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the-gazette-archive · 5 years

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VKH Press Interview (2019.05.13)

the GazettE Re-introduce Themselves to the World with NINTH

Somewhere in the heart of New York City rested a five-piece rock band from Kanagawa, Japan. Less than 24 hours prior, they took Manhattan as its mistress by rocking an audience of 1000+ in Playstation Theater. Off-stage, they weren’t dressed any differently from the other citizens of America’s fashion capital; clad in loose black streetwear, expensive-looking caps, and ominous face-masks. What did stand out, however, was their other-worldly confidence and nonchalance with notes of awe. The Authentic Rockstar Vibe™. This was the GazettE… four of the five members to be exact. REITA (bassist), RUKI (vocalist), KAI (drummer), and URUHA (guitarist) sat on cushioned seats respectively. AOI, the rhythm guitarist, was unfortunately absent. As they removed their disguises to greet me, their humanity became apparent as I realized they were just a group of regular cool guys. Some really, really cool guys in really, really expensive-looking caps. Even without the makeup, crushed velvet, and epic theatrics, they were drenched in charisma. Nearly two decades of activity have made these men practically royalty in the visual rock scene. And they seemed to know it. The weight of their invisible crowns and powerful influence slouched their shoulders in humbling angles... They had swagger. After being introduced to them and the translator by one of their many managers, I rushed to set up for the discussion. “Hello!” I said, breaking the awkward silence I'd created. They laughed and greeted me before we jumped right into the interview... VKH: What do you think about the GazettE as a band today? RUKI: Ah, to describe in one word… Do you want me to describe the band in one word? It can be in Japanese, right? (laughs) VKH: We want to know where you think you are today. You can say however much you want! RUKI: Oh man… You ask stuff like this? Please wait for like two hours! What a hard question… [REITA, KAI, and URUHA proceeded to ponder how to answer the question as well. How do you sum up a 17-year career in four-to-five seconds...? It’s a feat that anyone would deem impossible. So I decided to grant them another 15 minutes to see where the conversation would go, and they seemed to appreciate it.] VKH: It’s ok! We can come back to it. Maybe an easier question... All: Oh! (everyone laughs and claps) VKH: Out of your entire catalog, which songs are you most excited about performing in front of your international fans? RUKI: "GUSH"! It’s fun to play. (laughs)

REITA: "FALLING." It’s the most important song because this is the first song that we play and this is the first connection that we have with the audience. It’s where we learn what kind of interaction we can expect from the audience and what we can provide. That’s why I like "FALLING" the best. VKH: Nice answer! REITA: Ah, I’m glad! (laughs)

KAI: "Tomorrow Never Dies." This is usually the last song that we play, and it’s the finale of the concert. Fans are super pumped up along with us, so that’s why I enjoy it.

URUHA: For playing overseas, "Filth in the Beauty." I don’t know why, but for some reason, everyone overseas really digs it. So I wonder if the song is more popular overseas than it is domestically. VKH: Is it not that popular in Japan? URUHA: In Japan it’s popular, but we play it so much that Japanese fans are probably tired of it now. They don’t get excited. KAI: (overlapping with URUHA) We play it too much! Japanese fans are always looking for something new. VKH: It’s the same way in America too (always looking for something new), but because "Filth in the Beauty" has that R&B sampling… R&B and hip-hop culture are so deeply mixed into American music today, fans get super hyped for that song. And it's so closely tied to the GazettE brand [that its a classic]. We haven’t heard it live that often, so we get excited when you perform it. URUHA: That’s good information! (laughs) VKH: Do you feel pressured to write more lyrics in English to reach more people? RUKI: For the GazettE as a band, language is more like a secondary thing for us. We don’t tend to think that far in terms of words, we don’t really think about which language to do. VKH: That’s good information! All: (laughs) VKH: In 2016, your first show in New York, you had a very strict concept and particular sound. NINTH, unlike DOGMA, has no specific concept and is much more versatile as a result. Was this to show the world just how dynamic and versatile the GazettE can be? RUKI: For DOGMA, it was a stand-alone concept; it was a little strange and different because of it. Because DOGMA was the way it was, and we toured for so long people started to associate us with the word. But really, we don’t have that kind of concept as a band. We want to show people this is who The GazettE is in 2019. We want to make it easy for the audience to understand. VKH: You often say you’re a live band, and NINTH feels like a love letter to your live audiences. What made you decide to showcase the GazettE as a live band on a studio album and how did you go about doing so? RUKI: It’s interesting that you felt like this because that’s how we recorded it – [with the thoughts of] how a live concert feels. When you actually listen from the beginning to the end, maybe it will remind people of watching the GazettE live. [Maybe you'll feel like] you actually saw our entire live performance from beginning to end. VKH: With this “live concert” underpainting, how did the glitch art imagery you’re using influence or relate to your music? RUKI: Even before we started production of the songs for NINTH, that was the image that we had. We wanted to show something like glitch art. Not [to be] grotesque, but to have the art show the blood vessel [as] something more abstract. That’s what the glitch art was about. That was the inspiration that we had before we started working. KAI: Often we, the GazettE will look at the design first and then we will get inspiration and make music that goes along with the image. DOGMA was exactly like that. VKH: So the album was artistically influenced – that’s very cool! All: (laughs) VKH: Many English-speakers think rock is dead. But due to the immense success NINTH saw on iTunes and Billboard (click to see charts), we think your work can change their minds. What do you think? Do you believe rock is dead? RUKI: But even in Japan, most of rock is dead. VKH: Oh– (laughs) RUKI: But as long as there are people who love the music, then it’s not in vain. It will never die. REITA: It’s like a zombie. (everyone laughs) VKH: You’ve said NINTH is the sound of “The GazettE in 2019”. But how would you describe the GazettE in 2018/2019 and what you have been trying to accomplish in your NINTH era? RUKI: This is the first question again? (laughs) VKH: Kind of, but a little bit different! It’s something a lot of people are wondering online. RUKI: Really? I want to know too. (everyone laughs) Maybe... the reverse of rock! REITA: Zombie. (laughs) Breaking Bad…. no, Walking Dead! (everyone laughs) VKH: But you're alive! KAI: the GazettE in 2019... Gosh, it’s so hard. I want to say something cool. Actually, we’re still searching for it. I don't really want to say what we are all about. We’re still touring, so something inside me is saying I don’t want to know that yet. I really look forward to seeing where this journey will take us. What we’re going to be in the near future. VKH: That's a nice answer. KAI: Oh I got the best answer! (everyone laughs) URUHA: You mentioned before that rock is dead… Maybe we’re a bit old-fashioned, so perhaps we’re samurai! The GazettE is samurai!! VKH: I don’t think what you’re doing is old fashioned, I think what you’re doing is new age. Keep doing you. All: (laughs) Thank you. VKH: You previously wanted to have NINTH produced by Josh Wilbur, but those plans were canceled due to time constraints. Might the next release or album have that dream finally realized? REITA: The song for the music video [FALLING] was produced by him. He did the mixing for it. RUKI: Yes, we don’t have plans to work with him right now, but we would love to [work with him again]. He wanted to come to our concert in LA but wasn’t able to make it.

Thank you for your time! Could you please share your goals and send a message to your fans and our readers? RUKI: We will keep making good music without fail, and send it out into the world, so as usual, please keep watching us. REITA: I am so very appreciative and grateful for you to love us so much, even though we don’t even speak English. From here on out we want to continue to keep making friends from all over the world and go to many different places, so please continue to follow us. KAI: I want us to continue to make the kind of music that we love to create, and for the people who are waiting for us, we want to be able to visit them, and have more activities. The five of us will work hard for it. URUHA: We’re doing so many live concerts in so many places on this tour, and we learn so much from the fans and seeing their reactions. We want to be able to make more music that the overseas fans will love and keep growing, and we want to come back here as well. Source: https://www.vkh-press.com/2019/05/interview-gazette-ninth-world-tour.html

#the GazettE #interview #VKH Press

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ceciliamarier · 9 months

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we have some hangings ya know and wally at the bottom not hung looking at us or at least straight ahead. and a gray barnaby taking his head off like a mascot with some creepy looking guyunderneath you can only see his chin and smile and barnaby's eyes are kinda wonky one half close the other 3/4 open him and his fedora? his half colorful circle and half black with thin gold vertical line vest cool

theres julie's old design she looked more like a monster muppet this time i like the design. she and frank are icing a triple layered cake theres a clock i like with big eyes half lided at the top then you notice how where 12, theres a closed eye at 3 theres a half open eye at 6 its fully open and at 9 its 3/4 closed reminds me of moon phases i dont expect everything to mean something like some deep meaning but things can still have meaning and deep personal meaning to me.

i think her hair is part of what makes her her.im not sure what she has in her hand its not a worm but kinda looks like one like that striped puppet one. the cake candles say NEW and the quote at the bottom of the page says What a wonderful Merry Day! in relation to that id say theyre celebrating a new day. thers pink striped wall paper two shades maybe this is julies house

a thing at the top of the fridge thats probably part of the fridge says something with a D and 197somethinng what number looks like a sideways capital M like a backwards or maybe a different looking seven idk. on the clock the the dots between a given eye where number should be are deliciously different very nice when zoomed in also i can notice a crack in the wallpaer julie's very fuzzy hand. there are sprinkles on julies side theres also a picture of someone on the fridge hung upside down with a flower magnet as a digital page it looks brownish like a page out of an old book interesting julie does look straight out of something like that. frank is trying to be consistent with his design and has dressed / is dressing the bottom layer and biggest in an organized way whilst the rest is random julie stuffing candles on the sides of it which is very cartoony.

picture books i never really grew up massively liking them like i do cartoons but this stuff makes me want to idk see this kinda stuff

i had so much to say about the julie and frank one

one image seems like mind convincing or control first the you're going to get rif of it children have seen it and now they know what to do….im wondering

it also says the neighborhood exists! which is the opposite of what i got shadow readign aka me "home doesnt exist"

in the first image theres a figure that is unrecignizable its not poppy but very fuzzy and big and has a lanky neck

the neighborhoods happiest little blue bird flies in with a dance in his heart! It's like he's really here! So we're going to get rid of it for good! We're all going to get rid of it! We're all going to get rid of it! We're all going to get rid of it! We're all going to get rid of it! You're going to get rid of it! You're going to get rid of it! You're

i think of bot ai. maybe i should get rid of it and if everyone did we'd forget about it. i dont see that happening though but who knows

the blue bird has hair like poppy but is blue theres a toy of him with his neck sticking out of like a top decorated with musical notes looks like a toy to me. and a hand reaching for it. i guess its happening gettig rid of blue bird

theres a logo like those smiling face logos except one eye is wonkily looking up to the middle of the forehead kind of the other staring straight they never show those logos looking like that above it says MARLO in a red circles and circled R to the right this page says opposite cards. okay so frank is like a grumpy character and these are just teaching cards. a bit rude that the example is Hello! to blue bird ooh and Goodbye. on franks card not hostilly though

featuring emie dorelaine's playfellows

they both have phones franks is light blue with a frown personalized huh? and happy center face for blue bird whats his name i like his chest feathers sticking out of his shirt kinda like shadow's chest fluff. he got a long beak. music notes on his shirt damn was he gonna be a musical artist neighbor the only medium obviously missing by the neighbors his shirt colorful has diagonal stripes an he's wearing jeans jeans arent that impressive he has birdy arms and humanish hands. so in the story theyre like lets get rid of him but he's also not part of the website sigh

at the bottom it reads copyright @ Dorellaine Inc, 1970, 1971, 1972

clown says blue bird is gone because "whatever my mans Wally wants he gets."

puppet horror #rip to u sonny

was that gonna be his name?

spooky sesame street

It'll have its own page up when i got the time

search >>> having two tags for the same thing is too much

@ partycoffin on tumblr

Jul 13, 2020

#welcome home #wally

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archerjyn · 3 years

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The Dragon’s Talons [I]

[A/N: okay before I start I just wanna say that I haven’t read the manga and had ONLY seen the anime so if anything doesn’t line up with the manga...I warned you.]

Pairing: Jae-Ha x fem!reader

Genre: angst

main mast / series mast / prev / next

"Where are we headed?" Hak asked Kija, hand massaging his neck.

"Hmmm....somewhere in this direction. We're close, I can feel it," Kija pointed south west.

Yona smiled. "I wonder what the Green Dragon is like! I'm so excited to meet him," she beamed.

My heart pounded and sent shock waves all over my body. To even hear his title hurt. I had such a fun time meeting Yun, Kija, and Shin-ha that I'd forgotten he even existed. How silly of me. The reason why we have yet to return to the capital is because we need to find the other two dragons. I sighed.

"Port Awa is in that direction. We're all tired from the trip so maybe we should stay there for a night to recover," I said blankly. Everyone stared at me

"What...?" I looked at them all.

"How do you know that?" Yun asked amazed.

"I traveled a lot when I was a kid. Port Awa was where I learned how to bargain," I shot the younger boy a cheeky grin.

When we got to the port, I told the group they should lay low until Hak and I found a place to stay. Hak and I eventually split ways to cover more ground and agreed to meet up at the center of the plaza once we found a vacant room.

I roamed the busy streets and was reminded of the first time I felt alive.

"Watch this ___," he let go of my hand and ran to the vendor. I couldn't hear from where I stood, but his actions said it all. When he came back, he had two bags of rice.

"How did you do that?" I asked, looking up.

"I put my hands together and gave him the prettiest eyes I could and said, 'please sir, my baby sister and I haven't eaten since last week!'" The two of us walked away laughing.

"When he said no, I told him, 'fine. I'll just tell the soldiers you let my one and only family, my sick baby sister, die,' And he gave me some rice!!" I gasped.

"You're so cool! I wish I could be good at that stuff too," I pouted.

He picked me up and spun me around before putting me down and cupping my face. "Its only because you're so darn cute that people give me free things."

"Hey, you new around here? I've never seen you before," the soldier in front of me smiled kindly.

"No, not really. But a lot has changed since I've last been here...may I ask where the nearest inn is?" I sized the man up and down. His uniform was very neat, his hair slicked back. He was handsome.

"Oh, I'm actually patrolling today. I'd be happy to take you to one," he turned and held out an arm. I shook my head and walked with him.

"What business do you have here in Port Awa?" The soldier asked.

"I'm just traveling. I got tired of home," I lied. We passed many inns and it became clear to me what his intentions were.

He had taken me to a secluded area in the town, where hardly anyone was, and pushed me inside a building. "You're such a sweet, naïve little girl. You should have stayed home."

“You must have low standards,” I shrugged and pulled him in by his collar, punching him in the face. He doubled back and scoffed, muttering something about how he let me hit him. I rolled my eyes and sparred with him until I got bored.

“Next time you try taking advantage of someone, you answer to me,” I pulled his hair, forcing him to look up at me from where he was situated on the floor. He nodded vigorously.

I continued walking around, asking inn keepers if they had any extra rooms but to no avail. I sighed and made my way towards the market. The sun was already beginning to set. Maybe the others would be less upset if I bought dinner?

While waiting for the food, I looked toward the sea. It was so calm this evening. I felt like I could stare at it forever and never get tired of it.

“Same. Except I wouldn’t say that about the sea. How about we go for a stroll?” A voice sounded next to me. I mentally face palmed and looked up, only to be met with a familiar pair of purple eyes and green locks.

“No thank you. I have somewhere to be. Excuse me,” I grabbed the food from the vendor’s hands and paid him, walking away at a brisk pace. Get out of here ____. Please please please leave me alone.

“Oh come on! At least let me buy you something! A drink maybe?” the male persisted.

“Jae-ha please leave me alone-”

“Funny. I never told you my name. Have we met before?” fuck. no no no no fuck fuck-

#akatsuki no yona #yona of the dawn #son hak #kija #gija #shin-ha #Jae-ha x reader #jae ha yona of the dawn

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emblemxeno · 3 years

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JP vs. Localization in Fire Emblem Fates: Revelation

(Okay, for real this time lol)

Again, here’s a link to my sources post.

Fortunately, this route follows suit in terms of good localization quality after Conquest. It’s the shortest out of all the posts, since I don’t really have a lot to talk about. Mostly subtle line changes, references and a few key points of information that were cut out. I also went through Hidden Truths and Heirs of Fate to see if I could add stuff from those on here, but there were no big problems that I found.

Once again, the main part of this post will all be put under the cut. If a chapter isn’t covered, it means I didn’t think there were any differences worth talking about.

I’ll use localized names for characters and locations, unless I feel the need to do otherwise.

I’ll be using she/her when referring to Corrin in this post. (I flipped a coin to decide the gender lol)

Also, note that after Chapter 14, the translation of this route on Fateswartable ends, so I mostly relied on the English patch done by Serenes at that point forward. (I also used PegasusKnight.com as a reference to fall back on if I needed it)

Chapter 7

-A minor gripe I have with localization. The JP version compares Touma (Valla) to hell constantly. To jump ahead a bit, I believe in the JP versions of the End of All Sky/Land/Below tracks are even called The End of All Roads Heaven/Earth/Hell. The Vallites are also often called demons in the JP version, and Anankos himself is known as the ‘Invisible Demon Dragon’.

Another cool thing I just thought of too, is a connection to a popular Japanese short story. Zelda fans might be familiar with the story, “The Spider’s Thread”, which inspired the Ancient Cistern dungeon in Skyward Sword.

The beginning of the story has Buddha walking through paradise (heaven), before coming across a pond. The pond is filled with crystal clear water, and covered with water lilies/lotuses. As Buddha gazes further into the pond, he begins to see the depths of hell.

Sound familiar? “Azura is walking through Hoshido, before coming across a lake. The lake is filled with crystal clear water, and when she gazes into the lake she sees the fallen kingdom of her birth. Valla, the kingdom associated with water lilies/lotuses in the game, has been turned into hell itself.”

This association loses its meaning a bit when the comparisons to hell are a bit toned down, as well as when the Buddhist inspirations were kind of supplanted in favor of Greek renames. It’s not supremely important to the plot as a whole, but it’s something interesting I wanted to bring up.

-In the JP version, while explaining what happened in Valla, Azura eventually says “Using the art of manipulating people’s souls, he (Hydra/Anankos) made the people kill each other.” This bit of the people killing each other was cut in localization.

Chapter 12

-In the JP version, when Corrin asks Flora if she knows anything about dragons, Flora says “Sorry, I don’t know…The ancestral dragon of the Ice Clan has already perished and isn’t part of the legend. I don’t know what role it plays, sorry…” Localization makes her response “I'm sorry, but I can't think of anything... They've been gone so long that we don't even have tales of dragons in the Ice Tribe. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more assistance...”

So, the JP version explicitly says the Ice Dragon is dead (I believe Fates’ second artbook mentioned this as well), whereas the localization only says the First Dragons have been gone for a long time.

Chapter 16

-There’s not really much of a problem that I have with what Ryoma says about Corrin “having leadership qualities at a young age” but I wanted to do comparisons regardless cuz the word choice might lead one to different conclusions. In localization, Ryoma says this:

Ryoma: Huh... So she told us the same thing... I don't think it's in Corrin's nature to lie. And there's a leadership quality about her that just attracts followers. I remember being jealous of her as a child, in fact. Even at such a young age, she displayed the characteristics of a ruler. Silly to be jealous of her, right?

In the JP version, Ryoma says this:

Ryoma: Oh... So, she told you the same thing. …Corrin isn’t one to tell lies. She’s been like that since childhood. She’s always genuine and honest... She has this mysterious appeal that draws people to her. Seeing my younger sister with the qualities of being a ruler... Honestly, it makes me feel envious. …What a ridiculous thing to say, right?

Again, I don’t necessarily have a problem with how it was localized, but some might. The localization version might have people think that Corrin somehow was a fantastic leader at such a young age, but JP is more clear that it was about the qualities she had at a young age that would be valuable as a leader.

Chapter 19

-A minor gripe. In the localization, Azura says that Anankos uses his magic to send Vallites to Nohr and Hoshido to stir up conflict. In the JP version, she says he uses magic, along with the help of a body of water. That’s why whenever you fight Vallites outside of Valla proper, there’s a body of water nearby; Hoshido’s lake (and the ponds shown in Hinoka’s CQ battle which are in the capital) for Chapter 5, the sea for BR chapter 11, the burning falls for BR chapter 21, and the city for Rev chapter 13. Similarly, the consequences of being a victim to the curse are described as “turning into sea foam” in the JP version. Localization as a whole kind of toned down how much water has an influence on the story.

Chapter 23

-Probably the pettiest gripe I have lol. As Arete is fading away from Azura’s arms, Azura has a different reaction in localization and Japanese. In localization, Azura says “Mother? Mother!” while a voice clip of her in-battle pain cries plays. In the JP, she says “*Sob... Sob*…! Mother... Mother...!”, while a voice clip of her crying plays. Her crying voice clip I don’t recall hearing anywhere else.

This is one of the few times in the you get to see Azura express a heavy and heartfelt emotion, since her rough childhood caused her to remain guarded and stoic around everyone. The equivalents to this scene in other routes is her death scene in Birthright, and her crying with Corrin over Ryoma’s death in Conquest; a normally unflinching and aloof character breaking down is a rarity, and indicates that the cause of it is something to take note of for the character as a whole. Localization softened this aspect, and I take issue with it, despite it probably seeming trivial to most other people.

Chapter 24

-When Corrin is questioning the phantom Mikoto, an exchange happens. In localization, part of it goes like this:

Corrin: But this can't be... Are you truly my mother?

Mikoto: I am. Even as a puppet of Anankos, my spirit at least remains my own.

Corrin: I... I believe you.

In the JP version, it goes like this:

Corrin: It can’t be... …Are you really my mother?

Mikoto: Yes... I became an Invisible servant, controlled by the Invisible King... Even so, I am your mother.

Corrin: …………

Again, a minor thing that I don’t personally have issue with, but replacing Corrin’s silence with an admittance of belief could make some believe she has “reverted” back to being too naïve.

Chapter 26

-While Gunter is relaying his past, an exchange happens. In localization, it goes like this:

Gunter: I ask myself that, every day. I cannot understand the minds of royals. To you all, we commoners are little more than pawns in your schemes... Or weeds to be killed on a whim.

Corrin: That's not true...

Xander: Is that how people view the royalty?

Ryoma: Such an impression would easily breed powerful resentment...

In the JP version, Corrin, Xander and Ryoma don’t say anything. They just remain silent.

Endgame

-Not a major problem so much as a general thing about the game, but I can think of like... at least three memes that Treehouse inserted into the localization. Now I like memes, but there is no better way to date your media nowadays. One of them was Kana’s “That’s dragon for I love you” which tbh, is kind of cute and isn’t the most well known meme so I guess I can let it slide. Another is Felicia saying “I had one job!” when she messes up in the dining hall, which isn’t that big of a deal since the dining hall is very optional.

The last one I can think of is why I put this specific grievance here, and it’s during Corrin’s speech before facing Anankos.

Corrin: We won't back down! This is my... This is our destiny! Ready your weapons! Fight for your friends! With the Seal of Flames... With the Fire Emblem on our side! We fight for our world!!

Yeah, she says “Fight for your friends” which is everyone’s favorite Ike line from Brawl. Now, this isn’t even a totally inaccurate translation either, but it kind of just... makes the moment funny for the player when it’s supposed to be commanding and serious I guess.

But yeah, not the most important issue by far, but something I’d thought to mention. Hell, it’s not even that bad compared to how they made Peri’s, Effie’s and Hisame’s quirks into exaggerated and tired jokes. And the Beruka-Saizo support. Never forget.

-When Azura and Corrin are by the lake and discuss the latter’s plans to rule, Corrin says this in localization:

Corrin: I'm going to make Valla a wonderful place! In honor of the true last king and for Queen Arete. And everyone who fought... I promise to make them all proud.

In the JP version, she says this:

Corrin: I’ll make the Invisible Kingdom (Valla) into a great land. For the previous monarch, Queen Shenmei (Arete)… And for all of my allies who fought beside me. I promise.

So, JP version only mentions Arete as the reigning monarch of Valla. Which makes sense, cuz unless there was some wild “keeping the bloodline pure” shenanigans in Valla, Arete being the Queen keeps in line with what we know about the rest of Valla’s history. Arete was royalty from birth, as was her sister Mikoto. Arete is the one who passed down Lost in Thoughts and the pendant to Azura.

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13uswntimagines · 3 years

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Chanukah party (USWNT x Baby!Reader)

This isn’t a request but @literaryhedgehog and I thought it would be fun. The basic premise is that reader is at camp during Chanukah, and the team feels bad (especially Lindsey) so they throw her a party. (thank you @notmia101 for betaing this for us).

You smiled at Alyssa as she described her winter plans after training camp. How she was going to visit her sister and her family for Christmas. How they were hoping for snow and how they were going to kill an innocent tree and desecrate its body with lights for their amusement. Her words, not yours. It was a game she and the other girls played every year, trying to make their Christmas plans sound as horror-movie-ish as possible. It was a way of trying to make fun of themselves so you could share the amusement and join in laughing at them.

But despite their efforts, a little piece of you always felt left out because you couldn’t (wouldn’t?) participate. See, you were one of the few who didn’t celebrate Christmas. You were proud of your Jewish heritage, even if your family wasn’t the most ~religious~. But you were proud of the culture you had been raised in. You held its traditions very near to your heart and weren’t AT ALL bitter that the rest of the team had time designated to visit their family during their winter holidays while you still had training camp through the third week of December.

You were kinda zoning out because you could only take so much of their cookie baking, their stalkerish man that watched kids while they slept, and their hiding of a stupid stuffed toy you were sure would give you nightmares (who the fuck thought having an ‘elf’ stalk your family all month was cute?!?!? Capitalism was a weird man). (Though you may or may not have paid attention to Lindsey’s plan to dress Ferguson like a little elf…)

“What about you kid?” Tobin asked, nudging you out of your daydream.

“What?” You shook your head, making everyone around you laugh.

“Do you have plans for the holidays?” Lindsey repeated, her smile showing off her dimples.

“Oh, um. Chanukah started a few days ago. It’s cool, they have an app with a menorah and everything. My family has been face timing me most days, but it will be over before training ends.” You shrugged, hoping they couldn’t see how much being away from your family during this time of year sucked (though you were glad to be included on the camp roster).

Most of the veteran's jaws dropped, how had they not known that you were missing something so important to you? How had US Soccer overlooked a holiday (and inadvertently given you an ultimatum- celebrate or make the national team).

“Then why did they schedule training camp this week?” Tobin mumbled. Again you shrugged.

“There’s 23 of you and only one of me… it’s really not that big of a deal,” you smiled briefly and gave the same speech you had given since middle school, “It’s not like the ‘Jewish Christmas’ even though it happens around the same time some years, my family doesn’t even exchange presents, so I’m really just missing the party they’re throwing on the 18th.”

“That still isn’t fair though. I mean, we get Christmas off automatically, even if we don’t celebrate it!” Christen huffed, throwing her hands up.

“I mean, this isn’t like a new thing. We’re always at camp during this time. And next year the holiday starts in November, so it’s not something that can consistently be scheduled around. I guess it’s just a sacrifice I have to make to be the best right?” You said earnestly, shaking your head. You knew all of the arguments, you had heard them for all of your life.

“But-“ Emily started to protest, but before she could get the words out you cut her off. “Don’t make a big deal guys, it’s fine. Really,”

The team stared at you for a few seconds, several women opening and closing their mouths several times. You shifted uncomfortably under their gaze, breathing a sigh of relief when your phone rang, glad to have an excuse to get out of this situation.

“Ok so we’re totally going to make a big deal out of this,” Lindsey said turning back around to face the team the second you were out the door.

“I’m guessing you have a plan to woo your girl?” Emily smirked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“It’s not to. No. We are doing this as a team to be supportive of our teammate who is part of a traditionally marginalized culture that we need to be more supportive of,” Lindsey grumbled sternly, smiling when Christen nodded in return. “I’m googling “Chanukah for Dummies” right now.

They were going to make this camp different from the others (and if she got to impress you that was just a bonus).

…..

“Umm, why does it smell like something is burning?” Becky asked, walking through the hotel corridor towards the dining room.

“Because Latkes are apparently more difficult to make than I expected,” Kelley said, tossing what looked like a stack of burned hockey pucks into the trash. “I didn’t realize the whole room was going to smell like fried food- do you think they’re going to fine me when we check out?”

“If they fine you, they better fine Em too. The stench from such a little jar is kind of amazing,” Lindsey huffed.

“What did she do, get her sardines or something?” Becky asked, shaking her head, remembering the smell that she couldn’t quite place.

“No. Something called ‘Gefilte fish’”.

“But isn’t that usually for Passover?” Kelley asked, looking up from where she was trying to scrape burned potatoes off her pan.

“They said it was traditional, isn’t that what we’re going for?” Emily huffed, pouting. Lindsey rolled her eyes at her best friend.

“I’ve got music!” Chrystal called, walking through the door in a star-patterned sweater. “It turns out there are not a whole lot of Chanukah songs. There’s a Spotify playlist that’s only 3 hours long, or so, so I supplemented it with a lot of Leonard Cohen and Paul Simon.”

“And I brought the sour cream and applesauce as requested!” Sam called, walking in after her, “also some apple juice and honey bourbon. I know apples and honey are a thing for Rosh Hashana, so I thought maybe we could make some cocktails?”

“I won’t tell coach if you don’t,” Kelley said taking the bottle and pouring herself a shot. “Someone else needs to take over the latke making. My attempts have all either looked like lefse, hashbrowns or just burned.”

“Lefse?”

“I had an ex-girlfriend from Minnesota. It was a potato tortilla thing her family sent her at thanksgiving. The point here is that someone else needs to cook or we are just going to be eating sour cream and applesauce on their own.”

“We could make french fries?” Rose suggested tentatively.

“With bacon and cheese! Those are the best,” Emily exclaimed, only to have Lindsey (gently) slap the back of her head.

“No, Sonnett. She can’t have bacon and I don’t think she’s allowed to have cheese and meat on the same plate…”

“I think if we just batter potato pieces in egg and flour and fry them it would taste nice with the apple sauce and sour cream. And we’ve made french fries before so it won’t be so much of a… learning curve. Though you did a great try, Kelley!” Rose said, patting Kelley’s arm.

“You guys are useless. Did you even look at a recipe?” Megan shook her head.

“If you think it’s so easy you try it.” Kelley scoffed. Megan raised her eyebrow at the woman, stealing the spatula from the defender's hand.

“Tasty made here we come,”

*****

“Happy Chanukah!” came from all around as you walked in. Lindsey was very proud. Not only had she gotten the team on track and ensured that they had all of the stuff google said would make the perfect Chanukah celebration; she had also kept you off their trail until this moment. The shock on your face made all the work on their day off entirely worth it.

The room was decorated in tinsel with a shiny plastic menorah in the center of the table. Several people were wearing ugly sweaters with different “decorations” taped on. A sign on the back wall said “We survived, let’s eat!” Lindsey had decided against hanging up the posters Rose and Mal made saying “Stick it to the (ro)Man!” and “MaccaBEe mine.” The first one because she wasn’t sure it was appropriate, the second one because she knew it wasn’t.

“Ooo who brought the hotdog of the sea?” You asked, biting your lip to suppress a giggle as you walked over to the table to see the food on display.

“What?” Lindsey’s eyes tried to follow yours, utterly confused. They didn’t get hotdogs. They most certainly weren’t on the list that Chanukah for dummies had given her.

You smiled softly and shook your head, pointing to the tan balls that Emily had provided.

“That’s what my siblings and I call it during Passover. Gefilte fish is kinda a love it or hate it thing…” you trailed off, scrunching your nose just slightly.

“And you’re not a fan?” Lindsey smirked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Umm, I plead the fifth,” You mumbled, shaking your head slightly. It wasn’t your favorite item in the world.

“That was all Emily,” Kelley snorted, clapping you on the back, and you grinned devilishly back at her.

“Well, it was very nice of her to be so thoughtful. She can try a piece with me,”

Emily cringed at the idea, but nodded nonetheless. It was your party and if eating the smelly thing out of a jar made you happy, then that’s exactly what she would do. (She also stealthily shot Lindsey the middle finger while you were surveying the rest of the items on the tables).

“Honestly the sufganiyot is my favorite,” you said, taking a step towards the platter, your lips ticking up at Lindsey’s adorable confused face. “sorry, the donuts,” you clarified, picking up one of the many powdered sugar-covered donuts in the stack, inspecting it to see what kind it was. The Jelly ones were particularly important for the celebration.

Lindsey blushed a little. “We didn’t know if you wanted jelly or custard,” She said hesitantly, watching as your eyes got impossibly brighter.

“Both are amazing, thank you,” You smiled softly at the midfielder, brushing a stay bit of powdered sugar off her pink cheeks. You held her gaze for a moment before seeming realizing you had an audience, and turning towards the rest of the team. “thank all of you,”

It wasn’t the traditional Chanukah you usually shared with your family, but the friends who had become your family made it special nonetheless.

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #literalhedgehog

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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YYH Recaps: Episode 1, Surprised to be Dead

Hello, all you hypothetical readers! It's a beautiful spring day and I have a free afternoon ahead of me, so what better time to start another massive project while I guilty stuff my other WIPs deep into the depths of my hard drive? Yeah. Iffy life choices aside, someone mentioned a few weeks back that they'd love for me to recap a show I have more positive things to say about than negative (RIP RWBY) and ever since Netflix announced that their live-action adaptation of Yu Yu Hakusho is in the works, I've been itching for a re-watch of the anime. With the RWBY hiatus underway, it seemed like the perfect time to fulfill both desires.

Before we begin though, I'd like to touch on a few things that are going to influence this project.

First, YYH is near and dear to my heart. Written by Yoshihiro Togashi in the early 1990s and later adapted for an American audience by Funimation, I had the pleasure of experiencing this story five different ways: as a serialized tale in Shonen Jump, a binge read when I had the money to buy the manga, tiny snippets of the anime on Adult Swim late at night — don't tell my parents ;) — as an after-school treat on Toonami, and then years later as a re-watch when I introduced it to a friend (who, in turn, blessed me by having us watch Fullmetal Alchemist next). I used to keep a Hiei bookmark in everything I was reading, the spirit gun made it into our witch-wolf-space adventures on the playground (middle school was wild), and there was a long period of my life where I tried very hard to teach myself to stand with my hands behind my back, precisely as Genkai does. Spoiler alert: I failed. So to say I love the series is... a little bit of an understatement. I bring this up simply as a way of demonstrating that there's more than a bit of nostalgia attached to YYH for me and that will inevitably cloud my reading of it. How can it not? So that's just something to keep in mind as I work through a series that, like any having hit its 30th birthday, has its outdated, flawed, and other questionable aspects.

Second, but very much connected to the first point, is that these are pretty casual recaps. I summarize and extrapolate, focusing primarily on plot and dialogue (but with the occasional cinematography aspect tossed in). I'm not conducting research on the cultural history here — something that will come up at least once in this episode — I'm not arguing an overarching thesis, and I've never been someone who focuses on the author/production/trivia of a series. I'm here for the story as the story is presented to the viewer. If you've read my RWBY Recaps, this will function precisely the same way, with the only difference being I'm engaging with a finished text as opposed to an ongoing one, so there’s a lot less, “Maybe ___ will happen” theorizing going on.

Third, I obviously recommend that you watch the show yourself (you can find it on YouTube!), but you don't have to know the series to follow along. As these massive paragraphs attest, I tend to be both detailed and verbose, so we'll be covering every major plot point — and most of the smaller ones too.

Finally, I'm working from the dub. I know, I know, the horror. But it's what I grew up on and, honestly, I think it's superior to the sub. YYH's dubbing is in a class all its own and to this day there are very few shows that compare to it. Trust me, it's a good call.

That's enough of the boring chit-chat though. Let's get started!

Our very first episode "Surprised to be Dead" opens on a crowded street. We see lots of traffic, people going about their business, and a pedestrian crossing sign that, crucially, turns red. This is our normality and, like in every genre story, you need to break that normality at some point so that the protagonists can go on their fantastical/supernatural/science fiction journey. YYH eases us into things by first breaking the normality of an everyday afternoon: there's a screech of tires, quick shots of a man pushing a child out of the way of an oncoming car, and then his back is hitting the windshield. We begin this story with a horrible — but otherwise mundane — car crash.

Now, these flashes alone have a fair bit to unpack. Despite later getting a brief shot of the man's scared face right before he's hit, the moment's focus is really on the child. He's the one foregrounded in the initial, slow-mo shot. He's the one who appears in color while the man is kept in shadow. This isn't just a hit, it's a rescue. The camera is also careful to follow the soccer ball this kid was playing with (more on that later in the episode), with it flying through the air as the man is hit and bouncing to a stop in the street, acting as the dramatic finish. It's childhood! It's innocence! It's play on a sunny afternoon! And it's all gone wrong.

This moment is chaotic and even a bit confusing. Not in the sense of what's happening — that is quite obviously a guy being hit by a car — but who the victims are, how precisely this came about, or even why we're meant to care about this beyond a generic capacity to feel for other human (fictional) beings... that's all removed. And it works. As the crash takes place, the camera pans across the stunned crowd and we, the viewer, become a part of that crowd. They don't know what precisely is going on either. We're all just horrified onlookers as a sudden tragedy takes place. We're all watching the same show.

So everyone realizes this guy has been hit. People are staring in shock and someone calls for an ambulance. We see the driver fall to his knees in the street, distraught, shakily saying, "I didn't mean to..." It's a very serious and emotional scene that —

— is immediately tempered by this guy waking up, complete with a cute 'pop!' sound effect when he opens his eyes.

This is YYH's brand, this Very Serious Circumstances skillfully interwoven with casual indifference/comedy. It's admittedly far from a unique brand, but it's an excellent choice given that this is the same attitude that will drive 99% of our protagonist's interaction with the world.

Speaking of said protagonist, our guy wakes up, opens his eyes, and realizes that he's floating. There's a great, disorientating shot from his perspective where everything is upside down, causing him to nearly fall out of the air. Well would you look at that, he's as confused as we are. It's our audience surrogate!

A narrator says, "And so it all begins. This boy's name is Yusuke, he's fourteen years old, and he's supposed to be the hero of this story. But oddly enough, he's dead."

Game of Thrones might have made it popular, but YYH did it better.

(Yeah, yeah, I know one death kick-starts the journey and the other is a shocking twist. Just let me have this.)

Now, it's a weird introduction, right? At least at the end. The announcement that change has occurred, a name, an age... that all checks out. But "supposed to be the hero"? What the hell is that “supposed to” mean? Our narrator gives us the easy, surface answer: "But oddly enough, he's dead." We're capitalizing here on the audience's expectation that death ends a character's journey and though they may have been a hero previously, they can no longer be one moving forward. That function within the story has passed. So it's this intriguing question of, "What kind of hero do you have when that hero is dead from the start?" but as we'll see soon, there's an additional meaning here of, "How can Yusuke be the hero?" As this premiere sets up, Yusuke doesn't act like the hero is “supposed to” act.

Until he saved this kid.

But right now he's just confused: "Okay, this is weird. Stupid weird."

Two EMTs arrive on the scene and are hilariously useless. You know how in any medical drama a doctor will stop CPR after a couple of seconds because obviously you're not going to spend half the episode on realism? Well, that's this only a thousand times worse. One guy just looks at the kid and announces he's fine except for some bumps and bruises. Meanwhile, the kid is sobbing.

"Well, at least one of them is," replies the other EMT, because I guess he can tell Yusuke is beyond hope without taking a pulse or anything? "I hate cleanup," he complains as they load his body onto a stretcher because that's? An empathetic response to have??

Honestly this scene is wild.

Yusuke is understandably upset that he's, you know, dead and all. He starts hounding the EMTs who, unable to hear him, just go about their business of taking the kid and his body to the hospital. "You think you can just do whatever you want because you have that stupid uniform on? You can't just write me off. Listen to me!" and Yusuke tries to punch one of the EMTs in the head, resulting in him floating right through.

What a great way to introduce your protagonist's personality. We see here that when things go wrong Yusuke's default emotion is anger and it starts creeping in even before he thinks the others are ignoring him: "Stupid weird." He has problems with authority — "You think you can just do whatever you want because you have that stupid uniform on?" — is used to others listening when he gets angry — "You can't just write me off!" — and is poised to use violence at the slightest provocation. Yusuke is a guy who, right now at least, is ready to punch first and ask questions later.

As Yusuke floats back up into the air and the ambulance drives away, he finally cools down enough to try and think his way out of this. "It's not like this is the first time you've been in a jam,” he thinks. Yusuke recalls that yeah, something was different about today...

...he actually went to school.

Catch me laughing that this idiot boy equates the weirdness of him dying with going to school. Good lord.

Anyway, this jumpstarts our flashback. We open on a generic, anime middle school (that always feels like a high school to me) where the principal is calling for Yusuke through the loud speaker. Oooo someone’s in trouble! We follow a young girl up to the rooftop and she gets a classic hair-blowing-in-the-wind moment to establish that she's our love interest. Meet Keiko Yukimura.

Keiko finds Yusuke hanging out and immediately starts lecturing him for trying to chew gum and refusing to wear the boys' uniform. "Oh, give me a break, Keiko. I look better in green." Note that it's here we learn her name and it's an easy, casual way to introduce it. I bring this up because Yusuke's introduction via our narrator is very much... not that. It's an on your nose statement about his name, age, and importance to the story, and if you're just starting the show in 2021, it might come across as a rather armature move. Like something out of a kid's show, perhaps. Yet here we see that this was a deliberate choice, considering that YYH is capable of introducing character information naturally when it wants to.

This moment also tells us that Yusuke cares a great deal about his image. More on that in a bit. Because Keiko isn't finished her list of grievances yet, going on to say that his attendance record has hurt their entire class, hurt her as class representative, and if he keeps going down this path he won't even graduate middle school. "Sometimes I think you don't care about anyone but yourself and then you don't even do that right!"

They're legit complaints. Too bad Yusuke is busy looking up Keiko's skirt.

Yeeeeah. Sadly, this is common for anime, particularly a 90s anime like YYH. Even presumably more progressive series like My Hero Academia feature characters like Mineta, whose entire personality is being a pervert, and the creation of abilities that "require" kids/young women to be scantily clad. See: Yaoyorozu. YYH is no different in this regard, with various forms of sexual harassment functioning as a shorthand for how much Yusuke secretly likes Keiko. "Boys will be boys," right? Obviously not.

Like so many others series, the creators get away with it because they’re framing it as a bad thing. It's totally fine because look, Keiko slaps him! This is teaching the viewer how wrong this behavior is. Never mind that this is clearly an established habit between them, that Yusuke laughs off Keiko's discomfort, and that the whole scene is meant to be funny for the viewer. That's the real purpose here; it’s not a PSA on harassment.

That, and to establish the long-suffering love Keiko has for Yusuke in turn, largely stemming from a life-long friendship. "Dumb boy! He hasn't grown up a bit since he was four years old." We see that Keiko's early interactions with Yusuke have given her insight that others lack. As she heads down from the roof she runs into two girls hiding around the corner, too scared to come out lest "the great Urameshi" set his sights on them. Isn't Keiko terrified of what he might do to her? "Or worse, what others might say of it?" Like any classic high school middle school setting, one's reputation is king. Yusuke cares about how others see him — maintaining that tough boy attitude — and the girls care more about what the rest of the school might think of Keiko's interactions with him than the presumed harm Yusuke could do to her. They heard he can summon 2,000 men with just a whistle and that he "kills for fun!" But that means nothing in the face of people talking about you. Despite being one of the most popular girls in school, Keiko is the outsider here via her disinterest in what other people think.

The animation changes here, giving us a good look at how the girls picture Yusuke: tough, scowling, surrounded by shadows, and backed by an entire army.

In contrast, we've already seen what Yusuke is really like.

Keiko laughs the image off too. Yusuke is more like a "lamb" than a killer and besides, he couldn't order around two people, let alone two hundred. "He doesn't have many friends."

"That's not what I heard," says one of the girls.

"Yeah," goes the other. "I think we would know."

Again, rumors rule here, with whispers in the hall considered more reliable than someone who interacts with Yusuke on a daily basis. Keiko doesn’t have a hope of changing their minds.

Oh, as a side note, I love that they gave Keiko Miyazaki-esque hair. It's very emotive.

Yusuke escapes outside where the principal is still calling for him to report to his office. He overhears a conversation around the corner and we cut to two boys, one of which is showing a wallet off to the other. He explains that some bully tried to rough him up, but he said he was Urameshi's cousin and the bully took off, dropping his wallet in the process. The guy's friend is impressed, but what is he going to do if Yusuke ever finds out he lied? Not to worry, he says, that "blockhead" would probably think it's true even if he did somehow hear.

Yusuke, obviously, does hear about this and he, also obviously, does not believe this guy is his cousin. He looms ominously and they scurry up against a wall, terrified and offering him the wallet as an apology.

"You think I want your money?" Yusuke yells.

YYH is, in many respects, a rather simple story, but I appreciate the hints of complexity in these otherwise straightforward interactions. It's not that this guy used Yusuke's name to steal a wallet, he used it as a form of protection against another bully — a far more sympathetic motivation. It's not that Yusuke's fearsome reputation has resulted in any genuine respect because once people think they're safe they reveal how little they think of his intelligence — he's a "blockhead." And Yusuke, though intimidating and violent, is not your average, schoolyard bully. He doesn't care about money, only the insult and the damage this guy using his name might have done to his reputation. There's a little more nuance here than you might otherwise expect.

Also, note how dark the boys' standard uniforms are and how much they blend into the rest of the world. Yusuke, as our protagonist, stands out in his bright clothing. He was right, he does look better in green!

So he's ready to clobber this kid when one of the teachers arrive: Mr. Iwamoto.

Iwamoto demands to know what's going on, but the boys are too terrified to rat Yusuke out. Noticing the wallet on the ground, he assumes that Yusuke was after their money, something that greatly offends him: "Whatever!" Iwamoto goes on to say that, "No good weeds like you should have been plucked a long time ago," making it clear that he considers Yusuke a hopeless case. The positive aspects that Keiko sees, as well as the complexity the viewer sees — to say nothing of his introduction of saving a kid — aren’t considered here.

Notably, Iwamoto exists in part to show us what Yusuke could become. Not a teacher (he's obviously not attending school enough for that!), but a cynical man who is cruel for cruelty's sake. Yusuke is already barreling down that path, ignoring Keiko's advice, terrorizing other students, trying to punch EMTs, etc. If his life (or afterlife...) hadn't changed through that accident, this is the kind of person Yusuke might have grown up to be, and we can see that clearly in the visual parallels between them. Dark haired men dressed in green who scowl with ease and toss out cutting insults. Yusuke is staring his future in the face.

For now he walks off with a final shot, "You shouldn't talk. It makes you sound stupid." This time Yusuke makes it to the school's entrance and tries to enjoy his second attempt at chewing gum, but someone hits him in the back of the head.

"Okay, somebody's DEAD — ah. Sorry, old man."

"That's Mr. Takenaka to you."

Our principal has finally left the office and hunted down Yusuke for himself! Putting this interaction immediately after the one with Iwamoto allows the viewer to compare them. Yusuke might be irreverent towards his principal, but it's clear there's still some kind of respect between them. Yusuke only starts threatening because he doesn’t realize who hit him and once he does realize it's Takenaka, he immediately apologizes. That "old man" comes across as a teasing insult and Yusuke allows himself to be briefly dragged back towards school, rather than throwing a now classic punch. In turn, Takenaka cares enough about Yusuke to try and keep him on the straight and narrow. He utilizes Yusuke's preferred language — violence — but in a casual way, nonthreatening way: slight hit to the back of his head, noogie, pulling him along by the ear.

It's the sort of physicality we're used to seeing in media between a parent and child who are outwardly antagonistic, but actually share a deep bond. Takenaka is also careful to frame their return to his office as a "discussion," not a punishment, and offers Yusuke tea along with the conversation. Whereas Iwamoto considers Yusuke to be a "weed" that should have been plucked from their school long ago, Takenaka is determined to help Yusuke bloom.

If we're continuing the flower metaphor :D

Yusuke isn't in the mood to play along though. He gets away by using a fake ear, startling Takenaka when it unexpectedly pulls free. Yusuke escapes the school grounds and Takenaka, suffering a back twinge from his fall, can't chase after him. Poor guy. I understand that pain lol.

Yusuke heads home where we're introduced to his mother, Atsuko. Most notable in her first shot is the soft lighting that highlights her looks. We're not told how old she is here, but I believe she's around 28 — and she looks it, if not younger. Given that Yusuke is 14, that means Atsuko was a mom at his age. This is a quick and subtle way to tell us about Yusuke's home life. There are more overt details in this scene — it's at least lunchtime and Atsuko hasn't left her bed yet, she demands that Yusuke make her coffee instead of greeting him, it's all meant to imply (before we actually see) that she's an alcoholic — but her age is another way to highlight the broken household here. There's no partner in sight and she clearly had Yusuke as a teenager. He hasn't had a strong parental figure to take care of him. If anything, Yusuke is taking care of Atsuko here.

"Oh great, mother of the year!" basically sums things up.

Atsuko wants to know why Yusuke isn't in school and he says that everyone is pissing him off today, particularly with their preaching. "Dear, if you hate preaching so much you should live on your own... but you can't do that, can you?" Alongside a rough upbringing, Yusuke is suffering from the common problem of being trapped in a dead-end life. He hates his school, his town, and coming home to find his mom hungover. Yusuke has no prospects and, outside of one principal, no one who is actively working to help him find some. Even the little things he hates, like being preached to, are unavoidable because if you want to live on your own, that requires money. Good luck pulling that off as a middle schooler whose only skill is street fighting!

Yusuke walks off in a huff, literally shouting in a street about what a bad day he's having (and hilariously scaring off pedestrians in the process). His shout brings trouble though. A couple guys appear to ambush him, their boss close behind. The music increases the tension, Yusuke's expression is serious, and we even get a Dutch angle thrown into the mix.

For any who don't know, the Dutch angle is a popular film technique to establish that something is wrong. There's tension in the scene, something uneasy is at play, and the world is now literally off center. It's perhaps most famously used in Do The Right Thing to establish the friction between an Italian-American pizzeria and the predominantly African American neighborhood it's based in.

But it's also used a great deal in horror as a way to say: yup, shit just got real. Scary real.

This Dutch angle introduces a character you may not appreciate at first, but absolutely should: Kazuma Kuwabara.

He's initially the comic relief and that's clear in his introduction. Within seconds we move from that intimidating arrival to, well, seeing him. To be clear, I've got nothing against redheads with big chins, but compared to Yusuke's design, Kuwabara is meant to be the funny looking one. His threat level plummets the moment we get a look at his face, especially in a series that will occasionally use looks as a (supposed) measure of intelligence.

Also, Kuwabara is dressed in light blue so, like Yusuke, we know he's important!

Any assumptions that his appearance isn’t meant to imply a goofy, embarrassing personality are put to rest when Kuwabara starts rambling about how they last time they fought Yusuke just got a cheap shot in and he'll definitely win this time. Yeah, he won't. Yusuke is thrilled by this diversion though and we get a shot of him looking almost as creepy as Keiko's friends think he is. Whatever else might be said about Yusuke, he is absolutely a monster in a fight.

Which we see here. If anyone picked up the series without knowing this was a fighting anime, they'll realize it now. Yusuke's choreography is stylized to show off his skill: he disappears with a 'whoosh' and dark lines to suggest inhuman speed,

attacking Kuwabara with a knee to the face, utilizes flying kicks, lands perfect, precision punches, and ends it all with the toe-tip landing we've come to expect of all powerful fighters. Kuwabara never even got a hit in.

Happy as a clam now, Yusuke wanders off whistling and Kuwabara's friends are left to pick up the pieces. AKA, his likely broken bones. I love that they're legit friends though and not just nameless goons for the sake of giving Kuwabara a small gang (though their names won't come up until later). "That makes 0 wins an 156 loses!" one of them cries, trying to get Kuwabara to stop ending up in the hospital, probably. We establish that Kuwabara is The Most Dramatic Ever when he pulls his broken body into a seated position, shouting, "No! I almost had him that time!"

Then he passes out.

Kuwabara, honey, you obviously did not almost have him, but god bless you for the outlook. The most optimistic thing on this Earth is a well-loved Golden Retriever, but Kuwabara comes in at a very close second.

With his dream to one day beat Yusuke in combat established, we cut to Yusuke wandering the street where the episode opened. "Okay, I'm remembering" he says in a voiceover. "After that I met the kid."

The soccer ball reappears as it rolls to a stop at Yusuke's feet. He grabs it and immediately starts yelling at the kid. Horrible protagonist, right? Well, Yusuke is trying to instill in him the danger of using this street as a playground, a worry the viewer already knows is 100% justified. “Listen, kid, that’s dangerous! There are cars going by that will splatter you into the pavement!” It's one of those quick moments where we get to enjoy Yusuke's duality: he's someone who is nearly making a toddler cry, but for rather understandable reasons. He's got the right idea, but needs to go about it in a more mature manner.

Which is precisely what he attempts to do. Sort of. Yusuke changes gears, though whether it's a more "mature" route is certainly up for debate lol. He tries entertaining the kid instead, raising and lowering the soccer ball to reveal goofy faces.

When these fail to impress, Yusuke goes full out by stuffing the ball into his pants, pushing his nose up with a pair of chopsticks he got from god knows where, and generally just putting on a display.

So Yusuke cares very deeply about his reputation... but only when it comes to those who are an established part of his life. Keiko, Mr. Takenaka, and the other kids at school all need to maintain a particular image of Yusuke, one that he's carefully cultivated. But random pedestrians on the street? Who cares about them? Let them talk.

This shows us that Yusuke does indeed have priorities over his own, selfish goals. Namely, the happiness of some kid is more important to him than looking "cool" for a bunch of strangers. Lots of characters with Yusuke's surface attitude would sneer at the idea of degrading themselves for — their words — some brat. But Yusuke, as we constantly see, actually does have that heart of gold. “Well, if all else fails I can still make kids happy.”

Although... I'm not sure what to make of his display itself. I have the distinct sense that there's something prejudiced here that I'm not able to fully articulate, what with the chopsticks, slanted eyes, bald head, and the like, though to be entirely frank I don't have enough knowledge of Japan's history to say precisely what it might be. Or, really, whether it exists at all. Just something to chew on.

What I am sure about though is the importance of having the child label Yusuke as monster — "Yeah, monster! — but in a delighted manner. Yusuke is indeed some kind a monster, someone who disappoints adults and terrifies his classmates, a demon fighter on the streets too, but here that identity is reworked into something positive.

Having successful secured a laugh, Yusuke tells the kid — calmly this time — to go play elsewhere. The toddler stares up at him with the blank expression only kids can manage.

Well, kids and whatever headspace I'm in after writing these metas.

To absolutely no one's surprise except Yusuke's, the kid does not go elsewhere. Instead, he continues kicking the ball down the street, causing Yusuke to exclaim, “Dammit, what’s the use? The kid can get smashed by a car for all I care!” Liar, liar.

The picture becomes desaturated as the kid kicks the ball and it flies into the street, time slowing down to show it landing precisely in the middle of the road. Yusuke again yells for him to stay put, but when has a toddler ever listened? He begins to walk into the road as our driver arrives, speeding, swerving, and paying more attention to the girl at his side than what's in front of him.

This time, we see the accident from the front with both Yusuke and the kid presented equally.

There's a cut to black and when we return we're in the present, Yusuke floating above the policemen now investigating the scene. “So that’s it? I’m roadkill?” As Yusuke realizes he's dead, specifically that he's a ghost, a voice goes,

"Bingo! Bingo! You win the prize!"

A woman has appeared who is quite obviously othered by the standards of the episode so far. Unlike the greens, blues, and browns of the series' modern clothes, she's dressed in hot pink kimono with blue hair to match. She's also, you know, floating on an oar.

“I didn’t expect you to figure it out so quickly," she says, referring to Yusuke's revelation that he's dead. Apparently, those who meet unexpected and/or violent ends tend to take some time coming to terms with their demise. It's a nice acknowledgment of Yusuke's intelligence in an interaction that's otherwise... not great for his self-esteem.

Meaning, this woman is about to drag him lol.

She introduces herself as Botan, pilot of the River Styx and guider of souls to the afterlife. You might also know her as the Grim Reaper.

(Hey, RWBY fans: I originally wrote that as Grimm Reaper 🤦‍♀️)

It's an claim Yusuke takes issue with because 1. Botan is too pretty to be the Grim Reaper and 2. If she was really some god of death she'd be taking this much more seriously, not laughing and saying, "Bingo!" For the audience this does two things. First, it acknowledges our own expectations and validates them. Yusuke's world isn't so far removed from our own that he takes Botan's looks and personality at face value, he also expected a skeleton with a scythe. So don't worry, all the weird stuff in this series is weird to our protagonist too. They'll be explanations. Or, even if there’s not, you’re not wrong for being surprised.

Second, it sets up the very common theme in YYH of undermining those common assumptions again and again and again. We've already seen it with Yusuke, wherein characters who look and act a certain way are, supposedly, destined to be that person and nothing more. Yusuke is meant to be just a "weed," a dumb, violent, angry loser who goes nowhere in life... but we already know he's more than that. Botan is supposed to be scary and serious, but she says nah, I want to be cute and bubbly instead. No character in YYH embodies who they're "supposed" to be when you look past those surface characterizations. They play the part of archetypes — and do keep certain parts of their expected personalities — but they're also far more well-rounded than that. Which yeah, is something most people expect from any story nowadays, but YYH is particularly adept at making you think you're watching Simple Show A only to turn around and surprise you with More Complex Show B.

It's great, trust me.

So Yusuke is pissed that Botan isn't adhering to those expectations, in the same way that he works hard to validate others expectations of him. He doesn't know how to deal with someone challenging his world view yet. Rather than angering Botan though, she just nods and says that this response makes sense for him. “Rather than being scared, or surprised, you yell a lot and tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about." Taking out a notebook, she quickly summarizes everything we learned in the flashback — minus Yusuke's complexities: he's fourteen, in middle school, is ill-tempered, violent, hates authority, and is a horrible student.

Typically, Yusuke responds by getting angry and trying to snatch the booklet out of her hands, only for Botan to pull it out of his reach, laughing. The tables have turned! Rather than being surrounded by people who cower at Yusuke's imposed authority, he now finds himself faced with someone who laughs at his transparent attempts to take control of the situation.

Calming down, Yusuke wants to know if the kid he saved is really alright and Botan offers to let him see for himself. That offer produces Yusuke's first, genuine smile.

They fly to the hospital where a doctor is in the process of giving the kid a clean bill of health, his mother crying with relief.

That's enough for Yusuke. “Alright, Botan, I’ve got no regrets, so you can take me to hell or wherever it is I’m going.”

That tells you all you need to know about Yusuke's self-worth, despite his bad boy attitude. His life is a dead-end as far as he can see and most of those around him haven't done anything to dissuade him of that idea. He says he doesn't care if the kid lives or dies, but then instinctively saves him. Post his death, Yusuke doesn't have anything he considers a regret, or anything he'd like to do before he leaves, like saying goodbye to a loved one. Oh, he's also pretty sure he's going to hell and has resigned himself to that without a fight.

Uplifting!

Botan just laughs though, saying that she's actually here to offer Yusuke an "ordeal" that could bring him back to life. See, he wasn't supposed to die today — let alone die saving a kid — and frankly they don't know what to do with him. It's another neat summary of what we've already learned: Yusuke is a far more complicated case than the afterlife assumed and now, when push comes to shove, deciding whether he belongs in heaven or hell is... muddled.

There's a fantastic story there about the problems with an afterlife that reduces a person's entire life to a few surface characteristics recorded in a book, refusing to acknowledge the context of their situation, or their capacity for change. “Run someone with your credentials a thousand times and they never would have saved a kid like that." Except, of course, Yusuke did save him, so those "credentials" are suspect, to say the least. However, YYH is not a story that explores these issues. Instead, I recommend you watch this!

Rather than being upset at the afterlife's low opinion of him (because let's be real, Yusuke shares it), he latches onto a little detail Botan let slip. If he wasn't supposed to die today... then was the kid?

Mmm... no. Actually, without the chaos of Yusuke jumping into the road, the driver would have swerved at the last second and the kid would have not only lived, but actually come out with one less scrape.

So Yusuke is obviously upset by this news! I would be too!! Holy shit, hang onto the "it's the thought that counts" message with everything you've got.

Also, don't think too much about the fact that the afterlife apparently knows exactly what will happen to people, down to how many cuts they accumulate in an accident. Also, don't think too much about where the afterlife foreseeing the crash begins and the unexpectedness of Yusuke interfering ends. That way lies madness. This will never come up again, so just let it go.

Sorry, 2013 me hijacked the post for a second.

As said, Yusuke is understandably upset by this revelation and as he fumes I'm reminded that this series likes to pull some amazing expressions.

Botan reiterates that it's all fine because Yusuke can come back to life. Weren't you listening? He should feel honored, in fact, considering that an offer like this only arrives every 100 years or so. Well, that explains why all of humanity isn't grappling with people coming back to life on the daily. One person every generation isn't going to cause much of a stir.

However, instead of jumping at the chance Yusuke announces that Botan is just like the teachers at school: she doesn't know what she's talking about. “You said yourself my life was kind of pathetic, right?” he says, going on to explain that everyone will be happier now that he's dead. His school won't have to deal with his behavior, Keiko won't have to nag him, and his mom will be able to party whenever she wants. It's a win-win for everyone involved.

Hmm, this feels familiar.

Don't worry, Yusuke doesn't need to experience a whole alternate reality to get the message.

“I’m sorry you feel that way at such an early age," Botan says and she is sorry, because despite her teasing nature that's a legitimately horrifying thing to believe. Yusuke won't budge though and after a little back-and-forth Botan leaves, telling Yusuke he should think it over while visiting his wake. She'll come back once he decides what to do.

“Do you have worms in your ears, lady? I did decide!” but Botan is long gone.

We cut to that night where Yusuke has indeed decided to attend his own wake. Maybe because of Botan's advice, maybe because he's just morbidly curious. We’re not given insight into the decision.

Atsuko is a mess, to put it mildly, not dressed for the occasion and sitting slumped against the way, staring vacantly as the guests offer their condolences. Yusuke is surprised by the fact that his entire class is here, but quickly writes them off when he sees two of the boys laughing. I'm on the fence about this detail, which I'll unpack in just a second.

First though, Yusuke sees Keiko exiting the house, inconsolable in her grief. She collapses on the ground with her two friends trying to offer comfort, despite the fact that they had nothing good to say about Yusuke himself. Good on them.

Before he can think too long on this though, Yusuke is distracted by Kuwabara's arrival. Unlike Keiko's crying, he expresses his grief through yelling. Specifically, yelling at Yusuke. For dying. For daring to "run away." His own friends are physically holding him back as he charges into the wake, screaming, “Who am I gonna fight now, huh? Who am I gonna fight?" It's not really about the fighting, of course. At least, not the fighting alone. "You’re supposed to be here for me," Kuwabara finishes, the punch he's thrown at Yusuke's photo going limp and catching his first tear.

You know, for all the goofy expressions, this show really is gorgeous. Just wait until we get to the fight animations.

Kuwabara's reaction is why I hesitate to write off the classmates like Yusuke has. Granted, we have no reason to believe that they care for him as Kuwabara does — they're nameless background characters defined only by their terror of "the great Urameshi" — but it's still a split second taken out of context. We don't know what they were laughing at, or if laughing is a part of their grief. God knows I personally laugh at the most inappropriate moments. If you tell me someone has just died there is a very good chance I will laugh awkwardly as I try to process that. It’s just a reflex. All of which I bring up not because these side characters are important, but because Yusuke's perception of his own worth is. The point of each of these moments is to show that those around him have always cared for him, even if Yusuke didn't notice. It's nice to think that extends to his classmates too. The variety likewise exists to show us how people grieve differently, with Kuwabara's friends not understanding that this is how he's working through the trauma: “This place is for mourning!” He is mourning, even if his way of mourning isn't as socially acceptable as Keiko's. So if screaming and throwing punches is valid, crying is valid, staring stoically in a drunk stupor is valid... why not laughter too?

Not likely, perhaps, but possible.

As an additional possibility to chew on, watching this premier again, it struck me how more emotional Kuwabara's scene is compared to Keiko's. Don't get me wrong, crying and calling Yusuke’s name gets the point across, but it's two seconds of generic grief compared to a much longer scene rife with intensity. When Kuwabara arrives the music swells and everyone is forced to pay attention to him. His grief is loud, violent, and given symbolism with his fist and the photo. There's more effort put into his reaction, frankly, so it wouldn't surprise me if fans started shipping them after this. That grief combined with an "enemies to lovers" possibility is a pretty potent mix. To be clear, Yusuke/Keiko is the (oh so obvious) canonical endgame and in the fandom Yusuke/Kuwabara can't compare to another slash ship that will turn up later, but this is a good example of how writers can craft some Very Gay Scenes without realizing it. When you have the girl crying prettily for a second and the guy absolutely losing his mind over Yusuke's death, questioning his purpose now, his support network, and then collapsing in grief... don't be surprised if your audience goes, "Oh hey, maybe they'd be a good couple instead."

But I digress.

The only people who are unquestioningly happy about Yusuke's passing are Mr. Iwamoto and his co-conspirator, Mr. Akashi. You know Akashi is another bad guy because he has bucked teeth and "ugliness" is an easy way to code for evilness. YYH is not immune to those mistakes :/

These two are really something else though, standing in the middle of a wake and claiming it's “too bad that car wasn’t big enough for them too," referring to Kuwabara and his friends. Wow! What stellar members of the academic community. Iwamoto goes on to say that Yusuke dying at least accomplished something good. Not, mind you, saving the life of a child, but rather looking good for their school's reputation. Akashi agrees, but says it's likely Yusuke only accidentally saved him while trying to steal the kid's lunch money. Remember, that accusation of theft is the one thing Yusuke has said outright that he does not do.

He's pissed listening to all this — wouldn't you be? — but knows by now he can't do anything about it. In another fantastic shot, Yusuke hovers his hand over Iwamoto's shoulder, desperate to grab him, when Takenaka's arrives there instead.

“What do you suppose is more disgraceful? That boy showing his misery, or your insensitive and idiotic words!”

HELL YEAH. You tell 'em, Mr. Takenaka.

Yusuke gets his third shock of the night at this passionate defense. Takenaka leaves the teachers to go pay his respects, but admits to Yusuke's picture that he just can't speak well of him. He was surprised to hear that Yusuke gave up his life for another and it's a fact that he acted selfishly. Though he doesn't say it in as many words, Takenaka explains that he's not grieving because Yusuke was a good person, but because it's so clear to him that he might have been. “Why didn’t you stay? You could have made something great out of yourself.”

Normally, "Why didn't you stay?" is just something for the living to grapple with, as the dead obviously don't have any say in what happens to them. But Yusuke does. It's here that the lighting grows soft again and Yusuke considers Takenaka's words. Keiko and Kuwabara grieve for who he was, but Takenaka grieves for who Yusuke could have been — someone that might still exist if Yusuke decides to undergo this ordeal.

Atsuko adds fuel to the emotional fire, breaking down and hiding her face in her knees.

Finally, the kid Yusuke saved arrives with his mother. Because yes, Yusuke saved him in every way that matters, considering no one else knows — or will know — that he'd have lived anyway. I like that the show doesn't allow that knowledge to undermine the emotion of their arrival, or what Yusuke’s act meant to them.

The mom tells her son to pay his respects and the kid thanks Yusuke for saving him, and for "making faces." He clearly doesn't get what's going on here. This is confirmed as the two leave and he asks his mom if he can play with Yusuke again tomorrow. “I know some people sounded angry at him, but he’s really nice!"

They're probably just crying because they want to play with him too, he thinks, which just makes his mom join in. Everyone is crying in this club tonight.

Those words are the cincher for Yusuke and with a brief montage of all the grief he's witnessed, he makes his decision.

We cut to later that night where Yusuke floats above the city, admiring the moon. Botan reappears and he asks, “Have you ever not known about something that seemed obvious to everyone else?” Yes, everyone has experienced that at one point or another. She asks if he's made his decision and Yusuke agrees to try and come back to life.

Emotional revelations out of the way, we're allowed another tone shift as Botan yells with joy, speeding off and causing Yusuke to grab hold of the end of her oar, lest he be left behind. Cranky as always, he demands to know where they're going. "To the spirit world, of course!" They're off to see someone who can explain the ordeal and give Yusuke the tool needed to complete it. Just hang on and enjoy the ride.

Thus ends our very first episode! Ah, the nostalgia. This is part one of a four arc series, with the anime cutting out a lot of the filler stories found at the start of the manga — a smart decision, I think. They primarily do the work of teaching Yusuke what he learned at the wake, so if you can accomplish that as quickly as the adaptation did, all the better. Especially since Yusuke needs to grow a great deal beyond the basic understanding that people might, sort of care for him, and that work will occur primarily through a job he's going to take on. The series isn't really about his death and it's not about an attempt to come back either — it's about what happens once you get that second chance. So this is the setup, but it's important setup all the same.

No need to skip ahead though. I've blathered enough for one recap. I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you when the writing gods next bless me with energy! 💜

#YYH #Yu Yu Hakusho #YYH recaps #mymetas

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beautiful-and-terrible · 3 years

Text

dazed ‘n‘ confused (part 3)

A/N: 3500 fuckin’ words y’all lmaooo i am so stupidly invested in this dumbass and his hot neighbor.

Ship: Rodrick Heffley x OFC

Warnings: underage drinking / drug usage, dubious consent (both parties inebriated), swearing, etc.

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Nicole shouldn’t have worried so much about what to wear. When she showed up in Rodrick’s garage, his friends Ben and Chris were there, both dressed in ripped jeans and flannel shirts paired over band t-shirts. By comparison, Nicole’s black skater skirt and combat boots felt almost fancy.

“Hey, I’m Ben,” the dark-haired one holding a red electric guitar came up to her and gave her a fist bump. She almost laughed, not having fist-bumped anyone since she was 13. “Nicole,” she replied, smiling.

“I’m Chris!” the blonde called over, waving, before turning back to adjusting his microphone and checking the settings on their audio.

Rodrick seemed to appreciate her style, at least. He came through the garage door, carrying a four-pack of Monster energy and whistled, giving her a quick up-and-down glance, “Hey, groupie.”

Nicole punched his arm as he walked by. “I came here to listen to you play, so… play.”

“Your wish is my command,” Rodrick said with a dramatic bow.

Nicole found a relatively comfortable spot as far from the speakers as she could get - this wasn’t a concert, but loud speakers could still be painful after an extended period of time. The clack of Rodrick’s drumsticks alerted her, and before she knew it there was a blast of noise and a blur of limbs.

Honestly, he wasn’t bad, Nicole thought to herself after they had played a few songs. He could use a little more control, but what musician didn’t get caught up in their music? Glancing outside, Nicole saw that it was finally growing dark out. The sky had turned a soft purple, and she could see a few fireflies flashing in the cooling grass. She checked the time on her phone - 9:15.

“Hey, do you guys know Caitlin?” she asked the group. They turned to look at her.

“Caitlin Irving or Caitlin Peters?” Ben asked, taking an impressive gulp of Monster before burping loudly. The boys fell into fits of laughter. Nicole couldn’t help laughing, too.

“I don’t know her last name, she works at Starbucks, though.”

“Ohhhhhh, Caitlin! Yeah, we know her. Why?”

“She invited me to a party tonight, but I don’t really know anyone but her. Would you guys wanna be my plus-three?”

Ben and Chris high-fived each other, and Rodrick saluted her with his drumstick, whacking himself in the head in the process. Nicole hid a laugh behind her hand, not wanting to embarrass him. “For sure, Nikky. As long as there's drinks, we’ll be there,” Chris said.

“C’mon, we can take my van,” Rodrick said, shoving his drumsticks in his back pocket and running inside to grab his keys. The other boys started down the driveway toward the white van, garishly painted with the band's name on the side in bold, black letters.

When Rodrick returned, Nicole gave him a smug look. “I thought it needed repairs?”

Rodrick stopped walking mid-stride, looking like a puppet caught on its strings. “Uh. Yeah. Well. My dad helped, when you were over at your house. Getting ready. It’s fine now. He’s the best mechanic I know.”

“Uh-huh. You sure you didn’t just… want to ride home with me from work?”

Rodrick scoffed. “You wish.” But as he rounded the front of the car to the drivers side, you caught the scarlet color of his cheeks against his tan skin. As if he could be any more endearing, he even offered Nicole shotgun. Chris grumbled the entire time, but begrudgingly gave you the seat he had worked so hard to acquire.

“First stop - Capital. Ben has a fake, so we can BYOB,” Rodrick said, practically peeling out of the driveway. Nicole clutched the seat for dear life, heart stuck in her throat.

“Are you sure this thing is secure?” she squeaked, feeling the seat shaking a little in its bolts.

“No one has been ejected yet, Nikky,” Rodrick laughed.

“Go-go gadget get me the fuck out of here,” Nicole groaned, planting her feet on the floor to try and stop herself from flying forward as Rodrick squealed to a stop in front of a seedy looking liquor store.

Ben barely avoided taking the sliding door off its tracks when he opened the door. Chris lit a cigarette in the back, the acrid scent wafting to the front of the van. Nicole didn’t mind the smell much - honestly it reminded her of her Grandmother's house - but she hoped the smell didn’t linger on her clothes. That would be hard to explain to her mom. Speaking of, she sent off a quick text to her parents telling them that she’d be back late. Luckily, Nicole had always been the responsible type, so her parents trusted her to make good decisions and as a result, let her have free reign of her life (especially now that she was 18).

Ben returned after a few minutes, carrying a 24 pack of Natty Light and lighting his own cigarette.

“You have the address?” Rodrick asked, and you showed him Caitlins text.

“Yo, that's in Heather Hill’s neighborhood. Maybe we can tee-pee her house later,” Rodrick said, already zooming off again.

“Heather Hills?”

“Major bitch,” Chris called from the back of the van. Rodrick shrugged. “She’s not a bitch she’s just… not very nice.”

Nicole laughed, “You don’t have to defend the honor of all women by not calling her a bitch. If she’s a bitch, I believe you.”

Rodrick looked at you out of the corner of his eye, thinking briefly.

“Yeah, she’s a stone-cold bitch. She ran over my foot once. With her car.”

Nicole grimaced in sympathy.

“Last year, we played at her Sweet Sixteen party, and Rodrick broke her ice sculpture bust. It was awesome,” Ben said.

“Oh, so you aren’t always perfect?” Nicole teased. Rodrick flipped her off.

Soon, they pulled up in front of Caitlin’s house. Nicole could already hear loud music from outside the house, and there were rainbow strobe lights flashing in the windows. Swallowing her nervousness, she followed Rodrick, Chris and Ben up the front walkway.

As they walked in the house, Nicole was hit by the fragrant, herbal smell of weed. From far away, the music had seemed loud, but coming in the house the music seemed to vibrate her ribcage - it was something with a repetitive bass, stuff Nicole didn’t normally listen to but she enjoyed it nonetheless. She followed Rodrick further into the house, trying to find the kitchen, weaving between people dancing and couples making out.

There were people surrounding an island in the center of the kitchen, decorated with colorful bottles of liquor and sodas to mix with. Nicole spotted Caitlin talking to a tall black guy, drinking out of a red solo cup. Nicole gave her a wave, and Caitlin excitedly came over to greet her.

“Hey! I’m so glad you made it.”

“Yeah, me too. I haven’t actually ever been to a high school party.”

Caitlin’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Well, you’re gonna have one hell of a first high school party experience, girly. Let's get you a drink.”

Caitlin turned to the kitchen island and poured about four shots of rum and filled the rest with coke in a red solo cup. Nicole took a sip. She could barely tell it was spiked, so she took a few more chugs and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.

“Do you wanna dance?” Caitlin asked, and Nicole nodded before following her back to the living room. Already, the rum was making her limbs feel looser and her brain fuzzy. She finished the rest of it in one go, enjoying the feeling of her nervousness and insecurities fading away. Nicole had never been unpopular, per say, but she tended to stay to herself and only had a few close friends at her old school, anyway. It was refreshing to feel included, and she couldn’t help feeling that this was the way her teenage years were supposed to be - loud and exciting and living moment to moment.

As they danced, Nicole swaying in place and occasionally spinning around, she couldn’t help but feeling a little awkward. Caitlin was actually a really good dancer - she knew how to move her body in all the right ways so they hit on beat with the music. Nicole envied her easy grace, but was quickly relieved when Caitlin accidentally bumped into someone, causing them to spill their drink. Nicole stifled a laugh, not at Caitlin’s expense, just at the irony of the timing. At least Nicole wasn’t the only clutz.

They had been dancing for only a few minutes before Nicole felt a hand on her waist, making her jump slightly.

“Hey, the guys and I are gonna smoke some weed in the backyard. Do you wanna come?” Rodrick said. His voice was almost in her ear, close enough that she could hear him over the blaring music, his breath tickling her sensitive skin.

She turned around to face him - in the dim light of the house, he looked much more appealing than usual - she hadn’t even noticed he had put eyeliner on, but it made the dark of his eyes look even more obsidian. Nicole nodded, giving a thumbs up, and pulled Caitlin along with her.

“I need you for moral support,” Nicole said, making Caitlin laugh.

“Have you ever smoked weed before?” Caitlin asked.

“Nope.”

Caitlin raised her eyebrows and pulled her closer as they walked to whisper in her ear.

“Okay, take a small hit the first time, don’t try to impress anyone. But breathe it fully into your lungs - I like to start by pulling it into my mouth first, and then inhaling fully. And if you cough, don’t worry, almost everyone does their first time.”

Nicole gave her a grateful look as they approached the circle of people sitting on lawn chairs in the backyard. Ben and Chris were already there, with two other girls Nicole didn’t know. However, there seemed to only be two more lawn chairs available to sit on.

Nicole was about to plop down on the grass before Caitlin grabbed her hand.

“You should sit on Rodrick’s lap,” she whispered, and Nicole almost choked on her drink.

“What?”

“Dude, he’s totally into you - I don’t know what your sitch is, but I think he’s probably a little nervous about making the first move. Just do it, and if he asks, say ‘sorry, there weren’t enough seats and I don’t wanna get bug bites from the grass.”

Nicole stared at her, mouth agape. The alcohol in her brain was telling her it might not be the worst idea ever. And you know what? Fuck it. You’re only young once. Nicole made up her mind, and squeezing Caitlin’s hand, she walked over to where Rodrick was sitting before primly making herself comfortable on his thigh.

She felt him tense beneath her immediately, before his hand came up to her waist to steady her. Before he had the chance to say anything about it, the joint was passed to him, and he took an impressive hit, the cherry glowing red at the end for several seconds. Nicole watched him with interest, hoping she wouldn’t mess up too badly and embarrass herself.

Rodrick looked up at her as he exhaled the smoke, holding the joint out to her. Not paying attention, and entranced by the eye contact they were holding, she reached out to take the joint without looking and promptly burned her hand on it.

“Fucker,” she hissed, shaking her hand to try and get rid of the pain. Rodrick just laughed.

“Do you want help?” Rodrick asked, before taking another hit of the joint. He reached up behind Nicole’s head, threading his fingers through her hair, before pulling her down close to his face, their lips inches apart. Nicole instinctively opened her mouth, half from surprise and half in anticipation of being kissed. But Rodrick simply blew a steady stream of smoke into her mouth, - their lips didn’t make contact. Belatedly, Nicole realized she was supposed to be inhaling, so she did quickly, trying to hold the smoke in her lungs for as long as possible.

Somebody wolf-whistled in the group. Nicole was pretty sure it was Caitlin.

Eventually, she ended up coughing it out, Rodrick rubbing her back but still laughing.

“You’re a green at the green, huh?” Rodrick asked, and Nicole rolled her eyes.

“That obvious?”

“Yeah, but it’s cute. I’m glad you’re having your first high with me,” Rodrick said, smiling sweetly. Nicole’s stomach fluttered. Already, she could tell that this wasn’t alcohol she was feeling anymore - the buzz she had been feeling earlier was replaced by something much slower and velvety, like the world was moving through maple syrup.

“Dude,” Nicole said after a minute, realizing she had been staring at nothing. Rodrick looked at her. She looked at him. They both started cracking up laughing.

“What are we laughing at?” Nicole hiccuped through her laughter.

“No idea,” Rodrick said, wiping his eyes free of tears of mirth.

“Rodrick, pass the J,” Ben called out, breaking the two of them from their trance. Without thinking about it, Nicole leaned back onto Rodrick’s chest, enjoying the warmth of his body. It wasn’t a cold night, per say, but Nicole was only wearing a skirt and a t-shirt, and she had always had poor circulation. She shivered involuntarily.

“Do you want my flannel?” Rodrick asked, already taking it off. Nicole sat up, ruffling his hair playfully.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you just want to show off your arms,” Nicole said, slipping on the warm blue flannel and resting her hand on Rodrick’s exposed arm, once again in a cut-off tank top. Rodrick gave her a funny look.

“What do you mean?”

Nicole suddenly found herself tongue tied. “Uh. I mean. You just wear a lot of tank tops.”

Rodrick raised an eyebrow, but said nothing else. Nicole leaned back against him again, feeling simultaneously self-conscious and exhilarated. They had never touched for this long before. She wasn’t sure exactly what was happening between them, but she liked the direction it was going. Even though they hadn’t known each other long, Nicole felt more comfortable with Rodrick than she did anyone else - even though most of the time she had known him, he had been a nuisance to her. Well… maybe not a complete nuisance.

It was funny to think that only a few days ago, Rodrick was just an annoyance she dealt with at her job and admired from afar, and now she was sitting on his lap, wearing his flannel. She leaned her head back, looking at the stars. She hadn’t noticed that Caitlin had left, but suddenly she appeared over her line of vision, grinning.

“Do you want a beer?” she asked, holding a cold can over Nicole’s forehead. Nicole reached out to take it, sitting up before cracking it open. She wasn’t in the habit of enjoying beer for the flavor, so she’d rather get drunk off it quickly. It tasted like wet cardboard, but Nicole managed to chug it down.

“Damn, girl, where’d you learn to drink like that?” Chris asked, laughing as Nicole belched loudly.

“Years of rigorous practice and intense concentration, young padawan,” Nicole replied.

“Do you wanna shotgun one with me?” Chris asked, half-joking, but Nicole was feeling overly confident from the buzz she was feeling and readily stepped up to the challenge.

“Whoever spits it out owes the other ten bucks.”

“Fuckin’ deal,” Chris grinned, Ben cheering him on as he threw a beer toward Nicole. She (surprisingly) caught it.

“Wait, gimme one,” Rodrick said, making grabby hands in Ben’s direction, who threw him a beer.

“On three, okay?” Ben counted. They all started to crack open their beers, Nicole with her house keys, Rodrick with his car keys, and Chris with his pen knife.

“One.. twoooooo…. Three!” Ben yelled, and they all tipped their heads back, drinking from the hole in the side of the can. Nicole’s eyes watered, but she was too competitive to back down now. Foam spilled out of the side of her mouth, but she kept drinking. She could hear people chanting her name as she finally threw the beer can down on the ground, raising her hands in victory. Both Rodrick and Chris were covered in beer foam, but Nicole somehow stayed relatively clean, minus the beer she wiped off her face.

“Ten motherfucking bucks, Chris,” Nicole slurred slightly, grinning at him as he pulled out a crumpled bill from his pocket and threw it at her.

“Rodrick, how the fuck did you lose, dude? You were the one who taught me how to shotgun,” Ben said, causing Nicole to throw her head back in laughter, before letting out another massive burp that lasted for several seconds. The whole group dissolved into laughter.

Eventually, the joint got finished, and people started to move back inside. However, Rodrick and Nicole stayed outside, talking about whatever came into their heads.

“Were you ever into Greek mythology as a kid?” Nicole asked, watching Rodrick’s eyes go comically large.

“Does Percy Jackson count?”

Nicole pretended to consider it deeply for a moment, before shaking her head. Rodrick pouted.

“I only got into Greek mythology because of Percy Jackson. So, I think it still counts.

“Fine. But do you know shit about the constellations they’re associated with?”

Rodrick pointed at the sky, at a random cluster of stars.

“For sure - that's Dingus Humongus, he was a Greek hero with the fattest ass known to man.”

“Sounds like my kinda guy,” Nicole replied, sticking her tongue out as Rodrick squawked in indignation.

“Besides a fat ass, what do you look for in a guy? Not, like, that I care. Just. Wondering.”

“Very good English, Rodrick,” Nicole laughed, “I guess my type is… someone kind. And funny. Someone who tries to be cool and is actually a huge dork. And musical, that's always a plus,” she said, feeling very bold as she looked directly at him. It took Rodrick a moment, but eventually his mouth formed a small “oh” as he realized who she was talking about. His eyes flicked down to her lips. Then he frowned, “I am not a dork.”

Nicole rolled her eyes, “And I’m totally not waiting for you to kiss me right now.”

Nicole watched as the color slowly rose in Rodrick’s cheeks, turning them rosy pink, visible even in the shadow-drenched backyard. Nicole decided to pull yet another risky move, and adjusted herself on Rodrick’s lap so that she was facing him, her thighs on top of his arms around his neck. For such a seemingly confident boy, Rodrick seemed more nervous than she had ever seen him, even when he asked her to come to band practice earlier. Hell, he hadn’t even been that nervous to shotgun the joint into her mouth.

“Sorry, I just… I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. I don’t wanna be bad at it,” he confessed. Just as Nicole thought she couldn’t be any more endeared by this boy. She slid her hands into his hair, thick and soft. She leaned in and gently nosed at his jawline, placing small kisses against his warm skin. Right at his jugular, he smelled like cologne and nighttime and boy, the right mix of clean and sexy. Seemingly gaining his courage, he grabbed Nicole by the back of her head and brought her up to his lips.

It was soft, at first, merely a press of skin to skin, but the two gradually deepened the kiss, moving against each other like they were made for it. Nicole felt like her heart might beat out of her chest - or maybe she was just that high.

Feeling emboldened by Rodrick’s enthusiasm, she slipped her tongue between his lips, gently tangling their tongues together. He let out a low moan, and Nicole could’ve blacked out from how turned on she was by that simple sound. The warmth of his body against hers and the slickness of their mouths together caused a rush of liquid heat to form between Nicole’s legs. Goddamn, he was good at this. Nicole wasn’t sure how many girls Rodrick had kissed before this, but if he was a rookie at this she was damn impressed.

Rodrick’s hands, which had been resting on her waist, slowly moved down her ass and under her skirt, causing Nicole to gasp as he started to knead and grab at her cheeks - not hard, but enough to get her even more hot and bothered than she thought possible.

“Is this okay?” Rodrick asked, his voice low and rough.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Nicole replied, running her fingers through his hair and scratching her nails down his neck. She felt him shiver beneath her, sending a heady rush of power to her stomach and lower. He pulled her closer to him by her ass, so that their crotches pressed together. Nicole was taken aback by the sensation of his bulge pressed against her, but didn’t pull back, instead grinding down on him.

“Are there still people out here?” Rodrick asked shakily. Nicole pulled back and looked over her shoulder - the backyard was empty, thank god.

“No, just us,” Nicole said, turning back and bringing her lips to his ear, biting and licking the sensitive flesh. Rodrick whimpered, grinding up to meet her, and Nicole almost lost it then and there.

The alcohol and weed in her system were slowing her reactions, but also kept her from thinking too much about what she was doing - all she could think about was how much she wanted this. Sober, this might’ve never happened - she was too nervous about what he would think if she ever made a move, constantly overthinking her every word and action. This dumb boy, who rode with her to work, who stayed to the end of her shift and bought her slushies, had wiggled his way into her every thought and every beat of her heart. She knew she was fucked.

She only wished it was literally.

Nicole opened her eyes briefly to catch Rodrick’s gaze, and out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed the red-and-blue flash of police lights. Rodrick caught sight of the lights at the same time.

“Oh, fuck.”

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x original female character #rodrick heffley fanfic #rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid #fanfiction #emo #music #band #emomusic

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fuckinuchihas · 3 years

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Hi can I have a emergency request. Can you write a reader who thinks their romantically unlovable. With Sugawara disproving this saying he loves reader romantically. I've just always felt romantically unlovable and someday it's more apparent then others and the past few days its been worse. He/ him pronouns for reader or of that's not in your comfort zone just gender neutral. Please and thank you.

I can’t promise you that you’ll find a special romance someday but I can tell you from experience that even though you might think of yourself as completely and totally unattractive, unlovable, undesirable, etc It doesn’t mean everyone else will.

I really hope that things get better for you <3

You hear your name being called out as you make your way down the corridor to your small apartment. When you turn, you see your neighbor Sugawara waving at you with a bright smile.

He’s always so warm and welcoming.

It’s a double edged sword.

You want nothing more than to run to him, wrap around him, and never let go but you know he doesn’t see you that way. He’s friendly and open with everyone you’ve seen him interact with. He’s just a really nice guy, with a bit of a mischievous streak.

But...you’re friends...just friends.

You’ve made your peace with knowing that, as much as you can at least.

It’s not the first time but it’s never felt more painful to have your fate sealed up this way. Usually you can just roll with it, you don’t expect anything romantic from anyone so it’s not wrong when you don’t get it.

But fuck...FUCCKK you’ve wanted since the first day you met him.

You didn’t understand it at first. You didn’t know why you were being drawn into him beyond the friendly smile and the ridiculous sense of humor. But it wasn’t long before the pieces fell into place and you weren’t just crushing, you were full blown in love, capital L, with him.

“Hey Suga,” you say, once he catches up to you and pulls you out of your thoughts.

It only takes those two small words for him to realize that something is different.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, his hand gently finding the curve of your shoulder and giving it a little squeeze.

“Yeah, man. I’m cool…” you say, shrugging it off. “Just tired.”

“Oh well I’ll let you rest then,” he says, backing away.

You miss the warmth of his hand immediately but you push ahead. “I’m not like, exhausted..just a long day..y’know? What’s up?”

“I was actually wondering if you uh, wanted to watch the game and maybe order some pizza or something,” he says, and he seems oddly nervous given the fact that you guys hang out quite a bit so it’s nothing new.

“What game?” you ask, because you didn’t really think he was the kind of guy that was into sports.

“Oh the uh, volleyball game between MSBY Black Jackals and the Schweiden Adlers,” he says, there’s a pink tinge to his cheeks that’s adorable as hell but you fight off the bubbly feeling in your chest.

“Sure man...sounds good. What time does it start?” you ask, and his smile is wider than you’ve ever seen it.

“About thirty minutes from now?” he says, chuckling in the short space between you. It feels warm but you still miss the touch of his hand.

You laugh along and shake your head. “Yeah come on in...you can order the pizza while I change out of my work stuff.”

“Thanks,” he says, strutting into your apartment completely at ease.

Sometimes you wish you knew how that felt.

If you didn’t have all these feelings building up inside you maybe you would.

You quickly get into something a lot more comfortable and you take a few seconds to glance in the mirror before you head back out to the main room.

“We’ve got a little time before it starts, tell me about your day,” he says, clearly impatient about what’s bothering you.

“It’s really nothing just...y’know it’s February...LOVERS AND LOVEY DOVEY DISPLAYS ARE EVERYWHERE,” you say, an empty laugh erupting unexpectedly from your chest.

“Well you’ll find someone you like, I’m sure.”

“I don’t think that stuff is for me…” you say, missing the way his smile drops and doesn’t quite reach his eyes anymore.

“Oh? If it’s not too personal could I ask why?”

“Well for starters, someone would have to actually like me back...like romantically,” you say, “I just don’t think that’s possible.”

He sits quiet for a moment, the air isn’t uneasy but it’s not as comfortable as it was either.

You start to feel a little nervous.

“I mean, I’m not trying to be self deprecating. I know I’m a really cool guy and I have personality for days but like...nobody looks and me goes, yeah...him...I want to kiss his face and hold his hand and like...other stuff,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m just not that guy, s’all.”

You’ve been trying to pour the both of you a glass of something to drink but your hands have started to shake the longer you speak and you’re genuinely concerned you’re going to make a mess of things if you don’t hurry it up.

You force yourself to take a deep breath and try to relax long enough to fill the cups.

“That’s not true...that’s not true at all. I’m sure there are a lot of people who see you smile, watch you laugh, feel your soul wrap around them and think yeah...he’s special.”

Your eyes pop up to meet his and you feel a rush of something in your gut that you can’t explain.

“Nobody has ever thought that,” you say, unable to keep yourself from pushing.

Don’t push...don’t push, he’s just going to talk about some hypothetical pers-

“I did. I do- I think that…”

You feel your eyes go even wider and you nearly drop the pitcher you’re pouring from but instead you just freeze there, in shock.

Sugawara stands up slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as he makes his way toward where you’re standing by the counter.

He takes the pitcher in one hand and gently sets it down on the countertop so it doesn’t get dropped and break, and then he puts your face between his hands.

From this close you see his eyes, the way his hair falls over his forehead. You feel the warmth of his hands all over again only this time against your bare skin and it’s even more amazing.

The words come out shaky and surprised but you say them all the same, “I must be dreaming…”

“Not a dream, is it...is it okay if I kiss you?”

“As long as you don’t disappear.”

“I won’t disappear.”

“Then yes.”

Sugawara spends the next few minutes thoroughly convincing you that you are wanted. And, even though it’s still new and you’re not sure all the feelings you’ve been craving are there, he has no trouble making you feel cared for and loved.

#emergency request #kel answers #my stuff #sugawara x male reader #suga x comfort male reader #gendered reader

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jeeperso · 3 years

Text

D&D Quotes Without context

Miscellaneous Edition, for those quotable lines from between sessions

"All I wanna do, is fork a giant woman! A giant woman!" "Jonni, I'm pretty sure she is some type of undead, probably a vampire. Are you sure that is a good idea?" "If I don’t get turned into a blueberry it won’t be my worst date." "Okay, but if you have to defend yourself just don't burn the place down for once." "Oh, Nyx. Sweet summer child. I never make promises we both know I won’t even try to keep." "Jonni, if I wake up to my bed surrounded in flames again I'm short-sheeting your next bed every night for at least a month." "I know you're trying to score here, but Lady Dimitrescu's daughters are literally vampires AND bugs. I can overlook one, but as a Paladin, it is my sacred duty to burn this place to the ground and stir the ashes."

"We don't let Marshall make breakfast anymore." "Those waffles are well-fortified." "I'm going to be charitable and call it hardtack." "We can use these waffles as melee weapons." "Well if we need to deflect siege engines they'll be good to have." "This is still carbon based and digestible by human systems without any poisons." "I can't serve this. It'll cause ... death." "Marshal we've been over this. This Pizza has 10% less of a lethal amount of grease." "Plus they signed the waivers when they bought a ticket. It's fine." "And don't forget to push the Cakeon." "Cakeon being slices of cake wrapped in bacon." "The special sauce is a mixture of mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, ranch, horseradish, cheddar cheese, sour cream, and anything unfortunate enough to fall into the mixing vat."

"You do have a copy of the legal code I requested in my letter? As landed gentry you should actually have legal avenues to... I'm sorry did you say Burning child?"

"First I'm going to nail a crossbow bolt through your heart. Then I'm going to mount your balls to walls on opposite sides of this chamber." "I need Three Barrels of Butter" "Are you serious? Those Claws could crush an elephant in full plate!" "You're Right!" *Turns to first person* "We might need more than three barrels of butter."

"So Ioun is the patron of poor college kids. that scans "

"its hardtack or a mug of molten cheese-fried... something in a woven mug of bacon. your choice."

"Welp, all this coke ain't gonna snort itself..."

"Right hand me that dress and the bail money. I'll get Jonni." OOC: Well I mean they allow men in the city. Its just no men live in the city. "I stand by my statement. I'm allowed to look pretty every now and then." OOC: And dragons are the most unprejudiced lovers of anyone after bards.

OOC: Well I mean come on, its Ravenloft: saying a place is of death and madness is like making the observation the day ends in y. "Going out. Getting laid." "Jonni, she’s a werewolf." "Going out, forking a werewolf." OOC: Well Lycanthropy isn't usually sexually transmitted. Its just that Mercedes is a biter. OOC: ...I don't have an appropriate response to that.

"You seriously think I’d turn on my friends for a pile of gold?!?" "sigh I’ll show you my tits. "Hot damn, let’s get these murders done!" "No, Jonni, stay good. Besides, there are plenty of other girls who will do that without asking you to murder us." "Hmmmm… this is the moral quandary of my life…" "I’ll give you five bucks." "Scales tipped!" "Phew, I thought I was going to have to cover her next trip to the topless bar." "No, no, I have the bail money right here."

Nyx: So what’s the inside of Jonni’s head like? Edmund (with thousand yard stare): Imagine every ladies only smut magazine you’ve ever heard of going on forever into infinity while everything is on fire. Food was good though.

"It’s cool. They stole it." "And you know this how?" "Magic." “90% of Ravenloft deaths are mysterious vanishings.” "Why does everything come out covered in glitter and … is that …" "Lube. I’ve got a few theories." "Please don’t share them."

OOC: This is a plan that ends with Strahd having fewer brides, his castle is in flames, and he’s lost his cape.

OOC: Our team consists of a horny pyromancer, a gnome who can fillete you in five seconds, an HP lovecraft protagonist with actual magic backing them up, a literal slab of iron with a face, and a guy with a "I went to the eternal city of Ryleth and all I got was PTSD and this lousy T shirt". Gorbash smashing his shield into their face: "Have! You! Considered! Therapy!" OOC: Good news is you guys will no longer be the most conspicuous guys at the masquerade now. Jonni: Challenge accepted! "Nyx, the bounty on stealing his fake mustache is still on."

"Vanilla is the king of flavors. What does it say about society where vanilla is considered just 'regular'?" "That they have a lot of vanilla." Lash: "Don’t you want wishes?" Jonni: "Do I need wishes to get to see you naked?" Lash: "No?" Jonni: "Fuck ‘em." Vesh: "Oh dammit its my arranged fiance." Pit Fiend: "Milady." Vesh: "An extra wish to whoever punches this douchecanoe in the nards." Jonni: "I wish…for Bigby’s clenched fist of nard punching."

Soth: "Oh, gods, why am I on fire and why is Immigrant Song playing?" Jonni: "Take a guess." Hazlik: "Okay, so its a partridge, stuffed inside a chicken, stuffed inside a duck, stuffed inside a turkey, and the whole thing is fried on a stick. Congratulations, that's the most horrible thing I have ever seen, and I once crossbred an elephant and an owl." "I give him the 'itis, and we run like we stole something." OOC: ...weirdly Curse of Strahd has stats for Strahd zombies but not Strahd Skeletons. Or Strahd's skeletal Steed. Strahd once went to a branding seminar hosted by Bane and it changed his life.

"Are we on a high enough floor that if I throw him through the window he'll be killed by the fall?" "Oh, but when I say stuff like that it’s all 'Jonni, murder is wrong.'" "When they say pick your battles they don't mean to pick all of them. That's too many battles Jonni. Put some back." OOC: He's technically already got a symbiote. OOC: They can get married. Gorbash: "I'm increasing the rent." Venom: "Can I keep the pool table?" Gorbash: "I'm not a monster." Giant Brain: "Jonni… I have summoned you here for… WHY AM I ALREADY ON FIRE! PUT ME OUT! PUT ME OUT!"

"Hello We're the party-crashers. This is Jonni, she's here to steal your women and burn your shit down. That's Nyx, she's going to repatriate certain items from the premise. Marshal over there, is here to studiously ignore our shenanigans. This is the New Guy. He seems pretty chill. I'm Gorbash... and I have been distracting you."

"Will you walk into my parlour?" said a spider to a fly. Jonni: "Hold up. Trying to sex a spider." Nyx: (throws her hands up) And then Jonni wakes up with a spider venom hangover webbed to a wall waiting to be eaten. Jonni: "Eh, I’ve had worse one night stands. I’m not a fucking blueberry." OOC 1: Hey, where does your weed elf grow [her] crops? OOC 2: She probably just grows them in the room she hasn’t paid rent on. OOC 3: Because I was also considering a circle of spores druid tortle. OOC 2: We could be partners! We could turn this into road to el dorado staring Cheech and Chong. OOC: Wait, I just realized five people are hanging out in a pirate bar, and none of us are rogues. We are gonna need someone to get thieves tools. OOC: We have a barbarian with a big stick.

"Are we Foxhound now? Blunderbuss Octopus." OOC1: You want to put the stoner in charge of food. OOC2: Eyup. OOC1: I see no way this can go wrong! OOC3: We need the four basic food groups. Beans, Bacon, Whisky, and Lard. “We pray to Almighty Darkseid! Give us a sign! Thumbs up, for the triumph of the human spirit! Thumbs down to begin the everlasting reign of darkness!” “Where did you find this guy?” “Me? I thought you hired him.” OOC: Yup, nature, arcana, history, investigation and religon at +6. MJ got baked and watched the Discovery Orb a lot. Tordek: "But we have a cleric, Jozan, over there." Strahd: *sigh* Snaps fingers, and suddenly one of Strahd's brides sucks Jozan out the window, cue screaming. "Oh look, you suddenly have an opening, how fortunate." Tordek: "We also have a druid...." Vadania: "SHUT UP, TORDEK!" Edmund: "I think the first order of business may be to discuss your Human Resources strategy..." Strahd: "I have a guy for that too."

youtube

"When someone as smart as him talks with himself, it's not crazy...They call it monologing." "I thought it was soliloquy?" "No, soliloquy is when you're talk at someone else when your talking to yourself." "Most people would run from a demon, you run towards it to study it." Professor: "THIS IS ABSOLUTELY FASCINATING! A FROGHEMOTH, AND RIGHT UP CLOSE, IT WILL BE AMAZING TO SEE THIS PERFECT KILLING MACHINE IN ACTION." OOC: Also note the Professor is Lawful Good, Archie is Chaotic Good, so collectively they balance out to Neutral good. OOC: That's good. "The incinerations will continue until morale improves!" “You never incinerate the women!” “Because I’m fucking them!” “I… was not expecting you to be so honest about that…”

"You got what you wanted....but you lost what you had...." "Yes, I'm familiar with how capitalism works."

OOC: Dragons are like, “That’s Krandor the shiney. He only fucks other dragons. Weirdo.”

Gorbash: "D'awww, so tiny... perfect size... FOR PUNTING!" *boots tiny mind-flayer into the horizon*

"Dracula hasn't been spotted in almost recently. Whats he gonna do, destroy all we know and love like he definitely can?" "... my god you people are too stupid to live." "What are you doing in my house?" Gorbash: "...well Edmund has been reading your books, I've been sorting through your armory, Nyx and Irost has been going through your other shinies, Marshal has been cleaving anything monstrous that gets too close, and Jonni has been lighting things on fire to stave off boredom." Gorbash: "Okay Marshal, Jonni. Rock, paper, scissors over who gets [to kill] the bishop."

Jonni: "Did you really think this would make up for what you did?" Nima: "I… killed everyone you grew up with." Jonni: "Yeah, and I’m still not forgiving you for what you did to Eddie." Nima: "I am missing some key context here…" Nima: "Also I committed identity theft on you by having my new undead army tell everyone you are running the show." Jonni: "Oh, no. You’ve fooled the boar tribe. Who still haven’t figured out shitting in a hole." Nima: "Yeah I noticed that. I ruined two pairs of shoes attacking their camps."

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #quotes without context #ravenloft #castlevania #resident evil village #ooc

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writingfeatherduster · 3 years

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A Warm Feeling, Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Grillby Has Bad Days, Too

Read this on Archive of Our Own and Wattpad!

Summary: What's this? A role reversal? Grillby has been busy and struggling to run his bar single-handedly, and it pushes him past his limit. Luckily, Sans is there for him. Warnings for this chapter: Passing out, neglecting one's health Word Count: 3188

Sans laid back on his mattress with a groan. Two weeks. It had been two whole weeks since the reset, and Frisk was still in the Ruins. He was starting to wonder if they were doing it on purpose, just to mess with him. Every day, Sans went out to his post and watched, waiting for that giant door at the end of the road to open. It occurred to him that he was actually doing his job for once. His sentry reports had never been more detailed, and Papyrus was pretty proud of him for it. He didn’t even give Sans a hard time about sleeping in anymore.

When Sans opened his eyes again, the clock on his phone said it was just a little bit past five. Usually Sans would go back to sleep, waiting until about seven before going to Grillby’s and spending the rest of the evening there. The dinner rush picked up around five, and Sans didn’t usually like crowds, but then again he would take social anxiety over all-my-loved-ones-are-going-to-die-again anxiety any day. Sitting alone with his thoughts was only going to make him spiral again. So, with that, he stuffed the jacket under his mattress and got up, putting on his slippers and heading out into the snow. Somehow, looking at the restaurant down the street, he barely felt the cold at all.

Grillby rushed to keep up with orders as the dinner rush reached its peak. It had been a very, very busy day. He really couldn’t complain- business was business- but it had just been unusually hard on the bartender that day. Sans would probably say I’m ‘burned out’, Grillby thought to himself, smiling ever so slightly at the thought. If there was one thing he would be able to look forward to that evening, it would be seeing his favorite customer. Seeing Sans was always the high point of Grillby’s day. The skeleton was kind and funny, and he always seemed to know exactly how to put Grillby at ease. The bartender shook himself from his thoughts at the sound of the door opening again, bracing himself for another wave of orders and demands. Surprise and relief washed over him when he saw a familiar blue jacket in the doorway, looking around for a seat. The bar itself was unfortunately full, but Sans managed to find a table in the corner that was empty, sitting down and glancing over the drink menu as if he didn’t already have it memorized.

Grillby wanted nothing more than to walk over and say hello. Maybe he would sit with Sans, ignoring the rest of his customers as he vented about the awful day he’d had. However, that was nothing more than wishful thinking. One of the customers at the bar got his attention, asking for another order of fries and a drink. Of course, Grillby was quick to deliver, running to the kitchen to start the food before coming back out to mix drinks.

Now Grillby was aware that there were establishments in the capital that didn’t care how much their patrons drank so long as they could pay for it, but Grillby was more responsible than that. When a particularly intoxicated seahorse monster at the bar demanded another highly alcoholic cocktail, Grillby offered him a virgin drink instead, arching an eyebrow as he cut him off for the evening. “I’d offer you a glass of water, but I don’t go near the stuff. I think you’ve had enough for the evening.”

The monster scoffed, irritated. “What kind of B-S is that? I know how much I can handle, I’m nowhere near wasted. Just gimme another drink and mind your own damn business.”

Grillby shook his head. “I said, you’ve had enough,” he said firmly. “If you would like to order a non-alcoholic drink instead I would be happy to prepare it for you.”

The monster stood with his hands on the bar, yelling, “Do you have any idea who I am?!”

And here they went again. Grillby got this sort of thing all the time when they were busy. “Sir, please, there’s no reason to shout…” God, he had a headache. Couldn’t his customers give him one easy night? There were two other monsters trying to get his attention to order drinks, apparently either unaware or uncaring that Grillby was in the middle of something. “I’m afraid I have other customers to attend to-”

The seahorse monster cut him off. “I am a loyal customer and I have never caused you any trouble before, and this is how you treat me?? Not cool, dude. You’re gonna lose my business if you keep up with this attitude. What happened to the customer is always right? You know I’ve never said anything before, but your service is so damn slow, and your food sucks. I can barely even drink these shitty excuses for drinks, I’m only here because I want to support local businesses, but with your attitude-”

Ding! You’re blue now!

The seahorse monster suddenly found himself being lifted off with his stool with a yelp, unceremoniously dropped to the floor. Sans took his place at the bar, a casual grin on his face. “Hey Grillbz, looks like it’s busy. This guy causing you trouble?”

Grillby could have cried in relief. “No,” he remarked casually, “He was just leaving.” He made eye contact with the monster, irritated. “And I believe we had just reached an agreement that he will not be coming back.” With that, he gave Sans a thankful look before rushing to take care of the customers that had been waiting on him.

The bartender was pretty sure he wouldn’t have made it through the evening with his sanity intact if Sans weren’t there. Every time an irate customer started to get an attitude with Grillby, Sans would interrupt, either drawing Grillby away from the situation or diffusing the situation with a joke and a smile. The rush had started dying down by six-thirty, and the bartender finally had a moment to just… breathe.

Sans looked up from his phone when a burger and a bottle of ketchup were set in front of him, the food fresh off the grill and the bottle filled to the top. Grillby adjusted his glasses, leaning against the bar with a sigh. “Sorry it took so long to get out to you,” he mumbled. “Busy night.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Sans responded with a chuckle. “There was a line out the door when I got here.”

“Really?” Grillby looked out the window, relieved to see that was no longer the case. “I hadn’t even noticed. I really need to hire some waiting staff. I’ve put out a help wanted ad a few times, but no one qualified has ever responded…” He took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead, trying to will away the headache he’d had ever since the dinner rush.

Sans tilted his head, a little worried. “Hey, well, now you can relax for the evening, right?”

Grillby groaned. “As much as I would like that, I still have customers, Sans.”

Sans looked around, then shrugged. “They’re all regulars, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you closed an hour or two early. I mean, if I’m being honest… You… don’t look so good. It’s been kinda a rough week. You should take care of yourself before you get too burned out, heh.”

Grillby found himself chuckling despite himself. “I knew you would make that joke,” he mumbled. He looked around the bar for a moment. It was true, that he only had regulars in this late, and they were all fairly good and understanding patrons. Even if they weren’t all the most understanding monsters, his headache just… would not go away. “For the record, if I concede and close up early, I would like it to be known that I’m doing this for your benefit. You worry too much.”

“Heh, sure, Grillbz. I’ll help you round everyone up and get them out of here,” Sans offered, getting up out of his chair. He couldn’t help glancing at Grillby every now and then, an uneasiness settling in his chest as he watched the bartender periodically take off his glasses and rub his eyes.

Sans decided not to mention that for the first time, his burger had been undercooked.

Grillby sat down at one of his booths and sighed, putting his head down on the table. He’d finished cleaning up, and Sans had been kind enough to put up the barstools and chairs for him. He felt more than heard his friend sit next to him, the hand that came up to rub his back a welcome presence of comfort. Sans fidgeted with his hoodie zipper with his free hand, even more worried than before. He’d never seen Grillby like this, but… it couldn’t have been the first time, could it? Since the evening Grillby had carried Sans home, the two had been a little bit closer. It was possible that the bartender had just started feeling comfortable being more vulnerable with him, but Sans still felt like he should have noticed this sort of thing before. Why didn’t it occur to him that Grillby had his own bad days? Grillbz was always looking out for him, taking care of him, and giving him a safe space. When had Sans last returned the favor? Some friend he was…

“I know what you’re thinking, Sans,” Grillby said quietly. “Yes, I have bad days, but days as severe as this are rare. I’ve never asked for help or mentioned it before. There’s no way you could have done anything about it.”

Sans huffed, relaxing a little bit and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “How come you can read me like a book like that? You’re not even looking at me.”

“You were thinking loudly,” Grillby responded sarcastically. “Honestly, you spend nearly every evening at my bar. You’d think that I’d know you pretty well.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Sans conceded. The two fell into a comfortable silence, Sans continuing to rub Grillby’s back while the bartender took a moment to let himself wind down. He pushed down a bit between Grillby’s shoulder blades, eliciting a soft groan from the monster.

“Ow…” Grillby hadn’t realized just how sore he was until Sans did that. He had all kinds of knots in his shoulders. His back and his feet ached. He was going to feel awful when he got up the next morning.

As the dull ache spread through him, Sans pressed down again, digging in his palm a bit and starting to work out one of the worst knots. “Damn, Grillbz,” he mumbled under his breath. “When was the last time you stretched. Here, turn around.” He guided Grillby into sitting so that his back was facing Sans. The skeleton reached up, starting at the bartender’s neck as he began massaging out the tension there and loosening up the sore muscles. He was surprisingly good at it, drawing another out a soft sigh from the fire monster.

“Sans,” Grillby breathed out, “You don’t have to.”

Sans chuckled a bit. “I want to. Would it make you feel better if I charged you for it? Just take it off my tab.”

Grillby rolled his eyes, caving. “Fine… thank you.”

The worried unease slowly left Sans at that, replaced by a fond warmth. “Hey, don’t mention it. Let me take care of you for once.”

Later that evening, as Sans and Grillby parted ways, Sans found himself having some… interesting thoughts about the bartender as he watched him walk away. He would be lying if he said that he hadn’t been a bit flustered by some of the soft sighs and groans that had slipped past Grillby’s lips as Sans gave him the massage. He didn’t expect Grillby to be so vocal.

The thought made the skeleton’s throat go dry and he shook himself, turning and walking back towards home. He hadn’t missed the way Grillby was blushing when he sat back up, quietly thanking Sans and mumbling that he felt much better. Come to think of it, Sans had seen Grillby’s blush a lot more often lately. Some sort of line had been well and truly stepped over when Grillby took Sans home, spending the night with him to make sure he wasn’t alone with his nightmares. Not much had really changed between the two of them, but every so often they shared a tender, vulnerable moment that reached a little bit deeper than other interactions. It was undeniable that they’d gotten closer, but…

Closer how?

Sans reached the front door, but decided to take a short cut to his room. He didn’t really feel like facing Papyrus’s questions as to why he was home earlier than usual right then. He’d managed to stop worrying his brother so much recently. He’d actually been getting a decent amount of rest the past few days. His nightmares had been a lot milder, still waking him up but not hanging around long enough to keep him from dozing back off pretty quickly.

He refused to acknowledge that it had anything to do with the black jacket that wasn’t his he’d been sleeping in every night. Surely it had nothing to do with the weight of the fabric and the comforting, familiar smell of smoke.

Sans wasn’t sure what woke him up early. Maybe Papyrus singing in the shower? Usually he slept through that noise but… eh, whatever. The skeleton sat up and stretched, Grillby’s jacket shifting around his shoulders. He pulled it off and gently inspected it for a moment, remembering the night before. Maybe… Maybe since he was up early anyway, he could go ahead and check on him. The bar opened pretty early for breakfast, but walking past with Papyrus each morning, it never looked particularly busy. The skeleton shrugged off the jacket and stuffed it under his mattress, semi-reluctantly exchanging it for his regular blue one. He made sure to leave a note for Papyrus on his door letting him know that he left early before heading out to check in with his friend.

The first thing Sans noticed was that there weren’t any lights on inside the bar. Usually he could see the glow of the windows and the light they casted out on the snow from a distance, but the restaurant was totally dark. Sans pulled out his phone and checked the time again. Seven thirty-eight. Grillby’s should’ve definitely been open.

The second thing he noticed was the sign in the window. It was one of those plastic signs that said ‘OPEN’ on one side and ‘CLOSED’ on the other, hanging from a suction-cup hook. It was flipped to ‘OPEN’. Sans distinctly remembered Grillby flipping it to ‘CLOSED’ the night before, but the place certainly didn’t look open. Had Grillby come in, then changed his mind and taken the morning off? And just forgotten to change the sign back?

Sans was starting to get a bad feeling. After a moment, he slowly walked up to the door and turned the doorknob.

Unlocked.

Grillby never forgot to lock the door.

That was all the evidence Sans needed to conclude something was definitely wrong. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Grillbz? Hey, you in?” Was the power out or something…? He looked around, eyes drawn to the open kitchen door. There was a flickering light coming from inside the kitchen that hadn’t been visible through the front window. A flickering light…

Dread seeped into Sans’s soul as he found himself jogging towards the kitchen. “Grillby?!” He called out worriedly. “Hey, what’s going…” Sans stopped short, eyes wide as he located his best friend.

Grillby was laying on the floor in the middle of the kitchen, a batch of burger buns scattered across the floor around a pan sitting on the ground nearby. It didn’t take long for Sans to figure out what had happened, rushing over to his friend and kneeling next to him. “Grillby! Hey, come on, wake up. Shit, Grillbz, wake up!” What did he do?! He couldn’t exactly pour water on his face! He shook the bartender slightly, on the edge of panic. He fought back tears of relief when Grillby’s eyes fluttered open.

Grillby shifted and winced, a hand coming up to his head. “Ngh… Sans…?”

“Y-yeah,” Sans managed to stammer. “Hey, don’t move around too much. What hurts?”

Grillby took longer to answer than Sans would like. “Head, back, knees,” the bartender finally mumbled, closing his eyes again. “What… What happened?”

“You fucking passed out is what happened,” Sans choked out through a tense, humorless laugh. “I thought you had Fallen Down or something. You scared the shit out of me.”

Grillby opened his eyes again, looking up at Sans. He reached out with a shaky hand to cup the skeleton’s cheek, steam sizzling into the air as he wiped away a single stray tear. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled quietly.

“No,” Sans said quickly. “Don’t you fucking dare apologize. Don’t you dare apologize for getting hurt or- or sick or whatever caused this. It isn’t your fault.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Grillby was going to be alright, he knew that much. He’d make sure of it. “Can you sit up slowly for me?”

With Sans’s help, Grillby gradually got up to a sitting position, then after a few moments of sitting, slowly eased his way into standing. He swayed on his feet when he was upright, so Sans carefully helped him out to a booth in the dining room, making him lay down again as he went to lock the door and flip the sign back over. No way was Grillby working in that condition. “Grillbz, when was the last time you ate?”

“Um…” Grillby frowned, thinking about it. After a long moment of silence, Sans shook his head.

“Okay, the fact that you have to think about it that long is bad enough,” Sans said tensely. “It… It wasn’t that day when we ate lunch together, was it? Grillbz, that was five days ago. I know it’s been busy but holy shit, G!” He took another deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to be lecturing about self-care (especially since Sans was the last person to be talking to about it). “Alright, we need to get you something to eat. Papyrus should be out at his post by now, so I’m gonna bring you over to my house to rest. You’re taking a day off.”

If anything, Sans was made more concerned by the fact that Grillby didn’t protest. He helped his friend back up, debating on whether or not to take a shortcut before deciding that might be too much for the bartender to handle.

Grillby did his best to maintain his balance, groaning as his head throbbed from the motion. “I… f-feel like shit…”

Sans relaxed a bit, chuckling tensely. At least Grillby was aware enough to sound like himself again. “Yeah, I’m sure. Don’t worry, Grillbz, I’ll take care of ya.”

Thanks for reading this chapter! If you want, you can also read this on Archive of Our Own and Wattpad. If you like my writing, consider reblogging so that more people can see it, and leave a comment to tell me what your favorite part was! I'm aiming to have the next chapter out next week, so keep an eye out for it. Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list for A Warm Feeling!

#undertale #sans #grillby #sans x grillby #sansby #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #fanfic #fanfiction #undertale fic #undertale fanfiction #my writing #writing #dusty writes #a warm feeling #dusty a warm feeling

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messiisgodibeliveinhim · 3 years

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Taeyong

I just wanted to rant about everything that happened. So here I am.

So initially I didn't want to watch the concert because of the obvious lack of Taeyong. But i did watch it (ill*gally) on Twitter Live Stream, to see who would cover for Taeyong and how.

Okay, first of all, is it just me or was there an actual lack of preparation and production for the concert??? Like, compare it to SuperM's Beyond Live. The VCRs, the camera direction, the stage, the AR effects... Everything looked so good and exciting. But for this one, they didn't even try. The production was lacking severely and the AR effects were barely used. Everything looked rushed as if they didnt actually plan it set by set. The VCRs were just all the footages from other videos clamped together. There was nothing new or cool about this Beyond Live, even with the increased price. Overall, it looked cheap. I think, the only saving grace of this online concert were the boys themselves.

Secondly, the boys who covered for Taeyong did a good job. Obviously, no one can come close to even performing and delivering like Taeyong but the boys did fine, considering that they had to practice his parts for only 2-3 weeks. And it's a daunting task to fill such huge shoes. The pressure that the boys felt, especially the newbies Shotaro and Sungchan, to try to fill that gap, must have been immense.

But of course, NShittyzens took this as an opportunity to sh*t on Taeyong, saying stupid things like 'XYZ ate Taeyong up', 'ABC made Taeyong's song his own', 'MNO killed Taeyong's part and I think he should've been part of the original line-up instead of Taeyong', 'I hope my bias gets to shine now', 'My faves really took this "opportunity" and showed the world' etc.... Like??? Are you really that dense or just spewing bs like this cuz y'all want attention??? The same thing happened when Taeyong missed the KBS mid-year festival and the other boys covered for him for Kick It.

If y'all truly believe that you're bias only shines when Taeyong is absent, then it shows how insecure you are about you're faves talents and abilities. If you truly think Taeyong's injury is an "opportunity" for your fave, then there is clearly something wrong with you. If you think you're fave ate Taeyong up in any manner, then it shows that you just hate Taeyong. If you think Taeyong is replaceable, then you're doing piss poor job of convincing yourself. Taeyong doesn't need NCT, but NCT needs Taeyong.

He is not just the leader, but also the main dancer, main rapper, sub vocalist, the center of the group and the face of the group. He has also contributed to the group with over 30 songs and has choreographed for some of NCT songs. He is NCT's idea bank, with the numerous times he has come up with something new and interesting for their concepts or choreography (For Example: The Jungle Gym for Neo City tour, the epic finger move and Mark stepping on Taeyong for the Kick It choreography, the chandelier scene in MAW, etc) . Many professionals have constantly praised Taeyong for his creativity and excellent inputs.

Taeyong was there from the very beginning of NCT and has carried the group on his back for 4 years now. And he has always remained kind and humble, even with all the misdirected hate that he faced for years. He always puts himself down and praises all the members, no matter what. He has juggled between groups, 5 comebacks and numerous concerts, this year alone. His schedule list looks like the Bank Statement of one whole year. The way the man has worked for the past 2 years is insane. And upon that, the burden of being the leader of a group with 23 members??? Can y'all even imagine the amount of weight on Taeyong's shoulders???

And yes, the injuries he has constantly sustained for over 4 years now. We have seen various footages of him having neck braces, holding his waist and limping. He has also talked about the continuous back pain or how he was sick for 3 days after shooting a MV. SM had known exactly the extent of his injuries and still overworked him to the bone. Now his waist disc injury has relapsed and we still dont have a statement on his health or time of recovery on ANY of the SM Official Accounts. Not one word. We had to find out through a platform that's barely used and most non-twitteratti NCTzens didn't know about this whole ordeal until after the concert began.

What boils my blood is that SM knew about the relapsed injury way before, gave the boys enough time to practice Taeyong's part, but announced the concert by advertising Taeyong all over it, last Monday. And they literally only made the announcement after the concert ticket cancelation period was over. F*cking money whores! F*ck SM!!!!

The worst part of it all are the NShittyzens. Most of you didn't care about the fact that SM not only neglected the leader's health but also scammed Taeyong's fans. When TyongFs began to get refunds for the concert, some of you accused them and started dictating what they should do with their own money, pulling sh*t like- 'Taeyong as a leader, wants his group to do well. Now he would be sad knowing that fans dont care about the group cuz y'all are getting your refunds'. Really? Cuz most y'all who said this watched the concert illegally, makes it even more funny to me. And its none of you're business, how anyone else spends their money. And if you think Taeyong cares about SM losing money, then you're just stupid. If it's anyone in the whole group who'd say 'F*ck Capitalism!', it's Taeyong. So STFU!

Also, when TyongFs started demanding an official statement from SM about Taeyong, some of y'all went- "You're just a fan. Y'all dont have any right to cross the boundaries of Idol-Fan relationship and ask for personal stuff. Other artist fans didn't get any official statement, so why should you?'. We didnt ask for his f*cking medical records. We just want a statement from SM's official accounts about his health and his time of recovery. That's it. SM has refused to acknowledge the injuries of other artists before, doesn't mean that this pattern has to continue. And as fans, we are entitled to know about the artist, cuz WE CARE...! Cuz a waist disc injury relapsing aint a small thing. The amount of pain that Taeyong is probably enduring right now.... We dont even know the extent of it. We dont know how long he needs to recover or even how long SM will give him to rest. We don't know anything and we are scared. So just wanting a statement about it, isnt 'crossing the boundaries' as you put it. So again, STFU!

Y'all don't care about Taeyong, fine. The least you can do is respect him and not discredit his hardwork. After everything he has done and continues to do for NCT, y'all keep going with the 'Taeyong is the villain' narrative. He isn't stealing your faves lines or screentime. He isn't pushing them back to 'shine more'. He isnt the bad person you think he is. Y'all rejoicing now that he is injured, happy that your faves got to take up Taeyong's part or just hateful saying your fave was better than Taeyong.... It just ain't it.

No other group leader gets the kinda hate Taeyong does, even though he does 5 times the work for the group than any other leader. Yes, Taeyong has multiple positions the group, all deserved. Yes, he is a very charismatic and an amazing performer on the stage, that lures new fans in. Not his fault that he grabs everyone's attention. Yes, he is very talented in so many aspects. But that doesn't mean you get tobblame you're faves mistreatment on him, cuz he himself is being mistreated by SM. So don't come at me with you're 'SM's golden boy' bs! I will taze your ass and watch supernanny as you crawl under the carpet!

Maybe you're right about how you're faves dont get to shine enough when they're on the same stage as Taeyong, cuz his charisma and aura is very magnetic, you can't help but watch him and him only. I thought only TyongFs have this kinda tunnel vision but apparently, all of you have it as well....

Here's the thing. You don't like it when Taeyong gets praised all the time, whether its his dance or rap or anything at all. Cuz you don't like Taeyong. So why are you even focused on him and TyongFs. If I don't like anything, i simply ignore it. So instead of focusing on Taeyong, focus on hyping up your fave (again, by not dragging Taeyong, not even subtly). It ain't hard, trust me.

At least have the human decency to not rejoice over the fact that he is injured. The sh*t i see online everyday, some of y'all have totally lost it.

And lastly, no one can eat up Taeyong. No one can do his part better than him. Hell, no one can even come close to doing what he does. So get that delusion outta your heads. Its embarrassing.

#Taeyong #Lee Taeyong #Bubu #NCT #NCT 127 #NCT 2020 #Beyond Live #RESONANCE #Kick It #Respect Taeyong #Get Well Soon Yongie #We Miss You🌹#Take As Long You Want #We'll Wait #Thank You Taeyong #F*CK SM #F*CK NshittyZens #F*CK Taeyong Antis

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pluckyredhead · 4 years

Text

wip amnesty: super sons fake dating (but different)

So while I was working on It Wouldn’t Be Make Believe (If You Believed In Me), my brain abruptly gave me a completely different Super Sons fake dating scenario, insisted that I write two scenes, and then abandoned me entirely. There is like a 1% chance that I will ever finish this so instead I offer it up to you, my very patient friends. (Don’t worry, I have different Jon/Damian fics planned!)

Also, this completely ignores the Bendis run, because...well, you know why. SIGH.

Damian cast a weary eye over the guests assembled at the gala, the latest tribute of the Gotham elite to their own wealth and frivolity. He wasn’t even sure what this one was ostensibly raising money for, but he had a feeling most of that money had gone into the refreshments and entertainment rather than the intended charitable recipients.

He hated these things, but Father was in space with the Justice League, Richard was undercover, Drake was on Earth-3, and Todd was just generally unsuitable for public consumption. Once again it fell to Damian, as the heir to the Wayne name, to carry the entire family on his shoulders. He usually didn’t mind, except when it took the form of wearing a tuxedo and making small talk with empty-headed socialites.

Maybe the Riddler or someone would show up and try to steal everyone’s jewelry. That would be a pleasing diversion.

He saw Gracie Van Nuyck, daughter of one of the few Gotham families older than the Waynes, making her way over to him and quickly took out his phone. He was meant to be the latest irresponsible Wayne playboy; he could be rude and spend a whole party texting and not talking to anyone as long as he kept a stupid expression on his face.

He already had a few texts from Jon, he saw when he unlocked his phone.

giant kraken attacking honolulu

titans & i r teleporting over

u in?

Damian clicked his tongue.

I know you’re overriding your autocorrected capitalization to irritate me.

And I can’t. I have to attend this gala.

sucks 2 b u 🐟 🐠 🐬

“Damian Wayne.” Gracie had not been put off by his texting - in fact, she had her own phone in her hand. Damian dimly remembered that she’d once told him she was an “influencer.” She had influenced him pretty strongly to get as far away from her as possible, so he supposed she was good at what she did. “Look at you, all dressed up and looking like a snack.”

“Gracie,” he said. “Nice to see you.” He did not attempt to make it convincing, or glance up from his phone more than briefly.

Trust me, I’m aware. Everyone here is an imbecile and none of the hors d'oeuvres are vegetarian.

“Do you like my dress?” Gracie asked, giving a little twirl.

“Lovely.” Damian did not have Richard’s ability to give genuine compliments, or even Father’s ability to fake them well. It didn’t deter Gracie in the slightest.

“I have a proposition for you, you beautiful boy,” she said.

“I’m the same age as you.”

that blows. what about the orderbs?

Damian fought a smile. I also know you know how hors d’oeuvres is pronounced.

😂 😂 😉

“What’s that smile for?” Gracie asked.

Damian forced his facial expression back to neutral. “What’s your proposition?”

She held up her hands like she was illuminating a marquee. “Gotham’s new dream couple: Dacie. Or we could be Gramian, I guess, but that sounds horrible.”

“Excuse me?”

“You and me, joining forces,” she said. “Me and my millions and my beautiful body, you and your millions and your beautiful body...we’d be the toast of the glitterati.”

“You want to date me,” Damian said, flatly, disbelievingly. This was what Father and Richard’s inability to resist a pretty face had brought him to: being literally propositioned at parties by socialites who thought every Wayne was an easy mark.

“I want to date you,” she agreed. “It must be your lucky day. Well, night.”

Damian stared at her for a long moment, just enough to let it become uncomfortable. “No,” he said finally, and turned back to his phone.

once weve kicked this things ass i bet i can bring u some shave ice before it melts

Bring the kraken instead. It can eat everyone here.

“No?” Gracie repeated.

“No, thank you,” Damian said, as a sop to good manners.

He glanced up. She looked bewildered. It might be the first time she’d ever been told no in her life. “Why not?”

“I’m seeing someone,” he said. Totally untrue, but a reason she couldn’t argue with.

Not that she didn’t try. “Oh? Who’s the lucky girl?” she asked, her expression calculating.

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Not sure why you would assume pronouns,” he said, more to wrong foot her than anything else, though it was true that gender didn’t make much difference to him. He disliked most people equally.

Her eyes widened before she recovered herself. “My apologies,” she said. “Do I know...uh, them?”

Damian’s phone buzzed in his hand. It was a selfie of Jon, with Billy and Lian pulling faces behind him and a tentacle snaking through the air above their heads. Idiots. He fought another smile.

Stop taking selfies before you get drowned.

“It’s a long distance relationship,” he said. The last thing he needed was Gracie tracking down Colin or Maya or someone and pestering them.

no its cool we made friends with it

i gave it ur shave ice

sorry

“Oh?” Gracie asked. “Where do they live?”

Out of the corner of his eye Damian could see that she seemed to be on her phone too, so he felt even less bad about ignoring her. “Metropolis,” he said, because it was the first city he thought of. You traitor, he texted Jon.

“Innnteresting,” she said. “Well, it was worth a shot. See you around, hot stuff.” She brushed a kiss in the air near his cheek and sauntered off.

Damian blinked. That had been...relatively painless. Maybe the whole night would go by so quickly and easily.

He checked the time. Three and a half hours to go.

Tt.

Jon had heard the noise before he stepped outside, but he hadn’t really processed it. Metropolis was a noisy city, and if there were no gunshots or cries for help, he had gotten pretty good at tuning it out.

Which was why he was so surprised when he walked out of his apartment building to be confronted with a sea of reporters flashing cameras at him.

“Jon!”

“Jon Kent!”

“Jon, over here!”

His heart stopped. Had they somehow found out he was Superboy? Which meant they knew about Dad, and Mom was probably in danger, and all of his friends, and…

“Jon, long have you and Damian Wayne been dating?”

What?

“Back off, you vultures! Leave him alone!” Uncle Jimmy emerged from the crowd, red-faced and disheveled. He put one hand in front of Jon’s face and the other on his shoulder. “No comment! He has no comment! Come on, Jon, back inside.”

Thoroughly baffled, Jon allowed Uncle Jimmy to steer him back into the building.

“Hey, Frank, don’t let any of them in unless Mr. or Mrs. Lane-Kent says it’s cool, okay?” Uncle Jimmy said to the doorman.

Frank, who Jon had known since they moved here when he was ten, put his imposing frame in front of the door. “Absolutely not,” he said.

“Thanks, Frank,” Jon managed, and waited until he and Jimmy were in the elevator and out of sight of the reporters. “What the heck is going on?”

“You’re a social media sensation, kiddo,” Uncle Jimmy said, and held up his phone to display a picture of Damian wearing a tuxedo and looking elegantly bored. “Apparently Bruce Wayne’s kid told someone called ‘GraceFace’ that he was dating a boy who lived in Metropolis, and she told her three million Instagram followers. A bunch of them found this photo.” He swiped to show a slightly blurry picture of Jon and Damian in Centennial Park, clearly taken on a cell phone by someone moving quickly. Jon remembered that day but hadn’t realized anyone had recognized Damian, though it did happen. “And someone figured out your name.”

“And assumed I’m the boy Damian is dating in Metropolis,” Jon said, putting it together. “Wait. Is he dating someone in Metropolis? Did he mean me? Why would he say we were dating?”

Uncle Jimmy held up a finger. “No, first question before that: how the hell do you know Damian Wayne?”

“Uh.” Jon paused. Uncle Jimmy knew all about him and Dad, since he was basically Dad’s best friend, but not any Gotham secret identities, and Jon was pretty sure both Damian and Mr. Wayne wanted to keep it that way.

Uncle Jimmy’s eyes flicked to the counter that showed what floor they were on. “And before we get to your apartment...any chance you want to give me the exclusive on this saga of young love?”

Jon’s mouth dropped open. “Uncle Jimmy!”

“What? I’m a reporter, it’s in my blood!”

“I’m telling my mom you asked me that.”

“No, please, tell your dad. He can only heat vision me or throw me out the window. Either way it’ll be quick.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m telling Mom.”

#super sons #damian wayne #robin #jon kent #superboy #i write things #i love gracie and she should be canon

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flyandfamousblackgirls · 4 years

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RASHIDA RENEÉ WANTS YOU TO KNOW YOUR HISTORY by Alexis Rene Moten (Culture Jock)

Let’s start this article with a quiz: Name a Black model from the 1990’s that isn’t Naomi Campbell or Tyra Banks?

Stumped? It’s safe to say that if the question were asked to name a White model that wasn’t Kate Moss or Cyndi Crawford, best case scenario you would’ve excelled with a list to provide. Maybe something like: Linda Evangelista, Claudia Schiffer, Christy Turlington, Shalom Harlow, Carla Bruni, Heidi Klum..you get my point.

At times, Pop Culture can be a fair-weather friend. Monday’s It-girl becomes Friday’s nobody and by Sunday there’s a new hot thing in town to get all the girls in a fuss. But as nostalgia-trends rises as capitalism’s newest enterprise, endorsed largely by social media app, Instagram, history is being retold by the agenda of it’s curator. The selective hearing of Instagram accounts like @90scelebvibes (391K followers) and @90sanxiety (793K followers) present a facade that the past was rather beige, leaving largely out the credit due to the Black and people of color creatives that developed and inspired the trends imitated today.

Bay area based, Fashion archivist Rashida Reneé, takes on self-love to a familial level celebrating her love and the appreciation of Black designers, models and other fashion industry influencers that otherwise go forgotten in our modern culture. In fashion, as in anything else, things old become anew. However, Reneé takes on the responsibility as a trend gatekeeper, providing evidence of what fashion used to be and recognizing the faces we longed forgotten.

Q: Name a Black model from the 1990’s that isn’t Naomi Campbell or Tyra Banks?

A: Beverly Peele, Gail O’Neill, Iman, Kara, Young, Karen Alexander, Louise Vyent, Roshumba, Veronica Webb, etc.

Culture Jock: What is a typical day for the most hated hoe in the city?

RR: (laughs) It’s weird, I kind of like to keep it to myself. Keep track of what I like and my thoughts. I don’t know. I'm very low-key person in real life, but when I do leave the house (pauses) I do, I promise! I just like my personal time, but when it’s time to be out I am present, as much as possible. I do what I do becauseII like giving information to people and give them links and information just so they know.

CJ: What brought you into fashion archiving?

RR: My whole archiving process was originally for myself and filling in spots of information where there it was empty of black people. Of course, there is street fashion, but in terms of online fashion, sites like Manrepeller, you didn’t see a lot of black girls doing it and the people doing it I thought were lame. Finding other black people who weren’t anti-black in those kind of spaces. I felt a lot of people were trying to make us to assimilate. Everyone was kind of like doing the same things and it was like, ‘Naomi Campbell!’ But if it were any other dark girl it didn’t matter. So, I started my own blog and then I had to stop myself from posting Naomi Campbell’s photos too. I would do one picture of Naomi Campbell a day and try to really give props to other black woman involved and black people in general. When I was younger I was familiar with the other models not just Naomi Campbell, my mom was really in it with Naomi. She worked in a beauty salon, which had magazines of all the models. Like, black hair magazines, they always listed the models so, no matter what you knew who they were. Whoever it was in the 90s, ‘this is who that is and this who that is.’ You’d see the oldest Destiny Child’s video shoots in black hair magazines. I just haven’t seen other people doing that. There are other girls now that focus more on Hip Hop in 90s and 2000s. Livejournal, fashion spot, Tumblr, people didn’t go out of their way to scan the black models or even try to name them. It’s funny, people online, they don’t even try to hide their biases. No one was really fashion blogging the way I like or how I see .

CJ:In your piece for Office Magazine you mention, from Patrick Kelley to today’s influence of Dapper Dan, American culture from its roots drips of Black influence and culture. Why do you think Black culture is so immutable and where do you see the ownership of our creations.

RR: People I mean know, it’s just like, it’s weird and odd to even talk about. Not just people referencing me or copying, I feel like I am being gaslit all the time or being told that. People love stealing from black people. People love stealing from black people. People love stealing from black people and lying about it. People hate black people but they think we are cool. I can’t even (pauses)yeah it’s very weird. The twitter thing is weird (sighs).

CJ: It is weird.

RR: (sighs) It’s not really helping them. It’s boring to live with no personality. To see someone interesting and steal from them to bolster themselves. [On social media] we have the means to share with each other, like, moments that are of shared experiences of oppression and that is even imitated. I don’t know why the copy of things are okay. It is such a multi-layered thing. Or the way the Stans talk like mainly the Black queer and Black trans talk and how all of that is now being used by everyone. Ariana Grande, ya know, icons talk like girls on the ballrooms did back in 2006. Parodying things. It helps them develop their own brand, I don’t understand their fascination with us anyway. I’m into my own shit and own culture. I like the way black people express themselves and other people use us and what we do to talk to each other or communicate and then take that to feel cool. I’ve always been,like, ‘why would someone want to be like this?’ or pretend. I don’t get it. People run out of content. I know people used to make fun of me and the things I used to be and ironically they are into it now. People need to find their own hobbies. They are bored.

CJ: The internet is complex. It’s a parody of itself.

RR: Knowing your history is important. You need to know where you came from to know where you are going. When it comes to fashion archives the question is, ‘what is it that you are looking for or trying to highlight?’ My concern is that fashion archiving is feeding into nostalgic trends, where it’s easier to mimic what was done before rather then create new moments. Do you share the same sentiments?

CJ: What is it about fashion that excites you?

RR: It’s so fun and so funny. The dolls are taking over. That’s how most things go, the things that happened come back with a hyper focus. It really is going full out now. It’s interesting to see how people are dressing now. [Fashion] is always reflective of the political climate. Think about the 80s everyone is dressing like a dickhead. Then when people got sick of dressing like a dickhead, minimalism comes in. We cycle through trends so fast, today. I remember a girl wearing a hair clips and no one was into it. Then the next week everyone was wearing them, then I see Cyndi Lauper in an interview wearing hair clips. She’s like 50-something and she’s wearing hair clips made out of Swarovski crystals. It’s so interesting. It’s funny how it happens. Now everyone is into fashion.

CJ: Who are your biggest fashion influences ?

RR: My biggest influences are Naomi Campbell and my mom. Girls I follow on the internet. My mom is from San Francisco lives her own life and is very eclectic. I get a lot from her and different taste. Foxy Brown is also very inspiring, I reference her a lot I think about her and Steven Miesel. Steven knows how to do everything. Steven can do everything. Everyone knows I am a crazy Beyoncé fan. But, I have different girls for different moods. My main inspo is Naomi and Foxy Brown. I really gravitated to Foxy because she was more into Prada and Chloe when Stella McCartney was there. Because of Foxy I love Chloe. She was very cool. Naomi is, you just aspire to that level of greatness. There is no one else. Even in her flaws she handles them so well. I can’t imagine someone else with that kind of rap sheet to not get fully canceled. I judge people by how they react to criticism. She handles it really well. I find that really inspiring.

CJ: What film or television do you think has the best fashion catalog? If you could what character's closet would you love to raid?

RR: I am so frazzled. There’s so much stuff I like. I write things down specifically, because I can never remember. I watched The Nanny last year with Fran Drescher, when I was really depressed and was like, ‘Wow this is inspiring.’ Brenda Cooper, her mind. Everyone had a look in. Pose, is another one. Everything has intentions from the main characters to the background characters. I really like the first season of costume design. It’s commitment to that era. Someone is always dressed like, Karen White or Jodi Whitley. Elektra is very dynasty, that high lady energy. I love that about the show. I love Glow, the costume designer, Beth Morgan. I love when people do era shows, specifically the 80s and they don’t try to soften it, especially in makeup or hair. They aren’t scared to embrace the ugliness, I love that. That’s what good costume design is about. High fashion is easy, but what really gets me is watching old movies and looking at the clothes.

CJ: We are moving into a new decade of 2020. I have a feeling it may be the year of 2020 vision and final clarity. What are your aspirations for this new era and what do you hope to see from the world?

RR: I feel like the children are our future. That’s what I’m looking at, to see what the kids are into. People are more focused into what they look like and I remember if someone dressed a little bit out of fashion it was a huge deal and get talked about. But now they are embracing their weirdness and experimenting. Do you watch that Tik Tok stuff? I just want a regular life. Happy, healthy, all my kids are happy and healthy. When I move to [Los Angeles] and get hotter, hotter and I want to become, what is that called, a wellness person? I want a Goop moment, but with Solange aesthetics. Maybe make a propaganda film to get people to stop wearing wigs.

#Rashida Reneé #Rashida Renee #Foxy Brown #Naomi Campbell #Beyoncé #Black fashion

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anonniemousefics · 4 years

Text

Wildfire

Originally posted on Ao3

Fandoms: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom | Kaz + Inej

Word count: 5,566

****Rating: NSFW (aged-up characters) -- It’s good and smutty.****

This belongs in The Trouble With Wanting series, best read after These Damn Crosswinds.

TW for mentions of PTSD, sexual trauma. And also a cliffhanger, but only kinda. The rest is on Ao3 if you really can’t wait. I’m just slow at migrating this stuff over.

Synopsis: The morning after a difficult first night in Kaz's bed brings a number of surprises, both good and terrible.

Inej Ghafa lived for the moments when she could see something entirely new. It was the sea captain in her, the song of her soul that called to new horizons.

So it was a salve to her aching soul that morning to wake up first, to look across the great expanse of white sheets on Kaz Brekker’s enormous new bed, and see him sleeping peacefully there. She’d never seen this side of him before, looking so boyish, lying on his stomach, one cheek smooshed into the pillow. His dark hair was mussed across his forehead, and he was so still, she resisted the urge to lay a hand on his back muscles to check on him. But she knew better than to startle him with a brush of bare skin in the morning.

Instead, she rolled onto her back, drawing in a deep breath into her heartsick chest while she stared up at the newly-vaulted ceilings of Kaz’s renovated Slat. Her head throbbed as if she was hungover. She wiped a hand over her sandy eyelashes, a first attempt to wipe away the debris of a freshly opened wound.

She’d fallen asleep on top of the blankets, fully clothed, like a crazy woman. She rather wished she hadn’t. The bed was irresistibly comfortable, as evidenced by Kaz’s rare deep slumber, and it was big enough that she had been able to sleep so far from his body warmth that she may as well have slept alone. She wished she hadn’t needed that, too.

She wished a lot of things. This was not how she’d wanted to spend her first night in Kaz’s bed.

No one else would have noticed how excited Kaz was to show her the changes to The Slat, but Inej could see it, no matter how hard he tried to play it cool. She saw it in the way he bit the inside of his lip to hold back his smile, saw the light in his coffee-black eyes, the crooked quirk in his dark eyebrows. Kaz Brekker was happy. Whatever he’d done to The Slat had brought back a little spring in his step.

He had a newspaper slung under one arm as he rattled the skeleton key in the door’s lock. She jabbed at it, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Is your new spider really this bad?” she joked. “You’re having to buy papers like everyone else on the streets?”

She expected him to snark back, maybe tease her about spying for him again, but, instead, there was an almost imperceptible tension that arose. His jaw tightened. He swallowed a moment.

“Suspected firepox case was reported last night. It’s not right to send a spider out to confirm.” He said it as casually as if he was commenting on the weather, but Inej was already grabbing the paper from under his arm.

There was nothing the Kerch feared more than firepox. Highly contagious disease was the one thing their money couldn’t buy their way out of. And, of all rich Kerch men, Kaz had reason to fear it the most. No one else in Ketterdam knew its horrors like quite like Kaz.

Sure enough, the headlines plastering the Ketterdam Ledger above the fold were all about a single patient being quarantined in the capital’s hospital. Every word attempted to soothe rattled citizens that their mediks had the situation under control. There were no plans to sound the alarms yet.

And this is what she was gazing over when the sketch of a familiar face caught her eye and immediately froze her insides. They had stepped into The Slat, smelling of fresh wood floors and new paint, and somewhere in her, she knew she ought to have been looking it over, letting Kaz guide her through this grand unveiling, but now she was caught. She couldn’t look away from the horrible newsprint in front of her.

“Inej?” Kaz’s voice sounded like it was underwater. The perimeter of her vision grew fuzzy and grey, a tunnel surrounding the words on the page.

The headlines were calling the man the Butcher of the Barrel, and she would have known his face anywhere, even though Tante Heleen had never told her the names of her clients. The girls all grew quiet when he came to call, trying to press themselves into the darkness to avoid his gaze. He liked it when girls cried.

Now that seemed to be the least evil aspect of him.

Inej was looking over the names of the victims and didn’t feel her knees start to give out.

“Inej!” Kaz caught her by the forearms before she went down, holding her to his body. “Inej, what is it?”

She thrust a shaking arm at him, pushing the newspaper back into his hands. Sweat prickled across her forehead as she stepped back, her mind a whirl of suddenly vivid memories. She wrapped her arms around herself while Kaz looked over the headlines.

“This one?” he asked, holding up the sketch. “This murderer the Stadwatch arrested?”

Inej could only nod. She could smell the man’s foul scent even now, cheap ale and sausages and kitchen grease. She could feel his rough, thick hands against her bones, the ache of bruises he left behind. His slick, wet tongue in her ear, hissing the name Tante Heleen had given her. “Little Lynx. Are you going to cry, little Lynx?”

Kaz was folding up the paper, tossing it to his desk. His eyes had darkened, his lips pursed tight.

“I can take care of this.” From the low gravel in his voice, Inej knew he understood. At least half of it.

“Kaz.” Saints, was that her voice? She sounded like a small girl. “The murders he’s been charged with. The three girls.”

Kaz flicked a hard gaze her direction, already scheming.

“Lena. Nadya. Mayu. I knew them each, before they disappeared. They were all…” Why was her voice failing her so badly?

“The Menagerie,” Kaz said for her, and Inej nodded. Her chest felt tight, and she tried to draw in a breath.

“He picked his victims from The Menagerie, Kaz,” she choked. “I saw him there. He was--” She couldn’t say it. As much as she hated the memories, she hated even more for Kaz to remember what she had done there. Hot tears were coming fast now. “It could have been me. I could have--”

Kaz was rummaging through his desk drawer, dumping ammunition out across his desktop.

“Kaz.” She tried to make her voice sound stronger. “Kaz, stop.”

“You know this has to be done,” Kaz rasped. He barely glanced up as he loaded his revolver.

She did know. Men like this paid for the best lawyers, bribed judges, negotiated light sentences. Men like this blamed girls, claimed self-defense or accidents or amnesia, any absurdity but their own evil. Men like this deserved to bleed.

“Kaz,” she still chided.

“Do not ask me to be a better man to this filth,” Kaz snapped, sharply. “I am not, and I won’t. You should be giving me names--”

“They never gave me their names.” Something new was rising in Inej as her head spun and her face burned. Something furious. And her voice rose. “And even if they did, these are my scores to settle. You have no right to their names. You have no right to rob me of my justice.”

“They touched you.” Kaz’s face flushed a livid red, the sinew in his neck visible when he yelled. “They touched my--” But he stopped himself, mouth twitching. He planted his clenched fists on his desk as Inej glared at him, daring him to finish. “This is personal,” was all he said when he picked up his gun again.

This man. This infuriating man. One minute she loved him, the next minute she was ready to strangle him. How could he simultaneously be so clever and yet so stupid?

“It is not your score to settle,” Inej said, firmly, and then as he slipped the revolver in his pocket, she grew desperate. “If you leave tonight and deny me this, Kaz Brekker, I will never forgive you.”

Kaz’s glare was flint and steel when he froze, but she kept herself standing tall and firm. Finally, after what felt like ages inside a moment, he huffed a relinquishing sigh.

“What is it you want.” It didn’t come out as a question, and Inej felt raw from the entire exchange.

What did she want? She couldn’t say. Moments that had once felt long forgotten now crawled across her skin and licked at her ear. She felt small and helpless, a feeling she had worked for years to never feel again. She thought of the three girls, of Lena and Nadya and Mayu, and how they had cowered in fear of this butcher just as she had, how small and helpless they had been, too. How that was the last of this world they had known. She wanted to remember them differently. She wanted to rewrite their ending. She wanted moments they would all never have, moments killing this man tonight would never bring.

And Kaz stood, waiting with his jaw tight, oblivious and belligerent, and Inej felt the tears sting her eyes. It took only a moment for Kaz to become the unfortunate lightning rod for the storm brewing inside of her.

“You have the emotional intelligence of a bearded goat,” she seethed at him, her voice trembling, and she swore in Suli and crawled into bed.

“Why a bearded goat?” Kaz was the first to break the silence of the early morning. The gentle burr of his voice was thick and rumbly from sleep. When Inej looked at him, feeling considerably more tender than the night before, he still hadn’t opened his eyes, his bare arms shoved under his pillow.

“They have dumb faces,” Inej said.

“Because of the beard?” Kaz lifted his dark eyebrows, his sleep-swollen eyes still shut.

“Mhmm.”

“Got it.”

She watched him stretch and roll onto his back, groaning as joints in his bad leg cracked and complained. To his credit, he had not tried to fight further the night before. She wouldn’t have had the energy to anyway. The onslaught of visceral memories from The Menagerie had overwhelmed her completely, and her eyes had leaked silent tears while she waited for sleep’s escape. She’d been vaguely aware that Kaz had lain next to her, but she’d wanted nothing from him. At some point, they had both fallen asleep.

“Thank you for staying,” Inej said, in the light of the dawn. Kaz scrubbed his hands over his face with a deep sigh. He was rolling out his bad ankle in slow, painful circles beneath the white sheets.

“You were right,” he rasped after a moment, looking over the pillows at her and Inej blinked in surprise. The bed was enormous; he suddenly seemed so far away.

“I want that in writing,” Inej said, narrowing her eyes, and Kaz quirked a tired smirk as he rolled over on his side to face her. Inej felt drawn to the warmth in his sleepy, coffee-black eyes, the paradox of the delicate lashes that framed them.

“The thought of what they did to you,” he said, his voice tight, “that anyone could do that to you – I just --” He pushed his hair off his forehead as he scrambled for words. Inej found herself staring at the swell of his bicep. “I know it’s your score to settle. I know it’s your battle to fight. But I hate myself for not seeing you sooner. For not sparing you this. I’ve tried for years to make it right--”

“There is nothing in this for you to make right,” Inej interrupted. “We were kids.” She rolled to her side to face him.

“I was perfectly capable of ripping out throats then,” Kaz countered. “I was too blinded by revenge to see what was happening to you.”

“Is there nothing on this earth you won’t blame yourself for? You are not responsible for their choices, Kaz, nor should you be held responsible for stopping them. You were fifteen--”

“I was old enough to see what you were light and magic and everything good in the world. I was old enough to fall in love with you.” His words caught her breath in her throat. He’d put down his armor before, but never quite like this. “I was old enough to avenge you, too.”

“Kaz…” she breathed, and stretched out a hand across the expanse of bed between them. His expression still weighed heavy as he entwined their fingers, looking over her dark hand in his pale one.

“Do you know what I thought the moment I first saw you?” he asked, venturing a glance in her direction. Inej shook her head as she tucked one arm under her pillow.

“I thought to myself, ‘This girl could have killed me just now,’” Kaz went on, without a trace of jest. “Animals that are caged go one of two ways. They either end up lying in a corner and hiding from everything, or they start to rage and lash out and bite and tear at any hand that gets near them. And I saw that rage in you, and I knew I couldn’t risk you falling to the Dime Lions. I knew I needed you on my side.”

“So, it wasn’t love at first sight, is what you’re telling me.” Inej raised a wary eyebrow.

“I’m telling you that what happened to those girls could never have happened to you,” Kaz said. “I told you that you were dangerous, and I have always meant it. I’m willing to bet the butcher knew it, too. That’s…that’s all I should have said last night.”

Inej ran her thumb over his scarred knuckles, looking over their laced fingers and the weight of memories they both held. There was a time when she would have rushed right out for first blood. But there was something more valuable, she was learning, in the space she took to grieve, to lay down her armor, to share the burden with the one who loved her. And he had proved, yet again, it was not too much to bear.

The time for blood would come. For now, all she wanted was Kaz.

“I sound like someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with,” she teased.

“Yes, well,” Kaz gave her that irresistible smirk, “I don’t claim to have the soundest judgment in that area.”

“And my house has far too much glass for me to be throwing stones,” Inej said with a wink, toying with his fingers in hers til he grinned.

“Come here and kiss me,” he begged.

“Say ‘please.’” She pressed back a smile.

“Inej, my darling,” Kaz began to edge closer to her, the covers sliding across his bare torso, “treasure of my heart, love of my life,” and he tucked one arm under her pillow, leaning next to her as she smiled up at him, “for gods’ sake, please kiss me already.”

And Inej took his face in her hands and pulled him down to her, a kiss wholly unlike any she’d felt yet. Perhaps it was the words he’d said that gave the kiss its sweetness. Or the sincerity in his dark eyes that give it its fire. Whatever was to blame, Inej found herself turning towards him to match his fervor, her body like a magnet pulled toward his. He ran one hand along her rib cage, and his fingertips brushed against her midriff as her top slid upward. Saints, those lockpick fingers. If the Saints had ever known the tenderness of a thief’s hands, they would never have declared them sinners.

She sighed against his mouth as Kaz ran gentle fingertips up her spine, beneath her shirt. From the crooked smirk she saw on his lips when she pulled back, she could tell he relished how she reacted, the cheeky bastard.

“Have I said I was sorry?” he murmured when their foreheads touched. His sly fingers were drawing lazy circles across her back, and each slow turn released achy tension she’d held inside of her since the moment she saw the butcher’s face in the paper.

“You have not,” she sighed, her eyes slipping closed.

A soft kiss against her forehead. Slow, steady circles across her shoulder blades.

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “Ghezen strike me dead if I ever rob you of your justice.”

“You don’t believe in Ghezen.”

“One of your Saints, then. Pick the baddest, meanest bloke. That one.”

“No.” Inej squirmed a little closer into his warmth, tucking her head into his neck.

“No?” She felt his voice rumble in his chest.

“No,” she repeated. “I like you too much to risk it.”

She could feel the smile on his cheek pressed against her hair, and she breathed in his scent, soap-clean and musky. Here, she was worlds away from the men who’d used her, the people who tried to destroy her. Her story would always contain their faces and their misdeeds. That was inescapable. But here, in Kaz’s hands, her story could take a new turn.

Here, physical intimacy was made of completely new sights, sensations, even scents. Here was her exception. Here it was different. Here she would always be safe.

She knew this deep in her bones, curled against him, his fingertips brushing against the smooth planes of her back. She could have stayed all day there. As it was, she lost track of how much time had passed. She simply closed her eyes and let him hold her.

But then, slowly, she felt his hand slide out of her shirt, linger at her hip for just a moment, before Kaz began to inch out from under her, toward the far-off edge of the bed. He must have thought she’d fallen asleep.

“Don’t go,” she said, reaching for his wrist.

“I have work, love,” and Kaz leaned over to kiss her lips once more. “You can come, too, if you want. Or stay. The bed’s for you as much as it is for me.”

But Inej wasn’t interested in taking no for an answer. They��d wasted their whole first evening in the newly renovated Slat because of some stupid newspaper. All she could see now was the boy who’d loved her for ages, the man she’d been counting down the days to hold again.

“You’re a Barrel boss. Show up when you want.” She tugged playfully at the loose waistband of his sleeping trousers, and added, as if her mouth suddenly had a mind of its own: “Work on me instead.”

Kaz’s dark eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline as she pulled again at his trousers, a teasing smirk on her kiss-swollen lips.

“Fucking hell, Inej,” he swore, but he wasn’t putting up much of a fight. She stifled a chuckle when she pushed herself upright. She took his face in one hand and pulled him down to her again. The unshaven stubble on his jawline was rough against her palm, but his mouth was as soft as her dreams of him at sea. He gave a relinquishing sigh against her lips as she moved her hands to his hair, raking her fingernails against his scalp. She could feel his body giving in, growing as careless as she was about the time, his hands sliding over her hip bones as she pulled him up against her body again.

And, for the first time, she wanted his body over hers, to feel engulfed against his solid muscles, to be his entirely. Her exception. Her haven. She ran her hands over his wide shoulders, down the slopes of his back muscles, and pulled his waist toward hers.

“Leg.” Kaz pulled back with a sharp wince and a grunt, as he tried to shift his body so his bad leg wouldn’t bear his weight.

“Sorry!” Inej was instantly apologetic. “Damn, this makes me the bearded goat now.”

Kaz huffed a strained laugh as he shifted between her legs, bracing himself with his arms over her while he tried to find a comfortable balance. And Inej found herself staring at the corded muscle in his arms, the tattoos on his forearm and bicep, the hard planes down his chest and torso, and she was seized with the need to know if the rest of him could feel as wonderful as his hands against the rest of her.

And while he was still adjusting his weight, she quickly, without much thought at all, crossed her arms in front of her, grabbed the hem of her shirt, and pulled it off over her head. The cotton sheets felt smooth and cool beneath her bare back.

Kaz froze, wide-eyed in surprise. That would never get old.

“Is this all right for your leg?” Inej asked beneath him.

“What?” Kaz looked mesmerized. “I don’t know, maybe, it’s fine.”

And Inej laughed as he eagerly lowered himself onto his elbows, and she thought she heard his breath catch when her breasts pressed against his bare chest. She let her hands explore the smooth skin across the breadth of his back while he buried his face in her neck, kissing her throat, her collarbone, nipping at her earlobe. His breath was warm against her ear, sending shivers dancing down her spine.

When he ran one hand over her rib cage, to softly cup underneath her breast, Inej gripped at his waist with her thighs, desperate only to feel closer to him. No one had ever felt like this against her, but then, she’d never wanted someone so completely. No one had ever taken so much time and care to unlock her secrets, to know what she craved.

“I love you,” she whispered. It leapt from her lips like it had been cut free.

When Kaz pulled back when he’d heard it, his dark hair had fallen in his eyes, his sharp cheekbones flushed. And he kissed her fiercely, cupping her cheek, parting her lips gently with his tongue.

“I love you,” he told her when they each took a breath, and Inej couldn’t help smiling while he kissed her again. “I always have. I always will.”

Inej’s heart was soaring, slamming against her rib cage, as she melted beneath his lips. She nipped at his bottom lip and let him flick his tongue against hers while his hands roamed freely across her body, her breasts, her waist, the underside of her thighs, like he couldn’t get enough, couldn’t decide where to land. And Inej’s breath grew ragged – how many nights at sea had she imagined having his hands on her like this? Desire spread like wildfire through her veins, pooling between her legs as she rolled her hips against his.

At the movement, he shot her a surprised glance, his breath shallow, his swollen lips parted. So, she did it again, a silent reassurance that she was with him, that she wasn’t vanishing. That she wanted. And when he moved to repeat her motion, a little stiff and awkward at first while he delicately tried to keep weight off his bad leg, she felt the hard press of his full erection against her center, rubbing just right against her, and she drew in a breath, welcoming the small rush of pleasure.

She slid her hands down to the hard muscle near the base of his spine, pressing him against her again, grinding up against his hardness so that he groaned in the back of his throat when his lips brushed her neck again.

A year ago, she’d only wished the ghosts of her pasts could be so efficiently exorcised. Now, the haunts of the previous night lived where they belonged – in the past. Now, there was only the man she loved, who loved her, and the all-encompassing longing that overtook her mind, her heart, her body. She wanted every inch of him, anything he could give her.

He was pushing himself up off her body, to put more weight against his hard cock as it rubbed against her folds through her trousers, and she slid her fingers down over his tense abdomen, hungry for more of him. She skimmed over his thin trail of jet-black hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers, before hooking her thumbs in the fabric and giving a little tug.

A question. A request. A silent plea.

Kaz stopped and looked over her face, panting even as he examined her expression.

“Are you sure?” His brow was furrowed. How many times had new territory only unleashed new demons? She both loved and regretted his careful consideration.

She bit her lip as she nodded. He had stoked the fire in her, and now it raged, desperate, unquenchable. It was worth the risk. And, as if to up the ante and force his hand, she slipped her fingers into her own trousers and began to slide them off.

“Let’s just try.” Her whisper was laced with lust.

“Try,” Kaz echoed. He pushed himself to one side of her as she removed her trousers, lying bare beside him. She watched the rise and fall of his chest as she did, taking in how nervous he was. Hoping she wasn’t pushing them too far.

But then again, they had survived every disappointment, every setback so far. This was who they were. They never stopped fighting.

And this was one battle she had never felt so desperate to fight.

“Is this all right?” she checked. She would always check.

This time, though, Kaz released a tense puff of air.

“You’re asking me?” His brows cinched together in disbelief. “You do remember you called me a bearded goat not even twelve bells ago?”

“And you called me an investment once, and yet, here we are.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

“…shit. Inej, you have terrible taste in men.”

“Fine, then, I’ll put my clothes back on.”

“Counter offer,” Kaz interjected, desperately pulling her close to his body once more as she grinned, “I settle the debt. I make it up to you.”

“Interesting.” This ridiculous man. As if he had anything to make up to her. But she did enjoy his games. “I’ll hear your proposal, Brekker.”

Instead, he bent his head to kiss the base of her throat, to brush his lips over her sternum as her gently stroked one of her nipples with a thumb. Her face felt hot as she drew in a breath, and he glanced up with a mischievous smirk as he slowly shifted his body over hers again. And he began to trail slow, methodical kisses down her body: over her breasts, down to her navel, stroking her waist, her hips as he moved down back between her legs.

She found she was holding her breath in anticipation as he ran his long fingers through the spangle of soft curls over her cunt, his dark eyes always watching her, calculating and careful. He bent his head to gently kiss the soft, tender skin on the inside of her thighs, and she propped herself up on her elbows, in fascination. His kisses up her legs were as soft as a bird’s wing, barely there and yet all she could feel.

And then she gasped in spite of herself, her eyes fluttering, as he left a slow, hot kiss against her clit.

“A decent offer?” Kaz rasped, and stroked the inside of her folds with the back of one finger.

“Saints, Kaz,” was all she could breathe, abandoning all pretense of wit. Kaz just chuckled as he pressed his lips back into against her clit.

She sighed, dropping from her elbows, flopping into the pillows, as Kaz wrapped his arms under her hips, his hands at her waist. His tongue worked in slow, gentle strokes up the strip of her folds, and she’d never even dared to hope a man could make her feel so good.

His breath was hot against her cunt as he gently sucked at her soft, wet lips, and it made her fingers twist in the white sheets. Suli curses were brimming on her tongue, and she bit her lip, the swirl of sensation and warmth and desire spiraling up through her body. And fuck, he had learned her quickly. She could sense his attention fixated on her, sense it in the way he changed pace, changed pressure, ever so slightly, every time her breath caught, her body writhed, her voice betrayed her. If this was how he would settle their debts from now on, she’d let him borrow from her every goddamn day.

He was driving her to the brink, and she would fall willingly, hard and fast. Her toes were curling as his mouth moved quickly over her pussy, and he brought one hand from her waist, and just as she was praying his fingers would work her like they had in the bathroom at the Geldrenner, he was pushing in one finger and then two, caressing her ridges while his tongue stroked against her clit.

The curses she’d been holding back where no match for it. Her whole body was taut, barely containing the tension and the flames he fanned. Her back arched; she swore loud enough, she worried people on the streets below would hear. And soon after a wave of intense pleasure exploded from her core, rattling up her spine, sending her whole body quaking beneath his hands.

Her heart raced underneath her palm as she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath. She hadn’t realized she’d broken a sweat. When she opened her eyes again, Kaz had worked his way back up beside her on the bed, with a smug look on his face.

“You bastard,” she panted, poking him in the chest.

“Excuse you,” he raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not sorry.” She heaved a deep, satisfied sigh. “If this is how you make up, I’m going to fight you every day.”

And Kaz gave a chuckle, leaning down to kiss her.

“Your turn,” she said when he sat back, and his grin grew wider as he fumbled with the drawstring on his waistband.

But then, the alarm bells began to sound.

The actual fucking alarm bells.

Inej was toying with his trousers, slipping her fingers beneath the fabric over his hip bones, when the peal of bells broke through the dawn air, echoing through the streets of Ketterdam. And she stopped, cocking her head to one side, as she looked up at Kaz.

“Is that--?” she started, but from the way the color drained from his face, she didn’t need to ask more.

Ketterdam had built these bells for one purpose, for the Kerch’s worst nightmare: the plague. The Dregs had used this to their advantage once before, a false epidemic to stage an escape. But this wasn’t fake.

Kaz had leapt from the bed to limp to the window as Inej began hurriedly pulling on her trousers. Now she was recalling the other headlines she’d forgotten from the night before, emblazoned over the top half of the Ketterdam Ledger.

Firepox.

The necrotic infection moved faster and killed quicker than any butcher that lurked these streets. Its body count was higher than any Barrel boss’. Kaz still fought the ghosts of its victims, all these years later.

Inej was pulling her shirt back over her head as Kaz leaned out the open window. Shouting and hurried footsteps over cobblestones echoed up from the streets. Mediks and Stadwatch were cordoning off every block, quarantining everyone in their homes.

“What are you doing?” Kaz had turned back to her as Inej laced up her boots, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I have to get back to my ship,” she replied, “before they seal off the harbor.”

“It’s already too late.” There was something oddly hollow about Kaz’s voice. “The docks are the first thing they’ll close off. No one in, no one out.”

“I have to try,” Inej insisted. “My crew--”

“They will blow you out of the water before they allow a potentially infected ship out of these harbors,” Kaz snapped. “Don’t be a fool.”

“Then I have to make sure my crew is safe.”

“No one is safe, Inej. This isn’t some gang of thugs you can fight off--”

“Spare me your condescension; I know exactly what this is. That’s why I have to hurry.”

The legs of Kaz’s desk chair scraped against the floor as he sat down hard in it, wincing as he stretched out his bad leg. He closed his eyes tight as he gripped at his aching knee. She could only imagine how impossibly heavy this moment weighed on him, but she was a captain and she could not abandon her crew.

“Go.” His voice rasped hard like gravel. “Get as far away from here as you can.”

Inej crossed to him and reached out to hold his face, but he jerked his head away at the last moment.

“I love you,” she repeated, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I will not be gone long. We will pick up where we left off.”

He hadn’t moved when she jumped up on the windowsill. She gave him one quick glance over her shoulder, knowing she would be back in only a few hours, before slipping out over the rooftops.

Read the conclusion here: Stars In The Darkness

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