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rallamajoop · 2 years

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How I found a scene from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast buried in Stoker’s Notes for Dracula

(Art by my good friend Em ‒ who is available for commissions, in case you were wondering)

You know a work has left its mark on a culture when someone can get away with publishing whole extra books * containing nothing but copies of the author’s original working notes.

For the dedicated Dracula-nerd, though, there is some fascinating stuff buried in Stoker’s early notes ‒ mostly in all those ideas that didn’t make the final draft. I could go on about my favourite details, but no one thing gave me so much joy as discovering that an early plan for chapter 6 (back while Jonathan Harker is trapped in Dracula’s castle) included what sounds, to modern ears, far too much like that one scene from a certain Disney film:

Chapter 6 Jonathan Harker’s Diary Cont. Attempt to get away from castle—Wolves—wehr wolf—old chapel—carting earth—shrieks from grave—sights of terror & falling senseless—found by Count

(Probably didn’t hurt that Em had also lately drawn my attention to some memorable Disney-style Dracula fanart stills by Jozef Szekeres.** But I strongly suspect my brain would have gone to the same place on reading that line regardless.)

Obviously, the inherrently romantic drama of rescuing your prisoner from wolves would have been much less apparent to readers in Stoker's time, a comfortable century before anything resembling the Disney film existed (I am pretty confident no rescue-from-wolves scene existed in any notable pre-Disney version of the story). And there’s definitely recognisable plot stuff going on in the background: “old chapel—carting earth" presumably marks an early version of the scene where Jonathan discovers Dracula’s servants digging up his native earth to ship to England, while the ‘wehr wolf’ is very likely Dracula himself in wolf form. It’s also possible Jonathan was supposed to have escaped the wolves before whatever was in that grave had him fainting like a Victorian maiden, only to wake up back at the castle later with Dracula looming over him. So maybe I’m reaching a little picturing... y’know, basically what Em drew for me.

Then again, chapter 4 of same plot outline does feature that one infamous rescue-by-Dracula scene that did make it into the finished novel, where Jonathan is accosted by the castle's sexy female vampires, only for Dracula himself to burst into the room, throw them aside, and utter the immortal line: “How dare you touch him, any of you? [..] This man belongs to me!” ***

There’s also that weird little deleted-scene-from-an-actual-Dracula-draft that would be eventually published in 1914 as Dracula’s Guest, which would have seen Dracula flying to Jonathan’s rescue before he even reached the castle. Here, Jonathan is saved him from another lady vampire in a grave yard by a suspiciously-well-aimed bolt of lighting and gust of wind (remember, Dracula can canonically control weather) ‒ and then from hypothermia, using what I can only describe as “weirdly homoerotic non-con werewolf snuggling.” (I’m not even kidding).****

Basically, let’s none of us pretend that ambiguously-romantic Dracula rescue moments were ever out of character for this bizarre little text.

Oddly, the rest of the summary for chapter 6 suggests that being rescued from wolves is the very last event Jonathan experiences in the castle. The following lines read only:

Is it all a dream - back to London Letter from Hawkins - to be made partner or London agent Chooses London

And the next time we hear about Jonathan in this outline, he’s marrying Mina (in England, even), so his dramatic escape and long struggle with PTSD from the published Dracula have yet to join Stoker’s plans. This leaves only more questions: did Dracula just let Jonathan go in this early version? Or did the “found by the Count” episode happen entirely off-screen, with Jonathan fainting in Transylvania only to wake up back in England, wondering if the whole adventure was “all a dream”?

Alas, it’s unlikely we’ll ever know for sure. Notes like these, made mostly to jog the author’s own memory of all the other bits they never bothered to write down, were certainly meant to be coherent to scholars who will be still be puzzling over them 100+ years in the future. (On a bad day, they may no longer even make sense to the poor author who wrote them, a month down the track.)

But I’ve rambled on long enough ‒ what conclusions can we really draw here?

Well, in conclusion: I can prove nothing, but I’m still damn well going to speculate that Stoker may well have had some barely-repressed fantasies about being plucked from the mouth of sexy danger by a dangerously-possessive sexy vampire daddy Count. And someone should totally write me a Harker and the Beast AU version of Dracula’s opening chapters.

(And all that is, in brief, exactly the kind of reason these people can get away with publishing multiple different editions of Stoker’s notes, confident that suckers like me will still care enough to read and overanalyse them goddamnit.)

* Yes, these are links to two “different” books (Bram Stoker’s Notes for Dracula (2008) and Drafts of Dracula (2019)), because the same editors have republished the same material twice ‒ only the second version is very slightly reorganised, adds a few minor notes on a few more recently discovered details, and is now referring to Stoker’s pages of very rough dot-points as “drafts” (presumably because publishing this books as “Very Rough Draft Outlines for Dracula” couldn’t hope to sell nearly so many copies as the the implication that multiple actual draft copies of Stoker’s book have ever been found). This is what may be technically referred to as “a shameless cash-grab.”

** There seems to be a misconception going around that these are concept art from a (legitimate) unproduced Dracula animated film by Don Bluth, which never got past the concept stage. While you can see how the mistake was made, it’s not true ‒ intriguing as the idea of a Don Bluth Dracula may be, no concept art for it has ever surfaced (and the few details that have don’t especially resemble these stills). Joseph Szekeres has done pro-animation work, but not for Bluth’s company. They’re just fanart, and that’s okay.

*** To my great joy, the notes also show that this scene was such a fundamental part of Stoker’s early Dracula concepts that its first outline (in which Dracula’s dialogue even goes on to add, “I want him!”) appears on the earliest properly-dated page ever discovered. This may not be the very first page of Stoker’s ideas (many are undated), but so crucial is this quote that multiple references to it in later outlines refer to this scene with nothing but the three-word-summaation “belongs to me”. The is, officially, the “belongs to me” scene.

**** Scholars like those mentioned above seem weirdly in denial about the obvious implication that the ‘wolf’ which lies on top of Jonathan until proper rescue arrives is Dracula himself, in wolf form. Nevermind that Dracula himself is seen earlier in the story on Jonathan’s trail (a tall, thin figure who spooks horses), or that something is evidently manipulating the weather (y'know, like Dracula can), or even that Jonathan’s (human) rescuers are very clear that what they saw is not a natural wolf. And yet, when it comes to the wolf itself, most want it to be “a wolf under Dracula’s command” or “a servant of Dracula” (because... Dracula has so many werewolf servants elsewhere in the narrative?) C’mon, people ‒ Occam’s Razor doesn’t cease to apply just because it’s getting homoerotic werewolf vibes all over your Victorian vampire novel!

#Dracula #Dracula x Jonathan #Beauty and the Beast #Disney #Jonathan Harker #Harker and the Beast #Dracula meta

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astolfo-tiddy · 2 years

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Apocrypha: Fated Encounter (Part 3)

Summary: 10 years have passed since the Great Holy Grail War. Laeticia, the former vessel for Jeanne D'Arc, has stumbled upon Astolfo while vacationing in Rome. She discovers that the Heroic Spirit has been helping other people as they travel around the world.

Characters: Laeticia, Astolfo

Length: 1465 words

Later that evening, Laeticia and Astolfo found themselves back at the apartment where the former was staying. Astolfo had calmed down and started telling Laeticia all they had been up to in the past decade. It was predominantly travelling and helping out random people in whatever country Astolfo found themself. Other times, it was visiting the other survivors of the Holy Grail War. Caules Forvedge at the Clock Tower in London. His sister Fiore who had moved to New York. They had even returned to Trifas to spend a brief period of time with Gordes and the surviving homunculi.

“Can I ask…” Laeticia said, trying her best not to sound offended. “Why did you never come looking for me?”

“Well, I didn’t know where to find you. I knew Gordes was back in Trifas, and he pointed me towards Caules and Fiore—well actually, it was Toole who prompted him to do that. But you… Well, we never exchanged contact information—not that I had a cellphone back then! I haven’t been trying to avoid you. The few times I was in France, I tried keeping a lookout. But what was I supposed to do? Visit every house in the entire country? Roam the countryside until I saw you? Even on my hippogriff that would take a while.”

Laeticia nodded understandingly. “I guess that makes sense. Do you have a cellphone now?”

Astolfo reached into a purse they had been wearing and pulled out a smartphone. “Yup! Check it out!” They showed Laeticia the case, on the back of which was a somewhat crudely drawn design of a Hippogriff flying alongside a mighty black dragon.

“D-did you draw this yourself?” she asked.

“Sure did! Caules helped me get all this smartphone stuff figured out. He even taught me how to upload pictures and drawings to the internet so I could get custom-made designs.” That explained it. The pair quickly exchanged numbers. Astolfo immediately texted Laeticia an entire wall of hearts in every color of the rainbow. “Now I’ll let you know whenever I’m in town! Wait, are you living in Rome or…”

“No, I’m actually leaving tomorrow. I was just hear on vacation because I wanted to get away for a little bit. I still live in France.”

“Do you have a boyfriend back in France? Or… maybe a husband?” Astolfo leaned in way too close across the table they sat at.

Laeticia looked away. Not out of embarrassment as much as a desire for personal space. “Not at the moment. I was dating someone last year, but things didn’t really work out.” Feeling the need to reciprocate a response, Laeticia foolishly asked, “What about you? Do you have a… partner?”

Astolfo immediately burst out laughing. Laeticia looked away again, this time actually out of embarrassment. “You think I could have a romantic partner with the way that I live?”

“Sorry I asked. I know that was dumb.”

After Astolfo got over their laughing fit, they started probing into Laeticia’s personal life. She had worked for a while at a library before moving on to find work in other fields. This had been around the time when she had managed to get over her nightmares. She was hesitant to tell Astolfo about the nightmares that had plagued her for several years. She decided it was best to avoid telling them about the ones involving being mauled by a hippogriff. Soon after she had started talking, Astolfo pulled out a small journal and began writing things down.

“What is that?” Laeticia had asked.

“I guess it’s like a diary. I prefer to call it a record. You know how my memory is kind of off because the moon messed with my head?” Laeticia remembered how Astolfo had behaved back in Romania. Their wits were only marginally acceptable during nights of a New Moon—or if the moon was somehow taken out of the sky. She quickly looked out the window of the apartment. She couldn’t see the moon, but she was pretty certain it had been about half full the night before.

“Anyway,” Astolfo continued, “I want to keep a record of what happened to everyone after the Holy Grail War. What they’re doing with their lives. How they feel about those events. It’s interesting to see how opinions have changed over the last decade.”

“Can I… I don’t suppose you would be willing to let me read it, would you? If it’s like a diary, I understand if that’s a bit personal…”

“I suppose it’s alright if it’s you, Laeticia.” Astolfo handed over their record, and Laeticia slowly started reading over the countless pages of Astolfo’s adventures and interviews they had conducted over the past decade. She read about the people she still occasionally saw within her memories. People she had never truly met but still knew in some sense.

There were stories of Caules working his way through the Clock Tower and trying to get other mages to understand how technology worked. Fiore travelling across the United States and Canada while learning how to walk—and then eventually how to run. Gordes being… well, being Gordes. His trying to rebuild the Musik family after the fallout of the Yggdmillennia clan debacle. His work to try to better the lives of the Yggdmillennia homunculi. Toole’s remaining years before her passing. All of these lives that were so much more interesting that of an everyday woman who was just going along for the ride that was an average life.

“Are you okay?” Astolfo asked when Laeticia finally closed the record.

“Huh?” It wasn’t until then that Laeticia noticed that her eyes were wet. “Oh, it’s… it’s nothing.” She quickly rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. “I’m fine. Honest. I’m just beginning to realize how boring my life is compared to what I know is hidden just behind the corners of society. I know I could never be a mage. But reading about these people who Jeanne and you fought alongside makes me wish that I was able to do more with the life I have.”

“Then how about you come with me?”

Silence permeated the small apartment as Astolfo’s words hung in the empty space between conversation. Laeticia almost couldn’t comprehend what she had just heard. ‘Come with me’… What did it mean? The almost inaudible hum of electricity continued on, almost growing louder and louder with each millisecond that past.

“I…” Why did Laeticia’s voice sound so loud to her own ears. She stared Astolfo in their eyes. So large. Inviting. Completely innocent and earnest in their request. “I don’t understand. What do you mean by that?”

“Well…” Astolfo put a finger to their chin and screwed up their face with deep concentration. Finally, “I guess I meant what I said. Come with me as I go around helping people! If you think your life is boring, then just change it.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not that bad. How old are you? Twenty-nine, right?”

“Right. Meaning I have a job. An apartment. Family. Friends. I can’t just… I’m not a Heroic Spirit like you with the means to just travel the world without care about other responsibilities. Besides, I’m leaving tomorrow to head back to France. I already paid for transportation. I really just—”

Astolfo’s face was still just as determined as ever, forcing Laeticia to falter. “I mean—you can just tell me that you’re okay with your life as it is,” they told her. “Provided that’s true.”

“That’s…” Laeticia wanted to respond right away. She wanted to be able to lie to Astolfo that she was fine with her normal human life. She would live as a normal person, grow old as a normal person, and die as a normal person. She would help people the same way any other normal person helped their neighbor. Flying around the world on the back of a hippogriff and helping strangers alongside one of the paladins of Charlemagne? That idea was complete nonsense!

“Just give me some time to think about it.”

Astolfo agreed to Laeticia’s request and set aside the topic at hand. They quickly changed gears and asked Laeticia if she wanted to have one last night of exploring Rome before her flight home to following day. Not wanting to disappoint Astolfo any further, she agreed to go on a walk around the city. The Trevi Fountain. The Pantheon. The Coliseum. They also stopped in several smaller churches. Laeticia had already seen all of this. Astolfo had as well. But seeing them together. Being able to share this last night in Rome together. Hearing Astolfo’s stories from the couple times they had visited Rome when they were alive in the eighth century. It was unreal. It felt…

#fate series #fan fic #astolfo #laeticia #fate/apocrypha #fate blogging #there'll be one more part after this

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imagineofallkindsxxx · 3 years

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Eternal Flame- 9/? Kol Mikaelson

Vampires... They're Real

WC: 1675

We all fell asleep in Sams room the following night while watching his favourite comfort movie in his bed. That's the twelfth time I've seen Top Gun now. We were or at least I was woken up by a loud cough coming from the doorway, I opened my eyes to reveal that I fell asleep on the floor last night with the three boys on the bed, and they say chivalry is dead. I looked at the digital clock on Sams bedside cabinet which read 11.03 which made me sit up abruptly looking at the doorway to see Meredith, she must have stayed over as well. I got up searching for my phone to reveal i had 12 texts from Elena, 5 from Ric and a voicemail from the least likely person, Damon Salvatore. I shoved it into my back pocket before heading to the door leaving the trio sleeping peacefully. I walked down the stairs to see Meredith, Harry, and Lucy. Sams parents.

"I am so sorry for your loss Mr. and Mrs. Fell. You too Meredith." I told them sincerely upset about the death of Tobias Fell. "Do they know the cause of death?" I asked the trio which Lucy replied.

"Animal attack." Strained voice probably from crying and comforting her husband.

Animal attack.

Vampires.

"That's terrible." I said still feeling bad for them especially Meredith and Harry but still genuinely hoping that it was a tomb vampire and not Stefan. "Again, I'm sorry for your loss." This created a weak smile from Lucy and a nod from Meredith, Harry staring into space. I heard a honk from outside that sounded like a certain Salvatores vintage car. "That's my ride."

"I'll show you out," Meredith got out standing up heading towards the door I've been going in and out since freshman year.

"Can you tell Sam to text me whenever he wants. I'll be free for him." She nodded confirming she'll pass on the message to my best friend. I walked out and saw the blue vehicle with a raven-haired vampire driver making me nearly turn back and go back to Sam. I walked towards him and got into the car. I put the seatbelt on then he sped away.

"Do you not answer your texts?" He questioned in that classic Damon tone. I rolled my eyes.

"When a family member of my best friends has been killed via 'animal attack' I tend to stick by him" I replied snarkily making him roll his eyes. "Well, what's with the texts and calls?" It was his time to show off his 'iconic' smirk.

"Well, I assume you're aware of the little ghost problem we had last night." I hummed in agreement my mind going back to the conversation i had with my deceased aunt "Well the ghost of Mason Lockwood gave me a visit and showed me something very interesting in the Lockwood cellar" he told me stretching the very before stopping not giving me any hints of what it may be.

"Well? What is it?" I asked annoyed at the vampire already, two minutes must be a record.

"Patience is a virtue, middle Gilbert" making me roll my eyes for what seems to be the tenth time in three minutes. We sat in silence on the way to the Lockwood cellar before getting out the car and walking a good five minutes "Could you be any slower?" Damon asked annoyed by my speed making me contemplate going slower just to annoy him.

"I can try." He turned back and glared at me we walked into the cellar seeing my sister and Ric who must have gotten here not long before us as they were walking down the hidden tunnel in the cellar. Damon put a finger to his month as if be quiet, i narrowed my eyes but nevertheless I went behind him quiet to see where this is going. I overheard Ric saying to Elena.

"Careful where you shine that thing. Bats hate the light."

"Wait, what?" Elena replied making me keep a laugh in when Damon comes down the tunnel standing behind her whispers.

"Elena!" Which she turns around to see the blue-eyed vampire "Boo!" scaring the petit brunette as I see he jump with fright.

"Ah, god Damon!" She yelled making me smile before pushing past him to stand next to Ric.

"Scaredy-cat!" He goads.

"Just ignore him. That's what I do." Ric advises Elena and me rolling his eyes.

"To be fair Ric," he looked at me while I was looking at the floor expecting me to actually defend a Salvatore "it is quite hard at times, his voice is just that annoying. Its impossible" making the doppelganger and hunter smirk at the scowl on the vampires' face.

"Your real brave when your somewhere I can't reach you" I gave him a smirk in retaliation to the statement.

"So, you really can't get in?" my twin asks the annoyed creature.

"No. Seems like even the ancient Lockwoods were anti-vampire." Damon told the elder Gilbert.

"Wonder why?" I sarcastically muttered making him give me a glare which I ignored too busy trying not to fall in the dark and rough terrain.

"What do you mean ancient?" Elena questions oblivious to the comment made towards the Salvatore and his species. His eyes go back to my sister, he gestured in a way to carry on walking.

"See for yourself." The four of us carrying on the walk with two flashlights being our only source of light. "Well, this is as far as I go" Damon states letting the two gilbert sisters and their hunter guardian carry on walking. Elena shines her flashlight on the wall in front of us to show drawings of all kinds seemingly to be Viking runic.

"What is all this?" my sister asks from beside me while I somehow read some of the writing.

"Well as far as I can tell, it's a story." Ric begins "In simple, archaeological terms, it's a really, really old story" he points at a drawing of what is the moon cycle, I think? "That right there, is the moon cycle" after this he points at another drawing on the wall "a man, a wolf." How did I know that was moon cycle?

"A werewolf" Elena says looking mesmerized by the drawings.

"Yeah, it's the 'Lockwood Diaries: Pictionary-Style'" Damon pitches in with an attempt at humor of the possibly huge discovery in front of us.

"But the Lockwoods didn't settle here until the 1860's with the rest of the founders. Who drew these? When were they drawn?" I asked the historian in which he shared a look with the vampire.

"A long time ago" Ric vaguely told me.

"How long?" My sister said backing me up by questioning the hunter as well.

"Long. It gets better. Show them, Ric." Damon once again butted in.

"Names. They're not native. They're written in-"

"Runic, a Viking script" I cut him off making his look at me with eyebrows raised, I shrugged my shoulders.

"Vikings?" my sister said not understand that Vikings were in Mystic Falls.

"This name here, I translated it and it reads Niklaus" Ric tells us.

"Klaus"

"And Elijah... and Rebekah" pointing towards the names on the wall flashing at a group of names one catching my eye that I'm barely hearing anything, it was only three letters. it was next to Rebekahs making me think that maybe it was another Mikaelson. I was in a weird kind of daze, the only thing breaking me out of the trance I was in while looking at the name was.

"Mikael." That makes me snap my head towards the teacher.

"Mikael? Their dad?" I questioned with a nod of confirmation from Ric.

"Mikael, as in, the vampire hunter who knows how to kill Klaus?" My sister asked all of us.

"Yep. I now like to call him 'Papa Original'" Damon says humor filling his voice while Ric takes pictures of the cave wall.

To break the tension my phone rang to see Sam was texting me,

'Meet me at our place in ten mins?'

I furrow my eyebrows wondering what could be so important that couldn't be said over the phone but sent back a little.

'Sure'.

"Hate to break this lovely revelation short but I have somewhere to be, friend to console. You know the drill." indicating I'm going to speak to Sam which Elena nods in reassurance.

"Yeah go, be with him. Do you need a ride to his place?" She asks me but I shook my head.

"I can walk it but thanks Lena" walking out of the cave missing the look of borderline shock on her face at the nickname I've barely called her since the accident. I walk out of the old Lockwood cellar northwest for a few minutes before reaching a little lake that is usually used for parties but when quiet a peaceful place where Sam and I come to regularly when we need to get away from everything. When I'm there I already see the brunette sitting on a rock.

"Hey, Sam." He turns around while sitting to see me, he turns back around facing the lake with a serious expression on his pale face. "Are you okay? Stupid question. What can I do to help?" I asked reprimanding myself for asking such a stupid question at the beginning. I sat down next to him on the same rock. He gave me a small smile.

"You can keep a secret right?" He asked in all serious.

"Of course," I told him offhandedly.

"No Alexandra. I'm being deadly serious, what I'm about to tell you... I'm not supposed to tell anyone. You can't tell anyone." he told me turning around looking me in dead in the eye. I turned around facing him curious yet worried about my grieving friend.

"Sam, you can tell me anything. I swear on my parents grave I won't tell anyone." I sincerely swore to him.

"It's about" he stopped himself breathing in before sharing

"Vampires... They're real."

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A/N: Sorry for the lack of content episode wise in this but I thought I'd give you an idea of how Sam is going to be a recurring maybe even main character and the rest of the episode plus a bit of Sam drama is part two of the episode.

As usual let me know of any grammar, spelling mistakes or British slang/spelling.

Please comment or vote to let me know I'm doing a decent job. I need validation haha.

Thank you for reading lovelies xxx

#kol mikaelson x you #kol mikaelson series #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson x oc #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries #the originals imagine #the originals

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aty-altiria · 4 years

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FOR THE GREATER GOOD

No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD “Take Me Instead” | “Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice

Oh this was a FUN titles for a Harry Potter ficlet lemme tell you guys. So of course I had to do the thing.

Word count: 1085

Universe: Harry Potter

Pairings: Fem!Harry/Tom Riddle

Rating: T

Themes: Death, some Character bashing, implied mind-control, insanity-sort of

Summary: It’s the begging that helps Holly realize that there is an escape from her position. Because, for as long as she’d known him, Tom has never once begged, and even if he did, he wouldn’t do it to save her. So... there simply must be another way out, and his words are the clue Holly needs to find it.

@whumptober2020

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"Remember this Potter, I don't beg. I will never plead, and any thought of me being kind… remove it from your head. It will never happen. If you can accept that, then I will take you… if only for your potential."

"Holly!"

Holly could barely hear his voice anymore. It was only a whisper in the back of her head, a ghostly thing promising violence. In fact, Holly couldn't even put a name to that voice. She knew… she knew it was familiar. It was in a way that could never be forgotten, but… she no longer knew why.

"Lift your arms! Get up!"

She couldn't do that. There was nothing physically holding her down, but Holly still couldn't so much as shift despite the voice asking it of her. Her arms were flat on the ground, palms facing up, and she was stuck there. Holly was pinned down, forced onto her back. She was trapped.

Shifting her eyes to the side as far as they would go allowed Holly to see a circle surrounding her. The ring was made of glowing purple lettering - runes. Bleary-eyed and unfocused, Holly could still read the symbols as if they'd been written in English… he had ensured she knew to do that much. What she could make out, well, it meant nothing good for her.

Moving her attention outward, Holly discovered that she was at the center of the circular design. While outside it was fretful faces; their names came easy, and the feeling of thick betrayal soured her tongue. Any sense of familiarity died as she stared at them, as she felt the air thicken with betrayal.

"Holly! In Morgana's name! You have to move!"

Hermione, Ron, Minerva… Molly, Arthur, Kingsley, Remus… Dumbledore. They'd told her this was for the greater good, they'd told her she'd be safe, that she'd understand once it was all over. She didn't believe it. Holly had fought back with all the strength she possessed, and considering she was the most powerful witch of the age… that was a lot. And then they'd fought dirty- the diary, they'd stolen it from her, they threatened it, threatened him, and she could do nothing but surrender.

Now, this was the result.

Holly moved her eyes along the 'worried' group. Everything about the motion was sluggish, even her own mind was a bit behind. But as she scanned the area, she found a second runic circle in black where her diary lay. At its center, forced down, chained to the flooring by his wrists… was her- her-

He opened his mouth, face twisting in a snarl as finally caught Holly's gaze and mouthed the words: 'Do you want us both to die Potter?!'

Tom.

Holly's fingers dug into the floor beneath her. Tom, he was her only friend. He was the only one who listened when she told him she was abused, and he never judged just because she was a parseltongue. Tom hadn't turned on her when her name had spawned from the goblet. Nor ignored her when Umbridge came into the picture. Tom was her only real ally. Her only friend. Tom was the one she loved, the other half of her soul. They were connected, and Holly wasn't letting either of them die here.

Dumbledore stepped forward, and the stern expression on Tom's face melted away to one of more concern, a mask like all the rest Holly instantly knew. "Once the ritual is complete, Tom's connection to Holly will be severed. All thoughts to the positive, we should see immediate recovery, and she should return to her original personality."

A mouse. Dumbledore was talking about when Holly had been eleven and desperate for anyone to look at her. When she'd tanked her grades for approval, skived her studies because Ron asked her too. When Holly couldn't handle the Dursley's. When she was nothing but a follower. Dumbledore was talking about Holly's personality before the diary dropped into her lap and showed her what she could be.

Holly clenched her fists, moved them despite the runes tying her down. She… she was the strongest witch in an age, and she would not allow a few runes stop her. Forcing herself to shift, to gain any sort of motion, Holly managed to smudge the rune closest to her and felt her thoughts moving a touch faster. Holly swiftly scanned the area, environment. Tom had always enforced the need to be aware of it; she spotted Snape off to the side with a blank expression, then turned back to Tom. From the side, Holly could see he was positively snarling at Dumbledore, an uncharacteristic amount of anger was on his face. Holly knew the expression was an act, yet she still found the idea he was that moved by her imprisonment flattering. Even Dumbledore seemed slightly taken aback because Tom was usually far more eloquent and manipulative. This emotional version was a surprise to them all. But as Dumbledore assumed and Holly knew, it was an act to distract Dumbledore so Holly could escape.

"Let her go! Take me instead!"

That wasn't a surprise either, not considering what Holly housed. She was the key to Tom's revival but… but not the one she preferred. Holly was the key to Voldemort's soul, not Tom. Because Tom was nothing but a revived Horcrux. He was the diary brought into physical existence through Holly's magic, a Muggle sacrifice, and years of planning. Tom was also considered Holly's teacher and guard, just as she was supposed to be his. They'd both failed today… Voldemort would be furious.

Tom would be killed if she didn't do something, and the Horcrux within her would be ripped away. Then Holly would be reduced to a shell, and she would not expect Voldemort to help her; he wouldn't. The only one who would was… Tom.

Holly snapped her eyes to the floor again and tried to move her hands again. Every shift was hard-won, but each shift smudged another poorly drawn rune. It was intelligent work, Hermione's probably, but the attention to the big picture was missing. Tom was like that too. He was beyond smart, but he didn't miss the obvious; he'd never have drawn the runes for the critical ritual in chalk. Holly moved again, Tom was distracted the group entirely all but for Snape. This was quite the test for the spy. To speak out or not, his choice could doom her. She had to act regardless. Holly shifted her foot, scuffed a rune there. She wiggled her body while Tom completely 'lost it.' She rubbed her head on the ground, got chalk in her hair and- could move.

Tom was intelligent; he was the smartest person Holly knew. He knew obscure magic that Dumbledore couldn't even dream of. Tom knew how to revive the dead, prevent death, and craft a body using ritual sacrifice without ever needed to harm Holly. He was smart, and that was where the danger came from. Tom was a genius with a level of control over his magic that was unheard of. This was the reason Voldemort had been so terrifying before his original defeat. This was also why, while still insane, Voldemort had been a tenth of a threat. Because Voldemort was madness and wild magic, he had been uncontrolled and had none of Tom's strengths.

Holly wasn't smart like Tom was. She didn't have the extreme control he could pull off. Holly could cast wandlessly, on occasion without effort, because Holly knew spells just that intimately. But what Holly lacked for in control and genius-level intelligence, she more than made up for in power. Holly was brute strength, the kind that allowed her to knock out a dragon with a stupefy. The type that froze entire lakes with a flick of the wand. That could force a whole hoard of Dementors back with one Patronus.

She was power.

Holly shoved her hands on the ground, hurled herself into a crouch and tossed her palms outward. Dumbledore hadn't even realized she was free yet, not like Snape, who'd never taken his eyes from her. Dumbledore only noticed when Tom finally smiled. That insane expression, a manic look that made Tom resemble Voldemort. The sign that the creation of the first Horcrux hadn't entirely left his soul unaffected- and then Dumbledore was flying across the room. He and the order cracked against the walls under the sheer force of Holly's magic. One moment of distraction that Tom earned her, and they were defeated.

Tom's smile grew until it was all teeth. Nothing charming was left in its wake, but oh how Holly loved it when he smiled like that. Tom was real like this.

"Well done, Holly."

Her magic swirled around her like a whirlwind. Holly scarcely noticed Hermione begging her to let them help her. Didn't acknowledge Remus telling her she was being possessed, controlled. Or Arthur and Molly yelling that she would end up like Ginny… Tom was proud of her- Holly smiled a little bit crazed. They didn't get it. They thought the diary was controlling her; they thought she had no control over her actions. That she was blank, had large gaps of memory loss, that Tom was utterly in control, and Holly needed to be saved.

They had no idea.

No idea that Tom had never once taken over her body. He'd simply offered her the acceptance that Dumbledore had designed her to crave freely. He'd built up her loyalty over years. Had been a willing ear, a patient but firm teacher. Holly hadn't been wrong in her assumption that she and Tom were soulmates, for she was well aware that she held a part of his soul. He understood her in a supernatural way. Perhaps it was because Tom knew from the Horcrux within her. Maybe he'd cheated and had read her mind. But Holly was long past caring.

Holly looked to Snape, the only one who hadn't been thrown back and watched him kneel as she scuffed the runic work tying Tom down with her trainers. Holly stepped into the runic circle herself and plucked the diary, that sentimental empty Horcrux, from the ring's center and held it close. She then freed Tom from the chains while her former friends wailed and pleaded. Tom stepped free as Dumbledore tried to escape, to ordered Severus to do something. Tom stalked the room, debating their next step.

Eventually, Tom approached Snape and snatched hold of his arm. Snape smothered a flinch even as he kept his head low in deference. "I am uncertain what to do with you Severus, you didn't warn of this… but nor did you interference with Holly's escape." Tom grabbed Severus' face and forced it up, "It seems time to truly discover where your loyalties lie."

Holly knew Tom would plunder Snape's mind for any information he deemed necessary. Such a thing could take days, hours, or minutes. She suspected the latter though, they weren't exactly safe, and he wouldn't allow himself to remain unfocused for too long. Not with Dumbledore so close, not while the man was actively attempting to escape. To prevent any… mistakes, Holly flicked her hand to disarm the group and palmed Dumbledore's wand for future casting.

"Select one within the group, they will be the final ingredient for your Horcrux."

Holly glanced at Tom, he was still looking at Snape, but he'd spoken his order in her head. And it was an order, so Holly got to work. She turned toward the small group, still pinned to the wall debating. Remus was dismissed; the werewolf aspect could cause issues, and despite everything, Holly still held some measure for Remus through her parents; that and Sirius probably would disapprove. Molly, Minerva, and Hermione were likewise dismissed out of sheer disinterest; they didn't feel right. This left Kingsley, Arthur, Ron, and Dumbledore.

That would be poetic.

And her manic smile grew.

#whumptober2020 #no.9 #take me instead #ritual sacrifice #run #harry potter #tom riddle #hp fanfic #fanfiction #tomarry #harrymort #bad dumbledore

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inknose · 4 years

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mdzs read diary part IV, the end

It’s inspiring how much self care wwx is gonna finally get now that his husband will go along with whatever he does, so he’s gotta look out for lwj’s well being if not his own. that is emphatically the STUFF

dragging my hands down I face as I read this, after all these chapters of getting up close and personal with ghouls bleeding from every orifice, slaying ancient beasts, rebelling against the entire cultivation world, the two of them are absolutely paralyzed by middle school crush sleepover math

chicken

he actually drew kissy doodles .... he....

IDK I THINK I JUST DOCUMENTED THIS PART CUZ I WAS STILL SCREAMING you cant expect me to have very useful things to say at this point

this is torture you are both so mushy you are so GONE

This part really stood out to me, it’s an attitude I feel like wwx implies with his inner narration a few times but most clearly says here: he’s not one for allowing himself to exaggerate how bad his circumstances are/could be even a little bit - he’s already lived through some extreme low points and found a way to keep going, so he never makes sweeping statements about what he couldn’t live without (Inner JingYi: you’re supposed to say you’d be lost without him here!!!) Instead he seems to accept as a given that being alive doesn’t guarantee him any pleasantness or joy at all, and as a result his feelings toward being in TRUE LOVE are surprisingly pragmatic, but also colored with such gratitude. There are a lot of things in the novel that struck me, like this, as being just a little to the left of familiar tropes/sentiments, and were more touching for it. Whether it be the influence of culture difference as opposed to what I’m used to reading in most western romance stories, or MXTX’s unique outlook, or a combination of both, it was really refreshing and made me pause over it. Not “I can’t imagine living without you” but “I could be living without you, but instead I get to be with you and I think that’s the best thing that could happen.”

ADJFDKFJ THE UST BEING SO STRONG THAT EVEN THE VILLAIN COMMENTS ON IT IN THE MIDDLE OF EXECUTING HIS EVIL PLANS IS ONE OF THOSE THINGS THAT WILL NEVER FAIL TO MAKE ME LAUGH MY ASS OFF. hes like god damn! here I thought I had problems

it was at this moment that I realized we were doing this Now... I’m still recovering. What a scene. I am so glad I saw the most incredible fanart soon afterwards, bc the fact that someone has already drawn a perfect comic of this part means I don’t have to

I love you so much, you are so annoying, you are perfect... I like how he’s been experiencing openly requited love for all of ten minutes but he’s already figured out how to weaponize it to piss people off

doing!!! his!!! job!!!!!

ahh... it’s a really good story. JGY is a great character. One of the most interesting differences for me between drama watching vs. novel reading experience is that without an actor to bat his vulnerable doe eyes at you and smile faintly with his cute dimples, the book does not go much out of its way to try to lull the reader into a false sense of security around him or *endear* him to you the way the show does. But just by seeing events through wei wuxian’s POV, its still enough to evoke pity or understanding towards him. The overall impression is a bit more detached though, there’s less emphasis on the spectacle of how he could manipulate everyone closest to him and more of a general feeling of resigned tragedy that everyones the worst on this bitch of an earth.

I CANNOT DEAL WITH YOU FOR EVEN ONE MORE SECOND!!!!

I clearly paused to take note of less and less parts at the end & the extras due to: a) too excited to reach the end b) too spicy to photograph and c) too sleepy cuz I kept reading in the middle of the night. but I absolutely took the time for Bro We Are Teens appreciation corner:

I’d absolutely read 40 more extra chapters of their monster-of-the-week field trip antics.

god... poor Jin Ling now basically has to deal with divorced parents that talk shit about each other to him whenever he is saying with one of them. except they are both his uncles. just a disasterhood of all uncles from start to finish. AUUUGH wei wuxian and jiang cheng have fucked me up completely, I dream of them reconciling but I also REFUSE to believe it would ever be easy. let me know if theres a fanfic that absolutely tortures you for decades before they hug

HAHAHA oh no this man ain’t making it to immortality thats for damn sure. HE’S JUST GONNA TRY AS HARD AS HE CAN HIS WHOLE LIFE NOT TO LOOK AT HIM BUT THEYRE *MARRIED* SDLKFJSF ohhhh it’s too funny, like... the mundane domestic family drama IN the fantastical swords and sorcery setting is what really ratchets up these things from amusing to fucking hilarious I think

aaaa the end... final random thoughts? No not final, I would like to please keep discussing at length and exhaustively, all the time please - CQL has gotta be one of the best TV adaptations I’ve seen. ANY adaptation of anything would be lucky to be so good!! reading the novel has just made me appreciate it even more.

- I don’t think I can do justice to what I find most fascinating about comparing the two versions briefly, to do that I need to get drunk and ramble at my friends for hours but... the condensed version is something like this. Really all the significant differences between the two versions (besides the ones which can be attributed to censorship and therefore aren’t worth discussing) are a side effect of the structure of how the story is told - there’s barely anything changed arbitrarily. Aside from having a cold opening, the drama sticks to a very linear version of the story, and I think for a TV show or film, that’s probably the best way to do it. We see everything, we get shocked and tricked and betrayed and surprised along with the characters, we feel the biggest impact at the climactic scenes having experienced all the build-up. The novel on the other hand is not only much more non-linear in WHEN we learn bits and pieces of information, but that information is also obfuscated under wei wuxian’s multiple layers of Unreliable Narratoritis, which are as follows: 1) difficulty remembering things because of personality/avoiding painful memories/actual memory loss, 2) No Homo Goggles still on, and 3) a wry sense of humor that makes the reader unsure of how much they can trust his attitude toward things, especially near the beginning. The experience of reading is a puzzle the reader has to mentally piece together through all of the above listed camouflage, and the puzzle itself is a three-sided mystery: One - How Bad of a guy was Wei WuXian really, and how exactly did all the bad stuff in his life go down; Two - wangxian epic pride & prejudice gambits; Three - political murder mystery. (I love stories like this btw... though I fully admit I’m glad I watched first this time bc it might have taken me a long time to tackle otherwise.) Because of this, where the drama wants to pull you in and submerge you in all the most potent emotional parts, the novel in direct contrast deliberately side-steps around these things and asks that you hurt yourself by filling in the blanks. In fact the more intense emotions and painful memories involved, whether it be his relationship with jiang yanli, his DEATH, the darkest days of war times etc, the more the novel evasively withholds details. I actually really like both styles of storytelling but each one is obviously way better suited to its medium. ANYWAY.... THATS BASICALLY WHERE MY BRAINS AT WHILE IM READING GAY SWORD WIZARD BOOKS

- The extras are so saturated with domestic married bliss that it’s a good thing I stopped taking pictures because I’d just take a picture of every page. this is too much for me to take... I did jump the gun a few times and read a few fanfics while I was still mid-read of the book (I tried to hold out but alas I am mortal) and at one point after finishing I was like “wow what fic was it in where lwj says something cute and wwx kisses him in public but they’re in the corner of the restaurant so no one really sees... OH NO WAIT that was actually in there.” and ... and that’s the LEAST OF IT... *stares into the distance* theyre married wow

- I ofc couldn’t help but see a few vague blogs beforehand so honestly I was braced for something like, wildly ooc for the sake of porn to happen in the extras... I definitely appreciate how the incense burner porn interludes could be uhhh a lot for many people and not my personal cup of tea in terms of smut however [here follows the words of a poisonous frog who has dwelt her whole life in the rainforests of BL] the concept is also surprisingly SWEET SDFLKJF like wwx sees lan wangji’s darkest mixed-up violent teenage fantasies and he’s just like aww babe you had a crush on me!! just... good for them

- I swear I’m not gonna rehash every cute married thing they do but wei wuxian grading papers in the tub........................rEALLY GOT ME

- I want to Draw - ok thats enough if I keep going I’ll just write “wei wuxian grading papers in the tub” seven more times probably

#mdzs readthru #this obviously has many spoilers

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cutmyhairabovemyjaw · 5 years

Text

Heaven and Hell Bound - Tommy Shelby ~ Part 5

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Hi Guys. Thank you so much for the love and comments, they truly brighten my day. During this part I decided to include some reference pictures of how I envision the clothing during certain scenes in this chapter. Let me know how you feel about these and if you’d like to see more or less of them.

After this part there will be one more chapter set during the war before we move into Birmingham which will loosely follow Season 1 of the show. I’ve been thinking of trying out requests for one-shots with different characters from the show and others. Let me know if you’d be interested in that :) Hope you enjoy reading part 5 and again, any feedback is most welcome. <3 <3.

Tags:

@namelesslosers

Part 5 - The Dance

Y/N’s POV

It had been a month since Tommy was brought to the hospital, a month since I heard his screams, a month since I felt his kiss. And there had not been a single night in which my head was not stormed by thoughts of him. I craved his touch, his smile, his caress. I had written him quickly, just as he had asked. We talked of the mundane, of the gruesome, of the merry. My diary was now filled with sketches he’d drawn and photos he’d sent. Most recently, however, he had requested that I send through one of my nurses ribbons. I was puzzled as to why he would wish for something as plain and simple as this.

“My dearest Y/N,

Please forgive my selfishness as, yet again, I ask for a piece of you. Whilst your photo sits forever in my pocket, I must find some rare time to pause and peacefully admire it. I noticed on my last hospital visit that all the nurses wear white ribbons somewhere on their person. I have had the pleasure of seeing you wear it in your hair and around your delicate wrist. I ask because many soldiers whose lovers volunteer as nurses, tie this ribbon in with the shoelaces on their boots. The idea is that as we soldiers look down at our feet and into the hell we may soon occupy, an angel stops us on our way. Perhaps you are not my lover yet but you are my angel. The Christmas Ball ever approaches. I believe the invitations shall arrive within the next week. I look forward to seeing you there. If you get invited that is. Perhaps the goblin matron of yours wants you all to herself.

Sincerely,

Your Tommy.”

His angel. That’s what he called me. I still believe that my eyes were deceiving me as I read and continued to re-read those words. I sent one away at once. If I could supply any hope or relief in his darkest times, I would gladly do so. Anything to see that stupid perfect smile of his. He was right about the invitations. In fact they arrived the following morning. And when they did, we all got very excited, perhaps Rosaline a little too much.

We sat upon our hill, the freshly delivered mail buzzing in our hands. The air seemed sweeter and the sun brighter as everyone in the hospital radiated excitement as the beautiful red envelopes graced the grey and brown hospital. It seems this year the higher ups have decided to use the annual Christmas ceasefire to up morale. It was nice to see some smiles around here. “You ready?” Ro asks me, her smile wider than before, if that were even possible. I look to her and nod, my eyes wide and ready. Ro tears into the envelope, erratically pulling and tearing, turning the once solid paper into confetti shreds. I laugh before carefully peeling the seal back, trying to preserve the item as best I can, knowing I will want it in it’s best condition for my diary. We simultaneously pull out the letter and read the message.

“Dear service Men and Women,

It is with great pleasure that we invite you to the 1916 Allied Christmas Ball. As a reward for bravely fighting for your king you will enjoy a night of dancing, singing and drinking followed by the second day of the two-day cease fire. Provisions have been provided by the Crown and the public. Formal uniform is expected.

God Save The King.”

I jump as from beside me I hear Ro let out a loud holler of joy and enthusiasm. I laugh and join her as we cheer into the sky. “You know what this means Y/N?” She leans forward, eyes wild. “Oh boy” I say in preparation for her explosion of joy, knowing what is to come next. “Dress up time!” We hoot and holler once more, taking full advantage of this moment. We burst into laughter. Whilst I had grown up on rural farm land with little time for glitz and glam, Rosaline was born into a family which lay on the wealthier side of things. Whilst she rebelled against many aspects of it, she was infatuated with fashion and beauty. One of our many post-war dreams was to attend the most extravagant regal event and cause havoc whilst donning dazzlingly expensive gowns. Whilst this wasn’t exactly that, Ro would make it work. “I’m going to give Tommy the most beautiful date of them all!” She declares, like a Queen to her kingdom. I laugh, the alien feeling of my cheeks hurting from smiling returning for the first time since the war began. She pulls me to my feet and begins to twirl me around, a horrible version of ballroom dancing does ensue. “You two will dance into the night, twirling, giggling, and drinking the whole way through. Before he finally seals the night with true-love's kiss” She puckers her lips out comically. I smash by hand against her mouth and she slobbers on my palm. “ Oh Jesus Ro gross.” I wipe my spit covered hand against my apron. “And then,” she continues, my anxieties growing, fearing what words may following next, “He fucks you well into the night as you howl his name down-” This time I firmly plant my hand over her lips, silencing her ridiculous statement. “Shut the fuck up Ro” I shout-whisper to her, my eyes wide and a blush rampant on my cheeks. I remove my hand, letting out the wild laughter Rosaline had produced. I sigh, shaking my head in shame trying to ignore all of the horrified looks the other nurses were giving us. I let out a small chuckle. “You’re ridiculous you know. Completely and utterly ridiculous.” I say, every word I utter is followed by a small jab to her stomach with my finger, using her ticklish nature to my advantage. “Ok! Ok! I’m sorry,” she surrenders to my actions, “It’s true though”. I simply shake my head once more. Of course I’d had my fair share of intimate thoughts of Tommy, but it was nothing more than a fantasy. Perhaps he shared these thoughts. Perhaps he wished to enact them. Fuck what am I thinking. He might not even dance with me… I hope he does. “Well come on Y/N. We’ve only got a week to prepare so let’s go!” She pulls me out of my train of thought both with her words and her hand which now drags me towards the hospital tent. I still have not decided upon how I feel about the Christmas Ball. Part of me dreads it with my whole existence whilst the other has never been more excited about anything.

The first day of the cease fire had dawned. The peace was unfamiliar, almost unsettling as opposed to the normalised violence of every other day. And with it, the cease fire brought the dreaded Christmas Ball. The nurses gossiped amongst themselves, sharing around what little makeup and products they had managed to keep. Practically every second word that were freed from Rosaline’s brain had something to do with the ball or the dressing up. I was happy for her. She deserved to be happy and play fashion, not to encounter death and sadness on the daily.

Rosaline had already gotten herself ready. She radiated perfect beauty as her red lipstick and black mascara accentuated her doe-eyed complexion. Her ginger hair flowing by her waist as opposed to the tight bun it normally found itself in. As we stood in front of her small mirror, the juxtaposition of complete beauty and myself was accentuated. I wallowed in my gloomy insecurity, looking down to avoid the striking gaze of the mirror. How was I supposed to compare to someone like Ro. How was I supposed to impress someone like Tommy. I felt two small warm hands guide me out of the depths of my brain as Rosaline now held my face. “Y/N listen to me hey? Just listen. When you guys first saw each other you stood still, blown away by each others beauty. And guess what you both looked like? You were in your uniform, you were sweaty and covered in all kinds of gross shit like vomit and blood. And Tommy? He’d just dragged John out of a tunnel so he was covered in bloody dirt and muck and was the most dishevelled we’ll probably ever see him. You guys fell in love while kinda looking like shit.” We laugh, I begin to understand what she’s saying. She continues on, smiling proud, knowing she’d won me over, “He’s going to think you’re absolutely beautiful, ok? Hell everyone’s going to think that. We’ll walk into that ball, arms locked together and stun them into silence. Perhaps a few may even cry,” she proclaims rather melodramatically. I smile, rolling my eyes at her antics. I turn to hug her, grateful for her love. She sits me down in a nearby chair. “Now come on, we’ll miss the bloody thing if we take much longer.” Perhaps he will find me beautiful.

Tommy’s POV

I stand in front of the dirty, sorry excuse we have for a mirror, fiddling with my tie and the buckles on my sleeves. I try, to no avail, to slick my hair back, push it to the side, I try everything to make it decent. Frustration fills me as I wipe my hands down my face. “Fucking fuck it” I exhale. What is she gonna think of the bloody mess that I am. I slam my hat down onto my head, sitting on my bunk to begin to tie my boots. That’s when I see it once more. Y/N’s ribbon. I take it gently between my fingers, closing my eyes and remembering her. I shall not ruin a night that could be filled with her smile, her touch, her eyes, with my silly insecurities. I hear the tent flap bustling as it is pushed open. I look up to see Arthur and John, dressed in the same garb as myself. “Tommy, they are uh, they’ve given the order to start heading off” he says kindly, holding his cap, fidgeting with his fingers. I blink slowly, nodding whilst looking to the ground. I wave one hand, gesturing to them that I’ll catch up. They look to each other, reading the worry written on my face. John moves to sit next to me putting his hand on my shoulder. “Tommy,” he says, the toothpick bouncing between his teeth and lips, “look mate, everything’s gonna be fine. You look fucking ugly as normal.” He laughs, I shoved his shoulder. “Come on now John Boy, tell him the truth” Arthur smiles at his younger brothers. “You look great Tom and she’s gonna look beautiful. So if you don’t get your sorry ass out there, every other fucking guy’s gonna dance with her. And we can’t have that now can we now Arthur”, “No John, course we can’t have that. Plus,” Arthur continues, a smugness tugging at his tongue, “What use would we have for this otherwise?” He pulls out a flask, whiskey no doubt dancing in the bottle. “Now come on, drink up, the Shelby brothers have got some work to do” he proclaims. I stand and laugh. I’d spent the last week dreaming of how this night will go. How’d she look. How’d we dance, drink and smoke. Perhaps even get close. Oh Y/N, what are you doing to me.

Y/N’s POV

An hour later we stand in front of the mirror once more, this time, surprisingly happy thoughts made their way through my mind. Our formal attire projected elegance as our normal uniform paled in comparison. It was clean, shapely, and flattering. Whilst the veil was slightly uncomfortable I had a plan for that. Once everyone had gotten drunk of booze and dancing, no one would pay any mind to a missing veil or two. Rosaline had given me very similar makeup to hers, carving stark black lines around my eyes, and a scarlet scenery to the hills and crests of my lips. If the notion of the fighting starting up again in two days was not present, perhaps truly good fun could be had, and true happiness could be felt. I stop myself from dwelling on this, everyday could be our last, and if my last involves dancing and Tommy that’s fine by me. “Ladies start filling through to the tent please!” Rosaline and I turn to the source of the noise, a high ranking soldier gives the order. A wave of cheering pours out from the nurses. A smile breaks onto my face. “Well come on then slow poke!” Ro runs forward, dragging me by my hand. “Wait wait wait! I have something for Tommy.” I run back, reaching into my diary, pulling out the small origami horse I had made for him. Quickly, I place it in my pocket before Rosaline’s beady eyes could ask any questions. “Ok. Let’s do this”. We loop our arms together. Our heads high. Stepping in time. We will take on the world, or at least the dance floor.

(Y/N’s POV on left, Tommy’s bumped to the right)

I finally catch a glimpse of the massive white tent which would soon house many a drunkard soldier and stumbling nurse. It seems they collected every light source from every bunk as the scene was set alight with beautiful bulbs and strings. It reminded me of one of those fancy christmas trees I would ogle at in shop windows. The music filled my ears, as did the tapping of shoes, and harmonized singing. A makeshift bar had been set up, tables and chairs too. My heart swells with excitement as Ro and I beam with joy. I hadn’t spotted Tommy yet, and it may yet be a task to do so as more and more people crowd in.

“Oi Oi!” Arthur yells as we enter the large tent. “It’s a fucking riot in here ain’t it” John speaks, before spitting on the floor. I watch as the dancing erupts onto the floor, amused by the singing antics of the already drunk. “Look at some of the birds in here mate. You’d have to pay a pretty penny to get with one of them back in Small Heath.” Arthur drools over the women, the party letting out the beast in some of them. “Well boys,” I begin, lighting my cigarette, “Go get drunk, get into as many fights as you can and go for any woman you like. Just not mine.” John whoops and claps, “Thatta Boy Tommy. Now John Boy, we’ve got some work to do.” They walk off, leaving me to myself.

“This is amazing Y/N! Have you seen some of the blokes in here?” Rosaline exclaims to me. Turns out her lover Edward hadn’t died, rather he’d being fucking their resident nurse over there. Nothing motivates Rosaline quite like revenge with a side of free drink. “Go have fun Ro. You deserve it.” I spur her on, knowing she ached for some fun and freedom. “You sure you’ll be ok?” I nod in response. “Now go you bloody minx, go!” I push her towards the group of dancing soldiers. I laugh and make my way to the bar. Besides I had a mission of my own.

Find Tommy.

Find Y/N. That’s what I had to do. I walk through the dance floor, noticing her friend Rosaline tearing up a storm. Yet my Y/N was not with her. Come on Y/N. I kept walking making my way to the rudimentary bar. Please be there.

I sat at the bar, not yet finding Thomas. Perhaps he’d been dancing. I smile at the thought. The night had only begun, I mustn't worry now. I begin to make my way over to the dancing circle. Come on Tommy, where are you?

3rd Person POV

Little did they know at this point that they had both been looking for each other.

Little did they know they were headed straight for one another.

In a parting of the crowds filled with dancing drunks, they saw each other.

Their eyes meeting, just as they had that fateful first day.

He looked unbelievably handsome.

She was breathtakingly beautiful.

They swam in each other’s eyes.

Silence filled their ears.

They peered each other up and down, taking in their elegant costume.

Neither of their feet moved.

For all one knows their hearts were beating too fast, or perhaps not beating at all.

Instead she waved.

A small flick of the fingers and a smile.

He laughs and returns the gesture.

As they walk to each other, the same thought plagues their minds.

Maybe tonight I’ll tell him.

Maybe tonight I’ll tell her.

Y/N’s POV.

We now stand face to face, awe spread across my cheeks. He looks at me with the biggest smile I’ve seen painting his profile. “Hello Sergeant Major Thomas Shelby”, I courtesy, deciding to play into this royal fantasy that our outfits created. “Why, you look ravishing Sister Y/N L/N”, he bows, taking one of my hands and places a gentle kiss on it. “Fuck off Tom”, we both laugh, he extends his arm for me to take hold of. I gladly do so. We wander together this time to the bar, taking a seat on the crates that had been scrounged together. “Two Whiskeys please” Tommy orders, leaning his elbow on the table. “So, I see that Rosaline is quite the dancer.” We look out, watching her as she flows from soldier to soldier, her skirt twirling and her hair flowing. “Oh yeah. I feel bad for any other girl that even attempts to get on that dance floor.” I respond, proud of my best friend and she wraps all those boys around her finger. “And what about you Y/N, do you dance?” he asks, grabbing his glass of now delivered whiskey as I do the same. I leaned forward and new wave of air taking over me, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He smirks, playfully scoffing. “Well then,” He downs his whole glass, slamming it on the table before standing up, offering a hand to me. I following his actions, chugging my drink before hammering my glass down, taking his hand. “Let’s put you to the test then hey?”

We danced and danced and danced. We danced wildly, we danced passionately, we danced carefully. My head was now rested upon his shoulder as we swayed in each other’s arms. Our eyes rest closed, not a care in the world. I feel the vibrations in his chest as he hums along to the music. The party had well and truly died down. People had either gone back to their bunks, had collapsed on the floor or were savouring the last dance. Over the course of the night I had met Arthur and John, they were bruised and bleeding after just getting out of a fight of course, I’d drank way too much and blisters covered my feet from dancing. But I didn’t care. It was a perfect evening with Tommy. He called me beautiful, he’d kissed my cheek. I wonder if my face was now stained red, a blush had become a regular to cross my face. I looked up to admire him, his eyes still calm and closed. I had utterly and completely fallen for Thomas Shelby. But this thought brought more sadness with it than I anticipated. Tommy was a soldier, everyday could be his last. If he makes it home we live in different towns. We had completely foreign lives back in England. I worry that the intensity of the war had amplified our feelings, meaning outside of the fighting, there would be none. I fear I care for him more than he cares for me. I squeeze him tight, not ever wanting to let go. He opens his eyes and squeezes back, looking down to me worried. “You ok pretty girl?” He asks letting go of my hand and waist and instead, places his hands on my cheeks. I meet his blue-sky eyes and sigh into his touch, resting my hand on top of his. “I’m ok, just worrying about silly future stuff.” He laughs, “Silly future stuff hey? Don’t worry about that hey, just enjoy right now. That’s what they teach you down in the tunnels. Think about living now, in this very minute, the soldier’s minute. Just you and me hey?” I nodded timidly, his beauty still making me shy. We dance for a few moments more, savouring every touch and every look.

“Y/N?” I hear Rosaline call from behind me, a slight slur to her words. I turn to see her and a soldier practically holding each other up. “Me and this Noah here are heading back to our bunk. So uh...you might wanna find somewhere else to sleep…” They giggle amongst themselves. I roll my eyes, both happy she’s having fun, but not so happy about sleeping someplace else. “Play nice Rosaline. Now go on, have fun,” they cheer and smile to each other before turning around and stumbling out. “And no fun on my bunk!” I add. “No promises!” She yells back. “Cheeky fucker” I whisper to Tom. He laughs in response. “So where will you go now?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. “Well I suppose one of the hospital bunks will probably be free…” I kick my feet against the ground, realising how uncomfortable it will be. “I uh, I might have a solution,” he begins, scratching the back of his head, “John and Arthur have both gone back to their girl’s rooms, therefore...Why not stay with me?” My eyes fly up to meet his, “Really!” He laughs at my excitement. “I-i mean if that’s ok with you. I don’t want to intrude”, I stammer on, embarrassed by my reaction. He leans his forehead on to mine, “Y/N?” I hum in response, “Shut up” he jests. I laugh trying to brush away awkwardness. “Now come on, before any other drunk offers you their bunk.”

We walk hand in hand, enjoying the silence all the way back to his bunk. As I enter the space I take in my surroundings. I notice the 3 small bunks, one for each brother. I watch Tommy sit on the furthest bunk and begin to take his boots off. I walk over to join him, analysing what trinkets lay on his table. I try to remember everything. A diary, papers, cigarettes and matches, a knife and photographs, many many photographs. I flick through them, observing a younger Tommy surrounded by his family. I attempt to match the names Thomas had given me to the faces in the photos. Ada, Polly, Finn. They looked happy... I hope my present would fit perfectly within the decor of his table. “Tommy,” I begin, turning towards him, my hands clasped behind me to try and hide my nervousness. He was now wearing only his sleep shirt, and his trousers. He meets my eyes but I can’t help but look him up and down. He steps towards me, nodding for me to continue. “I have a Christmas present for you.” His eyes widen, a confused smile tugs on his lips. “A Christmas present?” I nod, now excited. “Sit down and close your eyes” I order, pulling him back to the bed. I sit next to him, waiting for him to do the same. “Now stop looking at me and close your eyes.” He leans forward, still experiencing the waves of alcohol “You’re so pretty tho” he drags out the last syllable. “Tommy close your eyes and put your hands out” He still leans towards me, “Now”. He huffs and finally does so. I gently pull out the origami horse from my pocket, laying it in his hands. I watch his fingers jolt slightly at the feeling. “Ok, now you can open.” His eyes open, yet he sits silently, taking the horse in his fingers, examining it closer.

I can’t read the expression on his face and I begin to worry. “I’m sorry, I know it’s stupid I shouldn’t have-” He cuts me off. But not with his words. With his lips. My eyes stare wide, shocked at the action before I melt into the kiss. It’s perfect. It’s everything Rosaline describes from her romance book. It’s everything my dreams had wished for. After what feels like hours, we pull apart. “Thank you Y/N. I-i I don’t even know what to say.” Thomas speaks quietly, a loving softness to his voice. “You’re welcome Tommy. It’s a thank you for all that you’ve done for me.” He places it upon his desk, admiring it for the moment. “Would you mind if we lay down...together” He asks, his eyes pleading for a yes. I can’t seem to form words at this point. Instead I simply nod. We get comfortable, I removed my shoes and veil before laying beside him. He wraps his arms around me as my head rests upon his chest. “Y/N? Can you promise me something?” I lift my head, noticing the vulnerability wobbling his words. “Anything Tommy”. “Promise me that even after this fighting is done, we will stay together and that we will always find each other. Even if we are separated by a world and a half?” I raise my hand, extending my pinky. “Pinky promise” I say, “Pinky promise”, he returns. Our fingers lock and my heart rests. “Now, come here”, he whispers, tilting my lips to his.

That night would never leave me. For how could one forget something as beautiful as that. We continued late into the night before finally falling asleep, bare in each others arms.

Just before the tidal wave of sleep took over us, one last thing was said.

“I think I’m in love with you Y/N.”

“I think I love you too Tommy.”

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cruelangelstheses · 4 years

Text

but now i’m all smiles

fandom: love live! rating: G characters: nico yazawa, nico yazawa’s parents words: 2.6k additional tags: parent-child relationship, parent death, pre-canon, angst with a happy ending, terminal illness, grief/mourning description: when nico is six years old, she realizes her father is dying. a/n: hi all!! i wrote this for the @kindergarden-zine and now i can post it!! i wanted to explore nico’s relationship with her father, based on her school idol diary entry in which it’s pretty much all but stated that her father is dead. i had her call him “papa” and her mom “mama” because it says in the footnotes of the translation that she calls him “papa” in the original text of the diary entry. thank u for reading, enjoy!! <3

read it on ao3

—

It’s almost dinnertime, and Nico Yazawa is on top of the world.

She rides atop her father’s broad shoulders, feeling his large, warm hands holding her body so she doesn’t fall. Her body bounces as they make their way down the hill from her preschool and tread down the sidewalk of their neighborhood. They’re lucky to live so close—from up here, Nico can already see her house very faintly in the distance. She can see everything from up here, it seems: the houses, the preschool, the trees, the bright orange sky. It’s a perfect day.

Underneath her, her father says, “Do you want to sing your theme song, Nico?”

He asks her this question every day after school, and Nico always has the same response. “Yes!”

Her father counts to three, and then they both start singing together, a song her father made up just for her. “Nico nii, nico nii, ni-co ni-co nii! Nico nii, nico nii, ni-co ni-co nii! Smiling cheerfully, with a ni-co ni-co nii! Smiling like the sun, with a ni-co ni-co nii!”

The song always puts a smile on her face, but she supposes that’s the whole point. Her name, “Nico,” means “smile,” and her father has always told her that he wants her to keep on smiling, even when things get hard. That’s why Nico tries her best to smile even when she scrapes her knee on the playground, or when she doesn’t want to clean her room, and if she ever has trouble smiling, she just sings her father’s song. It always puts her in a better mood, but the best time to sing it is when she’s on her father’s shoulders, coming back from a long day at school, knowing that dinner should be ready by the time they get home. With the warmth of the setting sun on her face and her fingers able to touch the tree branches, she feels like she can go anywhere, do anything, be anything.

After a few rounds, her father lets her off of his shoulders so that they can walk the rest of the way together. They play hopscotch on the sidewalk, even though there isn’t any drawn on the ground. They’ve done this so many times that Nico has memorized the pattern: three hops on one foot, and then it goes two feet, one foot, two feet, one foot, two feet, and repeat. Of course, the pattern can vary, but this is the one she and her father go by, all the way from the sidewalk up the driveway and into the house.

She happens to land on both feet right when she makes it inside, and she and her father both cheer. “That means today is a lucky day!” her father says excitedly as he bends down to give her a congratulatory hug.

Nico grins so wide she thinks her face might split. It’s a good day, a perfect day, a lucky day.

—

That night, Nico awakens to the sound of sirens.

They’re louder than they usually are when she hears them in the distance, and the concerning part is that they don’t get quieter, don’t seem to fade away. Confused and annoyed, Nico pulls herself out of bed and wanders over to the window, standing on her tiptoes so that she can see over the windowsill. Her heart nearly stops right there.

Sitting in the driveway of her home is an ambulance.

Nico knows what an ambulance is, and she knows what it means. Ambulance equals hospital. Ambulance equals someone in danger.

Nico pounds out of her bedroom and nearly trips on her way down the stairs from running so fast. Her mother is standing in the living room, watching as a few men who look sort of like doctors or nurses wheel her father out the front door on some sort of portable bed. He looks like he’s sleeping.

“Mama,” she says, her voice sounding small and squeaky, like a mouse. “Mama, what’s happening?”

Her mother, who looks stressed but not devastated, sighs and rubs her eye tiredly. “Papa is going to the hospital,” she says. “Something urgent came up that they have to fix, but he’ll be fine after that.” She gives Nico a tiny smile, but Nico doesn’t feel much better.

Her father has some sort of sickness, has had it for as long as she can remember. He’s been in and out of hospitals before, but they were always appointments, regular check-ups to make sure he was doing okay or to give him some special medicine. He hasn’t had to do that in a while, though. The doctors said he was going to be fine; they called it “remission.” This shouldn’t be happening.

“Hey,” her mother says, pointing to her own face and smiling with her teeth. “Nico nico nii, remember?”

Nico tries her best to smile back. “Ni-co ni-co nii,” she chants, but she can still feel the fear in her heart.

Her mother nods. “Nico nico nii,” she repeats. “Now go back to sleep, sweetie. We’ll go visit Papa tomorrow, since you don’t have school.”

Nico nods and trudges back up the stairs. As she reluctantly climbs into bed, she sings her father’s song to herself, picturing his radiant and smiling face, but part of her feels betrayed—not by him, necessarily, but by the world. Today was supposed to be a lucky day.

—

They find out the next day that Nico’s father is probably going to have to stay in the hospital for a bit longer than they thought he would. The disease has come back, the doctors say; they call it a “recurrence,” a relapse. Nico tries to put on a brave face in front of her father, but it doesn’t feel right. It feels like lying. She knows he wants her to keep on smiling, but it’s hard to smile when she thinks about how he’s not going to be waiting for her after preschool, not going to carry her on those big, strong shoulders of his. Still, she finds some solace in the knowledge that it’s just for a little while, and then he’ll be back on his feet, playing hopscotch with her like he always does, and everything in the world will be right again.

—

He isn’t getting better.

Days turn into weeks, which turn into even longer, and still her father hasn’t been discharged from the hospital. New problems keep popping up—“complications,” they say—so they have to keep giving him different treatments. Her mother’s insistence that he’ll come home soon has started eroding away, and Nico can see through her halfhearted reassurances. They visit him in the hospital all the time, and he certainly doesn’t look like he’s getting any better. In fact, every time they visit him, he almost seems worse. He’s more tired, and he doesn’t look as big or strong as he used to. He still smiles whenever he sees them, though, a real smile, and despite everything, visiting him helps Nico smile, too.

One day near the beginning of winter, Nico’s mother takes her to a nearby florist, an old family friend, to pick out some flowers for her father. They did this a few months ago for his birthday, but today isn’t a special day, she doesn’t think, so she’s not quite sure why they’re doing it again.

“Sometimes it’s just nice to have flowers,” her mother tells her as they walk through the door. The tinkling of the bell that signals their arrival is music to Nico’s tiny ears.

She has to look at everything. Only the prettiest, happiest of flowers will do for her father, and there are just so many types and arrangements for her to assess. Some of them are too boring; some are too fancy. She needs something that will make her father happy, and she needs something that will show him how happy he makes her.

After considering several different arrangements of various pinks and blues, Nico finds herself drawn to an arrangement she almost missed, sitting on a somewhat higher perch near the back of the store. It’s simple but bright: yellow lilies punctuated by soft purple sweet peas. The contrast mesmerizes her, reminding her of when she and her father would color together. He would tell her about primary colors and complementary colors, and she would find herself surprised by how certain colors look better next to a particular hue.

“This one,” she calls. “This one, Mama!”

As they pay for the flowers, the florist tells them that this arrangement is great for expressing joy, as well as gratitude for the good times. Nico prides herself on picking the perfect gift, as always.

She’s so excited at the prospect of giving her father such a wonderful bouquet, she almost forgets that they’re seeing him in the hospital. She almost forgets that he’s been looking more sickly with every visit. She almost forgets that he’s dying.

Granted, nobody’s ever told her that he’s dying, but Nico can tell. She’s six now. She’s not dumb. She knows that death happens when someone is very old or sick and that it means they won’t come back. She knows that it’s sad, and she knows that it’s happening to her father. She’s long since stopped asking him when he’s going to come home.

Her mother carries the flowers and leads her through the hallways to her father’s room, a route she’s terribly familiar with by now. She hates the strange smells and sounds of the hospital, and she hates looking at the weird machines that her father is hooked up to. But it’s worth it to see him.

Her father smiles as soon as they walk in. “Nico!” he says, but his voice is weak, and he doesn’t seem to be able to move much. “Come give me a hug.”

Her mother helps her climb up onto a nearby chair so that she can lean over and hug him without hurting him. He feels soft and bony, not at all like the strong arms she remembers. She wonders if he would even still be able to lift her.

“Papa, I picked out flowers for you,” she says, plopping down on the chair. Her mother smiles and places the vase on the windowsill. Nico concludes that she made the right choice—she likes the way they immediately brighten up the dull gray of a cloudy winter day.

Her father grins. “They look lovely. So beautiful and cheerful. Just like you.”

Nico smiles briefly, but she can’t stop thinking about something the florist said to her mother when she thought Nico couldn’t hear. Nowadays sweet peas are mostly just used because they’re pretty, she said, but in flower language, they mean “goodbye.” Nico glances back over at the flowers, thinking about the message they’re sending: Thank you for all the happy times and for being such a wonderful father. Goodbye. I’ll miss you.

Her father must be able to tell that she’s preoccupied—of course he can—because he reaches over and takes her small hand in his large one. “Now, now,” he says, “it’ll be alright. Just remember the song. We can sing it together.”

Nico forces herself to smile again. “Okay.”

Her father counts to three, and then they both start singing, much softer than they would when walking home from school. “Nico nii, nico nii, ni-co ni-co nii! Nico nii, nico nii, ni-co ni-co nii!”

Both of their voices are shaking, his likely from the sickness, hers probably because she’s trying not to cry. But she loves her father, and she knows that all he wants is for her to be happy, so she keeps going. “Smiling cheerfully, with a ni-co ni-co nii! Smiling like the sun, with a ni-co ni-co nii!”

When they finish, Nico glances out the window and is surprised to see the first few flakes of snow drifting down. “It’s snowing!”

Her father laughs. “Well, would you look at that? Our singing brought the first snow of the season.” He pats Nico on the shoulder. “When you get home, Nico, I want you to go out there and have fun in the snow. No, twice the fun. Enough fun for you and me both.”

Nico nods and hugs him again, burying her face into his neck so that he doesn’t have to see her cry.

—

Her father passes away the next day.

The months that follow are a whirlwind of sorrow and strangeness. Life seems to simultaneously stop in its tracks, yet move too fast at the same time. Life as Nico knows it has stopped, but this new life, this life-without-her-father, feels like it’s running off without her, leaving her in the dust like a train she just missed.

That winter is the hardest winter of her life. The cold and the grayness are a perfect mirror for the mood that permeates the Yazawa household. No matter how much she reminds herself to keep smiling, no matter how many times she sings her theme song, no matter how many good memories she replays in her mind, the world still feels muted, the colors drained, the air freezing without the warmth of her father’s arms or smile. Even on days when the sun shines, it feels like it’s mocking them.

It’s over that lonely spring break, when it’s still too cold outside to properly be called “spring,” that Nico discovers idols. She’d known about them before, but she never really knew what they did, never really took an interest. Now, though, with nothing to do for a week and little motivation to do much of anything, Nico finds herself watching idol performances on television, fascinated by their perfect choreography, their matching outfits, their cheerful harmonies.

What really gets her, though, is the audience’s reactions. They yell so loudly that Nico wonders how their lungs don’t give out, waving multicolored lightsticks and sometimes shouting different phrases in unison. At the end of a performance, when the idols say their goodbyes and tell the crowd how much they love them, the fans cheer and even cry in happiness, and that’s when it hits her: a desire unlike any she’s ever experienced. A desire to share in that moment. A desire to make people happy.

Now that she thinks about it, becoming an idol seems obvious. It feels like her father has been preparing her for it all along by singing along with her and teaching her the importance of spreading happiness.

She remembers the song she’s been singing all her life. It was meant to make her smile, but maybe it can make others smile, too.

—

On the first day of elementary school, Nico stands in front of the mirror in her room, practicing her idol moves. She’s wearing an adorable pink skirt, her hair ties look like cherries, and her backpack is shaped like a bunny rabbit. Nico bends down both of her middle and ring fingers so that only her pinkies, pointer fingers, and thumbs are sticking out. “Ni-co ni-co nii!” she cheers, putting her hands up and smiling widely. It’s going to be a perfect day, maybe even a lucky day.

It’s still hard without her father, and she has a feeling that it’s going to be hard for a long time. But he wanted her to keep smiling, and that’s what she’s going to do.

“Nico!” her mother says as she leans up against the doorway. “Let me take a picture of you outside on your first day of elementary school!”

So they both head out the front door and slip their shoes on. Her mother stands in the yard and holds up her camera. “Smile!”

Nico strikes the same pose she was practicing in the mirror. Thank you, Papa, she thinks, and as she sends her love up to the heavens, Nico Yazawa, future number one idol in the universe, flashes a winning grin and sings, “Ni-co ni-co nii!”

#love live!#nico yazawa #love live school idol project #love live school idol festival #llsif #llsip #love live! fanfic #my fics

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keepyourpantsongohan · 5 years

Text

Operation Scary Date

A collaboration by @sloaners and myself for Sloaners’ Disastrous Discord’s spring event, based on the Terribly Romantic Prompt, “[Character] gets cursed by a ridiculous artifact and the cure is not much better with Love Epiphany.” Art by sloaners, writing by keepyourpantsongohan.

YOU MATCHED WITH TOBI ON TUESDAY.

Tobi: cum 2 my castle tonite

Yamato: Hello to you too. Can I ask about the pictures? It’s hard to see what you look like.

Tobi: ull see what i look like soon enough

Yamato: You’re kinda weird. Lucky I like that. Where do you live?

Tobi: the woods

Yamato: I’m going to bet you don’t get a lot of matches on here, huh?

Tobi: why would u say that

—

YOU MATCHED WITH TOBI ON TUESDAY.

Tobi: cum 2 my castle tonite

Isobu: strong opener; convince me.

Tobi: i can be a beast in my chambers

Isobu: if I had a gold coin for every time I heard that, I could put myself through knight school again.

Tobi: im... tall? and we matched so u must think im good-looking

Isobu: fair. where am I supposed to find this castle, anyway?

Tobi: the woods in the north under the light of the full moons glare at dusk Isobu: that’s oddly specific Tobi: everyones a critic

—

YOU MATCHED WITH TOBI ON TUESDAY.

Tobi: cum 2 my castle tonite

Sukea: okay.

Tobi: wait what just like that?

Sukea: yeah. is that a problem?

Tobi: no i mean... good. this is all according to plan

Sukea: that’s kind of a weird thing to say.

Tobi: im new at this

Sukea: dating, or talking to other people?

Tobi: pass. north woods at 8?

Sukea: i might be late. there are black cats in those woods, and i’d hate to cross their paths.

Tobi: dont worry about time. we will have plenty of it soon

Sukea: do you always talk to your dates this way?

Tobi: pretty much

—

The third time Rin’s mace gets stuck in a tree branch, she wonders if it was entirely a good decision to let Kakashi make her Kindling profile.

There’s something to be said for quality screening, and the type of images one displays on their profile says a lot for who might be drawn to match. She didn’t even take a good look at her alias before they began their attempts to swipe through every enchanted being in their area. While Rin has always considered her taste in partners a little bit out there, it’s never been quite so literal before. One league back, she swears she heard the voice of a man yelling from above.

This better be a good date, Rin thinks, whacking some of the foliage out of her face.

“It helps if you go under instead of through,” says a voice behind her.

Startled, Rin turns around. “Tenzō?”

Partly obscured by the denseness of the woods, she sees her friend wave at her. “I didn’t expect to see anyone else here tonight.”

“Me either,” Rin says, bending and reaching out a hand to pull him forward. The forest seems happy to bend around him, twisting to make room for him to stand beside her. “You’re not Tobi, are you? There were a lot of masks and odd lighting choices.”

Tenzō’s eyebrows disappear under his face plate. “Tobi?”

“My date,” she explains.

He folds his arms, making a speculative noise. “Mine too,” Tenzō replies, narrowing his eyes.

“Sleaze, or trap?” Rin asks.

“What time is your date?”

“A quarter after the eighth hour.”

With a sigh, Tenzō declares, “Sleaze. My date’s at half past. A decent kidnapper would make sure his victims wouldn’t cross paths.”

Rin shrugs. “Doesn’t say much for his dating strategy either. How smart can you really be to meet up with so many dates at the same location? And who’d choose to be in these woods, anyway?”

“We’re here,” Tenzō points out with a dry look.

Grinning, Rin replies, “Yes, well, we think Kakashi’s handsome. No one ever said anything good about our taste.”

“I wonder how his date is going,” Tenzō muses, laughing. “Better than ours I hope.”

Rin’s smile fades as a heavy wind from the sky catches her attention. A great dragon bears down upon them, hurtling unevenly as if it has just grown its wings overnight. She raises her voice to be heard over the rustling trees. “Definitely better than ours. Is it just me or does the cloak on that dragon look familiar?”

“Trap,” says Tenzō apologetically, as a set of claws wrap around his waist.

—

“So… does he do this often?” Kakashi asks, carefully balancing the next piece on top of his tower.

The creature responds with a, “Be quiet, brat,” from beneath his heavy pile of robes. Kakashi suspects the garment is mostly for show. Whoever’s underneath shifts their weight too much to be all that big. But then again, the dragon had caught him off-guard, so perhaps his instincts are a little off tonight.

“You know, I might’ve come upstairs anyway,” Kakashi tells him. “If he’d asked me nicely.”

When no response is given, Kakashi continues, stacking piece after jenga piece by himself.

“That’s traditionally how the date thing is done. First conversation, then we decide if we want to spend the night together. He must be very out of practice.”

His companion mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“We don’t need a chaperone,” Kakashi points out helpfully. “I promise. I’m a very respectful date… what did the other one call you? Kakuzu?”

His question is met with a groan of disapproval, which Kakashi takes to mean ‘yes.’ “Kakuzu,” he says, in the same reasonable voice he uses when tutoring his students, “You seem tired. Really, I’m fine here. Where would I go?”

He gestures to their surroundings. The single window has nothing below it but a moat, and there are no other points of entry. Kakashi’s thought of at least thirty plans of escape, and for twenty-nine and a half of them, he doesn’t like his odds.

“Listen, if it’s the money you’re worried about… I have some gold on me. It seems like we’ll be staying in tonight, anyway.”

Kakuzu’s posture shifts at the mention of payment. Bingo.

Kakashi throws his coin purse, and tries not to blink at the distinctly claw-like hands that grab it. His plans for observation go out the window with Kakuzu when he realizes his bodyguard is hoisting himself across the bricks with hundreds of thick grey tendrils attached to his body.

He sighs, and begins searching the tower.

If Kakashi had to guess the personality of the chamber’s owner based on his belongings, he wouldn’t know where to start. In the closet he finds at least twelve different shades of the same cape. Looking underneath the bed yields a startlingly life-like statue of a man cast half in black and half in white that Kakashi swears is winking at him. He moves onto the desk quickly after that.

The book he finds in it reads, in bold lettering, DO NOT TOUCH, which seems promising. There are dogs on the cover. That seems promising too.

Tenzō and Rin are probably laughing at me somewhere, he thinks, as he pulls it into his grasp.

The crash from the window is not nearly as disconcerting as the beam of blinding light that follows.

—

“That is not how you greet a date,” says Tenzō, affronted.

Kakashi gapes. “Tenzō? Rin? What are you doing here?”

Brushing himself off, Tenzō shrugs. “Being attacked by a dragon. Why are you here?”

“I’m on a date,” Kakashi explains. He looks at the cloaked figure still upturned on the floor. “With him, I think.”

Rin nudges Tobi with her boot. “You arranged a date with all three of us on the same night?”

Tenzō looks heavenward. “Is that really what we’re mad about?”

Rin and Kakashi look at each other, and then nod at Tenzō. “A little, yeah.”

“I, for one, would like to know who we’re dealing with,” Tenzō remarks, crouching down by their host’s face. He pulls a spade out from his robes, and prods him sharply in the side. When this elicits no response, Tenzō rolls the man over.

Two intakes of breath punctuate the motion. “Rin,” says Kakashi urgently.

“I didn’t know either,” she replies. Shifting forward, Rin places a hand on Tenzō’s shoulder. “I’ll heal him.”

Tenzō rises, glancing between his two companions. The room is silent but for the sound of Rin's healing magic and the slight creaking of the door. “You know him?”

“It’s Obito,” says Kakashi.

“Obito, your old and dead teammate? That Obito?”

“I’m not dead,” says Obito, sitting up abruptly with the aid of Rin’s healing magic. Tenzō yelps.

Kakashi feels a little lightheaded. “We need to talk.”

—

Reconciled to the fact this evening is going to make no sense at all, Kakashi extends a hand to Obito. After a moment of hesitation, Obito takes it. There is a warmth between their fingertips that Kakashi takes to be familiarity, until suddenly, where there was empty space, there’s a small dog that Kakashi lunges to catch.

“Well hello, are you lost?” Kakashi asks, once the puppy is cradled in his arms. The Chow Chow merely tucks itself under Kakashi’s chin, which is a better answer than he could’ve expected.

Tenzō elbows him, careful not to jostle the animal. “What, you’re finally showing us what your powers are? Right here?”

Rin levels him with a doubtful look. “I have a hard time believing you could make infinite dogs and you limited yourself to eight. Konoha should be overrun with wagging tails by now.”

Shaking his head, Kakashi replies, “I didn’t make him appear.” He pauses, looking at Obito. “At least, I don’t think I did? Obito?”

Obito’s eyes narrow, and then widen. “You read my diary,” he says suddenly, with surprising indignation for a man who has confessed to running a magical terrorist ring.

“Diary?” Kakashi repeats, adjusting his grip on the dog. When his fingers touch, there’s twice as many puppies in his arms as before. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. This is the best date I’ve ever been on.”

Grabbing the book still lying open upon his desk, Obito shows them the same cover Kakashi had been inspecting earlier. “Anyone who lays a hand on this journal aside from me becomes overwhelmed by beasts!”

“They do look ferocious,” Rin teases, scratching the second dog behind the ears.

Obito eyes the scene, uncertain. “Curses aren’t an exact science! The book knows what it’s meant to do.”

Tenzō steps closer to Obito, considering him. “If you’re so worried about what’s going to happen to Kakashi, then take the curse off of him.”

Obito hesitates. “Wizards... are supposed to stand by their principles.”

This time, it’s Rin who steps closer, boxing Obito in. “You don’t know how to reverse the spell, do you?” she asks, trying not to laugh.

“Curses aren’t an exact science,” Obito says again, defensively.

A groan echoes throughout the room from his former teammates. “Why would you use an enchantment you don’t know how to break?” Kakashi asks, while the dogs try to climb up his shoulders. Three, now, as he reaches out to steady one with both hands.

“If it stumps me, it should stump all of my enemies.”

Tenzō puts his head in his hands. “I hate that he’s starting to make sense to me.”

“It happens sometimes,” Kakashi says sympathetically. The long-suffering tone is belied by the puppy licking his cheek above his mask.

—

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Obito asks, clearing his throat for the third time since they’ve arrived. “Doesn’t Minato-sensei have a family now? Should we really be bothering him with this kind of thing?”

“It’s not our fault you broke Kakashi,” Tenzō mutters under his breath. They’ve improvised leashes for the dogs out of some of his gardening supplies, and dogs, which now number four, are mostly under his rein, though they keep tugging forward to approach Kakashi. One dog remains in Kakashi’s hands, thankfully keeping them occupied.

Kakashi opens his mouth, perhaps to argue the point of this curse being so terrible. However, whatever he is about to say is interrupted by the door opening to reveal a blond man in robes that look they belong more at a discotheque than at a ritual.

“So, what brings you kids here?” Minato asks, smiling broadly. “It’s unlike you to come for a visit unannounced.”

Kakashi and Rin shuffle aside so their final companion is clearly visible. “Obito?” Minato asks, gaping.

—

“That is quite the problem,” Minato muses, a hand at his chin. “It’s not a spell I’ve ever heard of before. And you have absolutely no idea how to counter it?”

Eyes turn to Obito once more, and he shakes his head. Kakashi sighs. “We were hoping you would know, sensei.”

“I know a few general counter-curses, but I suspect they won’t help in this situation. They’re for less powerful spells, like warts, or being turned into a frog. That second one’s surprisingly common, you know.”

Rin’s brow furrows. “Then there’s nothing we can do? Kakashi’s going to need to use his hands at some point.”

“I didn’t say that,” says Minato, with a knowing smile. “It’s common for some magical beings to cancel out a spell by using one that uses the same underlying magic. So in this case, it’s possible for us to free Kakashi by finding a curse of equal measure. Did you know that my teleportation magic is derivative of a curse?”

“Isn’t dealing with unfamiliar curse magic what brought us here in the first place?” Tenzō asks.

Minato tilts the brim of his hat. “It all depends on the strength of the spell Obito used. If he used a spell that’s stronger than my curse, then we’ll have to look for another answer.”

—

“And a second curse was supposed to have helped?” gripes Kakashi, clutching his forehead. “Now I can’t control where I go! This can’t be good for the dogs.”

“Well, there’s one other solution to your predicament,” says Minato, with a pensive gaze. “True love’s kiss.”

Kakashi looks pointedly at the ceiling. “If I were in love, why would I be on a dating app?” he asks, aware of four separate gazes on him. Well, eight, if he counts the dogs.

Minato shrugs, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m not saying you are, I’m just saying that it’s a method to break a curse.”

“Have you ever tried it?” Obito asks skeptically.

With a pointed look, Minato rejoins, “I usually memorize the counter-curse before I try out a new spell, Obito.” The younger man reddens, and glances around the room like the criticism might be directed at someone else. Minato stifles a laugh.

“You should try, Kakashi,” Rin says decidedly. “It’s better than not doing anything.”

Kakashi makes a startled noise. “Who are you suggesting I kiss?”

She shrugs, and gestures between her, Tenzō, and Obito. “Take your pick.”

The range of expressions Kakashi manages to convey with only his eyes in that minute is thoroughly impressive. His eyes linger on each of them, before he shakes his head. “I’m not going to choose between my friends,” Kakashi says firmly.

Obito huffs. “Then I’ll do it,” he says, reaching for Kakashi. Kakashi looks at him in him in surprise. “I broke you, I should fix you,” Obito adds, with a wry look at Tenzō.

Kakashi sighs. “I suppose I can’t argue with that.” Flushing, he adds to Minato, “Can you…?” Dutifully, Minato turns around and covers his ears.

He lets Obito pull him closer, and adds to Rin and Tenzō, “Hold onto us. If this doesn’t work, I don’t want to end up stuck in Minato-sensei’s ceiling.”

And so, with Tenzō at his back, and Rin at Obito’s, Kakashi closes the gap between them. With his lips brushing Obito’s, he reaches blindly for one of the hands at his side, and smiles when nothing happens.

Then, the ground is pulled out from under them.

—

“What happened to Obito and Tenzō?” Kakashi asks, trying to peer around the pumpkin.

A very loud, familiar voice, echoes through the room. “I’m Tenzō,” says the pumpkin, and Kakashi and Rin nearly jump out of their skin.

Carefully, they make their way to the other side of him. Sure enough, as if he were a jack-o-lantern, there is a vague impression of their friend’s features, along with a tuft of brown hair. The small frown is so characteristic of Tenzō that for a moment, Kakashi feels more normal and at ease than he has all night. Unwittingly, he imagines Tenzō in his own garden, and tries not to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” says Tenzō, even though it is.

Rin reaches out to pat his orange cheek. “Well, you make a cuter pumpkin than Obito did a dragon.”

“Hey!” a muffled voice interjects, offended.

Rin steps back to inspect the scene, trying to place the source of the sound. “Obito? Are you in there too?”

“Not quite,” Kakashi observes. He gestures towards the wayward limbs and messy hair sticking out under Tenzō. “Are you alright under there, Obito?”

Obito groans. “I’ve been better,” is his flat reply.

“Is anyone going to try to reverse this spell?” Tenzō demands. “I can’t exactly double up on curses like this.”

“Obito’s lips might already be touching some part of you,” Rin says with a giggle.

Kakashi can’t hold back his smile. “I think it might need to be his face, Rin. Stay there, Tenzō,” says Kakashi, like Tenzō’s not occupying fifty percent of the room.

Pulling down his mask again, Kakashi aims his lips at what he hopes represents Tenzō’s head. Where he touches, it glows, and he can’t tell if it’s the magic or what it looks like for a pumpkin to blush. Through another burst of light, the rough texture of the pumpkin is replaced by Tenzō’s warm skin. Definitely blushing, Kakashi notes, as he hears newly-warped buckles and accessories from Tenzō’s stretched clothing hit the dungeon floor.

When Tenzō recovers his voice, he says, with a hint of orange still in his cheeks, “The first one of you to make a gardening joke is being left in the dungeon.”

TO BE CONTINUED....

#obito uchiha #kakashi hatake #rin nohara #yamato #yamato tenzo #kakayamaobirin #(you read that right folks)#if ur confused... GOOD #NO EXPLANATION REQUIRED #ayesha talks anime #sloaners #fanart #fanfiction #mine #long post #collaboration #operation scary date #discord

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theartoflovingthomashunt · 5 years

Text

The First Date

* * * The Art of Loving Thomas Hunt Fan Fiction Masterlist * * *

———

Characters: Alex (MC), Thomas Hunt

Setting: Alex and Thomas have recently decided to start a relationship but they are keeping it private for now. This story takes place after The Last Duchess party, but before the film’s release, so it takes place during the last chapter of Red Carpet Diaries Book 2.

*Note, the bar in this fic actually exists. If you live in the LA area, you should definitely check it out. I’ve never been there, but it looks amazing! -->Inspiration: Photo Post of Bar

Rating: PG

———

Alex just finished up a radio interview for a local news station. Interest in The Last Duchess had been growing ever since its release was publicly announced. Chazz could barely field all the requests that came in for Alex to promote The Last Duchess. The secret production led to a lot of last-minute press. Despite a few wonderful moments together the day after the party, Alex and Thomas had not found time for the proper date.

Once Alex was in her car heading home for the day, she took out her phone. Alex couldn’t help but smile as she pulled up the number she was looking for.

“Hello,” Thomas answered.

“Hi,” Alex replied. “I was hoping you might be free, tonight.”

“For you, I can make myself available,” Thomas responded.

“That is exactly what I was hoping to hear, Mr. Hunt,” Alex teased. “I was thinking we could try that dinner thing?”

“I could not think of a better way to spend an evening,” Thomas explained.

“Pick me up at 8?” Alex asked.

“I take it you have a place in mind?” Thomas questioned.

“I do,” Alex started.

“Care to share?” Thomas wondered.

“Nope,” Alex smiled to herself. “I think you will find it to your liking.”

“As long as you are there, I know I will,” Thomas agreed.

“Look who is already getting better at the romance thing,” Alex teased. “8 o'clock! Don’t be late.”

“As if I would ever be late,” Thomas stated. “I will be there at 8:00 and will attempt to wait patiently for you, as you so far seem incapable of being on time.”

“Being late would just prolong the time until I see you,” Alex admitted. “I’ll be on time, just be there.”

***

“8:04!” Thomas quipped as Alex got in the car. “I’m impressed.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Alex demanded.

Thomas wasted no time fulfilling Alex’s request. His lips were on hers, her mouth was warm and inviting. He let himself relax under her touch. After a few moments, Thomas pulled away. “I expect that satisfied your direction.”

“For now,” Alex smiled.

“Where to?” Thomas asked.

“Old Man Bar,” Alex smirked. “It’s in Culver City.”

Thomas looked at Alex. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“It’s not as out of the way as you would like, but it seemed fitting. And no, not because of the name!” Alex continued with a smile as she ran her fingers through his hair. Thomas’s face didn’t change. “It doesn’t seem like a place we would run into anyone who might see us, so we should have some privacy. Oh, and they have about two dozen types of Scotch on the menu.” Thomas smiled. “I thought that might be of interest to you.”

Thomas leaned over and kissed Alex softly. “You should have led with the scotch.”

***

Thomas and Alex enter the Old Man Bar. They both take a moment to look over the scene. The rustic bar was small and dimly lit. Beautiful stained glass windows adorned the outer walls. A fireplace warmed the other end of the room. Wood and leather surrounded them. Thomas's eyes landed on the bar stocked with row upon row of varied liquors. Luckily they had chosen a slow night. Only one other couple sat in a booth near the entrance. Thomas and Alex made their way wordlessly to a booth in the back.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Alex asked.

“I don’t understand that sentiment. Are you giving me a penny? Are my thoughts only worth a penny?” Thomas complained.

“Don’t overthink it,” Alex played. “What are your thoughts about this place?”

“It is a little less authentic than my typical haunts,” Thomas started. “However, I appreciate the attention to detail in setting the mood. It is quite tasteful.”

Alex smiled, “I’m sure the purveyors of this establishment will be pleased to know that the Great Thomas Hunt approves.”

“How did I do for our first proper date?” Alex questioned as she looked at him across the booth. His face was unreadable.

“As ever, you continue to astonish me,” Thomas answered with a slight smile in the corner of his lips.

“Good!” Alex smiled.

Alex and Thomas looked over the menus. Thomas, of course, went straight for the list of scotch. After they ordered, they turned their attention back to one another.

“So,” Alex began. “What is your favorite childhood memory?”

“What?” Thomas asked as he nosed his scotch savoring the pleasing aroma.

“Come on,” Alex pressed, lightly. “This is technically our first date, but it’s not like we don’t already know each other. You’ve never mentioned your childhood. I’m curious. What was young Thomas Hunt like?”

Thomas took a sip of his scotch, rolling it around in his mouth as he savored the taste. He narrowed his eyes on her.

“Fine, I’ll go first,” Alex decided. “When I was 4, my parents took me to the Iowa State Fair. It was the best day ever! We ate so much food, petted all sorts of animals, played games, went on rides, and of course, saw the famous butter cow. 600 pounds of butter! Like why is that a thing? I don’t know but it was AMAZING!”

“I am imaging 4-year-old you with pigtails and denim overalls,” Thomas smirked.

“It’s possible,” Alex grinned. “There may have also been a flower crown too.”

“Of course there was,” Thomas interjected. “Cowgirl boots too?”

“Maybe…” Alex admitted. “It was the first time I stood on a stage. There was a band playing. I had never heard them before, but I just walked up on the stage, not even thinking about what I was doing and asked if they could play me a song.”

“And what song did you request?” Thomas questioned.

“Only the greatest song ever, Baby Beluga,” Alex laughed.

Thomas choked momentarily on his scotch from laughing.

“I was 4,” Alex protested. “And it was Iowa!”

“That might be the best story I've ever heard,” Thomas teased.

“Don’t make fun or I won’t show you the picture the Des Moines Register took and published in the paper. It was on page 2! All of my friends were very jealous!” Alex said proudly.

“How could they not be,” Thomas laughed. Alex smiled slyly at him. “What?”

“You should laugh more. It looks good on you,” Alex replied.

“I will keep that in mind.” Thomas’s face returned to his stoic composure. “I suppose now I owe you a story.”

“It would only be fair,” Alex answered.

“As you wish,” Thomas complied, taking a deep breath. “This might not count as the best childhood memory, however, it is one that I hold dear. I have always been drawn to film and the dramatic arts. When I was 5, we were cleaning out my parent's garage and I found a box of cassette tapes. One of them was a recording of Orson Welles’ War of the Worlds from 1938. I didn’t know what it was, but I saw Orson and since that was my middle name, I thought it must be good. I played the tape and was instantly transported into another time and place. I felt excitement and fear, but also wonder. I was completely captivated. I listened to that tape hundreds of times over the years. It was my earliest inspiration. I have spent my life trying to capture that level of storytelling purity in my own work. It didn’t need over the top Hollywood noise and clutter. It didn't even need pictures. It stood on its own, simply because of the story and the talent and passion from those who brought it to life. It is my life’s greatest goal. I haven’t gotten it quite yet, but I will.”

Alex stared across the table at him at a loss for words.

“Sorry if that wasn’t as exciting as the Iowa Fair. I’m sure you can imagine, that even as a child, I was...different,” Thomas said, drinking his scotch, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“Thomas” Alex stammered. "You don’t know how incredible you are. I have no doubt that one day, a great filmmaker will tell his or her story, and when they do, they will share how it was you and one of your projects that inspired them to strive for greatness. Your work is a significant part of this city’s story.”

They sat wordlessly staring across the table at each other until their food had arrived. Their conversation shifted to upcoming events and the World Wide Premiere of The Last Duchess.

After savoring a delicious meal, Alex joined Thomas on his side of the booth to enjoy being a little closer to him.

“Is this okay?” She asked, hesitantly as she scooted next to him, letting her fingers graze his hand.

“You may be surprised to know that I am not overly fond of public displays of affection,” Thomas started, as Alex began moving away. “However, you somehow make it more bearable.” He let his fingers find their spot between hers as they held hands under the table.

“I’m glad you can withstand this torture,” Alex played, before continued. “But seriously, please let me know if you ever feel uncomfortable. I want us to be a team that supports one another, no matter what.”

“I want that too. Honestly, after you called me earlier, I was apprehensive about what tonight might bring. I tormented over how difficult moving forward might be. As I have told you, this is not my strong suit. I have little trouble writing and directing stories filled with deep connections and relationships, but I have never been notably comfortable with it in my personal life. Nevertheless, you find ways to make me feel contented.”

“I don’t expect big romantic gestures. I don’t need that. The only thing I need is you, just the way you are.” Alex kissed Thomas’s cheek.

“I am desperately afraid of dissatisfying you,” Thomas admitted.

“You could never disappoint me,” Alex reassured him. “We will figure us out, together.”

“I wish you knew the joy you bring to me.” Thomas kissed her forehead. He closed his eyes momentarily to commit the moment to memory. The way she looked, the way she smelled, and the pure happiness he felt.

“The feeling is mutual,” Alex replied, touching her hand to caress his face. Letting her thumb graze the side of his mouth where she knew a smile was hiding. Alex shifted closer to Thomas in the booth as he put her arm around her. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder, letting him rest his head on hers.

“How do you feel about dessert,” Alex questioned. “Maybe sharing something…”

“Anything,” Thomas started, feeling secure with Alex in his arms. “As long as I don’t have to share you.”

_ _ _

First Date Photo and another short fic from this night here.

———

Thomas Hunt Tags: @hopelessromantic1352 ; @alleksa16 ; @pinkcoloredmarshmallow ; @the-soot-sprite

#thomas hunt #thomas x mc #red carpet diaries #choices #pixelberry #rcd #alex hunt #fan fiction #the art of loving thomas hunt #taolth #orson welles #old man bar #red carpet diaries 2.5 #rcd 2.5 #war of the worlds

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phckingusername · 5 years

Text

Because I wimped out

Here is the story I deleted off ao3 but shorter. Waaaaaay shorter. More like a run down of the idea.

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Warnings: Rape and non con., Major character death.

Characters: Connor, Richard, Gavin, Hank, Amanda

Relationships: Connor& Richard &Hank, Richard/Gavin, Connor&Gavin

Other notes: Weird au, Connor and Richard are Marble God's, that turn "human", Hank is a farmer, Gavin is a starving artist literally.

Connor and Richard are God's carved out of Marble by their "Mother" Amanda. Both live in a heavenly garden. They are not allowed to leave. They are however unwanted and Amanda hates them. (Honestly I wrote some pretty good poems for this part) One night as she sleeps Connor takes Richard and runs away. "She plans to kill us." He tells his "little" brother. But once in the land of man they are no longer made of Marble stone. They are now ashamed of their Naked bodies. (Very biblical I guess)

So naked and covered in mud and leaves the huddle and cling to each other at the village market. This is where Gavin first See's their beauty. Being an artist he wants to immortalize them or more specifically Richard in his art. Not knowing they are already.

Rather than typing more out here's the haiku of Richard's first impression of Gavin.( In the first chapter the story was told in poems from nines pov like his diary almost.)

Man who dwells with Rats

Beauty hidden under dirt

Is he one of them?

Soon Hank who's son and wife both died of the same sickness shows kindness and compassion for the two naked siblings. Gavin is quite relieved the two are safe. Hank is a farmer, well was I guess, after his son's death the crops stopped growing. The two brothers quickly adopt Hank as their new Father and try to help with chores. Hank seems quite alright with them staying and calling him Father.

Gavin was left on the streets to die as a child and would have very nearly died. However a traveling poet/ Artist took him under his wing. Naming Gavin, and giving him a passion for art. Although the artist was very old and died late into Gavin's teen years. Gavin is his adult age in game now. He lives in a rundown home. Holes in the walls and rats crawling everywhere. He looks rough. Literally starving, he tries to sell his art and draw others for a living. He doesn't know much else.

Because Hank has no crops to eat or sell he is also starving. Connor and Richard try to help by making things to sell at the market. Richard has made wooden children's toys and heads to the market alone.

By this time it's winter. Richard has set up right across the way from Gavin. The two seem to have a quiet conversation via staring. Gavin lost so deeply in those steely blue eyes. Wanting nothing more than to hide the man away and draw every last inch of him. So that he may stare into those eyes forever. Richard doesn't feel so strongly about Gavin but is filled with innocent curiosity.

This is where things go down hill. Gavin isn't the only one who thinks Richard is breathtakingly beautiful. Three drunk men crowd and trap Richard before pulling him off to a more secluded area. Richard is strong but he also feels small despite his actual size. If he were a god still he'd have no problem pushing the men off him. But his flesh is man now. He is scared. He screams and begs but they show no sign of stopping. They rip off his clothes they touch him, they touch themselves.

Meanwhile Gavin hears Richards pleas for help. They break his heart, he knows all too well what is happening. He tries to tell himself not to get involved and stay out of trouble. But he can't let them take away what was taken from him all those years ago. Not to someone so pure. So he finally gets the courage to help. Knife in a white grip and angry. He slashes and stabs at the men. Giving them.......28 stab wounds! ( Sorry not sorry).

Richard is huddle in the fetal position body shaking and eyes shut tight. Gavin tries to soothe him enough to look at him. Telling him he's safe. "Hey you know me. I'm the man across the way." "The artist?" "Yeah, that's me." Finally Richard relaxes enough to walk over to Gavin's place for some new clothes and the promise of a warm fire. Richard is exhausted and allows Gavin to dress him. He soon falls asleep on Gavin's trash pile he calls a bed.

The next morning Gavin waits for his brother to show up. It's just before dawn when he sees Connor searching. Connor wakes Richard up and just bombards him with questions and fusses over him. Checking and turning Richard's head for injuries. Richard places a hand over Connor's mouth and only let's go when he's calmed down. Richard starts by introducing Gavin the tells Connor Gavin had saved him from 3 men. Richard tells all and the two share in their tears. Gavin seeing How angry and incredibly sad Connor is about this. Connor saying thing like I'm supposed to protect you... Gone with you... It's all my fault..ect. When Richard just flat out tells Connor to shut up. " You are not at fault for the sins of man." Gavin found that an odd phrase. Finally they get collected and Connor pulls Gavin into the tightest hug thanking him deeply for what he's done. Richard now properly expresses his thanks and wants to know how he can repay him. "Let me draw you." It was almost embarrassing how quickly he blurted it out. Richard says they are friends and Gavin gets all touched by it.

The two brothers walk home and crawl in bed with Hank. The two quite cold, they hug either side of the sleep man they call father. Back with Gavin. He pulls out the few sketches of Richard he had drawn of him while he slept. Gavin giddy about soon seeing him again for a proper portrait. He spends his new energy cleaning the house and himself up.(this was as far as I had written but here's the rest I had planned)

Connor tells Hank (at Richards request) about what happened and Hank freaks. Richard then tells them both for the first time that he will be going back to visit Gavin. Hank knows of him and doesn't think too highly of him. Gives off a bad vibe. People don't want to go near him in fear of being bitten. Although he has never actually bitten a person before. Nevertheless Richard goes (with Connor) to see Gavin as promised for a proper picture. Connor selling the things he made as Richard's toys were destroyed by the men. But also keeping a close eye on his brother. Gavin is a blushing mess but once he's in the zone he gets this really focused look on him. Richard finds himself entranced by the look and admires Gavin when he's like this. Gavin saved the eyes for last. "Richard, get really close I need to draw your eyes." Gavin says still focused but when he looks up he freezes. He can't seem to look away. Nines stares back for awhile before speaking up. Putting Gavin back on the task but blushing red all the way to the tips of his ears. Richard has never seen anyone blush before. He wants to see more of it.

Things go well for Connor as he seems to have more people skills. They finally have money to buy food for their starving father. Richard gives Gavin a few coins. Gavin shocked by this. However Connor and Richard don't seem to plan on forgetting about Gavin and what he did. They treat him like family.

Richard and Connor visit every day to sell things and for a picture. Gavin drawing Connor quite a few times. Noting how different the two are. Connor is as Richard described, Soft with eyes of Earth. Connor is always protective of his brother. Expression always Stern and harsh. It was incredible to see just how soft Connor was when he smiled. Gavin wanted to capture that. However Gavin spent most of his time drawing Richard. Page after page. Looking at them when Richard went home for the day. Gavin would hide away and hold the papers close to his chest. Heart fluttering as he spent countless hours looking through each one.

Spring has come and gone. Just on the cusp of summer. Richard has become just as obsessed with looking at Gavin as he is looking at him. When he's with Gavin he feels... Something different. A different kind of love. Content and happy to be with him and almost empty without him. Richard is perplexed and frustrated with these feelings he doesn't understand. Gavin notices that Richard is not his usual self one night. By this time Connor trust Richard is safe when with Gavin and doesn't always go with him. Richard went somewhat late at night. Gavin asks what's up and Richard honestly and openly explains how he's feeling and wants to know why. Gavin's hopes that what it sounds like is what it is but asks Richard to go deeper and describe how he feels when with Gavin. It's all quite poetic (remember Richard has this internal diary in the form of poems) Gavin kisses Richard when he's finished speaking. But right after Richard gets up and goes home in a rush.

When he gets home he hides himself away. Hank finds him as asks. He tells him Gavin kissed him and Hank calms his anger before jumping to conclusions. "And how do you feel about it?" Richard sniffles and rubs his wet eyes. "I really liked it. Is that ok?" He looks up at Hank. "Son, I don't know where you came from but what you're feeling, is love. Love is pure and innocent, the things you do with a loved one is not sinful, it will not make you dirty or tainted. Love is beautiful and it comes with many faces. For me love of different kinds looks like my wife, like my son Cole, like you and your brother. It's ok son."

Back with Gavin he's freaking out and yelling at himself just about pulling his hair out. Richard waits a few days to sort out his thoughts and think about what Hank said. Meanwhile Gavin is an emotional wreak.

One night as Gavin gazes at a portrait of Richard he hears a knock on the wall. Richard is there leaning through the window. "May I come in?" Gavin is relieved to see him. Once Richard is inside Gavin goes to apologise but his lips are claimed before he could. He practically melts. "Gavin, you are what love looks like to me. You, Connor, Hank. You are all the different faces of my love." He said holding Gavin. "I know not of the joys of the flesh. I want to experience this with you. I want us to make love." At this point Gavin's circuits are fried. But he finally responds "For now, I want to hold you tonight." And that's what they do. They hold each other. They whisper sweet nothings as they soothe each other into sleep. Gavin wants to hold Richard, feel him in his arms. Make sure he is real. Not just pencil on a page. Don't get him wrong Gavin really wants to make love with Richard. But he wants Richard to feel the softer, simpler form of intimacy. Hold hand and cuddle, spoon and give sweet kisses. Show him love, not lust. And Richard is all about it. Just adores it. Loves holding and being held. Then one night it happens. They make love. Naked bodies against each other. Hot sweat steams off of them in the cool night. Beautiful moans and whimpers. Hands grabbing and clawing. Broken up love letters and each other's names spilling off their lips. During and after there's just so much love.....

Everything seems to be going ok now. They all have food to eat and they have each other. The crops are growing again . But Hank isn't doing so well. He is sick. No matter what they do Hank doesn't seem to get any better. He is dieing. The two brothers hold and cuddle Hank in his death bed. By the time they wake up in the morning Hank is gone.

Both Connor and Richard go to Gavin to mourn. The last time he's seen the two cry was when they first met. He over hears them talking, discussing whether or not to go back to Amanda. To leave the land of man. But they can't, back at the garden they will be killed. "I do not want to go back to being made of stone. I don't want my body to feel cold. The flesh of man is weak and delicate, but it's warm and soft. I want to bleed. I want to live and die with man." Well fuck, Gavin fucked a God. He's not really sure how to feel about that, about the brothers. He is afraid.

Gavin is acting distant and nervous around Richard now in their alone time with each other. Richard doesn't understand why and it hurts. "Gavin, don't you love me?" I'm a RAT and he's a God. Gavin tells himself. And he tries to push Richard away. Fakes anger and hate towards Richard. Gavin breaks Richards heart and his own. Gavin is alone now. Richard cries as Connor tries to comfort him. He is depressed and doesn't leave the bed. Richard doesn't move, doesn't even talk to Connor anymore. Connor is lonely.

Gavin misses Richard. Misses the company of the two brothers. He doesn't want to live anymore. Life is without meaning now. He can't bare to think of Richard, to look at endless drawings and memories that come with it.

While Richard sleeps Connor makes a visit to Gavin. He is angry. Grabbing Gavin by his shirt and lifting him up against the wall. Asks him why? Why he would hurt his brother this way. "I thought you loved him?" "I do love him." "Then why did you make him Cry!!? Why has he stopped smiling? Stopped getting out of bed! Stopped talking to me!!!?" His grip tightens as tears start to fall from Connor's eyes. "Why did you break his heart!?" "I know your little secret. I know what you two are!!! You lied to me! You're Gods. And I'm not..... I'm not... Good enough. Even if we stayed together, I would die and he'd be alone again. I'm not worth all that pain.". "Gavin, love is what makes life worth living. We loved Hank and it hurt more than anything when he died. But I wouldn't trade anything for the love we felt together. Our Father gave us something nothing else in this world could. Gavin, you gave that to Richard and then you took it away. Give it back. Give his life meaning again." "Can man really do that for a God?" " No not man, you. It's you who can make that possible for him..... Please come with me. Come back to him." "I... I will." Connor hugs Gavin tightly when they hear voices outside. Gavin recognizes two of the men as the ones who assaulted Richard. The other must have died from Gavin's attack. The other three men with them must be friends of theirs. The five where headed towards Gavin's home. "Shit! Connor get out of here! Go home and don't let them see you!" Connor protests but Gavin gets him to leave.

Connor runs back to Richard waking him up and telling him Gavin needs help. He gets up instantly and the two head back to him. Only by the time they get there it's too late. ......

WARNING THIS IS REALLY BAD!

There's blood everywhere one of the men lay dead. But the other 4 are gone. They find Gavin. Naked. Raped then brutally murdered. Cut, stabbed, bruised, choked. The stream of tears still visible on his cheeks. (I'm really sorry)

------

Richard and Connor build a garden of their own deep in the forest. It's filled with so many beautiful flowers and trees. Lilacs and cherry blossoms, aspens and roses. A river stream and a small pond of fish. They burry Gavin and Hank next to each other. Richard places every drawing with Gavin. Connor stands over Hanks grave while Richard stands over Gavin's. "He loved you you know. That night. He was going to come back." "Why did he leave?" "He found out we were God's. And felt unworthy." Connor explained. The two stayed silent after that for some time. "Together?" "Together my brother. We'll all be together soon." The held hands still standing over the graves. Then, they turned to stone. Neither God or Man now. Merely marble statues. Pieces of art never to be seen by any man again. Tombstones for lost loved ones.

#dbh #detroit become human #my writing #dbh amanda #dbh connor #dbh richard #dbh nines #rk800 #rk900 #gavin reed #hank anderson #reed900 #rk brothers #detroit: become human #marble gods au

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jusdisslotus · 6 years

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Commandomal Callout #5: Diary of Tord: Pages 1-5: Patryk tried to copy Tord and Tord gets bullied

If you guys didn’t know, Commandomal also has a DeviantArt account named Creepypastajack and oh boy is it a mess. Her comic called “Diray of Tord” is a comic where she, as she states it-

“will be trying to make the storyline as accurate to Tord's situation as I can based on my gathered research so the truth about what happened to Tord can be affectively spread.“

Just as a little note, she links no sources as to where she got her info from. It’s all mostly very extreme speculations she’s had yet again. Anyway, lets get into it.

#1: From what I’m guessing, this is from how Patryk responded to the fans after he kept getting harassed and kept having his real name on google being associated with eddsworld. Are you trying to say he shouldn’t be mad at the fans for bugging him so much? Why are you portraying him as some sort of shady character when he has a clear and valid reason to be mad? I’ll get into this in #3,

#2: You contradict your own point by quoting what Tom said in his video addressing Tord and eddsworld and I think I trust Tom more considering he was actually involved in the eddsworld crew.

#3: What?? How did Patryk try to copy Tord? Is it because of how he left Eddsworld? He has every right to curse out the fans that harassed him and constantly sent him ship art (including porn) of him and Paul. And don’t tell me “They should’ve expected it” or “They didn’t say they didn’t like it.” (Because I’ve seen you use this argument before), DON’T HARRASS THE CREATORS OR USE THEIR FULL NAME. And when Patryk’s finally had enough and stood up for himself you’re just like “Well that wasn’t very civil of you :(” because you can’t handle the fact he stood up to people like you who write omorashi stories about THE ACTUAL PEOPLE.

#4: Accurate, huh? Tord lived in Norway and the rest of the gang lived in the UK how is this accurate?

#5: Sounds like some sort of fanfic. Again, they lived in DIFFERENT COUNTRIES.

#6: Where and why would Edd say this?

#7: Again, EVIDENCE, there is no evidence to be seen that these were actually things sent to Tord.

#8: Just a nitpick but you kind of portray Edd as an asshole, like all he cares about is Eddsworld and not about his friends. From what I’ve seen in your creepy stalker posts of Tord, Tord said that Edd was one of “his most trusted friends” You also compared their relationship to like a brotherhood of some sort do why do you portray him so terribly in this poorly drawn and written comic? :/

#9: If you’re trying to portray the pictures that were taken of Tord and Matt at McDonalds, it looks like you’re just warping what’s supposed to be quality time being they spent together into this stupid bullying conspiracy.

This is so overly dramatic.

#10: KIM AND KATYA WEREN’T EVEN REAL AND YOU CLAIM TO STRIVE FOR ACCURACY?

Oh boy, the next part is going to be a doozy, the next part is going to include her attempting to draw Tord’s attempted suicide! :D

Because that totally 100% happened! :D

#Commandomal #Creepypastajack #Callout #Tord #Edd #Tom #Matt #Eddsworld #Patryk #Comic #Conspiracy #Kim and Katya #Kim #Katya #Diary of Tord #Deviantart

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plaidstiel-wormstache · 6 years

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What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?

This is the last one for my Christmas Challenge, I hope you like it, cause I’m obsessed with this song. What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve sung by Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon-Levitt. I’ve worked in two other songs (Blueberry Hill & Dream a Little Dream), though they’re not what drove this piece. Word Count: 1396 Characters: John Winchester, Reader and some OC’s. Warnings: Nothing I can think of, it is fluffy, but there’s also a touch of heartache. AN: I wrote this with Farm Life in mind, kind of like a prequel, but you don’t need to read it to understand this in any way. It was just a thought. Although this is an older JDM in the gif, I’m picturing a younger John! This is unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine own.

The warm beer fizzed slightly in John’s hand, his shoulders hunched, head hung low. His other hand scribbled lazily over a free page in the journal he kept, making notes of the latest case and the beastie he defeated.

A younger man was behind the bar, his elbows leaning against the counter as he read a well-loved book. An elderly couple were at a table, sipping at sherry’s they’d ordered an hour ago while watching the inhouse performer. And an older man, clearly homeless, was bundled into a booth, almost asleep.

A woman’s voice drifted through the almost empty bar, sweet and soft and low, setting a mood of intimacy among the six listeners. The upright piano had been rolled out into a cleared corner of the bar, an air of comfortability to her, this being her regular spot.

John only looked up from the journal when he sensed a presence in front of him. The guy behind the bar was replacing his warm beer with a new, fresh and cold one. John nodded his thanks and went back to writing.

“Miss YN,” The elderly man called out, his voice wavering from age. “Let me guess,” YN replied, smiling brightly at him. She began to play the beginning of Dream a Little Dream the usual request from the man. She briefly glanced down for a chord change before beginning to sing, looking back out into the dimly lit bar to watch the elderly man stand and offer his hand to his wife. They began to slowly sway back and forth, a gentle spin every now and then, but mostly holding each other, a show of true love lasting a lifetime. The barman had stopped in his collection of empty glasses, mesmerised by the couple, even the homeless man had peered over the top of the booth. John looked up too, finishing his beer while tracking the slow movement of the two. An old memory stirred, reminding him of when he used to pull Mary around their lounge room while listening to a similar song, holding her in his arms, swaying to the music. How he wished he could have that again.

“Thank you, Miss YN.” The elderly woman beamed at musician, waving goodbye while her husband held her coat ready for her to shrug into. “Merry Christmas Mrs Apperol. Be careful getting home, now.” YN said, inclining her head when Mr Apperol pushed a fiver into the tin sitting above the piano. The usual, very much appreciated, donation.

The barman held the door for the elderly couple as they left, YN getting straight back to her music. “If you three don’t mind, I may sing one more and then call it a night.” YN’s sultry voice sounded through the speakers, but two of the three men didn’t seem to pay any attention. She stood from the bench seat and grabbed the nearby guitar, coming back and strumming a chord to tune.

She began a chord progression, calm and steady. John’s pen hovered over the page as he tried to guess the song from her drawn out introduction.

“Maybe it’s much too early in the game,” YN’s voice was slow to build as she harmonized with the piano. “But I thought I’d ask you just the same, what are you doing New Year’s, New Year’s Eve?”

John scribbled the title of the song in the margin and closed the diary, placing his hand on it as he turned his body to face her.

“Who’s gonna be the one holds you tight, when it’s exactly twelve o’clock at night, welcoming in the New Year’s, New Year’s Eve?” YN’s YEC eyes scanned the room. When they met John’s she smiled to herself, reminding John of the boys and how they’d get that smile on their face if they knew something the other didn’t.

“Maybe I’m crazy to suppose, I’d ever be the one you chose, out of a thousand invitations you received.” YN’s YHC hair fell over her shoulder as she looked down to check her finger placement, hiding her from John. Maybe for the best, as he found himself imagining her singing this just for him.

“Ah, but in case I stand one little chance, here comes the jackpot question in advance. What are you doing New Year’s, New Year’s Eve?” YN flicked her hair back over her shoulder with a whip of her head, glancing towards John to check he was still there, still watching.

“Oh, but in case I stand one little chance, here comes the jackpot question in advance. What are you doing New Year’s, New Year’s Eve?” YN played the last note, letting the guitar hold it before fading out. She sighed heavily and smoothed her palm down the neck of the guitar before standing and replacing it.

YN collected the fiver from the tin and crossed the bar to the homeless man in the booth, smiling when he wished her a happy christmas and became teary eyed. John felt like a school kid, nervous and sweaty as he watched her round the bar, she was mere feet from him and his mouth had gone dry.

“Thanks for coming in, wouldn’t have been Christmas for the Apperol’s if you hadn’t!” The barman said as she collected her coat. “Merry Christmas, Steve.” She said, kissing his cheek, “Leave Bob in and lock up soon as the new one’s out.” She instructed, patting his shoulder when he nodded.

“Uhh, ‘scuse me?” John said as she passed, maybe a little too forcefully as he tried to get the words out around the lump in his throat. “Yes, sir?” She said, that same smile from before gracing her lips. “Umm…” John quickly realised he was in a bar, he couldn’t ask her out for a drink. And even if he did, this was the only place open on Christmas Day. “You--” “Walk--” They both started at the same time and YN blushed, looking down at her feet, laughing before looking back up at the older hunter as he gestured for her to speak. “Walk me to my car?” She asked. John was taken aback at how direct she was, how confident she sounded. He nodded, quickly fumbling in his pocket for his wallet to pay for his drinks. “Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house. Have a good one.” The barman, Steve, said, waving them both out the door.

They walked in silence for a moment, the knowing smile plastered to her face. But it wasn’t a shit eating grin, it was pleasant, it made John want to lean in and kiss her to see if he could budge it, or at least be let in on the secret.

“...a bar at christmas?” She’d been talking, and John hadn’t been listening, lucky the end was enough to go by. “Umm, work has me away from my boys.” He was shocked at how easily he opened up, he never normally mentioned his sons if anyone asked about family, wanted to keep them away from the business. You never knew who you were feeding information to. “You have sons?” YN asked, genuinely interested. “Two. They’re at their Uncle’s for Christmas.” “I bet he spoils them when you’re not around.” She nudged him gently with her shoulder.

John was relieved she hadn’t asked about Mary, he would’ve thought his ring… “She died a while back.” He muttered, more for his guilty conscious than for her. “I’m sorry to hear that.” There was a silence between them, the crunch of snow under their boots the only sound as they continued to walk. “But, I’m sure she’s proud of all you do for them.”

John looked over at YN. She was staring straight ahead, a kind of thoughtfulness behind her eyes. Then, all of a sudden, it was gone as she glanced over at him, stopping. “This is me.” She said, nodding across the road at the motel. “I thought you said something about a car?” “The red truck?” She pointed across the parking lot to an old, rusting Ford F100. John nodded, his lips lifting into a smile before he chuckled to himself. YN’s head slightly tilted in question as her lips pulled up in spite of not knowing why he was laughing. “This is me too.” He said, pointing to the black, Impala that was parked next to her red truck. She smiled wider than before and snorted a laugh. They began to walk together, towards their respective doors.

“So,” YN said, hand on her door, fingers fidgeting with the key in her coat pocket. “So.” He said, he could feel his tummy begin to flutter as the butterflies came alive. “You wanna--” “What are you--” They began to speak at the same time, both stopping. It was YN’s turn to laugh and gessture to him. “You go.” “I was gonna...” John knew it was corny, but he couldn’t resist. “What are you doing New Year’s Eve?”

I loved writing this piece. And I hope you enjoyed reading it. Please comment or reblog or do both if you liked it too.

Tagging the monsters: @atc74 @akshi8278 @dont-trust-humanity @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @redlipstickandplaid @lipstickandwhiskey @jensen-jarpad @avasmommy224 @munlis @arryn-nyxx @autopistaaningunaparte @babypieandwhiskey @beckawinchester @blacktithe7 @bringmesomepie56 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @charliebradbury1104 @chvalkenberg95 @clairese1980 @dancingalone21 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @fandoms-are-the-best-escape @frenchybell @gabby913 @grace-for-sale @green-love-red-fantasyhearts @hasta-impalasta @i-like-your-assbutt @ilostmyshoe-79 @impala-dreamer @impalaimagining @iwriteaboutdean @jalove-wecallhimdean @kazchester-fanfiction @kristaparadowski @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @lucifer-in-leather @lucis-unicorn @melonberri @manawhaat @mogaruke @mrswhozeewhatsis @nichelle-my-belle @notnaturalanahi @oriona75 @ruprecht0420 @sdavid09 @sherloki-moriartea @thegreatficmaster @waywardjoy @wheresthekillswitch @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @wi-deangirl77 @wideawakeandwriting @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople @captainemwinchester @kittenofdoomage @room-with-a-cat @atc74 @katymacsupernatural @emoryhemsworth @whispersandwhiskerburn

#christmas challenge #john winchester #john x reader #Supernatural Fan Fiction #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #fluff #awkard #dean winchester #sam winchester

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lilietsblog · 6 years

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LETS GO MIRAI NIKKI LIVEBLOG THIS TIME HOPEFULLY WITH SCREENSHOTS

(update: nope didnt work. guess i do have to save the pics separately and not just copy-paste them into an rtf o well)

last time on: is Gasai trying to kill them??? i have no idea last time she was onscreen they (she and Yukki) were drinking soda from the vending machine????

I LOVE AKISE AND HIS FACIAL EXPRESSIONS SO MUCH like theres the normal guy freaking out and then theres this beautiful white haired disaster

meanwhile I think Yuno is??? roleplaying??? like she counts on him being non-responsive to play out her fantasy of being a caring housewife? anyway yeah she's done this offscreen huh. that was a jarring transition

AND SUDDENLY OPENING its somehow SUDDEN every time and I admire that man I love this opening so much and I cant take a single screenshot reflecting how awesome it is because the entire Thing is constant movement so hey Akise whatcha thinking man I love just the CONTRAST Akise:

Other people:

what is it with me and characters who never show their emotions on their face or in their voice but act exclusively based on them??? like theres this very specific anime trope of a white haired character who is stoic as fuck but instead of making rational decisions motivated by human people logic they do 100% self-destructive things based on curiosity / love / sense of duty / whatever the fuck else and in the end they appear to be missing precisely one emotion and that's self-preservation (yes self preservation is totally an emotion look it up) Akise is that exact trope and I LOVE IT SO FUCKING MUCH meanwhile, Yuno is having trouble feeding an unconscious prisoner... what an unexpected problem that could in no way be foreseen. let me guess: she's going to try to wake him up so he can swallow his damn katsudon ah no instead Hinata intervenes. hon SHE BEAT HIM UP AND TIED HIM TO A CHAIR HOW MUCH DO YOU THINK SHE CARES IF HE WANTS KATSUDON. what made you think speaking up was a good idea here

theres a meme of 'ask someone whos not in the fandom to interpret whats going on in this picture' but you know i think random ppl would identify this situation 100% correctly +- who Hinata is to Yukki. this anime is a cultural icon "Aren't you Yukiteru's girlfriend? Can't you tell?" I love the moon logic this anime operates on, that people inside it are forced to work within. Hinata knows how to put it in the one and only way Yuno would be willing to engage with it, ha. Aaaand looks like it's less roleplaying and more delusion. oh Yuno ah she figures out how to make him open his mouth by pressing on his jaw Yuno honey maybe the police wont come after HIM but after the shit you pulled it sure as fuck will come after YOU then again according to Akise it was coming after you anyway I guess I'm morbidly curious as to exactly how Yuno is going to organize Yukki peeing >_< huh, a sock aaaand Akise goes for the win! two skulls alas I already know One Spoiler that they are her parents, and her actions Almost Kinda Make Sense in that dream logic way so I think last time we saw the bodies they were mummies? but now that's definitely skeletons. huh

okay I'll be honest this is a reaction I did not predict this anime keeps surprising me with happenings that make perfect sense in retrospect, I really respect that about it OH IS THIS THE SCENE THAT SCREENSHOT SET WAS FROM NO I THINK THAT WAS YUKKI ASKING HER but Akise what the fuck are you counting on, that she'll come murder you in person??? I doubt all three of you could overpower her in Murder Mode tbh did you see her with an axe oh right you didnt :>

OH HEY THAT'S CLEVER I like how Yuno goes between 100% self-delusion about Yukki and painful 100% sane clarity about the horrible stuff with the other option being relatively normal interactions with Yuuki, memory suppression about murders and cheerful willingness to kill anyone for Yukki I think that second option really is better for her long-term )= you two do you realize she hears you as well maybe shut up okay no not really -I- know she's thinking because of the camera movement and stuff, -they- don't aaand she laughs. i dont think anyone (other than Akise I guess) saw this coming okay yeah looks like the gamble failed. the mind-preservation instinct of retreating into delusion overpowered the more mundane concerns so that's totally ventilation up there huh. I'm not sure if the gas plan will work for her huh so hum moment of truth WILL Akise send the email to the police or was that just a threat? (orrr the police might know already? he might have told That Nice Cop Guy about it) awww Kousaka's dying message is kinda cute

kinda superfluous - the police already know who they're looking for - but nice AHAHAHA POST LIMIT THAT'S KINDA HILARIOUS THAT'S WHY EVERYONE ELSE JUST USED THE MEMO FUNCTION ah no the rank increased fair enough wait what????? what the fuck @ Deus ah okay to clarify: what the fuck @ 8th well hey it worked out! I still quesiton a ventilation duct in a gassing room but hey I guess there was a lot of gas and Yuno didn't see a reason to conserve it and Kousaka's question is of course why the fuck is Yuno in her underwear. I mean... fair enough, I'm kinda curious too omfg

HELLO POLICE I WOULD LIKE TO REPORT A MURDER oh right... bad joke anyway I like how camera doesn't play along with Kousaka, while he's saying he's the ultimate weapon he's literally blocked by Yuno's head. we know who the main character is oh hey Yukki is coming to his senses! but can't talk huh right I figured it'd be the soda

*whaps with newspaper* NO NO BAD YUNO STOP THAT (she's drawn so prettily tho damn <3)

oh my sweet summer child you don't know the rules of this game AT ALL hum and the girls can't escape the same way he did because they aren't tall enough dude she's gone up against like five diary owners already and came up on top every time you don't know who you're challenging

huh she actually agrees to play the game wonder if that's genuine or if she has a plan like, I can imagine she's just been pulled into the situation and the role of the big bad setting up traps enough to enjoy toying with people and not just getting her way at the very least she hasn't axe-murdered him... or Hinata for that matter... yet

SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED it definitely wasn't just one event tho. Yuno doesn't act like someone who used to be a normal healthy kid in a supportive environment until One Bad Thing Happened and took their entire world. No, Yuno is acting like someone who'd built up the dissociation/delusion defense mechanisms over a long, long time, like, say, a victim of abuse who finally snapped and then didnt find a way to snap back I just wanna knooooow

OH MY GOD SHE SOUNDS LIKE SHE HAS A PLAN IS IT NECROMANCY IS SHE GONNA DRESS UP YUKKI AND HINATA AS HER PARENTS WHAT THE FUCK hum what did Yukki realize that's not a key is it?

IT ACTUALLY WORKED I CAN'T BELIEVE aaand

yeah at least she didn't kill him... immediately hum

Hinata and Yukki are both tied up so I'm not sure what they can do together behind Yuno's back but I know a foreshadowing shot when I see one for all that this anime keeps genuinely surprising me with twists, it does take care to make the events easy to follow, and I like that this is Quality Storytelling

yeah but it would have shown a Dead End, right??? or does it not work like that because it's like a 'secondary' diary, an offshoot of the 8th??? I wonder

AHAHHA sorry Yuno you're used to being up against diary owners, but so is Yukki, and he's been growing more competent at this too

NICE and she'd given him his own diary -> ???? brilliant decision but seriously if Hinata did something to Yukki wouldn't that be predicted orrr I guess Yukki's actions were actions of a diary owner so when he made a new decision based on his diary (again, brilliant decision) it changed he prediction ooooohhh she kicked the key that wasn't doing anything to Yukki in itself, it just enabled Yukki to act, which, again, the actions of a diary owner three diary owners????? please tell me that's Akise and Mao and oh right Kousaka was the third one the math doesn't add up :x I think the three diary owners would be able to find them bc of Kousaka's Diary and that's the 8th's plan

this must look so utterly surreal from the side

Yuno? You're not going to drug me and tie me up and try to kill my friends, are you? This girl seriously needs to learn how normal relationships work and I Yearn to learn what the fuck fucked her up like that.

BAD MOVE YUNO HE ALREADY TRIED THAT THIS IS THE RESULT

congrats Yuno you Fucked That Up

sorry but... yeah. you deserve this

???? someone in the cast lives in an orphanage??? I'm calling Akise in that case

oh nm it's something else huh

ah that's what it was oh Kousaka everything about you was a bad idea ...

... what

it really, really fucking isn't Yukki acted on information he had, and made the best decisions he had available. but he can't control other people's actions

...are these... the apprentice diary owners? how does the system work, anyway? how does the 8th send them after anyone? Kousaka has no clue...

uh was the dramatic slo mo effect in-universe too??? they were kind of racing on opposite lanes that couldn't have taken more than like. two seconds

see that's not wrong but. you really need to up your girlfriend game dammit im just rooting for Yuno in all this. you go girl. you fight your inner demons and figure out a happy ending for yourself damn that felt like a really long episode. probably because of the screenshots here's a proposition of a new function for the tumblr staff: uploading .rtf files automatically, splitting into several posts if they are too big. thats the kind of convenience the social media is supposed to offer, right? oh hey Murmur's diary! third installment of the You Saved Me series

beautiful

you naive fucking child oh my god Murmur

MURMUR NO

so was this, like, a dream or something? hum interesting

#liliet watches mirai nikki #still no screenshots

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