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#his human design is perfect so i tried hahaha
aliciagemsilica · 16 days
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Diasomnia Boy gift s/o an evening gown to attend the NRC & RSA ball tgt Headcanon
Following from my dress sketch design if you haven’t seen it here . They are base from Glorious Masquerade & Playful land events. Basically a sequence I imagine while drawing the dresses XD I also want to mention that when it’s finish 🥺 you can draw it on your oc and even tweak a bit detail to fit your Yuu or OC. It’s meant to be share with everyone, not just my Yuu.
⚠️ Bad English……. I have no idea what is grammar . 😂
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Imagine a ball between NRC and RSA happening maybe sometime after chapter 7. All students are invited but you are troubling since you have no dress to wear. And for the love of the great seven. Your beloved head master, Crowley just allowed you to join in your NRC uniform……….. great! So much for your kindness!!
Guess who will be the photographer and a background character on this event…..hahaha………
Well maybe you whine too much in front of the wishing well. Someone comes up with a plan. A plan that would make you believe in a fairytale once again!
╰══• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •══╯
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𝔐𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔲𝔰 🐉
You had to be blind to not suspect anything……
Lately Mal is a bit touchy. Not that he isn’t normally but this is different. Sometimes he holds your wrist while mumbles something while going on a night stroll. Sometimes he stares at you and gets lost in his thoughts. He even stands just in front of you and tries to lift you up once.
You are so confused and a bit embarrassed when he asks about your height so you call for support. The Diasomnia’s family counselor aka. Lilia Vanrouge. You went all the way to Diasomnia dorm without telling anyone and sneak in to see Lilia.
But
…….
…..
…………
Is he………….
Is he dancing with a dress just now??
Surprisingly you just witness your dragon boyfriend practicing a dance with a beautiful dress. He hummed ‘that song’ while spinning with the dress. What a beautiful princess gown with dark green silk. It looks so shiny and smooth, something that would delicately touch her skin while being held in that big palm. Imagine how soft that hand craft lace feels when on your chest. He did not spare any piece of jewellery from his procession. He keep bring in dazzling earrings and necklaces to test it with the gown. He would have use the heart of his collection to craft a piece of accessories for you if he doesn’t want to save it for something later in the year. You can see a magical golden thread and needle weaving delicate patterns on the skirt as he continues the dance. Every angle……Every turn………..Malleus is creating a masterpiece. He did it………..for you…….for his princess.
Your face is burning from the love of this dragon fae. Why does he have to put so much effort into it.
Oh no………now you a mess
You open the Pandora box too early and now you have to live with it while pretending not to know a thing until the day. You bit your lip as Mal smoothly tug a strain of hair behind your ears. You can now understand what he mumbles about……rose gold? Sunshine gold? May be one of his grandma’s jewellery set?? (Oh god no…….that’s tooo far for the first gown Mal lol)
Your heart beat so fast until the evening of the event. Malleus play cool by teasing you and being a nice partner who prepare a gift for you.
Boom! You are now in a matching dress. So those Raven feathers on the hip are supposed to match his shoulder then ah………..you are about to take off the veil since it looks like a bride. Before Malleus could turn grumpy…..Sebek yell and lecturing you about how talented Wakasama are! You human dare to question his sense of fashion? Outrageous! Just because he love you doesn’t mean you can ruin his days of afford to perfect this dress
Woops………tongue slip
Well it’s not like you never know anyway. Just pretend to be surprise so Sebek won’t get a lightning strike okay?
Bonus : she doesn’t want to point out that when she accidentally saw Malleus weaving that dress……. his tail wagging. It’s a secret she gonna take to her grave though
Bonus 2 : Lilia does notice that and brag about how adorable Malleus is. How Malleus has grown to fit in the society in front of the other dorm leader………..Oopsie
Bonus 3 : Malleus learn the hard way not to miss the meeting
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𝕷𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖆 🦇
Have you heard of the story of the fairy godmother in Cinderella? Well he won’t just roll out and sing bib bi di bub bi di bo and bang! A nice new dress for you. The old man planned while cuddling you in bed……in sofa…..in the gaming chair(?)
He pretends to be busy with something and hasn't listened to you. Even play dumb and say you look cute in the school uniform. Well it’s not totally a lie since he thinks it’s adorable. Why would he poke on your cheek and nibble your neck while you are in your uniform if it’s not because you are so cute to him.
The truth is, this old bat is as excited as you. He lived through the war time and never got a chance to enjoy a leisure party before. Well it’s just a joint event of 2 schools. It can't compare with how grand the royal ball of the Briar valley held a ball but this is the first time he is going to have his lover join him. He doesn’t have to be alert from enemies. Doesn’t have to command his subordinates to search all the parties involved in this event. Just lay back enjoy the day with you.
He had been trying to recreate that dress in his memories just for you. It was around……..hundred? Two hundred?? Year ago??? He walked past this girl on the street and was stunned by her attire. It’s an elegant dress with black velvet and green emerald. Soft flare neckline covered the black corset. Enough skin to show your radiant but not too much.
Well, He was allowed to give you some hickeys before the day of the ball. It got enough fabric to cover all his naughtiness. Wink*
However he was troubled with the skirt since he only remembered just part of it flowing past him. He argued if it’s short or long skirt. He was going back and forth and even tried to summon multiple dresses to compare them…….Then before the final day. He just uses his sense of style to bring it together. Of cause ! Who do you think he is, if not the cutest boy in NRC ? (Self proclaimed……)
He smiles so proudly with your flushed cheek as he teases you. As you put on a golden belt with a bat and thorn on. This is the perfect dress for you. His baby bat. He should had prepare a ring for this big day but well…….there are plenty time for that
Bonus : He pick a perfume for you today and as you dance with him on the floor. It’s totally Lilia’s scent///
This is very long………..more than I expected
I’ll continue Silver & Sebek in part 2 then 😂 sorry I’m so into it with my oshi! I’ll try pack in other dorm in one post! Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoy!!
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levmada · 2 months
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Since you also love the last of us (wow we love taste) were you a newer fan that played tlou1 and 2 back to back or did you play tlou1 around the time it came out, waited like 7 years just to have **spoilers** a beloved character die within one hour of the game in such a brutal way. Ill admit i was PISSED and so sad like i never cried that much over a character but then i simmered down and realized that ellie was always the center of the story not joel. And absolutely love how complicated and how it tested us and catapulted these discussions like whos in the right? Is anyone right? There’s no heros or villains it’s just people in awful and hostile environments who are used to resorting or seeing extreme violence in order to survive or to even cope.
OMGGGGGG u have no idea. joel was actually my surrogate father figure hahaha
the first game i got for ps3 was gta5, followed by the last of us. i have a CORE memory of playing the building level (after leaving the boston QZ) for the first time on the lightest difficulty shaking like crazy bc runners were so scary😭😭 (i was like 11 okay). and yeah this was 2013 when it came out
favorite game i’ve ever played. i was MYSTIFIED. my daddy issues?? cured whenever joel showed up on screen!! the scene after the david fight where joel calls ellie babygirl is an instant tearjerker for me TO THIS DAY
tlou1 is still my favorite game of all time. it’s the best. when i heard about the second one coming out (this was 2020 i think…?) i was excited but scared. this was also around the time aot season 4 was announced, and i was scared about that too bc😭😭what if the new content isn’t as good or ruins things. i tried to keep my expectations low
i think a week before it dropped, there were the leaks about joel dying. and whenever i get spoiled for anything i just gaslight myself into believing i was misremembering a joke, or it was proven to be a troll💀
brooo this is a core memory too. i was sitting on the edge of my bed playing in the dark like a foot in front of my tv and was crying just at the beginning sequence with joel singing to ellie. (happy crying)
the death scene was traumatizing and shocking at first more than anything and yeah i felt soooo betrayed😭😭but i was like ‘okay this is a rly ballsy move. JOEL? one of the most iconic characters in gaming atp? the game has to be exceptional’
ugh i can’t remember my opinions from back then. but it was easy to get on the hate train that was IN FULL FORCE back then. i remember it was so fucking sad to see the reception. ppl were saying the 10/10 reviews were paid off, laura bailey who played abby getting just BULLIED off social media with death threats. horrible times
god you’re so right. you know it’s extremely similar to aot in several ways, with tlou telling a story that holds no punches and completely reflects the complexities of actual real people, what morals are objective and subjective, how far can you take revenge before it destroys you, stuff like that. a story expertly told and a game expertly designed, also.
i’m so worked up rn lol oh god i could write an essay about the themes of tlou.
i love the last of us 2 these days lol. ofc there’s what everyone agrees with - it’s a technical marvel, the graphics are unbeatable, voice acting, sfx, the accessibility options established what should be an industry standard (i’ve seen reviews from blind gamers who enjoyed tlou2).
i love the story. it’s SO much more than ‘revenge bad’. I ARGUE that the first game was about JOEL’S revenge on humanity for taking away his only daughter, but.. i’m getting sidetracked.
it’s not perfect. some things should’ve been more deeply established or scenes reordered. that is to say it’s not tlou 1, but it’s pretty damn close to perfect for me haha!!
a highlight that’s on my mind right now is how the game is protected in a way by its politics. dina being jewish and openly bisexual, LEV A TRANS BOY AND HOW THAT WAS HANDLED BY THE GAME OH MY GOD LOML, ellie a lesbian, the gay flag and crosswalk in seattle, stuff like that. the edgy right wingers just hate the game on principle, and it being very very dear to my heart feels nice lol. ie, the way 4channers fixated on the rattler guy to hit lev in the garage door near the end.
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longroadstonowhere · 10 months
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okay, i ran around doing a little more in tears of the kingdom, so i’ve calmed down enough to do my last debrief of the main quests
i got horrendously lost trying to find the path forward through the chasm under hyrule castle, mostly because i just couldn’t see doorways? and i died about five times to the gloom lynel until i figured ‘hey, i guess i should do that whole weapon fuse thingy that the game encourages you to do, huh?’ and also i figured out the correct timing on flurry dodging, so that was fun
i also cheated outrageously by using travel medallions as checkpoints, so that i could clear out an area, head back to the surface to ungloom and sleep, and then come back at full strength (i mean, the game gives you the travel medallions as part of an actual quest now, so it’s not actually cheating, but you know)
i also cheesed the phantom ganon fight slightly by not falling into the pit of gloom when the piece of masonry i was walking on fell down, because i have decent reaction time and i’d much rather get rid of gloom spawn (apparently the actual name for the floormaster looking dudes) at an incredibly safe distance
loved walking through the rooms we’d gone through in the beginning of the game, and finally uncovering the murals that we couldn’t see back then, which of course foreshadow zelda’s whole journey into the past and receiving the master sword and choosing to become a dragon to restore the blade (which, by the way, i’m engendering a headcanon that fi just likes zelda more than link in these two games, because she never talks to me, she only reaches out to zelda, hahaha)
the fight against the army was interesting, since it basically seemed like a way to refresh your weapon and material count if you had nothing, and it was cool fighting alongside all the sages one last time (i mean, not last time, but i’ll get to that), but it was kinda funny how like... some of the enemies were just red bokoblins, like dude, i literally slap them and they die, but made me feel powerful so that’s what’s important
and then we get to ganondorf
it took me two... three? tries to beat him - i actually got through the first couple phases fine, where you’re fighting ganondorf the man, and then the demon king alongside the sages, but the second half of the demon king fight i just had no clue what to do because flurry rush wasn’t working and i didn’t have any other useful powers i could think of (although i look forward to someone creating some ridiculous vehicle and using autobuild to bring it in, because if that works that will be extremely hilarious)
instead i just got good at perfect guarding so i could create my openings to attack, and that worked out fine, and god damn did it feel good to take him out - i also almost missed the extremely good ui gag they did with his health bar, but i did catch it and it was so fucking good, like top tier game design, good job everybody
so then the cutscene after that is happening, and i’m just like ‘link please stab him in the forehead, that’s how these things have to end’, and then ganondorf took the secret stone out of his forehead and i realized what was about to happen about three seconds before ganondorf ate it to become a dragon, and i just went ‘oh that’s not good’ out loud - makes me wonder if they were like ‘hey, we have this dragon-like ganon ascension animation from breath of the wild, any chance we can re-utilize somehow?’ and figured out how to do it - completely epic and terrifying, and very well integrated into the story so i was very invested in seeing it happen and figuring out how to fight him as the dragon form
which, uh, took me a bit to figure out the whole schtick of the fight, but i had a good time getting rides from zelda so i could skydive onto ganon’s back, and just truly epic final blow shattering the secret stone, so fucking cinematic and gorgeous
loved the scene where sonia and rauru’s spirits came together to rewind zelda back to her human form (because sonia knows how to reach out to an object’s memory, so doing it for a human was just the next step), and the final sky dive to save her from falling to her death was extremely cool, i’m really glad they put that into the player’s hands rather than just doing a cutscene of it (although geez rauru couldn’t you have waited until we landed to do the whole spirit reverse thing???)
mineru leaving made sense (because what is a zelda game if you don’t have to make a tearful farewell at the end of it), but mostly i was just sad for zelda because she has this entire life she lived in the past, and she had the chance to have someone else remember it with her, but now mineru is gone and she’ll be the only one who can truly know what it was like back then
but! she is home!!!! and that was a beautiful note to end her story on! because as much as it’s easy to make fun of the ‘must save the princess’ storyline that zelda games can fall into, in this one it wasn’t like we needed to save her because she’d been kidnapped or trapped or whatever, we needed to save her because she’d chosen to do something that was necessary and good but that was horrible for her personally, and how could we possibly leave her in that state if we had any choice in the matter? like, we could choose not to save zelda and the world would move on, but it would be a lesser place without zelda’s presence, and that’s beautiful to me
overall, i have very few things that bothered me about the game - i kinda wish the kohga thing had been more clearly a main quest kinda thing, because i would’ve worked on it along the way if i’d known how important it was, rather than doing it all at once at the end, and there were a few puzzles or bosses that i would’ve liked more of a hint on how i was supposed to proceed, but clearly it was all doable (even if sometimes i only made it through by copious zonai device abuse, hahaha), and i’m very excited to spend the next six years and more poking into every corner and seeing what i can find next
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foxdoodles · 2 years
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rocky rickaby
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guerrerajaguar · 2 years
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Cutie... I want to say that you are fluffy and I'm hugging you now and braking your bones. It's sounds agressive but it's not!!!
Thanks for answer my requests in the most perfect way, that fanfics, Kyojuro, Uzui,My Gyomei ahhh NO WORDS ARE NEEDED!!! Your mind it's a amazing fount of entertainment... Flower, can I ask something????
CEO KYOJURO.... X Fem Reader
She should not get his attention... As she it's just a employee, she did some mistakes, and let's say he underestimated her at first...but the flame handsome guy got hit buy her atitude after... he was a bit arrogant( yeah I know it'snot canon but it'sAU and he grownup in a differentcontext) and as these situations are getting worse... suddenly she said in a rage tired moment. (That you gonna decide, can be a real drama where he tries even say humiliate words) and she let out all in her mind 》》
She shout: "I'm leaving this company, fuc.k. u"
😶 Yeahhh because in this AU Kyo hits different. His eyes are wide...No ones never talks like this with him... Someone have a lot to think... A nice inside guy of him guy awakens, someonewhat we know better, our old Kyo, thinking abouthis life and what kind of person he should be.... So he realizes something...
" What this woman did to me?"
She live alone, she is independent.
Now she is already working in another place.
Kyojuro feels that something it's missing on his life... But... Well, she it's not so open to his presence.
And now??? What you super writer will do????? Darling...Do whatever you like... Some ideas pop on my mind and I'm spreading everywhere, because I'm lazing to write... lol
And if you do a CEO GYOMEI I'M GONNA DIE FOR SURE, BUT PRETEND YOU NEVER SEE THIS 😏
Luv yae and you know that right??? Hugs and kisses, lots of them 💓💓💓
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I think you remember this guy's haha
My Darling I love you so much, I am afraid I will receive all your affections in the most lovable way possible <3. You were the one who inspired me to write, I was so shy about it, so I will never ever be able to let you know how grateful I am to you . I love you so very much <3.
So this is fantastic, I had a lot of ideas and I hope that you love this as well. Since I poured some personal experiences in this, I will make it into a 2 part or maybe 3 parts request.
I am thinking about CEO Gyomei in Y/N's new company?
I did felt a little bit weird writing Kyo with such a horrible personality, but as we say in Mexico: Give the customer whatever she requests.
Ohhhhhh yes that icon is so cute and breathtaking at the same time! hahaha Love it, nooooooow its mine <3
Can't wait to see your reaction ! Lots of hugs and kisses <3
CeoKyojuro x fem!reader (Part 1)
Warnings: Angst, swearing and humilliation.
ceoKyojuro x fem!reader part 2
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You were tired, so fucking tired as work kept piling up non-stop, you felt like you could not stand it anymore. Lately you barely made it back home; just to take a bath, eat some fast ramen and sleep for less than 5 hours before going back to work the next day. You could not understand what was wrong with the Beta Prototype. You designed it, ran advanced simulations and analysis along with your other expert peers. It just did not make any sense.
Your manager was pretty reasonable regarding this problem. She knew that you and the rest of the team were doing everything humanly possible to solve the issue but it was just a matter of time for the CEO to get involved in this. He was a really nasty bloke, really full of himself mistreating everyone in the office at every chance he had. Just being slightly refrained by a human resources “warning”, although he knew he was ‘untouchable’ so his unprofessional habits kept going on.
Mitsuri Kanroji, as your manager, had received most of Kyojuro’s rants; about how inefficient your team were, about how long you took for designing a product and launching it to production and how bad of an image your team gave of the company with the customer. She was the sweetest person in the office, so naturally your blood boiled every time she came out from his office absolutely ravaged by his rude wording. Nevertheless, she never ever responded back to him and honestly who will? He was the CEO.
Several times you had suggested improvements in the company’s processes, designing and testing methods, components substitutions, alternative prototypes for unveiling these types of failures earlier in the development stage in order to avoid these dead end situations. But you were never heard even once, you knew Mitsuri shared your ideas but she was all the time blantly turned down with most stupid excuses you’ve ever heard.
-”Honestly, not wanting to invest in pre-design prototypes due to TIMING? Are you kidding me, he wants to talk about timing? How can he be so oblivious to HIS own process?” You claimed angrily during lunch, after your last meeting, to your best friend at the office; Giyuu Tomioka. He was calmly eating his bento box sitting right in front of you, listening carefully to your conversation and offering you bites from his food from time to time in order to make sure that you were eating at least something.
-”I am serious Tomioka-san…. hmmmn…” You were interrupted by him placing rice in front of your mouth. “This man's only job is making mine harder! He wants the fastest of results and resolutions and he doesn’t even… hmmmm…” This time he offered you some salmon daikon.
-”Giyuu…!” You complained in exasperation as he mouth feed you a small bread piece.
-”He doesn’t even know how the product works?” He calmly completed your phrase as he handed you a green tea bottle. You rolled your eyes with a smirk, taking a sip of your drink.
-”Yes! It’s like he did not want the job to be done…” You sighed as you crossed your legs and rested your chin on the palm of your right hand, looking at your friend with a concerned expression.
-”We all know that Rengoku is an arrogant tyrant, there is nothing new about that. But Y/N, you need to take better care of yourself, you barely eat or sleep. I know how dedicated you are, but no job is worth falling sick for.” He said while offering you half a slice of his strawberry cake. “You will figure it out, as you always do. I am positive about that”. He said with a very soft smile, almost imperceptible.
After 2 years you were still unsure of how you and Giyuu could be such good friends, having such different personalities. But still, he knew you best in the office and knew how capable you were. So, for at least half an hour you forgot about what was troubling you and lightheartedly talked with him about going to the movies together the upcoming weekend.
You came back from lunch in such a good mood that you did not catch how anxious Mitsuri was acting when she approached you, asking you for your latest updates on the issue since your last meeting; which had just happened less than an hour ago.
-”Mitsuri-san, that was barely an hour ago…” You stared at her with concern, knowing that this question came from the upper management. “The status is the same as our previous meeting, although I have a couple of ideas we could try…”. You were interrupted as Kyojuro summoned you to his office with his characteristic yelling. Everybody stopped what they were doing to stare at you, you felt a big adrenaline rush building up in your chest. This was it, now you will be bad mouthed by that presumptuous blonde.
-”Yes, Rengoku-san?” You asked him in a neutral tone, barely entering the room.
-”Sit down” He demanded in a very impolite way. “Explain to me how it is possible that incompetent personnel such as you and your team are kept on the payroll?” You blinked in disbelief, words not really sinking in. You shook your head trying to clear your mind for answering him back.
-”Rengoku-san, this issue is very critical. If not properly approached we could face serious legal backlash, we are talking about electromagnetic interference international standards. We are taking the recommended approach for finding the root cause and in fact…” He interrupted you:
-”I know how important this is, I am not an IDIOT!” He was starting to raise his voice yelling at you. You felt anger starting to build in your chest.
-”Yes… so then you will understand that finding the root cause is an equally delicate and intricate matter…” You said, trembling in anger.
-”What I don’t understand is HOW THE FUCK a bunch of stupid people like yourself and the other idiots of your team manage to make this company look bad without any retaliation, is just like we were REWARDING MEDIOCRITY!” That was it, everything sink in, who the fuck this air headed thought he was? The CEO yes, but he was so ignorant regarding everything that was designed at the company that you bit your lip for not answering him back as he continued ranting:
-”Plain stupid, only looking to excuse your incompetency. I am absolutely certain that you were completely ignorant about this subject when you designed that PIECE of SHIT. No wonder it does not WORK…!” That was it, you did not needed to go through this; you would rather be unemployed for the rest of your life than having to endure this lunatic moron for another minute.
-”No… You know what IS REALLY STUPID? Having an IMBECILE OF A BOSS, who is so ignorant THAT HE DOES NOT EVEN KNOW HOW HIS OWN processes work. NOT even the basics and being the idiot he is, he does not have a single clue of how his FUCKING products function.” He was absolutely speechless, no one had ever talked back to him. His fiery amber eyes were so big in surprise that he felt an unpleasant sensation at the base of his stomach. You were shaking due to the anger but you continued:
-”Oh and you know what else? YOU BEING THE SON OF THE MAIN STAKEHOLDER DOES NOT MAKE YOU, AND I REPEAT, DOES NOT MAKE YOU COMPETENT FOR THE POSITION YOU ARE HOLDING. Especially when you treat people that work for you as if nobody deserved to admire ‘YOUR GREATNESS’. You know what that turns you into? AN UNBEARABLE IDIOT. So no, ‘Rengoku-san’” you said his name in a very mocking way and continued “Do not worry about my incompetence anymore because, I FUCKING QUIT. Fuck THIS and fuck YOU and your arrogant attitude. Good luck solving that problem WITHOUT ME!”
You immediately stormed out of his office without allowing him to respond back. Everyone at the office was rooting for you, even if you did not knew it. You had no idea how happy everyone felt for someone finally answering back to their arrogant CEO. You went quickly to your desk with adrenaline still being pumped into your system, making you feel invincible.
You rapidly apologized to Mitsuri for leaving without further notice and asked her to apologize on your behalf with the rest of the team. She looked at you with the most grateful smile you had ever seen on her face and as she hugged you, she muttered :”Thank you Y/N”. You grabbed the most essential of your stuff, Giyuu could deliver the rest later on, and quickly headed to the elevator.
As you suspected, your blue-eyed friend reached you, preventing with his hand the closing of the elevator doors and said with a grin:
-”See? I told you that you would figure it out.” He offered you his hand to help you with all the things you were carrying. He walked you to your car and as he closed your car door he told you:
- “Is it ok if I crash at your place after work?” you nodded and he continued “Now miss Y/N, go home, take a hot shower, a warm meal and a nap until I arrive at your apartment. Deal?” You warmly smiled at him, drove directly home and did exactly as he suggested.
You felt so good, so free, free of that tyrant that was making your life so miserable and yes, you will have to figure out the employment situation but at least for that day you will definitely not worry about it. Little you knew that this was only the beginning of a series of very interesting events.
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rae-gar-targaryen · 3 years
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loved you once [angel reyes x fem!reader]
A/N: So, this is NOT the Angel fic I previewed the other day. That one (and the EZ fic) is STILL COMING, I PROMISE! This just jumped into my head and wouldn’t leave. And I wrote it with a speed I am heretofore unfamiliar with (heretofore? Did I use that right?) I invented a tattoo and an ex-girlfriend for Angel, and I fudged the timeline a bit. So, apologies in advance for that. 
As always, if you want a tag in anything I write for Angel, EZ, the Mayans fandom (or anything else), please feel free to send me a message or an ask, or add yourself to the taglist (link in profile). 
Pairing: Angel Reyes x fem!tattoo artist!reader (as always, the appearance is ambiguous, but the reader is described as having female pronouns/parts. Also, the reader here speaks a bit of Spanish. I’m half Mexican, so I do imagine a latinx reader, but I hope I’ve written this so you can imagine yourself with no restriction.)
Word Count: 15.3K (HAHAHA WHAT THE FUCK all for a TWO AND A HALF MINUTE SONG, ARE YOU KIDDING ME????) of ANGST! (SERIOUSLY THIS IS SO ANGSTY) lyrical nonsense and the remnants of sticky, cotton-candy sadness … fluff that makes you feel empty. 
Warnings: ANGST, non-explicit references to infidelity, sexual references and sexual content, oral (male receiving), fingering and other nastiness -- so 18+ ONLY, please! Canon-typical douchebaggery, references to a past relationship, song references and poetry. (It is me, so yeah, poetry.)
Summary: You and Angel may as well be strangers now. But why? After all, you loved him once. And he loved you, right? Based on the song “Loved you Once” by Clara Mae. Listen here. 
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--
We don't need to be best friends, we don't need to hang again. But tell me why we have to be strangers because I loved you once?
What were you doing here? You haven’t been back to the clubhouse in months. Not since -- well, you know. You hadn’t talked to him since then, either. But that wasn’t your own doing. 
No, Angel had erected a veritable wall of silence, and you respected him enough not to breach it. 
That was what relationships were all about, anyway, right? Mutual respect of the other’s needs? So when Angel had told you in no uncertain terms that your relationship was over, you were … upset. Understandably. You wanted to sit with him, talk about where this sudden insistence that you depart his life had come from, but he was resolute. With the absolute air of authority that comes with either a great deal of thought, or borne of virtually sudden external influence, with nothing in between. He clearly didn’t want to sit and talk about it. 
And so you didn’t. 
Ever mindful of his wellbeing, and when he was and was not receptive to communication. 
"It ain't working," he had said. You had settled for merely imagining the faraway look in his large, oilslick eyes, since he was much more interested in staring at his boots and the grooves in his floor, his forearms laid over spread thighs, unmoving and resolute from his spot at the end of the bed. Refusing to meet your eyes. 
From your seat next to him, you made to brush the arm closest to you with your fingers. When you touched, he gave no indication that you were even there. That he even felt you. Which you knew was bullshit. He always felt you. 
"Angel, what --" you hated the way your voice cracked as you tried to ask him what the hell was going on. You hated how you had sounded so small and quavering to your own ears. That wasn't who you were. You were clear, outspoken. It was always one of the things Angel said he loved about you. Loved.
You didn't know this, of course, but Angel hated it, too. How you’d sounded in that moment. Hated that his words had taken the fire out of yours, your voice unfamiliar in its timidity. 
"It ain't working," he repeated. "I can see it. Not my fault you can't." 
That was it. 
No "I'm sorry, querida." 
No "I hope we can stay friends." 
Not that you would expect an apology, or anything as cliché as a "let's be friends," from a steadfast man like Angel. Predictable in his volatility. 
You should have pushed back. Demanded an answer. You hated that you didn’t, the shock and sudden sadness morphing you into a silent, crystalline girl you didn’t recognize. Your eyes welled with tears, turning your head away from where Angel sat -- at least you wouldn’t let him see you cry. Even if you knew he knew the tears had spilled over your lashes and down your cheeks were of his own doing. 
You had arrived back at his place a day after your tense "conversation" to discover that your items you had come to reclaim were tossed into a box and left outside of the door. 
You had knocked once, in the hope that if Angel was home, he’d at least come to the door to shout through it, or, heaven forbid, would open it so you could look him in the eyes just once more while he shattered you. Your knock was met with silence, though you could have sworn you felt Angel on the other side of the door. 
In the months since then, you had cried (obviously), you had questioned (it was sudden, it wasn't just you; your friends were surprised, too), but most importantly, you had persevered. 
You had taken a bunch of new clients and inked some pieces you were incredibly proud of. You had gone out with your friends a few times, always with a wary eye on the door of the local dive, ya know… you never knew who would walk in.
Santo Padre is a small town, after all. And the cracks in your soul were nowhere close to healed. No molten gold to spill in and repair the fissures of your heart, rendering metamorphosis of something broken to something flawed, but beautiful. You sat, alone, still just… flawed. You had never felt less beautiful. Even after all this time. 
And your friend Aneesa, ever the supporter, would stop at nothing if it meant hyping you up enough to leave your cave of blankets, sheet masks, and comfort movies. Your only rule? All nights out with Aneesa were strictly girls’ nights. She was gracious and understanding of this rule, of course. She and Gilly had been together a touch longer than you and Angel. 
And if Angel had ever asked Gilly to ask Aneesa about you? Well… you never heard about it.
Not that Angel would do any of that. Shit like that was so middle-school. 
So, here you were. Back at the clubhouse after months of self-imposed exile for the sake of self-preservation. 
Coco had texted you -- the first you’d directly heard from anyone within Angel’s circle, inviting you to a patch party for some nameless, faceless newbie. The invitation had a string attached to it, of course -- the tattoo artist’s chair in the corner of the clubhouse needed a resident for any partygoers jonesing for new ink. Certainly, the new patch would need something decidedly “Mayan” to show off his new status. 
You had hesitantly agreed -- Aneesa would be in attendance of course, and offered herself as a human-sized buffer to separate you from people you were otherwise hoping to avoid. 
--
Now, perched near the tattoo chair, you busied yourself with setting out your portfolio of completed pieces, sketches and most-requested designs. You wiped down the chair a few more times than strictly necessary, but you wanted to be ready for anyone who might plop themselves down for a new piece of art. 
The main room of the clubhouse was sweltering -- a familiar blend of desert heat, cigarette smoke, citronella, and the smell of citrusy, foamy beer. The dim lighting and thundering bass giving everything a slightly blurry edge in your party-periphery. You glanced across the room at where Aneesa and Gilly sat together on a corner couch, thighs pressed together. Aneesa tossed her head back in a full-bodied laugh at something Gilly had whispered into her ear, swatting his arm -- Gilly’s reciprocal smile demonstrating his pleasure at having garnered such a reaction from his girl. 
A wave of cheers and noise accompanied the thwack of the clubhouse door swinging open -- more Mayans pouring in, jostling one another's shoulders, slapping each other on the arms, and good-naturedly cajoling. 
There was Coco, mid-pull of the cigarette between his lips, quicksilver eyes flashing around the room, taking stock of who was where. EZ followed, million-watt smile on full display as he gently guided a pretty girl with long, inky hair through the bottleneck at the entryway. 
If EZ was ambling his way in, then, surely, not far behind ...
With an arm around a tall, broad guy you hadn’t seen before, was Angel. Midway through a joke with the guy you assumed was the new patch, you took the opportunity to study the man you had once considered the moonlit orbit of your entire world. 
You hated to admit it to yourself, but he looked good… His arms still replete with thick, corded muscle. His hair was a tad longer on top than you remembered, slicked back and belied with cleanly-cropped sides. His smile as warm and blinding as the cruel light at the end of your better dreams, only for you to awake each day alone. 
As you continued your silent study, you were surprised to see -- still adorning his left arm … the tattoo you had given him on the day you had first met. You had thought he would have blacked it out by now … a cover-up on top of a cover-up. 
But there it was --- the soft, leafy greens creeping down his forearm on sharp vines, abutted with bursting blooms -- small, ornate gladiolus buds and a sprig of purpling rosemary. Such a flowery piece on the arm of someone like Angel might have been laughable. But if anyone dared, he would simply stare, stone-faced, with burning eyes and a set jaw, ready to ask just what they thought was so fucking funny. 
To you? It was perfection. It was remembrance. 
‘Cause I loved you, once… 
---
You had moved to Santo Padre from Oakland. Hardly an axis-tilting move, but significant enough to you. 
Your friend Oliver had offered you a seat at his tattoo shop. And you? You were positively itching to get out of the city. A few too many bad nights with a few people you could no longer in good conscience consider friends. 
So, here you sat, resident of one of two chairs in this corner parlour off the so-called “main” drag in sweltering, dusty Santo Padre. 
Your books were pretty clear … Not that you attributed much logic to the ebb and flow in any conceivable pattern of the tide that was tattoo shop patrons, but January seemed an agonizingly slow month. You filled the idle time with keeping the shop neat, disinfecting and re-disinfecting every surface, and organizing Oliver’s books. 
And if you weren’t dreaming up new sketches and designs for the more adventurous prospective client, you were jotting idle lines of lyrical poetry in the margins of your sketchbook. 
If the month dragged on like this, you were sure you could publish an entire book of moody, mid-winter prose that would make Charles Bukowski want to drown himself in stiff Cabernet. 
The dinging of the bell above the parlour door yanked you from your doodling stupor. You looked up to see who had come in, your gaze met with a towering, golden-skinned man donned in a leather vest, his boots squeaking on the shop’s linoleum floor as he made his way to the front desk. He leaned over it and rapped his silver-ringed hand against the top with the ease and comfort of someone who had been in many times before. If the ink trailing his arms was any indication, he may as well be a regular, though you hadn’t seen him in before. There was no way you could forget that jawline, and those shoulders. 
“Yo,” he called in greeting, eyes flashing to where you stood, walking to meet him at the counter. You swore you saw his gaze dart over your form, giving you the old up-down. An easy smile graced his full lips as he made himself comfortable leaning against the counter.  
“Oliver here?” 
You shook your head, the action serving to answer his question and --hopefully-- clear your head of the foggy spell this man was casting over you with his presence alone.
“Nah, sorry. He’s guest-chairing at his buddy’s shop in L.A. Did you have an appointment?” 
“I look like the kind of guy with a datebook?” He chuckled at his own joke. “No appointment, corazón.” 
“Walk-in? Always a risky strategy,” you lilted. 
“What can I say? I’m a risk-taker,” he replied with the practiced ease of breezy flirtation. 
You smiled softly, grabbing Oliver’s calendar from the desk, flipping to the following week. “He’ll be back in next week, if you want to wait?” 
“That’s no good for me, babe, I’ll be out of town.”
“Ah.” You huffed a bit through your nose “Bike rally?” You asked, gesturing at his worn leather kutte, cringing internally a little at the teasing edge your voice had taken on. Were you always this bad of a flirt? 
The man looked at you shrewdly for a beat -- seemingly trying to discern just how much fun you were making of him before taking mercy on you and peeling back the slight layer of awkwardness the conversation had taken.  He scrubbed the back of his neck before confirming,
“Uh, yeah, actually,” he rumbled a chuckle. “Why? You wanna go?” He raised a full brow at you in a mild challenge. 
Your eyes widened at his seemingly-serious invitation. You took in the quirk of his lips, causing the slightest crinkle at the corner of his warm eyes -- the look of a man borne of good humor and who smiled often. It was endearing, and if you were honest, made you melt a little. Even if you now realized he was teasing you. 
“Sorry, guapo,” you cracked a smile of your own, gesturing at the empty shop. “As you can see, I’m a very busy girl. Highest of demand.” 
“Claro,” he replied. “So, I better get in while the getting’s good, huh? Your chair open now?” 
“Uhm,” you chewed your lower lip, now slightly nervous at the prospect of spending more time with this man. “¿Quieres esperar para Olí? I won’t be offended. You haven’t even seen any of my pieces.” 
A beat of silence passed between you both, the man seemingly weighing his options. 
"I mean," You broke the silence and leaned forward, lightly tapping a fingernail against his bicep. “What if my art style doesn’t suit the king of the bikers?” 
"Something tells me you'll suit me just fine." His smirk was full-bore now. He didn't miss a beat, did he?
You were silent, probably for a few moments too long. Was he actually flirting with you? You blinked. He probably flirts with everyone ... get over yourself, you internally chided.
"Angel," the man said, recovering the moment and holding out a large, ringed hand for you to shake. You gave him your name, shaking his hand firmly. 
You nodded your head over your shoulder, toward your chair. 
"Well, come on back, Angel, you can tell me about what we're doing today."
Angel followed you back to your station, and you could swear you felt his dark eyes on your form as you walked, the thought that this man was looking at you with any kind of discerning attention made your cheeks warm a little. He folded his long body into the chair you gestured toward, and you took the rolling seat next to him. He proffered his left arm to you, tracing down a spot on his forearm.
"Just wanna cover this up," he paused, letting you observe the offending ink. "It's about time." 
"'Clara Forever,' huh?" You took in the faded, loopy lettering down his forearm. "Who's Clara?" Your tone was gently teasing by nature, but he seemed to clam up a bit at the question, regarding your sharp tongue with sharper eyes.
"Well, it wasn't forever," he finally bit out, shoulders now a little more tense than before.
"Aw, cariño," you sighed in good-natured taunting. "Didn't anyone ever tell you the number one rule of tattoo? 'Forever' is a certain jinx. And a name is almost never a good idea… unless it's your dog's."
You made a sweeping hand gesture over the rest of his person, your eyes noticeably cataloguing the ink adorning most of the real estate on his arms and what little you could see of the top of his chest. 
"How did anyone let you get this far without telling you the rules?"
He relaxed at the humor in your soft voice, comfortable now that he had confirmation that you were teasing him rather than seriously ridiculing. His posture relaxed once more, he waggled his eyebrows at you, also teasing,
"Le sorprendería saber que nunca fui uno para seguir las reglas?” He asked. Would it surprise you to learn that I was never one for rules? 
"¿Tú?" Your eyes widened in mock surprise. “Para nada.” Not at all.  
"Hey," he swatted your arm gently. "Cuidaté, niña. Insulting your customers? I can see why your chair is empty." He chuckled at his own little jab as you busied yourself gathering your supplies.
You turned and reached for him, holding his arm in one hand and running your now-gloved thumb over "Clara Forever." 
"So?" You queried, "What are we doing with this? How do you want to cover it?" 
Angel shrugged, the leather adorning his shoulders creaking ever-so-slightly with the movement. 
"Figured I would just black it out. I've been putting it off long enough. To hell with her anyway, yaknow?"
"Hmm…" you considered his proposal. "I could do that, if that's what you really want. Easy enough. But…" you trailed.
He shifted in the chair, arching an eyebrow at you.
"But?" He pressed.
Now it was your turn to shrug. You released his arm from your grip and gestured to the booklet containing photos of your most prized work. 
"Why waste the opportunity to give yourself something you really want?" You handed him the book. "Besides… from the looks of things, you have limited real estate left on this arm. May as well fill it with something… more you?” You made to hand him the scrapbook. “You can see what else I've done. See if anything sparks an idea." 
Angel regarded you for a moment. Leaning forward in the chair and slightly more into your space, eyes never leaving yours. He took the edge of the book, deliberately brushing his fingers over yours as he did so, making you hold your breath a little. If Angel noticed, he had the decency not to say anything. 
“Why not?”
You exhaled softly as he leaned away again, flipping his way through your book. 
As he scrutinized the photographic renderings of your pieces, you took the chance to really take him in. His strong jaw and full lips were objectively pleasant, abutted by deliberately-shaped facial hair. He had a prominent brow, something that would surely give away his feelings, even if he decided not to verbalize them. There was no hiding a frown or a smile on that face.  You fiddled with your fingers as he flipped through the pages. 
“This is some seriously top-notch shit, querida,” he voiced his approval, followed by a warm smile. He flipped his way through your minimalist renderings, floral pieces, lines of script, and one particularly involved piece with a burgundy phoenix and lifelike flames...
“Yeah?” You couldn’t hide the pleasure in your voice that he might think of you in a positive light. “Which one do you like?” 
He flipped the book to you, gesturing at a geometric planetary canvas piece you had etched down a prior client’s thigh. 
“Did you think of that one?” 
“The client had their ideas, I just execute, I guess… That was a fun one.” You shrugged, glancing at your shoes scuffing at the linoleum, suddenly feeling very shy under his scrutiny.
“Hey, don’t do that,” he leaned forward once more, his fingers gently brushing along your chin to bring your eyeline to his. “Don’t downplay your talent. You’re a badass. Own that shit.” He gave you a soft wink, releasing your chin from his grip.
Um, wow.
Was it always this hot in the back of the shop? Or were you just spontaneously combusting? Did that seriously just happen?
All you could do was nod. 
“Aight,” he crossed his legs at the ankles, making himself comfortable in the chair. “I’ve decided.” 
“Yeah?” You breathed, “What’ll it be?” 
As if he was doing nothing more complicated than ordering fries, Angel pointed at your book. “Dealer’s choice.” 
“Excuse me?” You couldn’t believe he was just going to trust you to cover up his ex’s name etched into his arm. “¡Oye! Did you hear nothing I said earlier about walk-ins being risky? Nothing about the rules?”
Angel scoffed. “About as well as you heard that I don’t give a shit about rules, babe,” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You like rules, huh?” 
Oh. The rumbling tone his voice had taken on with his last question did not go unnoticed by you. If there was any heat to spare in this shithole desert-town, it was now one hundred percent flooding through your body. 
But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d had that effect on you… (although, let’s be real, he probably, definitely, already knew).
“Fine, Angelito,” the mocking tone had returned to your voice. “But unlike Clara, this one’s gonna be forever. If I find out you cover up my art, I’m gonna blacklist you at every shop in Southern California.” You raised an eyebrow at him in a challenge. “Can you live with that?”
Angel nodded. 
“Do your worst, Vince.” 
You wrinkled your nose at the moniker. “Vince?” 
“Yeah,” he seemed so assured in his own cleverness. “Like Van Gogh?” 
You rolled your eyes. 
“Van Gogh!?” You feigned offense, hand-over-heart, lashes batting. “Not even Frida? Come oooon, Angelito.” 
He chuckled. Shifting in the chair and offering his arm to you so you could get him ready. 
“You gotta earn ‘Frida,’ dulcita.” 
“Everyone’s a critic,” you sigh, shifting your focus and taking stock of the space on Angel’s arm and what you had learned of him so far.
Someone who was seemingly confident and breezy, whose rough exterior belied something softer that was just out of reach. Someone who clearly cherished things and people he adored, if the tribute you were now covering was anything to go by. And, by the same token, more than a little impulsive. He wore his heart on his sleeve, apparently literally. 
You gathered your inks and began to work, your playlist and the buzzing of the tattoo gun filling the silence. 
It’s not like you had any reason to know it, but Angel considered you as you were working, admiring your focus and the intensity with which you afforded your art. Was he a little nervous about the fact that you were free-handing a design for him off the top of your head? Maybe... But what was life without a little risk? And he certainly wouldn’t mind a little risk with you. You were, it was obvious to him, very pretty. It was more than a little off-putting how easily you traded quips with him, seemingly unaffected by his presence and everything that came with it. If it wasn’t for the little hitches in your breath when he gently flirted with you, he wouldn’t have anything to go off of in terms of your interest. Something that was both respectable and maddening to him. 
He reached his other arm over to the side-table, grabbing your sketchbook and idly flipping through the etchings. 
Not only was the book filled with little designs, splashes of watercolor mixing with pen and charcoal, but he noticed the cramped words in the margins, perusing at his leisure and ignoring the itching buzz of the needle on the skin of his other arm.
“So, not only a Vince, but a Frost,” he broke the silence. 
You paused your work, wiping your brow with the back of your hand and looking at him with a question in your eyes.
He tapped his finger along the lines of prose in your book. “A poet,” he said. 
“Ah,” you said. “Uhm, more like a bad poet,” you chuckled, embarrassed. You made to begin again, when Angel gently gripped the wrist of your free hand. 
“The fuck did I just say?” He lightly tugged, forcing you to look into his maddeningly honey-dark eyes. “Don’t brush off your shit. Would Frida do that?” 
You regarded his eyes for a moment longer, darting your gaze to his pouty lips, resolutely set in their mission of imparting some of his confidence onto you. 
“Point taken, Angel,” you pulled your hand from his grip, which he released, trailing his fingertips over your hand as he did so. “I’m the greatest poet who ever lived, you’ve convinced me. Fuck William Shakespeare.” 
“Yeah,” Angel boisterously agreed, pleased to be bolstering you but surprising you with the little barking shout, “Fuck that dude!” 
You chuckled, shaking your head and silently returning to your work, the silence filled once more with the pleasant buzzing as you drew away. 
When you were finished, you released Angel’s arm, allowing him to inspect the clean lines of the greenery that you had drawn out of his former-love tribute. What were once loopy, cursive letters were now vines creeping steadily along his forearm, soft, yellow and red gladiolus buds emerging from where Clara’s name had once sat, neatly finished with the clean lines of the purpling sprig of rosemary along the edge of the piece. 
Angel was speechless, leaving you to marinate in your nerves. 
“It’s …” he started, “... flowery,” he supplied, lamely. 
“No shit it’s flowers,” you shot back, feeling a little defensive now, but wanting to make a quick recovery. “And they’re for you, Angel.” 
He seemed puzzled. 
“Gotta say, Vince, this is the first time a chick’s gotten me flowers,” he chuckled, “Guess they won’t die?” 
“They won’t,” you assured. “They really are for you, you know? Look at you, the rest of your ink. What it covered. You’re clearly a man formed by your experiences. It only seemed right, si? Gladiolus? They’re for remembrance. Rosemary? Symbolizes thoughtfulness and memory.” 
You continued as you began wipe the piece clean before wrapping it in new saran-wrap, “Your memories and choices make you who you are, sure. But you never know… something good could bloom from them, through the cracks."
His silence at the end of your little soliloquy was deafening. He hated it, you were sure of it. Fuck. Why did you have to get so fucking clever with him? You should’ve just done some black ink in something tribal, something masculine. What the fuck was wrong with you??
You dared to sneak a glance at his face, only to find that he was already staring at you, lips softly upturned in the hinting bloom of a smile, tarpit eyes twinkling with a good-natured mirth he would come to reserve just for you. 
“Fuck Shakespeare. That was damn beautiful, Frida.” 
The heat had returned to your cheeks, standing quickly. 
You stripped off your gloves, and made to turn your way to the counter, gathering the aftercare sheet and balm for Angel to take with him. 
You spun back toward him before he could get up.
“Oh! Can I take a picture?” You held up your phone, shaking it lightly. “For the ‘gram?” 
“Sure thing,” Angel dutifully held his arm under the lamp you had used to work, letting the fresh ink and colors pop against the golden dunn of his skin. 
You took a few photos, deciding to scroll through your camera roll later on and post your favorite. You made quick work of wrapping his arm in a sheet of clean plastic wrap before relinquishing your hold on his arm, turning to walk back to the counter. 
“Uhm,” you trailed … the telltale squeak of Angel’s boots on the linoleum indicating he was following you back to the front of the shop. You assembled everything into a bag for Angel to take with him, grabbing one of your cards from the front card-holder, and quickly jotting your number on the back next to your where the instagram handle for your art page was neatly printed, hoping he didn’t notice your sneaky little move. 
Angel resumed his comfortable lean against the counter, turning and tilting his forearm, scrutinizing your work. 
“It’s gonna be a clean one-fifty, Angel.”
He looked slightly surprised at the figure, a light frown dusting his features. 
“You sure about that? For the size, and the color, and time and everything? It’s been, like, hours.”
You shrugged. 
“We’ll call it the friends-and-family rate.” 
He gave you a long look, very clearly looking you up and down now, a prolonged edition of the greeting he had graced you with when he had entered your shop mere hours before. 
“And is that what we are now, querida? Friends?” 
How was it even possible for his voice to reach such a low register when he said these things to you?
While your insides flip-flopped at the flirtation, you hoped your face was the impassive mask you were trying to school it into. You subtly brushed your slightly-sweating palms against the frayed hem of your shorts before bringing an elbow up to the counter, resting your chin in your palm, lightly batting your lashes at him before responding...
“Sure,” you replied. There! Easy, breezy, cool-as-you-please. How does it feel, Angel?
“One day with you and friends already?” He rapped his ringed hand gently against the counter. “Can’t wait to see where we’re at tomorrow.” 
He swiped the bag off of the counter, tossing a few crisp bills onto the countertop and a wink over his shoulder before exiting the shop. 
You counted the bills on the counter, watching as Angel left the building.
Holy shit.
Three hundred bucks. He had tipped you 100 percent of what you charged him.
Cheeky.
Maybe Santo Padre wasn’t so bad, after all… 
---
Now, staring at him from across the room made you feel like you were drowning in the sickly-sweet cotton candy of sugared dreams, now lost to time. The saccharine balm melted to acrid wax, leaving you with only the tinge of bitterness. 
You were jostled out of your reverie by the sudden appearance of EZ’s blocky frame, ambling toward you with the same girl from before on his arm. 
He greeted you with a slow wave and a soft smile. 
“Hey, girl,” he greeted, clearly unsure of how much friendlier and closer he should approach you. 
You took mercy on Angel’s sweet, (big) little brother, opening your arms slightly for a hug. EZ took to the gesture like an over-excited golden retriever, scooping you up and spinning you once, before putting you back where he found you, slightly dizzier than you were before. 
He offered your name to the girl by his side, who looked pleasantly amused at the spectacle before her, her amusement melting to recognition at the name EZ had imparted to her. 
Ah. So she knew who you were. 
You tried not to let that realization sour your encounter, easing a practiced smile onto your features and offering your hand to the girl to shake. 
“Oh!” EZ chuckled. “This is Gaby -- er, Gabriela.” 
“Encantada,” you eased, gently shaking her hand before having a realization of your own. “Gaby, as in Leti’s friend?” 
She nodded, a warm smile illuminating her already sunshiney features. You could see why EZ obviously liked her. She had the practiced social grace of a debutante, but the friendly aura of someone you had known for your entire life. 
“I hope you’re keeping Ezekiel out of trouble,” you teased gently. 
“Only as well as I can,” she replied. EZ rubbed the back of his neck as you two gossiped about him like he wasn’t standing right there. 
“Listen, hermanita,” EZ began, swirling the dregs of his beer around the bottle clutched in his hand as the conversation lapsed into comfortable silence, “About Angel --” 
That was a hard no. 
“Coco!” You called as you spotted the lithe man prowling through the crowd after obtaining a drink from the bar, effectively shutting EZ up. 
Coco sidled over, slinging an arm over your shoulder and nodding in greeting to EZ and Gaby. 
“Wassup, chiquita? Over here with all the cool kids?” 
“You know damn well I was never cool enough for the cool kids,” you knocked your shoulder into Coco’s good-naturedly. 
“Dunno about that, pequeña,” Coco took a drag of his cigarette, sighing as he exhaled. “I’ve got some pretty cool body armour thanks to you.” 
“All in a day's work,” you mock-saluted. You were doing great. Keep it light, keep it friendly. You may be able to make it out of this unscathed, after all. 
Gaby and EZ were speaking softly to one another just to your side, as you and Coco continued your conversation. 
“So, who’s the new guy?” You asked, nodding over to where Angel and the still-unnamed newbie were tossing back shots. You tried to ignore that each one had girls placed on each of their laps. Well, mostly you were trying to ignore one girl placed on one lap; tried to ignore as ringed fingers trailed up and down her thigh hypnotically as he howled in laughter at something the new guy had said. 
The longer you stared at the way he was touching her, the more You thought you could feel it on your own skin. And you knew all too well how that touch felt. Memories, make you, right? 
You blinked harshly, turning your face back to Coco’s, only to find his hawkish eyes trained on you as he continued to smoke. Now you were certain he had seen everything you had, and more. And you cursed yourself for slipping. Because nothing slipped past Coco. 
He took mercy on you nevertheless. 
“Andres. He’s aight. You may not remember him from before, when he was just a prospect.” 
“Guess not,” you agreed, shrugging amiably, suddenly very interested in toying with the hem of your flowy little summertime skirt. 
“Mierda,” you heard Coco hiss, glancing up to see none other than the new guy -- Andres -- walk over, his arm around the waist of the girl from his lap, accompanied by none other than Angel Reyes, furnished with his own lap-turned-arm candy. She was giggling in his ear, popping her gum and bumping her hips against Angel’s as she walked by his side. 
You felt EZ stiffen from your other side. 
Great. 
The easy smile you’d had when conversing with Coco now felt positively screwed into place, settling unnaturally, a stranger's face made up of your own features. 
Andres smirked at you in greeting, eyes trailing over you -- the most unwelcome iteration of that gesture in this context to-date. 
“I hear you’re the girl to see about some ink.” 
You bit back the snarky response that rose to your tongue. You see anyone else here, tonto?
“Sure am,” you replied, cool as you pleeeeaseeee. Maybe a little too cool. The ice in your voice was obvious to everyone except the strangers before you. 
You really were doing great, weren’t you? 
“Great,” the new meat brushed the girl off from his side, plopping unceremoniously into your chair. “You did that right?” He pointed behind you to where Angel was standing, gesturing at his arm and your miniscule mural of memorial greenery. 
“Cierto.” You nodded, sparing Angel’s arm the barest of glances.
“Aight, well, none of that girly shit, alright, sweetheart? Angel may have had the good grace not to say anything, but flowers ain’t really my style, yeah?” 
What the fuck.  
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Coco visibly tense next to you, obviously displeased at the uncalled-for critique of your work. Of a piece he himself had often admired. He would never admit it, but he thought the story behind it was even better. It’s like you had walked out of some shitty romcom Leti watched with her tittering friends and into Angel’s dreams, sinking yourself beneath Angel's skin like a dream he would recount to all of his friends. Coco knew the most about you by nature of Angel's second-hand stories when you were together. Although Coco thought, once he had met you, Angel's stories didn't do you justice. How wonderful and talented you were. How warm and welcoming.
Angel watched the exchange silently, clearly none too keen to defend the piece you had designed for him. That had come to mean so much to you. 
That stung.
You winced, almost imperceptibly. But you were certain Coco saw it, not much escaping his sniper’s eyes. EZ, with his owlish perception and photographic memory, certainly would have seen it, too. If Angel saw it, it’s not like he was going to say anything now. 
Where the fuck was Aneesa? Wasn’t she supposed to be heading this kind of shit off? You glanced over at the couches in the corner where your friend had previously been sitting with GIlly, and was now nowhere to be seen. Fuckin’ typical. 
“Aight, no más flores." No more flowers. “What were you thinking, then?” 
That was you, ever the professional. 
Andres showed you his phone, a rendering of an old-style beastly cat, like a panther from an old folktale, pulled up in his image search. 
“Something for a warrior,” he puffed his chest slightly. “I was thinking here,” he shrugged out of one side of his new kutte, tugging the button-up to expose one side of his chest. 
“You got it.” 
You set to work, cleaning the area to be inked and getting your tools ready. The rest of the group drifted as the project progressed, clearly not feeling the need to stand there for the entire duration of a tattoo. 
You were acutely aware that Angel hadn’t stepped as far away as the others, circumventing the periphery of yours and Andres’ space, not close, but not far. And he still had yet to even look in your direction. Or acknowledge your existence. 
You tried your best to ignore the icy shard of Angel’s indifference that was currently wedging its way between your ribs and lodging itself firmly once more into your heart. At this point, you guessed it would never heal. 
“Sooooo,” Andres lolled his head to the side of his chair to face you, slinging back the beer from the bottle dangling in his free hand. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You were around a little bit when I was prospecting.” 
You opted not to respond, aware that Angel was likely listening, and you would need to choose any words carefully. Andres had no such reservation, clearly uncaring about who might be listening. He pressed on, each word more infuriating than the last. 
“You were Angel’s little sidepiece for a while, right?”   
You tried to keep your despairing sigh to a quiet little nothing. 
“Sure.” You offered lamely. “Sorry, man, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really work better when I’m not talking.” 
“S’alright, jaina. I can talk enough for the both of us.” 
You hmm’d nonchalantly at that, lip imperceptibly curling over your teeth in distaste at the moniker. You chose instead to focus on the piece. You wouldn’t give a shitty tattoo, even if this guy was a douchebag. And the pleasant buzz of the tattoo gun. Maybe you were etching the lines a little sharper than strictly necessary. If he noticed, Andres gave no indication, continuing on with his diatribe: 
“So, what happened? I mean, Angel knocked that other chick up? Ouch, right?” 
You were now seeing red, the edges of your vision blurring slightly with angry, pinpricking tears. Thank fuck you were just about done with this. 
“But that’s the life right? I mean, we’re not exactly known for being steady with just one chick. You know how it goes ...” He eyed you up and down again, lingering a little too long on your legs before finishing his thought with a smirk “... Clearly.” 
You hated his use of “we,” like he was in any way, shape, or form worthy to be in the class of man EZ, Coco, Bishop, or, hell, even Angel, was. None of them would talk to you like this. No matter what Angel had done. 
You shut off the gun, pushing back from the space with Andres, spinning in your chair, and grabbing the clean wipes for Andres’ fresh ink. As you dabbed the area and made to bandage it, the oblivious biker grabbed your wrist. None of the teasing fun or gentleness in the same gesture that Angel had imparted when you had first met. No, Andres’ grip hurt. It was all bruising possession and entitlement. 
“I think we would have fun, you and I.” He leaned forward and far too into your space, the stale stink of warm beer heavy on his breath. 
You wrenched your grip from his, standing quickly and offering him a tight smile, cheeks flaming with your anger and embarrassment. How dare he speak so trivially of your relationship with Angel. How dare he think you were so easily won with his kutte and shitty attitude. 
“Uhm,” you tugged your fingers agitatedly through the ends of your hair, chewing your lip. “You’re all set, Andres. Aftercare sheet is on the table next to you. It’s on the house. Happy patch party!” Your voice sounded so shrill and fake in your own head, but you just didn’t have it in you to care at the moment. 
With that, you quickly whirled on your heel, in a distressed flurry past the Angel-shaped blur who had been watching the entire encounter, and out of the clubhouse door into the cooler late-night air. 
Getting heavy to breathe in this room together. It’s so awkward, we can’t seem to do it better. Can’t we just fake a smile and put our shit to the side? 
---
Angel had waited a whopping 18 hours to text you after your clandestine tattooed meet-cute. 
You were in the middle of exchanging consultation e-mails with a prospective client when your phone had buzzed. 
“Vince?” The text read. 
You bit back a smirk before responding,
“Vince? No Vince here. This is Frida’s phone.”
You watched as the little bubbles appeared in the corner, disappeared for a second, and then reappeared. You were grateful for the little manifestation of Angel’s hesitance. It made him seem more human. And it made you appreciative that he was clearly trying to choose his words with you, when words had seemed to come so easily to him when you had met. 
“My bad. Oh, beautiful, talented Frida.” 
You couldn’t hold back the smile on your features now. Grateful it was still you and only you in the shop so that no one could see your “obviously-texting-a-cute-guy” face. 
“It’s nice to hear from you, Angel. Good thing you didn’t throw away the card.” 
“That card was clearly a gift, querida. Much like the pretty flowers on my arm.” He snapped you a picture of his tattoo, the healing process underway. 
“Looks great!” You sent, cringing at your lack of ability to effectively flirt via text. It was something that your friends had teased you relentlessly about back in the Town -- your notorious lack of game. No! New home, new you! Be cute. Be cute. 
“So, if I’ve given you all the gifts, what do I get?” You sent with a “thinking” emoji. 
Angel at least had the decency to wait a minute or two before replying, either thinking about his response or keeping you in suspense… you weren’t sure. But you were grateful for the little opportunity to catch your breath. How did he make you so speechless when he wasn’t even in the room with you? Some things just weren’t fair. 
“Niña, I paid you for this ink. What more could you possibly want from me?” 
Tricky Angel. Zorro. Like a little fox, he had effectively maneuvered the conversation back to you -- the ball was in your court. Would you tell him what you wanted?
You chewed the end of your fingernail thoughtfully before responding. 
“You texted me, boy. Are you sure it isn’t you who wants something?”
If only your friends could see you now. That was damn smooth. 
“Boy?” 
You snorted to yourself. Trust a guy like Angel to get hung up on something small like that. The bubbles reappeared. 
“I was thinking about this pretty girl I met the other day. Hell of an artist. But a shit poet. Thought I would see if she was free sometime?” 
Angel was merciful. You could kiss him. Had he seriously just taken all the weight out of this conversation? Your heart felt a million pounds lighter in your chest, knowing he was asking you. The wave of relief that he wanted to see you again crashed through you, replaced in the tide with the backdraft of a feeling of mischievousness. You wouldn’t let him off so easily.
So you waited before responding. Let him sweat a little, right?
Only… you weren’t sure Angel was sweating as much as you were, fingers itching with the desire to text him back and accept immediately. 
When what had felt like an eternity (but in reality had only been about seven minutes) had passed, you picked up your phone, opening the conversation with Angel. 
“She’s free next Thursday … After your bike week, el rey de los bandoleros.” 
You put your phone back down on the counter, grinning like an idiot, feeling like you had just swallowed a bunch of bubbles. You entertained the notion that if your combat boots weren’t keeping your feet weighted to the floor, you would have floated away. 
Your phone dinged once more.
“See you then, mi reina.” 
Time passes slowly the more you want it to go quickly. And whenever you have a deadline you’re dreading, it gallops ahead. Time really is that bitch, and she does not give a fuck about your feelings. 
The following Thursday felt like it took a year to arrive. But it found you closing up the shop, your stomach fluttering with butterflies and pop rocks, adorned in your favorite pair of jeans and boots, a clean, flattering tank top that showed off your own ink. You hoped it was fine for whatever Angel had in mind. 
Honestly, he hadn’t said anything about your date. A few flirtatious texts here and there? Obviously. You sent him photos of the pieces you had done for new clients. He sent you ridiculous selfies and a couple of group pics of him and his friends at the biker event. One guy who kept popping up in the photos, Angel had told you, was his “little” brother. But there was nothing “little” about that dude. 
You loved seeing all of Angel’s goofy, smiling faces. Treasuring the photos in your small moments of quiet downtime. 
The rumbling of a bike engine greeted your ears, like the seductive purr of a large cat. You glanced up, a full Cheshire grin alighting your features at the sight of Angel’s gorgeous, deep forest green bike, and the man of the hour looking very at home on the seat. 
He rolled to a stop in front of you, unclipping his helmet and dismounting with his winning trademark smirk, ambling over to greet you. 
“Frida,” he scooped you into a hug, his tall frame causing you to lift, your toes now barely brushing the ground as he brought you to his height. He pressed a soft kiss to your check, setting you down gently and letting you get your bearings, chuckling pleasantly at the obvious, dizzying effect his greeting had had on you.
“Angelito,” you returned. “Back in one piece?”
“Hail to the king, baby,” he countered. 
“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, scuffing the toe of your boot into the gravel of the lot. “So, where are you taking me, o benevolent one?”
“Just gonna hafta find out.” He handed his helmet to you, helping you clip and tighten it beneath your chin. “Ever ridden before?”
“Uhm, well, sure” you replied too assuredly, quickly realizing your slip. “I mean, no. Not like that. I mean, yes, like that. But not on one of these.” Fuck. Could you be more embarrassing? 
Angel released a full-bellied laugh at your response, his head tossing back a little. 
“You’ll have to tell me more about alla that later, cielo.” You put your head in your palm willing the embarrassment to go away. Angel quickly pried your hands away, cupping your cheeks with his own warm hands, long fingers brushing your cheekbones reverently. “In the meantime, just hang on, okay?” 
You nodded, still cursing your idiot-brain that had partnered with the dirtiest corners of your mind to take over your mouth. Shut the fuck up, dumb-dumb. 
You clung to Angel as he drove, your hands roaming his firm torso probably a little too-familiarly. You enjoyed the way the wind whipped around you, tugging at yours and Angel’s clothes as you made your way up the canyon overlooking the desert that was Santo Padre. 
Angel parked his bike on the ridge overlooking the town, the sun beginning its descent in the desert sky in swirling hues of pastels and cotton candy pink-purple-blue overtaking the orange hue. 
You had never been up here before, and you told Angel as much. He looked pleased at that, pleased that he was the one to show you the best view of the Santo Padre sunset. 
Angel busied himself unpacking the bags on the side of his bike while you enjoyed the scenery. Pulling out a couple of wrapped sandwiches and bottles of water, he handed yours to you, coming to stand next to you on the ridge. 
"Thanks," you acknowledged, looking at the offerings. "What, no beer?"
Angel chuckled a little at that.
"I ain't tryna liquor you up, niña. Besides, you want warm beer that's been rattling around on my bike all afternoon?"
You crinkled your nose a little at that. "No," you decided. "Never mind. Besides, I'm more of a whiskey girl."
Angel glanced at you, sipping on his own water idly.
"Really?"
"Really," you confirmed. "Don't tell me you're one of those guys who thinks it's impressive when a girl drinks whiskey because it's such a 'man thing.' "
Angel held up one hand, defensively. 
"Nunca. Just took you for more of a… dunno? Maybe a rum kinda girl?"
"Don't think so. For now, though? Water and sandwiches do me just fine. Whiskey can come later." You took a bite of the now-unwrapped sandwich. "This is good," you confirmed around a slightly-full mouth. "Did you make this?"
"Of course. Pop owns the butcher shop down the street from your parlour. Sliced the meat myself, an' all," he said, a little proudly now that he knew you approved of his sandwich-making skills.
"Bueno," you giggled. "Thank you for this, Angel. Really. This is one of the nicest nights I've had since moving here." You shuffled a little closer to where he was standing, looking in his eyes as you thanked him.
"Bah," he waved away your compliments, "it ain't alla that. This can't be the most exciting thing you've done since getting here."
"Maybe it is," you pressed. "I dunno. Maybe I'm too boring for the king of the bikers?"
"I doubt that very seriously, querida," he turned his body so he was facing you now, sandwich long gone, fiddling with the water bottle in his hands. "You play your cards right, I'll introduce you to the rest of the club. Then things'll get really exciting."
You blinked. One date and he already was thinking about introducing you to his friends? Your inner shy romantic (okay, not so "inner," right? You're pretty clear about who you are) was doing little somersaults in your chest. 
You must've been silent a beat too long because Angel was quick to supplement, "Only if you want."
"I'd like that," you confirmed, nodding and smiling gently. 
"So, are you gonna tell me what brings an East Bay girl here?" 
You raised a brow. You didn't remember telling him where you moved from. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck nervously, realizing you'd caught his slip. 
"I maaaay have scrolled your Instagram?"
You finished your sandwich, thinking about how much you wanted to tell him.
"Just time for a change of scenery. Olí is an old friend, and he offered me a job. I think he wants to travel more." You shrugged, "It just felt like it was time. Plus, I dunno… I like it here. Much quieter."
Angel nodded at that, not having the heart to tell you that his club was not at all quiet and was the source of the disruption in the otherwise-quaint town. 
You kept talking, telling him about the friends you'd left behind, your old shop, weekends spent in the park surrounding Lake Merritt, and going to Raiders games. Angel took in your features as you spoke, the golden light of the sunset making you glow like something out of a dream he'd had once. Your eyes sparkled as you talked about things you loved, the books and art that inspired your poetry. How you'd gone to art school. You were something.
"-- Sorry, I'm rambling," you breathed in a rush, flush with the amount of talking you'd been doing in a record amount of time. "What? Do I have something in my teeth?"
Angel realized he'd been staring as long as you'd been talking.
"No, querida. Nothing in your teeth." He gave you a dazzlingly white smile.
"Oh thank God," you returned his smile with a small one of your own, shying a little under his gaze, and wondering how long he had been looking at you like that as you'd talked.
He leaned over you now, his height giving him the definite advantage as he'd -- not unwelcomely-- invaded your space. He brought one hand up to cup your chin, his dark eyes revealing flecks of sparkling gold in the pastel wash of the sunset as his gaze once again met yours.
You saw his quick glance down at your lips, you unconsciously giving a small nod before his warm lips met yours.
Oh.
You had obviously been kissed before, been the recipient of past romantic attention. All of that paled in comparison, melting away as Angel's full lips maneuvered over yours, both of his large, calloused hands gently brushing your cheeks as he cupped your face, sliding one hand down to rest on the side of your neck.
You sighed lightly, one of your own hands twined into his shirt, the other resting on the side of his firm torso. 
Angel took the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips, your own brushing against his as the kiss deepened.
 You were in no hurry for the kiss to end, enjoying the way everything about Angel was so warm, something that was surprisingly welcome, despite the ever-present desert heat of Santo Padre. You could get used to this. 
You had only known Angel a short time, realistically. Your one meeting spawning a series of flirtatious texts and snaps, and now this date that, while low-key, felt almost too perfect to be real. He made you feel safe, desired.
You could already feel him slipping beneath your skin to rest in a special place in your heart. And while you as a person were generally reticent to share that part of yourself with anyone, you had a feeling Angel could take up permanent residence there. If he wanted. 
You dropped from your tip-toes, effectively breaking the kiss.
Angel blinked, looking down at you and noting the pleasant glow on your skin, lips now slightly swollen from his kiss. He could get used to this.
The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant blur, trading quips and stories as the sun went down. Angel told you about his club, his brothers. About his pop and Ezekiel, and how at one time, he enjoyed being the bigger brother, teasing, pranking and lording over EZ until EZ had hit his growth spurt and could (and would) definitely hit back. 
As he drove you home, you snuggled a little bit against him, pressing yourself into his back and enjoying the way you swore you could feel his heart pounding through the kutte and over the rumble of the bike and the road.
He'd dropped you off with a parting kiss and the promise of another date.
Another date turned into several. Time you weren't at the shop was now spent with Angel, showing him what you were working on, inviting him over for dinners and to watch mindless television while he told you what he could about his day. 
The both of you were slowly peeling back the layers around your respectively guarded hearts, revealing more of yourselves only to be met with pure acceptance by the other. Even blindados had to take off their armour at some point. 
You cherished your time with Angel, and he quickly found himself stumbling, head over his own biker-booted heels for you.
After a few months had passed, he had brought you to meet the club. You had manifested nothing but general acceptance of his lifestyle and were eager to meet the people Angel had so obviously cared for. Who had helped shape him into the brash but conscientious person he was with you. 
And one sunny afternoon had found you bringing lunch you had made for the entire club over to the scrapyard, Angel agreeing with your plan. You never were one to show up empty-handed. 
As you walked across the yard, past the gate, and into the clubhouse, your eyes adjusting to the dim interior from the blinding sun outdoors, Angel bounded over to greet you. Taking the bag full of homemade goodies from your arms, he pressed quick kisses to your cheeks, and one to your forehead. 
He turned, met with the pleasantly-surprised stares of his brothers. He announced your name to the room before turning to you, pointing at each man and supplying a name. You nodded, smiling and offering a warm wave to each. 
The man you knew to be EZ from all of Angel's initial texts and photos quickly strode over to you, shaking your hand in his impressively firm grip before bending down to press a quick kiss to your cheek with a,
"Bienvenido, hermanita. Angel's told me a lot about you. Won't shut up, really," giving you a sly wink as Angel swatted EZ's arm in annoyance at his brother's revelation.
Boys.
The smaller man with the sharp eyes and full curls you knew to be Coco made his way over to where you were now seated as Angel went to get you both drinks, the other men digging into your offerings as you made yourself comfortable.
He sat next to you, tossing you a, "You mind?" Lighting his cigarette after you’d shaken your head.
He studied you through his own plumes of smoke before leaning across the table and speaking to you, lowly and with an almost conspiratorial rasp to his voice,
"You did that cover-up for Angel?" He asked on a smooth exhale.
"Mhmm," you nodded. "He gave me free reign. I was nervous he'd hate it."
Coco seemed to chew over your words for a dragging moment. You shifted in your seat. He was definitely sizing you up.
"Bold move, pequeña, giving the secretario of a biker club a sleeve of flowers." 
"I suppose it was," you sighed, more than a little uncertain now. "But it felt meaningful, right, I guess. I just sort of… started drawing. I… think it worked out, though?" You trailed off.
Coco nodded. "It's a fuckin' good piece, mami. Angel told me what you'd said about memories making you who you are." He snorted lightly through his nose. "It's funny. We've never even met before, and you're already sounding like me." 
A small smile played across his lips, returning it with one of your own.
"I'm glad you approve," you nodded. "Angel's opinion obviously matters, and don't tell him I told you this, but it means alot coming from one of his family." 
And that's what they were. His family. You could see it. The obvious camaraderie and care underlying each of their actions with the other. You admired the system of support, cushioned by good humor, despite being flung regularly into harsh reality. It was clear -- they were there for one another.
Coco's voice broke your train of thought,
"Maybe you got space for me in your books one-a these days?"
Your small smile was a full-blown, sunny grin now.
"Of course. Anytime you want to drop by, you're more than welcome." 
"Gracias, chica." Coco leaned across the table and patted your shoulder before getting up and taking his leave.
And so it went. The boys would filter through your shop. Olí teasing you about his offense that all of his most lucrative, inked clients were now going to you. 
You enjoyed the time working on pieces for them afforded you -- offering you a glimpse into their inner workings, what they felt was important enough to take up permanent residence along their skin. Making idle chit-chat with you while you worked. And always, always sharing embarrassing little anecdotes about Angel. 
The months passed with you and Angel, finding comfort in your unpredictable, but welcome, respective routines. 
One night in particular found Angel wrapped up in your embrace, the physical embodiment of your gradual and growing trust in one another.
He had arrived home more than a little rattled, his eyes wildly darting to the corners of the room before settling in you, exhaling a shaky breath before striding the length of the room and crushing you to him, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips. 
You understood he probably couldn't tell you what had happened, but you asked anyway, needing him to know you would hear him.
"Angelito, everything okay?" 
He shook his head softly in the negative, but didn't elaborate. 
You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. 
"Okay. We don't have to talk about it," you wound your arms up and around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. "But it's going to be okay. I've got you. I won't let go."
He gripped your wrists, pulling your hands from his neck and sliding your arms down, bringing them to rest around his waist. Once he had positioned you where he wanted, he brought his hands to cup your cheeks, eyes heavy and dark with the weight of his stormy thoughts. 
He nodded at what you had said before bringing his lips back to yours. 
You brought one hand up to meet his, where it rested along your cheek. You twined your fingers through, joining your hands while breaking the kiss. You lead him through the apartment, bringing him to the bedroom. You had music softly playing from your speaker in the corner, candles lit to bathe the room in ambient glow and a warm, honey smell, all in anticipation of Angel's eventual arrival home.
You silently gestured for him to sit on the edge of the bed, where you took your seat next to him. 
You tugged the leather kutte from his shoulders, folding it reverently and placing it on the chair near the bed. He exhaled in relief, shoulders sagging once the leather manifestation of his obligation to a darker world had been removed. The weight of the world a little less on the mantle of his shoulders. 
You turned your attention to his feet next, unlacing and tugging off his boots. Then, his belt. 
Once he was just in his jeans and his t-shirt, you resumed your seat at his side, bringing him back into your embrace and carding your hands through his hair, as his head rested on your shoulder. 
Angel spoke, voice cracking as he broke the seal of silence in the room. 
"It was… it was awful, Frida." He sighed. "I do everything they ask. It's my job … Fuck. Sometimes I wonder how much more my heart can take. But then, I get to come home to you." 
His breath was shuddering now.
And while you didn't always know what to say -- it was a rare sight to see Angel so rattled. But you were a caregiver by nature, ready to give him the pieces of yourself that would make him feel whole.
You guided him down so that he could recline, you came to rest at his side, winding your arms around his torso, your face turned into his neck, cuddling him as he came down from the mania of his emotional high.
The moments passed, Angel's breathing leveling again as you stroked his hair in time to the soft music.
He turned his head to look at you, admiring the flutter of your lashes as you blinked at him, your gaze warm and adoring, full of twinkling fairy light and starshine. 
"Te amo, querida," Angel breathed. This was not the first time he had said it to you during your months together. But each time felt as momentous as the first, each declaration of love felt like the slip of something sweet, and you were determined to store it in your heart and mind forever.
"I love you too, Angel. More than anything," you murmured. "I love your smile, your sense of humor, your strength." You pressed kisses to his face and neck with each admission. "Mostly, I love your strength. And that you trust me enough to tell me when you don't always feel it."
He sucked in a shuddering breath before whispering to you,
"I love your mind. How creative you are. How you see everything so beautiful, just like you," he hmm’d. "Mostly I love your trust. And that you choose to give it to me." 
You kissed him again, leaning over him with your entire body, pressing your palms gently into his shoulders. 
As your kiss deepened, you each began to tug at the other. His hands carded through your hair, tugging gently, but firmly. You lifted his shirt from his torso, the kiss breaking so you could peel it away.
You divested one another of each layer, baring yourselves to the other, body and soul. Again, this wasn't the first time you had done this. But this felt momentous nonetheless. 
Angel skimmed his hands over your form, running his hands softly down and over your breasts, loving your soft sigh at his touch. 
You leaned over him once more, reluctantly removing his hands from you, and placing them gently down at his sides. 
"Your heart is mine, mine to protect," You hummed softly, invading his senses and placing kisses down Angel's neck and to his chest, trailing your lips lovingly over Angel's heart, and pressing one last deliberate kiss there. "And I take my job very seriously." 
As you kissed him, you lightly trailed your fingers down his torso, coming to rest at his hip.
Your declaration was met with silence; you glanced up at Angel through your lashes only to find him already looking down through heavy-lidded eyes at you, his now swirling with some unnamed, weighted emotion.
You trailed your hand across his hip, not breaking eye contact as you took his hardening length into your hand. He inhaled sharply at the sensation of your grip, but refused to look away as you began to pump him slowly, still pressing kisses to his hips, torso and thighs. 
"Please, querida," Angel gasped.
"Please, what?" You murmured back, your voice taking a throaty register you reserved strictly for private moments with your beloved.
"Please… use your pretty mouth?" 
You nodded. 
"Relájate, baby, I've got you," you assured. Sweeping your hair back, the action washing Angel with the sweeping comfort of your scent as you made your way lower down his body. 
Angel slumped back against the bedspread, glittering galaxy eyes still trained on you as you lavished him with attention. 
You took the opportunity to flatten your tongue, licking a broad stripe up the length of him, one hand braced against his firm thigh, the other holding him gently at the base of his cock as you worked.
You swirled your tongue around the tip of him, delighted at his throaty moans, feeling the effect they had on you, making you feel like you were burning from the inside, feeling the slickness from your own center as your thighs rubbed together. 
Taking Angel wholly into your mouth now, you bobbed over him, relishing in the heavy feel of him in your mouth and the throaty groans you received from Angel in response. 
Before you could spend too long lavishing him with attention, Angel tugged on your hair at the base of your neck. Following his grip, you lifted your head and released him from, watching (a little greedily) as his thick length bobbed against him when you relinquished him from the confines of your mouth. 
He guided you up his body, hand still knotted in your hair, pushing his mouth onto yours, uncaring of the saliva on your lips and chin, and the taste of himself on your tongue. 
You straddled his hips, surging the rest of the way up his body and effectively deepening the kiss. The hand that was once in your hair now made its way to loosely grip at your throat, the other skimming his way down your breasts, across your ribs and toward your center.
As his fingers traced through your folds, you involuntarily rolled your hips into his hand, alight at his touch, and desperately seeking more. 
Angel touching you was like the shock of a live wire. Every time felt just as electric as the last, goosebumps erupting across your flesh as his fingers traced across your skin. 
He chuckled through your fused mouths, drawing back at your reaction and the wetness he found between your legs.
"Eager, amor?" Every word fell that fell from his lips sounded like a dangerous purr.
You nodded, drunk on the way Angel's hand gently squeezed your throat, while the other was teasingly making its way to-and-fro across your wet folds, occasionally making his way up to lightly circle and press his thumb over your clit, making your eyelids flutter. Your hips continued to rock against his hand, silently begging for more, his teasing touch making you more than a little crazy.
"Yeah?" Angel asked, his voice thick and syrupy, the timbre like dark clouds. "That shit turn you on? Sucking my cock?"
His words combined with his touch made another rush of heat flood through you. You were certain you would pass out, that your knees would buckle. And you were doing so well, holding your place up and over his hips while he played with you.
The hand on your throat gripped a little tighter, causing your eyes to flutter shut.
"Nuh-uh, baby," he shook you lightly, all mirth gone from his eyes, no more pleasant, smiling crinkles at the corners. His full lips pressed firmly together. "I asked you a question. You answer that shit"
He pressed two fingers teasingly against your entrance, refusing to insert them, despite the little roll of your hips.
"Y-yeaahh," you sighed, head tossed back, "I-I fucking love it -- love you, Angel."
He rewarded you by sliding a long finger into you, allowing you to ride his hand. The hand still around your throat guiding you forward, over him, allowing him to press hot, open-mouthed kisses, first to your lips, dirty and raw, like an exposed nerve in his unabashed want for you. 
He relinquished his hold on your neck, allowing him to trail his lips and his tongue there, kissing you softly behind your ear, down and around your neck to your collarbones, all while his fingers continued their earnest treatment inside of you, his thumb now pressing to your clit, your warming crescendo building.
Using his height and the fact that you were straddling him, Angel encouraged you to lean forward, allowing him to capture one of your breasts in his grip, his mouth following. His warm tongue swirled around your nipple before he sucked the bud into his mouth, grazing his teeth ever so gently over your sensitive flesh.
Angel's attention was rewarded with your gasping sighs and breathy moans. How anyone could make you feel this good was beyond you. Angel had an uncanny ability to elicit responses and feelings like no other person before him.
You felt the thrumming hum and warm, sticky wave of your orgasm building as Angel worked his fingers inside of you, stroking that particular spot from within that he knew would be your undoing.
"O-oh," you whined, keening noises caught in your throat. "Please, baby, I n-need you. Need you inside." 
The room was sweltering. Or was it just you? Angel withdrew his fingers smoothly, not sparing you the chance to be disappointed at the loss of feeling as he smoothly flipped the two of you, guiding you down to the mattress and hovering over your trembling form. 
"Yeah?" Angel asked. "You ready for that, querida?"
You gazed up at him through your lashes, longingly. He would give everything, anything, that he had in the world if you only looked at him like that forever, gaze full of warmth, heat, and unfiltered, starry adoration. 
"Mmm," you nodded, "Please? Angel?"
He was only a man, after all. Who was he to refuse when you asked so prettily for him?
He gently turned you over so that your back was to him, running his hands down the slope of your back and guiding you to your knees, propping your hips up.
Positioning himself behind you, Angel resumed his grip on your throat, using it to guide your head around so that he could kiss you again while he guided himself inside of you. You moaned into the kiss at the sensation, never tired of feeling every ridge of his thick cock sliding into you like he belonged there.
Angel groaned, breaking the kiss and shaking his head, chuckling darkly, his eyes flashing as he swore, 
"Never fuckin' get tired of that shit," he began to move his hips, using his other hand that was gripping your hip to guide you along his lengthy, meeting his thrusts. "Never tired of your pussy … You're so … good."
Angel's words coupled with his thrusts were driving you crazy, causing you to eagerly meet him with the momentum of your own hips, the heat in the room spliced with the distinctive noise of his skin meeting yours. 
Angel, leaning over your back, crowded your every sense, the taste of him, of his kisses still lingering on your tongue. Your ears met with the harmony of your two bodies and the filthy words and sounds coming from Angel's mouth. The sight of him was as intoxicating as ever, as you looked over your shoulder at him, the shadows of the room playing across his tawny skin, glimmering in the low light with the sheen of sweat you knew was also present on yours.
“Say my name,” Angel pants into the slick skin on your back, kissing a line down your spine, his body covering yours possessively.
You were too caught up in everything Angel, failing to respond quickly enough for his liking as you gasped at every thrust.
A crack of heat flashed across your ass, Angel swatting you there once. You should be annoyed, but you couldn't lie -- you fucking loved it when he was like this. Only for you. 
"A-angel," you sighed, the crescendo of your orgasm climbing, threatening to burst any second, you tightening around Angel.
"Bueno," he purred. "You close? Yeah, you fucking are," Angel snarled, taking in the way you threw your hips back desperately to meet him, squirming one hand beneath you to touch yourself. "You can have it, baby, I'll make it good. You just gotta ask pretty for me." 
You deepened the arch in your back, flexing your hips back toward Angel, and gripping the bedspread before you in your fingers, face pressed flush with the sheets, your other hand still pressed to your clit.
Angel tilted your head, leaning over further and gripping your jaw, squeezing to pucker your cheeks. He kissed you, sucking your lower lip between his. He kissed you gently, a deceptive contrast to the hand gripping your face, his hips snapping into yours at a now-brutish pace. He pecked another light kiss to your lips, followed by another, gently biting your lip and dragging it lightly as he drew his face from yours.
He released your lips as you whispered another plea into his mouth.
"Come on then, baby." 
Your orgasm washed over you, pinpricks of striking matches splintering across your skin, followed by a euphoric wave of white-heat, blissfully soothing every nerve it had just lit.
Angel followed, emptying himself into you with a few final thrusts, groaning at the way you tightened just so around him. 
He withdrew gently, collapsing next to you as you both caught your breath. 
Your lashes fanned your cheeks as you blinked hazily at the form of your love through the soft glow of the room.
"I do love you, Angel," you told him, leaning across the sheets to rub your nose back and forth against his, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, grazing your soft fingers against the lines of his forehead, easing them away into an expression of soft serenity. "Always."
---
Now, you walked out of the clubhouse, around to the side of the porch, a quiet corner away from the noise. Willing yourself to calm down as small, hot tears trickled their way, uninvited, down your cheeks. 
Your thoughts were moving a million miles a second, the battle of luck you were waging with the universe saw you quickly losing. 
The year you spent with Angel replaying itself in your mind. Every word, every touch, that goddamn tattoo. Remembrance, my ass. How you would hold him when he came home too high-strung and strung-out emotionally for words. How you would save the best leftovers for him when you knew he had been away and would be craving the Chinese food from the place down the block when he got back. How he felt inside of you on the coldest nights and in the most tender mornings. How he would whisper enchanting endearments into the shell of your ear as he rolled his hips into yours, your mind and body completely his. How you would wear his shirts and overly-large socks around his apartment, leaving doodles and scribbled poems on sticky notes for him to find in his moments alone. How he kissed you warmly, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like syrupy possession that you never wanted to end. 
How it did end. How he had thrown out your world, crumpled it into a crushed paper ball and tossing it away with the carelessness of a child. Ending things with seemingly no spare thought for your feelings. How EZ had let slip when he saw you in town that Angel was expecting a kid, the timing of everything suddenly making a little more sense. How it made you feel, now that you knew you were wholly his, but he was never entirely yours. How you had kept to yourself in the months that followed, the cracks in your heart widening until you felt like you would drown in them. 
The pulse of your feelings for him, always strong; they warm you. But it was still you they all left behind. 
Your thoughts were still swirling when, off to the side, you heard the porch door open and close again, and you prayed that whomever was coming outside was going to have a smoke out front, or that they were on their way out. That they wouldn’t find you. 
But of course, these things never worked out how you wanted them. You cursed any god you could think of for just how un-fucking-lucky you were sometimes. 
Because, really, who other than Angel was making his way around the porch to you? Taking in your hunched form as you leaned over the railing, looking anywhere but at him. 
Of fucking course.
You kept your eyes down, focused in your clasped hands as you leaned over the railing, refusing to look at him. 
And now? Now he was looking at you, and it's the one time you wished he wouldn't. 
One thing you wouldn't do, now that he was here, was break the silence first. He didn't want to hear what you'd had to say, so why would you grace him with your thoughts now? Petty? Sure. But you weren't the one in there with your hands on some ass while a so-called friend harassed your ex. 
A few uncomfortable beats dragged on before Angel broke the silence, shattering it like glass with a verbal hammer.
"What'd he say to you?"
You remained silent.
"What the fuck did he say, Frida?" His voice angry now, demanding. The same tone he used to break your heart. 
"It ain't working. Not my fuckin’ fault you can't see it."
You rolled your eyes, another shard of icy glass painfully wedging into your heart at his use of the name. Still refusing to look in his direction when you replied, softly but sharply, 
"You know exactly what he said. What I'm trying to figure out is why, exactly, you care."
"I care, Frida," was all he offered.
You snorted in response. Undignified, sure. But couldn't he see this was killing you? Where was his mercy?
"I do," he insisted, the thud of his boots across the wood of the porch indicating that he was crossing to you, coming to stand a ways behind you.
"I'm not going to do this with you. He said some shit. It's over. We move on. What more could you have to say about that?"  
Keep it simple, keep yourself safe. You gave him nothing to say back. And then… 
"And if I told you I wanted you? I wanted you back?"
You whipped your head around to -- finally -- meet Angel's eyes, which you did for a fleeting moment before zeroing in once more on your shoes, staring resolutely at the ground. You were not going to let him see you cry again, godfuckingdamnit.
The fleeting glimpse of his face, of his eyes meeting yours once more after all this time, was enough. He looked more tired up close than he had before. Still unfair in his striking beauty, his midnight eyes still enough to pull you in, drown you in their oceanic depths. You hated it. Hated that he still had that power over you. But try as you might, you couldn't hate him. 
Your silence was killing Angel with the precision of a thousand miniscule cuts. Each deeper than the last. Until he couldn’t take it any longer. He reached through the space between, for where your hand rested on the railing. You saw the gesture coming, and whipped your hand away at the last moment, cradling it to your chest like he had burned you. You faced him fully now.
You chuckled softly, wryly, and devoid of any humor before you muttered, "You don't want me, baby. Please don't lie."
“And how do you know that’s a lie?” Angel mumbled thickly, working his tongue around the words, through his own emotion. 
You scuffed your toe into the hewn wood of the deck, shrugging before you responded, simply, 
“If I was what you wanted, you wouldn’t have gone looking elsewhere. And you certainly wouldn't have found someone else. You wouldn’t have said what you said, ended it like you did, with everything on just your terms.” You sighed deeply, with the rattle of tears lodged into your chest before you spoke again, “You made up your mind and never even let me say a word. If you wanted anything to do with me, you could have at least given me a word.” 
Angel blinked, hard. The familiar pressure of real tears building behind his eyes. You were right of course. And fuck, weren't you always? You'd always told him like it was, harsh truths that only you could cushion in your gentle, empathetic way. 
"Please, querida, just let me explain what happened--" 
You held up your hand, shaking your head firmly, effectively silencing Angel.
"No!" Much softer now, "No. I- I'm sorry, Angel, I don't mean to be rude. But, no." Your voice small, but clear, as you'd finally gotten your opportunity to say something back to him. "I, uh, I don't want to hear any explanation, and you really don't have to?"
You lilted the last part like it was a question, but continued on. 
"You, um, you've had a lot of time to tell me something, anything, about what the fuck happened. And you didn't. You left me with nothing. Just confusion and hurt, and I've made peace with that. It's taken a while, but … I just… I don't need that from you. I gave you space, always respected your decisions and opinions, and now you won't do the same. You're still trying to take from me. Offering me an explanation now?" You scoffed. "That isn't for me, and don't fuckin’ act like it is -- it's for you. And I understand that, that's fine. I'm not angry at you for that, but I'm also not going to humor it." 
You exhaled shakily, you couldn't believe you'd said all of that, that you had made it through.
Angel was speechless. It made your heart feel even sicker -- all of this silence from him for so long, and he'd offered to explain himself and you'd (gracefully) told him to fuck off. Why had you done that??
It was about time you'd stood up for yourself, that's why. 
An explanation would be nice, sure. But where Angel's words, whispered affirmations and heady declarations of love, had once made your soul swell and sing… now, you knew, anything he'd had to say to you would only serve to do the opposite. 
And your heart, perpetually bruised by nature of you being a hopeless romantic, just couldn't take it. 
You hopped off the porch, spinning around to face Angel, finding his eyes on you still. Hadn't you wished for him to look at you? To really see you once more? 
"I'm out," you tossed a thumb over your shoulder toward where you'd parked your car. "Sorry, I don't mean to abandon the old post, but uh, I'm sure you guys have someone to fill in. I'll text Aneesa to grab my stuff, don't worry about it." 
Like he would, you thought.
You were mostly rambling to yourself, and not really to Angel, as you backed away, fleeing to your car. 
Angel watched you go, the resonant ache in his chest that had been ever-present since tossing your stuff out, amplified when Luisa had left him, and now sure to be permanent, buried in cement beneath the weight of his every decision, and every word.
You looked good, he thought. Your hair was longer than when he'd seen you last. Your little skirt flouncing as you strode away. Your skin still glowed, full lips still twisted into that wry smile of yours that he had seen from across the room. All of that was true, but your eyes were also tired, and your smile never quite reached them. 
The thought that he was responsible for dimming that sparkle made him feel sicker than he already had. The way you had brushed off Andres, despite his obnoxious insistence, and the things the cocky  new patch had said to you -- may as well add those to the ever-growing pile of things stained and tainted by Angel's guilt.
And he was left alone with that guilt as you left the lot. He turned back to the party. His cool facade slipping back into place. Not ready to face the wrath of EZ and Coco, surely waiting inside to proverbially beat his ass.
What would you say if I come over? And we stand face to face now that we're older?
---
Angel shuffled into his apartment, the late hour catching up to his weary form as he ambled over to his bedside, flicking on the lamp. 
Rubbing a large hand down his face, he sat on his bed in a huff of exhaustion. Your first encounter in months since he'd all-but tossed you from this very room was pricking him with a kind of nauseating nervous  energy. But all he wanted to feel in that moment was you, whether he deserved it or not.
He'd still had it, didn't he? Where was it?
He pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, fishing through its contents for what he hoped was still in there.
His fingers curled over his prize -- a slip of paper adorned with your handwriting. Scrawled lines of poetry on a neon pink Post-It note, curled with age and disuse, something you had left for him while he slept in one morning. 
“I was thinking of you,” you had said when he had asked you about it later, shrugging as if it were the most matter-of-fact thing in the world. 
Your love for him was clean in its simplicity and forwardness, whenever he could wade his way through the mire of your shy demeanor. You had stuck the Post-It to his nightstand while he was sleeping and you made your way to work. Your words were cramped and crunched into the small paper square, but ready to greet him with the shining light of a sunny new day. 
“I see your ardor through a pearlescent lense, and all is pleasantly pink and blurry with you-- Resplendent in your love's solar hope. You are so warm beneath the brush of my fingertips, and I burn. So in love with you, as I am and as I do."
Now, his eyes scanned the words for the millionth time since you had written them. He had committed it to memory by now, wishing he could hold you instead of this crumpled piece of paper, mocking him with its annoyingly bright pink hue.
But how could he? Angel was the kind of man who simmered in his emotion -- burning slowly, lowly, only to reach a pitch. He kept to himself until he couldn’t any longer -- and then it was all bleeding hearts on a very crisp sleeve. 
He had done what he had thought was right. Cutting you out with all of the brutality and finesse of a battleaxe, to focus on Luisa and his unborn son. He thought she was what he wanted. But now, he didn’t even have them. He had nothing to show for his decisions but the lonely, sick feeling ever-present in his chest. 
The you at the beginning of your relationship would have kissed each bruise in his soul, one by one, until they were better. Would have gifted him with the warmth of your time and attention until he was made whole again with the molten heat of your gracious heart. But the you now? 
Angel could never, would never, cover the tattoo on his arm, though he had thought about it. Blacking it out once and for all, so the piece of you he wore on his sleeve would finally match the  pitch, and emptiness inside. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was, as he’d said all that time ago, your gift to him. And he’d made you a promise that he wouldn’t. 
All he wanted was to look you in the eyes so he could remember that he loved you once.
And not that he had any reason to know it, but across town, you had made it home. Your phone shoved to the bottom of your bag, lighting up with texts from Aneesa, EZ, and Coco. But the only person on your mind was Angel. 
How much of what he had said was true? You weren't sure. But you were sure that you knew where you stood, still painfully alone and in love as ever, the cracks in your heart only fillable by the very person you had brushed off earlier.
And, while Angel readied himself for bed, snapping the lights off and attempting to cut through the oppressive darkness by staring at the ceiling with his own penetrative gaze, the empty side of the bed had never felt more cavernous, but more weighted. Mocking. 
If Angel was being honest with himself -- something he was never too keen on being in his more sobering moments -- he didn't love you once. He still loved you.
Thinking after all this time, I just wanna meet your eyes so I can remember why... Why I loved you once.
Tagging:
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thebeebi · 3 years
Text
You will be beautiful.
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pairing: Taehyung x reader
warnings: disturbing, violence, yandere theme... can’t tell you much, because then it would not create the wow effect I wanted. ;)
genre: modern, rich boy / poor girl
word count: 4.4k
a/n: it would be better if you eat before reading this hahaha, you’ve been warned!  There might be some gram. mistakes. English is not my first language. Enjooooy ♥ 
...Y/N stopped walking and stood still, hypnotized by Taehyung’s every movement. Something about him was so attractive to her, that she forgot about the outside world. Not only was he handsome and her ideal type, but there was this strange aura around him that made her halt her steps and just adore his visuals. She stared at him so intensively, that even he felt it and looked up from his phone, looking around feeling something weird. He was unsure what it was until he met her gaze. To Y/N, it felt like an eternity when they locked their eyes, but Taehyung swiftly looked back to his phone smirking while whispering silently: “beautiful.” 
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They were so different. He was one of the most wanted men in the world. Not only he was born with a silver spoon but also his physical features were out of this world. She was just an ordinary girl not very pretty, but also not ugly, a bit of weight to spare. Since childhood, Y/N had several health problems, which resulted in the scale to show three digits of her weight. This caused both others and her, to hate herself. She hated her body until he showed up one day. When she saw him for the first time, her legs started shaking. It was when she was coming out of the university’s areal while complaining to her best friend, Hwasa, about her day and how others made fun of her weight. Y/N thought that once she changes the environment and enrols at university, people would act more mature and the bullying would stop. She hoped people would stop caring about her weight and looks, but nothing changed. As it was a problem at her high school.  It was even worse at the university because at lectures she attended there were about 200 people. She felt unwell even if she only had to pass through the lecture hall to find the seat. Usually, when the lecture ended she would go out hearing other people’s whispers or some rude guys shouting rude remarks at her. Elephant. Whale. Roach. It was more than often that she ran out of there with teary eyes without waiting for the lecture to finish. That was the day she met Taehyung. He stood in front of the gate while typing furiously into his phone. Even though he was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, Y/N realised she would not have any chance with him. Ever. Hwasa, who was waiting for her, ran towards her bigger friend and started talking about her boring day and what she has to do once she gets home, but Y/N paid no attention to her words. While Hwasa was talking about homework, Y/N stopped walking and stood still, hypnotized by Taehyung’s every movement. Something about him was so attractive to her, that she forgot about the outside world. Not only was he handsome and her ideal type, but there was this strange aura around him that made her halt her steps and just adore his visuals. She stared at him so intensively, that even he felt it and looked up from his phone, looking around feeling something weird. He was unsure what it was until he met her gaze. To Y/N, it felt like an eternity when they locked their eyes, but Taehyung swiftly looked back to his phone smirking while whispering silently: “beautiful.”
 “Beautiful,” Taehyung whispered when he looked away from the girl who was staring at him. Unknowingly, the girl was for him the most beautiful human he had ever seen. Her size, face without any scar and for sure she had a perfect body. Her body would be worth it. Taehyung would give her all his attention if he only did not have to deal with the problem in his company. He thought that he would just shortly reply to the stupid texts and look back 
 “Don’t forget the homework we have to submit due to-“ Hwasa turned to Y/N while explaining the importance of the papers they have to submit, but it was only then that she realised her friend is nowhere close to her. She looked around looking for her friend, but couldn’t find her. “Y/N?” She shouted walking back to the place where she has last seen Y/N. When she recognized a familiar figure, Hwasa waved at her shouting her name once again. When Y/N heard her name, she looked away from the mysterious man and waved back. “Why are you still here, Y/N? Let’s go!“ She said as she started pulling her hand leading them in the direction they were supposed to go. Again. I wanna see him again. As Hwasa tried her best to walk her toward the crossroad, Y/N turned her head towards the man but was surprised when he was already looking at her. Their eyes were locked until the two girls walked around the corner.
 “Beautiful,” Taehyung whispered when he looked away from the girl who was staring at him. Unknowingly, the girl was for him the most beautiful human he had ever seen. Her size, face without any scar and for sure she had a perfect body. Her body would be worth it. Taehyung would give her all his attention if he only did not have to deal with the problem in his company. He thought that he would just shortly reply to the stupid texts and look back at the mysterious beauty. He wanted to know her name and everything there is possibly to know, but before he could ask her, Taehyung heard a random girl shouting a name. When he looked up from his phone, Taehyung saw a skinny girl pulling his beauty away from him. “Why are you still here, Y/N? Let’s go!“ Taehyung inhaled deeply as he was trying to smell her fragrance. Y/N. He looked at the girl and saw that girl named Y/N is turning to look at him again until he lost her from sight. Right away, Taehyung pulled out the phone from his leather jacket, which he had designed and sewn up. Dialled his assistant’s number, waiting for him to pick up before giving him information about his beauty. “ XY National University, her name is Y/N,” he considered giving his assistant more information but at the same time he did not know anything else about his goddess, so he decided to just stay still. “Find her,” Taehyung said and ended the call before Mr Kim could say anything. Taehyung no longer cared about his company, nor any problems they were currently in. The only thing he wanted was her, Y/N.
It has been a few days since he met his beauty. Not only did he find out Y/N’s full name, address, amount of money she has on her card, but he finally had something he wanted. Her phone number, so he could call her. Even though he waited for her in front of the university every day, she did not show up, so he started to visit her favourite cafés and library. He tried his best to meet her, but it was like she disappeared. If he hadn’t find out all information about her, he would think she was just a beautiful dream. “So beautiful…” he sighed, while small scalpel was slowly cutting into the leather. Taehyung was in the studio, in which no other living being stepped into. It was a small workroom, in which A´he stored all the stuff for his hobby. He created most of the leather clothes and other stuff he wears in this room. The studio was dark, not only walls were painted to black. Even a sofa, which was near the window, was made of dark green satin and all other furniture was made of dark oak.
“Ring. Ring. Ring.”
Taehyung looked at ID showed on the screen of the phone, while softly stroking the leather which he was trying to straighten up and with disgust, he picked up the phone. “I am listening.“ Taehyung said, when he pressed the green button, making known to his assistant that he is ready to hear everything his assistant has to say. “That girl is at work, sir.” It was all Taehyung needed to hear before leaving all stuff alone running towards the car, wanting to meet his beauty. When he arrived in front of the café she worked at, Taehyung looked in the mirror making sure he looked good for the girl he wanted to meet for the past week. A strange smile appeared on his lips that did not disappear even after leaving his car, walking up to the door of her workplace.
Y/N turned towards the sound of the doorbell that rang that day for the hundredth time. “Welcome,” she said automatically without even looking at the man who just entered. Taking the rug to wipe tables, she sighed. I want my shift the end. I want to go home. She thought as she put the dirty rug to side and took little notepad to write down the orders from the customers. Y/N walked from one table to other asking what people want to order, if everything is alright and had small talks with customers until she got to the darkest corner of the café, which was lit up only by little light chains. “Hello, what would you like to or-“she wanted to ask, but words got stuck in her throat as she was who was sitting in front of her. It’s him! Y/N didn’t know how to react, should she jump around feeling happy or just turn around and run away from there, never coming back again. The latter option was more appealing but she needed the money to survive so she just coughed up, pretending that something was stuck in her throat, not wanting to show a handsome stranger that his presence influenced her. “Sorry about that. What would you like to order?” Taehyung who was amused by her behaviour was trying to read all the little details about her face and just mumbled so she could not hear him: “You.” Y/N thought she heard something, but wasn’t sure because she has been overworking herself lately, so she repeated the question: “Sorry, I did not hear you. What would you like to order?” Taehyung tried his best not to repeat his answer and rather decided to point at the advertised drink on the table. She nodded and went to the bar, so she could make him a black coffee Taehyung ordered. He watched her every move so it was obvious he did not miss her being clumsy. She somehow burned her hand and yanked her hand away from hot steam. That will leave the scar. He thought as looked away from her figure while she started walking towards him. Y/N came closer, preparing to put down the cup of coffee, Taehyung pushed the table which resulted in her spilling the coffee on the table and also somehow managed to stain his pants. As he felt hot liquid touch his tight, he stood up from the chair fast and made a sound that made everyone in the café focus on them. Only then did Y/N realise what was going on. “Gosh! I don’t know how this happened. I am so sorry!” Y/N shouted with teary eyes bowing to the handsome man. That was what Taehyung wanted. To see her being helpless. How perfect she looked when tears were staining her rosy cheeks. Even if Taehyung felt the pain, it was nothing compared to the bliss he felt when she cried. “It is alright, stuff like this happens, right?” he laughed and he softly pushed away your hand from his stained jeans. Y/N runs toward the place where she put the rug she was cleaning tables with and walked toward Taehyung, trying to make things better. Even though Taehyung was disgusted with cloth in her hand, he let her try to wipe away stains. “Sir, I am really sorry. I will do anything to apologize.” That is what Taehyung wanted to hear. He had to bit into his lower lip to prevent himself from laughing. How gullible, just how I wanted. My plan is perfect. He knew what he wanted. He had everything planned. All she had to do was to say yes. “If you want to apologize, then go on a date with me” Y/N wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly. Why would he want to go on a date with her, if all she did was cause him pain? She was not sure why he would want to go on a date with her. Is he making fun of me? She thought but before she could think of other negative thoughts, Y/N decided to shake them away. “Please, choose something else how I can apologize to you.” She looked at her shoes, not wanting to meet stranger’s eyes knowing that her thoughts must be right and that he is just trying to make fun of her. “Y/N,” said the stranger, but it was all it took for her to look into his eyes. She should not have done that and she was well aware of that. When she met him for the first time, she could not stop staring at him but now? When she is only a few centimetres away from his face? Impossible to look at anything else! “It is the only way to show me how sorry you are,” Taehyung said not breaking the eye contact between them. He knew she would say yes the moment when she did not ask him how he knew her name. He knew everything about her and that was why he knew she would not reject his proposal. “-but I” Y/N tried to find an excuse until Taehyung said calmly “-the only way”. Y/N wanted to find an excuse for not going on a date with him, but Taehyung’s  voice stopped her from interrupting again. “My name’s Taehyung, you finish at 6pm, right?” He asked her even though he knew when she finishes. He even knew that whenever she finishes her work for the day, she goes to a small convenience store for two minutes, so she can buy a grape soda in a can. She nodded and added that she will be done in 30 minutes. “I will wait for you.” Taehyung said as he sits down again in the corner of the café.
Time went by and after 45 minutes, Taehyung stood up from the chair, paid for his coffee and walked out of the café. He thought, that he should wait for her outside because otherwise, it would feel like he waited forever. The thought of her leaving without notifying him was so strong that it slowly but surely started to anger him. Where is she? Did she leave just like that? When I meet her, I am going to twist her n-. “I am sorry for being late. I hope you don’t mind.” Y/N said while smiling fixing her hair which was ruffled because of changing her uniform. Taehyung wanted to show how angry he was but decided to hold back not wanting to scare her. “Let’s have dinner at my place. My car is over there.“ He pointed at the yellow sports car. Y/N did not have a good feeling about this sudden invitation to a dinner date, but after all, she caused his inconvenience. Even though he was still a stranger, a very good-looking stranger, she decided to go with a flow forgetting about the warning sign in her head. Rational thinking told her to not go, but her heart wanted more than just a meeting. Not wanting to waste any more time thinking whether it was right or not, she walked towards the opened door of the yellow car and sat down looking around the leather interior which made her consider what kind of leather it was. The inside of the car smelled like her favourite lotion. Meanwhile, Taehyung walked around to get to the driver seat, she softly touched the beige cover of a steering wheel. “This smell is amazing, it reminds me of my body lotion” She giggled and looked at Taehyung who sat down to his seat. He smiled at her and with long fingers stroked the steering wheel. “Every bit of leather you see on my and in my car was sewn by me. It first, I had to remove meat and then I started working with leather in my studio.” Admitted Taehyung and added: “You are right. It smells here as the lotion because I used it. It is the best one on the market.” He looked away from Y/N and silently started the car, so they would arrive sooner to his house.
The ride took about twenty minutes before they arrived at Taehyung’s house, during which Y/N fell asleep. She was awakened to the sound of a door being closed. She wanted to open the door, but Taehyung was faster and opened it for her with a smile on his lips. “I hope you are hungry because I want to prepare something very special. Just for you.” Y/N smiled at him but shook her head. “I am dieting, I can’t eat much nor eat any meat.” Taehyung inhaled sharply and closed the door to the car once Y/N was out. “Then you should make today an exception. I will let you eat the meat of the best quality. It is worth it!” When they entered the house, she stayed silent trying to understand why this wealthy man asked her to dine with him. “This way,” Taehyung said while pointing in the direction of a huge living room. When she followed him and entered the room, he took remote control to switch on the television and put a hand on her shoulder. “I am going to cook, just stay here and relax. Okay?” Before she could say anything, he disappeared from the room.
He made sure Y/N was not following him when he got to narrow hall and looked around once again making sure no one was around him. Before he entered his workroom, he exhaled and nodded while smirking. Beautiful. He started walking towards the fridge, which is in the back, he stopped midway next to the table, on which he left his work earlier. He looked at the unfinished piece of leather and sighed. He touched it the only bit that had a little imperfection and frowned. Even after three days of working on it, he couldn’t get rid of the imperfections. “You could have been so beautiful but this…” Taehyung shook his head and walked to the fridge pulling out the piece of meat which he decided to make for dinner. “At least you will taste good.” He added walking away from his workroom and after exiting it, he stood still waiting for the door to lock automatically before heading to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
It has been an hour already. What is taking him so long? Y/N thought as she started walking around the room for the fifth time already. His entire house was furnished in a minimalistic style that even if she tried to look for any more decoration or picture, she wouldn’t find any. When she was about to walk to the window, Taehyung appeared while announcing that dinner is ready. “Come with me.” He came closer to her and held her hand trying to walk with her to the dining hall with a huge table that has been set up for two. Taehyung smiled at her sweetly and pulled the chair for her to sit down. When she did, he walked across the table and sat down himself. So romantic. She looked at the lit candles but soon enough threw away the thought knowing there would be nothing between them. “I will give you a little test.” Said Taehyung with which he made Y/N focus her attention on him. Even though she was a really shy person, that did not mean she wasn’t competitive. “What test?” Taehyung smirked and added: “I hunted this by myself. Can you guess what kind of meat is this?” Y/N was unsure what kind of test it was, but her growling stomach decided to play along. When Taehyung pointed at her plate, she took a knife and fork and started cutting up the served delicacy. When she put the first bit in her mouth, she was sure she has never tasted this kind of meat before. Pork? No, it was too different from the taste I know. Beef? Maybe, but some special kind. She wasn’t sure, but before she could try more of it, it was all gone. Taehyung was looking at her without paying attention to his plate. “Liked it?” he asked as he noticed she finished her meal. “Yes, I don’t think I have eaten a better meal than this. What was it? My guess is beef, but I am still not sure.” Instead of answering her question, Taehyung smiled and asked her. “What are your hobbies, Y/N?“ Forgetting their previous conversation, she stayed silent for a bit but admitted that no one has ever asked her about her hobbies. “I would say painting, what about yours, Taehyung?” It was the first time she has ever said his name aloud, but he already felt intoxicated with the idea of her screaming his name later on. How beautiful it would sound. He stood up from the table and took wine glass to his hands. “I love working with leather. I think it is the only thing I enjoy in this world.” Taehyung helped her stand up. “Do you want to see my workroom?” Y/N nodded and let him show the way towards the little room no other living human saw but him. When they got to the narrow hall, he pushed her carefully forward making her stand in front of the door which was locked with code. What could be so important, that he keeps it behind the locked door in his own house? Taehyung took her hand in his own and lead her to touch screen. “I will tell you the code, you can type it.” He laughed as she touched the screen that suddenly lit up. “7,” said Taehyung and she repeated. “7,” “7 7 5 5 4 4 4 6 6,” Taehyung revealed the secret passcode as Y/N softly whispered the numbers while pressing them on the screen. She focused her attention on the door as she hears the sound of unlocking. She pushed the door, so it would open but before she looked inside, her gaze met Taehyung’s with a smile.
Taehyung pressed himself on her back while trying to push open the door Y/N tried to open before. When her eyes went from Taehyung to the dark room, with courageous steps she walked in and looked around. His workroom was nothing special. Y/N noticed small fridge, huge and for sure heavy furniture, large table and wide glass case with some strange looking tools. She walked past the table to look closely at the tools, which Taehyung uses for his hobby. Her fast steps slowed down before they completely halted. Why would he keep in his workroom something like this? She thought as she touched the glass of the case. “Why would you need captive bolt stunner? She looked at the gun used for killing animals that were in her opinion too inhumane. “Don’t you like working with leather?” She suddenly felt unwell. Since she was born, she despised people who enjoy hurting animals. “How could you do this to them? Don’t you like animals?” Taehyung looked her amused. “I do, but… who told you I use these tools on animals?” A smile that was there before, is now long gone and so was the inner peace which has Y/N felt before. Through reflection on the glass, she looked into his eyes but she no longer saw the sweet, hot man who she met in front of her university or at the café. “I have to go!” She said after she gulped even though her mouth was dry. She turned around, determined to leave but Taehyung stood before her to block her steps. “Where would you go? You haven’t seen everything yet.” He placed his hand on her shoulders making her turn towards the table. He digs his nails into her shoulders as he pushed her forward. At first, Y/N did not understand what was so important but when she saw the leather on the table, her face turned pale. Is that skin? “Do you see that, Y/N? Do you see the imperfection?” Taehyung pointed at the tattoo. “I didn’t know she had that. Otherwise, I would have never asked her to eat dinner with me. I wouldn’t share with her same delicacy I served you tonight.” She widened her eyes realising what was going on with tears in them. “But I forgive her that she did something so horrible to her skin. At least she tasted nice.” He laughed and held her chin between his thumb and index finger and with that he made her look at him. “You don’t have any tattoo, right?” Her silence changed to heart-breaking cries. When Taehyung did not receive the answer he wanted to hear, he asked again, but this time with more emphasis on the last word. “Right?!” The only thing she could do was nod slowly. “Great! Do you remember the jacket I was wearing when we met for the first time?” He inhaled sharply and continued: “It is worn-out already and I need a new one. When I saw you for the first time and your beautiful huge body, I knew right away that you will make a perfect materia-” “NO!” Y/N shouted trying to push him away but it was all in vain. “I hope you did not expect getting that delicacy without me getting anything in return?” Even if she knew something was up, she wished and prayed that her hunch was not right. “What are you talking about? I don’t get it!” She was confused and not ready to accept reality, but as she heard the door that was before opened automatically locking, she knew it was the end. “You tasted her precious flesh.” His head moved to the direction of the table. What I ate was a human flesh? She was ready to throw it all up as she tried to push her fingers up her throat but Taehyung helps both of her hand. “And since you did not pass my test,” She was not looking at Taehyung, but his eyes were filled with love for her body as he licked his lower lip. “…now you will be another test for another beauty I will meet later on.” As she could not bear what he was saying, Y/N fainted in his arms, but he let her fall on the cold floor. He saw that so many times that it started getting hilarious. “Oh dear Y/N, just as these was Hana and Jennie, from whom I made the cover for seats in my car, there was also Joy from whom I made my jacket. The pity is that Jane had the tattoo on her skin, otherwise I would use her for my new jacket. And now … You are here. And in the future, there will be others who will not pass my test.” He sighed as he walked towards the glass case and pulled out the captive bolt stunner. You will be beautiful.
a/n: I hid something in the code,  I wonder if you can decipher it. :) 
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voile-de-lune · 3 years
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S1: rating the guys
8. VMiles/VJasper: what an absolute, massive, stratospheric pain in the ass this guy is. As soon as you couple up with him, he’s all smug and a massive d**k. But I gotta say that I’m never mad at him for saying we should crack on with other people, I couldn’t agree more but MC acts all hurt and causes a scene. I just want the option to be chill about it until the next recoupling. Anyways, his morals and values are questionable, in Miles’ case his tattoos are hideous (I really like his design tho) and his night wear to. However, when he’s coupled up with Allegra they’re the perfect antagonist couple and the Villa is less fun without them around. I love their interactions with MC and the shades they throw at each other.
7. RMiles/RJasper: he’s a decent guy that doesn’t hold a grudge because you got him dumped. He’s nothing special tho, he’s there, doing his thing until he has to leave the Villa again. 
6. Mason: not a fan. I tried to like him but I don’t vibe with him. He thinks he’s the shit, can’t make up his mind about who he wants to be with and the second he couples up with you he cheats on you. Like seriously, are you kidding me now? His overconfident, cocky personality is a huge turn off for me and I’m pretty sure that, while he’s talking to you, he���s looking at his reflection in your eyes. If he’s not the one involved in Cherrygate, he’s a tad better and I feel really bad that no one acknowledges that he was also cheated on. 
5. Reese: he’s ok I guess, but I’m not a fan. He loves the drama and keeps on stirring the pot, revealing something he has seen before his arrival and then pretending it just slipped. I’m glad he was able to keep Erikah interested long enough for them to finish the game together and eventually get engaged (although I think IRL they would never get that far). The wrestling part was cute.
4. Levi: as for Mason, my feelings for him vary depending on his involvement in Cherrygate. Overall, he’s a good looking guy that probably spends too much time on the roof terrace having Olympic swimming pool deep thoughts (such a bad joke hahaha 🙃😑). He’s sweet and takes his time to get to know you before committing and he’s always honest about his feelings for Jen. If you’re coupled up with Mason during Cherrygate, he’ll confront Mason which is nice, it shows that he truly cares. If he’s involved in Cherrygate my feelings are the same as for Mason. On a side note, I don’t get why he's so obsessed with always reminding us that he’s a water polo player and went to the Olympics, like I get it, but after the 100th time you’re talking about your swimming skills I might lose it, you know? Is there nothing else interesting about him? What does he even like apart from water polo? A mystery 🕵🏽‍♂️ 
3. Rohan: I really like him, he’s cool, unproblematic, can do handstands and almost got us in a menage-à-trois with Jake. Fusebox really did him dirty by using him as the rebound guy for most of the girls, he’s way more interesting than the main LIs and I wish he was a romantic option. He’s considerate and really values your opinion. Besides he’s part of the rap crew which makes him even cooler and I can totally see us being friends IRL. 
2. Jake: he’s tall, dark, beautiful as a Greek God, (Jen’s words not mine but I highly agree) and he gives me massive BDE (big dick energy for those wondering or that didn’t go on a date with Jakub 😬). Jake is my ideal man (with a spritz of Lucas and a side of Gary please!), he’s mature, level headed, supporting, caring and sweet. He’s not interested in drama, he’s the mediator/father figure of the group and he can cook, like head chef’s level of deliciousness, if that’s alone is not a good reason to romance him I don’t know what to tell you. My only complaint is that I wish he wasn’t so shy, why even go to Love Island if you’re not putting yourself out there, well that and mostly I’m still salty that he friendzoned me (🔪) and I was robbed of amazing moments with him for most of my time there. 
1. Tim: the MVP of the season (and probably of all litg seasons), our OG friend, our ride or die. There is so much to appreciate about Tim, the banters, the laughter, the human brush skills *wink wink* but most importantly his unconditional support. I just love Tim, he’s wholesome as a friend and probably he’s also an amazing partner. Oh just imagine all the fun you could have together 😍 When I first started playing LITG, I started with S1 and Tim stole my heart, there’s no one like him and that’s why he’s my Nr. 1.
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crushzone · 3 years
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Nin! I’ve been seeing this around recently, but I would love to see you ship your moots if it is ok! ♥️
Hahaha hey there, sure thing! It’s so difficult to be bias free because I know my moots’ crushes, but I shall do my best! I’ll mostly likely pair you guys with someone outside of your crush, just to introduce some new potential partner to your life ;). If I had left anyone out by accident, I am SO sorry!!
✨ Shipping my Moots ✨
@scorpiosanssexy
Sugawara Koshi - Lil sis, I am so sorry it is not Kei. I think Suga is absolutely hilarious and a sweetheart, I’m sure he loves it when you roast him here and there because he’d do the same right back at you. He’s also such a sassy man, so if sassiness is something you enjoy (*cough* like Kei’s, except he’s not a meanie 😠), he’s got it! If you do not know how to cook, neither does he, but you will get to suffer together. He’s also a teacher (which I know is also your thing), so let’s pretend he had to read so many books that he has to eventually get glasses! Will 100% dance real silly with you when you’re both tipsy, but please try to calm him down when he keeps getting ID’ed whenever he tries to buy booze, he’s got that forever cute baby face.
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Look, I photoshopped him in glasses for u. ☝🏼
@ceo-of-daichi
Takeru Nakashima - Tbh, it was really difficult not to go with Daichi for this one. I know Takeru may not suit your appearance preferences, but I think you guys would be a very adorable pair! He is very family oriented, had grown up with a bunch of siblings, is a team captain (i know u like captains 😉), and seems like a sweet guy in general. So he will 100% be a fun pal to joke around with, but he’s also really responsible and will take care of u on your night outs. I can see you with his little family cheer squad, they are all just in love with you and consider you a part of their family. 10/10 husband material with that A+ domestic lifestyle.
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@honey-makki
Saeko Tanaka - I shall pair you, my queen, with my other queen, Saeko. 👑 Together, you are unstoppable, and just the sight of you both hanging out together would make me run away because I tend to do that whenever I am near anyone attractive. Imagine Saeko picking you up on her motorbike just to go grab some dinner downtown together. All the jokes you’d share, how loudly you would laugh with each other, regardless if whether you are in a public or private place!! She’d probably help you proof read your fics and brainstorm any spicy scenarios with you too! Bet she loveees having you lay on her chest as she strokes your hair, alternatively, she also loves being your big spoon. 🥺
@heauxzenji
Kuroo Tetsuro - My other queen, I shall offer you my nerdy king, Kuroo. 👑 Idk man, appearance-wise alone, I already think you’d both be such a beautiful pair. You two are definitely the type of couples on Tik Tok (or whichever apps people use now a days LOL 👵🏻) with a bunch of “relationship goals” in the comments. He’d be a lot of fun to joke around with, will take great care of you, loves to smack your booty (respectfully) because he knows you are absolutely beautiful, and will call you the cutest nicknames. He also secretly reads your spicy fics without telling you, and will maybe try out a new thing or two from it the next time u guys baaaaang. 💥Spiciness aside, he cherishes all your quiet moments, just sitting next to each other as you sip on some tea, your books in hand as you lean shoulder to shoulder against one another.
@tedwardos
Azumane Asahi - idk, I think you both would be incredibly adorable! He is basically kind of like Yams but with a whee bit more softness. He absolutely loves to cuddle, play video games with you (but please go easy on him, he’s a little scared of certain games), and learn new things (e.g. playing DnD for the first time). Tbh, I think he would be great at DnD because he enjoys the imagination and character design aspect, bet his characters are always the best dressed one. Will help style your hair, cook you breakfast, give you shoulder massages, and just spoiling you in general, as long as you hold him close and tell him you love him every now and then to keep him well assured. You’ll never get cold during winter, he’s basically a human furnace who always make sure your feet are covered by the blanket when you cuddle on the couch.
@nonexistent-social-life-mainacct
Akaashi Keiji - I genuinely think this would be a wonderful match. Firstly, he is a wonderful listener, so he’s there for you to come home to after a tough day at work. If it is not something he can actually help you with, he will do his best to cheer you back up after you had gotten everything off your chest. Secondly, look at this 👇🏼
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Girl, he will PROTECT you from all those mysterious bruises that tend to appear on your legs haha. Lastly, I know that when he loves someone, he will do all these adorably thoughtful things for you: like massaging your feet, leaving you cute post-it notes before he leaves for work and buying you flowers randomly. I just, I just want the best for u and I KNOW Akaashi will not disappoint at all.
@mer92
Tadashi Yamaguchi - ok hear me out! Baby boy had been crushing on you from a distance for the longest time, he just absolutely admires how you are so hardworking and passionate towards your dream job. He sees how much you care for your friends and he’d always wished he could be a part of your group too. Eventually, when you are both together, he is a wonderful listener, will go out of his ways to spoil you just to see you smile again. He will give you shoulder massages when you are being too tense, and if anyone gets in the way of achieving your goals, he will step up and defend you. Will also buy extra onigiris from Onigiri Miya and bring them to u for lunch, just to make sure that you don’t accidentally skip any meals because you’re too laser focused on your studies! Speaking of studying, he loves studying with you, and is actually a wonderful work buddy. (Always sneaks a glance at your adorable concentrated face)
@danibby
Kotaro Bokuto - Bokuto ADORES you with all his heart omg. When he catches you dancing or choreographing, he will straight up sway or beg you to teach him some moves, before proceeding to absolutely crush it. If he sees you trying out or applying some makeup/skincare products, he will ask you if he could watch or play with it too. Basically, he loves you so much, he just wants to understand and be a part of what you are doing, while he’ll also do the same where he’d teach you the little things he loves to do (will probably try to get you to play volleyball with him ahah). Is fantastic at cheering you up when you are not feeling too good about yourself, and will tickle fight you until you smile for him. Speaking of tickle fights, initiate it at your risk, because he is hella strong, he’ll pin you down or pick you up really easily to his advantage. BIGGEST HYPE MAN, you can walk out, wearing a trash bag and he would still be 😻😻😻.
@shhhlikeme
Aran Ojiro - I know I’m not being too original with this pairing because you actually crush on him to begin with, but you two are just perfect for each other tbh (was going to pick Toshi at first, but thought Aran would be a better fit)! Firstly, you are both absolutely S T U N N I N G ✨, I would be SO intimidated to come anywhere near this power couple. Secondly, you’re both so diligent, kind, and smart, everyone looks up to the two of you, wishing they could be you (Keep wishing, peeps 💅🏼) . Lastly, he seems like an absolute sweetheart, loveeeeees to spoil you with random hugs, kisses, and gifts, and will joke around with you a lot. He’ll find any way he could show you off to his friends, and they’d all be so jealous. It is nice to know that you can always lean on him if you ever have to, and he knows he could do the same with you. Bet your family absolutely LOVES him too, 100% the kind of guy you would want to bring home.
@bjbex​
Yu Nishinoya - Noya is IN LOVE with you, he thinks you are freaking beautiful, is a hottie, and basically his queen. He’d keep crushing on you until you finally give him a chance. When you are together, he’d do anything to please you, ultimately, he just wants to see you smile and happy all the time. He’ll crack some jokes and be a little goof just to cheer you up! Also wants you to freaking DOMINATE him hahahah, trusts you completely, please do as you would like, he’s all yours. Loves getting his lil booty smacked and pegged, but is also always down to pleasure you. Just grab him by his hair (loves getting his hair pulled) and put him in any position you want him.
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Will pull some “accident” like this often, so please prepare yourself. Will travel the world with you and take a ton of photos, then proceed to set photos of you as his wallpaper/lock screen on every device.☝🏼
@dymphnasprose
Tendou Satori - Tendou ADORES YOU, for real, he freaking ADORES you (But I adore you more, so he can back down 🤚). He loves to be your little spoon (will literary purr if you give him head rubs), boasts about you to his friends all the time (especially to Toshi), likes to endearingly tease you a lot, and will cook you some nice food all the time (he probably went to culinary school, after all, to become a chocolatier). The first thing he does when he gets back home from work? Hunt you down and immediately cling on to you as he pepper kisses all over your face with that oWo face, if ya know what I mean. Also LOVES to get freaky, this man is flexible, he just loves being intimate with ya, so tell him what you want to do and he will most likely be down to at least give it a shot. ;) Also loves to randomly buy you some cute clothes or jewelry you had been eyeing, he doesn’t do it often, but he’ll spoil you with it here and there when he can. Loves to sing random songs for you, “Dymph-nuhhh, Dymph-nuhhh, my darlin, Dymph-nuhhh~~”
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@pleasantanathema
Akiteru Tsukishima - Let me start off by saying that I am absolutely in love with Akiteru, and because I love him so much, I shall pair him with you! Lauren, I am in love with you from the very first moment you’ve hit me up, I feel like our vibes match and because I feel the same way with Akiteru, I believe he would really vibe with you too! He’s an absolute sweetheart who will go out of his ways just to make you happy, you’d both spend hours chit chatting about the most random things, just giggling constantly, and before you know it, it’s already really late at night. He LOVES taking photos of you, and his phone is filled with photos of the two of you. Kei doesn’t really care much about you, but Akiteru will keep bringing you up in conversations with him anyway because he’s just extremely grateful to have you in his life.
@afictionalwhore
Ittetsu Takeda - Listen, as much as I believe Keishin is the perfect man for us you, Takeda is another husband material, adorable man who would also be just as perfect.
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LOOK AT HIM REALIZING THAT HE IS IN LOVE WITH U. Also Keishin looking like a snacc right next to him, but this post is not about him mmkay?
Takeda is so weak for you, he’ll spoil you rotten where he can, and his affection bank is unlimited, will constantly remind you that he loves you. He’s also really shy, so sometimes, he’ll try to be “sexy” and initiate something, only to stutter and blush terribly when he attempts to execute it, so please be kind HAHA (I think find that really endearing tbh). Fully understands how tiring it can be to work with children, he is also a teacher after all, so at the end of each day, you’ll both take warm baths together, cuddling as you laugh about all the silly things your kids had done today. Sometimes he will help substitute for you too, if you ever need to take a day off.
I’m very proud of this list, ngl, I stand by my ships 😉
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imo-chan-imagines · 4 years
Text
『 Haikyuu!! Week 2020 | Day 3 』
· Sept. 27th → Irresistible Force ·
Characters: Karasuno team
Prompts: A. favourite team + B. crossover/AU
Tags/warnings: Haikyuu!! (anime), PG, fluff, crack, a teensy bit of angst (because who doesn't love a sad superhero backstory), headcanons, AU, superheroes, HaikyuuWeek2020
A/N: Again, I love all the teams and didn't want to pick, but life is cruel, so here I am. This is headcanons about my fav team (Karasuno) in an AU (superheroes). I was thinking of a Hero Association, kind of like in 'The Boys'? But less corrupt... Maybe more like in 'One Punch'? I think you get me.
All of my Haikyuu Week 2020 posts will be SFW, but I have NFSW content on my blog if that butters your biscuit. Feel free to check it out! Thanks for reading! Please enjoy ♡ Imo~
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Karasuno / Superhero Association AU
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☆ Sawamura Daichi ☆
Powers: nigh invulnerability, super strength, enhanced healing
If he's not the ordinary cop that somehow befriends the heroes I was tempted then he's definitely the leader of the superhero group
Kind of like Superman in the old-school Justice League, just not as OP lol
Looks damn good is spandex those thighs *sweats*
Cape!! so ✨majestic✨
Probably wears dark-ish, neutral colours with a dash of blue
A bit serious. Not the kind of hero to go around making quips all the time, but will make light of his own suffering like Captain America
Takes younger heroes under his wing like the true Dadchi he is
Strong moral compass. Unbreakable
Won't hesitate to lay down his life for others
Who am I kidding. He's basically Captain America with a cape
Poster-boy for the Hero Association
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☆ Sugawara Koushi ☆
Powers: telekinesis
A soft, pearly aesthetic with his suit, hair and skin. Lots of white and silver
A favourite among the ladies he's just too pretty, damm it T T
Very plucky and adorable
People in the vicinity will literally faint when he goes all serious to concentrate and use his powers
Has a duo move with Daichi where he literally throws him like a missle YEET
Has the most followers on Twitter and TikTok and his fans can be pretty nuts
Has a perfume line named after him and models for the adverts
Will smile like an angel right before bringing a building down on top of you fuck, I find this one really funny
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☆ Azumane Asahi ☆
Powers: regeneration, enhanced stength
Kind of like Wolverine or Deapool but, like, much, much softer on the inside uwu
Wears green and black
Messed up big time back in the day and dropped off the grid out of guilt some people died :(
Was convinced to come back when his old teammates finally found him again because they needed his help in a crisis
Literally shed tears of relief when heroes and citizens alike welcomed him back instead of hating him mah heart *sniffs*
Can withstand seemingly anything and fully heal within a matter of days
Doesn't know the full extent of his powers himself. How exactly do one test it? 🤔
Still has to psych himself up for a fight, though big softy, really
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☆ Shimizu Kiyoko ☆
Powers: electrokinesis, flight
Powers like Storm from X-Men, and kicks ass like Wonder Woman
Refuses to wear a revealing suit, but looks bomb af anyway
Kiyoko = absolute queen
One of the most powerful heroes, but doesn't throw her weight around unless she's kicking bady-guy booty
Stella gynamast, and has mastered several martial arts
Can literally throw a guy three times her size, all without any strength powers Tanaka: 👁👄👁
Somehow has perfect hair all the time secret superpower??
Is active on the political stage as a human rights activist, headlining women's rights yes, yes yes
Will strike you with lightning for sexual harassment
Comes up with really good mission plans
Is a soothing balm for Tanaka when he loses it
Black and gold aesthetic✨
Asymmetrical cape! super fashionable
Poster-girl for the Hero Association
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☆ Tanaka Ryuunosuke ☆
Powers: fire generation and manipulation
Tanaka brings the heat literally
A bit of a chaotic-good, but what's new there?
Can get out of control if he loses his focus, so his friends have to keep him grounded Kiyoko is a literal angel when that happens
Kiyoko: Sun's getting real low...
Bonus points if you get the reference
Is terrified of hurting innocents if he gets out of control
It rarely happens, but if he loses his self confidence, his powers don't seem to work
Shouts cringy lines at the villains before roasting their asses lmfao
Wears a black and orange flame-retardant suit, and actually looks pretty fine in it 😌👌
Literally head over heels for Kiyoko just imagine it. Biggest hype man
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☆ Nishinoya Yuu ☆
Powers: animal metamorphosis, enhanced speed
Think Beast Boy from 'Teen Titans', but less green he's more likely to be yellow or orange, lmao
Handy in lots of different situations. Very versatile
Incredibly cheeky and joins in with Tanaka's cheesy jokes and one-liners
Absolute maniac, but the people love him, especially schoolkids lmao
Has his own energy drink flavour, and he's STOKED about it
Yellow and black suit, kind of like his hair
Has a surprisingly large following of fans
Laps up the attention, but it doesn't really go to his head
Quiet and serious when he's on a mission/fighting
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☆ Hinata Shouyou ☆
Powers: self replication, super speed, levitation
His powers took a while to properly manifest, which left him feeling isolated as a teen
Was pretty lost until Ukai helped train him
Got into a fight with Kageyama in an alleyway when he first met him MET HIM IN THE STREET, LMAO
Argues with Kageyama a lot at headquarters, but they work together like a dream when taking down bad guys
Has a heart of literal gold precious baby
Is contantly amazed when he helps significantly
Was inspired to become a hero by his idol, the Little Giant and it's his dream to inspire someone else 😭😭
Uses his replication ability to confuse the bad guys ULTIMATE DECOY
Levitates around the room when he's excited like Aang from ATLA, hahaha
Wears an orange, white and yellow suit with little wings on his heels cuuuute
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☆ Kageyama Tobio ☆
Powers: water/ice generation and manipulation, breathing underwater, superhuman reflexes
I was tempted to give him fire/ice powers like Todoroki, but I didn't want to detract from Tanaka
Has problems focusing his powers, and can be quite turbulent in the heat of battle
Finds it hard to work well with others initially, but really makes an effort
Has hurt people close to him by accident before and never wants to do it again it would tear him apart
Becomes a power duo with Hinata when Ukai helps train them, even though they don't seem to get on well at first
Broody boi on the surface, but a cinnamon roll deep down
Wears a dark blue and deep purple suit that has fins to assist in underwater escapades which are his forte
Freezes Hinata's feet to the floor when he pisses him off or anybody's feet, tbh
Can dodge almost anything because of his reflexes don't ever try to punch him. You'll look stupid
Is surprised by the number of people in his fan club especially the number of women asking to marry him??
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☆ Tsukishima Kei ☆
Powers: telepathy, superhuman intellect, mind control on weak-willed individuals
Prefers to outwit his enemies rather than getting into a brawl
But his self-designed gadgets and tech help him out if he has to a bit like Tony Stark, wink wonk
Sometimes makes you question if he's really a hero or not Tsukki, please
Doesn't take orders well
Baits villains by insulting them and getting the better of them with his words it's hilarious
Comes up with good plans, but improvises well with whatever he's got
Probably wears suits over his spandex most of the time fancy shmancy
Is prepared to die to protect Yamaguchi waahhh
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☆ Yamaguchi Tadashi ☆
Powers: invisibility, force fields, teleportation
Susan Storm with added teleportation, lol
Often finds it hard to value his powers because they're not as visually strong and impressive as other people's
Rather than squaring up to a battle, he often has to 'hide' from it by literally going invisible
But he gradually becomes aware of how vital his powers can be, and learns to control them and make them as advantageous as possible
Is a highly important and valued member of the team
Soft bean that gets nervous and throws up before a fight
But he's hella determined and won't back down
Honestly, just wants to protect Tsukki and make him proud PROTECT HIM
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☆ Yachi Hitoka ☆
Powers: size manipulation
She can shrink and enlarge herself and objects she touches at will, including other people
Sometimes shrinks really small to avoid social situations she doesn't want to be in samez, honey
The clumsiest and least experienced on the team
But she tries her best, gradually getting to grips with her powers
Sometimes uses her powers by accident, like when she's nervous
Once touched a watermelon slice on the refreshment table and accidentally blew it up to the size of a car Hinata, Kageyama and Noya fully dug in with their faces 😭😭
Nearly passed out when Daichi, the literal god of the Hero Association, told her she had great potential
Don't worry, Yams teleported and caught her
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☆ Ukai Keishin ☆
Powers: laser vision, metal mimicry
The has-been hero who lost his enthusiasm for hero-ing and retired some years ago
Was really cool back in his hayday. Big hot-shot with a fan club
Has been working as a convenience store attendant to pay the bills and is bored out of his mind but refuses to admit it
Was convinced to get back in the game when he found Hinata and Kageyama fighting, both struggling with their abilities. He broke up the fight and agreed to coach them
Doesn't do much of the flashy hero stuff anymore, but will occasionally get stuck in when he's needed must protecc his children
Is only, like, ten years older than the other heroes, but they treat him like some fossilised sensei out of Natuto, or some shit
Tbf, he has the back problems of one 😭😭
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☆ Takeda Ittetsu ☆
Powers: power absorption
Transferred from being a hero to hero management after having having issues with the effects of his powers he has a conscience :(
He felt guilty and responsible for permanently taking the powers of others, even if they were criminals
It was like removing a piece of their souls it kind of broke him
These days, he makes sure nobody knows about his powers, so it can't be used against him
He helps in any other way possible
He would only use his powers again in dire circumstances he knows he'll eventually have to
Is generally chipper and good natured, though
If he was ever captured by a villain, they'd probably send him back because he talks too much omg, hahaha
Helps gather info for the team and direct them on missions and in fights
Gives bomb inspirational speeches ✊
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© imo-chan-imagines 2020
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57 notes · View notes
ae0nx · 3 years
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SUPERPOST: DIGIMON ADVENTURE: LAST EVOLUTION (KIZUNA) RECAP/REVIEW SPOILERSSSSSS
SPOILER ALERT I WILL BE GOING INTO DETAIL. SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER.
I’m not gonna do a blacktober/drawtober today, but I willlll rant about Digimon, because nothing ever really changes. Ok, I’m tipsy and I feel like everyone and their mum has watched Kizuna now so I wanna finally express my feelfeels on it. Let’s goooo
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Ok, so I love how this movie opens especially as an old school fan.
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It’s perfect. I love the solid feeling of ‘finality’ to the series that we never got to see in Tri... (I’ll try not talk shit about Tri in this recap but it’s gonna be difficult, I’m sorry)
- We got that call back to the original soundtrack! The only time in life I will tear up at hearing Bolero.
- I adoreee the animation and designs in this movie. It feels so much more diverse (in terms of facial features) than Tri did without even trying really. The facial expressions are so much characteristic and there’s less awkward spacey moments. It’s nice! (Ooops, mentioned Tri: Count 2 haha)
- While I was a bit disappointed with the digidestined outfits when they were first released as still images, they do look a lot better in action and they fit in well with the world that is built. But Taichi swapping sneakers for sandals? Seems false lol
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Taichi’s anxiety about the destruction. Nice to see continuation and character development. We love him~~~
- The Parrotmon vs Greymon + Angemon + Angewomon fight looked dope and was a nice call back/development. The electricity and fire looked amazing and honestly had me hyped. A lot of fight scenes in this movie did.
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Haha, of course Yamato had to come in looking unnecessarily cool on his fancy new bike only to talk shit about Taichi. We love him too, goddammit lol
- It totally makes sense that the two pairs of siblings and Koushirou would be the most actively involved out of all of the digidestined tbh
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The movie opening theme being set to the original ‘Butterfly’ was great, and in a weird way reminded me a little of the Cowboy Bebop Movie opening theme - except very much in the style and world of Digimon Adventure
- The digidestined are public superheroes now? Makes sense, I don’t hate it~~~
- I love the montage of Taichi and Yamato going about their lives as people in their early 20s. Taichi mostly dealing with the pressures of adulthood. Yamato feeling nostalgic about the things he left behind in childhood (playing harmonica, being in a band)
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Ahhh, they can drink now! So weird, yet so fun haha
- It’s also really nice for my shipper heart to see Taichi and Yamato sit down and have a meal together without totally biting each other’s heads off. Shows how much they’ve matured!
- Yolei straight up was like ‘I don’t have time for this shit, Koushirou you deal with it’ 😂Mimi has taught you well, young padawan
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I was really hoping these two would be a better addition than Maki and Daigo (RIP) and they were! It’s almost like the writers saw Tri and was like... let’s do better. (Ooops mentioned Tri: Count 3)
- I reallyyyyy really sadistically like the concept of the Digimon and Digidestined’s connection to each other dying slowly the older they get and with the less necessary the Digimon become in the human partner’s life. Yeahhhhh, it doesn’t match up with the 02 ending but I’m personally not too attached to that ending so I don’t mind. A) it’s actually a plot point that makes me give a shit and B) it’s very much a reflection of life which Digimon Adventure has always been and C) it makes sense of the reason as to why Digimon gravitate to children
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DAISUKE! We stan a kinggg, with his dope sunglasses. I’m so happy the 02 kids are involved in this, even if it is kinda minimal.
- I love that they included the fact that the digital gates are basically like a free airplane ticket to anywhere in the world with a computer. It’s such a useful and cool concept
- ‘Burger Queen’ ahaha
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AHHHHHHHHH HAHAAHHAHA I can’t. It feel so wrong yet so... correct? Hahaha
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I’m sorry, my love for Gennai died with Tri. If it was old Gennai from Adventure maybe I would’ve felt a bit more nostalgic and loving. (Oops mentioned Tri: Count 4)
- I love the 02 kids basically being a smaller detective team that Chief Detective Yamato sent forth to do some investigating. It makes so much sense and we shoulda got this in triiiiii (I just wish we got this movie instead of Tri, I’m sorry Oops mentioned Tri: Count 5)
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Spy movie? I don’t hate it~~~~
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OK, DETECTIVE ISHIDA! (enter theme music which is most likely very dark and edgy and gothic with a hint of pop punk)
- Sora staying at home when Mimi is in the hospital seems... off... very off... but ok... ... ... I hate how they sidelined Sora in this movie. Why does every Digimon writer since Adventure hate Sora?!?!
- The act of Taichi literally shunning his future by switching off his phone to once again reach for his old goggles and old digivice is... poetic cinema
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Saw the switch coming but whoa 😳
- You know the whole concept of her creating an eternal Digital world was a cool concept until she called it Neverland
- While I really like Menoa and her being the villain, this isn’t exactly a new motivation. How many times have we seen human partners turn into villains after losing their Digimon, man?!?! Just more motivation into making me think this film is just fixing the mistakes of Tri (Oops mentioned Tri: Count 6)
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I really like this design! It might make my top 3 Digimon designs.
- You know... only in the Digimon fandom would a goddamn whistle make us all emotional 😭😂
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This movie is so pretty!!!!
- Wait... did Biyomon vanish and that’s why Sora wasn’t involved? 😢
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Wow. WOW. That goodbye... between Taichi and Agumon... and Yamato and Gabumon... was... ALL I WANTED/DIDN’T WANT. Seriously. As I said before, I really like the fact that this movie feels... final. Honestly, I don’t want grown up adventures with the Digimon - regardless of how mean that sounds. What’s unique about Digimon is how childlike it is and the separation between the Digimon’s childlike nature and the Digidestined was growing the older the humans got and it wouldn’t make full sense for the relationship between the two to go from friends and almost equals to parent and child. 
I guess I would’ve been more accepting of the Digimon staying a constant in the Digidestined lives if the writers touched on the theme of the Digimon being adult or baby whenever they like (or whenever they eat) and relating it to humans still looking after their inner child of curiosity and creativity as they get older. But that’s a pretty difficult concept, I’m still working my head around that haha
Also, Digimon has always specifically been a metaphor/real example for the joys and hardships of childhood. While it’s super sad, I’m glad we got such a nice send off!
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melvillaa · 3 years
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An Ode to 2020
Not really sure why I’m awake right now. If this was pre-marriage, I would have taken out my laptop to start typing, but it’s not and Bri is knocked tf out, so here we are. I guess this is the ode to 2020 post that I’ve been meaning to annotate for a while now.
This has been the most transformative year of my life. So many changes in more ways than one. Way more ways. Try like 20. A lot of crying (which I never do.... or maybe i just don’t admit to, lmao), a lot of introspection, a lot of uncomfortability (is that a word?), and a lot of change. A whole lot.
The year started off with optimism and ended with the same notion. Full of hope and wonder for the year set before me, I couldn’t wait for 2020 - it was supposed to be the year all my dreams came true.. and in a weird way, it was! It was the year I got married to the love of my life(!!!!!!), reached 5 years at my corporate job, relocated to a new home in a new city and area code. It was all that - but it wouldn’t be my life if it wasn’t that, plus a little pizzazz, lol.
It’s hard for me to give myself grace. Truly I think I am the hardest on myself. Always empathetic of others and their experiences, but always giving myself the short end of the stick. Living in a pandemic has been wild - but living through my huge life changes in the middle of a pandemic has proven to be even more wild. As a person who doesn’t necessarily love change, I’ve struggled to give myself grace in the midst of the huge life changes I’ve experienced. I’m damn proud of how far I’ve come and how strong I’ve been to withstand the trials that I battle without me really saying a word to a single soul. As a person, me typing this stuff out is me telling the world my story - even if no one reads it. This year changed my life.
Marriage.
I became a wife and entered the covenant of marriage. It really is true that you enter into a marital bliss that is full of love you don’t experience until you get married. It’s unlocking a next level of your relationship and discovering a new version of yourself ... yourself plus another human. There really are different levels of love that you are surprised to find out that you are capable of. It’s different than just being in a relationship with one another. Now we’re bound to each other under a different covenant - before the eyes of God, our family, our friends and the law. It’s weird filling out paperwork and realizing that legally I am no longer a Villaflor. Well technically I’ll always be a Villaflor (Melanie Rose Villaflor Argamaso to be exact, okurrrttttt). I stepped into this role of being a wife and all the “responsibilities” that came with it and also fully embraced the fact that I have a person to do life with who loves me more than himself, who is always thinking of me, always taking care of me, always looking out for me, and who genuinely takes responsibility for me. It’s weird. It’s things I knew of during our relationship, but in marriage it’s somehow personified.. magnified. Marriage is so cool. Maybe it’s cool for me because there’s been such an emphasis and importance placed on it ever since I was a little girl. Bri and I didn’t have the “modern relationship” where we lived together prior to marriage. Yea we slept over and had our own respective places, but to really enter into marriage where everyday it’s me and you, and we have a whole ass home and life together is really wild. I love it. Doing life with Bri is me truly seeing that this man really would give me the world if I asked for it. Anything I could ever want or need, he fulfills it. Everyone always asks me what I’ve learned about him since we got married, or what’s something new about Bri that I’ve discovered ... one thing is that this man and his hobbies are unmatched, bro loves him some cars, any moving vehicle really, lmao. But mostly, I see his heart. He always wants the best - for me and for himself and anyone he cares about, sometimes to a fault when he can’t attain perfection but so badly wants to achieve it. But most times he can .. and then some. I’ve never met someone so naturally good at so many things. Tactically advanced, street smart as hell, a risk taker with the ability to fix just about anything, a people person with an infectious personality who could probably resell a piece of lint if he had to. We’re a family now. A little family of two but we’re both at a place where we really wouldn’t mind unlocking another level of love if it were time to. (He asks me for a “grey” from @greyandmama on IG almost weekly 🥺🥴😂).
Wedding.
It seemed like I waited so, so long for our wedding - for it to come and go like the wind. But instead of a nice sea breeze, it came and went like a tropical storm (... literally 😂but more on that later!) I remember being so excited on New Years Day at the start of 2020 ... the anticipation of our wedding in the next five months and really the start of all of our wedding festivities would begin within the next month ... or so I thought.
I remember hearing about the coronavirus making landfall in the US around the holidays in 2019 and it was already steadily spreading across the US, but not quite as widespread as it currently is. I was going on a work trip to Florida towards the end of January and I remember wearing a mask in the airport and on the flight and I conducted my usual Lysol-ing of my entire space. Everyone was looking at me like I was insane but I really didn’t care, haha. A flight attendant asked me why I was wearing a mask and I replied that I just wanted to stay healthy for my family. (...Still true, lol.) I had no idea at this moment how significantly the coronavirus was going to disrupt our world, how normal mask wearing would be, and how disinfectant wipes would soon be the most prized commodity in 21st century homes. 
February came like a rush - I started designing our wedding invitation suite which was something I had literally dreamed about. I had a vision from the very beginning and new exactly how I wanted everything to look down to the postage stamp. It reinforced a love for stationery design that I knew I had, but damn was I proud of the finished product. I was so meticulous about everything - from the fonts I used, the colors and hues of the paper, the thickness of the paper, the envelopes, the ink I used. It was so intricate, but it was the most fun I ever had while designing something. It didn’t feel like work at all, but it was pure love that I poured into those invitations. Bri’s bachelor party happened in early March and my bachelorette in Chicago (!!!) was supposed to happen at the end of March. The boys went to Jacksonville, Florida and were able to stay with Bri’s old roommate, Ace in his beautiful home. Coronavirus cases were on the upswing, especially in Florida and Atlanta. I was so freaked out. N95′s were no where to be found, but since Bri is a painter, he was able to score some through work. He wore one on the flight and literally got light headed due to lack of oxygen, lol. He had the time of his life in Florida while I poured my whole self into our invitations, lol. And as soon as the boys got back, the US started to shut down. 
Everyone began to work from home and businesses started closing up shop. Star couldn’t make it to my bachelorette, so she schemed her way into getting me to pole dance with all the girls, hahaha. It was literally the night before everything was supposed to shut down. No indoor dining or bars were going to be open at midnight the following Monday, so I was super thankful that I was able to have a mini bachelorette experience in our own little backyard.  
It was an anomaly to fly anywhere and airports became ghost towns. Each day we got a little closer to my bachelorette and myself and the girls were so excited. Itineraries were made, bickering ensued, flights were purchased, I bought outfits for every outing (... so much white, lol) Literally the only thing left for us to do was to actually fly to Chicago. Probably a week to a week and a half before we were supposed to fly out, Chicago issued a stay at home order and everything shut down. We had to make the difficult decision to cancel my bachelorette trip to Chicago and try to rebound and think of a plan B. The girls were so gracious. I’m so thankful for all the work they put in to try and make things work out for me. We tried to do a weekend trip to Ashville, NC but everything was so risky and there was so much unknown at this point. Covid mandates varied from state to state and things were quite literally changing by the day, the hour even. It just didn’t work out. Till this day I’m sad that I didn’t get to have the full bachelorette experience, but I’m still so, so thankfulI for my friends and the work that they put in to make everything feel as normal as possible. 
Home.
Careers.
Relationships.
Ok I’ll reflect on these things later. I’m sleepy, lol.
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dreamingsushi · 4 years
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Eternal Love of Dream - Episode 28
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So, back to the story here we are. Since lately I have mostly been binge watching, I just kept on posting on each episode separately, but still as one big piece in the end since I just continue on with what’s happening. So let me talk a little bit more about what I think about this series so far. It’s getting better. It’s definitely not perfect and I am still grieving for Ye Qingti because I don’t know, I have such a crush on this character, but I still find pleasure in watching. More actually than in the previous arc. The mortal realm part was pretty boring, nothing really happened except that Fengjiu got hurt again and again, fell more in love with Donghua even though Xuanren and Donghua are actually two rather different people. Good think about is that she became more mature and that makes her less annoyingly childish in the following episodes. I really enjoy the fact that even though she still greatly admires Donghua and likes him very much, she is less stubborn about her feelings and doesn’t try at all cost to stay near Donghua. That’s really enjoyable for me. Plus, the more we get to see of Donghua, the more interesting he is. In my opinion. I can’t help but to compare with ten miles of peach blossom, but this Donghua is actually relatable. He has lived such a long time, done so many great accomplishments that he’s most of the time  little bored and gets pleasure from teasing people. He feels less distant and actually a little bit more human. So far I can’t say that I strongly ship the two of them, but I can see how they can be a match. I am beginning to get a little more curious about how things will develop in the future.
So back to business, Chong Lin is wondering why Donghua is so concerned about where was sent Yan Chiwu and he says that it’s because he sent him to the Fanyin grotto and lost a handkerchief in the process. Then, he’s posing at the door. And I am just thinking that Fengjiu isn’t there to see it, thus you don’t need to try and be so elegant. But oh well, who doesn’t like a handsome man looking poetically in the distance? Plus I must say, the design of the palace is really beautiful. They did a really good job about that.
Yan Chiwu is convincing Fengjiu that Donghua is in love with Jiheng haha. I love this character, honestly. He’s so infatuated with Ji Heng that he finds so easily explanations to how Donghua is so attracted by the demon princess. Fengjiu says he didn’t want to give Ji Heng his spiritual fox to raise and Chiwu is like “of course that would be so Ji Heng would go to his palace to see the spiritual fox”. Donghua isn’t a guy like that, I think that if he liked someone he would be the kind to actually just take that person by his side, I can’t really picture him scheming something like this. Well, he likes making fun of people and would probably set that kind of traps on Lian Song and Siming, but the purpose is really different. Chiwu wonders why did Donghua liked that little fox so much and a very sad Fengjiu suggests that they get out of there instead of keep on babbling on.
In the clouds, Fengjiu didn’t notice she was close to a cliff and feel down. Seeing a lady in danger, Chiwu also jumps to go and save her. They end up falling on top of the second prince of the Biyi Bird clan. Woops. So they get sent to jail and it seems also that Qingqiu and the Biyi Bird clan doesn’t have a very good relationship.
Well, everything ends up nicely, the second prince lied to protect them. Then... Chiwu notices that there is a girl looking exactly like Ji Heng sitting in the corner. What is she doing there? Anyways, prince lied that they came to study and thus the queen arranges everything for them. The prince says he’ll take them but Chiwu can’t take his eyes off Ji Heng. Poor him.
So they will be stuck in there for at least 60 years. The grotto only opens like once in a while to protect the Biyi bird tribe. To forcefully get out, you would need like 3000 years of cultivating. So even though Fengjiu tries to get out, she’s really not able to. Of course, she has to end in second prince Xiangli Meng room while he’s taking a bath hahaha.
Fengjiu dreams that Ahli comes to get her, but in the end doesn’t manage to do it. She wakes up screaming.
Everyday, they they class and Fengjiu thinks the teacher isn’t fitted to teach and even angers him. Since he left, Chiwu takes the opportunity to go and see Ji Heng. However, she won’t acknowledge him at all and he plays a trick on her, which reminds them of the first time they met. She tries to drive him away, but he won’t, if she wants to stay there as a music teacher, then he’ll just stay too to protect her.
Xiangli Meng asks Fengjiu if she will register for the competition and she’s like, what competition? So they are holding a competition every ten years and this year the price is Pinpo Fruit, the exact fruit she needs to make an immortal body for Qingti. But she has to manage to convince the teacher to let her participate.
Donghua goes to the Fanyin grotto to teach. And Chong Lin feels it’s weird that Donghua wouldn’t bring him.
Jie Lu, Xiangli Meng’s cousin is planning a trap for the new teacher coming, because she doesn’t want a new one and wants the one she likes to come back again. Because of what he said, Xiangli Meng made her cry and to comfort her, he asks Fengjiu’s help to  make the plan better.
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Did Napoleon always hide his emotions? I've read your answer on about how he would act calm then break down in private. But I also read that sometimes he would be rly angry in front of people and also that time when Lannes died he also cried? Is it like sometimes he'd only show his emotions when he can't hold it back anymore but he'e still trying his best to hide it? It's interesting for me and I'm just really curious. (Ps thanks for this amazing blog and sorry for my bad english)
I mean - WHO KNOWS. Hahaha, this is just my interpretation of him. 
I would say that Napoleon was a calculating individual and a lot of his tempers and rages, the one’s where he’d go off in public on Talleyrand (shit in a silk stocking) or whoever, were for show. Not all, of course, but some if not most. 
I think Napoleon viewed certain emotions as acceptable to be seen in public (anger/frustration/impatience etc.) and others not acceptable (grief/”emotional weakness”/vulnerability). His grief over the death of Lannes and Duroc, which was very public, was born out of exactly what you say: he can’t hold it in. 
The accounts we have of him publicly weeping, openly grieving and being very emotional are generally around extreme moments: death of friends he loved, after battles, the birth of his son - that sort of thing. 
“I was … leaning against a wall when Napoleon passed close to me. The Emperor was making every effort to avoid the hooves of his horse treading on human remains. Not being able to cross the field, he abandoned the attempt and it was then I saw him cry.” – Vélite Billon
Napoleon was a child of the enlightenment, of rational thought and Reason over Emotion. Therefore, he prioritized and idealized being seen as a rational, reasonable man over an emotional, open and vulnerable one. Tying into this, of course, is his desire to be seen as the most imperial of Emperors. Due to his perceived illegitimacy he felt he had to be the most perfect Emperor to ever Empire. He had to be the marble of Rome.
Part and parcel with worrying about being seen as illegitimate, Napoleon had some deep insecurities (especially around performing Gentlemanliness and Civility in the 18th c understanding of it. Napoleon was doing class drag, he struggled at times) and so attempted to make up for it by being untouchable. You can’t mock someone if they give you nothing to mock them about. 
Many of his actions were designed to convey a certain image and so his public face should be understood and interpreted as that: a public face. 
(Indeed, Josephine speaks of the difference between Napoleon and Bonaparte. How she wished more people knew Bonaparte as he was the better man between the two.)
I hope this helps! Always happy to chat Napoleon’s many emotions and how he tried to put them in a box and bury them under the floor boards BUT THEY KEPT COMING BACK. 
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The Feels Awaken Part 1: Return of the Memori
Written by @jkl-fff, illustrated by me
PART I (you are here)  - PART II
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The lone wolf sat and watched, and that was an excellent development; the creature was learning to wait patiently, even though it was a wild, apex predator and doubtlessly could have ripped the dead squirrel from the hands of a teenage boy with ease (under normal circumstances, at least). Of course, since Bill was only wearing the clone of a teenage boy, he probably had an advantage in training the lone wolf. It could sense him—the real him—inside the clonesuit, and therefore was wary of making any aggressive moves … Animals always were around Demons, unlike most humans. Another instance when instinct trumped intellect …
So, instead, the lone wolf sat and watched patiently while Bill swung the dead squirrel around by its tail. Sat and waited for Bill’s conversational monologue to end.
“You’re prob’ly wondering why I haven’t eaten your soul like I did Chatterface McBurymynuts right here. And why I’ve taken to feeding you the soulless carcasses of my victims in person instead of just leaving them out for you. Well, I got three reasons. One: I like your aesthetic; you’re nearly all triangles in shape—really angular all over your body—and I really dig that. You’re relatably triangular, and I wanna see more of that in the world. Two: you’re endangered; if I let you live, there will be more wolves (so more angular creatures) in the world … and also more werewolves, which would be weird and awesome. And three …” Here, with a grin, Bill tossed the dead squirrel high and watched as the lone wolf snatched it out of the air. “Yeah, that’s right, wolf it down—heh heh! The third reason is, I’m gonna partially domesticate you and train you to pull me around in a sweet-ass chariot! Doesn’t that sound rad?!”
Having swallowed the last of the squirrel, the lone wolf turned and padded away into the woods.
“Don’t worry, we’ll talk more about how awesome my idea is later!” Bill called after him. “Just think a bit about what a fair exchange it would be! Actually, it’s a great deal for you! Tasty treats just for letting me occasionally ride you into battle like a chaotic, Norse deity! We can workshop ideas about the chariot’s design next time!”
On a nearby branch, a bird chirped.
“No, I think the wolf’s gonna seriously consider my offer,” Bill replied optimistically. “This is all just part of the deal-making game, which you’d understand if you weren’t a dumbass robin.”
The bird chirped again, then flew away.
“… Welp, that killed some time. Guess I’d better go back to the Shack and find some other activity to pass away the seemingly endless seconds until I get to skyelp with my Dipper …”
While he was tromping back through the woods, however, Bill was distracted by an unusual, yet strangely familiar sound. Juddering and throaty, then sharp and quick, then juddering and throaty again. Repetitive, too, though intermingled with a soft noise almost like keening or … no, exactly like whimpering. Then it clicked for Bill, even though he hadn’t heard that sound in over thirty years. It was the sound of a grown man sobbing. And not just any man, either, but Ford.
Softly, Bill crept towards him, eventually looking through bushes to the stump of a felled tree. Ford sat on it, hunched over and alone, crying as though he couldn’t hold back his own tears … as though he were too weary to hold them back anymore … That was probably why he’d come all the way out here in the woods, Bill suspected, where no one could see his moment of emotional vulnerability. Or so he had believed, at any rate, not knowing Bill was out here …
On Ford’s lap was an open book with brightly—even garishly—colored pages. One of the many scrapbooks Mabel had made. In between bouts of sobs, he slowly turned the pages and murmured things like, “Can’t believe she came b-back with a whole handful of it … So t-tough, even though always so sweet …” and “Terrified, but he f-faced it down anyway … for me … And I was s-so … so proud …” and “Heh! That f-fashion show she put together for Pacifica, made us all t-take part in … Can’t remember when I laughed so h-hard …” and “Oh, here’s that Jack o’Mellon he carved like the Gremloblin … from m-memory … So t-talented … And then they went trick-or-treating together both as the protagonist from that one game series—Myth of Hilda, or something like that?—Moses, it was adorable …” to himself. With each turn of a page, he was reminiscing about something different from the past summers: family game nights, hikes and fishing, short roadtrips, and on and on and on … Ford himself summed it up succinctly when he finally closed the scrapbook, buried his face in his hands, and whimpered, “Damn, I m-miss those kids!”
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For a moment, a spark of bitter satisfaction flared up in Bill (“Good. Let that asshole suffer.”). And yet, it was soon doused by empathetic pity and sorrow (“I feel the same, though—we all feel the same … We all miss those kids …”). Then came a splash of feeling surprised, because of all the pity and sorrow; they were still such strange emotions for him as to be almost foreign. Following that, a bit of meta-emotional introspection at realizing he was feeling about feelings. Fortunately, before Bill could become too confused and horrified by the idea that he had become so human as to have feelings about having feelings, Ford stood and slowly trudged back home. After a safe amount of time had elapsed, Bill did the same.
Inside the Shack, sitting on the card table in the living room, was the scrapbook (no doubt left there by Ford on his way down to his lab). Along with several more of them. Picking up the most recent one, Bill began to flip slowly through its colorful pages filled with photos, stickers, notes, and miscellaneous memorabilia.
And as he did, he began to flip slowly through his own memories …
****
Terrified screams as he burst forth from his prison of a stone statue, rose up over them out of his shell (“Did you miss me? Admit it, you missed me!”), and tried to … tried to …
Bill shuddered to think of what he had almost done—what he surely would have done, if he had had enough power at the time. “Thank all the Gods that ever were or will be that that failed …” he muttered to himself.
Making little overtures of friendship—or at least not-malice—to Mabel until he got her to listen to his spiel about wanting to understand how he lost to them and to change and blah blah blah. Ford’s utter disbelief that the others could be so easily suckered. Entering a clone that first time and devouring that delicious little bit of soul in it (“Yum! Tastes just like mangoes and fear!”).
“They shouldn’t have. Ford was right that I was plotting their doom back then … Not anymore, but they all took a huge and stupid gamble, and just happened to get lucky … We all did …”
Steel slicing through paper and ink, dumping the scraps of bodies left, right, and center and relishing the screams of surprise (“Hehehehehe! What, you didn’t like my joke? You wanna … piece of me? Hahaha! Well, take your pick, there are plenty of pieces of me there on the floor!”). Sharpening his teeth to fine points to chomp at people. Gouging out his own eye. So much edge and shock at play, cold and hot at the same time, hilarious ticklings of pain.
“Such a waste of clonesuits,” Bill sighed. “And … all for the sake of just shocking them? Taking advantage of their love of Dipper? Stupid—can’t believe I thought that was funny at the time … So much time wasted during those first few weeks of the summer. Don’t wanna remember that, not anymore … wanna remember something else, something happier …”
Jokes so bad they made everyone groan, which made everyone laugh. Fireworks made of lasers. Taking part in an impromptu fashion show for the newest line of summer sweaters. Watermelons carved into jolly grotesqueries, lit with candles, and eventually tossed from the roof to splat. Making muffins with apple and cinnamon. Uncontrollable laughter at a rock shaped like a dong and after arcs of water accidentally melted another clonesuit. Wonderous eyes aglow with uncontainable excitement and the soft light of an everadiant crystal. Warmth of a shared blanket and the fun betrayal of an ambush of tickling underneath them. Kisses snuck around corners, behind doors, within shadows, inside the safety of a Nice Place.
“Heh …” Bill couldn’t help but smile to himself. “Even when I start out with all the others, too, it always comes back to him … But maybe I should focus more, not just look at the flashes and snapshots of memory? Delve in deeper to some memories? After all, what’s the point of perfect recall if I hardly ever use it? But, um …” Looking around the currently empty (though perhaps not for long) living room, he closed the scrapbooks and stood up. “Maybe up in the attic, where there’s a little more privacy …”
****
It was one specific memory that detoured his chain of thoughts, as memories tend to do.
Dipper. Sitting on a couch with Ford standing behind him, reaching over the couch to him. Flushed with simple happiness as Ford tousled his hair and praised his monster hunting work from that day. “Good boy, m’work! Er, I mean, good work, m’boy!” he had said, making Dipper smile so big and bright that the room had practically glowed with it. Bill’s insides certainly had.
Déjà vu, though, he had felt it then, too, remembering it. Almost exactly déjà vu … So Bill decided to follow the tangential thread of it now.
A young Ford, seventeen or eighteen, maybe—not yet out of high school. Sitting on the couch of his childhood home. A young Stan standing behind him, reaching over the couch to him.
“Oh, yeah … That’s why it’s so familiar; I watched it in Sixer’s memory and then more or less reenacted it for him. With him. Whatever, twice. Back when we were still working together, back when we were still friends …”
A young Ford flushed with simple happiness as Stan tousled his hair and praised his shipbuilding from that day. “You’re such a good cabin boy! Good work, me ol’ cabin boy!” he had said, making Ford smile so big and bright that—here the déjà vu ended and became simple memory— (“Pff! Why am I the cabin boy?” “Duh. ‘cause I’m the captain!” “Why do you get to be captain?” “Heh. ‘cause I can do this!”) Stan had swung over the top of the couch to drape himself across Ford. Pinning Ford down, while both brothers trashtalked and giggled and squirmed … and then gradually began to kiss …
“Was this the first time Sixer and me …? Ha! Yeah, it totally was! The very first time I set Sixer’s mindscape stage and played a part for him to work out some of his many, many issues. First of many … How’d it go, anyway? How’d we even get to this point? Need to rewind …”
Bill blinked, and the scene formed. Ford’s mindscape as it once had been: an endless field of strange but beautiful flower blossoms stretched to the horizon in every direction, with gleaming structures like the lovechildren of marble-cut temples and glass-and-steel skyscrapers rising in the distance-yet-closeness-of-thought like the aspirations of some new deity of science-fiction-becoming-science-fact, bold and untainted by the conformist conventions of old; swirling slowly overhead, so close one could have climbed up and touched, was a vault of stars, galaxies, quasars far larger than they appeared from earth and blazing so brightly that the field below them was as illuminated as a comfortable reading room; stairways made of books and journals ascended high to viewing platforms made of solid theories, equations, and blueprints all like shining neon signs.
Bill blinked again, and he saw himself chattering away about whatever had been their project. There was Ford, a late-twenties man and cutting-edge weirdologist in a weatherworn trenchcoat. Unusually subdued that day, though … Normally nigh manic with energy and enthusiasm, overflowing with ideas and theories and observations and cornball jokes to contribute to or even to drive the conversation … but not that day … No, that day, he barely listened to Bill or looked at the images and organizing visual aids Bill had mentally conjured for their brainstorm together. And when Bill turned to see why, he found Ford’s back was to him as he gazed away out across a sentimentally altered portion of the mindscape: salty sand strewn with bits of trash at the edge of a turbulent sea, all under clouds that were dusky and dusty from reflecting the dying daylight, and a sailboat at the center of Ford’s attention and therefore of his mind … listing and sinking into dark waters, the name on the prow all but lost to the waves—“Stan o’ War” now just “Stan”.
Bill watched the rest of what had happened as one might watch oneself on camera.
“Oh boy … I smell emotional issues …” he muttered before floating up beside Ford’s shoulder. “Got something on your mind, Fordsy ol’ buddy? Besides me, that is.”
“S-sorry, I just, um, got distracted,” Ford stammered apologetically. “I’ll try harder to focus. Won’t happen aga—”
“Because of your brother? It’s the anniversary of the day he got kicked out of the family, right?”
Ford gaped in shock for a moment. “… You … You know about that? But how?”
“For one thing, all the trash ‘round here is crumpled or torn up calendar pages for the same date. For another, I’m your Muse,” Bill replied, as though it should have been obvious. “I’m literally inside your head with all your memories at my fingertips, looking for anything I can use to help inspire your success.”
Blanching white, Ford asked, “All of them? You can s-see … all my memories?”
“Yep times a thousand! So I know you and your brother were—heh—close before that incident.”
Ford blushed.
“So no wonder you get distracted thinking about him today. Wasn’t that the last time you ever saw him?” Bill continued conversationally.
“Um, I … Maybe I m-might’ve seen him once after that. During my college graduation, but … Don’t know, honestly,” Ford admitted sadly. “Might’ve just imagined him being in the crowd.”
“Wishful thinking? ‘cause you got some stuff to get out of your system with him?” Bill waggled his eyebrow, making Ford blush a second time. Before he could respond, though, Bill suggested, “Y’know, I could help you unpack some of that emotional baggage you’re lugging around. Which’d help us get back to productive work sooner—get you from distracted back to tracted.”
“First of all, that’s not a word—”
“It is now that I’ve used it! Tracted, adjective, the state of being that comes after one has been distracted but is focusing once again.”
“Second of all … How could you help with that?”
“Why, with a little bit of roleplay. I know how much you love to roleplay, Fordsy ol’ pal.”
“I don’t know …” Ford said uncertainly. “This isn’t exactly a D&D&MoreD campaign. Besides, this is hardly an appropriate setting, and … well, no offense, but your voice and mannerisms aren’t exactly reminiscent of Stan (or most humans, for that matter). I doubt I could get into it.”
“Heh. You’re just saying that ‘cause you ain’t never seen what a good actor I can be. Goes with the territory of being a MASTER OF THE MIND! Watch this!” Bill clapped once, then suddenly multiplied into a dozen more Bills.
“Whoa! What the—”
From nowhere, the original Bill pulled a megaphone, a chair with the words “Director” and “Leading … Well, Not ‘Man’ Per Se, But Close Enough” on its back, and a thick script. “OKAY, YOU SUPER SNAZZY STAGECREW,” he projected through the megaphone. “LET’S GET THIS STAGE CLEARED AND READY FOR A NEW SCENE! LET’S MOVE! AND SOMEONE GET ME A TWO-CREAMS-ONE-SUGAR COFFEE AND A MAPLE LOG! What about you, Fordsy? You want anything? Same thing, yeah? DOUBLE THAT ORDER! ONE FOR ME, ONE FOR MY COSTAR!”
Slack jawed at all the activity flurrying around him—one Bill pulled a rope from nowhere, causing the seascape (while waves continued to toss, clouds continued to billow, and the ship continued to sink) to part down the middle like a theater curtain and swish away; another Bill pulled a massive pushbroom from nowhere and cleared away all of the beach (sand, trash, and salty odor) to leave a hardwood platform beneath; several other Bills were now wheeling away the endless fields of flowers that stretched to the horizon (plus the phantasmagorical buildings standing among them) like scenery backdrops painted on squeaky canvas frames—Ford could only mumble, “Costar?”
“Well, duh, Fordsy ol’ chum. We’ll be centerstage, you and me, and in the spotlight together—me as Stanly, you as yourself. If that doesn’t make us costars, I don’t know what does!”
“BOOOOOO!” another Bill shouted from behind them, seated in a newly revealed spectator section with boxes of popcorn. “Directors shouldn’t play parts in their own productions! That’s a crass and masturbatory act of egotism that invariably cheapens the production! BOOOOOO!”
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“Just ignore heckling critic me,” the original Bill told Ford. “Now, speaking of the spotlight … LET’S GET THE LIGHTING AND SOUNDCHECKS DONE, MES! TIME IS MONEY! AND WHERE’S OUR COFFEE AND DONUTS ALREADY?! WHAT AM I PAING YOU FOR?!”
Yet another Bill came trundling up with a long rack of costumes that looked exactly like the contents of Ford and Stan’s old bedroom closet. While going through them, he pointed out, “You’re not paying us for anything, babygorgeous, because we don’t actually exist. We’re just visual constructs you conjured to represent the complex yet entirely abstract process of manipulating a mindscape into a specific scenario Stanford can experience (or reexperience in the case of actual memories) so it feels to him as if it was entirely real. This whole setting is, too. Also because you’re extremely melodramatic, overly theatrical, and crave being the center of someone’s awed attention, sugardumpling.”
“One more smart-alecky remark like that, and you’re fired!” the original Bill snapped.
“No! Please, angelpie, I need this job! I need the money, or they’re gonna break my legs!”
“Fine. Just go get the makeup equipment already. AND WHERE ARE WE ON THE LIGHTS?!”
Ford looked up to see a span of catwalks and electrical equipment overhead. The Bill up there gave a thumbs up. “Good to go, boss! Same with sound, too!”
A new Bill came running up with a platter. “Here’s your coffee and donuts, sir!”
“Freakin’ finally!” the original Bill exclaimed, passing over one of each to Ford before snatching the others for himself. “I’d have you dragged into the alley behind this soundstage and shot for taking so long, except we’re not actually in a soundstage and you’re just too darn cute to kill.”
“Oh, sir, you’re gonna make me blush!”
Taking a bite out of his maple log with his eyelid, the original Bill snapped, “Stop being so cute and go find something useful to do.” Then, turning back to Ford, he continued lightly, “Yep, costars, you and me! Collaborators! Partners in … What? There something on my face?”
With a gulp, Ford asked, “Is … Is that how you eat? With your eye?”
Bill smiled despite not having a mouth. “Only when I’m in polite company.” Then he took a sip of his coffee—a long, slow sip while looking right at his weirdologist friend (who spazzed reflexively at the sight of coffee washing into sclera). “But now that mes have cleared the stage, we should really pick the scene we’re gonna roleplay. So what you wanna do, Fordsy ol’ mate? Relive a memory, act out a hypothetical conversation/argument to get some words off your chest, or experience a fantasy in real-body-stimulating intensity? Whatever you want, I can do for ya.”
“I, um …” Shaking his head, Ford admitted, “There’s just … so much. When I think about him. About everything that happened then. And before. And after. And I … I just … can’t process it enough to … y’know, make sense of how I feel about it all? Gah! Can you understand that, Bill? The only thing I know for sure right now is … is I miss him … even if I don’t know what I’d do if I saw him right now …”
Bill blinked a bite off his maple log, then chewed thoughtfully, ignoring the other Bills (“Hey, guys, wanna see something funny? MacBeth!” “Don’t say that! It’s bad lu—” A sandbag smashed into that Bill from above. “Hehehehehehe! I got more!” Then he whistled sharply. “Argh! You can’t do that either, it’s also bad lu—” A light fixture exploded, blasting the Bill on the catwalk off so that he kersplatted onto the platform. “Hahahahaha! How about this one? Good luck during the performance!” “No, you fool, you’ll kill us all if you say—” “Guys, you think this pyrotechnic equipment still works?” a different, oblivious Bill asked right before pushing a button. The bad luck would’ve been spectacular had anyone paid attention.) now milling about the visual construct of an empty stage which represented a mindscape ready for shaping. Eventually, he suggested, “Tell you what, Fordsy ol’ comrade, let me choose for you this time. I think I know what you need right now to feel better, and it’ll be an actual memory of a good time you two had together. Something … positive and fun and a little whacky to help you get out of this slump. Whaddya say? Trust me enough to follow my lead in the roleplay?”
A glum shrug. A passive affirmation. “Sure, why not?”
And then original Bill was broadcasting through his loudspeaker, “OKAY, LOOK ALIVE, TRIANGULAR TROOP! LET’S GET THE STAGE SET FOR SCENE #618: ‘CABIN BOY AND CAPTAIN NOBEARD, THE COUCH PIRATE’!”
Ford blinked. “Wait, what?”
“I WANT IT READY TO PERFORM IN—”
“BOOOOOO!” the spectating Bill suddenly shouted, spraying popcorn everywhere. “That choice is a cliché and uninspired piece of saccharine hackery! Also, it’s practically meta-theater, which always sucks because only self-inflating, pomposity-spewing fartbags think it’s clever to make plays that are ham-fistedly obvious metaphors for making plays! BOOOOOO!”
“So it’s perfect for our director,” one of the Bills stage whispered, making the others giggle.
“I HEARD THAT!” the original Bill snapped. “DON’T YOU HAVE PROPS TO SET UP?! ACTION IN FIVE, MES! AND WHERE’S THE ME FOR COSTUME AND MAKEUP?!”
“Right here, angeldoll! And ready to get Starford suited up!” That Bill wheeled a vanity piled high with brushes, pencils, and cosmetics right to them. He then pulled an outfit off the rack, scrutinized it, put it back, pulled out another, nodded his approval, and zoomed over to slap it onto Stanford’s body. Right before assaulting his face with a blur of all the cosmetic products—powder, rouge, eyeliner, etc. All of it happened so fast Stanford didn’t even have time to protest, and when the air cleared and he stopped coughing, that particular Bill was adjusting a mirror before his face. “What do you think, honeydear? Don’t you just look divine?”
Breathless with astonishment, Ford touched first the mirror’s surface … then his own face … “Incredible!” he breathed. “I look seventeen!”
“If I did my job right, teddypearl, you don’t just look seventeen. Your whole body (or astral form dream body, technically, sweetiedumpling) should be seventeen down to the smallest of details. Now, if you want, I could also do your nails and hair so you look even more divine than you did at seventeen, darlingpeaches.”
“Nope, we want his ratio of divineness to undivineness to be exactly as it was then, thank you,” the original Bill dictated abruptly. “Now let’s get me suited up for—oh, Azathoth’samygdala!” Snatching up the megaphone, he bawled, “TVS GO IN FRONT OF COUCHES, NOT BEHIND, YOU IDIOTS! AND YOU’VE GOT THE BACKDROPS MIXED UP! C’MON, YOU MES ARE SUPPOSED TO BE MORE PROFESSIONAL THAN THIS!”
Ford tore his eyes from the mirror and looked onstage. The living room of his parents’ house was being formed by a bunch of Bills pushing frames of painted canvas (reproductions of the walls) and setting up prop after prop (a couch, a rabbit-eared TV, old chairs, side tables with doilies, framed photos, knickknacks, bric-a-brac, that hideous lamp with the more hideous curtain shade he had always wanted to smash to bits, etc.); it looked exactly as he remembered … No, it looked more accurate than he remembered … He could even smell the dusty, musty carpeting and hear the tacky windchimes outside the window …
“There, treasurebear, you look ready for your big part. And divine, too! Simply divine!”
“Thanks, me. Looks like you won’t be fired today,” the original Bill decided.
“I can’t believe you could recreate the old place. Every little detail—” Ford turned to Bill, then felt his knees buckled beneath him; he had to grab onto a corner of the vanity not to fall over. Standing before him in a dissipating cloud of face powder was the seventeen-year-old version of his twin brother. “… St-Stan?”
Bill grinned with Stanly’s cocky, crooked grin. “Or close enough. Oh, sorry.” Clearing his throat, he then repeated in Stanly’s husky voice, “Or close enough. Right, Sixer?”
Stepping forward, Ford laid his hands on the shoulders of the boy in front of him. They felt real. Solid and strong through the t-shirt, with the kind of ropey muscles regular boxing gave a person. Same for the arms and the chest, although there was a little pudge on top of the muscles there (just like Stan had … or had had the last time Ford had seen him for certain) thanks to a nervous tendency to overeat … It all felt so real … so achingly real …
“Done feelin’ up the merchandise yet, Sixer?” Bill-Stan teased. “I could flex for ya, if ya want.”
“How … How are you doing this?” Ford whispered, his voice almost trembling.
As one, all of the Bills dropped what they were doing and turned to face him, then clapped and spread their hands. A rainbow spread between every set of palms. “THROUGH THE POWER OF IMAGINATION, FORDSY OL’ COMPADRE! AFTER ALL, I AM YOUR MUSE!”
Fingers clenching into the fabric of the t-shirt, throat constricting, Ford said, “Stan, I … I …”
“You’re not gonna start blubberin’ on me, are ya, Sixer?” Bill-Stan asked coaxingly. “Not before all the fun even starts?”
“N-no … No, I’m in c-control. Ahem! Of myself.” Ford composed himself, feigned brushing some dust off his clothes, then resumed, “So, um, you said something about following your lead in a roleplay?”
Grinning more widely than before, Bill-Stan took him by the hand (sending a jolt of long ignored and even half-forgotten emotions through the weirdologist) and led him onstage …
The thing about a person’s mindscape (or about a person’s dreams, since they’re the same thing, essentially) is they’re completely immersive. To the brain, they’re almost as real as reality itself; every ganglia involved in processing sensory input for the one is equally involved with the other. Which explains why dreams usually feel real enough that a person can forget they’re dreaming. Which explains why a true master of the mind can manipulate a person’s mindscape enough that, with just the right triggering image (such as walking through a conjured doorway or stepping onto a conjured theater stage), the person can believe what they’re experiencing is real, and even actually find traces of the mental experience on their physical body afterwards.
Especially if the person really wants to dream, to believe, to be manipulated by the master …
That was why Ford knew with certainty that he was sweaty and dirty after hours of working on the Stan o’ War, knew with certainty he was trudging into the living room of his family home, and collapsed onto what he knew with certainty was a sagging couch likely as old as he was (seventeen years). He also knew with certainty that he heard the jangling of the house phone in the hallway, and then the voice of who he knew with certainty was his twin brother answering it. That knowing certainty was manifest in every gesture he made; it even shone in his eyes.
A moment later, Stan was leaning over the top of the couch. Sweaty and dirty, too, since he’d been working on the Stan o’ War, too. “Heh. You look beat, Sixer. But if anyone’s got the right, it’s you. I mean, after all that hard work today? And figuring out the waterproofin’ stuff, too?” Then Stan reached over the couch and tousled his brother’s hair. “I guess what I’m saying is … You’re such a good cabin boy! Good work, me ol’ cabin boy!”
Ford beamed with pleasure at the praise and the loving gesture, yet still retorted (because having a brother means living in a perpetual argument, at the very least as a matter of principle), “Pff! Why am I the cabin boy?”
“Duh. ‘cause I’m the captain!”
“Why do you get to be captain?”
“Heh. ‘cause I can do this!” And then Stan swung himself over the top of the couch and dropped down onto his brother, draping himself over his brother like a heavy, sweaty, noogying blanket. “How do you like it, cabin boy? Huh? I said how do you like it, nerd? No, wait, cabin nerd!”
“Ghaha! Get off me—haha!—you’re gross from the beach!” Ford half-spewed and half-laughed beneath his twin. He was pinned against the cushions now, squirming but unable to get free.
“Heh heh! You don’t get to give the captain orders, cabin nerd! That’s not how it works aboard this ship!”
“W-we’re—hehehe!—not even on a ship!”
“Sure we are! The S.S. Couch, and I just boarded it! And you!”
“You did not have permission to come aboard!” Ford giggled, still squirming, now trying to push his twin back with his hands.
But Stan caught them both at the wrists and pinned them against the armrest, too, bearing down with his whole body. “That’s ‘cause I’m a pirate captain! Arrrrr, me matey!”
“Pff! W-what do they call you?! Nobeard?!”
“That’s ‘Captain Nobeard’ to you, cabin nerd! And I’m gonna be lootin’ yer booty!”
Ford threw his head back and laughed at so corny a line. But the laugh turned to a surprised gasp when he suddenly felt his brother (on an impulse) press his lips against Ford’s throat. It was like being hit by a single raindrop right before a spark of lightning—a single spot of warm, wet skin, then an electric jolt through his brain and body that left him rigid. Or perhaps made him realize he had been rigid already? And that his brother’s counter-squirming had taken on a decidedly grinding motion … Or had it been a grinding motion already? Ford moaned, “Aaah, St-Stan …”
“I told you, that’s ‘Captain’ to you, me ol’ cabin nerd,” Stan countered into his twin’s neck. “And I’m gonna shiver yer timber.” With that, he gave an extra hard grind, groin against groin.
“Mmmmoses! Oh … B-but, wait … What if … Dad and Mom walk in on us … like this?” 
“Heh. You can be pretty dumb for a nerd, sometimes,” Stan teased. “They went to Grandma’s today, remember? And that was them on the phone just now, callin’ to say they made it there. Even if they head home right now, it’ll be at least two hours afore they get back. So relax, okay? Just … follow my lead …”
“Y-yeah, I can … Wait.” All at once, Ford stopped, because that phrase … He suddenly didn’t know with certainty what was really going on here, nor where he really was, nor even how old he really was. Intently, he peered at the face of the boy on top of him. Was there a golden gleam in his irises, where there should only have been brown? A twinkle in the eyes, but different than the twinkle normally there. He thought he could remember who this boy actually was. “… Bill?”
Stan grinned. “Only if you’d prefer havin’ a triangle in a tophat grind against you instead of your brother.”
Ford looked around, and remembered he was on a stage. A stage that had been set by multiple copies of Bill, and that he was now pinned beneath the original Bill who was mimicking his twin down to his cornball double-entendres, the smell of his sweat … and the exact length and girth of his hardon, currently pressing down on Ford’s own hardon (the thought of which made him blush a shade deeper than he already had been—did he really remember his twin’s member that well?). In the spectators’ seating, there was another Bill now distantly shouting, “Boooooo! You ruined the flow and the affect of the whole scene! The momentum’s gone and can never be gotten back! Boooooo!” and Ford found he desperately hoped that was not the case.
“You okay, Sixer?” Stan asked. No, not Stan. Bill. Bill mimicking Stan’s voice and manerisms. Bill mimicking Stan’s body so they could …
Ford cleared his throat. “Y-yes, I am. But, er, I just want to… to make sure that you are. This, uh, scenario doesn’t … doesn’t bother you? At all?”
“What? Why would … Oh!” Stan-Bill exclaimed suddenly. “You mean ‘cause we’re not just crossin’ a bunch of taboo lines in your meatbag culture, but went a mile past ‘em and are now buildin’ a small but charmingly perverted, summer cabin we can visit at our leisure?”
“I, um … suppose that’s one way of putting it …”
“Heh heh! It’s funny how awkward you are about this!” But before Ford could get defensive, Stan-Bill continued, “Sixer, I’m not human. I’m a Muse, here to inspire you to break through arbitrary human conventions (like the restrictive barriers they are) to something higher, purer, and truer. So all the arbitrary moral codes you meatbags make for yourselves, especially where sex is concerned? Don’t apply to me, don’t affect me. Whatever you desire, whoever you desire, however you desire (no matter how weird, complex, or how many parts it needs performed) I can play out for you here in your mindscape so well it will feel real. I can give you the psychological or sexual release you need to get tracted again on our oh so important work!”
Though overwhelmed by the possibilities, Ford still maintained, “That’s not a real word …”
“Like I said before, Sixer, if you wanna relive a memory, act out a hypothetical conversation or an argument with someone (like your brother or your parents or an ex or that one bald professor you loathed), or experience a completely new fantasy altogether … I’m down. Let’s do ‘em all.”
Ford gulped. “Y-you’re sure … it doesn’t bother you? At all? I mean, this is … er …”
Stan-Bill sighed in almost-exasperation. “Look, Fordsy ol’ friend, my true form doesn’t even have sex organs. Not that you’ll be able to tell when I change shape in your mindscape and go to town with pleasurin’ you, ‘cause I’m just that good an actor—can act like I’ve always had ‘em and got tons of experience usin’ ‘em to turn people specifically named Stanford Filbrick Pines into puddles of contented, post-coital bliss—and always happy to put on a show for a friend.”
Beneath him, Ford felt so turned on he was having a hard time breathing regularly.
“Plus, I come from a species that has roughly millions of genders, so homosexuality doesn’t bother me in the least. If anything, it radically simplifies things. You wanna get it on with a guy? I can do that. Two guys? Ditto. A guy and a gal at the same time? No prob. An entire roomful of different people? Sure, it’ll be a nice stretch of my talents. Something or somethings that aren’t remotely human? Well, if either of us can imagine it, I can make it in here for you to fuck.”
Beneath him, Ford felt so turned on that he was practically vibrating with excitement.
“And as for what you meatbags call ‘incest’, well,” Bill-Stan shrugged. “Far from the weirdest kink floatin’ around in the collective unconsciousness of humanity. But it is just weird enough, luckily, to keep me invested in any—heh heh—boldly transgressive or unapologetically perverse theatrical performances you might want to try here on the mindscape stage. So c’mon, brother,” he added emphatically, positively dripping Stanness now. “Just follow my lead … We got hours ‘til Dad and Mom get home …”
Beneath him, Ford felt so turned on that he was sorta surprised the couch hadn’t caught fire around the two of them. Another low moan escaped his lips as he felt Stan-Bill’s lips press against his throat again … as he felt Stan-Bill grind against his bulge again … as he felt Stan-Bill carry him back into a more fulfilling moment than the present reality could ever hope to offer …
“You like that, cabin nerd? Huh? You like when I do that to ya? Go on, say ‘Aye-aye, Captain’.”
Though his hands were still pinned against the armrest of the couch and his body born down into the cushions, Ford arched his hips into the grind.
“C’mon, cabin nerd, go ahead and say it … Become a part of my couch pirate crew …”
Giggling, Ford turned and offered himself up for a kiss. It was long and warm and wet and deep, and so very, very sweet. It left him breathlessly whimpering, “Mmm, Stan … Bill …”
“Who’s this Bill?” Stan-Bill asked teasingly. Then, as if to punctuate every following sentence, he humped slow and hard at the end of it. “Someone I otta be jealous of? Someone I gotta go beat up? Someone who’s gotta learn that you’re mine … my brother … my lover … and no one else gets to touch ya but me?”
“Ah! Yes!” Ford cried out.
And, distantly, the Bill in the seats shouted, “Boooooo! Going off script like this is for amateurs! Improv in an established piece is for hacks who can’t remember their lines! Boooooo!”
That was when Bill (not the original Bill playing Stan, nor any of the copies playing stagehands, but the real Bill in a clonesuit stretched out on the bed in the attic) snapped out of his fascination and decided it was time to stop reviewing memories for a while. Especially this one in particular. Not because it wasn’t nostalgic or entertaining or sexually titillating for him (it was very much), not because he couldn’t remember what had happened next (his recall was still just as perfect as the rest of him—heh heh!), but because …
Because it just wasn’t worth watching the rest. Both in Ford’s memory of the actual event with his brother, and in the slightly altered reenactment Bill had performed with Ford, it hadn’t been more than another minute or two of cornball dialogue, couch grinding, and rough kissing before they climaxed. And why not? Ford and Stan had been horny, pent up teenagers way back then … and Ford had been a horny, pent up adult back then (what with his tons of emotional baggage and sexual frustration) …
“Not worth getting wound up over,” Bill muttered to the cabin ceiling. “Not when jerking off won’t be enough to take the edge off the horniness I’ll feel afterwards … And besides, if I want to feel wound up and horny, there are much wilder memories I could perfectly recall than that. With Dipper or with Sixer …”
His hand came up wearing a sock puppet Mabel had made to look like his true form—or, at least, as much like his true form as a sock with a hand shoved in it could, (though, honestly, it looked less like a dapper triangle and more like the bastard lovechild that would result from a wild night of passion between him and Kermit the Frog)—and said, “Funny how you didn’t even realize how good a thing you had with ol’ Fordsy, isn’t it?”
“How do you figure that?” Bill asked his sock puppet. “Working and hanging with him was a ton of fun, and I missed the 79 Hells outta it after he sided with this mudball … Still do, actually …”
“I mean all that wild, limitationless, mindscape sex you had with him. Back then, for you, it was just the fun of weird playacting (and manipulating a gullible meatbag); you didn’t appreciate any of the physical side of it.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re right. Of course, y’know, I kinda couldn’t appreciate it back then.”
“The beginning of the summer was a lot like that, too, with Dipper and Mabel and all the others,” the sock puppet continued matter-of-factly. “You didn’t appreciate any of the emotional side of spending time with them, what with how full of hate and plans for vengeance you were.”
“… No, I didn’t,” Bill admitted.
“All that time spent with them, and you didn’t even realize how good a thing you had.”
“… I kinda couldn’t appreciate all that back then, either, in my defense.”
“You could now, y’know.”
“What, you mean … relive the memories? Actually, that could be a fun way to pass the time,” Bill mused to himself. “Might not feel quite so bored or lone … Cthulhu’s cartilaginous cranium, I could go through all my memories with Ford! Maybe there’s something I filed away in there—something I didn’t think was important at the time, something that could spark another thought—that could help get me past the bubble!” he exclaimed, bolting upright. “And back to my Dipper!”
“That wasn’t exactly what I meant …” the sock puppet pointed out.
But it was rather futile; Bill was on a role now. “The bumblr crowd could even help with this … Them asking the right questions might give me some direction, instead of just prospecting—”
“HEY! LISTEN!” the sock puppet shrilled. “I meant you could be having a good thing right now with all the people here at the Shack. Emotionally and such. Enjoying it fully. But you’re not. Even though you want to.”
Looking away from the reproachful, googly-eyed gaze, Bill muttered, “Kinda hard to with Ford setting such a grim mood for everyone here any time he walks in on me and someone else.”
“You’re wasting time,” the sock puppet stated irrefutably. “Like at the beginning of the summer, when you were too busy being … being not nice—being mean—to everyone, especially Dipper. Now you’re wasting time being bitter at Ford.”
“He’s wasting time being just as bitter at me!” Bill countered defensively.
“And when was the last time you really tried to do anything about that? Huh? When you bought everybody gifts, maybe, a few months ago?”
“… Honestly? I guess so, yeah.”
“Go try again. You wanted to, anyway, since you saw him in the woods crying ‘bout how much he misses the Twins, too,” the sock puppet affirmed. “It’s the reason you turned away from remembering that time on the couch before the climax, too; you’re not in the mood for sexiness, not deep down, but for sappiness. You can appreciate that emotional side of things now, so stop wasting time not enjoying ‘em.”
“What if … What if he doesn’t want to stop being bitter? What if he doesn’t want to move on?”
“Then at least you’ll have tried. You won’t be wasting time being bitter. And you get to spend more time perfectly recalling individual memories to see if you can find something helpful to escape, so win-win for you.”
Bill sighed. “I’d argue with you, but you are me, so I know I won’t win … Well, let’s go …”
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richincolor · 5 years
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Interview with Kat Cho
Wicked Fox, Kat Cho’s debut, was released yesterday and of course I had to pre-order it. How was a person expected to wait after reading this summary?
“Eighteen-year-old Gu Miyoung has a secret–she’s a gumiho, a nine-tailed fox who must devour the energy of men in order to survive. Because so few believe in the old tales anymore, and with so many evil men no one will miss, the modern city of Seoul is the perfect place to hide and hunt.
But after feeding one full moon, Miyoung crosses paths with Jihoon, a human boy, being attacked by a goblin deep in the forest. Against her better judgment, she violates the rules of survival to rescue the boy, losing her fox bead–her gumiho soul–in the process.
Jihoon knows Miyoung is more than just a beautiful girl–he saw her nine tails the night she saved his life. His grandmother used to tell him stories of the gumiho, of their power and the danger they pose to men. He’s drawn to her anyway.
With murderous forces lurking in the background, Miyoung and Jihoon develop a tenuous friendship that blossoms into something more. But when a young shaman tries to reunite Miyoung with her bead, the consequences are disastrous and reignite a generations-old feud . . . forcing Miyoung to choose between her immortal life and Jihoon’s.”
Kat Cho was kind enough to answer a few questions about her book. After learning more, you’ll likely want to grab a copy too.
Nine-tailed foxes seem incredibly fascinating. How and when did you first hear stories about the gumiho?
I first heard about the gumiho in Korean folktales as a child. But I was reintroduced to them as an adult. At this point I was writing again and I knew immediately I wanted to write a book based on the myth. She is so often cast as an evil being that I wanted to know why. As I delved more into research on the fox spirit I found a few very old stories that represented the fox spirit as an ambivalent, even helpful, being. I wondered why she became cast as so evil. And I love the exploration of moral ambiguity that must exist for someone who must kill to survive (a la vampires and werewolves). I loved the idea of doing that exploration with Korean source materials!
What do you love most about the Jihoon and Miyoung?
I love that they see a kinship in each other even though they’re two people who react very differently to hardship. I also love that they took a while to realize that they love each other (or I hope that’s how it comes across). For me, it takes me a bit to warm up to someone enough to trust them with my heart, so I wanted that for my characters too, especially because they’ve been hurt before by people they loved. I also wanted to show that often times the healthiest love is the kind that grows out of genuine friendship and affection. In some ways the story is about how Miyoung learns how to create meaningful friendships and one of those friendships just happens to grow into love.
The setting of Wicked Fox is modern day Seoul. What are your favorite things about the city and did any of them make it into the book?
The Food! And yes, it definitely did. I guess I also really enjoy the fact that a lot of the history exists within the streets of Seoul, in the way the buildings are built to what has been kept preserved over the centuries. The modernization of Seoul is newer than we might expect seeing how sleek and high tech so much of the city is. But when my mother was a little girl they still used ondol (coal/wood heating) in the floors. Some people still use it today. And I love that this dichotomy exists within the city.
I’m always excited when books begun during NaNo go on to publication. How has NaNoWriMo been helpful to you and what keeps bringing you back over the years?
It helps to motivate me! I love that writers from all over the world participate. It’s really inspiring to see others hitting their goals. So even if I don’t always hit my word count goal, I still feel like I’m not in this alone and it helps me feel motivation to keep going even when I hit some road blocks along the way.
After completing your first draft, how long did it take before you felt ready to look for an agent and what was that process like?
It took over a year for me to feel the manuscript was ready. It was a slow drafting and revision process because this book had so much importance to me. It held so much of the things I loved: my Korean heritage, influences from K-dramas, Korean mythology. I wanted to do justice to it all. So I took my time on making sure it came out the way I wanted. But even then I definitely needed guidance and counsel from someone in the industry. So when I signed with my agent, I was really happy that she was so enthusiastic to revise it with me. The book became so much better with her help and I was very confident with it when we went on submission to editors. Don’t get me wrong, the submission process was still super stressful, but it would have been ten times worse if I didn’t feel so good about the book I’d worked on with my agent.
Can you tell us about something that has surprised you during the publishing process?
How many different people get involved! There are so many departments in a publishing house and they all have a part in getting the final book out there. Of course, we all know about the editor and even the publicist. But there are copy editors, designers, artists, digital publicity, and assistants at all level who make sure the communication is always there and that all the moving parts are working in tandem. Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done sometimes if I didn’t have my editor’s assistant checking in with me and giving me information about different parts of the process. Also things as simple as knowing where to show up and when is really important in keeping an author’s anxiety in check and that stuff often comes from an assistant. There are a lot of unsung heroes in publishing, but they’re all very important to the process.
In reviews and blurbs, Wicked Fox is being described as a book for fans of Korean dramas. It’s almost impossible to choose a favorite, but can you share a few of the K-dramas that have made you cry and swoon?
Hahaha, get ready for THE LIST: W: Two Worlds, Gaksital, School 2013, Moonlight Drawn by Clouds, Goblin, Oh My Ghostess, Pinocchio, Healer, Coffee Prince, My Love From Another Star, Goong, Descendants of the Sun
I have recently discovered the podcast Write or Die and am enjoying the episodes. What inspired you to start your vlog and have a podcast along with everything else you are doing?
I started the vlog because I knew I was going to travel a bit both for the book and for personal reasons and I really wanted to record those times. But as I got more into vlogging I also realized I loved the idea of sharing my writing and publishing journey as well. So it became a hybrid vlog and authortube channel. For the podcast, that was first started by my best friend Claribel Ortega (author of Ghost Squad). She and I were having a conversation once when I was on sub and I was saying it felt like I’d never sell my book (fun fact: time has different meaning when you’re on submission to editors/publishing houses, it moves super slow and 1 day feels like 100). Claribel said that the submission journey always took much longer than we think from the outside and if she interviewed a bunch of authors she was sure their submission stories would be as harrowing (if not more) than my own. She was right and when I was a guest in one of the earlier episodes we found out that we loved talking about industry stuff and writing so she invited me to be co-host and the rest is history!
Kat Cho is a YA author who loves to incorporate her Korean heritage in her writing, especially if it involves describing food. She loves anything that encourages nerding out, including reading, K-dramas, K-pop and anime. She’s the author of Wicked Fox (Putnam/Penguin, 2019).
You can find Kat online at:
Twitter, Instagram, Youtube, Write or Die Podcast, KatChoWrites.com
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