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inbloomwriting · 11 months

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If I had you II Jamie Tartt

Plot: Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. Reader thinks it's the easiest thing in the world. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Swearing, mentions of food and alcohol. Notes: This is inspired by the song "a daydream away". It's 5.2k words of pure friends-to-lovers sweetness. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. It’s a chore to love him, the real him not the overly confident golden boy he portrays on the pitch. Just look at his track record, that just proves his point. Sure his mom loves him, he never questioned that, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy for her. He’s convinced he’s made her cry more than once with yet another stupid decision. Then there’s his father who loves nothing more than to belittle him and lay out all his flaws for him and the world to see. And if even your own dad doesn’t love you, how can you expect others to.

So maybe that’s the reason he doesn’t let anyone close enough to even begin to love him. Sooner or later they’ll figure out how much of an effort it takes and that he, of all people, truly isn’t worth it.

And maybe, perhaps, that’s also the reason he doesn’t allow himself to explore the feelings he harbors for his best friend. He tried to deny them to himself for so long. Tried to pass it off as pure, unfiltered friendship. That’s bullshit though. He knows the feelings are there and there is no use in denying them. That doesn’t mean he can ever allow himself to act on them though. He’d just fuck it all up, the way he usually does with everything he touches.

The shiny hardwood floor feels cold and smooth as he sits leaning against the kitchen counter, legs stretched out before him. A smile is permanently etched onto his face as (Y/N) talks about something that happened at her work today. He should listen, it’s probably a fun story judging by the way her giggles make her stop talking every few seconds. He should listen but he is so enamored with her that he can not pay attention to anything else. In a perfect world, in a world where loving him was easy, he’d lean over and kiss her. He'd kiss her silly and she’d kiss him back and life would be sweet and it would make sense. In that perfect world, she would love him back the same way he loves her and it would be easy and he’d deserve her.

But that is not the world he’s living in. That is not his reality. Just a beautiful daydream he allows himself to escape to every once in a while. Loving her in a daydream is safe. It’s secret and quiet and there is no hurt there and no rejection.

“Why are you grinning like that, huh Tartt?”

She asks before taking a sip from the beer bottle clasped tightly in her hands. It’s an unusually hot summer’s day. One that makes it impossible to do anything but sit on the floor in as little clothing as possible and drink one cold drink after the other. Even if that means getting a little tipsy on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Nothing. Just happy to have you here. Missed you.”

“We didn’t see each other for a week and you already missed me?”

He misses her the minute she leaves. It’s like his heart isn’t complete if she isn’t there but he can’t really say that can he? Friends don’t tell friends things like that. And a friend is all she is. His best one but still. Telling her any of this could jeopardize their friendship and Jamie doesn’t think he could handle life without her. Not when a week already felt like torture.

“Well yeah, I’m proper shit at cooking. I need you to feed me.”

“Oh, is that so? Thought Mr. Bigshot footballer could get free food at any restaurant he fancies.”

She’s teasing but never mean and never hurtful. That’s something he cherishes so much about their friendship. His feelings, his fears — all of it is safe with her. There is no hurt or pain or fear. Just her and her friendship and warmth. And a pair of open arms ready to catch him whenever he stumbles and falls.

“True. But some fancy place in Mayfair will laugh at me if I ask them to make me dino nuggets, won’t they?”

Her laughter, he decides then, is his favorite sound in the world. It makes everything feel alright even if it’s just for a fleeting moment. He needs to keep his feelings locked up in that beautiful daydream because he can never lose this melody her laughter creates. And anyway, he wouldn’t even know what to do if he ever really had her.

— It’s not like she’d say yes anyway.

“You’re probably right about that,” she says and leans her head against his shoulder. And though it’s muggy and hot and he’s sure he can feel their skin stick together, he doesn’t shake her off. She’s part of his heart already, might as well melt into one completely. “You want me to make you some nuggets?”

“Nah,” Jamie replies and places a soft kiss on the top of her head. Friends kiss friends on the head all the time, everyone knows that. Right? "That's okay. Already had a Kebab with Roy earlier.”

“You guys are becoming friends then? Should I be worried I’m gonna lose my best friend status?”

Jamie lets out some mix between a chuckle and a scoff. As if anyone in all the world could ever replace her. What a ridiculous thought.

“Well he doesn’t make me nuggets, does he? No alphabet soup either. So no. Not yet.”

The little shake of her fist she does in victory makes him grin even bigger. He must look like a damn fool.

“I should probably get going sometime soon, I need to finish up some work and do laundry and do all that boring adult stuff that’s waiting for me at home.”

There are lots of things he should be doing instead of sitting on his kitchen floor on a Tuesday afternoon getting half drunk on cheap beer and half on his overwhelming love for her. He’s sure there are a bunch of texts and emails waiting for him to sort through. Keeley might be popping a blood vessel soon if he doesn’t answer her about that brand requesting to work with him on some ad campaign. And he will get back to her — soon.

Right now it doesn’t matter. Right now all that matters is him and (Y/N) and their little corner of safety and — home.

“But I don’t want to.”

“Yeah, me neither. Just want to sit here with you and — “

“ — hang out?”

“Mh. Hang out.”

That was not what he wanted to say but none of the words ghosting through his head are meant to be spoken out loud. They are his to feel and think and keep hidden and quiet.

“Good, we can hang out a little longer I think.”

And he’ll take what he can get. All the precious minutes she grants him he cherishes.

Right now could last forever and he wouldn’t mind at all.

Not as long as he’s with her.

Some early 00s pop song is blasting from the speakers of the bar. Everyone’s in good spirits and drinks are flowing freely.

(Y/N) is leaning against the bar talking to Colin, laughing about something he said, radiating joy and happiness.

She loves his friends, his boys, his family. Jamie loves that she loves them so dearly, so fiercely as if they are her own family. At this point, they might as well be. She remembers all their birthdays, drops by unannounced with cookies for everybody, cheers them on louder than anybody else. Hell, she even gets Roy to smile and that’s quite something. She’s as much a part of the AFC Richmond family as she is a part of his life.

“Jamie-Jam-Jam what are you sulking over here for,” her voice cuts through the crowd and the music as she slides into the booth next to him. She looks gorgeous in the hazy neon lights. Then again, she always looks gorgeous.

“Not sulking. Just — thinking.”

“About what?”

You. He’d say if he was honest and not such a coward. You and how much I adore you and how hard it is not to tell you any of this and fuck up our friendship.

“Was considering getting me nipples pierced. I’d have to take them out though and I imagine that would be quite annoying.”

“Probably,” she agrees and nods her head before adding “It would look sick though.”

“Right? I reckon it would.”

She laughs at that and once again it shakes his entire world. Like little earthquakes inside his heart.

Her voice is quieter after her laughter subsides, soft and gentle, and with the loud music it feels like her words are only meant for him. “I like this,” she says almost wistfully.

“The song? Who’s that, Rihanna?”

“Not the song, silly boy. This — “ she gestures around the room towards all their friends, dancing and laughing and having the time of their lives. And then she motions to the two of them, secluded and safe inside their own little bubble. “escaping our busy lives for a moment.”

“Lot of journalists would disagree with you there, love. That my life was busy.”

“They don’t know you like I know you.”

There’s a sincerity in her eyes, a warmth, something he can’t quite explain. It’s familiar and foreign all at once.

“No one knows me like you do. You had pity on Jamie Tartt, messy little prick from math class. They just know Jamie Tartt, the footballer from Richmond.Still a prick but now with better hair.”

Before he knows what’s happening, her hands take hold of his face and gently rest against his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. Really look at her.

“I never had pity on you, Jamie. I thought you were funny and exciting and infinitely cool. That’s why I wanted to be your friend. And I was right! About the funny part, not the cool part.”

“Obviously.”

“But I never took pity on you. I don’t think you realize how highly I think of you. Now let me get a sip of that drink.”

He’s still in some sort of haze brought on by her words when a groan coming from her shakes him from his thoughts. Her face is all scrunched up in disgust as she places his glass back on the table. “Ew, what the fuck is that?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. Barkeeper said she’d mix me a Jamie Tartt and I was like fuck yeah, a drink named after me.”

“It’s disgusting. Did you shag and dump her at some point? Like, is she mad at you for some reason?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that woman before in my life … so yeah maybe.”

Shaking her head with a smirk on her face she grabs a hold of his hand and pulls him out of the booth and towards the bar on the other side of the place, the one with the older male bartender with the impressive beard.

“You ever had a thing with him?” she asks as she leans against the counter, trying to get the man’s attention.

“Nah, I’d remember that facial hair.”

From then on the night tastes like tequila and beer and it feels like a warm hug. She doesn’t join in on all his drinks, stops herself after a beer and a shot, but she does join him in all the other shenanigans. Like when they make up ridiculous backstories for strangers and have a laugh about some corporate douchebag trying desperately to get with some woman who clearly has no interest in him.

“Henry from accounting.”

“Nah, that’s Charlie from HR.”

“Well, either way, Maisie from South Shields is not interested.”

He could stay here forever, laugh the night away. Drunk on happiness, on love — and also on quite a lot of booze.

“Come on, Jamie-Jam, “ she says and hands him his jacket. She’s all gentle hands and gentle eyes. “Let me give you a ride home.”

“We’re going home?”

“I think it’s time. Think someone had a little too much.”

“I’m sorry.”

He is but also not. He’s sorry for being a burden — again. He’s not sorry for letting himself enjoy a night of unadulterated happiness with the people that mean the most to him.

“No need to apologize, Jamie. I’m glad you had fun. Now come on, silly boy. I’m tired.”

And when they step out of the place and into the night, all sweaty and hair a mess, he thinks that of all the things his eyes have ever seen, the best by far is her. Then and always.

London passes by in a blur as (Y/N) drives them towards his house. All the bougie buildings and the iron fences and the trees in the parks, it’s all one kaleidoscope of color, a smudge of light and shadows.

It’s not like he can really focus on that though. Partly because all he can think of is her and partly because he’s absolutely wasted. Mostly her though. Definitely mostly her.

“Did you have a good time?” his voice slices through the comfortable silence.

“I always have a good time when I’m with you, silly boy. Did you?”

He rests his cheek against the smooth leather of her car seats and regards her with an infinite sense of wonder and adoration. In any other situation, this position would be deeply uncomfortable but he’s numb to anything but the beating of his heart and the strings that pull him towards his best friend.

“Obviously. Had my best girl with me. “

“Keeley?”

His eyebrows raise in confusion. “Keeley? No you numpty, you!”

“Me?”

“Why would you think I was talking about Keeley?”

He wishes he could see the look on her face. This is not a car conversation.

“Uh, she’s the only real adult relationship you ever had and you had a poster of her on your wall. Makes one think things. In fact, I believe that poster is still up.”

Jamie can’t help but scoff at her words. Not in a dismissive way necessarily but this whole conversation seems so silly to him. Yeah, he loved Keeley in a way and yeah she’s still one of his best friends but never has she come close to (Y/N). Keeley hardly ever got to see the real Jamie, the one that didn’t hide behind this larger-than-life footballer persona. (Y/N) met him before that persona even existed.

“Stop thinking things then. You’re my best girl, always.”

He still can’t see her face since she is looking at the road in front of them, but he can see the smile pulling the corner of her lips upwards, and for the moment that’s good enough for him.

Her car comes to a stop in front of Jamie's house but while he drags himself out of his seat, she stays put.

“What are you doing, love?”

“Dropping you off?”

“Are you not coming inside then?”

“Do you want me to come inside? We spent pretty much all week with each other, I thought you might be sick of me by now.”

A ridiculous thought if he’s ever heard one. He could never get sick of her. They could be glued to each other for the rest of eternity and he wouldn’t mind one bit.

Even in his drunk state of mind though, he realizes that’s not something he can tell her. That crosses out of friend territory. So he just chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Do I want you to come in? What a dumb question is that? Of course, I do. I have a bag of those disgusting spicy crisps waiting for you in my kitchen.”

“In that case —”

10 minutes later they’re sitting on his couch, her legs across his lap, munching away at those god-awful crisps as some overly dramatic American home renovation show flickers across the TV screen.

In moments like these, love lives here. In these walls and on this couch. And it’s terrifying because thinking about love also makes him think of the possibility of losing it. But every once in a while, Jamie lets himself feel a tiny bit of it. Just enough to keep him going.

“Hey Jamie,” she speaks up, her face only illuminated by the light coming from the TV. She’s wearing his shirt and he wills himself not to focus too hard on that because that will cause images to ghosts through his mind that he can’t allow himself to ever think about. Images that cross every line ever drawn when it comes to friendships.

“Yes, love?”

“You’re my best boy too. Not sure I ever told you.”

He doesn’t answer, not in words at least. But he squeezes her legs as they rest on him, and he hopes she knows. Oh god if only she knew.

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. (Y/N) knows he thinks so because he let it slip once or twice when he was drunk and his words were all jumbled and his mind was all hazy.

And every damn time it breaks her fucking heart. Because loving Jamie Tartt is the easiest thing she ever did. It comes as natural as breathing. It feels like a nice ray of summer sun on her skin, sizzling and exciting and warm.

Loving Jamie is a gift.

Now if only there was a way she could make him realize that. But every time he lets himself be even a little vulnerable he is so quick to cover the cracks with stupid jokes or misplaced arrogance before a real conversation can happen.

She needs him to realize it though. To understand that loving him isn’t difficult. Because how can you tell someone you love them and make them understand just how much they mean to you when they deem themself unlovable?

Turning her head to the side she looks at his sleeping face. Somewhere between Fixer Upper and House Hunters, he fell asleep, leaving her alone with her thoughts. He’s snoring something awful but she still thinks he’s adorable. Jamie has a mischievous, lovable quality to him that just makes you open your heart to him whether you want to or not. Yeah, sure, he’s let people down, he’s done shitty things, but he’s trying. He’s learned and he’s changed and the price for being young and stupid and cocky should not be a life spent questioning if you deserve other people’s love.

Jamie Tartt is not hard to love. But loving him and not being able to tell him because he doesn’t love you in quite the same way, that’s just fucking cruel.

The air is loaded with static. Everyone is on the edge of their seat. (Y/N) is huddled in between Rebecca and Keeley, holding their hands and nervously biting at her lip. Emotions are running high as Richmond is playing Manchester. Correction — they’re not only playing them, they are kicking their asses.

It’s 2-0 for Richmond and they’re already 1 minute into the 3 minutes of additional time. If Manchester doesn’t get a miracle, Richmond wins. The thought of that makes a fluttery feeling spread in (Y/N)’s stomach. If this is how she feels, she can only imagine what Jamie must feel like.

1:30

2 minutes

2:30

3 minutes.

“Blow the whistle. Come on. Blow the fucking whistle.”

And as if he heard her pleading, the referee blows the whistle giving Richmond their win.

Laughter and cheers and songs fill the air as every Richmond fan is on their feet celebrating a win they so desperately wanted and that the team fought so hard for.

The win Jamie fought so hard for.

She tries to find him across the pitch but there are too many people, hugging and celebrating, too much noise. She just hopes he knows how proud she is.

And she hopes that somewhere out there his dad is watching. Sees him win, with the team he doesn’t approve of. Watches him succeed and be the man he never was and never will be.

She hopes somewhere deep in the inky black pit that is his heart, he finds a glimmer of pride for his only son, even if it comes entirely belated.

Jamie has won quite a few matches by now and it’s always a great feeling but some wins stand out. This is one of them.

His heart is filled with gratitude and pride, and his entire system is flooded with adrenaline and utter euphoria. He’s positively buzzing as the team gathers in the hallway leading toward the locker room. Some of them have been whisked away to give short post-match interviews — as if there is much to say other than how fucking awesome it feels to win — while the others are waiting for them to come back so they can all meet up at the locker room for some after match briefing.

“Superstar, you did it!”

Her voice carries through the hallway above the rest of all the noise. Like a siren calling out to him, she can’t hear anything but her, it all shifts into the background.

She weaves through the crowd like a fucking goddess in blue. He always thought she looked good in the Richmond colors and seeing her with his name on her back never fails to make his heart shutter with delight. But there’s something about today that makes this even more special.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline of winning. Of making his mom proud and proving his dad wrong. Of proving himself wrong. Maybe it’s seeing her in his kit, with his name and his number smiling that radiant smile of hers. Maybe it’s a combination of all these things. But something makes his brain short-circuit for a moment. Just a fleeting moment but long enough to make him push through the crowd until he’s standing in front of her, matching smiles on their faces. Just long enough for him to softly place one hand on her waist and pull her closer, so unbelievably close. Just long enough to cradle her face in his other hand, gentle and careful, like the most precious thing in the world. Long enough for him to place his lips on hers in a kiss so sweet, so long in the making, it feels surreal. It feels like he’s still stuck in his saccharine daydream.

And then reality snaps back and he pulls away, opening his eyes to a smiling (Y/N) staring back up at him through curious eyes.

“Silly boy, what was that?”

She doesn’t sound upset, in fact, his delusions might even make him think she sounds delighted.

“I — “

“Jamie, locker room. Let’s go, boy!”

Ted’s voice calls out to him all full of glee and jubilation. The guy sounds even more chipper than usual and that says a whole lot.

Pulling away from her feels like having a bubble suddenly popped. Every what-if that has been clouded by post-win euphoria suddenly bears their ugly head again. Sometimes Jamie wishes his thoughts weren’t so fucking loud all the time.

“Go, your coach is asking for you. I’ll see you at the after-party. We’ll talk then, yeah?”

Only they don’t because, for some inexplicable reason, Jamie avoids her like the plague.

Everyone is gathered at the bar for celebratory drinks, it’s a private function, just the team and family and associates. Spirits are high, everyone’s excited. And all things considered this night should be magical. Only it’s not, because once again Jamie refuses to let himself be loved.

Rejection tastes bitter. It’s sharp and metallic. Rejection also tastes quite a lot like tequila.

The salt, the lime, the liquor — it’s supposed to make her feel better. It’s supposed to mend the cracks in her heart, if only for a night.

It doesn’t do any of that, it only makes her fucking sad.

How foolish of her to believe that he’d feel the same, that he’d finally pick up on the hints she’s been dropping for over a decade and reciprocate the feelings. Maybe they never stood a chance anyway. Maybe —

No, actually fuck that.

He can’t do this, it’s unfair. You don’t kiss someone, not like that at least, and then ignore them for the rest of the night. Especially not when that person is your best fucking friend.

Bumping against people left and right, she makes her way across the room to stand next to a smiling Jamie deep in conversation with a pretty girl, who (Y/N) is quite sure is the sister of one of his teammates.

“I need to talk to you.” It’s not a request. Not this time. This conversation has been a long time coming. It’s time, she thinks, to finally be brave. One can only swallow down their feelings and emotions for so long, until they come bubbling to the surface like a fucking volcano rolling over Pompeii. She just hopes that once the dust settles there will be hope instead of death and destruction.

“Uh, kind of in the middle of something here.”

She can’t stand this part of him. This fake, unbothered cool guy who has no empathy for her or anyone other than himself. She hates it mostly because this is not the real Jamie, just some cardboard cutout version of him.

“Too bad, that'll have to wait.”

She doesn’t give him another second to resist or shake her off, just grabs onto his arm and pulls him through the crowd and towards the exit.

The nightly London air feels cold against her skin, making her shiver as goosebumps appear on her arms.

“What the fuck is going on with you?”

“What the fuck is going on with me?”

He can’t be serious.

“Yeah. I had something going there. She was well fit too.”

The urge to smack him across his stupidly handsome face is seriously fighting her desire to kiss him again right about now.

“Good for her but you owe me a conversation.”

“(Y/N), I — “

The way he rolls his eyes so dismissively, so suave and cool, it’s like a dagger straight to the heart.

“No, you know what — fuck you, Jamie. I know you have a hard time letting people in completely, and I get that that’s something you have to work through on your own time but the way you're treating me right now is really shit. You can’t kiss me like that and then run. I’ve been waiting for that fucking kiss for over a decade.”

“What?”

He looks at her with the signature Jamie Tartt look of confusion and innocence. Like a damn puppy or something. And if she wasn’t so annoyed, so hurt, maybe she’d find it endearing.

“I’m in love with you, Jamie. I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you. I’ve been in love with you since I was sat next to you in class and you asked me if Pythagoras was that French guy. I’ve loved you when you were just a chaotic teenager. I’ve loved you when you won your first game and when you lost. I’ve loved you when you signed your first contract and when you made a complete fool of yourself on that ridiculous tv show. And I love you now. So to think you finally picked up on it and reciprocate my feelings was — I was so happy, Jamie. Only for you to completely ignore me for the rest of the night. I don’t deserve that. Not from you of all people. “

“Will you let me talk?”

“No, I’m not done yet.”

“Alright, go on.”

“I love you, Jamie and I know you think I shouldn’t and that you don’t deserve it, but guess what? I don’t care. I love you anyway and I am not asking for permission to love you. That’s not how it works. And I don’t love you despite your flaws, I love them too. Even your stupid 2003 looking haircut and your ridiculous clothes that make you look like a male Bratz doll sometimes. Sorry people in your life made you feel like you had to earn it just because they couldn’t see how phenomenal you are. Just you, Jamie Tartt, messy little prick.”

Silence wraps around them like a thick blanket as a moment passes, then two. Jamie raises his eyebrows in question.

“Can I?”

“Yes, you can!”

“Jesus, alright. Stop yelling at me.”

“Well, I’m upset!”

“And I’m sorry about that. I never meant to upset you. Ever. I just — do you remember that one birthday, I think I turned 12, when me dad showed up and he was just being his usual asshole self and he made me play against him and then yelled at me in front of all the guests when he won? “

She sure does. Even at 12, she wanted to put her tiny little fist straight between Mr. Tartt’s eyebrows. “Yes.”

“You sat with me when I went to my room to escape. Refused to leave my side. Called my dad a wanker and you made me laugh. Then you got me a piece of cake and we ate it on my bed while watching Spongebob.” A smile plays on his lips as he reminisces about that day.

“I was 12 and I didn’t know a lot but I knew that night that I was in love with you and I immediately promised myself I wasn’t gonna do anything about it. Losing you is the scariest thing I can think about and my track record with people is pretty shit, honestly. So yeah I didn’t want to even risk fucking up with you. Rather have you as a friend than not have you at all.”

“So why did you kiss me earlier after all?”

“For one, you looked so fit in blue, with my name on your back. I was full of adrenaline and just so fucking happy. I uh — I think my mind was telling me that it’s finally time to be brave for once.”

Hearing him say it, it’s something she never expected but always hoped for. She’s played this scene out so many times in her dreams and yet she doesn’t know what to say or do now that it is actually happening.

“So what now?”

“Well, if you let me, I was gonna kiss you. Because if you think that other kiss was great, this next one is going to change your life.”

As those words fall from his lips, (Y/N) can’t get close to him quick enough. Pulling him towards her by the front of his shirt. Closer and closer until there is no room left between them and he gently nuzzles his nose against hers.

“Jamie Tartt?”

“Hmm?”

“Change my life!”

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thought so. And maybe a part of him still does and always will. But kissing (Y/N), his best girl, the fucking love of his life, it feels quite easy to let himself be loved.

Feels as easy as breathing. And for once in his life, the reality is so much sweeter than the daydream.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt imagines #jamie tartt oneshot #ted lasso tv show fanfiction #I dont know what else to tag this as my friends ....#inbloomwriting

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junk-story · 23 days

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Interview: Interview Archive 1, 12.1993 - Ongaku to Hito Special Edition

BUCK-TICK is an exceedingly rare sort of band. Although the Band Boom has ended up vanishing as if it never happened at all, in an area totally unrelated to the Boom, where no one else is drawing a crowd, is a group with a unique stance who have continued following their own path of “individuality”. Their stylish visuals have the lingering scent of decadence. Their lyrics, like “I just want to go mad”, are laden with the aesthetics of self-deprecation. And, with “strange” sounds that have absolutely no roots in Western rock, and truly catchy melodies – from any angle, they are a “Japan Original”. Furthermore, although these “nonconformists” have also continued to be a great success commercially, they are still breaking new ground. Although their eerie ambiance is often misunderstood by ordinary people, this unique sensation is something that anyone can have a share of. Sakurai Atsushi reigns with a “negative charisma”, but his absolute desire to escape and narcissism in the sense of “being lenient with oneself” can happen to anyone. I support the weakness of humanity.*

Ichikawa: How do you think BUCK-TICK are seen by ordinary people?

Sakurai: …Maybe...I suppose people who aren’t interested just aren’t interested at all. Because no matter how many times something that doesn’t interest me shows up on TV, that’s where it ends for me.

Ichikawa: Despite your CD sales, you’re passive about this.

Sakurai: Yeah, because there are people who don’t listen to music, so even if I stood face-to-face with such a person and said, “It’s me”, they’ll just be like, “And who are you?” (laughs)

Ichikawa: Conversely, what kind of people do you think listen to BUCK-TICK?

Sakurai: Hmmm...I think a lot of them are daydreamers. (laughs) Even watching the same movies, like Alain Delon1 rather than Jurassic Park. (laughs) When I read the letters I’ve received, that’s the feeling I get.

Ichikawa: What kind of letters do you get most?

Sakurai: In my case, I get everything from the heavy stuff to the light stuff. (laughs)

Ichikawa: What sort of content is in the light letters?

Sakurai: “Your stage outfit was so cool this time”. (laughs)

Ichikawa: And what about the heavy letters?

Sakurai: The heavy ones are incredible, really – like a 21 year old girl who got divorced even though she has a child, or things about their family members, or about how they’re sick. Also, there are many people who write emotional content.

Ichikawa: It’s become Kitaro’s Yokai postal service2, hasn’t it?

Sakurai: Hahaha. But, there’s nothing I’m able to give them...you know.

Ichikawa: Although this idol-like reaction is understandable, is there no “added hidden value” appearing more and more?

Sakurai: Hmmm, I wonder...although I’m making music...music isn’t necessary to living, and you won’t die without it. So I think people who aren’t interested don’t listen to music that deeply, and naturally, they don’t synchronize their listening to the situations I find myself in and my reality. So the band is getting more media exposure, which is supposed to give us more opportunities to be heard, but I wonder…

Ichikawa: But on the other hand, the Yokai Post Box has letters arriving to it frequently, right? Obviously, that’s different from just a popular song and supporting some harmless rock music.

Sakurai: But I expect that the people who are watching idols are definitely greater in number. Because they’re all the same.

Ichikawa: But BUCK-TICK are already big names, and you’ve been reigning on the front lines for 6 years. Naturally, you should be different from them. And hey, if you were part of SMAP3, that would be a problem, wouldn’t it?

Sakurai: Yeah, that would be an issue. (laughs)

Ichikawa: So for example, what do you think people come to see Sakurai Atsushi for at concerts?

Sakurai: I really don’t know...for example, I receive letters saying like, “I want to see more of your humanity4 during the MC sections”, and I think it might be better if I expressed my humanity more. Also, I think the songs I want to sing and the songs people want to hear may be different...I’m always confused.

Ichikawa: You still haven’t gotten a grip on what your stage persona is.

Sakurai: No, if I think about understanding it, it’s easy, but I think hard about it and then it confuses me. I suppose there won’t be any problem if I do everything like an entertainer with a strong sense of providing a service, but.

Ichikawa: Like, “I’m Sakuraiiiiii!”

Sakurai: Wahahahaha.

Ichikawa: What’s an example of a song people are expecting?

Sakurai: Songs like “Speed”, “Jupiter”, or “JUST ONE MORE KISS”, don’t you think?

Ichikawa: And the song you think they’ll dislike?

Sakurai: Taiyou ni Korosareta. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Aah, Sakurai’s song about the thing at the core, the “aesthetics of self-deprecation.” Well, it certainly seems like a song that was written sitting on a hill of despair.

Sakurai: Oh? (laughs) But lately, I’ve received letters saying that Taiyou ni Korosareta was good, so I’ve thought that maybe I’m not as misunderstood as I thought I was.

Ichikawa: So you ought to have more self-confidence, Sakurai.

Sakurai: I should, right. More...not to flatter myself, but I hope I can cross the line to becoming an entertainer.

Ichikawa: Well, I think it’s enough that you’re performing as this “dark entertainer”. What do you think is lacking?

Sakurai: It’s not that something’s lacking...it’s that it’s incomplete.

Ichikawa: Well, then where is something lacking?

Sakurai: Mmm...in my own head. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Oi, come on now.

Sakurai: (laughs) I think it could be anything, but, for example, when I go out in front of 2,000 people, I just don’t get that same high anymore.

Ichikawa: So even though you have this stately and dark look – you don’t even think things like, “These 2,000 people have gathered to come see me!”?

Sakurai: No, I don’t. There can be people who are looking at something else even if they’re directly in front of me. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Aren’t you being narrow-minded about this?

Sakurai: It’s caught my attention. So I stare at a single point and act like an idiot who doesn’t see that sort of reaction to me.

Ichikawa: Wow. First of all, haven’t you ever thought, “I’m popular”?

Sakurai: When they’re screaming, “kyaaaaa!” (laughs)

Ichikawa: A live venue is really a melting pot of those “kyaaa” screams; does that make you feel anxious?

Sakurai: I don’t think it’s anxiety, but...I’m always agonizing5 over if I should take myself less seriously. It’s not only people who are listening to the music and enjoying it; there are also many people enjoying another part of the performance, so I think I should do what I want, but...I’m insecure.

Ichikawa: Have you ever thought about the influence you have?

Sakurai: I have. For example, it’s easy to tell when there are kids wearing the same fashion as I am. Also...I don’t know if this is my influence or not, but...the people who like the same world that I do. They give me these detailed, maniacal (laughs) opinions on things, like, “that musical is really good”, “have you read this novel?”, “you like this type of aesthetic, right?”, “this thing you said in an interview really spoke to me”, like that.

Ichikawa: Fundamentally, is it that the recipients of your work can’t accept Sakurai Atsushi as a real person? With your charisma, it’s like you’re magnified up 5 or 10 times bigger in their minds. And those voices, their expectations are like, “Well, if it’s Sakurai-san, naturally he’ll understand my aesthetic sense.” I think it would be natural to gain some self-confidence from those voiced expectations and support.

Sakurai: It would be better not to betray that sentiment, but when it comes to my own conviction...I think if I can put out more that says, “this is how my world is”, I’ll be able to clearly have that conviction.

Ichikawa: Even with Sakurai having this internal conflict, you’re being seen by ordinary people, other than your fans6, as a so-called “rockstar” now – in your case, you must be feeling the difference of that.

Sakurai: I do. Even people who don’t know music have said, “Ah, it’s that guy” – although I had just come there to have a meal. (laughs) I’m human just the same as a salaryman that’s the same age from that area, so..while I think that about myself, I guess they’re in a position where they can’t see it.

Ichikawa: Even if you don’t want to be considered special, in the first place, rock really must be thought of as “exceptional”. Moreover, being exceptional is the biggest characteristic of BUCK-TICK. Do you not have any awareness that this means you are exceptional?

Sakurai: I’m also very aware of that. It’s both extremes. There are also times where I want to say, “Leave me alone!”, turn my nose up and walk away, but (laughs) that’s also tiring, so there’s the converse argument to be made, too, like, “I’m a human just like you, so leave me alone.”

Ichikawa: Do you think things like, for example, that you could be as self-absorbed with how exceptional you are as Ei-chan7?

Sakurai: …I really do, without everyday life.

Ichikawa: What I’m asking is, can’t you become that way?

Sakurai: I can’t~. I don’t like being interfered with, and I switch Sakurai Atsushi off in those moments. (laughs)

Ichikawa: But there’s David Bowie, who isn’t doing fan service around the clock, but at work...(laughs) As a charismatic person, you can behave as you see fit, right? Although I think you could do it if you tried, you’d always agonize between those two selves.

Sakurai: I wonder why...because I’m afraid of being caught off guard?

Ichikawa: Don’t you think you’re cool?

Sakurai: there are times when I think, “I am super cool”, but there are also times where I think, “What am I doing?!” (laughs) I’m hard on myself, maybe.

Ichikawa: But, it’s simpler8 to think of yourself as cool, isn’t it?

Sakurai, Yes, much simpler. But in order for me to think so, I have to aim for being an entertainer, and I’m no good.

Ichikawa: This orientation you have toward being an entertainer is also being taken too far, actually – it’s like chloroform you breathe in every day until you lose consciousness.

Sakurai: Wahahahaha. That’s harsh!

Ichikawa: Don’t you want to become more arrogant and charismatic?

Sakurai: I really just want to shine within music, if it’s something I’m able to do. Aah...I see...maybe...I’m rebelling against it, aren’t I. Everyone views me as a rockstar, so I wonder if maybe I simply want to betray that notion and rebel against it.

Ichikawa: Does the so-called narcissistic state, where you can think of yourself as cool, not last long? It seems like only the high of not caring what the people around you think lasts, but. (laughs)

Sakurai: It doesn’t really last, no. It’s like...I end up able to see reality. That I’m someone who can go as far as narcissism, but can’t sustain it, I can see that.

Ichikawa: But without narcissism, the fantasy of rock won’t flourish, right? You’re a man who can’t be proactive, aren’t you?

Sakurai: Yeah...but that’s quite kind, because it makes people’s dreams of it expand more and more. I don’t really seem very kind, talking selfishly about my own needs while also saying, “I won’t show you the important parts.”

Ichikawa: If you said more, would it be like, “It’s your fault for coming to love me without my permission”?

Sakurai: (laughs) I wouldn’t say their fault...more like, it’s a waste. If I could be understood even if I didn’t say anything, I’d be extremely happy, because I hate the regret I feel after babbling out an explanation. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Then, explaining yourself to an ordinary person who thinks of you as a rocker must also be miserable.

Sakurai: That’s right. But...lately, my way of thinking about it changes all the time. Sometimes I think, “I’m gonna make that guy who doesn’t know me take another look!”, and other times I think, “It’s no good! I’m tired.” (laughs)

Ichikawa: So then, as I thought, you do think you’re cool, don’t you? If you were to call out to the women on the roadside over there9, you have confidence they’d quickly follow you here, right?

Sakurai: If I wanted to do it. (laughs) But using the energy is more trouble than it’s worth. I think maybe I’m unkind in that way.

Ichikawa: Well, calling out to them isn’t really nice either. (laughs)

Sakurai: Oh. (laughs) But, I’m thinking I want to become less sentimental, colder.

Ichikawa: What’s the reason behind that?

Sakurai: Because I have a heart. Wahahahahaha.

Ichikawa: Well, regardless of some minor occurrences of it, (laughs) Sakurai Atsushi doesn’t have any arrogance, really, in the bigger picture of things.

Sakurai: But I’ve also come to understand that I could be just a bit easier on myself, too. I think I could become cooler if I did.

Ichikawa: As Sakurai, and as BUCK-TICK, too, even though you’re this deeply self-centered person who doesn’t care about the existence of other people at all10, I think gradually it becomes necessary to see yourself objectively. And you have to become aware of the influence you have.

Sakurai: Lately, I’ve been chatting with people who have the same tastes as me, and it’s interesting to see how I can come to see myself when I see those people. While I was drinking in Osaka, a person came and sat down who said, “I can see ghosts” – why, I wonder, is it always that sort of person who comes to me? (laughs) But, it turned to conversation about our newest song, “die”, and they said, “You’re definitely a narcissist”, and I was like, “Ah, right, right, I’d forgotten that, now that you mention it.” The person I show other people is a narcissist; I felt like I’d forgotten.

Ichikawa: In the end, those types of people are the ones who come together under Sakurai with peace of mind, don’t you think?

Sakurai: That’s true. I think the people who are thinking about me must be seeing me with some amazing eyes.11

Ichikawa: Give those “amazing eyes” a response, a spectacular one.

Sakurai: I think it will change during our current tour. (laughs)

Ichikawa: (laughs) With that – BUCK-TICK is a band where the members take walking alone endlessly to the extreme, right? The most of any in Japan.

Sakurai: That’s out of my control. There’s nothing I can do about that.

Ichikawa: And that’s also why you feel like you can’t effectively exert your influence, I imagine.

Sakurai: Hmmm...so, I expect that I’m afraid of cheapening what I do. I just did what I wanted to do, so. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Are you being careful with your words?

Sakurai: You could call it being careful; you could call it cowardice.

Ichikawa: Certainly, in the early years – you may have been perceived as cheap during the pop era of your music where your hair was straight up, but since then, I think conversely, you’re perceived as a luxury good.

Sakurai: Yeah, I think we aren’t perceived as cheap, but I certainly have fear of being thought of that way.

Ichikawa: That’s like an ordinary girl thinking, “Don’t become friends with that person” about a yankii in their same class.

Sakurai: (laughs) Is that so?

Ichikawa: This yankii is stubborn, but in reality, he’s facing the dilemma of wanting to be friends with anyone at all.

Sakurai: Exactly. (laughs) But, I’ve been thinking that from now on, we should harden up more, get colder, and that I hope that those who don’t care about our music don’t bother with it. I hope that those who do care it experience it whenever they get the chance, and that those who don’t, never experience it again.

Ichikawa: Well, but, you’re so cool, so wouldn’t it be better to be more free-spirited?

Sakurai: Hahaha. I’m always overthinking things like that.

Ichikawa: I wonder if that overworrying is part of your personality.

Sakurai: Hmmm...I don’t know. But I’m always thinking about how I want others to enjoy and be happy.

Ichikawa: Even so, there are a lot of ups and downs in everyday life. (laughs)

Sakurai: Hahaha. I may not be handling them so well.

Ichikawa: Well, in the end, trouble always ends up coming about.

Sakurai: And that’s why all you can do is stand your ground, right...or I’m going to act out that pretense. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Have you been acting pretentious lately?

Sakurai: Quite pretentious.

Ichikawa: Anyway, you’ve got a good face for it.

Sakurai: Yeah.

Ichikawa: Oh, an easy agreement on that from this guy.

Sakurai: Fufufufufufu.

Ichikawa: So, if you acted like you owned the place, you could powerfully establish your own world – and moreover, externally, Sakurai is already waiting for it. All that’s left is you feeling like doing it.

Sakurai: ...it’s troublesome, you know.

Ichikawa: You sure are BUCK-TICK’S frontman.

Sakurai: (laughs) I want to have an effective presence that has a detailed edge to it. More than feeling like a big, enveloping presence.

Ichikawa: Aren’t you seeking a long life full of detail?

Sakurai: No way! (laughs) But, lately I’ve realized this. Because I’m using energy on this tour. (laughs) How can I say this...it’s like more...pushing forward the next day while feeling like, “I’m losing it, aren’t I?” (laughs)

Ichikawa: You’re a man predestined to being a paradox.

Sakurai: ...Has this ended up being an unspectacular interview? (laughs)

Ichikawa: Well, even if we sang “Shimauta”12 at karaoke, we didn’t sing “die”, so. (laughs) It’s considered special, you know, definitely.

Sakurai: Even if we’re doing something special, like – I end up feeling like everything is lumped together. I feel like the people who listen to music have become cowards, too. Like the provocation is frightening to them.

Ichikawa: Even though the propagation of provocation is the theme of this band.

Sakurai: Right. And moreover, we’re trying to even out the high and low points of unevenness, and there’s a feeling of something unseen moving.

Ichikawa: When it’s that way, you can only go back to the basics and put your hair straight up again!

Sakurai: Right? Although I wasn’t aware of it during the time my hair was up, that “We are special” thing.

Ichikawa: But I think if you put it up now, you might be able to do it having that awareness.

Sakurai: Imai currently has a mohawk while having that awareness.

Ichikawa: Well then, next will it be Sakurai Atsushi with his hair up?!

Sakurai: When should I put it up...people might say, “It’s uncool!” (laughs) I really don’t want to use my energy on that sort of thing. (laughs)

~~~~~ Footnotes: * This makes more sense as you read the interview - basically, I think he's saying that he argues Sakurai ought to be more lenient with himself. 1 A French movie star. 2 A reference to a manga. Kitaro is a “sullen ghost boy” who “protects others from malicious spirits”. 3 The biggest name in Johnny’s of that time, and still one of their biggest ever. 4 Human-ness? I don’t know a better word for this in English. They want him to emote, talk more, things like that. 5 Very dramatic word choice here – literally “suffering until you faint”. 6 Who are not ordinary people, obviously, lol. 7 Eikichi Yazawa, a big Showa-era rockstar. 8 Simpler in the sense of more comfortable; less work. 9 I wonder if he was actually gesturing to someone, or if this was hypothetical. 10 I think he’s ribbing him here – calling him out on his bullshit. Sakurai is repeatedly trying to say this about himself and then contradicting it. 11 In other words, they are seeing a version of him that he doesn’t believe actually exists. 12 A 1992 song by the band “The Boom”.

~~~~~ Some final translation notes:

I don't know who put the LibreOffice suggestion on my dash, but I used that to type this up this time instead of Google docs, and it seems to have preserved the footnotes (at least on desktop.) I'll try and test this on mobile too but hopefully it's a better experience!

Also, just a basic note on "cool" in Japanese - kakkoii. It's commonly translated as "cool" but really encompasses things like being attractive, sexy, etc. in ways I think the word in English doesn't. I think its usage packs more punch when you think of it that way, as like "heart eyes, motherfucker" cool.

#buck tick #sakurai atsushi #atsushi sakurai #ongaku to hito #jrock #visual kei #quartz translates #translation

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screeblees · 9 months

Text

Yandere ! Loser x Bully ! Reader Headcanons

Yandere ! Loser is Male and Bully ! Reader is Gender Neutral

Omg???? After my last two posts I’ve gained over 40 followers???

Welcome and I hope you enjoy Yandere ! Loser!!

Also thought I’d let people know before they started reading that Reader is gender neutral since I saw a few posts about it :3

Find my Masterlist here !

Please enjoy<33

❥ Yandere ! Loser who is first noticed by Bully ! Reader.

❥Yandere ! Loser who comes to the conclusion that Bully ! Reader has a thing for the cute quiet type and has developed a crush on him.

❥ Yandere ! Loser who in return for your perceived crush, becomes obsessed tenfold. He must show that your feelings are not unrequited, after all!

❥ Yandere ! Loser who had spent the majority of his life being alienated from his peers and overlooked by everyone despite his hard earned grades and now practically bathes in your attention (in comparison, at least).

❥ Yandere ! Loser who finds it hard to conceal his excitement when you’re rough with him; shoving him back, grabbing the collar of his shirt, kicking him, slapping him! It just feels too good… And don’t get him started on your degrading words, he might just break!

❥ Yandere ! Loser who feels his knees become weak, back shivering and a heat lighting in their lower stomach when you shove, pin or cage him against a wall or locker in an attempt to intimidate him. Your face being so close to his, allowing him to breathe the same air as you, nothing about the position is helping him retain himself. In fact, he suspects he may even drool sometimes when your threats are especially descriptive. He’s just so pathetic and desperate for you!!

❥ Yandere ! Loser who loves spending hours upon hours worshipping every blessing (read: injury or bruise) you generously bestow upon him, taking pictures with his polaroid camera and noting on the back where and when and most importantly how he received each one.

❥ Yandere ! Loser who loves visiting your home at night with his camera in hand, capturing you at your most peaceful - a state they would never see at school - and watching you wind down and relax after a school day. Every photo is plastered upon his bedroom walls, his favourite ones being closest to his bed. Sometimes he’s treated to a show late at night when you think no one else is around and all Yandere ! Loser can do is take pictures and drool into the hand covering his mouth. Those photos go in a special box under his bed.

❥ Yandere ! Loser who loves stalking your social media, making fake accounts to scroll and comment and know all your connections; your family, friends, potential admirers and those you admire. Along with downloading and printing any photos of you for his walls, stalking where you’ve been and where you’re going.

❥ Yandere ! Loser who constantly daydreams all about you, everything about you. Drooling over his fantasies of how life’ll go once the two of you graduate and are together forever without any classmates, teachers or parents to get in the way.

❥ Yandere ! Loser who gets jealous when you touch anyone but him, are mean to anyone but him, talk to anyone but him, look at anyone but him. What right do they have to your attention? No one but him deserves your affections.

❥ Yandere ! Loser who despite his scrawny, weak appearance, is rather cunning and knows how to fight dirty. He catches whoever attempted to steal you away from him by surprise and swiftly cut their throat, ridding the world of them quickly.

❥ Yandere ! Loser who sighs dreamily at the sight of you putting another bully in their place for trying to take your Loser. Right in the middle of him completing one of the many tasks you give him, too. They’ll be dead by midnight but he can gleefully enjoy your violence in peace for now, with a perfect view too. You might as well make your relationship with him official at this point as you’ve made it clear he’s off limits to everyone else!

❥ Yandere ! Loser who believes it to be clear to everyone around that he is yours and you are his. And he’s right, many have noticed the strange interactions between the two of you and have all collectively agreed not to get involved. Even if you aren’t fully aware, he’ll fix that soon enough…

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livsoulsecrets · 5 months

Text

1989 (Taylor’s version) songs as BL/GL Characters - Part 1

Welcome to New York - Chris and Amm (Friendzone 2)

When we first dropped our bags on apartment floors

Took our broken hearts, put them in a drawer

Everybody here was someone else before

And you can want who you want

Boys and boys and girls and girls

[…] Like any great love, it keeps you guessing

Like any real love, it's ever-changing

Like any true love, it drives you crazy

But you know you wouldn't change anything, anything, anything

Blank Space - Sand and Ray (Only Friends)

Saw you there and I thought "Oh, my God, look at that face, you look like my next mistake, love’s a game, wanna play?"

[…] Ain't it funny? Rumors fly and I know you heard about me

So hey, let's be friends, I'm dying to see how this one ends

Grab your passport and my hand, I can make the bad guys good for a weekend

So it's gonna be forever or it's gonna go down in flames

You can tell me when it's over, if the high was worth the pain

[…] 'Cause we're young, and we're reckless

We'll take this way too far, it'll leave you breathless or with a nasty scar

Got a long list of ex-lovers, they’ll tell you I'm insane

But I've got a blank space, baby, and I'll write your name

Cherry lips, crystal skies, I could show you incredible things

Stolen kisses, pretty lies, you’re the King, baby, I'm your Queen

[…] Wait, the worst is yet to come, oh, no

Screaming, crying, perfect storms, I can make all the tables turn

Rose garden filled with thorns, keep you second guessing like “Oh, my God, who is [he]?"

I get drunk on jealousy, but you'll come back each time you leave

'Cause, darling, I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream

Style - Prapai and Sky (Love in the air)

And I should just tell you to leave 'cause I

Know exactly where it leads, but I

Watch us go 'round and 'round each time

You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye

And I got that red lip classic thing that you like

And when we go crashing down, we come back every time

'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

[…] Just take me home

Out of the woods - Akk and Ayan (The Eclipse)

When you started crying, baby, I did too

But when the sun came up, I was looking at you

Remember when we couldn't take the heat?

I walked out, I said "I'm setting you free"

But the monsters turned out to be just trees

When the sun came up you were looking at me

[…] Are we out of the woods yet?

All you had to do was stay - Kim and Chay (Kinnporsche the series)

Here you are now, calling me up, but I don't know what to say

I've been picking up the pieces of the mess you made

People like you always want back the love they pushed aside

But people like me are gone forever when you say goodbye

Hey, all you had to do was stay

Had me in the palm of your hand

Then why'd you have to go and lock me out when I let you in?

I wish you would - Nim and Mollie (The Warp Effect)

I wish you would come back

Wish I'd never hung up the phone like I did

I wish you knew that I’d never forget you as long as I'd live

And I wish you were right here, right now

It's all good, I wish you would

I wish we could go back

And remember what we were fighting for

Wish you knew that I miss you too much to be mad anymore

Bad blood - Todd and Black (Not me)

Cause baby, now we've got bad blood

You know it used to be mad love

[…] So take a look what you've done

Oh, it's so sad to think about the good times, you and I

[…] Now we've got problems and I don't think we can solve 'em

You made a really deep cut

Wildest Dreams - Tharn and Phaya (The Sign)

Say you'll remember me

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your wildest dreams

How you get the girl - Mon and Sam (Gap the series)

Say it's been a long six months

And you were too afraid to tell her what you want […]

And then you say, I want you for worse or for better

I would wait for ever and ever

Broke your heart, I'll put it back together

I would wait for ever and ever

And that's how it works

That's how you get the girl

This Love - Pat and Pran (Bad Buddy)

Your kiss, my cheek

I watched you leave

Your smile, my ghost

I fell to my knees

When you're young, you just run

But you come back to what you need

This love is good

This love is bad

This love is alive back from the dead

These hands had to let it go free, and

This love came back to me

This love left a permanent mark

This love is glowing in the dark

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twc-thoughts-you-didnt-ask-for · 1 year

Note

This is going to be a long massage and my English isn't so good, so pardon me.

First I gotta say I just saw and followed your blog tonight (but somehow managed to read your posts for the last 3 months I think) It's amazing how you know UB members so well like you're the writer, I can't even imagine myself there one day. I liked your posts (especially the one you said about M being totally perceptive towards the Detective. You know, the one Mishka said M wouldn't notice if the Detective didn't talk to M due to an argument, I totally agree with you there.)

So, to the question (I hope it isn't too cliché): How do you think UB would react if the Detective sacrifices themselves to save LI from mortal danger?

(Bonus: The danger being the Annunaki, and the Detective somehow takes down his protective barrier permanently, then dies smiling)

I’m so glad you like the blog and my answers! I do my absolute best to do these characters justice with all the comfort they’ve given me. You don’t want to go down the rabbit hole I have though to get here it’s a long, sad, hyperfixated journey lol

It’s no secret that thinking about the detective dying and UB’s reaction to that is my favorite flavor of ice cream so I may have answered this before but….

I think A would be able to go back to some kind of normalcy. Obviously they’re destroyed and traumatized by losing the detective, that was their soulmate, but A has lived a certain way for so long that I think they would go back to it. I see A keeping the detective’s memory like a little secret just for them and I don’t think they would ever want to talk about them on anyone else’s terms. I think A would only talk about the detective late and when the mood was right and maybe only with N. As for in the moment, it kind of depends on if they get one last moment with the detective before they take their last breath. I can only see A reacting with anger that the detective would do that and that anger wouldn’t even be all targeted at the detective but also A themselves for not doing enough of being enough to make it so the detective would never have to make that choice. Probably say things or phrase thing in a way they regret but don’t worry they’ll accidentally break something (other than their own heart) thinking about it later.

N is probably the one that hurts the most to think about and I feel like it’s heavily implied that the scenario of the detective sacrificing themselves period, let alone for N, actually destroys N as we know them so it’s so hard to say who they would be after. For some reason I’m getting the vibes that N turns into someone that a stranger can look at them and be like “That is a haunted man/woman” right away and I also for some reason see N starting to maladaptive daydream. I could see them thinking daydreaming about moments that will never come or seeing like the ghost of a memory whenever they pass by a bakery or something. Probably a lot of nudging and support from UB to keep them moving. In the moment, N would probably react to the detective’s sacrifice with denial. They didn’t just do that, that didn’t just happen, their breath and heart isn’t slowing, it just can’t be happening. If N gets to say anything to the detective before they go I think it would be panicked lies that N absolutely has themself believing that they’ll be just fine and to not fall asleep. Pretty promises are made to take them away from all this, leave it all behind, and take them somewhere where nothing can hurt them again if they just don’t close their eyes.

I feel like F would cope the best which isn’t saying a lot but I think they would. I also feel like they would honor the detective’s memory the best. I think whenever F would see things that reminded them of the detective they would have a sense of warmth and nostalgia rather than dread and would take any and every opportunity to talk about the detective to whomever would listen. Like people would be shocked to hear that the person F raves about is long gone because they would sound just as in love as they did before they lost the detective (please note this is also how I think N would be in the scenario that the detective died of old age, not by sacrificing themselves). F would probably have this feeling the the detective is always with them and some days are easier than others dealing with the fact they’re not. F can look back at memories and smile more than they’ll cry. The detective’s memory is one F tells sweetly and often. In the moment, I think F would also react to the detective’s sacrifice with denial. F has unwavering faith in the detective and sees them as so capable that it’s probably hard to fathom. I don’t know how much F would be able to say, choked by grief. F wants nothing more than someone to choose them, they just wish it would stop being like this.

M is also an owie because they lose more than their soulmate they also lose their personal little slice of peace. I think M won’t be much different to outsiders other than M remaining faithful to the detective (I don’t know if Sera has confirmed that but I’m 100% sure that’s what would happen) and continuing to not have one night stands or any physical relationships like they used to. Life would more or less be like it was before the detective and I think like A they wouldn’t want to talk about the detective to anyone (also like A, I think M would only let N try to). I think M would look at the stars even more trying to find the detective in them, maybe pause every time they see a hot chocolate or a carnival. The memories of the detective would burn but they would never let them go. If the detective is buried, I imagine they would always say this is the last time they’ll visit the gravesite so they can look at the stars with the detective one last time but it’s one of many “last time”s that they never follow through on. I think in the moment M reacts with anger and will tell the detective what they did was stupid. Ask them how could they. M is more put together than anyone else in these situations so I think they’re rapid fire trying to think of a solution. If the detective had expressed a desire to become a vampire I think desperation would make M (literally) bite to at least try even after they know the detective’s heart stopped.

A/N: traumatized

F: honored (in a way)

M: Angry/overwhelmed

A/N/M/F: trapped in an eternity of grief :)

#me: these are my comfort characters / also me: so anyways I want them to suffer and suffer bad #the wayhaven chronicles #wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc detective #adam du mortain #ava du mortain #nate sewell #nat sewell #felix hauville #farah hauville #twc mason #twc morgan #twc adam #twc ava #twc nate #twc nat #twc felix #twc farah

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demonskiss · 1 year

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WHAT IF I HURT MYSELF AND OTHER PEOPLE FOR MY F/OS. WHAT THEN. will they be proud of me…

violence is my love language

cw: violence, murder, implied blood covered sex, possession

WARNING: I ESPECIALLY DON’T CONDONE THIS IRL, for this ask i will only write for darling hurting other people, not themselves

written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable

blythe who is initially shocked, they couldn’t have expected you to hurt someone else for him. they’re flattered, head over heels for you and swooning at the thought of you covered in blood, covered in other people’s blood. but the next time you check the news, there’s been a murder near campus, and the killer hasn’t been found. the front door slams open, revealing a blood soaked blythe, who can’t help but get hard at the sight of you, who can’t help but close the door with a crazed grin, who can’t help but wrap his arms around yours, rutting into your thigh like a beast. they’ll put a bloody hand on your cheek, tenderly caressing it in his own way of desperately trying to control himself, but it does the complete opposite. whining and moaning about how he needs to claim you now, how you look so beautiful covered in the blood of others. you’ve enabled this poor man to go much further with his violence.

ambrose genuinely can’t believe it. you, his sweet life itself, has harmed another? he’s shocked, he doesn’t know what to think. he may even disappear temporarily, telling you with a gentle tone that he needs to think. but he’s not mad, nor disappointed even. it got him so excited he forgot his words, he’s embarrassed to tell you, and he feels awful leaving you to drown in your guilt, but the next day he returns to you, hugging you and telling you how he feels. in fact, he’s fully supportive. but he scolds you for not telling him sooner, what if you’ve gotten hurt? he would’ve never forgiven himself for that. ambrose daydreams about an intruder breaking into your home, and him possessing you to maim the unsuspecting lad together. isn’t it so romantic? to him, it’s the ultimate sign of love.

sorry i went a lil loco here

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fruitymocha · 1 year

Text

Bloody Daydreams

Retro High School/Yandere Reader AU

Chapter 1: Golden Sun

Masterlist

Featuring: gn!Reader x Aether x Scaramouche/Wanderer, guest starring Lumine and Amber

Warnings: yandere reader (though in this chapter no yandere behavior is displayed yet), reader is kind of a pessimistic insecure loser in the beginning, Scara’s a bully to reader (so no Scara crumbs until later sorry)

A/N: wassup guys! I have another series here besides my other one, since I know that one’s gonna flop for a while (you know, cuz it’s not a romance and most fandom people want romance). Anyway, for those of you who want more Yandere reader content in the genshin fandom, this series is the one for you! Yes, it’s a three way thing, and it might not make sense right now but trust me on this, it’s integral to the plot. If you enjoyed my content, consider checking out my other posts. Hope you guys like the first chapter!

your eyes shone like the golden sun

First day of school. The day where everyone dresses up and acts on their best behavior, only to let the façade die within a week. Well, some people manage to keep it up all year, but it’s usually because they’re genuinely kind and positive people. As a matter of fact, I know someone like that.

“Hey Y/N!”

Speak of the devil, and he (or in this case, she) shall appear.

That person with the red ribbon on her head, red button up, white wide leg shorts, and the white and red saddle shoes? That’s Amber. She’s one of the preppy girls here at Teyvat High School. Which is weird because she considers me her friend even though I’m the weird loner kid.

“Hey Amber,” I said back. “I see you put your hair in a ponytail today,”

“It’s the first day of school, Y/N. Of course I’m gonna dress up a bit,”

“You look nice,”

“Thank you! You look cool as well,”

“Thanks,” I said, looking down at my pristine clothing. My outfit is not quite as stylish as Amber’s wardrobe but I suppose it’s good enough for the first day of school. If white and brown are considered good colors. Which to most kids who have any sort of social standing, they’re not. But it’s not like it matters.

“I heard that there’re two new kids this year,” Amber said with energy in her voice. She had a bounce in her step as we walked to home room together.

“Two?”

“Yeah, twins. Or so the rumors say,” she giggled.

“You are my only connection to any rumors and drama around here,”

“Who else would tell you? Barbara?”

“Obviously not. She’s too popular even for you, Amber,”

“Hey!” She protested, but laughed anyway.

“But I thought it was only one person moving up from the middle school,”

“Oh, I guess that makes three, then,” Amber shrugged. “The twins being rumored about haven’t even made any friends here yet so everything about them is just speculation,”

“Figures,”

“I heard from Jean that they might be rich,” Amber said in an exaggerated whisper tone.

“Then they’ll climb up the social hierarchy pretty easily,” I shrugged.

“Do you think they might be hot too?”

“Even if they were, it’s very bold of you to think I’d catch feelings for either of them, or that they’ll even notice my existence in the first place,” I deadpanned.

“Why are you always so pessimistic, Y/N?”

“Because most things never really work out in my favor. Except you. I’m glad to have you in my life, Amber,”

“Im glad to be here,” she smiled.

We finally entered home room, and we saw a few people already in the room.

Bennett

The clumsy kid. His white button up was already creased and messed up, and he had various bandaids on his arms and face. His brown pants were also creased, and his sneakers seemed to have some dried mud on the bottoms.

Ganyu

One of the more powerful students in the social hierarchy. Her pale blue pencil skirt, matching cardigan, purple blouse, and purple flats matched with her pale blue hair and purple eyes. Though I suppose simply calling the color ‘purple’ wouldn’t do it justice. It was more like the color of a galaxy with hints of gold. But that hardly matters. The point is, she’s pretty, hardworking, and popular. Out of my league entirely.

Fischl

The Shakespearean nerd and resident role player. She wore black and purple, a weird combo compared to everyone else.

Razor

The third member of the Bennett-Fischl-Razor trio. He always wore loose clothing, and today was no exception, with loose olive corduroy pants, loose white button up, a loose grey sweater vest, and brown loafers.

Yoimiya

Who happens to have a similar personality to Amber. She was wearing an orange dress, and was almost bouncing in her seat. There was a space next to her, and Amber ended up sitting with Yoimiya.

I sighed and sat at a random desk away from the others.

The teacher ended up starting class, and in the front of the class were two strangers.

“Now that everyone is here, why don’t we have our new students introduce themselves?”

The girl started.

“My name is Lumine, it’s nice to meet you,” she wore a pale blue sundress with a matching blazer and matching Mary Janes, with knee length socks. She had a cool sort of aura. No wonder people assume they’re rich.

I looked over at the boy.

“My name is Aether, it’s nice to meet you all,” he said with a small wave and a sweet smile.

Aether.

His eyes shone like the golden sun. His blond braided hair was quite long but beautiful. He had a yellow turtleneck on and high waisted brown pants with a thick black belt. I couldn’t stop looking at him. He was too beautiful. I forced myself to stop looking though. Good thing I wasn’t in the front row. Otherwise I would’ve embarrassed myself.

The teacher told Aether and Lumine to choose a seat to sit at. Lumine chose to sit next to Ganyu. Fair enough. I just kept reading my book of poems. They were all those classic love poems comparing the object of their affection to nature. An under appreciated art in this day and age. Then I heard a chair next to me being pulled out. I glanced to my right to see Aether taking his seat next to me. He glanced at me and smiled.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, and I think I stopped breathing for two seconds before shaking my head and myself and staring down at my poetry book, absorbing none of what was on the page. The only thing on my mind was Aether. How he had such a sweet voice, and a beautiful face, and amazing clothes-

Wait, focus Y/N! You can’t seriously let some new guy take over your life.

And then the door opened, revealing one very late Scaramouche. He wore a red button up, a purple sweater on top of that, and black pants. He wore those colors a lot, to the point that it’s become his brand. He took one look at Aether sitting next to me, and decided to pay him a visit.

“Who are you?” He said, hands on Aether’s desk, leaning forward, likely an intimidation tactic.

“I’m Aether,” he smiled.

“Well, Aether, I figured you should know they’re the nearly-friendless loser around here. If you want a social life, stay away from them,” Scaramouche said, jabbing a thumb a me. I simply decided to look away and pretend not to listen.

Scaramouche, however, was having none of it, and swiped my book off my desk. I looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “I’m talking about you, loser,”

“I may be a loser, but at least I get to class on time,”

And to my horror, the jerk sits to my left.

It’s official. Life has decided to torment me.

All I could do was retrieve my book from the ground and stare disturbingly hard at my desk. I resisted looking at either side of me, no matter the temptation.

To my left is the biggest jerk in the school, and to my right is the most angelic being I’ve ever seen.

Perhaps I was being toyed with by Fate. If so, then I suppose it’s nothing new. As previously established, I was never one of the lucky ones.

I decided to go back to reading my book of poems.

The poem I read compared the poet’s lover to the sun, and alI could think about were Aether’s eyes.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin au #genshin traveler #genshin aether #genshin fanfic #genshin aether x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere reader #genshin traveler x reader #wanderer #wanderer x reader #bloody daydreams

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celestial-lunacy · 1 year

Text

I’ve been thinking about curses,hexes and the like.

Maybe me doing them isn’t that really that good of an idea after all. I know that people tend to say that they are used for ‘’protection’’ or ‘’justice’’ but let’s not kid ourselves here. Baneful workings are just magical vigilante justice.

I get it. Somebody does something to piss you off and you need to get even with them so you do something that’ll make the target’s life worse. And some people have been through some really dark shit in their lives and they feel the need to attack their aggressors. For sympathy’s sake, I’m only going to touch on the minor offenses that cause people to throw spells at others because I am not going to be the asshole who attacks abuse victims. It’s not my line to cross.

Let’s say your spouse left you for your best friend and you’re angry. You decide you’re going to throw a mean little spell at them for ‘justice’. ‘’Oh, I’ll teach them a lesson they’ll never forget!’’ or ‘’I’ll make sure *name* will never cheat on anyone ever again. I’ll make it so they can never get hard.’’

Your ex spouse doesn’t know that there is a witch trying to make their penis fall off with your magic so h o w exactly are they going to learn a lesson in loyalty if they don’t see or even believe in magic? And even if their penis does fall off, they can still cheat on your former best friend with somebody else. Just because you throw vengeful spells at someone doesn’t mean that your target is going to have a Chirstmas Carol moment where they finally become a better person after the three ghosts visit them.

That’s not how magic works. Unless you actually send ghosts to harass your target into changing their behavior. And the other thing with witches who choose to do vengeful magic will toss spells that they’ll never do in person. What I mean is that some are alright with magically lighting a house on fire but are too chicken shit to throw molotov cocktails at it in person because morals get in the way.

‘’But I didn’t do it. The toaster burned the house down!’’

Ok sure. The toaster also lit your black candle and carried out an elaborate ritual under the dark moon to smite your enemies. I wish I had one of those.

I’m not really interested in getting into all of the reasons people use black magic so I won’t. I first started to doubt using black magic when I was daydreaming I was a fantasy hero in training talking to a fictional Goddess and I was having trouble defending my reasons in hexing people. Yeah...my change in character was caused by a stupid daydream.

I’m not going to completely write off black magic, I’ll just start using my moral brain more and act how I’ll actually act in real life. They don’t exactly teach you magic ethics without bringing up The Rule of Three or Karma. If someone starts flinging spells at me, I’ll bind up their magic or put up a mirror spell or even hypnotize them into halting their magical workings. I...honestly don’t know what I’ll do in any other situation.

I wonder how long this will last.

#witchcraft #witches #witch #witchy #black magic #black magick #witches of tumblr #witches of tiktok #baneful magic #witchblr #Magic #magick

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zwy01 · 11 months

Text

Alois doodles yeee!!!!!

Doodles of my noblesse oc Alois Elenor from my Millennium AU! He’s the son and first child of Ludis and Rozaria in my au. He’s the main focus of these doodles hehe. Meanwhile his crush Luzia Tradio, daughter and first child of Kei and Claudia, also gets featured here. Alois’ younger sister Susanna Mergas also makes a brief appearance. They’re a funny bunch.

For context, Alois likes Lucy. Lucy likes Alois back but she’s is total denial of her own feelings. They met in a very unconventional way, when Alois caught a very disheveled Lucy stealing rare plants from his territory. Of course she can’t be busted now so she doesn’t say it’s to fuel her secret evil research project. She just says she likes eating them (total lie) and Alois thinks she’s a lil strange but lets her go. He even offers to send her some plants regularly so she’s doesn’t have to come pluck them herself (lol) and things can’t get any better for Lucy. She doesn’t have to be sneaking around anymore AND someone from the inside willingly sending her stuff. Niiice. So she agrees and tells him they’ll meet again soon to discuss this. Alois being the big dumb nice guy trusts people too much actually believes that she likes eating magical plants so he asks for a taste too. Lucy is then forced to make something. To her surprise Alois loved it, and they start hanging out more. Alois then falls for Lucy when he realizes how smart and passionate she is. Lucy’s secret project is still her priority so at this point Alois is just a minor inconvenience and she will curse him and turn him into stone if he somehow discovers her secret project. But for now… his company isn’t bad. He talks a LOT around Lucy, when he’s usually very shy and almost never talks. Blablabla. Boy just feels so comfortable around his crush. Lucy knows he likes her and is using that for now, since this guy supplies her with the materials she needs (he doesn’t know what he got himself into lol) Meanwhile Lucy thinks he talks too much but hey… his company isn’t that bad. She never even thought about making him vomit maggots, when other people who stick to her like this annoy her so much. But he doesn’t. His company is actually quite nice. And when he isn’t here… she actually misses him. Wait. Miss him??? The great and powerful Lucy misses him??? She must be mistaken; she’s just tired from work. Unknown to her she has genuinely fallen for him too though she insists she’s still just using him, that’s all. Ugh. Way to go, queen, let’s see if you can still convince yourself that that’s what it is. She will be the first one to kick someone’s ass if they mess with him. That’s right, because she needs him for her project, nothing more… ahem. She can’t be attached to him. Oh no.

I haven’t decided whether to make one of them confess to the other in the “main” millennium au storyline yet but they’ll definitely get together happily and eagerly if it happens. In what-if snippets they do end up together tho, lol

Onto the doodles!

1. Alois headshot paintinggg my handsome boi. Usually you almost never get to see his eye(s) since he hates eye contact and hides them but when you do you’ll find that they are sharp and full of determination. He’s probably judging someone right now.

2. Alois daydreaming about his crush Luzia aka Lucy. To others she may seem grumpy and scary but to him she’s not like that at all. She’s actually smart, focused, and adorable. He thinks her frowns are the cutest. Ahhh big boi’s in love. He thinks of her everyday. If he doesn’t respond when his sister violently pokes him in the shoulders and face, he’s too focused on dreaming about Lucy.

3. Alois saying hi to Lucy. He doesn’t even know he sounds like he’s flirting. He genuinely thinks he’s just saying the truth. Because she is. Hey, no one else says that to Lucy everyday! Lucy is super flustered. She’s actually really, really happy. Usually she’s the one cursing others with spells but now she’s the one under a spell. His spell. Ugh, what has Alois done to her. Ahhhhh. Also he never shows his eyes to anyone except his family but he’s always looking directly at Lucy when he’s with her. Aww, thats so flattering. Lucy is even happier.

4. Lucy going to sleep cuz that damned Alois has been on her mind all day. Can’t even get him off her mind for a second. Maybe sleeping will help her get distracted a bit. Uh oh turns out she’s still dreaming about him. For clarification none of what she is dreaming of has happened in reality…. but she wants it tho she doesn’t admit it. She never will. Ahhh her sweet Al. Al. Al. Al!!!

5. Uh oh, back to reality. Lucy is super embarrassed and even she can’t believe what she just dreamed of. Time to scream. Mommy Claudia is worried, and wonders why her daughter is so…. tensed up. Lucy insists its nothing lol

6. Lucy can’t face Al for the day so she ignores his greetings and he gets sad. Susa catches up on something… hold up. Oh. Ohhhhhh. Time for popcorn? Her brother’s love life is streaming right now!

7. Al wants to be picked up. Lucy obliges. Ofc this doesn’t happen yet but when it does Al is gonna making nonstop eeping noises. Ohhhh, she’s soo cool….*heavy breathing* meanwhile Lucy is thinking about dropping him flat on his ass, if he drools on her. Nah you like him too much to do that. Cmon stop playing cool lol.

#noblesse #manhwa #myart #millennium au #oc #ocs #original character #alois elenor #luzia tradio #just hurry up and confess already #susanna mergas

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simplynotcapable · 10 months

Note

So how would Baelon and Visenya do if they got incarnated into entirely alien universes? Idk what you’re into, throw a random combo at us. Marvel? Supernatural? NBC’s Hannibal? Teen Wolf? Smallville?

We are just going to grant them the grace of making them not related in this because I’m in a good mood and they’ve been through enough.

And I have seen all of these shows except Smallville and Hannibal, but I’m just going to do Marvel because I think it’d end up being the longest version. If someone wants to hear the others too, I’m more than willing lol

Marvel:

I actually think this one would be so fun if we make Valyria a real place that doesn’t exist anymore, and people with Valyrian ancestry have all but forgotten anything about their heritage because the Doom happened so long ago.

But Baelon’s family (son of Viserys, Alicent is his stepmom, Targtowers are his younger siblings that he loves but also wants to drown) haven’t. They know their shit, they know what Dragonstone is, and they’ve spent every generation desperately trying to bring back dragons because they’re kind of like a cult!

Visenya, meanwhile, is just a plucky little Valyrian history nerd who is like majoring in Valyrian history and has taught herself to speak Valyrian and is the eldest of four (Rhaenyra and Harwin because I SAID SO) and constantly is like “THEY RODE DRAGONS” and Jace and Luke are like “we love you. we love you. get a life”

And then one day Aemond comes sock-skating into Baelon’s room brandishing a fucking scroll he pulled out of the wall or something, basically going “I FIGURED IT OUT” and their entire family is like “oh shit we figured it out” and then Aegon points out that one passage and is like “it says if you fail you die i nominate Aemond”

And Viserys is bedridden so Daemon is in charge because all the kids are still young (Baelon’s 26! He’s offended! But he also doesn’t want to do it so whatever) and Daemon decides they’ll just experiment on someone else with Valyrian ancestry from outside the family so if it works they can kill them (because it is only a Their Family Thing, they’ve decided) and if it doesn’t no one important dies.

And what they come upon is Visenya, who is a Targaryen like them (similar to how so many people are named White but unrelated) and a huge Valyrian nerd and has the heritage and they go “yes. that one.” and, just their luck, she’s put in a request to use their archives to write her thesis. And they always always reject these requests, but they accept hers, and she’s too busy being excited to care why.

And Baelon goes to pick her up from the airport because Daemon doesn’t trust the chauffeurs, and it’s just. There’s a very pretty girl who looks at his Avengers t-shirt and is like “Bruce Banner was a guest lecturer on my campus once” and she smiles, and he is very upset she is going to die because he thinks he kind of wants to take her to Italy or something! It’s a confusing car ride!

And it…takes awhile, to get everything ready. The spell Aemond found had provisions and special criteria that have to be met, and there’s gotta be a certain amount of blood in the air, and it takes a hot minute to get everything ready.

And he and Visenya are just. Hanging out a lot in that time period. Which is a bad idea! She’s got a time limit! But she’s just funny, and she’s nice to his little sister, and she keeps telling him fucked up facts that shouldn’t be interesting but are, and they bond over the lingering trauma of Daeron/Joffrey getting snapped, and he keeps catching himself just daydreaming about holding her hand. And they fall in love because they’re Baelon and Visenya and they always fall in love!

Baelon: what if she IS family

Aemond: what

Baelon: i could make her family

Aegon: what

Baelon: i’m suggesting I marry the pretty girl so we don’t have to kill her

Daeron: you’ve known her like four months

Baelon: don’t slut shame me

(Visenya, texting her friends: what if i marry rich and never have to worry about the lack of practicality in my degree again

Monty, gay and dumb: great idea

Brigit, gay and not dumb: no it is not that man is a STRANGER)

and then they kiss for the first time and he pulls away and he goes: I have to tell you something.

And he tells her the plan, which is supposed to happen in about a few days from then, about how they think they can bring the dragons back but it’s really dangerous and she’s the

And she goes I GET A DRAGON?? and he’s like “well actually if you succeed my uncle still wants to kill you, and I was super against that btw” and she goes “because killing people or because killing me” and he laughs uncomfortably and says “maybe you should just get on a plane”

But no! She wants a dragon! That is an option and she is taking it, are you kidding, and so she makes him read her all the provisions and show her the one they’re still working on, and she’s like “the ancestral dragonglass knife is probably a suggestion, i have a pocketknife let’s wing it” and he’s like “oh dear God” but she’s already leaving and what’s he gonna do? Not follow? Please.

(Baelon: you could die

Visenya: i could have a dragon

Baelon: or die

Visenya: worth it don’t be a pussy

Baelon: do you want to have a honeymoon in Paris

Visenya: we aren’t engaged please focus )

and so they do the thing. but at the last minute Baelon is like “okay fuck this i OWN this volcano i want a dragon too” and she’s like “well your dad does, nepo baby, but if you say so” and it works.

kind of.

see, myths change. folklore gets warped. everything says the Valyrians rode dragons, but that just…isn’t exactly right.

turns out, if you fail you die because turning into a twelve ton fire-breathing lizard with wings is super hard on the immune system.

they are both very disoriented.

(Visenya: and you wanted me to take a plane

Baelon: oh yeah baby my bad i wasn’t aware we could GROW WINGS)

and naturally Daemon finds out immediately , because it’s a Marvel movie and ofc he does, and trying to escape the volcano and then the island when they don’t know how flying works and are trying to keep Visenya from getting killed is super complicated, actually, and there’s a whole thing where Baelon almost accidentally sets Aemond on fire (he lives dont worry but that is how he loses his eye), and then it turns out there’s a time limit and they turn back to people which is BAD because now they’re outnumbered without any advantage at all.

But they make it to the docks because Baelon has a boat, because, again, nepotism, and every rich white man in his 20s owns a boat, and it’s Daemon chasing them, and Baelon has a split second of “yk maybe betraying my entire family for a girl i met six months ago is a little far” but then Daemon shoots a gun and it hits her in the shoulder and he decides it is perfectly far, actually, and then there’s a fight and he thinks Daemon’s dead and kind of just kicks him into the water.

And then they boat away into the distance in silence, and naturally learning to be dragons sometimes is not something easily hidden, so they spend a lot of time on the news even though no one knows who it is turning into dragons. also running from people that his family sends after him, and occasionally killing them because when part of you kind of wants to eat everyone you see, you get less squeamish about it. They do eventually get married. Brigit still thinks it is very dumb.

And the next time aliens invade or something , Baelon opens the door and sees goddamn Sam Wilson, and he’s like “OH MY GOD????”

And then they roast some aliens. Baelon gets to meet Rocket, and he is so excited he is almost crying, and Visenya is much too busy interrogating Thor to care. They’re not e x a c t l y avengers because they’re too blase about people dying, but they are frequently utilized by them which is basically the same thing.

Naturally the rest of Baelon’s family does the stupid ritual and it kills his already sick dad but it turns out Daemon’s alive and that’s the plot of the second movie. They are accompanied by Spiderman in that one because I have the power to do that, and also at some point the multiverse breaks again and they meet themselves as incestuous twins and it is very disorienting for them.

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thiswasinevitableid · 2 years

Text

Found (Sternclay)

One of the bonus prompts was: Halloween Wedding

Halloween comes to Kepler on the first cold week of the year. A summer that lingered too long means the trees are still changing color, splotches of green, yellow, and orange painting the hillsides as a few off-season visitors weave through them.

In the town proper, citizens of Kepler put the final touches on haunted yards and run to the store for a few more bags of candy, just in case. At the Cryptonomica, Ned Chicane, still moving much slower than he’s used to, posts up a sign reading “closed for the day” on the front door.

Topside, Mama posts the same on the doors of Amnesty Lodge. The statement is not entirely true; they’ll still have guests in the rooms tonight, but they won’t be coming off the highway or over from the National Forest. Many of them will arrive this afternoon from a stone arch a mile away, smoothing down unfamiliar hair and studying their newly human faces.

The Lodge lobby and porch are far more active than on a usual morning. Moira carries a tray of mugs through the main doors, passing them out to the residents who are busy slicing into pumpkins and dumping mounds of seeds and orange innards onto newspaper. There was initially a system but, as with so many plans, some degree of chaos is inevitable and their assembly line has become a circle for trading stories and predictions as they work. No one is all that worried by slowing pace; they’ll still have the Jack’O Lanterns spelling out “Congratulations Joseph and Barclay” long before the other guests arrive.

—----------------------------------------------

Barclay knows from his years of watching rom-coms that if people daydream about their wedding day, the dress is the focus. But for him, it’s always, always been the cake. The flavor changed depending on the object of his affection; strawberry and lemon for the man he met when he first came to the Lodge. A play on Boston Cream Pie for another, a member of the Pine Guard who predated Mama and was lost to them soon after Barclay began helping with the hunts.

The size and color shifted too, from towering with pink and white roses to a single layer with a chocolate mirror glaze. For a while he thought cupcakes could be fun. The only part of the daydream that never changed was that, the morning of his wedding, he’d be in the kitchen making it. And here he is.

Though, he’ll admit the bat stencils are a bit of a surprise.

When he and Joseph first sat down to plan, his fiance set a calendar on the coffee table along with a blank, bulleted to-do list and a cup of colored pens. Then he’d slid next to Barclay on the couch, writing things down as Barclay described all the things he wanted or thought might be sweet to include. It was only after forty-five minutes that he realized Joseph was using his professional skills to perform the world's most loving interrogation. So he stopped himself midway through a tangent on music and asked Joseph what the important parts were for him.

“I…I’m not really sure. I spent years assuming I’d be married to my work so I never put much thought into how a wedding would look.” He pauses, eyes on some distant point, the murmurs, “not that I didn’t want one. I wanted a life with someone. But imagining it just made it all the more obvious why I’d never have it.”

“Baby..” Barclay murmurs, nuzzling his cheek, and Joseph smiles at him. It’s a dreamy smile, one he only does when it’s just the two of them, often when Barclay has done or said something especially corny.

“All I know right now is that I want us to be married at the end of it. Oh, and to break a glass. Sterns aren’t the most religiously observant but apparently we’ve done that one at every wedding.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing comes to mind.” Joseph kisses his cheek, “like I said, the most important thing about the wedding is right here with me.”

“You’re sweet, babe. Are there, like, more out there things you think you’d want?”

Joseph thinks a moment. Then he chuckles, “It’s silly, but I’ve always thought it’d be amazing to get married on Halloween.”

So here he is, getting cream cheese frosting to just the right shade of dark blue. It’ll frost his four tier pumpkin spice cake, as well as the five tray pumpkin spice cakes he made just to be safe. Once the frosting is on, he’ll stencil bats swirling up the cake towards the moon iced on the very top tier. That tier is just for the two of them: espresso cake with a layer of chocolate ganache.

They both enjoy that flavor on its own merits. But for Barclay there’s the added affection of it being the recipe he was working on one of the first times Joseph really talked with him. The agent was the only person left in the restaurant on a slow, winter night. Barclay was tinkering with the batter, measuring out the espresso when a friendly, professional voice asked, “could I trouble you for a cup of that?”

He’d nearly burst out laughing. Because no, sharing coffee was no trouble. It didn’t even crack the top one hundred of the troubles that swirled around them, troubles that only escalated the longer Joseph was in his life.

The trouble is you’re hunting me

The trouble is I like you

The trouble is I can’t stop thinking about kissing you

The trouble is the world is ending and I’ll never get to tell you the truth

And then he’d said “fuck it” and one look on Joseph’s face told him all the trouble had been worth it.

The kitchen door whuffs open and closed, and he can tell without looking that it’s Mama.

“Still can’t believe you went this way instead of payin someone for a cake.”

“I like making cakes. And I wanted to make this one.”

Mama fondly shakes her head “I know, you wanna show your fella just how much he means to you.”

“I mean, yeah, but…this is for everyone. I love him, but I love you all, too. I made this for my family, new and old.”

His friend rests a hand on his back, studying the cake, “I’m so goddamn happy for you. You got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known. Glad you found someone who’ll treat it the way it deserves.”

He leans far enough to the side to rest his cheek on the top of her head, “Thanks, Mama.”

She ruffles the back of his shirt, “Aw, don’t mention it. I’ll leave you to it, gotta go help Thacker with the decorations. You need us, you know where we’ll be.”

A swell of emotion hits him right under the ribs, and he turns to bear hug her, muffling her resulting laugh while novelty Halloween songs drift over from the lobby.

—------------------------------------------------------------

“This really isn’t necessary.” Joseph sits back down on the bed as Lily, his oldest sister, lays her make-up out on the dresser.

“It absolutely is.” Amy, his other sister, slides a DVD of Creature from the Black Lagoon into the player, “we’ll have some nice, family bonding while we get ready and–Joseph Michael Stern I see you eyeing those windows. Keep your butt inside.”

“I should just check to make sure-”

“Joseph, you told us yourself that you had everything planned to a T and that you trusted your friends, and our parents, to get things ready today.”

“And” Lily adds, “that our jobs for today were a) stand with you during the ceremony and b)keep you from spending your entire wedding day fussing.”

“Okay, okay. I’m relaxing, see?” He lays on the bed, “I’m completely calm. I feel like my heart is trying to tunnel out of my chest but I’m calm.”

“That’s pretty normal, wouldn’t you say Lil?”

“It’s how I felt when I married Carlos.”

His sisters flank him as fake smoke fills the screen. Amy is still in pajama pants and a sweater, Lily is already sporting her pantsuit, the same midnight purple as the shirt Joseph will be wearing in a few short hours. They chose that and copper as the wedding colors to be on theme while still allowing for some semblance of sophistication. Joseph knows that, for all his comfort with the woods and the rougher side of life, his husband-to-be also craves elegance.

That’s why Joseph arranged the catering to be a surprise. Barclay okayed the menu, but Joseph hasn’t told him it’s coming from his favorite, fancy, big city restaurant.

“I’m glad you’re letting kids skip out on the reception to go Trick or Treating. Ellie was going to be pissed, excuse my french, if she had to miss that.”

Joseph nods; he’s not sure what favor Barclay called in to get Kirby to agree to chaperone a bunch of visiting kids through the Main Street Trick or Treat, but he’s grateful all the same.

Amy nudges him, “Speaking of family, guess what dad gave to Barclay’s…mom? And sister?”

“Oh christ, not the ducks.”

“Yes, the ducks.”

He sighs; of all the traditions floating around, he doesn’t know why his dad’s family is so attached to giving little wooden ducks to the family members of anyone who marries in. Still, he’s glad they’re so accepting of his somewhat unconventional life in Kepler.

(Who is he kidding, after the first time he brought Barclay to Chicago his parents decided the cook was their future son in law and made no secret of it).

“I think I’ll get changed-”

“The ceremony isn’t for another four hours. Now” Lily passes him a sparkling water from the mini fridge, “sit back and enjoy the fact this is the one day I’ll watch this kind of movie with you two.”

He takes the can with a grin, “I love you, too.”

—----------------------------------------------------

The clock ticks down the minutes until five p.m as the sun clicks closer to the horizon, creating a golden hour that renders the entire Lodge glowing as more guests pull into the parking lot. Wine red dahlias and deep purple roses bunch together at every door with orange coneflowers and remarkably metallic poppies. Black pansies sit in small, skull-shaped vases at every table, and guests are welcome to take bottles and cans from ice-filled coffins as they wait for the ceremony to begin. With the exception of the coffins, Dani grew them all (with a little help from Aubrey).

The ceremony is in the garden, and as the guests walk the path of purple rose petals to their seats, they speculate as to what the grooms are up to.

Jake whispers to Aubrey that they’re probably getting in a little make-out session before things start.

Mrs. Stern tells her mother that Joseph is no doubt going over things for the hundredth time so everything will be just right.

Duck asks Indrid what he thinks they’re up to, teasing that maybe Barclay got cold feet and Joe will have to hunt him down all over again. Indrid glances briefly at the ceiling and then smiles. When Duck raises a perplexed eyebrow, the seer simply says, “not all futures are mine to share.”

—--------------------------------------------------------

What Joseph is actually doing is pacing in a hallway just out of view of the guests. His sisters have already left to join the rest of the wedding party, and as he peeks through a window he can see they’re almost ready to begin.

Everyone he loves is out there, dressed in their autumnal or gothic finery. The whole place looks amazing, everyone did what he asked them to. Yet his heart is still beating hard enough to break the world in half.

A hand slips into his own and in an instant the beats return to a steady, quiet thump.

“Thanks for giving me the morning to myself.”

“Thanks for letting my sisters more or less hold me hostage.” He turns to look at Barclay and lets out a breathless “oh.” His fiance is in a black suit with a copper pin-striped shirt and dark purple tie. Had he not clearly just brushed down his beard, Joseph’s fingers would already be in it, stroking him and telling him how gorgeous he is.

“Not bad for a Bigfoot, huh?” Barclay rumbles.

“You put anyone, cryptid or human, to shame.”

“Right back at you, babe. But, uh, think you’re missing something”

Joseph looks down as Barclay takes his tie between his fingers. When he smooths it back down, there’s a silver tie pin in the shape of a Bigfoot.

“Perfect” they say as one just as Dani pokes her head around the corner and waves that it’s time.

As per Sylph tradition, they walk arm in arm down the aisle. As per the online certification he got, Thacker is waiting between their respective grooms-people to act as officiant. Once everyone is welcomed, Thacker tells them it’s time for their vows.

Barclay holds his hands, looking at their joined fingers as he begins, “I, I know I don’t look it, but anyone who knows me can tell you I’m kind of a romantic. Which is why I asked about a dozen people if these vows were good or if they were too long and mushy.” He pauses for gentle laughter, “they told me it was fine, so here it goes.” This time he manages to meet Joseph’s eyes. Joseph doesn’t cry easily, but from the way Barclay is looking at him has him halfway there.

“When I was younger I, I was kind of a wanderer. I felt like I was always far away from home, like there was somewhere waiting for me if I could just find it. I found a lot of it here, at Amnesty. Even then it always felt like there was a piece missing. Then you came into my life and little by little I realized my missing piece had found me. And that you made a life I already loved richer and fuller than I ever imagined.” His voice cracks, “I love you Joseph. I love you so much.”

Some of the guests are crying, and he tries not to join them as he takes a deep breath and grips his fiance’s hands, “Barclay, you are the kindest, smartest, most fascinating man I know. You’re an incredible cook and an even better friend. I spent so much of my life searching; searching for new challenges and for answers. But the funny thing about life is that what you’re looking for and what you find can be the same and be worlds apart at the same time. That’s how I feel when we’re together. You were, you are, everything I was looking for. And you’re so much more.”

He’s supposed to take the rings–two black bands shot through with orange crystal and obtained from Sylvain through a combination of favors, diplomacy, and updated trade laws–from his pocket so they can slip them on.

But Barclay is wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and Joseph is close enough to hear the not quite human sounds rumbling from his chest. So instead he takes his husbands face in his hands and rests their foreheads together as he whispers, “it’s okay, big guy, I’m here.”

Barclay cups his face and kisses him so passionately he tastes fire on his tongue. The rest of the ceremony becomes a dim whirl of activity, and looking back he’s pretty sure they fumbled the rings onto their fingers during the embrace. Thacker pronounces them husbands, glass cracks, and all the while his world starts and ends with the man in front of him.

By the time they’ve taken all the necessary family photos and joined their friends at the reception, he’s still walking on air but is at least able to take in new, complex information. Like how Barclay gasps when he sees that the black, bat-shaped ravioli and bloody heart fruit salads are from his favorite restaurant in the world.

Jake already has the wedding playlist pumping through the speakers, songs about love, death, and monsters weaving through the air as they wind their way through the crowd of well-wishers. They find Ned, Aubrey, and Duck clustered near the drinks coffin, their Pine Guard patches replaced for the evening by matching, bat-shaped bow-ties.

After congratulatory hugs (of Joseph as well as Barclay, something he’s still getting used to), Barclay smiles at Ned, “Y’know, this whole day is happening because of you. If you hadn’t shot that fucking video, my special agent would never have come here.”

“I would say it was my pleasure, but it did result in a non-zero number of threats directed at me from various parties, so that tempers things somewhat.” Ned smiles to show that whatever harm was done is water under the bridge.

All the same, Joseph leans closer and adds, “I had a word with a few people in a few relevant counties. You have a remarkably clear record, Mr. Chicane.”

Ned barks out a laugh, “Being around us has rubbed off on you in the best possible way, dear boy.”

They excuse themselves to continue their circuit of the guests as more jack o lanterns magically flicker to life outside and caterers bring in crockpots of cider.

“Did you really do that for him?”

“For the records I could find, yes.”

Joseph can make polite conversation and accept compliments and congratulations all night, but as dinner time creeps closer he can tell Barclay needs a break from the noise. Luckily, they’ve both memorized all the side doors and stealthy exists in the Lodge.

They wander to the edge of the hot springs, to a bench surrounded by plants that snuck over from Sylvain on the bottoms of peoples shoes (Duck found out and corralled all the errant sprouts into container gardens.

Barclay leans against him, “Never thought this’d be my favorite place in the Lodge.”

Joseph slips his hand down Barclay’s pocket, “Even more than the bed in the room where I stayed?”

“That’s a close second. But nothing is gonna beat out our first kiss.”

“Can I say something a little sappy?”

“Any time you want.”

“I thought kisses were only that intense in the movies.” Joseph smiles, “it felt like the world was black and white when I closed my eyes and then I opened them to everything being technicolor. Did it feel like that to you?”

Barclay rumblepurrs and kisses him, “It felt like being found.”

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #promptober 2022 #taz amnesty

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blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk · 9 months

Note

As long as we’re on a hunchback of Notre dam kick, how about a heavens light song fix with freckles?

this both hurts and heals my heart SO OF COURSE

pls I love them so much ;A;

DISCLAIMER: This is a songfic to the song "Heaven's Light" from The Hunchback of Notre Dame! I don’t own the song, don’t claim to, and am not profiting off this piece at all.

So many times out there I’ve watched a happy pair of lovers walking in the night they had a kind of glow around them it almost looked like heaven’s light

Freckles has lost count of the times they’ve lingered by the tents after shows, watching the audiences mingle.

They’ve lost count of the times they’ve watched other people, desperately hoping to just be normal.

In some part of them, they know it’s alright to exist the way they do. There’s nothing really ‘wrong’ with them… but the rest of the world seems to think there is. They see the way people look at them when they have the hair pulled back from their missing eye, or when they change clothing from feminine or masculine to the opposite. Nobody who isn’t an outcast understands them or wants to be with them.

Their family is enough. More than enough.

Sometimes they just wish they and their family belonged with everyone else.

It’s something they seldom feel more than when they’re clinging to a pole, watching the way other people interact with each other. Much as Freckles isn’t shy themself, this sort of thing makes them feel like they don’t fit in.

After all, with the music they can hear Jumbo playing, they can’t run out and bow to a pretty lady and ask her to dance. Not like the men they see doing it, so charming and proper and never rejected. Those people all look so happy, as if the other person is someone they’ve been waiting their whole life to meet.

A couple who were dancing a moment ago have fallen into step, drifting toward the outskirts of the fairground, holding hands. The two of them pay Freckles no mind, too lost in each other’s company to care about anything else.

God, they want that.

I knew I’d never know that warm and loving glow though I might wish with all my might no face as hideous as my face was ever meant for heaven’s light

Not for the first time, they imagine what it must be like. Their gaze follows the couple until the two fade out from where Freckles can see them. Silently, they wish that man and woman a good night.

Then they tighten their arms slightly around the pole they’re hanging off of. The fantasies are clear as day in their mind when they close their eye, that this pole is actually another person; a beautiful lady, perhaps, who’s happy to be pressed against Freckles as the two of them dance to Jumbo’s harmonica. It’s so deep, so much of a desire, that Freckles thinks they can smell some fine, gentle perfume.

A smile settles onto their face ― homesick for a person they’ll probably never meet.

What startles them out of their pleasant trance is a gasp that makes them think something’s wrong. When they open their eye, though, it becomes apparent that it’s just the world’s way of snapping them back to reality.

A woman, on the arm of a man, points at Freckles and whispers something to the man. She probably thinks she’s being inconspicuous, but they know damn well that she’s talking about them.

In their swaying from the daydream, the bangs which usually cover the left side of their face fell away from it. The woman’s reaction to it, Freckles thinks, is a bit much. Even so, their face flushes red with shame, and they hurry to sweep their bangs back into place, a shaking hand holding them there.

That side of their face is a mess. This is just one more reminder that the gnarled, scarred, ugly stretch of flesh where an eye should be isn’t something the world will simply tolerate. No one normal could love that part of them.

One more reminder of why their fantasies are just fantasies.

But suddenly an angel has smiled at me and kissed my cheek without a trace of fright I dare to dream that she might even care for me

They’re about to pull away and head back to their tent when, abruptly, a pair of hands close around theirs on the pole.

The blush doesn’t leave their face, because the hands belong to a lovely young lady with eyes that rival the stars. She’s so close to Freckles, out of nowhere, without any warning. Her hands are a warm contrast to the cool night air and are firm but gentle around theirs.

Most breathtaking is the smile on her face. They’ve never seen such a gorgeous smile, so full of kindness and genuine acceptance.

The woman gestures with her head toward the couple who are now walking away. “Don’t pay her any mind. She’s just jealous that you’re prettier than she is.”

Freckles quickly ducks their head down. Whether it’s to further conceal their blush or keep this woman from seeing the left side of their face, they’re not even sure. They just feel so flustered. “N… nah… she’s all done up ‘n’ ‘igh class ‘n’ ev’rythin’…”

“So? That doesn’t mean anything.” Her body leans against the rail, ever closer, and she tilts Freckles’ head up with a delicate hand. They’re forced to look right at her, (oh, how terrible, is the sardonic remark that drips from their mind), memorizing every little scrap of her beauty they can find.

Before they can fully comprehend what’s happening, the woman has cupped their cheek… and combed their bangs out of place. Their heart pounds against their chest with a power that threatens to break their ribs. Their breath turns into little gasps as if the air can’t find its way into their lungs fast enough.

They’re a little embarrassed of the fact that they nearly start to cry. They’re not afraid of her ― they’re afraid that she’ll run away, that she’ll think they’re ugly. This is the closest they’ve ever come to having the life they watch other people have, and even if it’s just a moment, they don’t want to ruin it by shattering this woman’s image of them.

She just chuckles, though, and presses a kiss to their left cheek. It’s so near the part of them that other people think is wrong… nobody else has ever come this close to it who isn’t family.

They can feel their face burning. Her hand runs through their hair with a hum. The way she speaks next implies that they weren’t fast enough in hiding their face a minute ago.

She saw their missing part the first time. It didn’t scare her off. She wanted to see it again. It didn’t stop her from kissing them.

“You should wear your hair back like this, you know. You’re very handsome.” Even when her hand traces back down to their cheek, she doesn’t seem put off at all. Her thumb runs lightly over their cheek, dangerously close to the edges of their scarred flesh. They almost forget to breathe.

Finally, she draws away, and her warmth slowly bleeds out from the pole as well as Freckles’ skin. “By the way, what’s your name? Mine’s (Name).”

“I-I… uh… I’m… ah. I… Doll ‘r Freckles. Either one’s fine.” Their voice comes out in a mumble, so unlike their typical self. “Nice… nice t’ meet y’.”

“You too.” Her smile shines twice as bright, then she takes a few steps toward the main path. “I have to get going. Be back tomorrow night, though. I’ll see you then, precious?”

All they can do is nod. No more words are coming out.

But if they have to move a mountain, they’re going to see this woman again.

and as I ring these bells tonight my cold, dark tower seems so bright

They stare after (Name) as she leaves, and this time, their heart hammering in their chest is something they don’t mind.

They let themself take a few gradual steps out of the tent, a little dust from the dirt swirling around their white shoes. For once in their life, they actually feel… wanted. They feel like they could belong with this woman. Maybe.

All the hope they have left in their heart is praying that she does come back.

For now, they have work to do. The strings on their limbs are being pulled like the puppet they are.

As they walk toward the place where their family is meeting tonight, however, there’s a lightness in their bones that they haven’t felt before.

Someone wants them.

Somebody kissed them.

They dare the rest of the world to take this feeling away.

I swear it must be heaven’s light!

#Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Doll/Freckles #songfic #scenario #romantic #fluff #hurt/comfort #UGHHHHH MY HEART!!!#one hell of a queue

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bisexualklausmikaelson · 2 years

Text

and all the magic we made (16/20)

Rebekah is the first to notice that today, Klaus is wearing his favorite jacket.

It’s the one with the navy striped pattern inside - the outside is dark brown. It’s so unlike the usual clothes he’d pick for himself. Ripped jeans, black leather, gray sweaters, he was one step up from his highschool teenage self.

This jacket though was different. It used to belong to Finn, he got it back when he first met the love of his life, Sage. Then, he outgrew it the summer Elijah turned seventeen and it was his turn to inherit the jacket.

Klaus knew that at some point, he’d have to give this jacket to Kol.

It’s a tradition between brothers, one that they all hold dear - so of course, he wears this article of clothing the day Freya, Elijah and Finn are leaving town again.

Rebekah, Klaus and Kol arrive to see them off at the airport.

“Well,” Kol sighs, waving them away as the three of them pass through border security. “There they go, off to who knows where,” he grumpily says.

His sister places a warm hand over his shoulder, realizing that Kol was still mourning Davina’s rejection. And, in turn, he was not ready to say goodbye to the rest of his siblings, as of yet.

“Kol,” she whispers, “they’ll be back soon, they just have some work to do, that’s all,” her attempts to soothe her dear brother fails as he continues to pout.

He then notices the big smile plastered on Klaus’ face.

“And what’s got you so chipper?” He asks.

Klaus raises a brow. “What ever do you mean?”

Kol rolls his eyes. “You’ve been grinning like a damned fool all morning,” he says. “Meanwhile, Bekah and I are heartbroken, betrayed…turned away by people whom we love dearly.”

He reminds him, as he recalls Marcel’s haste behavior at the party last night and who could forget Kol’s embarrassing antic of trying to get engaged.

“Oh my God.” And just then, Rebekah puts the pieces together. “Something happened with Hayley, didn’t it?”

Her brother’s blushing cheeks gives him away.

“I knew it!” She exclaims, throwing her arms around Klaus. “Oh, I’m so glad, I knew you two would patch things up!”

Klaus doesn’t say much else, he rubs his sister’s back as she holds him closer.

Kol doesn’t add a word either - he’s much too busy continuing to sulk and burn a jealous stare into his sibling.

(Although, somewhere, underneath all that envy, he is happy for Klaus).

Back at the Marshall residence - time to daydream is rather rare.

Between getting Hope ready for school, packing lunch, and getting herself ready for work - Hayley is almost caught off-guard by the fleeting memories of last night’s kiss with Klaus.

At first, she thought she would regret it.

She was supposed to never forgive him.

But, to her dismay, Klaus had indeed grown as a person since the last time she had seen him. She can’t help but think that she doesn’t want to hold on to her anger anymore.

It’s so…exhausting. Fighting her feelings, her attraction to him, her love for him -

Knock knock!

“Hey there stranger.”

And then, there is Marcel.

She can’t pretend she hasn’t noticed him either. Even though Hayley is swept off her damned feet by Klaus’ affection, Marcel’s presence is…unwavering.

“I wasn’t expecting you this morning,” she tells him. “Donuts again?” she notices.

He nods, raising the box and walking into her home like he lives there. “Fresh from Josh’s Bakery,” he knows where everything is - the place where she puts all the snacks to keep away from Hope, where she hides her cigarettes, where the bananas go -

“We’re just about to leave, Hope is still watching cartoons upstairs,” it sounds like she’s rushing him out, like she knows what’s about to come.

He’s thought about her for so long.

“I wanted to tell you this last night, at the party,” Marcel confesses. “But something else came up - anyway, the point is…” His hands shake and her eyes avert his gaze. She can’t even look at him right now. “After the Mikaelsons left town and we only had each other, I grew really close to you,” he recalls to her. “I remember helping you during your pregnancy, being in the hospital when you gave birth, Hope’s first words-”

“Marcel-”

“Hayley Marshall,” He gets closer, almost too close. “I think…I’m in love with you.”

And she wishes her heart hadn’t wavered, that it hadn’t, for one second, just thought about it.

For if she hadn’t, things would be so clear. Her answer would be Klaus - but, when she looks into Marcel’ eyes…she can’t help but imagine.

She can’t help but dream.

After his short trip to the airport, Kol’s mind is still wrapped around Davina’s rejection.

He continues to be cooped up in the same hotel room as Rebekah and Klaus - refusing to be alone for even a second. As long as he has his siblings, he weirdly feels invincible.

Like he can even get through this - as long as his sister’s hand continues to ruffle his curls and his brother’s smile haunts his mind…he is alright.

Better even, he is good.

“Hey. I’m outside your hotel. Let’s talk”

Until he isn’t.

Kol stares at the text from Davina for over a minute, just to check if it’s real. And then, he rushes down to the lobby.

(He has this entire speech prepared - in his mind, he is brave, he is strong, he is smooth with his words and assertive. However, as soon as he sees her and she’s wearing that scrunchie he gave her on their fourth date - he loses it).

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he exhales.

“Kol,” she laughs as he runs into her arms. “You’re so dramatic,” she sighs, patting his hair down while he softly sobs into her touch.

“First, you reject my proposal and now, you’re making fun of me?” he whines.

She wipes his tears away, trying to hold him even closer. “I’m sorry,” Davina finally tells him. “I never meant to hurt you with my decision, you know you have my heart - just marriage, it’s a big deal you know? We’re just kids, are we even ready for something like that? And you never even talked about it with me-”

“I know,” he cuts her off, finally done with the crying, done with moping around. “I just…I was swept up in the passion of it all. You know how we Mikaelsons are?”

Davina smiles widely. “Yes, I’m aware. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

He breathes easy as she softly places her smooth fingers against his cheeks. She pulls his face close and they are nose to nose. “I guess I could wait…just a little longer for you. Actually, you know I’d wait for you forever, Davina.”

She quietly giggles. “Oh Kol,” Davina sings. “I promise I won’t make you wait that long.”

So he wears his brother’s jacket.

The jacket that smells like old pine, wood and faded cologne.

Klaus spends his evening reading poetry books, while Rebekah softly plays her reality shows in the background - it’s a kind of night he hasn’t had in a while.

Between his feelings for Hayley and his dramatic family…and his daughter. Klaus hasn’t had much time for himself.

And that reality is sure to fade the minute Hayley asks him to see her.

With an instant, he is jumping out of bed, grabbing his shoes and running out the door.

“Here to continue what we started?” He says, in the smoothest way possible.

He’s disappointed when he’s met with her frown - she takes a step towards him, her tone is somber.

“We need to talk.”

#klayley #to #the originals #hayley marshall #klaus mikaelson #munea writes #kolvina

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electricbluebutterflies · 1 year

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“we couldn’t find a condom so we’re getting each other off in other ways” + garcy

Usual post-canon-divergent 'verse / look y'all I wrote smut and I don't hate it! Also on ao3.

There are, on occasion, some distinct downsides to living in isolation.

There’s the fact that, when in his own timeline, Flynn’s world is limited to half a dozen people – almost all of whom are excellent housemates, he will point out, but it’s still a damn fishbowl. There’s the fact that, while the current safehouse is spacious and being the only structure for several miles means outdoor time is an option too, being stuck in the same place gets boring at a certain point. And right now in particular, there is a particular set of issues regarding supply runs and things that are awkward to clearly put on a list that someone else, likely someone he is several degrees removed from who he will never meet, will have to interpret and acquire and-

One of these days he’s going to accept that normal penetrative sex with his current partner is just… not going to safely happen until their war is over. Today is not quite that day. Adapting to the circumstances, yes, fine; being calm about it, not so much.

He can’t recall ever being the more practical one in a dynamic before – his late wife, much more predictably his type to the extent that he’s ever consciously had one, was impeccably cautious and set her boundaries very clearly. Lucy, by contrast, is impulsive and self-destructive and he knows her tendencies all too well and someone has to be the more reasonable one and-

It’s hard to make good choices when she’s kissing him like she’s never wanted anything more in the world, but he’s trying.

She pulls away and lays herself out on their bed, this bed he’s not sure was designed to accommodate a human body of his size let alone a smaller one in addition but they’ve made it work since she decided she sleeps better curled up with him and oh there really is no going back from this. If there is a life after, if they both survive, it will involve her and some kind of attempted domesticity somewhere quiet and-

He wants so many things right now, and very few of them are good ideas, and at least he’s capable of making good choices, and-

“We can’t-“

“I wasn’t… let me daydream for five seconds,” she sighs, almost a pout. “Let me forget for five fucking seconds that none of this is normal.”

At least she allows that caution. At least… after what she’s been through, he couldn’t fault her for anything, but she’s been cooperative enough about this one boundary he’s defined, and there are still so many other ways they can take care of each other, and-

“Move down for me,” he says, halfway to an idea.

She does, legs parted, plan understood before he’s even sure about it. She’d been more hesitant the first time he went down on her, a few months ago now – bad history, he suspects, not bad enough that he felt a need to ask about it but clearly past partners hadn’t properly enjoyed her. He… is trying to be less proud and to compare himself less to what he does not know, but he’d like to think he’s at least competent in whatever he does, and he was happily married for over a decade and that’s a more pleasant lingering ghost in this new relationship, and-

He knows what he’s doing, he thinks as he places a kiss right above her slit. If this is the easiest and safest way to have her, so be it.

Lucy is, he is learning, more delicate than she thinks and decidedly not used to attention. She has this tendency to make herself small – again, questions he won’t ask about past lovers because he suspects the answers would wake up something territorially violent in him – and he is trying to bring her out of it but that sort of thing takes time. Years, probably. Decades. The rest of natural lifetimes he’s unsure they’ll get.

They are here now, in this room that was probably never meant for two occupants but they’ve lived peacefully for months, and he is not trying to fix her. Let that be his defense, if some higher power decides to side-eye this shade of his life choices. She is perfect, her sensitive parts warm and soft and begging to be kissed, and what changes he would wish upon her would only be to add to her happiness and take her pain. Perhaps he is the wrong person to give her this, perhaps in a better world she would find her way with someone who doesn’t have such a perfectly complete set of emotional baggage, but…

They are here now, and he adores her, and the goddamn moment they return to civilian life he’s going to thoroughly wreck her in some cheap roadside motel and that too will not quite be what she deserves, and that’s enough future motivation to make both of them behave.

He can’t help but wonder if she’s naturally quiet or if she’s just adapted herself to the circumstances, if she’ll be different as a lover when they are not living like sardines and the walls around them are far too thin. She is perfect caution now – he glances up to see her bite her lip and skip a breath, the only signs that her body feels the right things, that he has done right by her. Another thing to add to the list of future daydreams, he decides. Find out if she can scream. Find out if-

No. He highly doubts that’s who she is. Still a pleasant thought.

She melts down to the floor beside him and takes a few kisses, and she’s wide-eyed and soft like she almost never is and it’s a goddamn tragedy that he can’t move her just slightly and let their bodies rest together and-

“Okay if I just touch you?” she asks, and in her hesitance he has another undirected homicidal thought.

“Please.”

It’s not ideal but it’s enough, her hand almost too light on his cock, they have time they have time they have time and she is using every second she can, the closeness and the kindness of her, he wants to close his eyes and he can’t, he can’t miss a single moment of the way she looks at him, like everything he’s ever been has led up to this, to her, to-

He does not naturally run quiet, and he accidentally bites her lip hard enough to draw blood but at least no one else heard anything.

“I didn’t mean to…”

“You didn’t mean to,” she repeats like that makes it completely okay.

“If I-“

“For all the things you’ve done, you still apologize too much,” she says, untangling their bodies and wiping her hands on his discarded shirt. “You don’t need to. Not with me. Not anymore.”

He did, he forces himself to remember vividly, basically ruin her life. On multiple occasions. That she still decided to accept his various offerings of atonement, that they have still become something almost functional, is…

“I will never deserve you,” he murmurs.

“I’ve heard that one before, but… you say it nicer.”

There are too many things he’d like to say to that, but instead he moves behind her and kisses the back of her neck. “However many times it takes you to believe it.”

“Might take a while.”

“I can wait.”

#ebf writes fic #garcy #queue

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