at his hips go, sex god much??? most definitely grinds against the mic stand and gfgalkdfjghlkf it never fails to fluster quite a few patrons (this will soon be a full-fledged fic so keep your eyes open)

no mr. nice guy by alice cooper - he jokes sometimes that he was actually quite peaceful as a cadet before joining the five-oh-first. it isn’t a joke tho and you can blame fives and hardcase for making him go wild. but this song makes him think of when he stopped caring abt trying to impress the longnecks and he enjoys hitting the higher notes.

rock the casbah by the clash - this is where he learns to snap his hips to every “rock” with a bit extra force. the crowd has a blast clapping along, some of the more drunk people screeching “the shareef don’t like it!” at the top of their lungs. it’s upbeat

rock this town by the stray cats - he’s having a damn good time with this song, a lot of elvis presley vibes. if he had enough hair he’d flip it. he does a bit of air guitar and will sway his mic stand around and bounce his knee to the beat.

strutter by kiss - he loves this one, it’s a personal favorite. he;ll be running his hands down his body when he’s still, but the times he’s walking around the stage he’s got a hand on his swinging hips, literally strutting. it’s so fun to watch him embrace the music

bad to the bone by george thorogood & the destroyers - a joking request from fives that turned into a crowd favorite. fives didn’t think his vod could do it but jesse rose to the occasion as he charmed his way through the song with his fun swagger and playful air sax. he drank quite a bit of water after this one bc he was unused to using as much gravel in his voice as this song took, but he enjoys it nonetheless.

echo would be softer with his choices, leaning more towards soulful and sweet in comparison to jesse’s wild side. he also plays both guitar and piano, i take no criticism on these points;

the night they drove old dixie down by the band - he plays this one after a rough mission and it’s deeply resonating with everyone there, everyone either putting down their drinks to let the song flow thru them, or grab something stronger to let it lull them into inebriation.

no plan by hozier - he sounds so beautiful with literally any hozier song tbh, but this one is his favorite. this was the closest he got to smth soulful before the times he duetted with jesse and he really enjoyed it. it was smooth yet passionate and is one he sang for the first time when dejected and unsure abt his future.

piano man by billy joel - he plays the piano for this song & kriff did it take him a while to both master it and find someone that played the harmonica well enough to join him. this is rex’s favorite song to hear echo play and will hum it quite often. echo enjoys throwing himself into playing this one in a way he doesn’t often do & he’s called “the piano arc” the first time he plays it. the nickname sticks but he likes it, so no harm done.

amie by pure prarie league - this was a fun song for echo to learn and he really enjoys how gentle it is. he’ll tap his foot with the music and just let himself go. sometimes he’ll catch himself moving his shoulders slightly as he plays but he doesn’t stop. when he plays this one, he prepares to hear his brothers hum it for at least a week afterward, it’s just that good.

house of the rising sun by the animals - this one isn’t heard until some time after he and jesse duet & echo exhibits his capacity to have a bit of gravel, which is absolutely heavenly when heard. there’s a lot of held-out notes here and a special kind of twang he’s able to finesse, it’s stunning.

skinny love by bon iver - he learned to play guitar to this song right here, it’s one of his faves and loves how tender & raw it can be. he’s heard covers of it that added too much to it & detracted from the intensity of the emotions, so he sticks with the original. it’s an extremely vulnerable song and it’s somber, but he enjoys baring himself without the risk of being shamed for it. several people cry the first time they hear him sing this song. (this one will turn into a fic as well, time tbd)

bad moon rising by creedence clearwater revival - echo sang this one for the first time tne night before the five-oh-first got their orders, which ended up being to felucia. there are always strange occurences when this song is sung & a few ppl will do anything to keep echo from singing it bc they think it’s an omen. everyone enjoys hearing the song, no doubt, but the moment it ends, some battalion or another is doomed to a bad assignment.

now if these two were to ever team up???? no one would be able to talk about anything else for weeks afterwards

you don’t mess around with jim by jim croce - they’re sitting on barstools in front of their mics, echo strumming on his guitar while jesse pats his thigh as a substitution to the drums. v playful vibes with this song and they can’t stop grinning as they sing. it’s fun and they’ll sometimes lightly tap each other with their feet throughout the performance to tease. lighthearted and always enjoyed.

all this and heaven too by florence + the machine - it’s got enough power for jesse but is also delicate enough for echo, achieving a great balance of their strengths as well as a tambourine. you’d probably think that jesse and a tambourine can cause as much trouble as hardcase with explosives, but he’s insanely focused on getting the hits right. no one expects to hear echo belt out such strong notes in contrast to his normal choices but damn they love it. and jesse?? softly breathing the verses with a delicateness no one thought he possessed?? they’re weak for them both.

soul shop by prophets and outlaws - they harmonize SO!!! DAMN!!! GOOD!!! echo playing the piano and jesse sitting on top of it just straight up VIBING. the entire bar is swaying with the music and letting themselves melt into the floor. none of them were prepared for echo to harness a little bit of gravel in his voice or for jesse to capture the melodic tone that echo doesn’t have to put effort into. this song, having a lot of soul and grit to it but is smoother than corellian whiskey, is a performance for the record books.

if y’all wanna hear more about these two darlings singing, or if you have any other headcanons you want to share/ask me abt, please don’t hesitate to pop into my asks!! i would love to hear from you!!

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bates--boy · 4 years ago

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Peter was just about done with work that day, cleaning the bottles for the infant animals when his phone buzzed in his pockets. He shut the sink off, yanked off the wet rubber gloves, and pulled his device out of his pocket. “Oh!” he chirped, seeing the name of the sender.

[Naseem] Yo, Pete, it’s Naz. Was wondering if you have plans for lunch today?

[Naseem] I wanted us to do some extra rap practice and maybe go over the lines between Troy and Stefan before our big night

Peter turned to sit back against the lip of the sink, hugging one of his arms across his torso as he typed.

[Peter] i have a half-day today so i’m free once i clock out at twelve.

[Peter] i’d be happy to buy you lunch if you haven’t eaten yet. i know a great place to get a bite to eat.

[Naseem] Bet. My break’s half past noon. See you at your work?

[Peter] fine by me! see ya!

Smiling at the screen before shoving his phone into his pocket, Peter finished cleaning the rest of the bottles, went to the changing area to wiggle out of the waterproof overalls, and then to the employee area to punch out at the time clock and fetch his hoodie and his copy of the stage play from his locker. He looked down at the practically beaten-up book, some pages curled in, corners folded, colorful tabs poking out of the pages: pink for Josef’s spoken lines, blue for Troy’s; green for Josef’s songs, yellow for Troy’s. Slightly crinkled from the times Peter shoved it into his bag to carry at all times, or when he had his quick bursts of sleep while reading over the thing.

With a quick cleaning at the employee basin, Peter made a brisk walk back to the grounds, heading to the entrance area. He sent a quick message of his location and waited with the play lying open, quietly murmuring Josef’s verses. Soon, the familiar deep blue XC60 rolled onto the lot, with the Nigerian, Palestinian, and Swedish flags painted across the back. Naseem climbed out and waved as he strolled over, a leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder and his copy of the play rolled in his hand. When he drew close enough, Naseem said, “Wow, it’s been a while since I last came here.”

“Ah, so you probably don’t know about the new aerial arts performance they have here,” Peter grinned as they walked back to the conservatory grounds together.

Naseem shrugged. “I have. And I’ve been meaning to come check it out, but, you know. Schedule..”

“Well, the next time you’re free, come on over! I can even sneak you in for a show!” Peter nudged his shoulder against Naseem.

“How are you gonna--” Naseem stopped once he saw the coy grin on Peter’s face. “Lemme guess: you’re the star?”

“One of them.” Peter bobbed his shoulder and looked away in faux modesty. He giggled and patted Naseem’s arm. “Come on, I know a great picnic area we can practice in.”

Peter and Naseem took the stroll to the benches, dodging giggling little kids darting everywhere to get to the next animal enclosure that caught their eye, and the wandering animals that escaped their habitats, mainly small bird and marsupial species. After Peter bought them both bottled smoothies at one of the snack kiosks, they settled at a table near the wooden fence post, drawing annoyed glances from passersby as they sat on the tabletop instead of the benches.

“Which scenes do you want to practice today?” Peter asked before pulling a long draught from his bottle. “We can just do a couple so I can treat you to lunch.”

Naseem skimmed the pages he had marked, going back and forth and shrugging. “Ones that have our characters singing so we can work these vocal cords. Let’s start with...” he consulted his shorthand notes. “Act III, scene 4. So, my character comes up to yours.”

Naseem clambered down the picnic table, took a few steps away, and stomped back. The chills Peter felt may or may not have to do with the complete switch of energy Naseem made. Even his green eyes flared with fury.

“Why the hell did you do that to Josef?!”

Peter sighed as his character did, shifting on the table and leaning forward on his knees. So cool and unaffected, to the point of almost being despondent. Peter still couldn’t figure this Troy out, but he spoke his lines.

“I didn’t do a thing to him, Stef.”

Naseem crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Oh, really? So when he said no to that stage deal because ‘his mom’s gonna die alone in their apartment while he’s out singing for pocket change’, that wasn’t you?” Peter had to pause here, as Troy struggled to find an excuse. Naseem threw up his arms. “God, what is wrong with you?! What kind of a friend are you?!”

“A realistic one.” Peter’s tone remained calm, stoic - a stoner too mellowed out to get worked up.

Naseem rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Realistic. Jo finally had what he needed right in his lap, and you couldn’t even be supportive of him because you’re realistic. That’s bull crap, even for you.”

“You can say whatever you want about me, Stef, but of all these people feeding him these wild dreams --” Peter swept his hand about, gesturing to a figurative crowd while a few eyes turned their way. He pointed to his own chest. “--I’m the only one looking out for him.”

“No, looking out for him would be helping him with this. He has a chance to get a better life, but you don't want that for him!"

"I don't--?!" Peter gave a scoffing laughing and rolled his eyes. "You're so far off, it's funny!"

"Yeah? So all this time you kept telling him to don't do it, it's not because you know you're wasting your own life being some bum mad that you lost your trust fund and you're angry that Josef can make it?"

"No!" Peter's voice started to boil, Troy's cool, arrogant façade starting to crack and chip. His free hand curled into a shaking fist.

"Then why? Why are you being such a shitty friend?!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter could see a uniformed figure walking up to them, parents trying to distract their kids from the argument.

"Because this would break him just like it almost did me!"

In a blink of an eye, and a sudden flush of heat on his cheeks, Peter was on his feet, too, feeling Troy's despair as he and Naseem were practically nose to nose. For all the anger, the anguish, and the overprotective adrenaline Troy was supposed to feel at that moment, Peter channeled the underlying heartache and exhaustion; he sounded tired.

"Like it did my sister."

"Er, excuse me," the uniformed man said when he came close enough, a hand reaching out to them. "Is there a prob--"

Naseem stared at Peter for a breath. "Your sister?"

Peter gave a soft, sad laugh. "Oh, that's right, I never told you about Anna, did I?" He silently filled his lungs with air.

You don't know the story of a boy and a girl Mommy pleasers destined to dominate the world

The worker looked between the two men, casting an especially long glance at the singing one. "...What?"

Born to hold the dreams that Mommy tucked away Cause she got bare footed and pregnant Waiting on her someday

The worker furrowed his brows. “What is--” he spotted the open scripts in their hands and lowered his own hand. “Oh... okay...”

Peter felt a tickle of a grin almost appearing on his lips, amusement almost breaking his character. Almost.

Commercial deals, toddlers on every single ad Barely out of diapers, and we’re out there selling fads Taught to walk so we could tap dance and do a twirl And hold our hands out for all the gold, silver, and pearls

Yanked outta school when the lime lights calling us Daddy got you a gig, so you better not fucking fuss! Tuck in your gut, tilt up your chin, chest out and sing You’re gonna make it worth taking this diamond ring

What you do with heavy makeup and cameras flashing? Swallow cotton and pinch our cheeks red to stay dashing Seeing enemies in friends looking for a ladder to climb Trying to bring you to ruin when they find the right time To strike, like vipers on the hunt for your big juicy kill And the only way to stop the cracks is a tiny yellow pill

A tiny yellow pill A tiny yellow pill A handful of tiny yellow pills Until her heart went still

Naseem slowly started to unfold his arms, his character Stefan hit with a world-shattering realization. “Oh...”

Peter turned his face away. “Yeah...”

Naseem shook his head and sighed. “Man, I’m... I’m sorry. But, see, here’s the thing...”

I had never known you were crushed this hard Ruled by your fears, beaten, tattered, and battle scarred Now that I think it, so much shit start to make sense Is this why a little stage work gets you so incensed?

I hate that for you, all this pain you’ve been burdened Chasing a high and identity that doesn’t leave you hurtin’ But it’s unfair how you hurt Josef with your sister’s ghost Breaking a dream for someone else’s overdose

What does it do for the person on the other spectrum Piss poor, tryna get meds for his ailing, dying mum When even his close friend is robbing him of a dream Cuz he can’t stop himself from falling apart at the seam? Still blinded by phantom lights, suffocating at the gills? What about Josef’s mum little pills?

Her little pills Her life saving pills If she don’t get hers, then her heart will stand still.

This was the part where Peter is stunned into silence, indignant, hurt, scrambling for more excuses, still trying to cling to the death of his sister -- the crux of Troy’s listlessness and indifference. But then a loud cry rang out around them.

The crowd of mere picnickers grew during their rehearsal, it seemed, now cheering and clapping and whistling, someone even going “You tell him, baby!”

Stuttering, Peter looked towards Naseem and exchanged smiles with him. They stood closer together, held hands, and took a bow.

“Thank you, thank you!” Peter called out, waving to the cell phones held out. “If you want more, purchase tickets for Inner City Lights before they sell out!”

“Written and produced by Gunnar Didig!” Naseem added, calling out the website to purchase over the hooting and whistling.

#note to self: never write a musical #life thus far ( story )#droid noodles ( writing )#and suicide imp tw #long post

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scarletwellyboots · 5 years ago

Text

a (semi) comprehensive list of the moments i fell in love listening to the horror and the wild

the rockrose and the thistle

LOVE opening with the howling wind

joey’s northern accent slipping in super strong for “trying desperately to sew / and i know the kindest thing”

madeleine’s almost whispered harmony

“may i, i ask, may i”

the switch to madeleine only for the last two lines

the horror and the wild

how loud and immediate it starts

“you’re the words that i promise i don’t mean”

the growls ! this has been covered but “promise” is. important

the silence for “remember me i ask”

madeleine’s beautiful “day by day” in the back of joey’s verse

FRET NOT DEAR HEART LET NOT THEM HEAR

between “welcome to the storm” and “i am thunder” the drums sound like a clap of thunder

idk music terms but their differing harmonies for “wild”

the strings !! especially how they continue under “remember me”

madeleine’s slower “you passed your fingers” on the last repetition

not finishing “i am the wild”??? letting the instrumentation finish the phrase?? the way the song feels unfinished?? incredible

wild blue yonder

it’s so pretty!! it starts so sunny :)

“without...” “YOU”

“i woulda gone so much blonder” lyrical genius

the build of “so one last time love come and rip my clothes off”

i am in fact a slut for counterpoint duets so i’m in love with this band

“flirting” / “wasn’t flirting”

“halt!” and the silence that follows

the accent on “covers”

listen we talk about “dear heart” but “lover” and “darling” and all the pet names they use are so soft and so delightfully like. fey

“every stone you threw i stood on to better see the view”

the silence after “fear of sound”

“i’m lost” / “i’m found” “in you”

the melody of “so tight i’d bruise you” and like. the lilt in “bruise” !!

i love the background vocals kicking in for “build this world”

“or a robot vampire i dunno” like i said. lyrical genius

“hoooooold melover” i love the drawn-out note followed by how quick the next bit is

so many of their songs feel like they finish on a breath in? they feel like unfinished thoughts and i adore it

welly boots

the soft guitar intro i’m !!

“i am above you and i love you”

“i’ll be with you all along as long as you are kind to those who are not strong and cannot find their scarlet welly boots” i’m

the lilt on “hard” is !

the melody of the section from “when you scream it’s not fair” to “if only you could hear my voice”

the instrumental coming in before the end of “i’m not still there”

and GOD the percussion and the marching feel of the beat

“you were supposed to be my light” ok just rip my heart out thanks

the melody of “when you scream ‘i’m not alright’” to “how could you leave me here” is the same as “when you scream it’s not fair” but stronger and more desperate

“leave me here” feels like a scream

“i know you’re strong enough to do this on your own”

madeleine’s offset repetition of “strong enough to do this”

sometimes she says “stronger on your own” and i. LYRICS

the slowing to the original drum beat to the original guitar

“oh jesus christ you’ll miss me”

the breathlessness of “stairs” fuck me up why don’t you.

“a brand new pair of scarlet welly boots” cool i didn’t need a heart

the guitar outro is so soft !

farewell wanderlust

hello piano !

EVERYTHING about madeleine’s voice in the first verse

the contrast of joey’s almost spoken baritone

the way she hits the ends of syllables

“hey darlin’ hey”

the slide on “say”

the quiet almost heartbeat-sounding percussion

“i promise you i’ll be better”

the growl on “rubbing” and “rugs”

“it’s my curse / to try and make it right but by trying make it worse”

“the jesus of wishing to christ he’ll come back” !!

the quieting to “farewell wanderlust” and the lilt of it

she’s down DUN DUN she’s dead DUN DUN

joey’s “you alright?” and how deep his voice is compared to hers

madeleine singing “something more comfortable” and joey speaking “be our guest”

the piano mimics madeleine’s voice for “hoik! of her bra”

joey’s voice is so throaty it sounds almost like he’s been crying we love an emotive king

“i promise you i’m not broken / i promise you there’s more / more to come, more to reach for, more to hurl at the door”

“this here isn’t makeup, it’s a porcelain tomb”

THIS HERE IS NOT SINGING I’M JUST SCREAMING IN TUNE

the lack of instruments for “i’m just screaming in tune” so that he really is

he’s down DUN DUN he’s dead DUN DUN

the quieter “s/he’s down” section at the end

again it finishes like there’s more to be said

fair

the shuffling of the recording noises i !

the breathlessness! how he speaks/whispers “can’t be said”

“today i somehow understand the reason i was born”

“he’s got so much fucking hair” i’m.

“she is stronger than he’s ever been”

“when i’m actually...really fucking...cross at you for something”

“it’s not fair how much i love you” cool okay back to ripping my heart out

“inundated with the fated thought of you” is So pretty

“darling i was born to press my head between your shoulder blades”

“dear heart it’s me” again with the dear heart !!

“just trying to watch the office....with my yoghurt” lyrical genius

the switch of him/her in the second chorus !

the breaks in joey’s voice for unreasonable i’m weeping like ! he talked once about being allowed to feel like his voice doesn’t have to be perfect and it shows here with the breaks lending themselves to the emotion of the song

for him standing next to her people will think he’s alright but people will think she’s cool which really shows characterizations

the whisper of “darling rooftop wreck”

“that’s what she said” i’m.

madeleine only coming in to the song for “where have you been”

“it’s not fair ‘cause you make me ache you bastard”

that unwanted animal

strap in lads

the almost-whisper of some of the lines is !

the actual whisper of “you light the candle”

“bairns” we love two forest spirits

“to love me” is whispered despite “you try so loud” so of course she can’t hear it

joey’s background line !!!

THE SCRATCHING

joey coming into the main melody only for “what.” and then the “dear” being whispered

“throw the plate at the wall” can you tell i really love the whispered lines

THE INSTRUMENTS and the growling background vocals listen it surprised and amazed me so much this is where i smacked my head on the wall

“but fuck all your plans i’m bored” yes characterizations

“i make shipwrecks out of my dress”

joey’s higher harmonization feels so desperate when usually he’s the lower range of the harmony

“you rip my ribcage open / and devour what’s truly yours”

the repeated lyrics from battle cries but in a different melody i’m so serious what a lyrical genius

the melody matching the beat of the guitar for “it can hear you / it wants me to”

(let me out!)

just. the alliterative sounds of “hollow holofernes”

the fucking. “no not i” please sir you can’t do that to me

the final violin note like a final cry

marbles

MARBLES

lowering madeleine’s parts sounds so much softer and more relaxed

love being able to hear the movement of hands along the guitar neck

counterpoint conversation songs are so ! good !

“i chipped my teeth on every joke you cracked”

“you stole the best years of my life” “i’ll give them back”

“sure as hell can’t lie to me/you now”

i LOVE their different melodies for “i will wait and hope”

also i think they switched melody lines from the beechmast version? not sure though

“your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep but a place for crows to rest their feet”

the little pause before “went”

“oh god” and a little laugh

i miss madeleine’s “do you think i’m sexy” but

WORKIN’ SHIFTS TIL WE CRIED listen i LOVE the lyric change

how quick and natural the back and forth is it feels like a quick conversation it’s delightful

“you’re not flawed darling you’re just a little under-rehearsed”

“you, you’d reply with a drink in your hand/glint in your eye”

“i’m all yours/oh dear god dear heart i’m here”

the humming!!

“i’ve loved you for a hundred years” “certainly fucking feels like it”

NOW I GET TO MEET YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME EVERY SINGLE DAY

the build on that line !!

joey’s sustained notes while madeleine sings the chorus

madeleine’s vocalizations !! queen

joey joining in for just one of her little vocalizations

the song finishes before she’s gotten through even the first half of her vocalization line it feels so unfinished but so good that way

battle cries

COUNTERPOINT

with headphones joey is in your left ear and madeleine’s in your right and i wish they did it stronger but even what we have is so good

“who died” “who’ll save you” and the juxtaposition of “who died and made you king of it all” with “who’ll save you when you fall”

“some fictions we took to mean fate believe me i know” and she says “yes” so that they say no and yes at the same time

“tell the truth to me love!”

“look at me as you say this” “you’re home”

the whole “would be proud to have known” especially considering characterization of her speaker and his

dear heart!! it’s just. so soft

“that creaking you hear in my bones is not pain it’s applause”

the little laugh after the chorus!!

“with you i could summon” “come on love”

“watch them dance out the plays that we wrote from the heart” / “sing your notes, play your part” and the various meanings of “play” they use

“we were gods” “we were kids.”

“our devils broke ranks” “oh dear god”

“binge watch a box set, drink wine, reminisce” just sounds So Nice

“this isn’t a breakup dear heart it’s a season finale!”

the vocalizations!! the background vocals!!

the back-and-forth of “it’s not pain” “it’s applause”

the drums that quiet to the guitar for the last verse

the way joey hits consonants when he sings quietly like this

the rise and crash of the rhythm here is like. it almost feels iambic can you tell i’m an english major studying renaissance lit currently

“now at the end” “at the end of all things”

ending the album with “i’m doing fine” !!!!!

even now it feels like a single beat off from being finished which is a really cool feeling ! like it leaves you wanting more feeling like there’s more to be said like the story isn’t done like there’s something missing idk big fan

#the amazing devil #joey batey #madeleine hyland #the horror and the wild #listen. LISTEN. i love counterpoint duets #will i ever shut up about it? fuck no.#when will tumblr put my posts in the tags #we love a functioning website :)

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scourgewins · 5 years ago

Text

Hats Off

(Drawing Entity and I did a roleplay that delved a bit into Jack’s backstory, so of course I had to write it. This has a different format than I usually do- a lot of jumping through time. We’ll see how it turned out. Jack fans, prepare for some angst, but with a happy ending because I can’t hurt my sewer boy too much.)

(Warnings: crying, fainting, parental neglect but it’s not intentional, Jack gets a bit careless about his own personal safety, Sammy is a jerk but what else is new?)

Up here on the roof of the studio, it was cold and windy. Jack kept a hand on the brim of his hat to ensure it didn’t fly off and squinted at the city below him, using his other hand to shade his eyes from the setting Sun. The whole scene looked like a poem waiting to be written, and already he began to construct a verse.

Beneath the fire a city lies,

Shaded by unknowing skies-

“What are you doing up here?”

Jack bit his lip and glared into the distance, “Getting some peace and quiet.”

“That so?” Sammy moved over to him and leaned over the side of the building, resting his elbows on the parapet. The wind whipped the long hair his ponytail hadn’t contained, so much so that the musician had to tuck it firmly behind his ears.

Sammy glanced at him, “Don’t let me disturb you, then.”

“I shall try.” the lyricist replied through gritted teeth.

Sammy was quiet but Jack knew that wouldn’t last long.

“Come up here often?” the musician said at last.

Jack sighed, “When I so please. You?”

“When I feel like it.”

Sammy considered a nearby building and said absently, “Sure is windy.”

Jack glanced at him and narrowed his eyes, “Yes.”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll lose your hat?”

“I would never let it fall.”

“Sure about that?”

“Why would-”

With a quick swipe, Sammy batted the hat right from Jack’s grip. The lyricist stared in horror as it sailed over the edge of the roof, buffeted by the wind. Without pausing to think, he made a wild grab for it, almost throwing himself over the parapet.

“Woah, Jack!” Sammy gripped him by the collar of his jacket and yanked him back to safety. Jack staggered but regained his footing immediately and dashed toward the stairwell. No! No! No! He couldn’t let anything happen to his hat.

He sprinted down the narrow, dark staircase that smelled of dust and mold and canned food…

Normally, Jack would have found the scent unpleasant, but his nose was so stuffed up and wet right now that it didn’t bother him. There was plenty else to bother him.

The 10-year old sniffed and wiped his dripping nose on the sleeve of his shirt. Mom hated it when he and his siblings did that. Jack couldn’t find it in him to care at the moment. His sleeve moved up past his nose to his eyes, rubbing them in an effort to clear the tears away. It worked for about three seconds before the tears came back in greater number.

Bringing his knees up, Jack buried his face in them. His breath came in small hiccups, deliberately quietened so no one would know he was in here, beneath the lowest shelf in the pantry, hidden behind bags of flour.

Two of his siblings ran by, laughing and yelling, outside the door. Someone else was crying in the distance, and Jack could hear his mother rush to comfort them. It was always loud in this house. Always.

There was never time for any one of the many children in this household. Just when his mother or father gave attention to one, another would rush to claim it. And Jack, smaller than the others, one of the many middle children, never one to speak up, tended to be the most pushed aside. Even on his birthday.

The boy clapped his hands over his ears to block out the constant noise. His small fingers clenched in his curly black hair, longer than he wanted it because his parents never seemed to have time to give him a haircut.

Distantly, he heard the front door open and close. His father’s voice spoke and his mother responded, though Jack couldn’t tell what it was they said. Then loud footsteps made their way to the kitchen, becoming clearer as they approached. The pantry door was flung open and the light switch flipped on. Jack stared at the faded brown of his father’s shoes, the only part of him visible from the shelf he was under. A knee knelt down to the floor and began selecting canned food from the opposite shelf.

He must have heard Jack’s breathing, for he suddenly stopped and turned, lowering his head. Blue eyes met blue eyes as Jack’s father’s lined, mustached face came to level with his. It was clear he’d just come home from work, since he still wore his coat and hat.

“Jack?” his father asked, “What are you doing in here?”

Jack felt his face flush with shame. He hadn’t wanted anyone to see him crying like this. Now his dad would force him to come out and all his siblings would tease him.

In answer to his dad’s question, Jack just shook his head, not trusting his voice. His father sighed and got back to his feet with a groan. He’s leaving. That was something Jack should be grateful for, but instead he just felt hurt because he’d just banged his hand on the railing of the staircase as he reached ground level…

Jack’s feet skidded against the hardwood floor as he turned abruptly toward the animation department, shoving past a very stunned Wally. He could hear Sammy sprinting down the stairs after him. Panting, the lyricist bolted through the animation department and down the hallway to the exit.

“Jack, what happened?” It was Henry’s voice calling after him. Jack didn’t break stride and reached his hand out to open the front door.

His hat lay in the middle of the street. Without pausing, he put on a burst of speed and made for it. A car drove past and just barely missed the hat, making Jack’s heart flutter in panic. Another car came around the bend and sped toward it.

“Stop!” he screamed, waving his hands as he leaped forward.

“Jack!” Sammy’s breathless voice shouted in his ear and grasped his arm tightly, jarring him in place. The car slowed down slightly after seeing Jack about to rush into the road, but not enough to avoid the hat. Jack watched as the hat he’d worn since he was a child disappeared under one of the tires.

“No!” He stumbled forward and fell to his knees, forcing himself from Sammy’s grip. It hadn’t happened! It couldn’t have!

The grass rose to claim him as Jack hit the ground, his mind winding down and shutting off with a-

Click went the door to the pantry as it shut, but Jack’s dad hadn’t left. The tired man instead settled onto the floor in front of Jack. The boy’s heart beat faster as he came to the sudden realization that they were alone, no siblings to interrupt.

His father again fixed his eyes on Jack, a knowing look in them, “Is this about your birthday?”

Yes, it was, but it was also about a whole lot of other things. Jack nodded.

Another sigh, “We didn’t forget Jack, it’s just… well… I’ve got work. Your mother has to take care of you and your brothers and sisters and the house. We’re always so busy that it’s hard to focus on just one kid. And yeah, we mess up. A lot. But we’re trying, okay?”

Jack nodded again. His dad’s face wrinkled in thought, eyes fixed on the ragged lace of his left shoe.

“We couldn’t afford to buy you anything, you know.”

Jack lowered his gaze. He knew. It had always been that way and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

“But we hoped maybe… something of mine might suffice.”

That brought his attention back up. His dad’s gaze was back on him as he reached up and took the hat from his head.

“I think you said you liked this hat once. I don’t know, might have been one of your siblings.”

“No, it was me.” Jack said quickly, his voice sounding strange after crying so long.

His father nodded, “That’s good.”

He scooted back a foot, “Come out of there.”

Jack complied, crawling out from his hiding place to kneel in front of his dad. His father considered him for a few moments and Jack held his breath. Then the weary man gripped the hat by the brim and placed it firmly on his son’s head. It immediately slipped down to the boy’s nose, and Jack tilted the brim back to see his father smiling at him.

“You look good.” he said, “It’ll fit you just right in a few years. Every young man should go into life with a nice hat.”

Jack smiled slowly, feeling warm and safe, even on the hardwood floor of the studio...

“Hey, I think he’s coming round!”

“Ah! He’s alive!”

“He wasn’t dead, Wally.”

“Everybody back up, okay? Jack, can you hear me?”

“Are you dead?”

“Wally, I swear to goodness-!”

Everyone quieted down as Jack slowly opened his eyes, seeing first Henry, who was bending over him, then Wally, and…

Sammy.

Jack scrambled to a sitting position as memories of recent events returned to him.

“My hat…” His voice broke.

“Your hat is fine, Jack.” Henry said reassuringly. Jack blinked at him, unwilling to accept false hope.

“Look!” Wally pointed over at Sammy. Sammy sighed and moved more into Jack’s line of sight, holding something out to him.

It was his hat. Jack seized it quickly and inspected it. Part of one side had been crushed by the car, resulting in a noticeable dent.

“It’s fixable.” Henry said, “I can take it to the hat shop for you, if you like.”

Jack couldn’t speak. He turned his hat over with shaky fingers, feeling its familiar curve and texture. It was damaged, but not beyond repair. As that realization sank in, Jack started to cry.

Henry was surprised but quick to hide it, “It’s alright now, Jack. Everything’s alright.”

Wally, ever the sensitive one, started to sniffle, and was pretty soon sobbing beside the lyricist.

Sammy stood slightly apart, not meeting Jack’s gaze. Henry was the first to address him.

“Sammy, what do you have to say for yourself?” His voice was strict.

The musician looked at him, at the ceiling, at the floor, then finally at Jack.

“Sorry for tossing your hat off the roof. Won’t happen again.” he muttered, and for some reason the apology sounded genuine, though maybe Jack couldn’t hear right through his sobs.

A part of Jack felt he should yell at Sammy for what he did, but the rest of him couldn’t muster the energy. Instead, he hugged his hat to him, careful not to dent it even more, and continued to cry.

“Thanks.” Jack said quietly, looking up at his dad. His father chuckled and patted him gently on the shoulder.

“Don’t mention it.”

Then he regathered up the cans and stood up.

“Happy birthday, Jack.” He said, then walked out and shut the door. Jack stared after him, already wishing he’d come back.

The weight of the hat on his head came to mind as he sat there, and Jack reached a hand up to feel its smooth, curved surface. The smile that had faded from his face returned as his tears dried up, and he adjusted the hat so it sat better on his head. At that moment, he knew he would wear it forever.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #Jack Fain #Sammy Lawrence #Henry Stein #Wally Franks #Writing Entity #TW Crying #TW Fainting #TW Neglect

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hjh-ceilo-monster · 5 years ago

Text

Hybrid Verse : Bunkermate (JHS)

Y/N Pov.

And again,me myself and I alone.

'Who tell the police that I was here, damnit!'

I curse with myself while walking around like an idiot.Before you start throwing me a lot of questions,I'll tell you a story.

Once upon a time,there was an orphan girl escape from the foster house.She needed to find a 'home' every year.Now she end up on the street again because someone tell the police about her,the end.

I walk down the street and my feet start screaming at me.I don't know where should I live from now.Walking under the sun that hot as hell shine on your head is tough.However, no time to waste.I continue my journey until reach an old bridge.

"Wow fantastic,now I don't need to find a new home for another three years." I settle down my bag and start to explore the area. It's nice actually.There is a river under it and the water is crystal clear.I can see fish and creatures swimming.Both sides of the bridge are forest.I can get as much food as I want.

Night begins and I start to search for food before it's getting too dark.Wandering around the area,from side to the other into it's completely dark.

"At least I get a fish and some berries."

I hum along the way back to the bridge.I see there is the room or two under the bridge.I walk down the old stairs.It makes some creek but it fine.When I reach the bottom,there is a bit of light beaming from somewhere.I follow them till I see the rusty door.

"Lucky me, there's the room for me."

I enter the room.Cehcking my surrounding,it’s so dusty.I try to find something in my backpack and find a mini broom.I clean all the dust off before my allergies spark.

“It’s nice.” I admire the room.‘This is mine.’I repeat it in my head.No one gonna find me here and I’m gonna live here with peace.Although it’s far from the city,I’ll be fine with this.

“Stupid polices.”

Next day

“Umm,why so heavy?” I roll around my bed.Filling a thing weigh down on my body,wait? A thing? I quickly open my eyes and see a red panda sleep soundly one my body.

“Awe lil baby,how comes you’re here?”

I look at him,I suppose,which cling on me like I’m a tree.I know I’m flat(if you know what I mean) but,now something appreciate me at least.I push him gently until he lays on the matress.I decide to find something to eat.

“I think I need a camp fire.” I gather the wood and start the fire.Hunting time begin and I explore the area.I’m good with living in the wood since my old orphan neared a wood when I was young.

*scratch scratch*

“Hmmm?” I look down and see the little guy wake up.Scratching gently and cling on my leg,I carry him to big log near the fire.

“Hello,little guy.Wanna eat?” He looks at the grill fish on the stick.Why do I feel like he shake his head? He then disappears which make me confuse.

I eat my grill fish and other things from the backpack.The little buddy pop up out nowhere while carry some fruits in his small embrace.He come close to me and start eating his fruit.Then some of it he put into my lap.

“Do you want me to eat this?”

*a lil paw pat again on my lap*

“Gosh you’re cute.”

Author POV.

That’s the first time that Y/N get to know her little buddy,red panda.She never know that red panda is something beyond what she called wild creature...

“Sir,our subject 180294 is missing.” A lady in the lab coat inform her leader.

“Go get him,he’s our secret subject that shouldn’t be out of here.”

The lab team start tracking the location of their experiment subject.The security of the laboratory double up the number of guards.

“Lil buddy,where are you?” Y/N call the red panda that disappear to nowhere again.They’ve been living with each other for more than a month now.She notices a lot of things about him.He seems to act like a human more than an animal.

Sometimes act grumpy but, mostly sunshine.Prefer fruits more than meats,sleep less than usual red panda and is a ‘hyper’ creature.However,she didn’t really care and take care of him like he’s one of her friend.Treating animal like human might sound weird but,that’s what she’s been doing.

Everything between them seem fine.Once Y/N even told him that it’s them against the world until one day,he’s gone from her.

4 years later : Jhope POV.

Hi,you might all wonder where am I from.That’s not important since you already guess who I am from the photo above.Now there,let’s introduce myself.

I’m Jung hoseok,Jhope.Used to be red panda but,successfully develop as hybrid human from the lab.The lab wasn’t a nice place in my memory.Thanks to my ‘mom’ who is my creator.She helped me to escape.I’m now a choreographer of HopeOnTheStreet Studio.

“Sir,there’ll be your new assistant in a minute.”

“Clair I don’t know why you quit.Not because of me right?”

“I have a problem with my family sir,no need to worry.”

“Don’t forget,you’re still welcome here alright.”I look at her who is packing her stuff and ready to leave my studio.She’s one of the best assistant.

“Don’t be sad sir,you’ll meet her in a minute.She’s nice,I could tell.”

“I hope she isn’t like the one before you.That time was really like hell to me.”

“I can assure you sir.This girl loves kids.Beside,I’ll be with you today as a final day so cheer up.” I collect my sadness and cheer up for her.She’s more like my noona than an assistant.When our conversation finish,someone enter the studio. My gaze follow at the door that auto slide open.

‘It isn’t her,right?’ The girl walks toward us.She isn’t ‘her’,is she? The question runs in my head and make me feel light head.Her face is exactly like her,her smile too and her scent,god I don’t know what to do right now.

“Sir...Jhope...are you here?”

“Y..yes noona,I’m here.”

“Hi,I’m Y/N.Thank you for accept me,I’ll work my best.” I chuckle when she gives me a 90 degrees bow that nearly makes herself fall.

“Nice to meet you and work well.”

I dismiss her with Clair.Clair start walking with the girl around my studio.I go the opposite direction and enter one of the studio room.Well,need to get work done before students start class with me in half and hour.

A week later : Author POV.

For entire week,it’s tough for Jhope.He keeps thinking about Y/N and how familiar he feel around her.Y/N thinks different about it.She thinks that he didn’t like her and a bit upset.

She tried her best to work as the assistant for him but it’s hard when she has negative thoughts in her head.Jhope acts seem to affect her a lot but,the question is why?

“We’ll have our studio anniversary in 3 weeks so be ready,now dismiss.”

Jhope tell the students about the news,they all cheer up and quiet excited about the event.First of,there’ll be a theme party every year.Second of all,they’ll see Jhope perform for the ceremony.He’s the hottest and most talent teacher in students’ opinion.There’ll also be other teachers in the studio as well as the artists that he might bring as a ‘surprise’.

“Y/N,is there any class left today?”

“Uh no sir.You only have 3 classes today sir.” Jhope nod.Y/N scroll through the pc screen to check again.

“Go out with me.” All of sudden,he speaks.‘What does he means by that’ Y/N ask the question inside her head.Her eyes widen with the words he says.

“Uhh sir I think it isn-”

“No I mean hang out with me.Well you see I want to talk about the anniversary as well as the dress code and other plans we had in today’s meeting.”

Y/N POV.

‘This is akward.’ I’m now sitting in his car.His eyes focus toward the road.I look outside and the radio of the car is playing.I thought he didn’t like me but here I am in his car.

“You like red panda?” The question pop up out of the blue.

“Yeah,it’s remind me of my buddy.”

I feel sad all of sudden.I miss him and it’s been 4 years that he’s gone.I still see his smiley face when I eat the fruit in my fridge,hug my pillow to sleep like he used to hug me and walk in the park everyday.Everything still remind me of my lil buddy.

“You’re crying.I’m sorry,I shouldn’t bring that up.I just saw the photo in your phone the other day.”

“It’s fine.I really mis him.Me,him,us against the world.”

Jhope then stay in silence.I don’t know if I say something wrong.He looks puzzle but say nothing in return.We both arrive at the mall.Our schedule start from there until it reach night time.

2 weeks pass,everyone in the studio has been working hard for the anniversary day so far.Students will practice night till dawn.Sometime Jhope and teachers need to stay in the studio for a night or two.

For me,the work get overwhelm.I need to mke sure everyone get to practice,the classes’ schedules didn’t cross path.The other assistants also help me a lot with that.

What’s really weird is Jhope behaviour change.He smiles at me every day,greet me when he has a time and hang out of me more often.Some studentsd even tease me and ask whether I’m his girlfriend.

The event day finally arrive.The theme is nice.There are a lot of guests come to the event which surprisingly something I didn’t expect.I’m standing and greeting people like I’m at the studio.When the VIP guests enter,the cheer from students start to go wild.

Author POV.

“Our first performance from the house,please welcome mr.Jung.” The sound from hand claps surround the ball room.Jhope is standing there in the dark, waiting for the spot light to shine on him.

The song play and his body start working through it.He uses his body to create an art and people can’t take their eyes from him.His solo stage is so powerful and it shines.

The others go wild when another famous dancer/choreographer like Park Jimin enter the stage.Both of them combining their skills and perform such a great show.Making the students even more nervous.

The event is running on without a problem.There are a few introduction for each course before the students perform.Nothing seems to be odd and everyone enjoy the show.

“Follow me” Jhope whisper and drag Y/N along with him.She didn’t know what’s going on.They fade from the crowd and no one even notice those two.

“Here sit”

“Okay” Y/N only whisper as a reply.She didn’t know what she has done that make him upset or angry.The husky voice from him awhile ago doesn’t look like something good for her.

“I just want to tke a fresh air.I’m nervous you know,perform like that on stage.”

“But you’re great.”

“You think so?” He turns his hyper mode on which she happened to discover them after that day.

They chit chat outside the room.Y/N gets less nervous and finally can talk normally with him.He open up about his life so does she.That’s when the main point get into the convo.

“If I say I were that red panda,would you believe me?” Jhope clear his head a bit.You notice on his head there’re ears with orange-red color.You caress them gently in your hand.Feeling like the first time you touched them.

“No.....nope.” At first she is so confident but her voice fade away.The eyes that peircing toward her,searching for her soul right now were similar to her buddy. Her little buddy that she miss every day.

“It can’t be..you..Hobi?”

“I’m your hobi.I’m really your buddy.”

“How?When?” He tell everything to her.Everything out of his mouth isn’t something that should be possible but here she is.Sitting with him and believing in every word he says.

“Finally you’re here.” She cries and hugs him tight.He tighten the hug to make sure she’s relly with him.

“Sorry to interrupt but we need to take him.”

Then the guys wearing suits and all grab Jhope from her.You reach for him but no use.She try to fight with them.One of the guy in lab coat suddenly pointing a gun toward her.

“No what are you doing?”

“Going with us and she’ll be fine.You are our subject after all.”

Jhope loose his faith at the minute and go with them.Fortunately someone rescue on time.Jimin with his girlfriend come to the scene,searching for them to be back inside the event,see what’s happening.

His girlfriend didn’t hesiate to call the police.Jimin knows these people so he run and help Jhope and Y/N.The scene become a mess but no one hurt.4 of them keep everything to themselves with the police that arrive on time.

“Hyung are you alright?” Jimin ask while help him to stand up from ground.

“I’m fine.How bout your girl,she’s running here?”

“We both fine.”

Y/N get to know both of them.4 of them having a chat between each other.Jimin is really concern about what happen and decide to tell the others that you both go back early.He cover everything for you guys.

Years pass and everything fall back into there places.The incident that night is a secret betwen 4 of you.She get to know what happened before with Jhope and why Jimin also know about it.They both were subjects in lab before.Jimin got out because they thought he was dead and someone save Jhope.

You get to see his mother,the creator.She has already retired from her job and living alone in the house near the wood.Going to that place also bring both of them back to the bunker they used to live.His mother’s house was in the next town near the bunker.

“I still remember the first day that I met you.”

“And I still remember the girl that all of sudden wander into my bunker.”

“Your bunker? It’s mine.”

“No it’s mine.” They’re bickering with each other.Every moment pop up in their minds which bring the smiles on their face.It was a nice memory that they won’t forget.

“Nevermind anything mine is yours.” Jhope claim.

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re my bunkermate.” Jhope hug her tight in his arm.Warmth and love flows in the air.He sniff your scent in and kiss your neck.

“Is this a proposal?” Y/N ask.

“Maybe?”

“Then I’ll accept it.”

“Remember what you tell me?”

“It’s us against the world.” They say in unison.

“Love you my bunkermate.” Y/N kiss him and he bring her closer.

Who knows that a girl wander around places will finally end with a red fluffy ball of sunshine like him.

Aye yo ladies and gentlemen,how y’all doing.I try to finish off this series but well gaint wall has already built in my head.I’ll try harder next time.Thank you for reading and see you next story.Yeet!

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mostfacinorous · 7 years ago

Note

Loki being "trained" by Thanos, pre-invasion (LT verse) ?

No Little Talks update today, but hey, how about a sort-of AU prequel? I could do a lot more of this, but it was getting long as it was, and I’m running out of steam for this tone atm. So…. Ta daaa~

The time he spent at Thanos’s side was odd– like a single conversation, circular, undulating, interrupted but unending.

Oh, he knew he was unimportant, but with Thanos’s attention on him, he could not help but feel that he was.

And it seemed that Thanos’s attention was on him always, more omnipresent and possessive than Heimdall’s gaze, the weight of his presence heavier for the power behind it.

Loki felt like a leech, feeding from that power, attempting to absorb some of it, to grow, once more in the shadow of a greater man than himself, but this time was different, this time– Thanos liked him, pitied him– wanted to help him. And all Loki had to do was accept that help.

So he did; over and over. And again and again he found himself bound, the chair he was on floating, as much of this world did; bits and pieces of long since ruined grandeur drifting across the landscape. Ghosts of the home that Thanos had crushed in his fist. And in Loki’s mind, he could picture Asgard much the same.

The deep pit that had once been his heart now held a spark of something dark and brilliant, an ugly burning thing that held no gentleness, no love of home nor person.

And with each test, that flame was fanned a little higher.

Someday soon, he would look inward and be able to see the bottom of that void, the one within him a reflection of the one he’d fallen through to get here.

And he wasn’t certain he’d like what he would see.

And when Thanos saw, when He burrowed as deeply into Loki’s veins as possible, if He judged Loki to be unworthy…

Loki had no illusions about what would become of him then.

“Loki!” Frigga called, rushing forward, Thor by her side and Odin watching dispassionately from his place on Hlidskjalf. “My son, you’ve returned!”

He reached towards her and the pleased smile slid from her face. He’d never seen so vicious an expression there before, but he recognized it well enough; he’d worn it more than once.

“You should not have.” She informed him coolly.

And then Thor launched himself at him. He tore Loki’s arm from his socket, and Loki could feel ripples of that pain everywhere– more than he should have. He snarled and regained his feet, launching himself forward with a knife in his one hand and teeth bared, despite the blood flow.

Thor swung at him with his own arm, and he would have laughed had he been less focused on Odin, on the way his expression hadn’t wavered or changed.

Loki managed to charge up the steps of the dias, his blade out, and when Odin swung Gungnir down, Loki continued forward, impaling himself on it and approaching still, the spear emerging beside his spine and feeling like burning, like poison, the torn skin nothing next to the acid that was eating away at him now from inside. The polished round of the shaft that followed, cool and smooth, was almost a relief in its wake. But despite the noise of the hall around him– the screams of the people of Asgard, the rush of boots and armor, when Odin spoke, his soft words rang in Loki’s ears and ripped the very breath from his lungs.

“No, Loki. you’re not worthy of such a death.”

And like that, it ended. He was ripped from the dream, the world– the test. His arm was where it belonged, though he still felt the pain as if it had been real, and the hole he’d made in himself– he could feel the edges of it bleeding, though he knew if he looked, the skin would be unmarred.

“You were slow. And weak. Try again.” Thanos said, and Loki pulled at his chains, the reaction one of an animal, without a thinking mind attached, but then The Other’s hands lowered over his face and Loki screamed and then he was–

–falling.

He landed, face first, in the jungles outside of the capital of Vanaheim. He had spent many warm seasons here as a young man- knew these wilds well. Knew how unlikely he was to meet any others.

“Loki!” Thor called, and Loki winced, preparing himself for the pain of a hammer or his hands on him, preparing for a fight. But the fight did not come.

“Brother, come! Sif has tracked a boar. We dine well this night!”

Thor waved his arm and charged away, and Loki was left confused.

What was he meant to be doing? Heading to the capital? Was he meant to take Vanaheim for his Master? Was he meant to– but all of that felt like a dream now, growing more hazy the longer he stood. And when Fandral clapped him on the shoulder as he ran past, Loki immediately moved to follow him.

“If we don’t hurry, Volstagg will have eaten it all before we’ve a chance to so much as build a fire!”

Loki laughed at that, speeding along, and when he reached them he stopped, dead in his tracks.

Sif and Thor, between them, carried a strong sapling, upon which dangled, trussed, naked and bleeding, Odin Allfather.

“I did say she’d tracked a bore, did I not? And the greatest of them at that!” Thor said, laughing. Loki’s stomach flipped.

“And you mean to… eat him? Your father?”

“Our father!” Thor protested, though he sounded playful. “Do not forget who raised you to be as you are now.”

Loki’s nostrils flared as he smelled smoke, and saw the fire that Hogun had built, with Volstagg and Fandral erecting poles to support the spit with.

Odin stared, his good eye unfocused and blood dripping from his head, misshapen by Thor’s hammer. He didn’t seem to know what was happening, and even if he did… he was gagged, what Loki had originally taken for rope instead his own entrails, streaming from his stomach and wrapped around his head.

Sif looked at Loki, viciously proud and as smug as he had ever seen her.

“What, have you developed a weakness for the poor thing?” She asked, snide mockery dripping from her lips.

This was wrong, Loki realized. He’d been here before– they’d had this conversation, but about a real boar.

And now, just as then, he was too much a coward to stop them slinging the spit over the fire.

Odin’s beard caught near immediately and burned away, his panicked cries the first sound he made. A sound Loki had never heard his father make.

“Odin Borsson, you were a worthy hunt.” Thor told him seriously.

This he’d done once, to try and make the death of the creature easier on Loki. It had been his first hunt, and he knew what came next.

“Let me.” he found his tongue and stepped forward, hand outstretched for the blade. “I did not get to track him, let me slit his throat.”

This had not been part of it before, but Loki remembered now who was watching. Knew what he was meant to be doing.

Thor pressed the knife into his hand and clapped him on the shoulder, proud of his younger brother, proud to let Loki take this honor, as undeserving of it as he was. Unworthy.

Loki stood, considering Odin as he burned, an with no hesitation turned and slit Thor’s throat instead, leaving the dagger where it lay, embedded in his neck, and reversed, pulling Sif’s sword from where it hung, sheathed in the inside of her shield. With two quick motions, he brought it up and through her, twisting to free it as he pulled away an rounded to face the Warriors Three.

Hogun crouched still, and Fandral looked shocked, but Volstagg merely laughed.

“I never thought you had it in you, little prince!”

“What?” Loki asked, confused by this, too.

Volstagg gestured.

“End his misery now, and Asgard is yours. My King.” He knelt, and Loki looked back to the fire, where Odin’s skin had begun to bubble and peel, the sounds of his shrieks an cries ragged and raspy, no longer as loud. Loki didn’t know when he had ceased to hear them.

He raised his sword, drew it across Odin’s throat–

And felt as Fandral’s rapier bit into him, as Volstagg crushed his throat in his large hands until he was dead, lifeless. And even still he stared from behind his eyes, felt as he was tossed into the fire, one more log to serve as Odin’s pyre.

“Long live the King,” Hogun murmured, and as Loki’s mind writhed in the agony of the flames, he listened as the warriors three laughed and drank, speaking of nothing of consequence until the fire devoured his every sense, and he jolted back to wakefulness, again under the hands of The Other and the watchful eye of his Master.

“Too trusting. Still so weak. Come, walk with me for a time.”

Thanos gestured and his daughters sprung forward to free Loki from his bounds.

He stretched, rolled his head on his neck, and stood, unable to trust his knees to bear his weight.

Thanos seemed not to notice, or at least didn’t comment, for which Loki was grateful.

“I want to believe in you,” Thanos told him. “You have such potential, such ambition. But you have been allowed to be soft, to grow these fears that hold you back. You realize that in order to be worthy of leading, I have to undo those bad learnings, don’t you?”

He glanced back and down, where Loki struggled to keep pace with him.

“Yes, of course.” Loki answered. “I had a different purpose before, it only makes sense that I need to learn how to properly… fit. In my new place.”

Thanos nodded, smiling, and Loki smiled back, glad that he had said something right.

“Good. We will continue your training. And you will grow stronger, more sure of yourself. You will cease to hesitate, cease to be confused. You will know what to do and when to do it, and then… then I will outfit you with a weapon beyond your wildest dreams. The better version of the ridiculous mallet that brother of yours swings around. Something more powerful, more precise. Better suited to you. When you’re ready.”

Loki nodded, and didn’t ask or try to guess when that would be. They both knew he had a lot of work to do before then.

At first, it was always Asgard, his own family who he was sent to kill. Or, at least, the family that raised him.

Slowly, they branched outwards. Jotunheim. Musphelheim. One by one, each of the realms were turned into a test, over and over until he could kill regardless of who stood before him. He lost count of the number of times he watched the light fade from Thor’s eyes, or heard the last breath as it escaped from Frigga’s lips.

He did not examine too closely his tendency to reserve the cruelest of deaths for Odin; he knew where the blame for him lay. And then he grew worse; conquering without killing them, instead forcing them to watch as he twisted everything they loved and built it in his image.

Thor especially– when Loki was first sent to Midgard, he made good on every threat he’d made, fighting Thor on the bifrost, and then some.

Wicked, cruel things that he had never thought himself capable of, he did without so much as blinking.

And that was when Thanos decided to raise the stakes.

“You never truly forget where you are, do you?” He asked one day, the two of them sitting and watching his daughters spar.

Loki was glad not to have been asked to join them; the two were ruthless, his favorites always pitted against one another, since either could and would kill any of the rest.

The little blue one always lost, and the next time Loki saw her, a bit more of her was gone, replaced with stronger stuff– metal, mostly, though of a make that Loki had never seen, and grafted to bone and skin in a way that could only be painful.

She reminded him of himself, though he’d never put voice to it. Day after day, the longer he was here, the more he could feel pieces of himself being chipped away.

“I never forget whom I serve, if that’s what you mean.” Loki answered, the words smooth and easy.

“But you never fully believe yourself to be in the world we place you in, either. You remember too well. It seems too much like a game, that way– not real enough.”

Loki shivered, the pain he experienced always more than real enough, often compounding and being allowed to build upon itself for days or weeks on end.

He didn’t say that, though.

“I will take it more seriously. How can I prove myself?” He asked instead.

“Just throw yourself in. Let my creature deeper into your mind. Do not seek to hide from me; you know you cannot, anyway. Let us shape you into something better– something worthy of ruling.”

“I will.” He promised, bowing his head and resolving to give him what he wanted, whatever the price.

What Loki gave could not be taken from him, and he had learned that lesson well.

When he lashed out, no longer waiting to tell if it was a dream or a memory or a test, when he lashed out whether he was waking or resting, tied to the chair or approached by one of Thanos’s people… when he had to be chained down with stronger chains and more of them, then, finally, he was given the sceptre. It was everything Thanos had promised, and Loki could feel its power singing through him the moment his fingertips touched the Uru of its shaft. He stared into the swirling blue glow of its stone, and thought he had never seen anything so beautiful.

And what he could do with it…

He made Thor kneel to him, forced him to lead his army. He used it to make a puppet of Asgard’s king, to make him admit his wrongs and praise Loki’s worth, his abilities.

Thanos allowed this, the playacting that he did, with the same amusement as a parent watching a child with a new mount, or some new toy. He thought this was the end of it– that he was ready. That now he would be sent forth to conquer.

But then the real work began.

He conquered Vanaheim, enslaving eighty thousand minds in the process. The people cheered his name, but the celebration was cut short when his eyes were yanked open and his mind stuffed back into his body. It felt like he’d been assembled wrong, an energy buzzing through him that felt like one of Thor’s stray lightning bolts.

“Brute force is your brother’s trick. I expect you to learn elegance and precision. Lean how to topple the keystones to make everything else fall into place at your feet. Rely on the sceptre less nd on your mind more.”

He was sent to Asgard, and he bound Frigga to his side with the force of the sceptre, but somehow Odin stopped him still, and the pain of that failure stayed with him through the next ten realms he was sent to.

His mind felt like it was fracturing under the strain, and he no longer went for walks with Thanos, watched games with Thanos. No longer slept or ate or recovered.

They sent him to Musphelheim, dropped him into an endless field of flame, where he was forced to ensorcel his boots lest the melt to become part of the ground he stood on, and take his feet with them. He wandered, becoming familiar with the landscape in a way that he would never have thought possible before– perhaps this one was real?

The directions in the worlds he was sent to often worked as they did in dreams, a turn and there would be a wall before him, turn back again and it would be gone.

But things here stayed steady, and he thought… he thought for once he tasted freedom. A distance from Thanos’s control.

He didn’t explain, really, what He wanted, what He expected, but Loki know. Destroy what he had to, take what he needed. Conquer, as he must.

Loki bound a group of the largest, most brutish fire demons he could find to his side, despite the effects that had on his body, the blistering and dehydration that resulted in him heaving. But his stomach had been empty for so long now, there was nothing for it to produce.

He won, that time, somehow, and was immediately tossed into the next scenario.

He found himself on Midgard, instantly recognizable for the ugliness of his surroundings, manufactured and clean but plain. As soon as he gained his bearings, he attacked, firing at the man who presented himself as their leader.

The others began to fire at him as he attacked the foot soldiers, and he could not tell if their weapons were useless (he doubted it; Thanos made everything hurt more than it should) or if he’d perhaps finally stopped being able to feel pain (more likely, he thought.)

He took out everyone around, then caught the best of the fighters and tied him to himself with the scepter. So many bodies, so many more dead, but what did it matter? This was like every other time, and when he failed or succeeded, it would end, and the next would start.

So he took his time, tried to be smart about it, like Thanos wanted him to.

Those left standing, he bound to him, until he felt the pull of something– the tesseract– he was supposed to recover it, and any other item of power he came across.

Gifts for Thanos. Tools. He wanted them, needed them, and so Loki did too.

“Please don’t.” Loki said. “I still need that.”

And he took what He needed.

His soldiers, scepter-bound, proved instantly more helpful here than they had ever before, more capable of independent thought, and as they ran from the explosion, Loki stumbled, his eyes widening.

He’d held pain in his body, so much pain, and never had it affected his performance, his abilities. But this…

This time was different.

He clung to their transport vehicle and watched the destruction that they left in their wake.

This was real. His war had begun.

#Loki #MCU #Thanos #Little Talks fic #that writing thing I do #kinda gorey #ok so AU where...

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uta-no-knb · 7 years ago

Text

The Christmas Owl

I don’t know how the fuck it happened…but this came into my head. I….I have no words…

Disclaimer: The original song writer was John Jefferson Rox. I just came up with the different lyrics (not all of them….just some)

Here’s the link to the song (It was the closest one to the original that I could find

Team bonding. Those were the first words that came out of Bokuto’s mouth that morning, startling the slightly shorter setter.

“Ha?”

“Don’t give me that, Akaashi,” Bokuto moaned. “I said we should have a team bonding evening.”

Akaashi stared at the captain; for once, the hyper winged spiker actually mentioned something that was reasonable; Akaashi couldn’t help but shudder at the previous idea his senpai had.

~~~~~~~~~~~

(Last Weeks Practice)

Akaashi just expected a normal practice; a practice without any weird shenanigans or emotional mood swings. But sadly, Akaashi’s prayers weren’t answered.

The moment he walked through the gym doors, he stared in shock. “Bokuto-san, where did you get that?”

“It’s our new mascot Akaashi!” Bokuto exclaimed with a smile, excitedly pointing at the “mascot”.

“….Bokuto-san, we don’t need a mascot-”

“But Kuroo said he’s getting cats as his mascots for his team when we play against him. Plus, Seijo has Oikawa as their mascot.”

Akaashi was silent. There were so many things wrong with that statement. “Firstly, Oikawa isn’t the mascot of his team, that was rude,” ‘yet funny at the same time’ he thought to himself. “Secondly, I highly doubt that Kuroo-san is going to get cats, Kenma nor his coach wouldn’t approve. Thirdly, where would we keep it during the game?”

“On a bird stand, duh. We sneak him in,” he replied, going back to petting the bird, who just turned away from him with a ‘hoot’.

“….How are we supposed to sneak in a wild animal? It’ll be noticeable, plus the screaming of the crowd will startle it.”

“He has a name!!” Bokuto exclaimed. “He’s Bokuto Junior”.

“…sorry. ‘Bokuto Jr’ would be startled by the loud noise. And, owls are nocturnal, so there’s a good chance he’ll just sleep.”

“Why must you ruin everything, Akaashi!” Bokuto whined, crossing his arms with a pout.

Akaashi let out a sigh and walked towards the male and the owl; the moment he got a bit too close to the owl, he flew in the air and nestled itself in Bokuto’s hair.

He stared in disbelief. ‘We gotta get this thing out of here’ he though

“He likes me Akaashi!!!”

Great…they’ve bonded he sighed, watching his captain, his senpai, imitate the creature on his head.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“shi…Akaashi!”

“What?” the male asked, looking at his captain. “Sorry, I was thinking about something.”

Bokuto pursed his lips together. “So what do you say? Team Bonding?”

Akaashi shrugged. “Sure why not.”

After all, what could possibly go wrong?

Akaashi takes back what he said. He shouldn’t be surprised that Bokuto led him and the team to a karaoke bar.

“So we’re bonding…over Karaoke?” Washio, the teams middle blocker questioned.

“Of course!”

Everyone stared at each other and then let out a sigh. Knowing Bokuto, there were only three possible reactions.

1. If they went along with it, he’ll be happy 2. If they suggest something else, he will start to feel worse about himself 3. If they backed down, he would be very uncooperative

By communicating with their eyes, the team decided that the second and third reactions were the most annoying.

“Then..lets go inside shall we?” Sarukui said with a nervous chuckle.

“Yes!” Bokuto exclaimed. “Hey! Hey! Hey!”

“Is this really a good idea?” Komi asked, placing a hand on Akaashi’s shoulder.

“Probably not. However, I don’t want to deal with Bokuto-san’s moodiness during practice.”

The singing began, the theme being Christmas songs. So far, Bokuto has sang the most, but the other members - excluding Akaashi- sang every once in a while.

During a brief lull in the singing, the door to their booth opened, revealing a male with messy black hair. “Oya oya oya?”

“OYA OYA OYA!” Bokuto exclaimed, greeting the newcomer with a grin.

“Hello Kuroo-san.”

“Yo,” the teen replied, plopping himself down right next to Akaashi. “So we’re singing Christmas songs I hear?”

“Bokuto-san is up next,” Akaashi sighed, “I’ve lost count as to how many times he’s sang.”

“Alright!” Bokuto started, grabbing the microphone and scrolling through the song list, grinning at the song that he chose. “This song is apparently an American classic, but I’m putting my own twist on it.” He turned his golden gaze to Akaashi. “Akaashi! This song is for you!”

Everyone stared at each other, knowing that this couldn’t be good.

The music started, the trombone playing staccato notes and Bokuto took a breath

🎶 All I want is a horned owl for christmas Only a horned owl friend will do Don’t want a doll, not even a volleyball I want my own horned owl to play with and enjoy🎶

The other males in the room stared in shock at the song choice. Akaashi groaned, realizing that this was in regards to the owl incident that happened last week. If he recalled correctly, the song was about hippos…

🎶 All I want is a horned owl for christmas I don’t Santa Claus will mind, do you? He won’t have to use, a dirty chimney flue Just let him fly through the window That’s the easy thing to do

I can see me now on Christmas morning Creeping down the stairs Oh what joy, what surprise When I open up my eyes To see my own horned owl standing there

All I want is a horned owl for christmas Only a horned owl friend will do No crocodiles, no hippopotamuses I only like the majestic horned owl And the horned owl likes me too! 🎶

There was an instrumental interlude with what sounded like brass instruments before he started singing again. Akaashi already knew that he hated this song.

🎶 Akaashi says the owl, will peck out my eyes but Kuroo says the horned owl is a vegetarian 🎶

Akaashi bristled at this part of the verse (Kuroo on the other hand was laughing). First of all, he had never said those words at all. Secondly, the horned owl is a predator; meaning that it’s diet consisted of animals.

🎶 There’s lots of room for him In the Fukurodani Gym I’d feed him there and wash him there And give him a massage 🎶

….The coach would have a fit if that were to happen….and honestly, no one would hear the end of his scolding (”Who the hell let Bokuto bring an owl in here”)

🎶 I can see me now on Christmas morning Creeping down the stairs Oh what joy, what surprise When I open up my eyes To see my own horned owl standing there

All I want is a horned owl for christmas Only a horned owl friend will do No crocodiles, no hippopotamuses I only like the majestic horned owl And the great horned owl likes me too!🎶

The song finally ended and Bokuto dropped the mic.

The only person who clapped was Kuroo; everyone else stared at the male.

“Well!? What did you think?!” he asked excitedly.

With a sigh, Akaashi spoke. “It was….a nice song…very creative,” he started, his eye twitching as he saw the excitement gleam in Bokuto’s eyes. “But the answer is no. We’re not getting an owl for our game against Nekoma.”

“Bu..But Akaashi..Kuroo is getting cats-”

“Just because we don’t have a mascot, doesn’t mean our team isn’t good. There are a lot of teams that don’t have mascots,” he added, watching as Kuroo grinned. “We’re strong without a mascot cheering us on. All we need is the support and strength of each other.”

Instantly, Bokuto’s mood changed. “You’re right Akaashi,” he said. “Who’s next?! Onaga! Go!”

“Whaaa?”

Akaashi was relieved that the pestering of getting an owl will stop-at least he hopes it will. He’s positive it will come up again, but he’s content with leaving the “what if” alone.

As Bokuto was pressuring the first year middle blocker, Akaashi turned and faced Kuroo. “Your coach said no to the cats, didn’t he.”

The grin that was once on Kuroo’s face disappeared. “Yea,” he pouted as he turned away

…..I don’t know why this happened……but I can honestly see Bokuto doing something like this…also here’s a picture that maybe had something to do with it??

Anyway, lemme know what you guys think!!!

Happy Holidays everyone!!

#haikyuu!#Bokuto Koutarou #akaashi keiji #song-fic #i want a hippopotomus for christmas #i probably spelled that wrong #merry christmas

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dailyaudiobible · 7 years ago

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11/10/2017 DAB Transcript

Ezekiel 21:1-22:31; Hebrews 10:1-17; Psalms 108:1-13; Proverbs 27:12

Today is the 10th day of November. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I’m Brian. It's great to be here with you today. And both of those things are totally true. I am Brian and it is great to be here with you today as we take the next step forward in the adventure that we’re on through the Bible this year. And our journey leads us back into the book of Ezekiel and back into the book of Hebrews when we get to the New Testament. So, first, Ezekiel chapter 21 verse 1 through 22 verse 31. We’re reading from the New Living translation this week.

Commentary:

Okay. In the book of Hebrews today, things continue to unfold and blossom like a flower before us as the greater context materializes, the greater story emerges. It's been emerging all along, but it's like we’re at this vista now. And it's disruptive because it's a true paradigm shift and we’ve been talking about it all along, but it's explicit. The old system under the law of Moses was only a shadow, a dim preview of the good things to come, not the good things themselves. The sacrifices under that system were repeated again and again, year after year, but they were never able to provide perfect cleansing for those who came to worship. On the other hand, Jesus came and His one sacrifice is for all time and sacrificial offerings are no longer required. We kind of talked about how this is like a paradigm shift. So, kind of, controversial and troubling on the one hand, but if it were true, what an utter relief it would be. And we talked about this yesterday. And today we see this is explicitly what's being said. So, you have to imagine how Hebrew people, who had the Mosaic law baked into their culture, who were trying to live right in devout, would have difficulty embracing this because their whole lives have been taught a different way. And now they kind of to open up their eyes and wake up to something new that God is doing in the world and realize that their the first ones in. So, it’s not like this group mentality, where something is, over time, been brought into culture like we experience now in our faith. They’re, like, the first ones. So, this is a big step of faith forward. So, like, if someone came along and started saying, okay, all of you Gentile believers, you now need to practice animal sacrifice. God is doing a new thing and we’re going back to the old way. But it's a new thing and you need to offer these sacrifices. Right? It would be hard for us to get our minds around in the same way that would be difficult for them to make that step forward, even though, even though this was supposed to happen, even though there was precedent for this new thing to come. All kinds of new things are coming down the pipe, just like they are now. And, so, we can see the tension in this that we don't normally see without context because this is just a doctrinal statement about our faith. Like, we understand these things, that like, that Jesus was the sacrifice once and for all. His blood covers all sins for all time. We no longer need to sacrifice. Like, that's the normal way of thinking. But if it weren't. Right? We’d have to take some time to be able to move in that direction prayerfully. And yet, the writer of Hebrews is skilled enough to continually look back into the sacred Hebrew Scriptures. So, when we were talking about Melchizedek, we were talking about Psalm 110, but all throughout there's these references back to prophetic utterances that are revealing that this is what's happening and it's happening right now. So, Psalm 40 is quoted today as a prophetic utterance supporting what they're saying. Jeremiah chapter 31 is quoted today as a prophetic utterance to show - this is what's happening. And for we, who are so far removed from this time, like, we can get the book of Romans and we get the book of Hebrews together and read them and go like, there, there’s the complete doctrine of the Christian faith. But what's really going on historically is that Paul is out moving among the Gentiles, the gospel is spreading like wildfire among the Gentiles, the Jewish people, Hebrew people, are having a much more difficult time embracing this, and for the most part they're not embracing this, but this letter to the Hebrews is intended to be circulated, and wrestled with, and talked about among those people. This is the document to those people to explain all of this in a very Hebrew centric context. So, it's not just a book of theological understandings and doctrines. It's a very missional letter, offering language to explain the good news to a people who had rejected Jesus at face value, but because of all that came afterward were considering. So, we have the book of Hebrews as the basis for so much Christian doctrine, but the story that kind of lingers here, behind the story, is the tension that arises when God begins to do a new thing. So, if we go back to the time when the book of Hebrews was written, God is doing a new thing and the writer of Hebrews is using the Scriptures to show how that works. And in the process, it's setting aside old things. In this case, the whole sacrificial system. But God does new things when He chooses to do new things. And we see the ways in which we struggle to move forward as God does new things inside of us or around us or among us. And we’ll start telling each other our doctrine stories to explain away what God might be doing when it starts to mess with a little tidy box of theology. And all the sudden we become just like the Hebrew people that this was written to. And, so there's attention in a disruption exposed there behind the story. So, ultimately, we have to learn to hold onto our theology and doctrine loosely and hold onto the Father and the guidance of his Holy Spirit tightly when believe God is beginning to do a new thing. And that is our prayer.

Prayer:

Father, like our brothers and sisters of old, we struggle. We try to put You in a box. We try to explain You in every way that we can. We try to make doctrine around it and these are our best efforts from finite minds and hearts to explain the infinite and Almighty. And yet, it is this infinite and Almighty Spirit that is within us, the same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead. And, so, we live within that tension and that mystery. And often we’ll hang on to what we think that we know more tightly than we’ll hold onto You and we’ll trust what we think we know more than will trust You. And the same invitation given to the Hebrew people in the book of Hebrews at that time is still given to us - the opportunity to be in a personal, first-hand, first person relationship with You. And, so, what can we do but what we do most every day? Invite You. Come Holy Spirit. Well up within us. Spill out from us. Illuminate our path. Lead us into all truth. It is not information about You that we seek. It is to You, Your heart, Your essence, that we seek. And You have sought out the same thing in us from the moment of our birth – union, collaboration, relationship. So, come Holy Spirit. We pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website. It’s home base. It’s where you find out what's going on around here. And there has been a lot going on around here lately.

So, let's talk about an update, a date, and a new resource announcement.

First, the update on the Global Campfire Initiative. So, almost a week ago now, we deployed the first beta version of the new app to 500 people that were part of the Global Campfire Initiative. And that feedback has been invaluable. Throwing this out into the wild, even a limited wild, out into the world of multiple phones and platforms has been really helpful. So, those of you who are participating have helped us identify a couple of really key things and those are being worked on as we speak. And we’ll be pushing out an update, but you’ll be getting an email, but we’ll be pushing out an update as soon as we can, fairly shortly. And our goal is to kind of get this into the wide open world so everybody, anybody, can listen by mid-December. So, thank you, everyone, everyone. Thank you for your prayers as we keep taking steps forward and moving toward this.

And then the date, the date is November 19th. And it will be the last travel date for us for the year as we move around the country and speak the Sneezing Jesus message. We’ll be in Louisiana, in the Shreveport area, Bossier City, at River Valley church and that will be Sunday the 19th of November. So, you can get all the details at dailyaudiobible.com. And if you're in the area, love nothing more than to see your face and hug your neck. And, so, come, say hello.

And then the resource announcement [clapping and rubbing hands], that's me clapping my hands and rubbing them together because I’m excited about this. So, several years ago, I mean we’ve been doing coffee, our own Windfarm coffee, for many, many years. And several years ago, I was on a quest to find the best possible thing I could find to drink my coffee out of and I ended up finding it in Oregon at a local coffee roaster. And, so, I bought this tumbler, kind of mug thermosee thing. Abd I wasn't sure, it was kind of expensive, I wasn't sure, but I bought it and then it became a favorite thing because it would keep my coffee, like I could pour a cup coffee early in the morning and still have hot coffee at lunchtime. And so, I looked at the brand. The brand was Clean Canteen. And I was like, oh, I know this brand, like, I see this brand around. And just started wondering, can we do this? And, so, a couple years ago, called Clean Canteen and yup, we could do this, and we made our first batch of Clean Canteen's and offered them and they were gone in like two days. But because they’re kind of expensive to get and we don’t hold onto inventory like that, we didn't have them again for a while. And then we got them again later in the year and then they were gone in two days. So, we get them a couple of times a year. And that's the point. And, so, we got them earlier this year and they were gone, like usual. And now we’re getting to the end of the year and we have them back, but, but these are a little different. We've created a special edition. So, in the past, we've used the silver, the food grade stainless steel that these are made out of, they are double-walled and insulated. So, we've always kept that stainless look with the Daily Audio Bible logo imprinted on the side. This special edition Clean Canteen is a beautiful deep red color. Roasted pepper is the name of the color, which is one of the primary colors that we use a Daily Audio Bible. So, it’s this roasted pepper color with the Daily Audio Bible logo in white. And it's a gorgeous. I’m literally looking at it right now. Like, I always have my coffee to my left every time I’m doing the Daily Audio Bible and I’ve been drinking out of this new one and I love it. It’s got their 2.0 version of their café lid so that it’s much more spill proof than in the past and it just works. It is the it's best thing I found to drink out of. It will keep your coffee hot for like six hours. It'll keep your, like, your iced tea cold for like 24 hours. I’ve actually tested that. I put ice water in mine before and come back a day later, 24 hours later and there was still ice in it. So, anyway, we have these. They are in stock on the Daily Audio Bible shop. This is a special edition and when they're gone they're gone. And we won’t be getting anymore Clean Canteens until next year. So, those of you who been writing in and saying when are you going to have them, I want to get some for gifts for Christmas, this your chance. And those of you who have just been waiting for them to be back in stock for yourself, they are in stock right now but they won't last but a couple of days. So, you can check them out and see what they look like at dailyaudiobible.com in the shop.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com. There's a link, it's on the homepage. If you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill, TN 37174.

And as always, if you have a prayer request or comment 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayers and Praise Reports

Hi this is Elaine from Victoria. I love you so much Daily Audio Bible. And God is so faithful. First of all, I want to thank God for all my Christian brothers and sisters that are with the Daily Audio Bible. And this is what really caught me at church yesterday. In my distress, I called to the Lord and he answered me. This is from Jonah 2:2. And he did answer. He gave me Ephesians 6, putting on the full armor of God. He stands when the enemy attacks. And Ephesians 6:10, be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power put on the full armor of God so that you can take a stand against the devil’s schemes. So, Daily Audio Bible Family, we are covered. We are covered by the blood of the Lamb. God bless you, all of you. I love you. I thank you for your prayers. Thank you, Brian for your love of family, God’s family. And Praise You Jesus for this. In Jesus precious and Holy name, cover all my Daily Audio Bible family. Amen.

Hi this is Tony and I am calling because today is my one year anniversary and I didn’t know exactly when it was until I heard the reading today, November 6th. Basically, Ezekiel 16. And it resonates with me so much. And that is because I feel that I am attacked a lot. And those of you who are walking closely with the Lord know. And when we are walking with Him and trying to, you know, be that light, we are going to encounter a counter force, a negative counterforce. So…that’s…I know what this is about. And, so, I know also too, when we do it well then we will also find joy amidst the suffering. So, I just say that just to encourage people on. I just wanted to call…today is my anniversary. The other thing is, I think I have a name, and it’s Facilitator. I think I’m a facilitator for the Lord for health, primarily in mind, body, and soul. The other thing is, I'm praying for people, but I wanted to call out Rayna in California with fibromyalgia. There is hope. And I’m going to tell you’ve got health. You may email me if you wish at [email protected]…and I can give you…but there is hope. I know people whose pain has gone away. So, God bless everyone. And Brian, we will be supporting you with…growing that 2% number…and supporting the enterprise…the global enterprise. Bye-bye.

When the Jews went into exile someone left the tended lamb They mingled with the Canaanites and that went against God’s plan The other Jews looked down on them and despised them very much They even called them filthy dogs who were unworthy of Your touch These people were called Samaritans, they were ostracized and kept away In much the way the Ku Klux Klan treats all nonwhites today Can you imagine telling the grand dragon of the Ku Klux Klan the parable about the good black man things would quickly deteriorate, you’d have a situation out of hand But Jesus is the master and when He tells it, it gets told Even in the things you don’t want to hear would be worth their weight in gold There’s the legal and the illegal There’s honor and there are thieves Some are Godly and are moral but a true minister believes what’s thine is mine and what’s mine is thine In Jesus’ parable both are clearly there But people in His ministry should always make time to care Robbers by the wayside Robbers in the church Begging in the name of God Like vultures on a perch Caveat emptor let the buyer be ware The IRS and con men too Thieves are everywhere Fleeced like sheep and tossed about, Gods people need to know That the ones you think who will help you most are the first to tell you no Pious and self-righteous, too good to soil their hands But once they’ve seen light from the ditch they’ll clearly see God’s plans We need to be good neighbors and help those who are in need Freely giving of ourselves, true ministers in deed And not be so caught up in our own rituals that our lives contain no power To bind the wounds of those in need which should be our finest hour Jesus loves all the same He plainly made that true His life He gave as a sacrifice A pattern for me and you

Hello my DAB family this is Mark S. from Sydney Australia. Today’s Tuesday the 7th of November and I’m calling in for a praise report and prayer request. The praise report is that this family is so wonderful. There’s quite a few members in Sydney…if there’s more members in Sydney…and Chris in the background had organized myself and Ruby get together, which we got together a few weeks ago and we were able to talk about the DAB and talk about the Christian life. And the other prayer request I was going to put in was, Ruby’s been sick. She’s been in the hospital. And she’s come out. She’s still in pain. So, family if you could kindly pray for her that she fully recovers. And she did give me permission to talk to other DAB people about it. And can you also pray, she’s a wonderful Christian lady, and pray that she can find a lovely Christian man for herself. She’s a young, lovely, Christian lady and she’s trying to find the right Christian man. So, let’s keep praying for her for recovery and for her to find a love partner with God. Alright. Thank you. Bye-bye. Love Mark S. from Sydney Australia. Bye.

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ryukoishida · 8 years ago

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OtaYuri Week | Day 1: First Time | In which figure skaters become mobile suit pilots in this self-indulgent Gundam AU.

Written for @otayuriweek

Title: Touch of the Martian Sun Day/Prompt: Day 1 – First Time Author: ryukoishida Summary: Yuri Plisetsky may have the eyes of a soldier, but even the bravest warrior and one of the most formidable Mobile Suit pilots in Korishiro Corps can break at the seams when he reaches his limit. [Gundam (Iron-Blooded Orphans ‘Verse) AU] Rating: T Warning: Mention of past physical and emotional abuse A/N: That Gundam AU that literally nobody asked for. Also includes some Mila/Sara because I couldn’t resist. This is one of the most self-indulgent things I’ve ever written, probably. You don’t need to know anything about the Gundam ‘verse except it’s kids piloting giant fighting robots.

“Yuri, what the hell are you doing?”

His captain’s voice is grainy through the intercom, but his hands – slender, graceful, scarred with old and recent wounds – continue to move like a fluttering dance, pushing buttons and pulling levers.

Every movement delicate and precise. Deadly.

Connected through the Alaya-Vijnana System embedded into his spine, his mobile suit, a customized version of Rhyannon – towering at over 18 meters tall and made of nano laminate armour painted with contrasting shades of ink black and cardinal red – propels itself across the field in smooth, effective arcs as if it’s an extension of his own body.

A red warning sign flashes hastily in the left corner of his monitor: one of his short-barrel cannons mounted on his shoulder has been severely damaged during the last scuffle with a particularly insistent Reginlaze. He still has plenty of armament though – sufficient to at least administer significant destruction against those who are foolish enough to engage him in a one-on-one fight.

His sea-green gaze is piercing, darting left and right in quick succession to try and see through the thick sheen of red dust swirling a wild waltz that refuses to settle as multiple mobile suits drift and cross paths in such speed only the sun catches glimpses of their shapes in specks of reflected light against metal.

In the back of his mind, Yuri can faintly make out the other man’s voice but his focus has been splashed bright red with fresh blood and the endless fury brought on by the memory of those animals in human disguise, their voices and words and agony inflicted by them that still rips him away from peaceful slumber, causing him to wake up drenched in cold sweat and lingering fear.

“I’m not letting those bastards get away this time,” Yuri grits out, fingers drumming irritably on the control grips as he searches for the ragged shapes of the enemy troop’s Reginlazes and Hugos.

As big and bulky as these machines are, in this thick curtain of dust, they are impossible to detect with the naked eye.

Yuri waits, the coldness in his eyes unforgiving. He’s waited for this chance for almost a year since the day Yuuri Katsuki found him among the wreckage of what used to be one of Afanasiy’s largest ships; a few minutes’ time means nothing to him right now.

“Yuri Plisetsky, fall back, right now.” Otabek Altin’s usually quiet and collected voice is clipped with impatience and tinged with a hint of panic as he watches the elegant lines of his friend’s mobile suit glinting faintly in the distant sunlight.

“You weren’t there, Otabek,” the statement isn’t meant to be in any way accusative, but the deep-seated vehemence breaks open the surface of his whisper, a chilling tone that makes even one of the best pilots in Korishiro Corps shudder. “You have no idea what they’ve done to me – to the others.”

Guang Hong Ji – a shy, sensitive boy of Chinese descent who was so frail when he was first captured by Afanasiy that Yuri thought he wasn’t going to make it through the Alaya-Vijnana implanting operation.

Leo de la Iglesia – a dark-skinned boy from the Americas with eyes full of hope and determination that gradually diminished as he became numb to the physical pain and battle scars, and the emotional agony of losing comrades who fought alongside him.

Mila Babicheva – a feisty red-head from what used to be Russia who rebelled against her captors until she became quieter and more withdrawn as bruises and lashes bloomed all over her body like a field of violets.

And those are just the ones who survived long enough – lucky enough, perhaps – for them to be rescued by the crew of Korishiro when the wall that had been constructed to confine them and iron chains thick and heavy around their necks were tear apart by Yuuri Katsuki and his Gundam Saleos.

Of course, back then, they had no idea of the influence and power, as well as the danger that comes along with it, that having a Gundam frame on their side would entail.

Otabek’s voice filters through the stark images of his mind, tainted with rusted blood and bitter fury.

“Remember what Mr. Nikiforov said! Retrieve and secure the Gundam frame, and––”

Yuri can’t hear Otabek’s next words.

He breathes out, limp, blond locks fluttering and sticking to his sweat-stained cheek. His fingers grip the controls reflexively the moment Rhyannon’s sensors signal two mobile suits heading his way from opposite directions.

From the midst of the dust storm, two mobile suits armoured in teal and grey, with Afanasiy’s insignia of a red and yellow phoenix branded on their shoulders, emerge at full speed like some crazed ghouls seeking blood and violence.

Yuri will give it to them: bruised skin, broken bones, severed limbs, and pain beyond comprehension.

He pulls out his railguns and shoot at both units without hesitation, aiming directly for where the cockpits would be located on the robotic suits.

The one to his left explodes immediately, scattering fireworks of spitting flames and raining shrapnel.

His eyes flash towards the remaining Reginlaze, now less than five meters away with its blade brandished and ready. Yuri grins, the expression horrifyingly sharp and callous, and he shifts his control grip to face the oncoming attack as he unsheathes his own smaller assault knives.

Without any warning, Yuri throws one of the knives towards the Reginlaze, and the blade lodges itself into the crook of the mobile suit’s right shoulder, successfully disabling its sword-wielding arm. The young pilot wastes no time to get closer after one well-aimed kick lands his opponent flat and hissing smoke on the ground, Rhyannon’s other knife raised in an angle perfect for stabbing right through the cockpit of the other mobile weapon.

Blood roars in Yuri’s ears, and exhilaration rushes through his body like a living beast, making his eyes unnaturally bright and his lips twisted into a grin.

That’s when a shadow descends from above. Silent and unexpected as death.

Rhyannon alerts him much too late, the echo of the urgent beeping in his cockpit enshrouding his other senses.

“Yuri––!”

He can barely make out Otabek’s voice – he can always hear Otabek amongst the chaos. It’s a deep, rumbling river that always gives him a sense of calm when he fears the dark, uncontrollable storm of his emotions threatening to drag him past that threshold between sanity and madness.

It’s a thin line that Yuri has been straddling for these past long months.

The solid weight of the other mobile suit crushes him from the top, and the deafening collision – like a prolonged clap of thunder invoked by the angry gods – rings in his ears long after the impact.

A hit from a mace from the side sends him sprawling on the ground, and then the Hugo that’s been attacking him is stepping on him to ensure he’s not going anywhere. Metal groans and creaks around Yuri from the pressure, the monitor screens cracking and blacking out, and the safety belts strapped across his bare chest is cutting into his skin and pressing sharply against bones.

Black oils leak through breakages, and glittering sparks and small flames sputter from Rhyannon’s broken circuits as the Hugo savagely punches into Yuri’s battered mobile suit.

The last thing he remembers is Otabek yelling into the intercom, “Yuri! Stay with me, damn it! Mr. Katsuki, we need to––”

‘I don’t need to be saved,’ Yuri thinks, fingers slipping off from the control panel.

He’s strong enough.

A rivulet of red drips into his eyes, sticky and warm, but he feels no pain, just a strange white noise buzzing in his ears.

He opens his mouth, prepared to protest but instead of words, he coughs out blood that tasted coppery sweet on his tongue.

It’s familiar and comforting, and Yuri thinks that’s the scariest part of all.

The rising sun on Mars is dazzling – disorienting, almost.

“Shouldn’t you still be resting in bed?”

Otabek settles beside him, two cans of chocolate-flavored protein drink in his hand, and he offers one to the other man.

“I got bored,” Yuri takes it with a nod of thanks, but he doesn’t drink it, just rolls the can between his hands.

Loose strands of his hair that have escaped the half-ponytail tied messily behind his head flutter in the breeze and fall into his eyes. Yuri makes no movement to fix it.

“That’s what I figured,” Otabek chuckles, the sound low and smoky. He takes a swig out of his own can, wincing when the saccharine taste of the artificial flavor hits his palette.

“How’s your fractured ribs?”

It’s small talk, but that’s fine by both of them. The morning is quiet, the Korishiro base a peaceful sanctuary without its usual fanfare during the day.

“Fine,” he replies, lips twitching, “still hurts like a bitch, but I’m alive, so that’s always a plus.”

His gaze is focused on the horizon, the roseate light of dawn making his pale blond hair gleam. There’s no humor in that bitter smile.

“About that, Yuri…” Otabek starts, but hesitates to continue. Indecision has never been a trait of the 19-year-old, who has become one of Korishiro’s youngest and most capable mobile suit pilot, and dependable leader of the Human Debris (though they don’t use that term anymore since the rebellion) – those who were orphaned at a young age and sold cheaply as child soldiers through various means.

“Am I grounded from piloting Rhyannon?”

“What?” Otabek turns towards him with a confused frown. “What would make you assume that?”

“Mila told me. You had a long talk with Nikiforov the day after we came back…” Yuri places the beverage down beside him, and he turns to face Otabek, teeth worrying his lower lip. “She said neither you nor Katsuki would talk about the meeting though, so it must have been something serious. Was it about me?”

“Mr. Nikiforov was concerned about you,” Otabek treads carefully, knowing full well that Viktor Nikiforov, founder of Korishiro Corps who’s known for his impertinent but oddly genuine nature, is not Yuri’s favourite person.

Yuri scoffs in a sharp exhale but keeps his mouth shut.

“Mr. Katsuki and I as well,” Otabek’s tone turns softer, dark gaze lowering to stare at the half-empty can in his hands. “What you did back there was reckless; you could have gotten yourself killed––”

“We completed the mission, didn’t we? That’s the most important part, isn’t it?” Yuri snaps, the frustration in his voice churning and the fire in his eyes barely contained. He lowers his torso into a defensive pose, but the sudden movement jostles his wound, and he hisses in pain while bracing a protective arm around his abdomen.

Otabek begins to reach for him, but when he sees Yuri curls further away, wordlessly refraining from being touched, the other man relents and heaves a soft sigh.

“Not if it means having one of our own injured,” he tries to reason. “We could have retrieved the Gundam frame without engaging the enemy, but you…” Otabek sends him a wary glance then, “don’t try to deny it, Yuri, but you wanted to fight them, didn’t you?”

“So what if I did?” No hesitation or a hint of repentance at all. “If you’d experienced what I had – what Mila and Leo and Guang Hong had – you’d do the same.”

“I’d seen what they did to you and the others; I was there,” Otabek reminds him, and the image of when they first found the four youngsters in the rubble of the ruined ship was still painfully fresh in his mind: the bruised, battle-hardened bodies had been beaten – worst, they had been abused by adults who had exploited them for their own gains. He swallows hard and continues, “and I’m not about to tell you to be a saint and forgive those bastards, but letting the hate and anger control you like that – that’s dangerous.”

Otabek doesn’t want to say more – doesn’t want to belittle Yuri’s emotions or trespass into a territory he has no right to be in.

“You figure I don’t know that?” Yuri bites out after a shaky breath, gaze downcast. “Why’d you think I offered to go solo in the first place?”

He’s not responsible for anyone else’s lives but his own; he’s always lived by that rule. That’s how he survives. That’s all he knows how.

“Because Viktor can see right through you,” Otabek says, and he drains the last of the beverage before continuing, “because he knows, with that temper of yours, you’ll end up injured – or dead – if you’d gone on your own.”

He’s not wrong – Viktor does care, even if he has an annoying and strange way of expressing it – and Yuri hates that even more.

“You needed someone there to tell you to stop, and I guess that was why Mr. Katsuki and I were chosen for this mission as well.”

“If he’s so worried, then why’d he let me go anyway?”

“You’re one of the best pilots we have, and Mr. Nikiforov acknowledges that and trusts that you will deliver in the end,” Otabek says with a faint smile, a quiet sense of pride in the curve of his lips.

The older pilot turns to him once more, eyes searching calmly until Yuuri glances up to meet his gaze.

Something in Yuri’s eyes waver – the desire to believe in Otabek’s words, the wish to let go of the past.

“The thing about working in a team is that you have to trust others: you have your family’s backs, and they have yours,” he leans towards Yuri, and when he senses that the blond has no intention to back away, Otabek lifts his hand and carefully brushes Yuri’s bangs out of the way, winding the strands behind the curve of his ear before cradling his jaw.

At this range, Otabek can count the lashes framing Yuri’s sea-green eyes, perplexed and curious by their proximity.

Otabek needs him to understand this. “Yuri, you’re not in Afanasiy anymore; you don’t have to fight by yourself.”

Maybe that’s the issue, Yuri doesn’t voice out his thoughts, just quietly mulling over Otabek’s words, the warmth of the other man’s fingertips a slight but pleasant distraction.

It’s difficult for him to place his trust in others.

He’s never seen that as a problem before – never really considered it – but Otabek has saved him time and time again since he’s been accepted as part of the Korishiro family, and Yuuri – sweet, meddling, quiet-spoken Yuuri who’s like an elder brother to the younger members in Korishiro – can be fierce and frightening when his family’s lives are endangered. The trail of wreckages of those who had threatened Korishiro left behind by Saleos should be proof of that.

Yuri feels the soft caress of Otabek’s thumb across his cheek, the gesture simple yet filled to the brim with something he can’t quite name, only that it causes his face to heat up and his blood to thrum a melody not unlike the adrenaline before a battle.

But this strange pull in his body is unlike any sensation Yuri has ever felt, and he finds himself grasping the sleeves of Otabek’s jacket, knuckles tensed and wide eyes unable to look away from the other man.

“Yuri…?”

Wetness stings his eyes, and he can’t comprehend what’s happening at first. He tries to blink it away, but it only serves to blur his vision more: hot tears rolling down his cheeks and breaths shuddering to catch up.

Yuri can’t remember the last time he cried. Maybe it was when he said goodbye to his grandpa back at the spaceport on Earth six years ago?

He had cried only once while he was imprisoned by Afanasiy after an especially grueling training session, which had involved lots of mobile suit simulation and even more beatings afterwards during physical drills. Later, he had sobbed into the dirty sheets on his narrow bunk bed while the other children feigned ignorance. He’d thought about his grandfather, still living and relatively safe on Earth thanks to the remaining savings he’d sent not too long ago.

That was when he made a promise to himself.

Otabek is the first person to see him shed tears like this since then – defenseless, all choked sobs and ugly crying that Yuri is unable to stop – and he thinks he should be afraid, ashamed, but when Otabek wordlessly wraps his arms around him, being extra careful not to bump against his wounds, Yuri can only feel thankful as a sense of relief flows through him like a serene current.

He lets go, bit by bit.

There’ll always be a small part of him clinging to the past – not because of fond reminiscence but because that imperfect fragment is one of the pieces that makes him who he is. Yet once he accepts that and moves on, Yuri figures that life on Mars, with those whom he calls brothers and sisters, is going to be better than he’s ever hoped for.

“Yuri, what’s the matter? Did I hurt you? Should I––?” Otabek starts to pull himself away, unsure of what to do.

“Don’t you dare,” Yuri sniffs, pulling him closer, or as close as it’s possible for his injuries to not protest too much.

Otabek’s eyes soften into a warmer russet, and he stays there, palm on the back of Yuri’s neck, as they wait for the younger man to calm down. Violent shaking eventually turns to slight tremors, and then he’s still as a statue.

“Better?”

Yuri nods into his shoulder.

“Woah woah, are we interrupting a moment here? Please excuse us!”

A cheerful melodious voice bursts through their reverie, and the speaker, a young woman with short, burgundy curls and bright green eyes, is currently draping herself all over another female with tanned skin and long dark hair bunched up messily into a ponytail as if the definition of “personal space” doesn’t exist in her dictionary.

The other woman doesn’t seem to mind much, though she does send her companion a meaningful glare.

Her exasperated “Mila, don’t be rude!” is said at the same time as Yuri’s nonchalant “Mila, fuck off.”

Yuri leans away from Otabek, cheeks rosy and streaked with drying tear marks that he tries to rub away with the sleeve of his too-big jacket.

“Sara, Yuri’s being mean to me again!” Mila Babacheva clings closer to her friend, who can only tug her along as she smiles apologetically at the two men.

“Come on, you little monster, didn’t you say you want to see the upgraded armament for your Stagioni?” Sara Crispino laughs and takes Mila’s hand in hers. Neither seems to be bothered by the gesture, and Yuri and Otabek share a knowing glance.

“Heading to the hanger?” Otabek asks as he gets on his feet.

“Yeah,” Sara nods, “you and Yuri should come, too. Yuuko’s purchased some new parts and she’s been itching to do some upgrades on Ulises.”

“I hope she hasn’t done anything to it yet,” Otabek looks uncharacteristically startled and even a bit distressed at the mention of upgrades and the name of his mobile suit in the same sentence.

Mila and Sara burst into simultaneous laughter, and even Yuri can’t help the small grin on his face as they recall the failure of one particular upgrade a few months ago.

“Never forget the hip canons,” Sara giggles.

Needless to say, putting short barrel canons on a lightweight class mobile suit’s waist has not been one of Yuuko’s brightest ideas.

As the four of them make their way to the hanger, Yuri asks, “How bad is Rhyannon’s condition?”

Sara glances over at the young pilot before setting her eyes forward again, ��Yuuko was mad when they hauled it in.”

Yuri gulps nervously.

Yuuko never gets mad. She’s usually easy-going and greets everyone with a friendly smile; her only fanatic obsession is taking apart and putting together the mechanical parts of mobile suits. If Yuuko had been mad, Yuri figures he must have fucked up quite royally.

“That bad, huh?” he only says, throat dry, though his facial expression remains impassive.

“She said her team will need at least another week with it before it’s fully repaired,” Sara adds, and she watches with amusement as Yuri’s face turns another shade paler.

“Oh, hell,” Yuri mutters, stalling midway, “maybe I should, uh, wait until Yuuko’s done with the repairs before I see her. I’m sure she doesn’t want to be bothered when she’s clearly busy.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Otabek blocks his way before Yuri can think about turning back. “You have to help me convince Yuuko to stay away from adding anything ridiculous on Ulises. We have another assignment next week and I don’t want a repeat of the hip cannons.”

The women snicker behind him, but Otabek looks serious, imploring Yuri with his earnest eyes.

Staring at Otabek’s openly honest expression – rarely seen on the usually stoic pilot – Yuri hides the trace of a smile threatening to show on his lips by turning his head slightly away, murmuring, “Fine. Just this once – as thanks for saving my ass. Again.”

“Aww, this is great, isn’t it, Sara? Look at them!”

“Yes, yes,” Sara ruffles the other woman’s hair affectionately, “now let’s get going before Yuuko decides to upgrade everyone’s mobile suits.”

Their pace significantly quickens after that.

Explanation Time! Definitions (within Iron-Blooded Orphans Universe):

- Gundam frames: A series of 72 mobile suit frames that were produced and developed by Gjallarhorn (an international peacekeeping force) during the Calamity War 300 years ago; the Ahab particles generated by the two Ahab Reactors within each suit give it a lot of powers, which can be burdensome on the pilot’s body since man and suit are connected through the Alaya-Vijnana system.

- Alaya-Vijnana system: A man-machine interface implant that improves a pilot’s spatial skills and reactions while piloting a mobile suit. The surgery to get the implants is risky and many have died during the process.

- Mobile suits: A type of mobile weapon that is a humanoid combat vehicle. I.E. Giant robots that people can pilot even in space.

#otayuri week #otayuri #otabek altin #yuri plisetsky #mila/sara #bowie's crappy writing #yoi: gundam au

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tagamark · 5 years ago

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Feel Connected?

New Post has been published on https://tagasafarisafrica.com/africa-travel-news/feel-connected/

Feel Connected?

As rangers we are all passionate about animals and most of us have pets at our homes away from the reserve. However, there is an understanding that one must undertake when becoming a ranger; while we spend hours every day admiring and watching the animals around us, we will never get to touch them or form any sort of affectionate physical bond. They are not pets and these wild animals must remain wild. Now, rangers and guests alike have all had at least the slightest of urges to climb off a Land Rover and cuddle up next to sleeping lions, scratch the belly of a leopard, rub behind the ears of a rhino or shake hands with an elephant’s trunk (well maybe that last one is just me). However, we know that this is never going to happen and, if it did, it would probably be our last living act! But over time we are inevitably drawn towards certain individuals through shades of respect, admiration, sympathy, etc. I formed my first and strongest ‘connection’ with a certain young leopardess…

When I arrived at MalaMala Game Reserve in October 2017, I was (and still am) blown away by the wonders of the reserve’s landscape and the animals that call it home. In the beginning a new ranger must first learn the roads and this can be, nay, is very confusing! An often-asked question from guests at MalaMala is “Do you ever get lost? There are no road signs!” To which I usually reply, “You would never know if I was.” Many hours are spent out in the bush with a map before we are allowed to venture out with guests. This period is often remembered very fondly by all rangers. For days on end it’s just you and the African bush. During my initial phase of learning the reserves intricate and vast road network I’d heard that a female leopard had given birth to a litter of three. Naturally I was determined to learn the roads very well around where she was denning her newly born cubs. For record keeping and research we name our leopards. We do not give them names such as “Skippy” or “Spot” but rather a name associated with the area in which they became territorial or a significant land mark in that area. The mother leopard in question had been named ‘the Lookout female’ as she was often seen on two roads; Dudley Lookout and Flockfield Lookout, both run along the banks of the Sand River. So, I became very well versed in the roads that encompassed her den as well as the valleys and drainage systems that carved out the surrounding land. A truly beautiful place and ideal for raising cubs safely. I enjoyed several sightings of all four leopards together. They were affectionate and playful. I started to see individual personalities emerging. One cub was shy and never strayed far from its mother, one was more boisterous and the other had a taste for exploring. It was impossible for me not to form an emotional attachment. Unfortunately, two of the cubs died early on and it was a bitter pill for me to swallow. It’s a harsh world out there.

For most mothers in the animal kingdom, the safety of their offspring is of the utmost importance and the Lookout female was no exception to this. She kept her surviving female cub (the explorer) a suitable distance away from our vehicles. If the cub ventured too close then it would be checked by a snarl or growl from her mother. However, as time passed the cub’s irresistible curiosity defeated its mother’s warnings and the snarls soon faded away. The cub quickly became a crowd favourite and it wasn’t long before we were the ones giving the warning… A soft clap of the hands was often required to dissuade the cub from attempting to climb into the Land Rover. Again, we all harboured the secret urge to let her climb on up but we knew what had to be done. One day she’ll be a big leopard and… well, you can imagine what could happen.

At the anniversary of my first year with MalaMala (and her birthday or there about) she vanished. For several weeks there was no sign of her or her mother. The areas in which they would often be found became void of paw prints or alarming impalas that would announce their presence. My heart dropped lower with each passing day. I had come to know this leopard better than any other on the reserve and almost as well as my dog back home. A young leopard is susceptible to a variety of threats out in the wild, with other leopards being at the top of that list. The theories piled up. Was the cub killed by another leopard? Lions? Were they pushed out of their territory? Weeks went by without a trace of neither mother nor cub.

I can clearly remember driving down the dry bed of the Matshapiri River, scanning its banks. This was on the very edge of the Lookout female’s territory. “Leopard!” I heard my guest call out from behind me. My eyes followed her outstretched hand. A small and slender looking spotted cat floated over the sand with ease. It ascended the bank and then climb up into a large Jackalberry Tree. Was it the Lookout female’s cub? Yes! The elation that I felt as we drew closer to gaze up at her as she sat in the fork of the tree has, to date, not been matched.

Fast forward to the last few weeks. She has become independent of her mother and we’ve been seeing much more of this phenomenal feline. Nothing excites me more or draws a broader smile to my face than hearing on the radio “Stations. There’s a female leopard at … It’s the daughter of the Lookout female.” She consistently entertains all who view her with her energetic movements up and down Marula Trees and through treacherous thickets. Every moment with her is a moment well spent and most leave feeling ‘connected’. She has also just started to display territorial behaviour. History tells us that female leopards set up small territories that are bequeathed to them by their mothers. The Lookout female has a prime piece of real estate along the Sand River which, during the dry winter months, allows her to reap the rewards of the only available water which sees herds of impala, nyalas and bushbuck accommodating the banks.

Naturally, she now has all the rangers coming up with a potential name for her. But more importantly, whatever we call her, she won’t come.

Post courtesy of Ranger Liam Henderson of Mala Mala Game Reserve

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