#I'm not even kidding. Like white on rice.
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[ ♛ ] send me a url and i'll tell you the following;
my opinion on:
John Walker as portrayed by @battletrio
character in general: John is a really interesting character. In any other circumstance he would undoubtedly be sold to the audience as the protagonist of his story, his big crime is that he's being compared to Steve Rogers. Trust me, Faith can relate. I really love John, I think they cast the heck out of him in TFATWS. Can't wait to see where he goes next.
the mun: Do I adore you? Yes I do. But, shhh. Don't let it go to your head. ;)
do i;
follow them: Absolutely!
rp with them: We try! We do more plotting than writing, though, but that's my fault for letting my work life take over everything.
want to rp with them: Yes, always!
ship their character with mine: Not John, at present. He's married and he's also in a vulnerable state, and Faith's grown enough as a person that she wouldn't take advantage of that. Not that he's not yummy. Lemar, on the other hand. That boy is the hunkiest hunk from Hunkville. Faith's already got a mind to be on him like white on rice.
what is my;
overall opinion: Boo is such a sweetheart. So much fun to talk to about muses and plots. The way they deep-dive into their muses, tear the characters apart to figure out what makes them tick. The way they put up with my annoying adherence to strict canon, which I know makes everything harder lol. <3
#mun thoughts meme#battletrio#I'm not even kidding. Like white on rice.#Like *rice* on rice.#Lemar's gonna need an oxygen tank when Faith's through with him.
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Can I follow you if I'm non white?
Why wouldn't you bbgurl? I welcome all and any here who want to share this chaos with me! Don't be afraid I don't bite :3
#yall despite the fact that I'm white as rice and like to shout Eastern European related things i like everyone😭🖐#okay well maybe i draw the line at being french 👁👄👁 JUST KIDDING. i don't discriminate except if your french. 👁👄👁#okay i stop EVEN THE FRENCH ARE WELCOME HERE OKAY
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I've had a hard time articulating to people just how fundamental spinning used to be in people's lives, and how eerie it is that it's vanished so entirely. It occurred to me today that it's a bit like if in the future all food was made by machine, and people forgot what farming and cooking were. Not just that they forgot how to do it; they had never heard of it.
When they use phrases like "spinning yarns" for telling stories or "heckling a performer" without understanding where they come from, I imagine a scene in the future where someone uses the phrase "stir the pot" to mean "cause a disagreement" and I say, did you know a pot used to be a container for heating food, and stirring was a way of combining different components of food together? "Wow, you're full of weird facts! How do you even know that?"
When I say I spin and people say "What, like you do exercise bikes? Is that a kind of dancing? What's drafting? What's a hackle?" it's like if I started talking about my cooking hobby and my friend asked "What's salt? Also, what's cooking?" Well, you see, there are a lot of stages to food preparation, starting with planting crops, and cooking is one of the later stages. Salt is a chemical used in cooking which mostly alters the flavor of the food but can also be used for other things, like drawing out moisture...
"Wow, that sounds so complicated. You must have done a lot of research. You're so good at cooking!" I'm really not. In the past, children started learning about cooking as early as age five ("Isn't that child labor?"), and many people cooked every day their whole lives ("Man, people worked so hard back then."). And that's just an average person, not to mention people called "chefs" who did it professionally. I go to the historic preservation center to use their stove once or twice a week, and I started learning a couple years ago. So what I know is less sophisticated than what some children could do back in the day.
"Can you make me a snickers bar?" No, that would be pretty hard. I just make sandwiches mostly. Sometimes I do scrambled eggs. "Oh, I would've thought a snickers bar would be way more basic than eggs. They seem so simple!"
Haven't you ever wondered where food comes from? I ask them. When you were a kid, did you ever pick apart the different colored bits in your food and wonder what it was made of? "No, I never really thought about it." Did you know rice balls are called that because they're made from part of a plant called rice? "Oh haha, that's so weird. I thought 'rice' was just an adjective for anything that was soft and white."
People always ask me why I took up spinning. Isn't it weird that there are things we take so much for granted that we don't even notice when they're gone? Isn't it strange that something which has been part of humanity all across the planet since the Neanderthals is being forgotten in our generation? Isn't it funny that when knowledge dies, it leaves behind a ghost, just like a person? Don't you want to commune with it?
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Anne Rice, Literature, and Literacy
As a Black book reader of Anne Rice, seeing racist IWTV fans doing the "Black kids in Brooklyn don't even know what a computer is" bit by stating Black fans that they are "anti-intellectual" for discouraging or telling Black fans to not read the books (or simply implying that reading the books aren't important) is disturbing.
Black people are allowed to protect their peace, and not read a book written with racist themes, by a well-known controversial author. Furthermore, the implication that not reading a specific series from an author that had a sharp downward turn in quality after Memnoch (I know hot take, I'm sorry) makes a person immature and unintelligent is a level of self-aggrandizing racism that not even Rick and Morty fans could pull off. Black people refusing to read racist content and instead choosing to prioritize content with Black characters and less harmful political themes being associated with a lack of culture and media literacy is repulsive.
Anne Rice fans (not fans of her books, but fans of HER) are in such a large fandom bubble that they have forgotten that people have been actively harmed by Anne Rice THE PERSON who was alive and isn't a figment of fandom imagination. You can READ her opinions and her political beliefs, you can read what she has said and done to real-life people who are still alive and are in fandom TODAY.
People have been harassed by Anne Rice, and people have been threatened and doxxed by Anne Rice and her supporters. She isn't a figment of imagination or a historical figure without living memories. Fanfiction.net isn't Fanfiction.net for no reason. AO3 isn't aggressively "like that" (positive and negative connotations) without cause. The existence of modern fandom culture was built by her horrid actions, and the further and further we get from acknowledging the harm and change she brought to fandom culture, the closer we get to losing fandom culture altogether.
I'm not going to say names, but once again it is repeated offenders who I have spoken about who have once again implied that Black fans are "encouraging" stupidity in Black people. That Black fans are unintelligent and that they are "uncultured" of their own volition. I'm not going to mince words here, the IWTV fandom is full of pieces of shit who believe that Black people are unintelligent and that their unintelligence is "self-inflicted". That their lack of interest in reading a singular book written by a controversial figure is a sign that they are inherently inferior. We've seen this with "Black culture encourages unintelligence" and "Black culture encourages violence" so seeing it within the confines of a space made up of queer losers (for lack of a better term as I am one myself) isn't surprising. But it is disappointing in ways that words, barring expletives, cannot describe. The xenophobia and racism towards African Americans in a show that centers African Americans is revolting. If I want to hear a rant about how Black Americans are encouraging vice and delinquency I could listen to Richard Spencer or Nick Fuentes wax poetic, I don't want to hear it from fans of a woman whose harassment campaigns towards critics are continuing from beyond the grave.
I don't want to be the person that begs people to read Black literature, but I wish a black person would walk up to white people and scoff when they say they haven't read N.K Jemisin or Octavia Butler. That we shall roll our eyes and say "What has literacy come to?" when someone says they don't know who Zora Neale Hurston is. Who walks around and rants about how "White culture is in such a bad spot because their people don't encourage listening to Jazz and Hip Hop. And how I shed my Black savior tears about how destructive their culture is,". Maybe then we would start to see shame.
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Have you ever read a fic called A Medication On Railroading? Because I think you'll like it. Basic summery with no spoilers: Jack takes Tim on a trip to Atlanta and then leaves him in Atlanta so he goes train hopping to get home. Very hurt/comfort.
But it also gives me an idea that I'm not sure where to share. What if that wasn't Tim's first time getting home like that? Maybe the first time was just New York when he was say... 9 years old? His parents took him with them to a Gala and Jack thought Janet called him a car home and Janet thought Jack took care of it. Neither one did and Tiny Tim figured out how to get home on his own. It happens again when he's 11 so he already knows what to do, he studied up in case it happened again.
After the second time, anytime Tim is with his parents he keeps his camera bag on him at all times which has 300 dollars in it that he can use on getting home. Tim also discovers during the second one that trains are *way* better than busses and cabs. He's all alone, just him and the scenery and whatever cargo his car holds. He can Fully Relax. He doesn't have to be the perfect heir, he doesn't have to smile for the cameras, he doesn't have to be quiet or good or perfectly polite. He can scream and laugh and cry if he wants to and no one will ever know! He can sing and curse and throw rocks at things! He can be a *kid*.
After Tim becomes Robin, he never calls Batman for a pick up if he's abandoned somewhere and instead will make his own way home. Heck, after some missions with Young Justice he will turn off his trackers and ride trains home so that he can loudly vent about them without having to worry about anyone ever knowing what he said!
This does become a slight problem when he's 17 and Bruce needs him for something and finds out from Bart that their mission ended a day and a half ago. But Tim never called for pick up. And his trackers are all offline. And he never hit his emergency beacon and *no one can find him*. Bruce totally isn't freaking out. The other Bats totally aren't freaking out. Young Justice totally isn't freaking out. There totally isn't a panic spreading through the super hero community about Red Robin maybe being dead I a ditch somewhere and how both Batman and his team will react.
Tim meanwhile is straight vibing as he reclines on a stack of bags of rice like they're pillows, singing along to some sound track he downloaded onto his MP3 player, having turned the volume to max and nearly screaming the lyrics because it's the one time he feels like he can.
Yes! I love that fic you mentioned. It's really really good. Perhaps I should re read it since it's been a minute.
Also, I absolutely adore the little tidbit you've added. A few things to note that I love about it:
No one else knows/finds out until he's Red Robin
It's a semi-decent coping mechanism. He gets to chill out, vibe, and process. He's also in touch with nature and music during this.
Tim drops his various masks to simply exist for a bit
Tim chilling on some rice bags in a train cart with an MP3 player (not even his phone. This indicates he's fully offline during these trips)
A few additional notes to add. One, this could buff up the canon notion that pre-Robin Tim traveled far to go see Dick at the circus and convince him to become Robin again. If Tim had already done that twice unexpectedly, he'd do swell when he actually plans to do it.
Two, Tim probably created a white noise generator or something to give him totally privacy on his "me trips." This is why Kon and Superman freak out. They can't hear him.
Three, he probably gets covered in grime, dust, and dirt. He's no longer in the pristine environment he grew up in.
Gods. That sounds so nice and relaxing. I'm actually kind of jealous. Just the wind, music, and the slowly changing scenery? Fuuuck.
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Child or Double, Part 2
(Part 1 of this story is here.)
You pull the old children's clothes out of your dryer and hold them up critically. They'll be a bit big for the girl, but they'll do well enough for now.
"Little sister, are you around?" you ask the empty hallway.
There's a shuffle behind you, and you turn to see two young girls behind you, hand in hand. The one on the left is warier, while the one on the right is flickering gently—here one second, faded the next. You offer the clothes to the child on the left.
"Could you please take these to your sister? If she wants to come out of her room, I'll be making breakfast in a minute. If not, you can take her breakfast up to her."
Little eyes squint at you, and the girl on the left takes the clothes silently. The pair vanish, clothes and all.
As promised, you head downstairs and start clattering around with plates and pans. Pancakes, you think; even if the terrified child in Alan's old bedroom doesn't want any, the rest of your children will happily clean them up. They don't <em>need</em> to eat, but some of them enjoy it anyway.
There's a shuffling noise on the landing above, and light footsteps pad hesitantly down the stairs. You make sure to pretend you haven't noticed, moving to the far side of the kitchen before looking towards the door.
Two wide brown eyes peek back at you from around the door frame, and you smile. "Hello," you offer.
"'lo," she whispers.
"What would you like to eat?"
Her gaze darts towards the heaped platter of fresh pancakes. "You made pancakes."
You nod, setting the plate on the kitchen table and taking the milk out of the fridge. "I did, but you don't have to eat them if you don't want to. My kids are very happy about finishing off any leftovers."
Tiny white teeth dent her lower lip. "Cereal?"
"You can absolutely have cereal," you agree, opening the cupboard so that she can see the selection. "What kind?"
She points at the rice pops, and you pour them into a bowl and add milk.
A little more of her is visible now, and her bright red top tells you that she's wearing the clean clothes you sent. There's a pang in your heart, pain mixed with pleasure at seeing Alan's clothes on another child. "Are you comfortable eating at the table, or would you prefer to take them back to your room?"
Her eyes widen even more. "What if I get milk on the carpet?"
You smile, putting her cereal on the table and then backing off. "I promise you, that carpet's been through worse than a little spilled milk. I can always scrub it later."
Her lips press together in determination and she marches out into the kitchen. You half expect her to grab the bowl and spoon and scurry back to her room, but she pulls herself up onto the chair and digs in.
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. So brave, this little one.
A moment later, part of the reason for her courage walks through the kitchen door. It's the girl's Doubler, still hand in hand with the child who used to look like Alan. "Is there room for us?" the girl's Doubler asks.
"Always, sweetheart," you tell her. The girl scrambles up next to her sister, the still-flickering child perforce taking the next seat along. You're almost certain that the additional child is Duncan, the Doubler who haunts your attic.
You're proved right a moment later when Duncan looks up at you. "M-mom? Is it okay if I look like this?"
"Of course it's okay," you reassure the most nervous of your children. "You can look like whatever you want. Did you want a new name?"
"N-no." Wonder of wonders, Duncan smiles tremulously at you. "I like being Duncan. I just like being a girl too."
"I'm proud of you, my daughter," you assure her.
Not being particularly demonstrative, Duncan looks away shyly. But the little smile is still on her lips, and she stops phasing in and out of reality.
The girl, who's about halfway through her cereal, pauses to stare at you. "What's your name?" she asks.
"Elaine," you say, leaving it open as to whether the girl tells you her name in return.
She nods. "I'm Diana."
From across the kitchen, you nod in acknowledgement. "I'm pleased to meet you, Diana."
Duncan nudges the Doubler sister. "Do you have a name?"
"No," she says, her lips turning down in a pout.
"Sara!" Diana declares. "I always wanted a sister called Sara."
The newly named Sara lights up. "I like it!"
Milk splashes on the table when Diana drops her spoon to hug her newly named sister, but you're not worried. Like the carpet in Diana's room, the table's seen much worse than a little spilled milk.
~
(Okay, breakfast went on longer than I expected and I have more story to tell, so keep an eye out for Part 3!)
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Just One Week (7)
Gojo Satoru x Female Reader
also posted on my ao3 account: diluclover300
CHAPTER INDEX:
I H8 U
My Kinda Fun
Balance
{S] Awake
Eggs and Rice
Wait, but I'm broke
Couple's Discount
CHAPTER 7: Couple's Discount
...
Satoru is beyond ecstatic, his vision sticky and gooey at the insane amount of silks and wools carefully hung and displayed. There's a catalog of clothes, an array of expensive clothes. Top-tier luxury brands, ones you'd catch celebrities sporting like a pair of pajamas at the local airport. Ones that he can caress between the delicate friction of his fingers as a warm smile spreads across his face like butter on toast. Oh, how lucky he is.
To reunite with his long-lost friend, whom he spent years tracking down, whom he was able to convince into allowing this moment to blossom into reality. He feels like a kid in a candy store, ogling at each piece of fabric, at each suit jacket and pant. And how tempting the sight is, how it tempts him to envelope himself in pure greed like a creature of sin.
The assortment of colors, the breathtaking pigments, the unique textures of each cloth...
The excitement is so wonderful, so captivating that he doesn't even begin to notice the woman greeting him at the door. He takes off like a rocket ship, roaming around the men's section. A maze that he hasn't ventured in, yet one that feels familiar and natural to navigate through pure instinct.
This must be heaven.
"I think he, uh... I'm so sorry if he causes trouble." You half-groan, head threatening to hang low at Gojo's energetic aura. "Thank you."
The woman nods, a typical response that you'd expect from someone working customer service. You've been in that position before, squeezing out an exhausted smile at something you had no idea how to respond to. Funny enough, your cheeks sting from the muscle memory.
You think to apologize once more, but you refrain, biting your tongue as you dejectedly follow after Gojo. He buries his head in a ring of hung-up clothes, swiping through each shirt like a potential match on Tinder.
"Oh? Do you frequent here often?"
You turn back, confusion overcoming your face.
"No, I've never been, actually." You slowly shake your head, examining the woman for a moment. "Why?"
That low bun of hers wrapped in a red scarf, and that sleek, white uniform doesn't ring a bell. Does she know you?
"Oh, sorry, it's just that your jacket... I couldn't help but notice that it is from our brand."
"Oh," You smile, the interaction as awkward as awkward gets. "That's weird, I never noticed."
You walk away with an understanding nod, fumbling with your lips as you fidget with the black jacket lying in the crook of your arm. Now that you think about it, it does feel like silk, expensive silk at that.
Maybe your memories have faded over the years. It's possible that you snagged this from another one of those annual holiday sales, sort of a bad habit you've accumulated. You always browsed for coats and blazers when no one was around to watch, hunching over that compact cubicle as you frantically refreshed your search engine. Occasionally, when someone would walk past or start conversation, you almost let out a guilty flinch out of fear for getting caught. Almost.
Nonetheless, the suggestion doesn't strike you. There's not a single instance where you, the loyal slave to some measly corporation, could justify the selfish purchase of a fancy coat. A coat was a coat, no matter the price. It would have torn up in that monster of a washing machine you own either. Not to mention the void and guilt that would stem from such an unnecessary purchase.
"Is that my jacket?" Weird. You don't expect it, but you recall the events from this morning. The skeptical look on his rather punchable face.
Your fingers trace over the sewn-in label, mumbling the brand to yourself. Even that leaves a pretentious, bitter taste on your tongue.
Nope, it doesn't ring a bell.
You suppose it's French, and to be honest, you don't have an opinion on the French. There are far more significant matters, at least in your opinion, than some species of European folk. Why would you spend your precious paycheck on such a useless thing?
Everything tells you, everything desperately grasps you by the shoulders and shakes you to your senses. And then you finally uncover the answer as to whether or not you "frequented" such a snobby, stuck-up place.
"I must be remembering things wrong.." Yeah, remembering things wrong, my ass, you think.
He lied. Oh dear, you really tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.
And that certain white-haired culprit is currently nowhere to be seen. Quite frankly, you have no idea where you are either. You've lost yourself in the garden of consumerism, swarmed by the amount of clothes and designer bags laying in front of you. A landfill for the rich, you call it.
But it's peaceful for a bit as it is overwhelming. You're oddly calm when you take in the privilege of Gojo's absence, as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. A heavy one at that.
Five years was, and is too short, much too measly of a distance. If you had it your way, if the Earth rotated to the drumming of your feet, then you would have never known the words "Gojo Satoru". His face would have been an imaginative blur, those eyes nothing but a mere gaze, and those memories would become one of the infinite "what-ifs" of this universe.
And if you ran into him on a fateful spring day?
You would have abandoned destiny a long time ago, parted ways like ex-lovers. The occurrence would leave you as you were.
Still, steady, and normal.
These three values would have stuck with you, through thick and thin. But which one was it? You don't know what to call this incident. Was this the thick? Or was this the thin?
You wonder, mull over it for a bit before you're chained back into the prison of his presence. It's a game of push and pull.
This punishment of a game.
"Yo! Over here, Y/N." You look up from the leather jacket folded on the display shelf below you, eyes hooked onto that raised hand of his.
You seem to be on the receiving end, on both sides of that hellish spectrum.
"Okay." You make your way over to "here", that sigh of yours halted. You have something to ask him anyways, something about that jacket of his.
His hand is still held up high in the air while the rest of his body entangled in a rack of clothes. Stupid is as stupid does.
His and Hers, You regrettably read and fully understand the sign hanging overhead from the ceiling, along with the bolded words: NEW Spring Collection.
"Did you find something?" You only ask as a precaution, monitoring his spending habits. An awful habit that solely relied on you and you only for support.
That hand of his flails around before sinking down into the sea of clothes before him.
"You're here?" His hands scour and fish into the abyss, voice muffled into the ridiculous amount of suits and dresses stuffed in his face. "I'm surprised-"
A groan follows, the sound of plastic material ringing against his skull. A sound that you would have ignored because it seamlessly blended into the rapid snare of the radio-pop tune playing on the store's speakers. You could have paid it zero mind if not for the sheer amount of second-hand embarrassment that ensued from your witness of the scene.
"Careful there," You sneer, watching as his back contorts like a gymnast. "The higher-ups wouldn't want you to come back a complete moron."
Satoru chuckles, scrambling once more before putting an end to his short-lived visit to Narnia.
"I'm thankful for the concern." There's an array of clothes folded over his arm, and oh, does the sight worry. "Please continue to take great care of me, Y/N."
You give him a strange look, your lips curling in disgust. By no means were you concerned about him, worried about this bafoon of a man.
"You're dumb." It's a conclusion you should have come to earlier, really.
"Remind me," Satoru's gaze trails off into the air before landing on you. "Who was the one that lost to me last night?"
You're stumped, mouth opening before it shuts again. That unlucky "who" was you, the loser.
Gojo takes your defeat as an opening, a chance.
"Wanna try this on?" A dress is shoved into your face, along with that cheeky smile of his that peeks behind the cloth.
Your attention darts from Gojo to the pink, girlish dress.
The long-sleeves are puffed just by the slightest bit, and the material a bit translucent until you notice that there (thankfully) is a white cloth underneath to keep yourself covered. Your eyesight was just playing tricks on you. Okay, a bit of decency, you appreciate it. However, you think the skirt is just a little too short, but the sweetheart neckline does look kind of gorgeous, you'll admit.
"Whaddya think?" He reveals more of that hidden smile of his behind the blinding cloth, along with his now enlarged starry eyes. You don't take that as a good sign, it's more of warning. "Hm?"
Emotionally, you don't exactly feel inclined to wear it, nor does the idea entice you. Logically, you can't and don't want to afford a dress you could easily get for way cheaper on the internet. Besides, you'd rather focus on controlling the inevitable loss of your sweet, hard-earned cash if possible. And with the sleek look of the fabric, along with the carefully stitched in details - the item is nothing but a pure fantasy.
You intend to keep it that way.
"No-"
Again.
Again, again, and again! Satoru groans out of pure annoyance. You're using that word again. That boring word, the word which cages him in like a helpless bird, the word which is so draining, so terribly cruel, absolutely inhumane.
No.
How he resents the very existence, the very creation of that word. That word which rolls of your tongue without an ounce of hesitation.
"No?" Satoru interrupts, raising a brow before yanking off his glasses.
"Um.."
When you look into those eyes laced with the pure malice of the devil, your flesh tenses. Your muscles contract, a reaction not one of muscle memory, but one of cold-blooded fear.
"I, um..." Think, think, think! You can't seem to put two and two together no matter how much your brain tells you to.
When his eyes release a frosty residue into the air, when you watch the air melt against him, you lose your resolve. Stripped of it, left with the stubbornness lying underneath.
Telling Gojo Satoru "yes" - you'd rather lie cold in your grave.
"Is it still a no?"
No doubt about it, Satoru notices. Your stubbornness surprisingly (as if he hasn't calculated this reaction) clashes with his want.
Without a single word, you begrudgingly snatch the dress out of his loose grasp, eyes searching around for the dressing room as you turn on your heel, slumping with each step like a deflated skydancer.
"To your left." Satoru directs, burying the self-conceited excitement down his throat. "You're welcome."
Patience is a virtue, he repeats to himself, over and over as you disappear behind the racks of clothes in front of him.
...
You don't want to.
Oh, you really can't stand the look of it because the feeling this dress evokes in you is criminal. The definition of bi-polar, heck, even multi-polar as the fabric drapes around you.
A part of you, the mature side of you, loathes the sight. You feel girlish, frail, and overly-feminine, like a total joke of a woman. You gaze upon the mirror and shy from it, covering your eyes before you peek through your fingers out of pure embarrassment.
You were well-into your twenties at this point, a young age, but still... weren't you a little too old for this? You can't help but feel that way. With those bags underneath your eyes you look like a princess fresh out of a zombie apocalypse, not some cute, innocent-looking chick. Maybe you look a little fucked-up, honestly. Completely out of place.
Oh, whatever. You lightly squeeze and pick at the skirt, tracing the pleated lines.
There's another part of you as well, and you suppose it's your immature side. The side that pokes through your doubts like a roses' thorn.
It's pretty. You feel kind of special, like an actual princess or some kind of tacky, knock-off Barbie doll. Fluffing your hair, a pit forms in the bottom-left of your stomach, plague pooling up inside of you.
Envy, desire, selfishness begin to settle in. And to think that you strayed, parted ways with these three "friends" years ago. Only now do they make their grand reappearance.
So this is what it's like to be normal, isn't it? You ask yourself, only to receive no answer. Surely, this is what it's like to have the world at your fingertips, to have all your wants and desires served to you in silver platter, right?
You should be jumping up and down right now, squealing like a damn schoolgirl at the idea that you were living out a childhood fantasy of yours.
"It's nice," You mumble, almost as if you're trying to convince yourself to agree. The words don't stick as well as you hoped.
You're jealous, almost angry you've never got to experience something so trivial, so materialistic. Jujutsu training took up more than half of your youth and those high-school memories you so deeply craved only remained a simple dream. A selfish goal you could never achieve no matter which plan or path you took to get there. The consequences of your choices would always haunt you, and you suppose this is one of those instances when you see the faintest image of a little girl. A little girl with a pair of eyes all too similar, with a nose much like yours, with lips of the same nature.
You want to scream when your chest compresses against itself, eyes stinging and reddening.
How tormenting, you would have never imagined your reflection to be one of a burden as your fingers still against the fabric of that dress, lips rolling over each other as a ship sinks to the very bottom of your stomach's oceans.
You remember. You remember it all too well, those years in elementary school. One question stuck with you in particular.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
To first-grade you, that was a simple, easy question. So you churned out an answer with very little thought.
"I want to be happy! Like... forever?"
Hah. Simple.
You think, no, you thought that such a simple, inoffensive wish would allow your life to show you a bit of grace, a bit of fulfillment. You were wrong, damn it, you were so wrong that you let out a choked, cowardly sniffle. The little you wouldn't even want to see you face, she'd rather die than accept her reality-
"Yoo-hoo. It's been ten minutes, you done yet?"
You flinch at his voice, blinking profusely as you touch up your watering eyes. Being sad was one thing, but you were not going to cry around Gojo Satoru. Never.
"Hello-"
You swing the door open, feeling your eyelashes water before you speak. The sound of your voice is stupid as all can be, but what could you do? You were just crying to yourself like the main character in some cheaply-produced Disney movie.
"Hi." You frown, crossing your arms as you feel the wind blow against your bare legs. You don't even want to look at him right now. Why? He's not scary.
It's a silence so thick that follows, so thick that you can't even take in proper breaths from the air that lies between the two of you.
Gojo Satoru stares, and you hate it. You hate that equally thick stare lying behind those glasses of his, seriously. You want to hide away, crawl into a hole when he hums like that, sucking in his lips as he examines you like a zoo animal. You're going ballistic and all you can do is stand there with your arms crossed as a defense. It's insulting because you're aware of how ridiculous the thing looks on you. Insulting because he makes it so obvious that you look like a little girl playing dress-up.
"What?" You say, tone flat. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Oops. He swallows, guilty as charged when he stiffly rubs his neck. Satoru feels like a perv, the memories of that night flooding into the dam of his mind.
No, you're a friend.
Just a friend.
Only a beloved childhood friend of his, so there's no reason that these troublesome fireworks should be going off, bouncing off the barriers of his skin.
"Like what?" He looks away, hands stuffed in his pocket as he occupies his mind with the displays surrounding him. "I wasn't doing a single thing except looking at the dress."
Your lips tremble, and you feel dumb. Super dumb. Maybe it's those leftover feelings from earlier that begin to explode out of you, little by little. You can't seem to stop it, and it's killing you as your armor cracks.
"Is it that bad?" Your voice cracks, and he begins to panic as if he wasn't a nervous wreck before. "Be honest."
"What? Of course it isn't-"
"Stop lying." You let out, eyes burning up into ashes as they redden like cherries. "I mean it."
"Why would I lie? You- you look pretty." Damn it. He's let the cat out of the bag, fingers covering his lips before he decides to just accept his terrible fate.
No, that wasn't- that wasn't what you wanted to hear. You toy with the flesh in your mouth, the skin of your forehead scrunching and bunching up.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no... You shouldn't be mad at him, he was just looking at the dress, he wasn't judging you, you just made him call you pretty. Wait, you're pretty?
You ignore that, your skin crawls at the compliment. You hate it, you hate him, everything about him.
Your eyes are - Ugh. What are you doing?
"Well, it was just because... because.." You stammer, fiddling with the syllables of your words as the image of that particular black jacket appears in your mind.
"Because?" Satoru questions, taking in a deep breath. He feels strange when your eyes swell up like that, so strange that he can't put it into words even if he tried.
"Are you crying?" He doesn't know if he should ask, and he's especially scared of sounding like a total asshole. What if the tears just poured out when he asked? But, it felt too wrong, so wrong to just watch you fume up like this without adressing the elephant in the room-- the warm beads flooding the crevices of your eyes.
"You lied." You use the knuckles of your fingers to pat at the corners of your eyes, breathing in a shaky breath as you do, chest slowly rising. "Why did you-"
Okay, he could understand you were beyond frustrated, but falsely accusing him of lying. Oh, he couldn't stand it, even if it was you pointing fingers at him. Even if it was his dear, beloved friend.
"When did I-"
"Hello, I just couldn't help but notice that dress on you, ma'am. It looks wonderful."
You turn around, looking like a deer in headlights at the saleswoman who probably watched that whole shit-show with front-row seats. Gojo, on the other hand, takes in a sharp breath, rubbing his cheek before acknowledging the fact that they were in public, fighting in public, like a-
"Oh? Are you two a couple? We actually have a His and Her deal going on until the end of this month. Would you be interested?" It's the same woman he accidentally ignored, the same woman who unknowingly directed you to Gojo's lie. She's back, this time to upsell you on products you really don't need and can't afford. You thought you had formed some kind of alliance, but alas, she was just doing her job. Unfortunately, you were her target.
Now this, this was the reason for his visit in the first place. There was no way he was going to leave without purchasing color-coordinated outfits, the same ones he's been anticipating the release of since the beginning of winter. Usually, he'd be the type to despise such a release, one that didn't serve him any purpose, but because of you, and solely because of you he was...
"Yes. We're interested-"
"No-" You protest, the tears drying up against the dry of your eyes.
"We are interested." He grits his teeth at you, pulling you in closer to his side, saving face with a smile as his arm wraps around your uneven shoulders. "There's a matching suit for this dress, right? I saw it in the catalog."
"I-" You try to refuse, but they've already beat you to it. What was this? Your unlucky day?
You've been having a lot of those recently. And this day is no different when his arm sticks you to him like glue, feeling the outline of his body against your hip. You shudder, skin crawling once more at the mutual warmth. His fingers press against the fabric of your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze and pat. You might as well bark and get on all fours like his dog at this point, that was how you felt. Like Gojo Satoru's pet, always at his service.
The woman gives him an eager nod, "I'll get the sets out for you two. Please give me a moment."
Your eyes shoot up at him, and it's an angry look, no doubt. First, your vision traces his fingers that hold you, then at the knowing smile on his face. He knows you hate it, and he's just going to continue this torture of his until he's satisfied. You didn't even have to go through another cycle of defiance only to cower at his Six Eyes. Like a dog, you've been trained into obedience, without a single treat in your bowl or stomach.
In other words, you're at a loss. Advantage-wise, speech-wise, physically-speaking, emotionally-speaking... all of it.
Even though you eye him with such venom when that neutral expression looks back down at you, those beads still linger. You don't know what to make of your own conflict anymore, having a difficult time as the ground fills your line of vision.
"Hey, why did you tell her that?" You whisper-hiss, as if those words were meant to be kept a hidden secret. "Now she thinks we're a couple..."
There they are, Satoru takes notes of those tides as his arm slips from your shoulders. They're clashing, the gritty sand soaking those waves dry.
"Are you okay?" Did he have the right to ask such a question? To show an ounce of his care? Was he allowed to?
"It was for the discount." Is what comes out instead as he widens the small gap between the both of you. Ironically, this much more appropriate response leaves him questioning his own intentions. "Why? Does it bother you?"
No, it shouldn't bother you. It doesn't.
"You ass..." You mutter, hoping that somehow a miracle occurs. One so miraculous that his memories of your vulnerability erase.
However, such miracles never seem to hit you - they miss by a large shot.
"I hate you."
Or maybe they do as Gojo just nods. At least this once as you break contact with him, a comfortable silence settling in.
"The feeling's mutual, don't worry."
Satoru doesn't want to test the validity his words.
"You lied."
That isn't so far off from the truth.
...
"How is it?"
Your reflection is disappointing. The colors that swallow you are lackluster, they trap you.
"I don't like it." What outfit was this again? You lost track.
"Oh, that's too bad. Does it fit?" Satoru crosses his legs, resting in a fancy, maroon velvet armchair.
"...Yes." You answer, rubbing your arm. You're losing.
"What was that?" He tips his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, I just can't hear you."
As if.
"It fits." You speak up, tone numb as you tell him what he wants to hear.
"Good."
This, unfortunately, has been the norm of your conversations for the past two hours. Gojo would pick out an outfit from the spring catalog, force ask you to try it on, then he'd ask for your optimistic opinions which he held zero regard for whatsoever before buying or trashing it.
"Excuse me," He holds up a hand before pointing at you. You blink at this, dread filling you whole. "She'll take this one as well."
You did not say that, but you must be remembering things wrong.
The saleswoman nods. "Of course, sir."
She moves to pack up a fresh set, but quickly presses onto her own breaks when he opens his mouth to command speak once more. Poor thing, you can't help but feel your own foot ache at the amount of times she's had to deal with this.
"Also, I want all the accessories."
"A-all?" She raises both eyebrows, masking her shock with a boxy smile. "Are you-"
"I'm sure." Satoru nods, finally looking at the woman.
"Yes, sir. I'll get started on that right away." She scurries off with such urgency that you'd think she was held at gunpoint.
Your lips flubber as you exhale, taking in your reflection. Today has weirdly been all about you, in the worst way imaginable. You can't seem to catch a break with the absurd amount of haughty-designer outfits thrown onto you. This one in particular was your least favorite.
A blue shirt, reminiscent of those soul-sucking Six Eyes, short-sleeved with a slight puff in the shoulders, adorned with buttons of a similar shade. Though it is soft to the touch, it's more than unbelievable to you that this costs around three-hundred yen. The white lace skirt draped all the way down your ankles is no cheaper either, but a couple hundred yen was like child's play for the rich. Another regular day, nothing new.
Furthermore, Gojo hasn't tried on a single thing. He just assumes he'll like his side of the outfit based on yours, a total gamble of your money.
"Is there anything else...?" You decide to follow routine, but of course, it doesn't work when you finally accept your fate.
"Nah, you can go change now." He rolls his shoulders back before getting back on his feet, the chair as empty as he found it. "I'll be waiting outside, yeah?"
You carefully nod, studying his sudden change in demeanor as he whistles to himself, that stern expression wiped off the surface of his face. Now that was bipolar.
"Okay." You'd hate to send him into another frenzy of playing dress-up with a doll that was more than unwilling because you would also like to move on from whatever this was.
One piece after another, as if you're being timed, you strip down your clothes only to re-dress yourself in your original (work) clothes. Oh, how you long for that nine-to-five lifestyle, how you miss being stuck in that stiff office chair. Today taught you that being rich and ambitious was not for the weak, that you, the weak, suited the likes of a corporate, forty-hour work week. Not this pretend fantasy, this mere illusion.
Right now, you'd do anything to escape this hell-hole of a place and that demon of man.
"Oh," Your hands reach for your jacket- sorry, his jacket.
"You lied."
You forgot to prove your point, the evident truth that Gojo Satoru was a liar.
...
You can't believe it. Not a single bit.
"For the last time, and I say this with all due respect, but your items have already been paid for, ma'am." The bald man at the counter sighs, holding a receipt before you.
You cautiously scan the very long paper, fingers grabbing it's very end as your eyes widen at the total.
"But... but-"
You profusely rub your eyes, blinking over and over. You might as well go into cardiac arrest at the seven bolded digits, grasping the thin receipt between your shaky fingers.
"Correct," His voice cuts through your multiple stammers. "You didn't pay, your boyfriend did, ma'am."
B-boyfriend? Gojo Satoru? That man?
"He didn't, and he's not my-" You don't even get the chance to make your case clear.
"The signature is at the very bottom."
You stuff your face into the very butt of the paper, eyes flickering between the signature line and the uncanny smiley face drawn on top it. What an eyesore.
How in the world did he pay? You chew onto the flakes of your lips, releasing a deep breath from the very depths of your lungs. You were under the impression that Gojo came here with absolutely nothing but himself. And the flowers. You almost forgot those flowers, and you accidentally remember how ugly and spacious they look sitting on the counter of your kitchen island.
"Ah, I... I see now, sorry." You let out an involuntary laugh, shoving the receipt down your pocket. "I'm sorry for taking up your time, let me just-"
You grunt, looping one bag onto your arm after another, the worker behind the counter blankly staring as you visibly struggle. Jeez. Were you the one working customer service or was he?
"Have- Have a nice rest of your day." Somehow you manage to carry all six bags, three on your left and three on your right as you head towards salvation. Which was better known as the exit of this damn place.
"You too, ma'am."
Thanks, you mouth to yourself.
You have a feeling the rest of your day will be anything but nice.
...
#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#enemies to lovers#eventual smut#fanfic#friends to lovers#romance#archive of our own#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#satoru gojo#gojo smut
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Feel like I’m the only vampire chronicles fan who loves the new iwtv series
“Book Louis was white!!!”
He was a slave owner and while Anne Rice contextualizes it real well—she doesn’t try to soften the subject matter, she doesn’t try the “he was nice to his slaves” book Louis is like “yeah I was a slave owner, it was fucked up” —still I feel no attachment to white Louis. It was not the most interesting thing about him.
Anne Rice was weird about any POC in her books. It’s still a white centric narrative, the main cast of vampires is white. Boring. Black Louis is much more interesting. A Black vampire navigating his immortality among a society hostile to his kin is so much more captivating.
Many of the main vampires in her series get a book dedicated to them where they explain their origins, their experience with immortality and their philosophies. Except...the vampires that get their own narrative are white. I would love to see an Ancient Black vampire that was kicking before any racism as it is now was invented. I wanna know their perspective, I wanna see them philosophize.
“Vampires can’t have sex!!”
Later in the books they invent vampire viagra—also cry harder im glad they’re fucking and sucking
“Book Claudia was supposed to be turned at 5 Years old. Book Claudia would kill to be a teenager even!! This Claudia almost looks like an adult!”
Teenagers definitely aren’t adults. Imagine being on the Cusp of adulthood and then you are paused mid puberty unable to develop any further. That would be maddening She looks like a young girl trying very hard to dress older than she is. Also it would be rough getting an actual 5 year old to act her part. Also there's some weird pedophile shit in the books, I'm glad we're writing that part out.
“Anne rice would be rolling in her grave”
Let her roll. Anne rice hated any adaptation—she was a control freak. Look up “interrogating the text from the wrong perspective” it’s her melt down in response to bad Amazon reviews on her vampire chronicles’ “Blood Canticle”
She didn’t even respect her own canon. She retcons it multiple times. In the end she retcons the origin of vampires (which had been established in books 2 and 3) and made it the product of an alien parasite. All bcuz some took a sudden interest in science fiction, she just had to turn it into science fiction
This series is not a masterpiece, it becomes pulp fiction by book 4, almost every book opens up like a personal vlog, Lestat is her Mary sue and also self insert. There is gay ghost sex that turns out to be incest. Actually there is so much incest, ntm the pedophilia it becomes almost unreadable.
God and the Devil are ex bfs that are in a millennia long theological and philosophical debate, also the Devil tries to recruit Lestat as the prince of hell and he drinks Jesus's blood. But several books later, just kidding, that wasn't the Devil that was just a spirit fucking around with Lestat.
The second to last book is called Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis--there are bird-reptile aliens pissed off about the asteroid that destroyed the dinosaurs and want to eradicate mammals bcuz in every other universe reptiles are the dominant-sentient species.
There is nothing sacred about the original, this is not Beowolf or the Epic of Gilgamesh--this is Anne rice and her self-insert blorbo getting into scrapes. When adapting a piece of fiction the most important thing is preserving the Themes--which the show is doing superbly. What truly matters is that every character in Anne Rice's show is bisexual and polyamorous and a disaster.
If you're that upset about Louis being Black and Armand being Muslim you're just racist and either in denial or you know full well.
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Shimo: Excuse me, my King?
Godzilla: Yeah, what's up?
Shimo: Have you- any clue what the term 'rizz' means?
Rodan snickers in the background whilst Vivienne is trying very hard to maintain a straight face. Godzilla sighs.
Godzilla: Madison again? I told her to quit messing with you.
Shimo: Oh- no- well- I confess I may have accidentally eavesdropped on a conversation between her and Joshua. I don't think she realized I was there... A-anyways, they referred to you- actually- under the term 'Rizzilla'?
Vivienne and Rodan cannot hold it in any longer and both burst out into full on belly laughter. Godzilla looks confused now.
Godzilla: Ok... now this is new. I've never heard that one before.
Vivienne: Oh fuck- that's great- yeah it is new. Internet memes; those things come up every other week.
Rodan: Fuckin Rizzilla, that's fantastic. God, I'm never letting that one go.
Godzilla: Uhh- is this... meme- referring to any specific incident?
Vivienne: Uhhh- probably not- maybe people just think you're hot?
Shimo: It's- not a derogatory term, is it? It wouldn't be good if people begin referring to you in a disrespectful light.
Godzilla: No. It's not disrespectful. Plus I wouldn't even really care if it was.
Rodan: It just means he's... got The Sauce.
Shimo: ...
Shimo: -what sauce?
Rodan: The sauce, meaning he's fly as fuck.
Shimo: He doesn't even have wings--
Rodan: And he's fly like... uh... Viv, you got any more slang the kids say these days?
Vivienne: Rodey, I don't even know what "no cap" means.
Shimo: *confused noises*
Vivienne, doing a google: Alright, to answer the main question: "rizz" is apparently taken from "charisma".
Shimo: ...Ohhhh! Oh, that makes sense!
Rodan: Unless you're French, then it just means "rice".
Shimo: ...then, d-does His Majesty have such rizz that... one wishes to, uh, eat him... like riz?
Rodan: More like the rizz so strong that totties will be on him like white on rice.
Shimo: Totties? D-do you mean tater tots?!
Rodan: No, it's British slang! At least that's what Urban Dictionary tells me. It rhymes with hotties!
Vivienne, deadpan: I'm British and I've never said that in my life.
Rodan: Then how do you say someone's hot in British?!
Vivienne: We say "well fit!"
Shimo: *looking at everyone* That also makes sense. Everyone here is well fit! Wait, then Dr. Graham also has rizz! And Her Radiance, Mothra has rizz! We're ALL fit with rizz!
Goji: That... sounds about right?
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Cookout Hyung Line + Jimin
wc: 3.4k
Dreamer M.List
ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ
NAMJOON
• 𝐍𝐎𝐓 gonna lie, it was a rocky ass start when y'all first arrived
• having the meeting-the-family for the first time jives and all
• boy way shaking and sweating bullets the moment he stepped through the backdoor
• and to add salt on to the wound, almost the entire yard went silent when they spotted him
• with a strained smile and wave, you walk over to your parents
• Namjoon of course stayed close to your ass like white on rice
• the tension slowly went away as you spoke to the older generations of the family
• sweet baby Joon just sitting there quietly, ain't saying nothing in fear of messing up
• even though it wasn't being spoken, everyone was curious of the new face, hence the side glances every now and then
• it wasn't until your LEAST favorite loud mouth no filter having ass boy cousin came over to start some shit up
• "Aye ____, why you bring this anime non-speaking Nigga up in here? Black men ain't too good enough or something?"
• you purse your lips at his words, ultimately done with the bullshit
• it became even more awkward when you heard murmurs of agreement around
• "First off, I very much can speak and understand English. Secondly..." Joon steps closer, towering over the froggy male with a look of contempt, "What does me being Asian have to do with it?"
• "......."
• "........"
• ".........MYYY NIGGA! WASSUP MANE. Aye you know I was just testing you right? Gotta see who right for my cuz and all."
• people let out forced laughs while [Cousin Name]'s dumbass try to cover up his mistake
• surprisingly after that, Namjoon begins to open up and talk more with the family
• more so the younger ones, but at least he trying and that's all that matters
• the little kids think he's some kind of dog whisperer since all the dogs crowd around him for some reason as he tells them stories
• your parents damn near teared up when they found out he was smart
• "Oooh, ____ got a smart one y'all! Not only is my baby in college, but she also dating an Einstein! Oh [Auntie Name], I almost forgot to ask how your daughter doing with that locked dope dealer boyfriend of hers. Chris was it?"
• "Mama, please. Now is not the time to be starting stuff. This ain't a competition between me and [Cousin Name]."
• "Yeah yeah, whatever. Now baby, now that I know ____ got somebody like you around. Please help her raise them grades up, cause whew chile!"
• "Mama!"
• since he's still afraid to go out of his way to socialize unless being approached, Namjoon decides to spend most of his time with your mother
• bastard even got a chance to see the photo album that held ALL of your baby photos
• "Awwww, look at this photo! You were so cute ____!"
• "I swear Joon, Imma beat your ass if you don't get them photos out my damn face."
• "But why? You're adorable in these~"
• "Adorable? Adorable?! Just cuz you fucking me doesn't mean you gotta lie. We both know those some questionable ass baby pictures."
• he's so soft spoken and polite in conversations but wouldn't mind starting some shit up if needed for your sake
• ...words be so sly that it'll take a few minutes before your brain finally process what he said
• "I'm surprised ____ was able to get into [prestigious university], let alone in a whole 'nother country!"
• "It's really hard to get into [prestigious university] of Seoul while even being an international student. Then again, I don't even know why I'm telling you this. Not like you could meet the entry requirements needed to attend."
• not a roaster, but definitely one to throw light jabs and heavy shade
• being your grandma's favorite (even tho she says she loves all her grandkids equally) you knew it was over when finding out that she likes him more than you
• at least you still got your Uncle Pookie. It always take a few years before he warms up to the outsiders of the famil-
• "Oh yeah, did I mention I did a collab with Nicki Minaj and Juice Wrld before?"
• all hell breaks loose
• everybody asking questions left to right
• even Uncle Pookie don left your side to talk to Namjoon about it
• "...did...did he just...?"
• ....yeah, he stole ya family
════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════
SEOKJIN
• despite having met your parents before, he was still nervous about meeting the whole family
• that doesn't mean he was gonna show it tho
• with a mask of full confidence on, he walked through the back gates and into the backyard
• even when feeling eyes on him, he kept it up. 'just fake it til you make it'
• eventually, the confidence quickly became real once speaks to your parents
• it wasn't until he saw the amount of food at the table did he fully relax
• your mama saw the dazed look on his face and immediately walked him over
• "Nice to see you again Jin! That food caught your attention huh? Don't worry baby, what you want to eat? Just tell me and mama will fix a plate for you. And don't be shy either, especially when ya looking like ____ ain't feeding you right!"
• "Really mama?!"
• "Hush now! You can't blame me, look at him! Now come on sweetie, let's go get you some food~"
• ate every and anything placed in front of him
• finished damn near five plates before he decided to take a break for desserts
• so many of the serving ladies (who were mostly your aunties and older cousins) dropped their panties when they saw the number of empty plates and tried to feed him more.
• "Here sweetheart, you want some more greens?"
• "Edna don't nobody want them dry ass greens! Here, try some of my chicken. Saved the biggest piece just for you~"
• "Please, we already know you bought that shit from the store so it ain't no use trying to act all brand new Zelma. Know damn well you ain't fooling nobody with ya fake chicken having ass!"
• a war would've broken out had you not stepped in and took Jin away as he continued to watch the fight while stuffing his face with some of the chicken
• even after, he went back to try the spicy foods on the other side of the table
• quickly fell in love and got everything he could put his hands-on
• "What's this?"
• "They're homemade jalapeño poppers."
• "I'll take 50 of them."
• "Jin that's damn near all of them!"
• "Well it's homemade right? So they can just make some more then...problem solved!"
• seeing him gobbling down the food, your grandma comes over and the two end up in an intense conversation
• what's it about?
• you guessed it: food
• Jin became really good at dancing to the Wobble once he studied everyone's movements for a few moments
• but immediately goes in a corner out of embarrassment until your grandma calls him back to talk (about food again lol)
• when he found out she made those jalapeño poppers...extreme fanboy mode on
• your grandma enjoyed his enthusiasm so much she gave him the recipe and a to-go plate before y'all left
• rest assured that he's definitely been invited for the next social event
════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════
YOONGI
• it's kinda a good thing that it's a cookout because he refuses to handle a family gathering in one room
• "I don't got time to be breathing in all that shit, what if somebody got the 'Rona over there?"
• "Yoongi...you really ain't shit. You know that?"
• "Didn't hear you deny it tho."
• "...Whatever let's just go."
• "Now don't forget your facema-"
• "Yoongi!"
• "Okay, okay!...I'm still bringing that can of Lysol spray with me."
• even though he's quiet, he doesn't hesitate to talk some shit if needed
• is only nice with the adults, but not the kids caus-
• "Fuck dem damn kids! They ain't mines, and even if they were...fuck my own kids then. I don't talk to people younger than me like that."
• he snaps at your rude ass aunties and shows off some of his unfinished raps and beats
• the kids and your cousins are amazed
• "Woah...that's so dope!"
• "____! Why didn't you tell me how cool your boyfriend was?!"
• they watch him with their mouths dropped open in awe, eagerly hanging on to every word he spits out in a freestyle rap despite it being in a language they didn't know/understand until the food is ready
• your parents (low-key only your dad cause momma still didn't forgive him from that stunt he pulled at church) smile at how soft he is when he looks at you despite having a glare as his resting bitch face
• eats only one plate that was made by you
• the same older cousins and uncles that silently talked shit about him suddenly does an 180 and tries to kiss his ass once they find out he's a producer and rapper of big company
• "Aye mane, you think you could listen to my demo or sum cuz? 'Preciate it."
• reluctantly agrees to listen, but Yoongi -being the way he is- straight up stops the music by middle chorus and gives his honest opinion
• "Um...what the fuck is this?"
• "Whatchu mean mane? It's fye huh? So you can put me on an album or sum?"
• "You do know that the background music is the goddamn theme song from that Sofia The First show right?"
• "...yeah, I wanted to add a 'lil twist to it. Was there a mistake in it?"
• you immediately remember how brutal the idol can be from time to time and step in before he can get an asswhooping from dudes that's three times his size
• "...mistake? My guy, I don't know if you know this, but yo whole so-called song is a mis-"
• "Yoongs..."You give a strained smile, ignoring the wondering gazes at what you're suddenly saying in Korean, "please shut the fuck up."
• "Wha-why the hell do I have to shut up?! If anything, we know who needs to, and not to mention that wonky-ass Disney Cinderella song they call a beat."
• "You do know they just got out right?"
• "Of what? Kindergarten? 'Cause that's all I can tell from those barely basic ass rhyming words they put up in there. Pssh, you would think they would learn how to actually rap with all that free time they had."
• "Yoongi!"
• he's...an overall good guest...somewhat
• will help clean up because he trying to get back in your mother's good graces (and not because you promised to give him some sloppy toppy if he at least tried)
• dances...very very aggressively
• accidentally don electric slide right into the poker table
• y'all gonna mostly be by yourselves because he doesn't really want to socialize
• keep in mind that he is blunt and aggressive, which is a type of attitude a lot of black family members hate with a passion
• but does Yoongi care about what your family thinks of him?
• "Do I really look like I give a fuck? Well too bad...cause I FUCKING DON-"
• he will snap off if they say something shady, even if there's a little hint of it: hands will be thrown
• "Waste of my goddamn time right here...you made us come all the way to Korea when you could've easily came to the states, and for what?"
• "To watch her become the best fucking [dream profession]. And it's not like yo broke ass paid for the tickets and hotel, probably wouldn't have been able to afford a cardboard box to spend the week in if it was up to you."
• he ain't gonna sugar coat SHIT
• might end up fighting a relative if it comes up to it
• "Now listen here young man-"
• "No you listen here you ungrateful ass excuse of a person, you've been nothing but a pain in my balls since the moment we met. So you better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up. I don't give a rat's ass who or how old you are. Whether you a man, woman, non-binary, or a damn tree, I don't give a FUCK. But I do know one thing: these fists are pansexual and rated E for everyone, so you can catch 'em if you want."
• depending on how prideful they are, they might not like that
• when you guys leave and go back to your apartment you cuddle
• "You didn't have to do all that Yoongi. Some family are just like that, gotta roll with the punches."
• "I don't care who they are to you, you deserve the same respect you give them. Not any of that petty bullshit they love to spew out. And speaking of petty, that's why I took both pans of the peach cobbler and banana pudding too."
════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════
HOSEOK
• he's excited
• not a single drop of nerves running through his body at all
• he's super happy that the two of you finally reached the next level of a relationship which meant meeting your family
• greeted the cousins casually but with a mega watt ass smile
• some even came up to you complaining about it
• "Damn ____, tell your man to calm down with all that smiling shit! Almost went blind."
• "...but ain't you already blind Cousin Brian...?"
• "And? It gotta mean something if I was able to see a bright ass light in all this darkness."
• "I-well okay then. Hobi stop smiling too much, you messing up my blind cousin's eyesight."
• "Oh oka-what?"
• everyone adores him, yes even that one messy cousin that's always trying to ruin a family member's day (and relationship) with their new boyfriend/girlfriend
• you tried to keep Hoseok away from her, but he just had to say something when he saw her standing alone in a sheer dress that was clearly once a t-shirt
• "No Hoseok, let's go this wa-Hoseok!"
• "Hello! Very pretty dress you wearing~"
• "...okay and? The fuck you telling me that? You want your lil dick sucked or something Asian boy?"
• he laughs brightly at her words
• "No no thank you. But you should smile more, very pretty face to waste by frowning."
• with that, he takes your hand goes over to the kids which damn neared baffled the whole yard of the two's interaction
• and thanks to him having to be a nice piece of shit, you now gotta fend him off from ya messy ass cousin who now crushing on him
• plays games with the little kids, all the women swooning as he chases them around and picks them up like a father would with their child
• "Awe ____, you got you a cute white boy."
• "Thank you grandma, but he's Korean."
• "Well I like him!"
• when at the table he proudly brags about your achievements at work while also handling the process of obtaining a degree at the same time
• when you bring up his world-known status they are s h o o k
• goes with you and your cousins to the liquor store when all your low-key alcoholic aunts and uncles drank them all
• "____, I like your family. They're all really fun to hang out with!"
• "Mmmm, you say that now. But give it time, I'm sure you'll change your mind."
• as stated before, he naturally gets along with everyone
• but just because he's safe doesn't mean that the shit relatives you have won't try to come for you
• and after learning some tips from Yoongi, he's ready to defend your honor
• "Want to talk all that smack about ____, just wait. She's gonna be the greatest [dream profession] there is! Bet you won't be able to say shit then."
• this definitely gets him more respect from your parents and older male cousins
• he won't stand for anyone trash-talking you
• not at all
• so yeah, they overall love him because hello? He's Jung Hoseok
• he fixed the younger kids plates, even sneaking in extra desserts which made him a long time favorite amongst them
• complimented every food he tried, even if the macaroni and cheese Cousin Brian made was dry
• "Hey now, it wasn't my fault! I didn't notice that the dial was turned all the way up when I first turned on the oven."
• "Cousin Brian...you blind my guy, how could you have known?! Now, matter fact...who the hell gave this man the responsibility of cooking in the first goddamn place?!"
• ...ANYWAYS
• ate at least 3 plates and quickly danced all that food off when the music started
• cupid shuffled right into ya grandma's heart while grinding into your aunties'
• courtesy of ya [Uncle's Name] giving him a cup of 'juice'
• poor baby had passed out not too long after drinking too much of it and woke up without his watch and shoes
• luckily, you knew that something like this would happen and was easily able to retrieve them all before leaving
════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════
JIMIN
• socially awkward, but is still a good person to be around
• and since babes got that shmoney, he made sure to bring expensive presents along even when you said not to
• if any of your family try to mooch off him you shut that shit down real quick
• "Aye now, if you don't keep your crusty ass hands away from my boyfriend them $90 nails gonna be a waste of money when I get through with them."
• he just loves it when you get defensive over him sometimes, a little blush grazes his face
• they ask all sorts of questions about his life back on back without even giving him a chance to answer
• seeing him visibly flustered from the lack of understanding what they're saying, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind to sidetrack their focus on him
• "His parents are in Empire."
• "Really? Say sike right now."
• "N-no for real! Y'all don't remember the those few episodes...with...those Asian parents?"
• "..."
• "..."
• "...you know, now that you mention it..."
• "Oh shit! ____, you gotta keep him. And if y'all break up, you know where to hit me up."
• They treat him like a long lost son that's been reunited with his family once more
• "Has ____ been good?"
• "Yes ma'am. She's been working so hard lately that she even got promoted!"
• "Oh that's good to hear. But sweetpea you don't need to so polite!"
• "Sweetpea, you want another plate?"
• "I-if you don't mind ma'am."
• "Oh please with all that ma'am nonsense baby! Call me Grandma~"
• he likes the vanilla wafer cookies in the banana pudding the most
• good with baby cousins
• "Can you get the water hose and play with us ____'s boyfriend? My momma said the kids can't do it by themselves."
• low-key got all the single relatives checking him out.
• Especially when his shirt became translucent from the water which shown a slim waist and built abdomen that was hidden while some old shorts he borrowed from you showed off his thicc thighs and ass that's even plumper than yours
• "Ooh, look at ____'s boyfriend! Bet he taste just the way he look: real good huh~"
• "Yup, and he's mine too [Cousin Name]. Better watch yourself before a few tracks go missing boo~"
• "Damn ____! Where you been hiding him? Mmm mm mm. What's good ____'s boyfriend, you looking for some fun later on tonight?"
• "Um...n-no t-thank you. I-i'm fine."
• "Aight no pressure, just let me know when you need me."
• "[Cousin #2 Name], you ain't in no damn prison penitentiary anymore and Jimin ain't one of those 'lil he-bitches you can fuck just because he got ass. So back the fuck off."
• "Aight damn cuz, you ain't gotta get all territorial and shit....so Jimin...do you got a snap or some-"
• "I swear if I see you, [Cousin Name], and any other of y'all thirsty hoes around my boyfriend one more goddamn time! I'm beating some asses."
• ANYWAYS
• everybody adore him
• like there is not one single family member that dislikes him
• even if y'all were the type to be messy and filled with drama, he'll fit right in once they saw that he didn't take shit from nobody
• and when they do try to for either of you, cut off and put in their place immediately
• "I still can't believe it. How did ____ manage to get someone like him?!"
• "Oh? You mean Just like how you managed to get divorced five times?"
• the whole table done exploded with 'oh shit' and 'he got you [Auntie Name]'
• some even had to walk away from that one
• Jimin definitely earned a place in the family
#k-nayee dreamer#bts x reader#kpop x black reader#kpop x reader#x reader#bts fanfic#bts book#bts#black writers#black reader insert#black!reader#black tumblr#bangtan boys#yoongi x reader#hoseok x reader#namjoon x reader#seokjin x reader#park jimin x reader#jimin x reader#cookout#invite#omg humor#humorous#bts headcanons#bts preferences#fanfiction
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sneak peek on the itachi and shisui one pls pls that sounds so intriguing 😩
k y'all i don't know how to do sneak peeks, so this is literally the start of the story, like our girl befriending itachi and meeting shisui. something's wrong w me, i'm too longwinded.
anyway, this is the original request - thank you so much to this person, whoever you are, you beautiful mind. death and angst to come, but for now, enjoy the fluff and smidge of tension, i suppose.
"Thinking about an Uchiha love triangle with Shisui and Itachi. Neither of them got to confess to the girl when they were still kids (also given how things played out for Shisui and Itachi….…)
What if Shisui asked Itachi to keep her safe as one final wish? And that years after, she and Itachi ended up accidentally reconnecting. With him as an Akatsuki and her being assigned to investigate them and their whereabouts? What if after all these years, he’s always kept Shisui’s promise? That he’s always been her shadow??? That his feelings for her never faded????? HhhhhH
Djdjdncn I’m definitely not a writer but I’m imagining angst. So much angst."
Masterlist💿
Loving From Afar
Pairing: Uchiha Itachi x f!Reader x Uchiha Shisui
Summary: A little brainwashed by public opinion, our reader is extremely stand-offish when faced with an Uchiha. Itachi changes that, and then had to deal with our reader being nicer to Shisui than she was to him in the beginning.
W/c: 5.3k (IM SO SORRY)
Warnings: Reader's a nervous puker, talk of throwing up but not particularly detailedly, kids flirting with kids (it's all rated G, dw), brief kids bullying kids, Itachi trying to overshadow his cousin
Ages: Itachi - 6 in the first n second bits, 7 in the third | Y/n - 7 in the first n second bits, 8 in the third | Shisui - 9 in the third
Notes: lmk if y'all fuck with this, if y'all hate this, what you would change, add, keep, throw away - just let me know!!!!
You wished you hadn't been so quick to assume the opinion of your parents, in your younger years.
Your father, a Jonin, terribly wounded by the attack of the Nine Tails, cursed the Uchiha, whom he was certain were behind the carnage. Though a housewife, your mother steadfastly stood by his opinion, spitting on the once noble name with her husband. Like most of the village, you listened to those who seemed to know best.
They were evil, so evil that even the farmers on the countryside called the Uchiha a Family of Red Devils. Your thoughts were rightfully in accordance with the general public opinion - but it seemed you were one of the few sensible children at the Academy.
"Isn't he dreamy?" Yuna sighed, staring at Itachi over her sandwich.
"Totally," Mio agreed. She didn't even pretend to eat, like Yuna. Mio just stared at Itachi unabashedly, with her elbow propped on her knee and head in hand. "None of the boys in our year have muscles like his."
"Do you think he likes girls with-"
"Who cares what he likes?" You snapped, swallowing a mouthful of white rice. Mio and Yuna both turned their heads painfully slow, looking at you like you had just committed the highest treason. Indignant, you scoffed, quoting your parents, "He's an Uchiha - they're all reprobates, all rotten, vile people, and the more rotten and vile they are, the more powerful, and dangerous, they become. They come in two flavours only; weak or awful, and this one skipped a year, so he's not weak."
Neither Mio nor Yuna were able to come up with a quick enough reply. They just looked at you, and each other, opening and closing their mouths like stupid fish. Relishing the silence, you ate the last bite from your bento box, and threw it back into your bag.
When you looked back at your friends, their eyes were back on Itachi. You rolled your eyes, finally sparing Itachi a glance as you as you asked, "What can he be doing that is so... interesting."
Well, he was staring at you.
Your group, at least, you figured. Staring-staring, blatantly. His dinner-plate-sized, pitch black eyes stood so starkly against the pristine whites of his eyes and the pale glow of his face. You'd never seen such large eyes before in your life.
It scared the daylight out of you.
"What a creep!" You exclaimed, pulling at your bag over your shoulder and running back into the Academy building, right into Daikoku-Sensei's classroom to hide. He was your favourite instructor, and you were, by far, his favourite student.
Surely, Daikoku would protect your peace and let you spend a little while in his classroom before class.
He greeted you quite jovially, halfway through his own lunch and grading papers. Daikoku let you pull up a chair to his desk, just listening to you yammer about the most trivial things in the world as he marked the pages before him with a red pen.
However, your peace was disturbed again, too soon after it was restored. A knock came and Daikoku called them to enter.
"What a pleasant surprise! My two most gifted students, come to visit," your sensei said warmly once the door opened.
Intrigued, and a little jealous, you turned your head. Ugh.
"Come, pull up a chair, we weren't talking about anything important."
"I was just leaving actually," you interjected, collecting your bag from the floor beside you.
But, of course, Daikoku knew you were lying. He chuckled, "No, you were about to tell me about making a new dye for-"
"No, I wasn't," you snipped, standing up quickly. Despite him standing behind you, you could feel Itachi's eyes on you, trying to strip you down to your bare soul.
"Where can you possibly need to go, ten- nine minutes before my class starts?"
Itachi's eyes tickled your skin, searing through. But you kept your calm, trying still to not be rude. You just stammered, "Er... the- the library. I, er, have an over-due book, that I have to, y'know, give back."
Tucking your bag close to your body, you breezed past Itachi, who let you go without a word. You tried not to look at his eyes, having heard the horror stories, but they were just so big, and they were glued to you. Wide and unmoving, as if he were restraining himself greatly, and waging an internal battle.
He freaked you out.
To your core, Itachi unnerved you. Like all of the Uchiha.
It was bad enough that he had been moved up to your year because of his accomplishments, but you never had to interact with him before. You still hadn't, not properly, and, as you scurried away from Daikoku's classroom, you noticed that you were shaking like a leaf.
The unease travelled to your stomach, and made your mouth fill with saliva.
As quickly as your legs would carry you, you ran down the hall and out the back doors of the school.
You were just in time, kneeling into a bush and pulling your hair back, just as you began to throw up. Hot tears welled into your eyes, but you didn't make a sound as you gagged.
You could hear the doors swinging open again as you heaved into the bush, but you were far too occupied to care.
"Cor lummy - I didn't know you hated me this much."
Great. Yeah, perfect. Just what you wanted.
"Leave me al-"
Another wave took over your body, cutting off your command and taking every bit of authority out of it.
Much to your dismay, at the time, Itachi came behind you. With fingertips as gentle as feathers, he collected the loose strands of your hair, bringing it back properly and sliding your impromptu ponytail out of your hand.
You wanted to swear at him, yell at him to stop touching your hair, but you couldn't - you just kept throwing up.
After another wave, Itachi's hand came to the center of your back. You could feel a warm tingle were his hand was, and it almost seemed to tingle at the only frequency that could stop the vibrations in your stomach.
"Are... are you okay?" He asked in a unbefittingly soft voice as he stroked small circles into your back.
"No, go away," you snapped, head still in the bush.
Itachi just stated, his hand stilling, "I'm not going to leave you... not if you're not okay."
Coming out of the bush, you sat on the pavement and looked up at Itachi as he stood from his crouch. Your hair fluttered back to your shoulders, feeling strangely warmed, and almost dirty. Your mother and father would have been incensed if they had seen what just happened, so you knew you had to be as well.
"Why?"
"Because," Itachi hummed as he sat in front of you. "I want to show you that I'm not rotten, or vile, or weak, or awful, or that one strange word you used."
"I... I didn't..." He was making it so hard to stay true to your parents' word. You felt guilty to have repeated it. "I know you're not weak."
"And I'm trying to show you I'm none of the other things either."
They said there wasn't a good Uchiha to ever touch grass, but here the good one sat before you. He may have just been trying to prove his worth, but he did, somewhat, no matter how forced his action could have been.
"Thanks," you finally said, still so unsure.
"Do you want to be friends?"
You were wildly taken aback, and your parents late-night tirades flashed through your mind. Scampering to your feet at the speed of sound, you took up your bag, not caring about the pin that fell off in your hasty movement.
In response to Itachi's kindness, you ran.
Back into the Academy you went, finding the nearest girls' washroom to camp. You stayed for fifteen minutes, making yourself late for Daikoku's class intentionally.
When you arrived, you were woeful to find out that Itachi's wide-eyed stare had suddenly changed.
He glared at you now, and you wished for anything but.
Itachi's sharp eyes ripped your skin off, just to examine the many layers at their own leisure. You felt as through he was piercing through your soul, cutting it like cloth, with his plain, black eyes alone. Quick as you came, you tried to leave.
"No, I have to-"
"Y/n, you just got here-"
As your sensei stood in front of the door, blocking your only exit, you dove for the trashcan beside him.
It was stupid to think that you had gotten whatever was bugging you out earlier, because it wasn't like you ate some bad clams. You had captured Uchiha Itachi's attention, and you were sick to your stomach.
Tossed in the gutter, you and your reputation became worthless. People used to like you, but once you became the Nervous Puker, people started to steer clear.
Whatever. It gave you a certain freedom you had never had before, not restricted to plans or anyone else's schedule.
The moniker was nasty in the first week of your naming, but you slowly stopped hearing it as people stopped talking to you. You assumed they probably still called you that, but you weren't bothered by it, because it was never staring you in the face.
Meandering the edge of the recess-yard, you stared out at the adults, ninja and civilians alike. They milled around, going about their business in various directions and ways. Some held cases, where others had bags strapped to their backs - the ones with the briefcases styled their hair much more nicely than the others, and you admired one blond man's perfect quaff as he walked past the Academy.
You couldn't wait to get out of the prison that was the Academy, and you forced yourself to make all the progress you could, as quickly as you could. The instructors loved you and gave you top marks, the work was simple, but that only supported your theory that the Academy was only stagnating you. Though, what use was a seven year old on the battlefield?
"Hey! NP!" One of the boys from your year called behind you, making you turn your head in acknowledgement. He laughed, "It's good to see you're used to your new name."
"It's just as good to see you're not eating," his friend commented, barely containing his laughter. "Don't want to put any fuel in the tank!"
Pursing your lips, you just nodded as they cried out with laughter, and turned your head back toward the passing people. Their taunts did little to bother you, so you weren't going to pay them any mind.
That was apparently the wrong thing to do, as a hand gripped your shoulder, throwing you around before you were pushed, back against the chain-link fence. The two boys jeered at you, both pinning your shoulders to the fence as it rattled with your attempts to move.
"Where are you trying to go? Feeling a bit nervous?" The blond boy snickered.
To add, his brunet friend sneered, "We'd better clear the splash zone."
Like a flash, your saviour appeared. You never got the chance to ask him what it was that spurred him to act, but you were always thankful for that decision of Itachi's.
"You two have nothing better to do?"
Their holds instantly relaxed as Itachi's eyes darted between them. You stared at him, confused, but undoubtedly grateful for his intervention. Anxiously, the two boys turned to Itachi. They were both taller than him, but Itachi's mere presence dwarfed them.
"We were just-"
"I don't care, stop bothering my friend."
Hey, you weren't going to poke a hole in that now.
Itachi was saving you, scooping you up like the hand of a god, being the only person who could realistically stop the teasing, other than Father Time.
When the wave swelled, you knew you had to ride it as far as it could take you. No gift-horses' mouths were getting looked into by you.
"Dude, you can't be serious," the brunet almost chuckled. "You, friends with the Nervy Puker? Puh-lease."
In an instant, Itachi's eyes swirled, turning from the, regularly unnerving, inky black to a bloody, Ruby red. The sickness came to your stomach immediately, and you looked away from the scene as best you could, scared in every respect.
"Call her that again at your own personal risk."
Yeah, you were going to throw up again. His voice... good, gracious Creator. You'd never heard such a sternness. Such authority. Especially not out of some six year old.
Because he wasn't some six year old. He was an Uchiha.
Just like it had a little over two weeks ago, your mouth began to fill with saliva. You swallowed it furiously, but the more you swallowed, the more came up. Heat travelled through your body, carried by the deep vibrations that pained you dully. In your attempt to stop the feeling, you hadn't even noticed the two boys running off, nor Itachi's eyes returning to their normal hue.
"Look at me."
You swallowed again and looked up. Itachi looked at you like he had a few weeks before, wide-eyed, as something you couldn't name flickered behind his pupils.
"We should go around back again, if you're feeling... unwell," he offered, voice restrained but still kind. Swallowing and clearing your throat, you shook your head, finding it hard to speak. To your surprise, Itachi came forward, stuttering, "I- er, the other day, when you... ran, I-I picked this up, for you. Y'know, so I could, like, give it back."
"Where did all your confidence go?" You teased, feeling greatly eased by his sudden nerves. You sank to the ground while leaning against the fence, arms wrapped around your stomach.
After looking at you strangely for a second, rifling through his pockets, Itachi let a small, straight-faced chuckle pass through him as he replied, "It seems to leave me when I speak to you."
"That's a real troublesome problem between friends."
Itachi's eyes lit up. "You... friends?"
"Isn't that what you said to Jiyuna?"
"Yeah," Itachi grinned, sitting next to you on the fence as he pulled your pin out of his pocket finally. "But... I thought... why'd you run, then?"
Without any good answer yet, you just shrugged and admitted, "You scare me."
As Itachi extended the pin to you, you held out your hand, and he pressed it right into the center, letting his touch linger. His eyes twinkled in a way that somewhat invited you, and his smile wasn't obnoxious or arrogant. Your parents were wrong, you realized then. You also realized you had never seen Itachi smile before, not even a little.
"So, friend, comrade, associate," Itachi started happily, moving his hand to point at the pin in yours. "Tell me about The Ballads of the Green Cloth, and convince me to get a matching pin."
From that day, onward, you and Itachi were as thick as thieves. The people who stopped talking to you tried to start again, attempting to get into Itachi's Good Books through you. It didn't work. Itachi hated them to an extreme, and the people who had actively teased you, even more. He steered you away from all of them, offering you some of the best company in the world; himself, alone.
After every school day, Itachi began to invite you places. He would take you to the library, to his favourite spot on the creek, to the confectionary just off the main road. With your parents under the impression that you were attending extracurricular classes, you had two or three hours every day to spend with Itachi, completely unadulterated.
Gradually, over a year of spending the afternoons together, you and Itachi had built a steady rotation of places to go. The cycle started at the confectionary, with another nine places on the roster regularly (ten in the Summer). It wasn't set in stone, but you quickly came to find out that Itachi only ran on schedules.
"It's pissing down rain right now, Itachi," you pointed out, motioning to the massive window beside you, that the two of you sat on the ledge of. "Let's just stay in the library today, the creek will be flooded."
"It's creek day, though," Itachi countered.
You groaned, pressing your forehead to the cold glass, "I know, but it's not the day to go to the creek."
"What are you talking about? Yes, it is, we went to the stationary store yesterday."
"I've been meaning to ask you about that; why do we keep going there if you never buy anything? My pen purchases can only support us for so long - they're going to stop being to happy to see us."
"Why would I need to buy something, if you buy a pen every time?"
"My man! I buy the pens because you don't buy anything!"
Laughing lowly, Itachi took the honeysuckle juice that you had made in your kunoichi class that day from your hand and sipped it greedily. You grumbled something about how absolutely gluttonous he was, which only made Itachi laugh louder. The sound of his laughter hit your ear very kindly, cracking your resolve, and making you smile almost instantly. You bit it back, snatching the half-full container from him.
"You are so rich, and yet, you never pay for your own stuff."
"Well, duh, how else do you think I stay rich?" Itachi joked, laughter calming, developing a blush. You giggled, but his face got a bit serious, and he captured your eyes. Gently, a tad regretfully, Itachi asked, "Should I... should I be... paying for you? Like, your stuff?"
For some reason, his tone spoke to your heart, setting it ablaze. Your breath caught in your throat, feeling a tight pinch in the center of your chest. Goosebumps rose on your skin, cascading down your spine, and back, up, all the way up to the top of your head. A chill settled just underneath your skin, destined to never be warmed, save by one thing.
Perhaps it was the cold glass beside you, withstanding a particularly strong sheet of rain.
"No," you whispered.
Blinking a few times, the tension was cut, and you repeated, shaking your head and looking out the window,
"No, no. You shouldn't." Swallowing thickly, you chuckled, "You're younger than me anyway, I have more birthday money saved."
"Pretty girls like you shouldn't ever pay for themselves - Itachi, you idiot."
If it weren't for the slight shred to the other's voice, you would have thought Itachi had spoken.
But the voice was inherently not Itachi's, the melody was missing; the colloquialism replaced by a certain type of suave charm.
Your suspicions were confirmed as you looked at the window's glass and saw the reflection of someone on the ground. He was looking up, between you and Itachi, as your friend motioned to him, trying to be discreet. Making you feel even more confident in your deduction, the standing boy looked extremely similar to Itachi. His nose, and general facial shape, seemed a bit rounder, more soft than Itachi, with much shorter hair. And he definitely looked older.
It dawned on you that you were in the presence of another Uchiha, and the fear bloomed within you - it was quickly squashed by a heavy-set guilt for feeling that fear at all.
The guilt just made your stomach feel even worse.
It was as if your mind was on open display to Itachi as he immediately uncrossed his legs, coming closer and putting a hand on your knee as he hissed at the other boy, "Shisui, go away, now. I'll see you later."
"Why? What's wrong?" He, Shisui, asked, sounding so genuinely concerned that it just made you feel guiltier.
"Nothing. Bye. Go away."
"No, not if she's not okay."
Through the window, you watched the reflection of Itachi carrying out a silent fight with Shisui.
You just closed your eyes.
You were mortified. Itachi was so kind, and, here you were, getting all frightened over one of his family members, and then being the cause of his rudeness. If it was his father, you might have been justified in your fear, but another kid? Get serious.
"Look at me."
You did, remarking Itachi's eyes gleaming in the honey-shaded light of the library. A warm comfort overpowered all of your other emotions, wrapping you up tightly. It brought air to your lungs, in a deeper breath that you maintain to have ever been your deepest.
Itachi smiled gently, taking your hand into his and finding the perfect middle of your wrist. He rubbed small firm circles onto the pressure point.
"Do you want to go get an ice-pop, or something?"
"Popsicle," you corrected with a breath.
Chuckling lowly, Itachi nodded, "Whatever. Let's get one."
"Sounds tasty, can I come?" Shisui interrupted.
You froze at the other boy's voice and took a deep breath as Itachi gauged your reaction briefly. Immediately, he geared up to send Shisui on a long walk of a short pier. But, when you looked at Shisui, the words seemed to die on Itachi's tongue.
Nodding slowly, you found you couldn't speak. Well, you probably could have, but it would have sounded like a croak, and you didn't want that.
To your surprise, Shisui smiled broadly. Extending his hand to you, like Itachi always did to help you off of the ledge, Shisui beamed, "Great. I know a lovely, little place to get some really good fruit ice-po-psicles."
"We have our own designated spot, thank you very much," Itachi replied for you, smacking away Shisui's hand just before you were ready to take it.
He jumped off the ledge and extended his hand to you, providing a much more usual sight. You smiled as you took Itachi's hand, jumping close to him as he put his hand around your back as a precaution. Leaning close to Itachi's ear, you brushed his long hair back with your index finger as you whispered, "Maybe we should go to his place, so we don't disrupt the sanctitude of ours."
Gritting his teeth, Itachi leaned into your ear and whispered back, "I don't want him to come at all."
"Why?" You asked in a hush, lips brushing Itachi's ear again.
Dramatically sighing, Itachi bent his knees back and looked at you with narrowed eyes before leaning back into your ear to whisper, "You're going to like him more than me."
"Not very likely, but let's see," you giggled, not bothering to lower your voice. You looked to Shisui behind Itachi's shoulder, and he grinned at you, obviously feeling left out. Gathering up your courage, on Itachi's good word, you finally said to Shisui, "Itachi never mentioned an older brother."
"Ugh, are you calling me ugly, Ms. Nervy?" Shisui joked.
The nickname made your eye twitch, but that was nothing compared to the force Itachi turned around with, turning you with him.
"Don't you dare-"
"Shhh," you hushed, hoping to put Itachi off being even ruder to his uninformed family member.
"We're in the back of the library, and it's a Tuesday," Itachi snapped at you, before setting his fiery gaze back on Shisui who you couldn't see. Resuming a threatening tone, though even lower, thus quieter, Itachi hissed, "If you call her anything like that again, you and I are going to have a bigger issue than you can even fathom."
Sounding taken aback, Shisui said to you, as sweetly as his raspy voice would allow, "My deepest apologies, I should have known your guard dog can't take a joke."
"You know what-"
"Hey," you said gently, letting go of Itachi's hand. His hand on your back lingered a moment longer, but dropped as you approached Shisui. You smiled up at the older boy, remarking how sweetly his eyes shone, giggling lightly as you said, "You're a lot taller than I thought you were, up on the ledge."
"I suppose it's all about perspective, darling," he hummed, that suave voice from before returning. Flickering his eyes to Itachi behind you, Shisui chortled, "Is that one okay, or are you going to threaten me?"
You thought it was more than okay. No one had ever called you darling, except for your mother. Especially not so... lovingly? Of course, Itachi felt a different way. Coming from behind, Itachi tugged at your waist to get to you move around Shisui. You did and Itachi followed you, Shisui folding in behind him.
Once your group made it outside, you were left to your own umbrella, while the boys shared Itachi's. Apparently, Shisui wasn't much for planning.
As the two debated between where to go to get a popsicle, you let yourself get used to Shisui's voice. You quickly discovered they were cousins, but were much closer than any set you had ever seen. Shisui was a year older than you, and two years older than Itachi, which made you wonder if Itachi's voice would soon turn to be like Shisui's on day. Truly, his cadence lacked all the melody that Itachi's had a surplus of. Shisui spoke more loosely, and never went very long without a joke or a little quip. Even their scents were markedly different, as Itachi smelled like herbs and spices, whereas Shisui smelled of harsh soap. You came to know Itachi to be a member of the main family, while Shisui was a part of the branch family.
"Together, or separate?" The shopkeeper of Shisui's spot asked as the three of you put your chosen popsicles on the counter.
"Together," Shisui said quickly, getting out his wallet.
Itachi noticed, and got out his wallet as well, readying himself to beat Shisui to the money dish. Within your pocket, you collected 70 yen from your own wallet.
"That'll come up to..." The shopkeeper started, typing on his dated machine as it clicked and zipped. "68 yen."
You were first.
Smiling, oh, so very smugly, you looked at the boys as the shopkeeper took your bills from the dish with a soft chuckle.
"You two," he said, pointing at Shisui and Itachi as he gave you your change. "Ought to be paying for this sweetheart."
"Yeah," Shisui said pointedly, capturing your eyes before his smile returned. "If this sweetheart would let us pay for her, that is."
"I hear you, brother," the shopkeeper grinned, pushing the popsicles at you. The three of you took them up as the shopkeeper continued, "I've got a feisty one, too, back at home. They make the most wonderful wives, if either of you ever prove so lucky."
"They won't!" You exclaimed with a bubbly laugh, feeling embarrassed.
Maybe the shopkeeper would cause Itachi to recognize the signs of infatuation you displayed, and then he wouldn't want to be your friend anymore, and nothing scared you more. Not even your previous conceptions about the Uchiha.
"Oh, yeah?" The shopkeeper challenged you.
"Mhm."
The boys were strangely quiet, just staring at you. Maybe that was them seeing through your lie, so you decided to add,
"Honest! I like blonds."
"Blonds, hm?" He asked. You nodded with a soft smile on your face, praying that Itachi couldn't see through it. As if a test, the shopkeeper told you, "My son's a blond. Golden blond."
"Get me in contact with him," you laughed.
Before you could continue to dig yourself into the hole of your creation, Itachi put his hand on your shoulder, squeezing, though not strongly enough to hurt. You looked to him, and were met with that god-forsaken, wide-eyed stare.
Itachi needed to only look at you for a second before he kissed his teeth and relaxed his eyes, throwing his arm over you as he guided you out of the shop. Shisui gave the shopkeeper his thanks for the sale, and darted in front of you and Itachi, holding the door open for the two of you to squeeze through.
"Thank you," you and Itachi chorused in mumbles at the same time, before looking at each other and dissolving into a short laugh.
As you undid your umbrella, Itachi gave his umbrella to Shisui, staying by your side. The three of you began to walk slowly, down one of the back roads, Shisui with his own umbrella, you and Itachi sharing. You held it steadily for the two of you, only flopping a bit with the bounce of footsteps.
"I would dye my hair, if you would like it more," he asserted once at a comfortable pace, holding his popsicle to his chest to pop it out of the wrapping. Itachi moved to hold the stick as you took the end of his wrapping, holding it as he pulled it out. He looked at the cherry popsicle and gestured, asking, "Does it need to be blond, or can I do something cool, like red?"
Blushing, you leaning into his arm and ducked your head down. You laughed, "Platinum blond."
"I would look terrible, but if it's what you like..." Itachi replied, helping you with the wrapping of your popsicle before opening his palm for his wrapper in your hand. You gave it to him, and he shoved the wrappers in his pocket, giving you a smile as they crinkled.
Sighing contently, you and Itachi began to eat the popsicles. Your steps synchronized, and soon the bounces of your shoulders did as well.
"You two are cute," Shisui murmured behind you. Itachi's head swiveled sharply and the elder cousin snickered, "I rescind that; one of you."
"Oh, you're such a charmer, Shisui," Itachi derided. He was, you thought. But leave it to Itachi to know what you were thinking. Shaking your shoulder a bit, Itachi leaned into your ear and whispered, "Don't fall victim, I'm your friend."
"You're my best friend, Itachi," you said loudly, grinning ear to ear as you swapped your popsicle for his. You licked his and he licked yours, and you both hummed,
"I like yours better."
Laughing again, you both shrugged and continued eating the other's popsicle. Shisui, no doubt feeling a bit left out again, came up beside you on the street and you angled yourself toward him, though Itachi's arm remained on your shoulders. You looked at Shisui as he gave Itachi a very playfully taunting look.
"This is what you two do?" He asked, making Itachi quirk his brow. Shisui motioned at his own popsicle, then the rainy day. "Get treats, and flirt, while walking around?"
Caught, your face screwed up. You didn't know where the line of obvious flirting was, and Shisui could tell you were interested in Itachi... so why couldn't Itachi?
"We're not flirting!" Itachi exclaimed, defended himself, his honour, his family's honour- "Yuck, don't say stuff like that, Shisui, that's so gross."
Oh. Okay.
You distinctly remembered that pain for the rest of your life. It was like a knife, impossibly sharp, and quite unforgiving.
For a year and change, you'd been using your small crush on Itachi to help with that overwhelming fear - you convinced yourself that he could have a crush on you too, and if that were true, then he really wouldn't hurt you. You would besafe.
But he didn't. Obviously, he didn't. Why would he?
Cripes, you didn't even feeling like throwing up. Just crying.
"Hey," you mumbled, drawing Itachi's attention like a magnet. You looked at him, biting you tongue, as he looked at you with a tentative smile, worry in his eyes. Worry about what? Shaking your head, you got a bit of a grip, and half-smiled as you said, "I have to go."
"What?" He asked, smile dropping.
"Mum's making a nice dinner, so I have to go help," you explained, not exactly lying. Itachi nodded, opening his mouth to say something, but closed it just as soon. He moved to join Shisui's umbrella, and you grinned to the older cousin, "It was lovely to meet you, Shisui."
"And you, as well," he hummed. Shisui's smile was broad as he winked, "I hope we meet again, maybe do some flirting of our own."
In response to Shisui's kindness, you nodded, and ran away.
#itachi uchiha#shisui uchiha#itachi x reader#itachi uchiha x reader#uchiha itachi#uchiha shisui#shisui x reader#shisui uchiha x reader#itachi x y/n#itachi x you#shisui x you#naruto fanfiction#uchiha fanfiction
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why do you like the vampire chronicles?
- a fellow fan
Ooh boy, this will probably be an essay blog post at some point, but, I shall endeavour to give the TLDR version to the best of my present ability. None of us really changes over time. We only become more fully what we are and memory is a monster.
Do not ask me to recall my age, I am 20 now, though I often feel like Louis and Lestat, inhuman and haven't been human for 200 years. Plus the pandemic destroyed my sense of time.
Before the pandemic, a dear friend of mine introduced me to gothic literary vampires, I had just read Shelley's Frankenstein and The Picture of Dorian Gray of my own accord, and he cast me as Mina Murray-Harker in his production of Dracula (1897) opposite one of my best friends as Lucy Westenra himself as Jonathan and one of our aspiring villain actors as Count Dracula himself. I then got hooked on Dracula (the 1897 novel) and following that I wanted more vampires. We watched the 1994 IWTV Neil Jordan film together and I immediately took Lestat as my pathetic bi meow meow. I read the 1976 novel not that far after and started role-playing and cosplaying Lestat as soon as I understood him enough to make him my bi pathetic meow meow. I wouldn't pick up the chronicles again until catholic school and the move to Canada.
When I was in middle school I was a constant victim of bullying, mostly by the white rich kids for being brown, and vaguely gothic in inclinations and "witchy" and "other." My dad was also emotionally overbearing and expected a lot at an early age from me. He has since gotten better and I'm no longer anyone's victim, but, it's worthwhile to note I was victimized (past tense) for a long time. I've also had my fair share of misogyny + anti brown racism flung at me, and I am bi and genderqueer. For the record I forgive my middle school bullies, we were simply kids who didn't know better. Now, do better. I've also been the victim of emotional abuse and gaslighting, while it never escalated to physical that sort of violence even if emotional violence sticks with you. But as mentioned, victimized, in past tense.
I moved to Canada and suffered the indignity of the Catholic school system. I quit after a year and after their queerphobia made international news. But not before a brief run as a spiteful bi as fuck atheist and picking up The Vampire Lestat, finally.
Before the pandemic, I felt like Louis de Pointe du Lac and Mona Mayfair, during the pandemic and in catholic school I felt like Nicolas de Lenfent, following the pandemic and up til the present I aspire to be something of a Lestat de Lioncourt and Rowan Mayfair meaning less cynical, unlearning my shame, confident, clever at least intellectually but foolishly in love with the beauty of humanity. Now, we're here.
IWTV 1994 lost in adaptation
Vampire Reviews: IWTV 1994 ft @elisaintime
What Constitutes Evil?
Vampire Reviews: The Vampire Chronicles ft @elisaintime
Vampire Reviews: The Vampire Lestat ft @elisaintime
Late Interview with the Vampire author Anne Rice remembered by trans woman she helped come out.
Tagging: @covenofthearticulate, @monstersinthecosmos, @elisaintime & @the-brat-prince-1760, @dontbesylly & @i-want-my-iwtv (no pressure to reply, I just thought y'all would appreciate this story).
#anonynous#meera answers#answered#anne rice#vampire chronicles#the vampire lestat#bisexual#queer#lgbtq+#dracula 1897#dracula daily#re: dracula#dracula (novel)#dracula (1897)#vampires#lestat de lioncourt#nicolas de lenfent#rowan mayfair#mona mayfair#louis de pointe du lac#vc books#monstrous other#iwtv 1994#queue are more than what people see#abuse mention cw#gaslighting cw#religion cw#long post tw#overbearing parents#long post
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Feeling Human Again (part 2)
content warning (this chapter but probably the next one): sex, oral, dirty talk, subxdom, please dont ever read this chan or i will jump into the moon
You weren't unfamiliar with this side of Chan. His mischevious side was one of your favorite parts because it was usually the transition into relaxing. But when he grabbed onto you, the touch was drenched with the feeling of desperation. The look in his eyes was hungry, devouring just the sight of you in front of him and the thoughts that raced through his head of what he was going to do.
"I thought you were busy with producing." It was hard to not let it show that this excited you. Play coy, play devious. The two of you never really got a lot of alone time. You shared what time you did have with the rest of Stray Kids, which was totally finally. They had all become like brothers. Being around them felt safe and fun and you wouldn't trade it for the world. "I don't want you to get behind."
Chan frowned, unwrapping his arms from you and stepping back, glancing at his laptop. The desk was a mess. Water bottles and scrapped paper were strewn about, an almost empty container of white rice and chicken. He groaned as he sat downat the desk, shaking his head knowingly like he knew you were right to get back to work. Placing his hands on the keyboard, he stared at the screen for a moment. The silence was palpable, the only light in the room from the computer reflecting onto his face. It felt like the time was passing by so slowly. You weren't really sure what to do. Normally he'd stay frisky and things went from 0 to 100 in minutes.
"…Chan?" Stepping forward, you tenderly placed your hand on his shoulder. He looked up at you, the glow of the monitor on you now. Without dropping eye contact with you, he slowly shut the computer. The room was dark. He stood up, taking your hand in his, guiding you to the door. Well, that's it, I messed up and annoyed him and he's going to kick me out. "I'm sorry I bothered you. I know production time is really important. I'll just watch the guys-"
The click of the lock made you jump. You hadn't even seen his hand go to the door.
"Like I said, it's soundproof in here, babe. And I've missed you like no other." He spoke quietly, almost a growl. It took you aback, but it was exciting as hell. The two of you met eyes again, the hunger returning with an even stronger fire. Before you could say anything, you felt his force drop you to your knees. This was new.
Looking up at him, Chan place his hand under your cheek, stroking your face with his fingers. His thumb traced across your bottom lip tenderly. It was almost hypnotizing the way he could have you wrapped around fingers with just the slightest of touches. The soft caressing turned into a firm grip, turning your head to squarely look up at him.
"You wanna try something?" He bit his lip, looking sexy as hell but you could tell he was nervous to ask this.
"I mean, it depends. I wasn't really expecting anything to happen when I came here so I guess it's the time to try."
He closed his eyes tight, you could see him go through a hundred thoughts before they flashed back open. The hunger.
"Today, I want to own you. I want you to call me sir." A shiver ran up your spine. The idea of Chan having a subissive/dominant kink was always a joke with the guys; they always thought they'd want you to call him daddy (which you weren't entirely opposed to).
"Yeah, I can do that." You wanted to get up to see him eye to eye. You needed to kiss him. But he kept you down, the hand on your chin still tight. It was a little unsettling, but very hot.
"'I can do that for you /what/?'" You could get used to this commanding voice.
"I can do that for you, /sir/."
The Aussie was quick to unbotton his jeans, pulling them and his boxers down just enough to let his cock pop out. It was always a sight to behold. A monument to top of the sex god power Chan possessed. He looked down at you and then to his dick.
"Suck it." You weren't even going to verbally agree. If there was anything to start getting you warmed up, it was the sounds Chan made when you gave him head. Taking his dick gently in your hand, you tease it by rub the head all over your lips. He shuddered, stifling a groan. With a moment of eye contact and a mischevious grin, you were off to the races. He was just big enough to entirely gag you if you sucked casually, but it felt like it was a special occasion. Deep breath, throat open, you took all of him, letting his dick go all the way to the back of your throat and then some. The exasperated moan that left this man's mouth could've gotten you through a month of not seeing him, but you knew you were getting more. In, and out, licking all over and sucking, it was like heaven as he heaved with frustration. This was needed.
At one point, he grabbed your head, pushing you further down than you'd ever felt. He started fucking your mouth, hitting your gag reflex a few time but you are strong. There was nothing getting in between the path to getting fucked out of your mind by the love of your life.
"F-fuck, baby, your mouth feels so good," he breathed, hand tightly wound in your hair, "But I wanna touch you. Would you like that?"
You slid your mouth off his cock with a pop, causing him groan loudly. Thank God for that sound proofing.
"Yes, sir."
#i get embarassed when i write smut but i draw myself into these corners!#stray kids fanfic#bang chan x reader#i pictured chan reading this and then putting a cease and desist out because its so bad#ill write more eventually#we'll get to fuckin
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Full disclaimer, I'm a monolingual American from a privileged background (though I suspect that much would be pretty obvious frim reading).
I think part of the reason Americans always act like everything should be translated not just to English, but to American English is because up until very recently, almost everything WAS "translated" for us.
We Americans are so babied about language & culture, it's embarrassing. The Harry Potter books had to be "translated" because apparently we couldn't be trusted to figure out that a jumper was a sweater. I heard about an author of a true crime book just last year complaining about how "mum" had to be changed to "mom" for US release.
Then there's the American idea of exceptionalism which shows up not just as "we're the best, why would you want anything else?" but also as "wow, how weird are you for liking something that's FOREIGN?" At least when I was growing up, if you watched or read stuff in any other European language you're a snob. If you like anything from Asia you're a weirdo. (Of course, during my formative years, I was implicitly taught that Africa and South America did not produce any media worth consuming. If they had, clearly it would have been on TV because American TV had the best of everything /sarcasm)
Like when I got into anime in the 90s, Sailor Moon episode sequences had to be mirrored so american kids wouldn't get confused about the cars driving on the wrong side of the road, half the characters in anime were constantly eating "jelly donuts" because we apparently had no chance of comprehending rice balls. I was freaking astounded when Netflix started hosting K dramas with only subtitles, no dubs. Just the other week I was watching an anime that actually kept the honorifics in the dubbed version and my jaw dropped because I remember my friends and I (pre-speedy internet) trying to parse mysterious words like "chan" and "kun." My well educated and generally liberal father reacted to my announcement that I was going to study Japanese in college (10 years ago) by listing the war crimes committed by Japan in WW2 (tell me you have a white American dad without telling me you have a white American dad 🙄).
It's also the way foreign languages are taught in US schools. Not just the fact that we start late, but that it's rarely viewed as a priority. I distinctly remember thinking "why am I learning French? Even if I ever go to France I'm only gonna visit for like a week, definitely not enough to need a whole language." There was almost no effort made to explain that 1) there are other countries that speak French, 2) there are people IN THE US who speak French as a first language and 3) you'll have a much better time overseas if you don't come off as a dumb American tourist. Culture being tied to language was never addressed at all. And I went to a well funded private high school where half the teachers held PhDs with language teachers were native speakers. (Actually I think it was one of my French teachers who explained that we 15 year olds were too old to really learn a language successfully, so that's awesome)
Do not get me wrong, this is not an excuse for Americans being, ya know, American about language and cultural literacy. But this is not an easy mentality to shake and pointing it out to a lot of your fellow Americans will get you a rant about how ungrateful you are for "attacking" the best country in the world. Sometimes I look back on the kind of cultural censorship that is so damn prevalent even now and it gives me a headache because this whole country feels like a cult sometimes. I wish I could have studied language earlier in life, I wish I would have seen it as more than just a graduation requirement, and I wish I had the time to prioritize it now, but I didn't and I can't.
--
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in a war that can't be won
part 4 of a Vanessa Abrams playlist - best heard in order
tracklist and quotes under the cut
Black Ops ~ They Might Be Giants
We take the best of it
And make a mess of it
Ripping up some lawn
And then we're gone
There’s No Home For You Here ~ The White Stripes
Each simple gesture done by me is counteracted
And leaves me standing here with nothing else to say
Still Waiting ~ Sum 41
This can't last forever
Time won't make things better
I feel so alone, can't help myself
Kids In The Dark ~ All Time Low
Lookin' back, I see a setting sun
And watch my shadow fade into the floor
I am left standing on the edge
Wondering how we got this far
Black Hole Sun ~ Soundgarden
Stuttering
Cold and damp
Steal the warm wind, tired friend
Times are gone
For honest men
Sometimes, far too long for snakes
In my shoes
Climbing the Walls ~ They Might Be Giants
I can't talk, I gotta go
Don't call me back, I won't get the door
Got to focus on the job
'Cause I got a new job
A Means to an End ~ Joy Division
Is this your goal, your final needs
Where dogs and vultures eat
Committed still I turn to go
You Need Me, I Don’t Need You ~ Måneskin
I won't stop until my name's in lights
With stadium heights, with Damien Rice
My Hero ~ Foo Fighters
There goes my hero
He's ordinary
Can’t Repeat ~ The Offspring
Life goes on, come of age
Can't hold on, turn the page
Time rolls on, wipe these eyes
Yesterday laughs, tomorrow cries
Coming of Age ~ Foster The People
Well, I see you standing there like a rabid dog
And you got those crying eyes
Makes me wanna surrender and wrap you in my arms
You know I try to live without regrets
I'm always moving forward and not looking back
Back to the Old House ~ The Smiths
I would rather not go
Back to the old house
There's too many bad memories
New York ~ St. Vincent
If I last-strawed you on 8th Avenue
Well, you're the only motherfucker in the city who can stand me
I have lost a hero
I have lost a friend
Darlin’ darlin’ ~ The Knee-Hi’s
Darlin', darlin', won't you kiss me on my head?
I'm laying patiently on our unmade bed
So won't you hold me and tell me goodbye
Before I lay here and shut my eyes?
All We Ever Wanted Was Everything ~ Bauhaus
All we ever wanted was everything
All we ever got was cold
Get up, eat jelly
Sandwich bars, and barbed wire
Squash every week into a day
Astronomy ~ Conan Grey
We drive through the woods, rich neighborhoods to watch
We joked as we looked that they were too good for us
'Cause socially speaking, we were the same
With runaway fathers and mothers who drank
A tale old as time, young love don't last for life
And now I know, now I know
It's time to go, it's time to go
All Used Up ~ Utah Phillips
Outside my window the world passes by
It gives me a handout, then spits in my eye
Cities In Dust ~ Siouxsie and the Banshees
We found you hiding, we found you lying
Choking on the dirt and sand
Your former glories, and all the stories
Dragged and washed with eager hands
That Funny Feeling ~ Bo Burnham
Reading Pornhub's terms of service, going for a drive
And obeying all the traffic laws in Grand Theft Auto V
Full agoraphobic, losing focus, cover blown
It Doesn’t Matter to Him ~ John Grant, Sinead O’Connor
Vulnerability feels like a cold, wet concrete room lit with fluorescent light
Which, as you know, makes everything look bad
I still keep trying to figure out how I became irrelevant
How I got myself evicted from his heart from one day to the next
And the worst part is that, even if I got an answer right now
It would not change anything because we have become two strangers
(Sittin’ On) the Dock of the Bay ~ Otis Redding
Sittin' here resting my bones
And this loneliness won't leave me alone
It's two thousand miles I roamed
All Things Must Pass ~ George Harrison
Now the darkness only stays at nighttime
In the morning it will fade away
A Change Is Gonna Come ~ Sam Cooke
I go to the movie
And I go downtown
Somebody keep tellin' me "don't hang around"
Roddy ~ Djo
One drink's what lead to the change
Out on my own, kicked out of the show
I'll take what's mine and I'll go
Can You Get To That ~ Funkadelic
I recollect with a-mixed emotions all the good times we used to have
But you were making preparations for the coming separation and you blew everything we had
When you base your love on credit and your loving days are done
Checks you signed with a-love and kisses, later come back signed, "Insufficient funds"
Shotgun ~ Pomplamoose, dodie
If you need me, you know where I'll be
I'll be riding shotgun
Underneath the hot sun
Feeling like a someone
Bread and Roses ~ Dawn Landes, Alana Amram, Abigail Chapin
As we go marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for bread
Small art and love and beauty their trudging spirits knew
Yes, it is bread we fight for, but we fight for roses too
Nina Cried Power ~ Hozier, Mavis Staples
It's not the song, it is the singing
It's the hearing of a human spirit ringing
It is the bringing of the line
It is the bearing of the rhyme
It's not the waking, it's the rising
#gg#ggplaylists#vanessa abrams#gossip girl#source: senamarais#the characters who left early (eric. jenny. vanessa) are only getting 4 posts so bye Vanessa
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Hakuoki Ginsei - Sakamoto Short Story
This short story was originally published in B's-LOG 2020年7-8月号.
Hakuoki B’s Log 2020年7-8月 - Fifth month of the lunar calendar - Sakamoto Short Story
Translation by KumoriYami
As the sakura were scattering, it began to feel like the sultriness of May.
Myself, and Sakamoto Ryouma, were walked leisurely through the usual noisy streets of Kyoto.
"Ah, Nakaoka, look! That house has a koinobori [carp-shaped flag]. How interesting!"
"......"
"Aren't those kids playing with sweet flags [菖蒲 are Acorus calamus, which are known as sweet flags]? They're clattering about, which is really nostalgic."
"……"
"….Hey, how about smiling? It's a rare festival, but you have such a sour expression."
Today was May 5th. The Dragon Boat Festival.
It's obvious that everyone was feeling happy, but that Nakaoka guy wasn't hiding how upset he was at all.
"During the Dragon Boat Festival, only the upper class would happily participate in the festivities. Would I be happy to see something like that? ”
"Having said that that, there's nothing sinful about a festival. Even if it was originally organized by samurai, now the people look forward to it.
Nakaoka glanced towards me and spoke.
"I'm not interested in samurai… On the contrary, you seem to be very close to that girl in the Shinsengumi recently."
"...It's nothing like that."
That being said, I do care about her.
During a festival presided over by men, and with everyone being so noisy, they should be at a loss… Huh.
“Sorry Nakaoka! just remembered that I have something else I had to do!"
"Hey—Chizuru!"
"Eh.... Sakamoto-san....?!"
In the surroundings of their headquarters, Chizuru could now be seen in the courtyard.
While she was surprised by my sudden greeting, but she however looked at me seriously.
"Sakamoto-san suddenly came to headquarters… Did something happen?"
Chizuru's expression was very earnest. As soon as I saw that, I felt the impulse to be mischievous for some reason.
"Yeah, that's it. In any case, it wouldn't be convenient to let the people around here it."
"You don't want people to know about it then?"
"Well, please take these."
"What are these?"
"Zongzi and kashiwamochi. They're delicious [粽子 are sticky rice dumplings and "white mochi surrounding a sweet anko filling with a Kashiwa leaf wrapped around it" according to wikipedia]."
"....Eh?"
"They're local specialties. As a reward, please treat me to some steamed buns."
Perhaps it was because she a bit slow to catch on, Chizuru blushed with embarrassment.
"Don't tell me that you snuck in to give this specialty…!?"
"That's right. Are you worried about me?"
"That's right. Could it be that you're worried about me?"
"I'm very worried… If the other members find you, they'll likely arrest you immediately. Please don't take risks for such a reason!"
She was complaining but also looked a bit happy.
"I came to see you, it's a reason worth betting my life."
After saying that, I gently stroked her hair and left before anyone unecessary came.
---end---
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