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oppabimbab · 3 years

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risky and freaky | kim namjoon

genre: smut

starring: namjoon x reader

synopsis: he has been busy with online meetings but you’re horny. what a risky combination

words: 2,730 words ( a very quick one )

tags: slight dom reader, handjob, bl*w!job, fingering, slight dom namjoon, cl*t tease, degrad!ng, unprotected s*x, hot!namjoon, submissive reader

side notes: namjoon is really hot for some unique reason so i made this after have been stucked with jk and taehyung fics for so long. actually, im a bad writer idont even know what im doing but tq so much for reading this :D

STAY SAFE EVERYONE. WEAR YOUR MASKS AND NEVER GO OUT IF YOU DONT HAVE ANY IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO.

A faint chatter sound can be heard from Namjoon’s studio as he is casually playing a sneak peek of his new composed song to his team through the Zoom meeting.

This has become his daily routine ever since the quarantine started in your area because of the damn virus. Honestly, you don’t really care about quarantine since you’re doing it with your boyfriend. That means you have so many hours to spend with him, doing things both of you love and plus, you could rest as much as you want.

Few days of quarantine seems nice and all but things turn into something different than you thought. Namjoon becomes extremely busy with his online meetings. From days to nights, he will do some sort of camping in his studio—completely forgot that he has life other than those damn composing shit. Especially his sex life.

You’re not happy, obviously. Rather than being sad or angry, you feel more needy and desperate every time he didn’t give you the attention you needed. Plus, Namjoon in that casual t-shirt and sweatpants? Of course, you’re horny. He is so hot.

You lean against the door—looking at him who probably can’t see you over there. But, surprisingly, he sees you.

He looks away from the screen and glances at you for few seconds while raising his brows before he mouthed, “What’s up, baby?”.

You don’t say anything as you help yourself from pouting at him. It’s really frustrating. Not gonna lie. He is there in one of the God-knows-how-many meetings he has done with the other members. The meeting seems chaotic and loud with laughter from the boys.

After few seconds, you come closer to him and lean against the desk—being cautious for not getting in the camera so the boys won’t see you in Namjoon’s shirt with only panties and no bra.

“Guys, I need some break. Go on without me,” he says as he turns off the mic and camera before he brings his eyes to you.

“What’s wrong, baby? Do you need something?” He places his big hands on your hip, giving it a small pat while he stares into your eyes with curiosity.

“I miss you,” you say. What a clingy bitch.

He raises his brows in amusement before chuckling.

“I’ll be done in 1 hour. I promise you okay?”

You frown.

“You said that 2 hours ago?”

“Did I?”

You nod with frowned face. So he wants you to wait for another hour before you could suck his cock? Hilarious.

“I really promise you. I’ll give you whatever you want once I’m done with these. Alright?” he rubs your thigh casually while smiling but little did he know, it’s arousing you in the wildest way ever. You get butterflies everywhere and the knot in your stomach is getting crazy.

Before you could say anything, Namjoon averts his attention back on the screen before turning on the camera and mic. He signals you to wait or probably leaves the room. The meeting goes back to the most chaotic ever—leaving you here with crazy arousal. What a torture.

He might want you to wait for another hour but it doesn’t seem that way to you. Not at all when you slowly get off from the desk and get on your knees. Quietly, you slip in between his legs under the desk. You immediately witness such horror look on Namjoon’s face as he looks down at you but nothing comes out from his mouth.

He can’t say anything, can he?

“I’ll be quiet,” you whisper at him and he seems speechless. Without letting him to protest, you trail your hand closer to his clothed shaft under that thick sweatpants. Namjoon almost jerks when you finally palm them inside your small hand. A familiar liquid feels coming out from your cunt at the touch.

“So big, your cock,” your eyes stare at the bulge—completely mesmerised at the size even this is not your first time touching or even seeing it. Namjoon’s eyes are glued on the screen even you clearly can see how intimidated he has become—all because of your touch. Of course. He likes this.

“You like this?” you whisper in a very needy voice while looking at him.

You keep grabbing, rubbing and touching the shaft but there is barely any whimper or such moan from him, making you want more. You need more.

His eyes become bigger when you reach for the strap of his pant and immediately pull them down. He catches your hand and mouthed, “What are you doing?!”. Completely ignoring him, you pull the sweatpants down until his bulge under the boxer finally come to your sight. Without no doubt, you grab them quickly and it’s making Namjoon to let out a small whimper, a very faint one.

“Huh? What’s wrong with you dude?” you heard Yoongi’s voice from the screen. Namjoon immediately turns pale. Holy shit, this is fun.

“Nothing. It’s cold here,” he makes up some weird excuse while rubbing the back of his head. You know he wants to look down at you but it will just make the other boys become suspicious so he just let you do whatever you want to do. That’s the best part.

Enough with the clothed service, you pull his boxer in such speed—making his huge cock sprung to your sight in a very delicious way. You could feel how wet your panty is.

They’re huge, long and hard—your mouth probably is going to sore so fucking bad after this. You stare at it for few seconds before you look up at him, waiting for his reactions.

You meet his eyes. They’re darkened. His pupil seems dilated. Gosh, he is fucking hot.

“Do you want me to suck it?” you whisper while giving a soft peck on the bruised tip. There is a pre-cum on it and you lick it clean—causing his hips to move slightly. Namjoon don’t give any reactions but he immediately runs his fist in your hairs before pulling your face closer to his shaft.

It’s crazy that he could keep such a straight face while his dick is this hard. You smile before opening your mouth to take his length into your mouth—completely burying his hardened shaft inside your mouth until the tip reaches your throat.

As you’re adjusting to his size, slowly, your head starts to move up and down—sucking every parts of his cock. You never take him fully before because of his size but this time, you try to taste every parts of the length and you’re not disappointed of it even you feel like choking yourself. He jerks his hip towards you, reaching your throat before you could hear another faint whimper coming from him..

Honestly, it’s not only him. You feel good too. Licking, rubbing and kissing the veins along the cocks—you try to help yourself from moaning no matter how good this feels like. You trail a finger to your wet clit and touch it —spreading the cunty liquid all over them. The damn meeting really makes you and him become this oddly quiet for something erotic. You definitely aren’t this quiet when giving or receiving sex.

Slowly, you pull down your panty and flinch a little at the cold on your bare pussy.

Wanting to see his reactions, you look up while clenching your mouth around the hardened shaft and pumping them in your hand up and down. The veins in his neck and arms are popping to the point you don’t really care about anything else right now. He needs to wreck the fuck outta you now. The saliva keeps drenching along your neck—making the wet sound echoes through the room.

“Baby.....,” you moan as the knot in your stomach is driving you crazy.

“Hsss. Babe, I—ugh fuck,” he curses, out of breath. It’s pretty loud for someone who is in a meeting but you don’t really care about it.

“Baby.....I want you inside me,” you mewls—rubbing his cock in between your hands while looking at him straight into the eyes. You never been this needy before, what exactly quarantine has done to you?

Without answering you, he suddenly stands up on his feet as he fists your hair harder before thrusting his hip even deeper into your mouth—fucking your mouth like an aggressive beast. A soft moan escapes your mouth as you try to catch up with his pace.

“Yes, yes. Take my big cock with that pretty mouth of yours,” He grunts in every thrust without taking the eye contacts off you Tears prick in the corner of your eyes but it feels too good for you to stop.

After few more thrust, you could feel his cock grow bigger and harder as it twitches inside your mouth. You know He is getting closer when he breathes faster and a small breathy grunts come out from his mouth.

“Do you want to taste my cum, baby? Are you going to swallow it all, huh?” his deep voice is echoing throughout the room—making it’s hard to not moan at the pleasure.

You nod softly. He smiles before he takes his shaft out of your mouth with a loud pop—rubbing the length for few seconds as his seed is plastering on all over your face and mouth as you already stick your tongue out like a puppy. Namjoon is twitching when he cums—probably feel really good the oral you just gave. You lick every drops of the white semen coming from the tip—cleaning them by sucking the cock for one last time.

“Fuck, you’re freaky, do you know that?” he says in breathy voice—running a hand through his hair while his dick still few inches away from your face. Still hard as fuck

“Are your members okay with us moaning just now?” you ask, innocently while still licking his cum on your lips. You know he’s got them camera and mic turned off.

His jaw is clenched, showing off the veins along his neck. He is mad, huh.

“Get up,” he commands seriously and in a blink of eyes, you did what he told you to do so. The crazy thing is you never want to look away from his sexy eyes.

“Turn around and spread your legs wide,”

Hiding a smile, you turn around so you’re facing the screen and it’s immediately making you blush when you see his friends on the Zoom meeting. They surely can’t see what both of you are doing now but this honestly feels like they are looking at you right on the eyes while you do the nasty deed.

Before you could say anything, a scream escapes your mouth just right after he thrusts his length deep from behind inside you—stretching your walls with the throbbing cock with no mercy. Namjoon don’t even let you to adjust with his size as he starts to move back and forth—forcing his hip onto you. Your eyes are rolled back at the sensation. He is fucking huge inside you and the way his cock fits in your cunt—Holy shit, this is heaven.

“Mmmm—nghhhh,” you moan through gritted teeth as he found your sensitive spot and abuse it over and over again. Nails are clawed into the desk, your body arched in such desire. This feels so good, just like you wanted.

“Moan as much as you want. I know my big cock is stretching your pussy so well,” he whispers in your ears before you could feel his pace quickened. Both of you are grinding on each other, making you tremble inside his embrace. You throw your head back and scream his name.

“Namjoon....Nghh, like that, mmm,” you beg, holding on to his firm arms for support as he bangs himself inside you. Your body bounce every time he pumps himself inside you.

“You’re a fucking nasty slut. Sucking my cock during my meeting like that,”

“Yes!! Oh fuck,” you scream with eyes closed. Breath hitched, legs trembled, mouth opened.

“You want them to know you’re getting fucked tonight? Huh? You want them to see how good I fuck you?” he bites your neck, not even slowing down his pace. Namjoon reaches the mouse to turn on the camera but you stop him immediately.

“No, don’t do that,” you say in between moan and whimper. He chuckles.

“You don’t like it? What do you want then?” he pulls your hair slightly while the other hand is on your hips to synchronise your pace with him.

“You,”

“This?” he grunts as he thrusts even deeper—giving your ass a few slaps as he grope your tits in his other big warm hand, pinching the nipple to bring another scream from your mouth. Namjoon stares at his length getting burried in your pussy while biting down his lower lip. He probably feels as good as you do.

“Look at how dirty you are. Begging for my cock like a nasty kitten,” he bites his lower lip—hiding a satisfied smile.

The slapping sound and your lewd scream are filling the room along with the chatting sound from the boys in the meeting. It’s a weird combination but none of you cares about it.

“Your dick feels amazing in my pussy. I—fuck, Namjoon. Yes, yes, yes!!! like that,” you scream when the tip reaches your walls. Holy shit.

Sweat pricks on your body. Your vision goes blurry. Namjoon brings you closer to him as he finds you stumbling on your feet.

Sticky liquid keeps dripping down your thigh before your legs start to feel wobbly as you are reaching for the climax. The knot in your stomach is twirling like crazy, wanting to release the cum from the cunt. You clench around him—he groans out loud before putting one of his finger into your mouth. Like a good girl, you suck on them long fingers.

Both of you moan. Like crazy.

“Gonna cum. I’m gonna cum, Namjoon. Shit, I’m cumming now,” you scream with tears prickling on your eyes—grinding on him even more to increase the pleasure so that you can cum in peace. He is pumping into your sweet spots more and more, not giving a fuck at your begging.

“Cum on my dick, slut. Coat me with your cum like you always do,” his voice is calm yet aggressive to the point you feel nothing but him.

And you did as he told you. Body keeps flinching everytime the sticky juice coming from your pussy—coating every part of his long dick. He groans at the warm feeling before he starts to fill your pussy with his semen—the same one that fills your mouth.

“Fuckkkkk, this is good,” he grunts.

Both you and him moan out loud—taking each other’s seed before he pulls out of you. Silence fills the room as you both catching some air from the intense fuck you had as you lean against his chest.

“Baby...” you call him, almost losing your voice.

“Hm?” he hums against your neck.

“They’re waiting for you,” you chuckle while looking at the screen. He shakes his head.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Namjoon mumbles as he shuts down his laptop without saying anything to the boys before he swings you across one of his shoulder—causing you to scream in surprise. Your pussy is still throbbing.

“I’m gonna fuck you all night baby. So hard that you don’t even know how to walk tomorrow,”

#namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon smut #rm smut #seokjin #jin #suga #yoongi #j-hope #hoseok #jimin #jungkook #taehyung #bts smut #bts #bts imagine #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jimin smut #kpop #rm

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yunsoh · 3 years

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alrighty season 3 ep 2 thoughts. this post got ridiculously long so the rest is under a read more:

- literally i love every single time we see akito sleeping in this long and empty room. there’s something very encompassing about how empty it is + how the angle emphasizes it, especially when we can clearly see she’s sharing her bed

- shigure and tohru’s moments alone are always soo so sweet. their relationship so far is very much one where there’s a lot of affection between them (which ofc makes one of their biggest scenes together during the final act feel especially hurtful even though it’s a side of shigure we’re well aware of by that point -- it’s just something that tohru up until that point hadn’t witnessed, much less been directly confronted with. but i’m getting ahead of myself lmfao moving on)

- actually related to the above love tohru asking “wouldn’t i just be interrogating him?” and “the things kureno told me make me feel like i’m looking into a deep, dark well” just ahh i do love this background progression of shigure and tohru’s relationship and how it reaches a head when they have their talk about kyo later.

- this is perhaps unintentional but: having this shot of machi noticing yuki + clearly having some new feelings about him overlaid with/directly followed by momiji and tohru, where we still know momiji has an unrequited crush on her. yes it makes me laugh a little but it’s also fitting because at this moment in time yuki does not have a crush on machi in return + sees her only as a friend.

- it’s been mentioned but it bears repeating. why are they not progressing momiji’s height whatsoever lmaooo. funny because yuki and kyo have had gradual changes but they’re really just trying to make this growth spurt reveal super jarring huh. also holy shit he looks TINY next to haru in this shot. next

- the one kid in class asking hana to fuck the priyuki girls up but she’s like “actually i really don’t care” LMAO........ love her

- ugh i really love this moment with yuki.......... i think it’s been a while since we’ve seen the general student population (not just the prince yuki girls) still treat him in a revering way, now also in part because he’s the student council president but definitely still because of his reputation as the prince. this was something that was so deeply ostracizing to him early on in the series, and does still remind him of his loneliness -- but that loneliness isn’t crippling to him anymore, because now he does have friends who like him and who he can have fun with.

i’m going to write a bigger post on this later probably because this is a really important progression point in how yuki understands himself to exist in his school’s ecosystem + how his self-esteem is still developing.

- additionally i just want to say that this scene isn’t yuki suddenly falling for machi, or really something to be read as mutually romantic between them -- machi i think absolutely has a crush on him at this point (because he is. the only person who is actually nice to her and considers her existence aside from kakeru but moving on) but yuki’s perception of her at this moment is heavily tied to how he thinks of himself as a friend + whether he’s a worthy enough person to befriend. the fact that machi shatters those doubts for him in such an overt way is important.

- anyways machi is rly cute here i loooove that she’s comfortable being more expressive around him even though it’s mostly out of embarrassment LMAO...... she’s learning how to display her feelings and trusts him with that..... cute.

- also of note yuki putting his hand on the top of her head which is like... he’s trying to convey that he feels they have (or are starting to have) a trusting friendship with each other but it’s like. a bit too much for machi to handle omfg. honestly this goes in hand with way back when ayame patted yuki’s head in praise which was clearly something yuki didn’t receive much of as a kid, and i’m assuming machi also rarely if ever received that same sort of praise. what i’m saying is they’re both trying lmaoo

- also as usual shimazaki’s deliveries are spot on yuki is soooo fucking cute in this scene. “what? seriously? they’re even worse than the ones i made” he’s so casual and funny with her it’s so good

- okay the timeskip to sunset makes me laugh it makes it seem like tohru and kyo have just been waiting in that room alone for hourssss

- ugh how sexy would it have been if the brief flashback to kureno + the music overlay had been cut out here. like tohru seeing the birds and then turning to ask kyo what he would think if someone’s curse had been broken would have gotten the message across just as well + i think would have been more emotionally impactful.

- tohru’s expression here though is so good just. ugh. will say this point in hers and kyo’s relationship is just so tasty because he really is her most trusted confidant but she’s also so aware of anything that could be construed as him rejecting her or pushing her away, which now that she’s getting especially wrapped up in the family’s secrets...... it’s a thin line she’s walking w wanting to protect him but not wanting to push him away bc he’s resigned to what will happen

- this visual is so weeeeeird aoghjksd the screen being framed by her bangs. what. why

- hmmmm in general idk if the flower scene hit very well. it felt kind of awkward? kyo and tohru both seemed really stiff which is weird because literally just a minute ago they were animated pretty well tbh

- this post is already so long and i only JUST started the akigure part of the ep....... i’m so sorry

- machi and kyo both handing off white flowers to yuki and tohru respectively and then we’re hit with shigure giving akito a red flower instead. obviously because akito is symbolized by red camellias + to refer back to her memory of shigure giving one to her, but also just basic color symbolism -- white being more indicative of purity and new beginnings, red being something both passionate, evocative, dangerous.

- oh we’re back to the kids. it is not in fact akigure time yet.

- i loooove this tohru outfit so much she’s so cute in it. also ig it bears mentioning because i didn’t say anything about it last time, but the reboot hinting more directly to the audience that something bad happened to rin, rather than just her disappearing entirely, is def more overt than in the manga. that short scene of ren intercepting rin in the last ep was chronological yes, but in the manga we don’t see that happen until after we know that akito’s been keeping her in the cat’s room. so just by tohru mentioning that she hasn’t seen or heard from rin in a while, we’re clued in that something bad to her must have happened because of ren. which i don’t think is a bad decision honestly -- since ren is set up as the antagonist for this season, it might make viewers assume that ren did something bad to her, only for it to be revealed that it was akito and that akito is still becoming more and more unhinged. but that also ren is unhinged. disasters.

- “i’m sorry, i’m afraid i do have parents” this rly is just the mid-20s mood isn’t it

- mitsuru fucking hissing at shigure i cannot

- nakamura’s acting during this phone scene is so goooood oh my god. the LOATHING. honestly this alone just makes me crazy abt the insanity that is akito + kureno + shigure like jesus christ.

- kureno’s pitiful little “nii-san” after shigure obliterates his entire life. there we go

- honestly it’s funny how shigure’s expression looks when akito yells at him for sleeping with ren because for a moment it looks like he has NO idea what she’s talking about but then. nope. he fucked her mom.

- do like the little detail of akito pointing as she tells shigure to get out, but when he leaves he just turns in the opposite direction. like truly he has never followed orders to the t once in his life.

- this shot of ren is so fucking absurd oh my god. pls get ur male gaze directing out of here.

- “i... thought you forgot” man the way this is delivered feels really striking. i think because akito is never caught off guard in a way that surprises her in such a quiet way, or in a way that leaves her plainly vulnerable. like her vitriol towards him has to do with the fact that she feels he’s abandoning the bond they used to have (and ofc they bond they have through the curse), and that memory of him does act as a linchpin.

- it’s primo bitchy shigure hours. primo akito meltdown hours.

- this shot is soooo foreboding wow. straight up darkness. tho i kind of wish this shot was used instead for the “i want to crush her to a pulp” line, or at the very least that the shot for that line was just framed differently

- god they’re so fucking awful for each other. purely just a disaster duo. shigure taking control of the conversation + dismissing akito’s meltdown and emotional manipulation leaves akito feeling the only way she can have control over him is through seducing him since no other method works. the convo that has with her accusing him of sleeping with a lot of other women + her not knowing how to handle the fact that he slept with ren, and ofc the convo it has with her misogyny and how she views herself. they have this really vitriolic push and pull for control because akito doesn’t know what to do when she loses any control at all, and shigure’s grasping at what little control he can have considering how their power dynamics work with the bond -- walking away when she’s being manipulative, refusing to coddle her. like shigure’s wish for them to be on an equal playing field without the curse is a pipe dream because their relationship is just so, so damaged as is and is so heavily informed by what has already happened between them. takaya why did you have them end up together for realsies why did you--

- what is with the reboot team making akito break down the walls and doors all the time lmfao. bro the structural damage caused by this little 90lb disaster.

- i think i understand why they took it out (like maybe it would have been too overt with how they’ve set up the audience to expect something bad happened to rin after running into ren) but man they really just didn’t adapt one of the most haunting parts of the series huh. like this shot of rin being trapped inside the cat’s room right beside shigure thinking “i’ll be waiting for you” maaaan man!!

- okay addendum: apparently she is in the room. in hindsight i did notice this but it did not register as a person because i thought it was just a glare on the window 😭

#fruits basket #fruits basket spoilers #holy shit this post is long i'm so sorry LMAO..... i had so much to say

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smokingtomas · 6 years

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#1 for Sorina? And if it’s not too much trouble could you make it in Akai Ito’s universe? Pretty pls, I’ve been missing it!

Of course! And thank you for missing Akai Ito xD

1.“I love you, please don’t go.”

Turns out someone else’s wedding, can also be a turning point for her love life as well– or so she thought when Italian sunshine wakes her up from the deepest, most blissful sleep she’s ever had.

Erina certainly doesn’t mind the view next to her. His head still faces the pillow, butt is partly covered with sheet. She loves those many knots that decorate his strong back, remembering how her fingers were buried in it last night for the first time.

Yes, after the Takumi-Megumi wedding reception had wrapped up, they ended up in Sōma’s hotel room before moving into hers at dawn, and let’s just say they have been consummating each other like bunnies, or so she thought something Alice would say if she finds out about this.

The thought gets her head shaking– even when she’s tracing his peaceful self like this, Alice still has to pop up, but really, she can’t complain much right now.

Hm, chocolate truffles sound good for breakfast.

According to her good mood, she has to follow her random thoughts. So she puts on Sōma’s undershirt and shimmies outside to phone a large order of groceries before giddily cooking some three-course gourmet breakfast to Chateau by Angus & Julia Stone after a crapload of brown bags arrive at her doorstep.

“Jesus Christ, Nakiri. Ain’t that music too loud for early mornings?”

If only Erina isn’t distracted by the fact that his bedhead wears him better than most male models- or how he’s not wearing anything above his sweatpants, she would’ve scolded that half-groan of his more intensely.

“It’s 11 am already, idiot. And do not go back to your room just yet. I’m making breakfast.”

“I mean, how can I? You’re wearing my shirt.” He approaches her and lands a peck on her cheek. “What’re you making?”

“We’re starting with vanilla bean yogurt parfait with granola, dried fruit, and fresh berries. Then Italian sausage stuffed hasselback potatoes with eggs, over easy, obviously. And… chocolate truffles in the fridge.”

Across the counter, he raises a brow. His expression clearly screams something like wow-that-is-so-unlike-you.

“W-What?”

“Someone’s in a good mood.” Sōma smirks devilishly. She should’ve known better after all these years– he would brag.

“Wh-What?! What exactly gives it away, Yukihira?!”

“You only make chocolate truffles when you’re in a good mood.” He reminds her, which results in more denial on her side.

“I-I sure do not!”

“Though I can’t blame ya, last night was pretty amazing, eh?”

See? She called it– better not get his big head gets even bigger now. “I-I’ve had better. You’re not in your place to be proud.”

“Aaand you’re still a bad liar. You should’ve seen yourself last night.” Sōma strokes her chin on his way towards the fridge. “Well, either way, y’know I’m having a truffle before breakfast.”

“They haven’t set yet, blockhead! Chocolate truffles shouldn’t be eaten–”

Of course, by the time she’s about to start rumbling facts about chocolate truffles, one is already gobbled down by him.

“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff right there.” He groans. She offers him her utmost cynical eyeroll.

“Hmpf. I shouldn’t have told you I made some.”

“Y’know, I think this might be your best batch yet. It’s the maple mousse that makes it bangin’.”

Erina decided not to tell him how chewing a truffle ball while talking decreases his attractive points by half, so she brags, “My batches are always impeccably made, and you know it. Besides, why would you call me at 3 am that night to tell me you’ve made the ultimate chocolate truffle… and with anchovies?!”

“Hey, that one was not as bad as you think.” Sōma argues as he pops another truffle, “Also, looking at where we are now, you should know that I will never, ever stop trying to be a better chef than you are. We clear?”

Intrigued, she respond after shutting the oven door, “Really? Where exactly are we?”

“We’re rivals. Who… happen to enjoy each other’s company. Right?”

At that, she can’t disagree and charm him with a scoff, “Ha. Your sheer tenacity and competitiveness are there, as always. I guess that’s why I love you.”

“What did you just say?”

Holy crap– what did she just say?!

“E-Eh?! I-I said, your sheer tenacity and competitiveness are there, a-as always!”

“No, no. The thing after that.”

Shit, shit, shit. Recover quick, Erina! “I- Th-That was it! Wh-What?! Are you that deaf already?!”

And now he’s smirking on the corner, which he’s trying to hide with his index finger pressed to his nose. She can faintly see the slight blush on his cheek– damn her recovery lie that isn’t good enough to retreat what she said. Great job, Erina.

“What?! That smug face is of yours is half-witted and unpleasant to look at, you know!”

God knows what kind of crimson shade that scatters all over her face now that Sōma ignores her raised voice and slowly approaches her.

“You said you love me.” He grins.

“N-No, I didn’t!”

“Oh? So you don’t?”

“I-I–”

When he stands before her and finds his hand slowly sliding through her waist, she freezes. She knows she can’t counter that- though she would’ve preferred to say it in a different circumstance where she’s not dressed in his ugly t-shirt with no pants on smelling fresh out of bed.

But now when his face inches closer to her lips and heavy breaths escaping, she catches herself grasping his bare skin. Like this, with all her guard down, is actually a perfect timing. Just like how they’ve seen each other’s worst, and yet still choose to stay. Because nothing– nothing can ever overlap their fate. And it’s with each other.

“Stop me now if you don’t.” He says.

She can’t– no, she doesn’t want to.

So that’s how their lips finally meld in a passionate kiss. A kiss so rushed, but so tender at the same time. A kiss that is crucial to Nakiri Erina– she’s finally said it. And for once, she does not care about those hasselback potatoes that is overcooking with her arms draping on his neck.

As he releases her lips slowly, he whispers, “So… what did you wanna say again?”

“I think I’d like you to…” She swallows, “kiss me again.”

“Not before you say those three words again.”

She smiles softly and shakes her head, “I hate you.”

And maybe– just maybe, those three words will permanently be their i love yous.

#shokugeki no soma #sorina #soueri #yukihira soma #nakiri erina #prompt request #soma x erina #hope you like it!

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lore-a-lie · 6 years

Text

Chapter 2, Act 3: A Sonata by Moonlight

Daily Life

Kaede made her way through the gates of greed and lust, only to find Ryoma waiting at the top of the spiral staircase on the other side, candy cig in hand looking out at the two buildings before them as he looked over his shoulder to give her a nod.

“So, things getting any easier on you yet there boss?”

“With what, Angie? Not a chance, there’d be no point in trying to reason with her right now. And please don’t call me that, it’s weird.” Kaede replied, scratching her cheek a bit in embarrassment.

“Whatever you say. Time to get move on I take it?”

“Yeah, I’m not really sure what to be expecting though.”

“My best guess? Literal blackjack, minus the hookers." Ryoma began with a roll of his eyes and a shrug. "But barring that I know there are slots, a fishing game, some car racing, and color crusher type game. Pretty standard arcade stuff more than a genuine casino, they even use tokens instead of chips. They barely even look different from the monocoins.”

“Are casinos really so different? I only kinda know about them from western movies.”

“Yeah, I’d been to a few when I’d have competitions that’d take me overseas, so while this place definitely has the look of a casino down, and the slot machines do help, the lack of actual dealers makes it feel a lot different than how’d they work in America. Kinda weird how legal it was over there.”

“Sooo, you been to America often?” (Now’s my chance to find out more about his previous lady friend~)

“You know you’ve got a ways to go before you’ll be any good at being subtle. It’s kinda refreshing, with how guys like Kokichi can be, but your thoughts are an open book. Even your hair gives you away.” (Drat. But what does he mean my hair?... It’s the cowlick isn’t it? Stupid hair. I can never get it to behave right.)

His words rang true as Ryoma began to chuckle at the sight of Kaede’s not-so-inner dilemma. The wry smile didn’t leave his face as he slowed his pace at the fork in the road between the Kumasutra and their destination, causing her to match him until both came to a stop as he gave her a knowing look.

“Though before we head in, if a certain pink pianist has anything to do with a black and white bat-winged toy going missing in front of the fountain room, she might want to take a quick look near the entrance of the Love Hotel. Might find a similar prize wandering around in the bushes if she catches my drift.”

“W-what, why would I be picking up weird little Monokuma dolls? It’s not like there aren’t enough toys in the Monomachine, r-right?” (Damn, he’s onto me! But that’s a place I never thought to check before…)

“Right, of course there are. Must have been my imagination it just happened to disappear after you showed up... Or maybe someone else has been collecting them?” Ryoma’s words didn’t match the smug look on his face though, and it didn’t take long for Kaede’s attempt at indifference fell apart.

He paused for her to catch up as he watched her scamper down the right-hand path in search of another doll to join the two on her back and his chuckle broke into a full deep laugh. It didn’t take long for her to find it either, now that she had a proper hint.

AND HE’S SO CUUUTE! Lookit him with his little bellhop hat as he struts around, like he’s got himself a widdle job! … Ahem. I’ll… just put him in my bag with the others for now. And go thank Ryoma for this. Who is my new favorite person. Sorry, Kaito.

Kaede couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off her face as she made her way back, rambling her thank yous and giving half-hearted requests for him to keep from sharing her odd little hobby with the others. But all he could do was chuckle and nod as they made their way to where Kaito and the others were.

Kiyo was already in the exchange area, looking at the different bottles in the bar and upon noticing the two of them indicated everyone else were downstairs in the game room. Ryoma went on ahead to make sure Kaito wasn’t getting into too much trouble but Kaede took the time to look at the prizes she could try to save up for first.

Hmm, well the Crystal Bangle is nice but a lot of these look expensive, I wonder how hard it is to earn these medals. The Ladybug brooch is also pretty cute, Gonta might even like one as a gift sometime. A Travel Journal might be fun to look through and I could also probably find someone who’d like it when I’m done with it, like Kiyo sounds like he’s been to a bunch of places...

Tennis Balls are easy to have fun with when you’re bored but I could probably just borrow some from Ryoma’s lab rather than buy my own set. Don’t need any more Teddy Bears, even though it is pretty cute.

The Factory game could also be a fun little time killer, and the console’s design is nice. I think it’d be good to have something to take care of daily so the Banyan Tree could be a good investment, but what would I call them? Plants gotta have names-

Holy shit look at those Headphones! Oooh, those would be great to use with my lab’s CDs, they even look like they dampen sound if I just need some quiet time. But it’s a bit pricey... The Space Egg is pretty but I’d rather use that money for the headphones. Oh wow, look at that key!

Ugh, that’s even more expensive though! What does it mean “something good might happen if you keep it”? Gah, I wanna know~

“See something in particular that catches your interest?” Kaede jumped a bit as Kiyo’s voice interrupted her thoughts. (Ryoma really wasn’t kidding when he said I was like an open book huh? Maybe I should work on that. At least a certain someone’s bothering to “read” my feelings this time! Still mad at you.)

“Y-yeah, kinda. But the good stuff looks like it will take a lot of playing to save up for. Like those headphones. Or that mysterious “Key of Love”. Is that the only way to investigate the hotel area?”

“I highly suspect so but it doesn’t sound like you can really use if for “investigating”. Even with the key, you can’t unlock the doors before their “opening hours” and Monokuma indicated their use is rather limited in practice.” Kiyo said very matter of factly, despite this being the first Kaede ever heard of this.

“Huh? When did he ever talk about them before? You see him here earlier or something?”

“No, not at all, I already bought one the day before you see. Apparently, when you have one in your possession he sees fit to wake you at some unholy hour of the night to see if you might be interested in participating in an unusual scenario. How it was explained doesn’t particularly appeal to me though, so if you’d like it I’d be more than happy to give it to you.” (What?! But it’s so expensive! Why give it away?)

“A-are you really sure? I mean you must have spent a lot of time to buy it didn’t you? How bad is the “scenario” he offered you exactly?”

Despite her concerns, Kiyo had no issue with taking the decorated key out of his pocket, so Kaede gladly accepted the trinket dropped into her waiting hands. Seeing how confused she still was he explained.

“It’s hardly like any of our currency matters in this place, and it isn’t “bad” as much as it simply doesn’t interest me, intriguing as his offer was. You have no control who here may join you on your “visit” to the hotel, and whoever does will see the keyholder as some sort of “ideal” partner for their preferred sexual or romantic fantasy while the keyholder must act in accordance to this forced roleplay lest the other party feel terribly dejected. I’m not particularly fussy in regards to gender in cases like this so I don’t find the random element too distasteful, but it’s the lack of control the keyholder has that bothers me.”

“I see. And any purely romantic scenes might be kinda awkward the day after right? You said you took this sort of stuff rather seriously before, when you and Ryoma were talking about your past girlfriends.”

While her question was innocent enough Kiyo looked rather panicked by the mention of his previous partner. It took a moment to settle his wide-eyed staring, and lose the bit of hostility in the air, before he calmed down enough to respond. (Jeez, it’s like that time when I just asked him about if people had thought he had a siscon thing before. It’s pretty hard to not get nervous when he has freakouts like this.)

“Right. I… It has been awhile since Her passing but I’m not at all comfortable with that sort of intimacy. Particularly one that is forced for the sake of someone that should the scene play out right won’t keep many memories regarding the night previous. I’m unsure how that is meant to work, drugging perhaps? I wouldn’t put it past Monokuma or his kin.” (Yikes, why is that not the bigger deal breaker for you?!)

“M-maybe it’s more like a weird shared dream? That can happen right?” (And be maybe be less rape-y? Please?!)

“Perhaps, but then how would the partner be selected I wonder. Or the “dream” controlled. A most peculiar means to bear witness to a friend’s hidden desires. I can’t help but wonder what my own scene could contain. Nothing in regards to Her I’m sure, as that ideal would be too intricate to match to my satisfaction; I know Her too well to be fooled by a fake.” (It must still be hard to for him to accept she’s gone if he’s still using present tense for her like this. Though I wonder what mine would be like too.)

“So was she like a childhood friend of yours?”

“I… suppose you could say something like that. I do hope you enjoy whatever beauty your nighttime visit may reveal to you. You would let know if I was your visitor, wouldn’t you? Simply for curiosity’s sake of course.” It was clear he wanted to drop the subject as he teased her, which still got Kaede flustered at the implications.

Luckily for her, she wouldn’t need to respond to this as Kokichi came up the stairs with a childish pout.

“What are you two still doing up here? Come on you’re missing the good stuff! No more of your dilly-dallying, the prizes don’t even matter right now! This is supposed to be a good time together. Isn’t this what you wanted Kaede? Or does that only count for if it’s something Tenko invited you to?” Kokichi pointed at her accusingly as he complained. (Okay, yup he knew. At least he’s not actually mad about it.)

It was fairly obvious any annoyance he was feeling was fake, he even stereotypically crossed his arms as he humphed for emphasis, but his adamance that she come down certainly wasn’t. Seemed rather odd to her considering she should be the more optional person for his gambling crew than Kiyo was, seeing how Kokichi claimed this was meant to be a guy focused event and Kiyo was the one who invited her.

Rather than respond she rolled her eyes with a giggle as he took her by the hand tugging her down the stairs and half-heartedly encouraged Kiyo to follow them so they could see “just how much Kaito sucks at gambling” as he put it. The transition from the warm golds of the Casino’s main hall to the neon-lit blues of the game room down the stairs was odd as ever but she was beginning to see what he meant.

Maki was clearly trying, and failing by the looks of things, to encourage Kaito to stop playing the slots to at least try something less random as he must have been on some sort of losing streak. Regardless of his own luck she still managed to have a fairly large pile of tokens beside her, which was probably part of how Kaito could continue playing at all, while Ryoma was messing around with some of the other games. It looked more like he was investigating than playing though, and Kokichi caught that too.

Upon reaching the bottom he suggested that Kaito and Maki switch machines so the six of them could sort out what games would be played by who had the most “luck” at slots first. Everyone would get to pick a game in the order from who won the most to the least, and he even had a bunch of card games on him to give them a few more options “in case the arcade games here suck ass”. (Which probably means his choice really will be Blackjack just to be cute. Not that I know how to actually play Blackjack.)

Kaede wasn’t entirely sure how this “competition” was really working, as all she knew to do with these was pull the lever and leave everything to chance. If anyone asked her what any of the combinations on these machines meant she wouldn’t be able to tell them, but since she was getting more medals than she put in (and she put in as many as she could each time) she figured she wasn’t doing too badly.

That was more than Kaito could say as he quickly burned through the last allowance Maki gave him putting him dead last. Ryoma proved to be nearly the opposite not long afterward, as his machine started to practically sing as it spat out medals for him at a ridiculous looking rate. Kokichi wasn’t quite that good, but he also did fairly well.

According to his huffy attitude, Kiyo managed to do better though, and Maki gave up at some point to take jabs at Kaito so she was considered second to last while Kaede was considered third last. (Oh well, I never was all that lucky anyway. Not really unlucky either, but still this was fun.)

Kokichi was obviously very impressed by Ryoma’s skills and luck to do as well as he did which just earned some sore losers griping from Kaito much to Kaede’s amusement. She did try to muffle her giggles best she could, but that quickly became an impossible effort. Even Maki couldn’t wipe the sly smile off her face as a thought crossed her mind.

“It’s hardly either of their faults you happen to be the idiot who doesn’t know how to quit even if he does manage to get ahead.”

“Come on Maki Roll, stop calling me an idiot! It hurts my feelings ya know...”

“Then stop acting like one. There’s hardly anything smart about gambling in the first place. There’s a reason it’s illegal and I’m not going to bail you out if you get addicted to it.” Maki chastised him, and with her aura, Kaede could almost believe her false talent of child-caregiver wasn’t wholly misplaced.

“Hey now, you’re talking to Kaito, Luminary of Stars! No way I’d do something as uncool as get hooked, I can stop whenever I want! My instincts were just off today is all.”

“That’s not the best argument for your case my friend, and there’s more this than instincts and luck,” Ryoma said, as he stared at his coin pile at a loss for how he would actually carry any of his winnings.

“Luck’s just a superstition, it doesn’t really matter if you try hard enough!” Kaito exclaimed, though Kiyo only shook his head at that as he began his own ramblings.

“And how exactly do you believe you can “try” hard enough with slots of all things? Surely you must see that the other options here have some level of skill about them yes? And besides that, it’s hardly as much a superstition as you may believe-”

“How is it that after we got stuck in a school without any teachers we still managed to end up with a guy who’d end up giving us all lectures anyway? I didn’t wanna learn today…” Kokichi groaned.

“Kehehe, then why invite me of all people? My inclination towards education is hardly an unknown fact here. But back on topic, it’s odd someone who puts so much faith in the power of personal belief to try to denounce the power of superstitions. If you truly don’t believe in the supposed superstition their effects should hardly affect you, much like many practices in religions like Voodoo.” Kiyo continued after Kokichi’s interruption, though upon the mention of “Voodoo” Kaito looked rather ill again.

“The reason they last in the cultural consciousness as long as they do is but a testament to how many of its people still believe in them, rather than proof of any grains of truth to be found. This can get to the point idioms can exist in common usage for long after the meaning of their words have been lost to the people that use them in favor of the concept they are thought to represent. Humanity often puts a lot of faith in the power of words and the hopes that by using them to influence the hearts or minds of others that they can sway the powers of fate in any manner of ways. Luck is more often based on observation and personal perspectives, as what counts as “lucky” or “unlucky” is incredibly subjective and fickle.”

“Basically. Though confidence can change how something’s going to go too." Ryoma agreed. "You can’t expect to win a match if you go in thinking you’re going to lose. The mind’s a powerful thing, that’s why things like placebos can work at all. That’s why in sports it can get easy to develop personal patterns or pre-game rituals, you get to thinking if it worked well before it will again.”

“But luck isn’t a superstition because it’s only there if you want to see it and superstitions are more complicated than that? Ugh, this stuff is confusing! Let’s just have some fun with the games! It’s Ryoma’s pick, right? So shoot.” Kaede suggested in hopes of finding something to lighten Kaito’s mood.

As Ryoma also saw the problem he offered to play the 1-on-1 mode in Outlaw Run against him, while at Kiyo’s request Kokichi finally got his game of blackjack. Implicitly under the threat that Maki would throttle him if he tried using the joke that started all this again. Maki turned out to be pretty good at it while Kiyo didn’t fare as well. As Kokichi was willing to share the rules to it as they went along Kaede at least got the hang of it before they moved onto the other arcade options.

It was a nice night overall as they fell into idle chattering, seeing how much they could win. Kaede quit after she earned enough for her headphones though, but she stayed with the others after trading for her desired spoils just to enjoy this atmosphere for a little longer.

When Kaito called it a night Ryoma left with him, with some light-hearted bantering with Kokichi as the latter tried to give him a “Death Flag” under the pretense of it being like a Jolly Rodger dissolving into a brief debate about space pirates.

As Maki left some time afterward, apparently having gotten herself the Space Egg Kaede noticed before, Kaede went with her so neither girl would be wandering around on their own at night. (What can I say, some instincts are hard to break. And it’s not like they’re really out of line in this place now are they?)

The walk back was fairly quiet, as Kaede didn’t really know what to say and Maki wasn’t often one for conversation, but it was a pleasant silence between the unlikely pair. A far cry from how tense things could be around the revealed assassin before, which in itself was a hopeful sign of progress.

But not one that was able to last, as Kaede began to hear arguing coming from behind the doors to their dorms. Kaito’s voice first as his was louder and deeper, and given how things have been going the second was likely Angie’s.

Kaede sent a nervous look to Maki, to see if she should go first to make sure things wouldn’t be too hostile to her friend, but Maki paid no heed to it and opened the doors herself. Kaito and Ryoma still hadn’t gone to their rooms yet and Angie, Tenko, and Tsumugi were standing near the opposite wall.

“So what if we were out a bit late? There ain’t any official curfews and we’re more likely to wake someone up by talkin’ here than we would have if you let us be. You’re all overreacting, back off.” Kaito complained.

“Official curfews? Maybe, maybe not, but there will be one for us all starting today." Angie said. "Atua thinks the next murder would most likely happen at night, like Himiko’s did before, and as such the student council will be responsible for making sure everyone else is safe in their rooms when nighttime comes from now on.”

“And let me guess, for you guys to “enforce” it this rule won’t be actually applying to any of you does it? So this would only be keeping half of everyone here inside. Not sure how that would prevent anything.” Ryoma said, being one of the few keeping his volume lower than normal for the sake of those sleeping.

“Of course it would when that half doesn’t include anyone we know has a penchant for violence!” Tenko barked, placing herself between Kaito and Angie.

“Seriously, this again?! And that’s bullshit, you’re the one here most prone to throwing us guys around! Not to mention Kirumi’s outburst. Ryoma and Maki haven’t threatened anyone, not even when she had her video freak her out back then… Well okay, she says scary stuff sometimes, but she doesn’t mean it!”

Kaito was clearly making the effort to keep his voice down, but with his personality, it was hard to keep his enthusiasm from causing his voice to raise. But at least no doors opened to see what the ruckus was.

“I don’t need anyone defending me here, Kaito, so stop it. But I agree with Ryoma. Even if your Atua isn’t a lie with so many people still being allowed out during this danger period the odds haven’t really changed. You’ve just limited the potential murderers and victims to put your own people at the greatest risk.”

“Fine, fine~" Angie sighed. "Then I’ll ask Monophanie if she and Monodam will do the rounds for us with their Exisals tomorrow night, okay? Since she’s sleeping like Atua is right now and I don’t know where he would be.”

“What the fuck?! You’ve got to be kidding, you can’t seriously be trusting these clowns! Basic wilderness survival tip: Never. Trust. A. Bear. With absolutely anything! EVER.” (Exactly! And that reminds me-)

“So, should I ask Monodam to reopen the manhole cover while we’re taking the risk of asking them for favors? I saw what you guys did earlier, this isn’t something you should be deciding for everyone alone.”

“THEY DID WHAT-” Kaito stopped himself mid-yell as he remembered himself and tried again. “You guys did what? That’s going way too far-”

“Come on, let’s all just go to bed okay? It’ll just plain bother everyone if we wake them up like this. Why don’t we talk about things tomorrow after we’ve all had some rest and time to think?” Tsumugi offered to try and settle things down, as she began nervously looking at the rooms around them.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea too. This needs to be discussed with everyone, we won’t accomplish anything here otherwise.” Kaito gave Kaede a worried look but backed down at her request. They didn’t say anything of where the other council members were or when Kokichi and Kiyo would be coming back.

Kaede thinks she heard their footsteps signaling their return a short time later as she was trying to sleep, as neither set sounded as heavy as Gonta or Kibo (despite the latter’s small stature) and both lacked the gentle clicks of Kirumi’s heels so she assumed the other members had already gone to bed.

But that wasn’t her only interruption as she heard a squeaky set of knocking at her door. She ignored the first few sets of rapping, but after the fifth set of three squeaks she gave in and found Monodam on the other side wearing a sleeping cap and a blankie. (What the actual hell, didn’t I see enough of you today?)

“Err… Hello. I’m-Sorry-If-I-Woke-You-Up-But-I-Heard-You-Have-An-Item-You-Could-Use. I-Thought-This-Would-Be-A-More-"Polite”-Way-To-Ask-You-About-It. May-I-Come-In?” (... Is this about the Love Key?)

He took her moving to the side as permission and puttered his way in like a sleepy toddler, giving Kaede’s collection of dolls an odd glance as he took a seat on the couch, patting at the seat beside him. With a sigh she humored him, and he began to explain while swinging his feet from side to side.

“This-Is-My-First-Time-Doing-This, Normally-Father-Didn’t-Let-Us-Help-Since-It’s-Past-Our-Bedtimes. But-Monosuke-Didn’t-Want-To-And-Monophanie’s-In-Angie’s-Room-So-It’s-My-Job-Now. So… Do-You- Have-Any-Ideas-On-How-This-Works? We-Know-You-Didn’t-Buy-It, Only-Kibo-And-Kiyo-Have-Bought- Them-So-Far-And-Only-Kibo-Used-His.” (Woah, what? KIBO??? Not like… Miu or Angie or something?)

“I, Uh… Kiyo gave me the general idea of it sure. If I go I’ll meet up with one of my friends at random and play out some sort of “scene” with them. That’ll… Probably be suggestive. But they won’t remember anything about what happens in there if I go.”

“Correct! Except-It’s-Not-Actually-Random, We-Choose-Who-Goes-With-You. We-Try-To-Make-It-With- Someone-We-Think-Makes-A-Good-“Ship”-With-You. Monophanie-Got-Really-Into-That-Part, She-Has- Charts-For-You-All-And-Everything-Now! We-Think-Father-Went-According-To-Popular-Demand-Too. Do-You-Want-To-Use-It-Tonight?” (“Popular demand”? According to what? Or who? What even is this?!)

“... That depends, can I just tell you who I’d like to meet? Or ask who you have in mind?”

“It’s-Not-Fair-For-You-To-Pick! Even-If-Kibo-Would-Have-Picked-Miu-On-His-Own, Father-Still-Didn’t-Let- Him-Choose. But-According-To-Monophanie’s-Charts… I-Think-Kaito-Had-More-“Ship-Tease”-With-You-Today-Than-Kokichi-Or-Kiyo. But-Which-Of-Those-Three-Is-Still-Up-To-Me.”

NOOOPE. NOT HAPPENING. Either Maki kills me or I’ll wish she did. No matter how nice Kaito is I’m not doing that to her. And heaven forbid I get either of those other two, definitely not interested. I don’t want to think about that stuff with Miu, but if Kibo didn’t forget… That might explain some things. But it’s just too sad to consider right now.

“Yeeeah I think I’ll pass.” (Potential for embarrassment and self-preservation beats curiosity this time.)

“Oh. That’s-A-Shame, We-Don’t-Really-Know-How-This-Works-Yet. Sorry-Shuichi-And-Rantaro-Aren’t- Here, They-Were-Monophanie’s-First-Picks-For-You. And-Kokichi’s-Too, Which-Was-Kinda-Weird-To-Me. Maybe-Things-Will-Be-Different-Tomorrow-Night.” (I… I’ll just forget I heard that. For multiple reasons.)

“Do… Do you even understand what a “love hotel” is ?”

“Of-Course! It-Is-A-Place-Where-Things-Like-Father’s-Videos-Happen. The-Ones-With-The-Delivery-Men- And-Women-Who-Keep-Ordering-Things-Without-A-Means-To-Pay-For-Them. I-Don’t-Understand-Why- They-Keep-Doing-It-Though, And-Monokid-Would-Always-Kick-Me-Out-Before-The-Payment-Issue-Was- Resolved-So-I-Don’t… Miss-Kaede-Why-Are-You-Holding-Your-Face-Like-That? Did-Your-Eyes-Fall-Out?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m not sure what I should have expected here really.”

“Okay. It’s-Fine-If-They-Did-Though, It-Happens-To-The-Best-Of-Us! But-With-That-Question-Answered- I-Have-Another-Thing-To-Ask…” Monodam got a bit nervous so Kaede nodded for him to continue. “Is- It-Okay-For-Me-To-Stay-Here-Tonight? Monosuke-Says-He’ll-Do-The-Announcements-By-Himself-Now- When-He-Kicked-Me-And-Monophanie-Out-And-Angie-Said-It-Was-Okay-For-Her-To-Stay-With-Her. So- I-Thought-I’d-Ask-Is-All...” (Good grief, seriously? Why me? I can’t go kicking a kid out this late, even if he’s a cub. That’d just be fucked up. So is a bunch of childish robotic-teddy-bears kidnapping us, but still.)

“Fine, You can stay. Just for tonight, I’d rather you not get in the habit of this. Hopefully, you can work things out with your family tomorrow or something.”

He wasn’t really listening as he just gave her side an awkward hug. But any moment had was quickly lost.

“Thank-You. I-Also-Hope-This-Will-Just-Be-For-The-Night. Your-Collection-Of-Tiny-Not-Fathers-Is-Rather- Disturbing-To-Me. Shuichi’s-Room-Has-Shelves-For-Those-If-You’d-Like? So-You-Can-Get-Them-Off-The- Bed-So-You-Can-Sleep-Better-”

“But they’re teddy bears, why shouldn’t they be on my bed with me? Who keeps plushies on a shelf?!”

“... Miss-Kaede-You’re-Worrying-Me. Why-Do-You- Like -The-Not-Fathers? How-Do-You-Fit-In-That-Mess- Anyway? Are-You-Okay? Is-This-A-Cry-For-Help-”

“Do you want me to kick you out? And why did I become a “miss” instead of a “bastard” if you’re going to keep being rude about how I keep my own room?”

“No-Miss-Kaede, I-Will-Stop-Questioning-Your-Creepy-Not-Father-Pile. Monophanie-Said-Angie-Told- Her-That-If-We-Want-To-Be-Friends-Calling-You-Bastards-“Bastards”-Is-Bad. Am-I-Doing-Okay?” (NO.)

“Well, uhh, that’s good progress for you? “Miss” is much more respectful. So just… Keep working on it.”

“... Is-It-Complaining-If-I-Ask-To-Use-A-Different-Bed? Like-This-Chair? It-Is-Comfy-And-I-Fit-Well.” It was pretty clear he just wanted to be as far away from her Mini-kumas as possible, further helped by the chair facing away from it. Being a rather bouncy seat for him was just another plus he was enjoying.

“Sure, just give me a minute.” Kaede went through some of the Monomachine prizes she had to find something to help make a better bed. (A rude uninvited guest is no excuse to be a poor hostess, right?)

As she came back and gestured for him to get down so she could make his bed she realized the blank stare he kept giving the toys on her bed was probably his best attempt at a glare. With a chuckle, she laid down a wearable blanket as a little nest and added her Helping Yachi for some company, which he appreciated as he snuggled into place with another set of “thank yous”. It was almost cute, all things considered. (Ignoring how he’s a murderous little brat only here ‘cause no one else can stand him.)

Nothing else came up as she tried to go to sleep again at least. Not even her previously racing thoughts about the current motive’s potential dangers or unpleasant memories of the days previous, as she chose to focus on her unwanted roommate’s odd sounding snoring to help ease her into slumber at long last.

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#New Danganronpa V3 #ndrv3 #ndrv3 spoilers #drv3 #drv3 spoilers #drv3 fanfiction #fanfic #multi chapter #kaede akamatsu #ryoma hoshi #korekiyo shinguji #kokichi ouma #kaito momota #maki harukawa #angie yonaga #tenko chabashira #tsumugi shirogane #monodam #monophanie

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imagine-loki · 7 years

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Met With A Zap, Chapter 18

TITLE: Met With A Zap CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 18 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Darcy and Loki meeting for the first time. They instantly dislike each other and are constantly at one another’s throats in arguments. Darcy even ends up using her taser on him at one point. Others around them get fed up of being stuck in the middle of their pranks and arguments. But eventually, Loki finds himself falling for her sassy mouth. RATING: M

‘You have to take me to Asgard!’ I shouted at Thor.

‘I cannot, Darcy. My father doesn’t like Midgardians there.’ Thor told me.

‘Bullshit. You took Jane there last year. Come on, I need to help Loki. This isn’t his fault. Someone needs to be there for him.’ My voice was getting higher and higher as I argued with him.

‘I shall go and tell everyone the truth of what happened. You are best to stay here.’

‘NO! Thor, I swear to god you better take me with you. If you don’t, I will personally make your life a living hell.’ I argued and crossed my arms over my chest.

I was not giving in with this. I needed to go and try to reason with Odin. I had to see Loki again too. No one else would support him and believe him like I do. I was the only one that had seen the vulnerable side of him. As I highly doubted that he would show Thor or his father that side.

‘Darcy, it is against my father’s rules to take you. I can’t even take Jane back.’ Thor said calmly. But I was not calming down.

‘I don’t give a shit if it’s against his rules or not. Please, Thor. I love Loki. And I know he loves me too. Let me come with you, please. I know you don’t want him to go down a bad road again of destruction or worse. If I’m there, I can help keep him calm. Even if he is in prison. Please.’ I begged him.

Thor put his face into his hand for a moment and he sighed.

‘Fine.’ He finally gave in.

‘YES!’ I said triumphantly as I ran to my room to pack a small bag.

‘You’re actually going to Asgard?’ Clint asked as he leaned against the door frame in my room.

‘Yes. I need to help Loki. He needs me.’ I said as I continued to throw some clothes into a bag.

‘I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad. I wasn’t sure of him when he first arrived. But he has proven useful of late. I know Thor think’s highly of him and you do as well now. I have to admit, you are a good couple. You’re good together. I hope for his sake, and yours, that you can both sort things out with the gods and get him back here.’

I was a little surprised with Clint’s honesty. But it was nice to hear. And I would make sure that I told Odin and Loki too. So he knew that he had support from The Avengers too. Hopefully it would also help if Odin knew.

‘Thanks. It means a lot and I’m sure it will to Loki too.’ I said as I walked over to him and gave him a hug.

‘Well, I’m off to the land of the gods. Wish me luck.’

‘Good luck. Just don’t piss any of them off and you’ll be fine.’ He chuckled.

‘I’ll do my best.’ I shrugged.

I went back to find Thor. Jane was coming with us as well, which I was glad of. I didn’t want to be the only human there. And I knew she would love to see Asgard again, especially Thor’s mother. She spoke highly of her and said she is a lovely woman. I just hoped that she would be on Loki’s side at least.

‘So, is the journey quick or…?’ I asked as we made our way outside, the rest followed us.

‘Very quick.’ Jane nodded.

‘Cool.’

Thor put an arm around both Jane and I. Then once we said goodbye to the others, he looked up to the sky and called on Heimdall. I was about to say something when suddenly there was no ground beneath us and there was a rush of colours. I could hear nothing but a high pitched sound as I felt like my insides were being thrown around everywhere.

Then as quick as it started, we were there. We landed in a huge gold dome thing. There was a really huge guy in the middle with a large sword. He smiled at the three of us and welcomed me to Asgard. He welcomed Jane and Thor back.

At least he was polite. That was a good sign.

I just hoped the other gods would be similar. But I had a feeling that Odin would be a completely different kettle of fish. I was dreading meeting him for the first time, from what I had heard from Loki anyway. Thor saw him differently, though he did still have his stories that made him out to not be so great.

‘Holy shit!’ I said as we stepped onto a huge rainbow bridge. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

It was so colorful and it was shining and humming. It was incredible.

‘I knew you would like this.’ Jane grinned as she grabbed my hand to keep me moving, as I was so engrossed with the bridge below my feet.

The whole city of Asgard was incredible. It was like something from a fantasy land. It was all gold and so grand looking. Especially the palace. I started to feel a little daunted as Thor led us through the place. It was huge. I was going to get lost in it, that was for sure.

And I was starting to doubt whether my plan of coming here was a good one. Would Odin even agree to see me? Would he listen to my argument? Had he already announced a punishment for Loki? What if we were too late? There was so many doubts running through my mind that I never even noticed the beautiful woman approach us.

‘Mother, this is Darcy.’ Thor said and that snapped me from my worries.

That was his mother, Frigga. She was even more beautiful than I had heard.

‘Wow. Uhm, hello.’ I said awkwardly as I tried to curtsy the best I could.

She laughed lightly and put her hand onto my shoulder.

‘Relax, dear. It is nice to meet you. Loki told me all about you.’ She smiled warmly.

‘He did? Really?’ I asked, shocked.

‘Yes. He is very fond of you.’ She smiled yet her eyes looked sad.

‘Is he ok? Where is he?’ I asked.

‘He is ok. Though my husband has sent him to the prison down in the dungeons. He is having a trial tomorrow, to see what his fate may be. Loki explained to us all that happened, but Odin still feels that it is his fault for all the destruction.’ Frigga explained.

‘But it wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t in control of himself. I know he did things in the past, like the destroyer and all that happened with that Jotumhand place. But New York wasn’t his fault.’ I argued.

‘You mean Jotunheim.’ Thor corrected.

‘Yeah, whatever. That was maybe his fault. But he has paid for all that. He was tortured by Thanos. He didn’t know what he was doing. It wasn’t him. I’ve seen him so down and broken, he truly regrets what has happened.’

‘I know. But it is not me that you need to persuade.’ Frigga said as she gave me a small smile and turned to leave us.

‘Take me to Odin.’ I said to Thor.

Thor looked uneasy but nodded.

‘Jane, you wait in my chambers.’ He said as he had a guard lead Jane there.

Then Thor took me to see Odin. Half of me was feeling determined, the other was terrified. He was the King of Asgard after all. But I had to at least try.

Odin was outside on a balcony, it looked over the entire city. It was some view.

When Odin turned around, I was a little shocked. I expected him to be bigger and more like Thor. But he was a little shorter and fatter than I imagined. Maybe it was a bit of a beer belly he had going on. Reminded me of my dad.

‘Who is this?’ Odin asked.

He didn’t even ask how his son was. How rude?

‘This is Darcy. She is a friend of mine and Jane’s… Loki’s lover.’ Thor said cautiously.

Odin’s eye widened as he looked at me.

‘You are the one that has stolen Loki’s cold heart.’ He said as he walked a little closer to me.

‘He does not have a cold heart.’ I blurted out. I don’t know where my confidence came from, but I didn’t like the way he was speaking of Loki.

‘Oh really? He not only sent the destroyer to your town to try and kill his brother, but he also had an army of aliens nearly destroy one of your cities. He wanted to take over the world.’ Odin said loudly to me.

‘He wasn’t in control. He was tortured, badly. He had no recollection of what went on that year. He was not in control of himself or his mind. It was not his fault, and you are going to let him be punished for something that was not his fault? Some father you are!’ I argued.

‘I am not his father. He is adopted.’ Odin said.

‘Then perhaps you should have thought about it more before you took him on as your own. You clearly did not and do not love him as much as Thor. It’s no wonder he went a bit off the rails!’ I hissed at him.

‘Enough of this. I do not have time to argue with a mortal like you. Thor, take her back to Midgard.’

‘I am not going anywhere without Loki.’ I snarled at him and crossed my arms over.

He turned to look at me and he looked at Thor, who just shrugged. Odin looked back at me and shook his head with a sigh.

‘Then you shall be here for a very long time.’ He said as he walked inside.

I turned to Thor and he looked at me with surprise all over his face.

‘He’s an asshole!’ I told him.

‘Careful of your words, Darcy. He is my father, the King of Asgard and protector of all the realms.’ Thor growled at me.

‘I don’t give a shit if he is the god of the entire universe or a fucking monkey’s uncle. He is mean and cruel towards Loki. I see now what Loki meant about all those years where he favored you and not him. No wonder Loki went off the rails. How can you not see that? He doesn’t seem to care about the truth. Loki did wrong in his eyes and even though it wasn’t his fault, Odin doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to care.’ I shouted at Thor.

‘Odin has never been spoken to like that by a Midgardian.’ A voice came from behind me.

I turned around was startled to see Frigga come out onto the balcony to join us. She had heard what I said to Thor as well.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean any disrespect to you. But from what Loki has told me, and from what I just witnessed myself, he really has some parenting issues.’ I said as I crossed my arms over and looked down to the ground.

‘I know you love Loki. It is nice to see that someone finally loves him so much and sticks by him. Even to argue with the Alfather. I get the feeling he would be proud of you.’ Frigga smirked and I smiled at her.

I liked Frigga. She was cool.

‘I just. I hate the thought of Loki being punished for something he had no control over. It’s so not fair.’

‘I know, child. I know. If you stand up in court tomorrow and tell them what you know and how you see Loki, it might help. Loki needs you now. I am so glad that Thor brought you here.’ Frigga said as she pulled me into an embrace.

‘If anyone can help Loki, it is you.’ She told me.

#Loki #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #chapter 18 #fanficshiddles #met with a zap #darcy #meeting #arguments #dislike #fed up #taser #prank #Falling in Love #sassy

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ryukoishida · 7 years

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PARS 2017 | Day 6: Spring Festival | In which Alfreed and Layla become friends at a figure skating competition.

Title: Our Own Rhythmnals Day/Prompt: Day 6 – Spring Festival Author: ryukoishida Summary: Alfreed and Layla met and became friends at Coupe du Printemps after Layla comforted the heartbroken skater, who was at a very bad place in her life at the time. Three years later, they reunite in the same competition as senior skaters, but Layla is distancing herself, and Alfreed wants to know why. [Figure Skating AU] Rating: T Warning: N/A A/N: Title from Luke Lalonde’s “Grand”. Alfreed’s SP music is Eendo’s “Eshgh e Aasemaani”. Layla’s SP music is Ólafur Arnalds’ “33:26”. Links to music are embedded into the text of the fic for your convenience. Holy… okay, so this is my first time writing F/F and I hope I did them justice. If you have no idea who Layla is, there’s a bit of information about her here and here. Also, I took the theme a bit liberally; the name of the competition is Spring Cup, so… spring skating festival it is!

“Alfreed Zottī, with a score of…”

Alfreed doesn’t need to hear the announcement to know that she has one of the lowest scores among the twenty-four junior female skaters present at the Coupe du Printemps.

She squeezes her eyes close, two hands crushing the fabric of her jacket that she hasn’t even bothered to put on after she gets off the ice; her knees still throbbing from the falls as she tries not to let frustrated tears fall. Colours run together and blur into a mirage of shapeless, meaningless images.

A few audience members applaud after the score has been announced, but with the arena only about one-thirds full — not surprising since junior events are never at the center of attention —the half-hearted applause sounds even worst, echoing pathetically and then fading until there’s not a trace of it left as if it was all in her imagination.

She pulls herself up from the bench, and accompanied by her coach, who hasn’t really said anything yet other than a few attempted words of comfort, the red-haired skater stalks down the aisle where staff, other skaters, and coaches are still idling about, and she doesn’t stop until she reaches the safe privacy of the changing room and locks herself inside a washroom stall.

Alfreed knocks her forehead against the metallic door, the cool sensation at least a nice relief for her heated skin after that disaster of a short program, and at the thought of that, her mind of course decides to focus on nothing but the toppled double axel that started the chain of calamity that followed: the triple Loop she stepped out prematurely, the under-rotated jump combo, and the less-than-perfect step sequence when she had lost all momentum and spun out of control.

A teardrop escapes and rolls down her cheek, and before she knows it, she’s sobbing uncontrollably, chest heaving like she can’t catch her breath and fists striking uselessly against the door as tears and snot run down her face in a mess.

She hates herself for being so weak — not just in terms of her physical elements in figure skating, because she’s always believed that she can improve through incessant practice and training, but her emotional state as well, that she had been so easily swayed by a single mistake that it’d led her down into an unending spiral of self-doubt, resulting in such a devastating and disappointing score in an ISU skating competition, even if it was one of the smaller-scale ones.

If only she can be as strong as her brother, she muses, a sense of self-deprecation settles over her like a heavy blanket that’s impossible to shake away. Despite the recent death of their father, Merlane continues to train ceaselessly back at their home rink — perhaps even more so than before, as if he has something to prove.

Alfreed wipes her tear-streaked face furiously — make-up and costume be damned, she can always wash up her face and have the clothes dry-cleaned later — and that’s when she hears the door to the changing room swings open with a squeak, followed by scattered footsteps and snippets of conversations, most likely other skaters who are looking for a refuge for some gossip.

She claps a hand over her mouth and tries to stay as quiet as possible.

“Who do you think will take gold this time?” someone with a nasally arrogant voice asks and adds, “That Kassem girl was really good, but I’ve never even heard of her until this season. Where did she pop out from?”

“I heard she’s just switched coaches; she’s apparently training under Ilterish Turan now.”

Another girl gasps, “No way! The devil incarnate — that Ilterish Turan?”

“Call him what you want, but most of the skaters trained under him ended up sweeping the medals at all the big competitions.”

“Speaking of, how old is she anyway? She looks like she could be in the senior division.”

“I think she’s just freakishly tall for her age,” the first girl replies with an amused snort, and everyone else laughs.

And that is the major reason why Alfreed always finds herself unable to befriend anyone around her own age range in the figure skating field. She isn’t the friendliest person to hang around with in the first place — with her unrefined, loud-mouthed nature that others never expect from a figure skater and a raw, straight-forward kind of honesty that always rubs people the wrong way — but she despises those who talk shit behind people’s backs even more.

Whoever they’re referring to — Alfreed racks her brain trying to remember a skater named Kassem but fails to come up with anything — she wishes she can stomp out of the washroom stall at that very moment and defend the stranger, even if said stranger isn’t around to witness it. That’s not the point, after all, and nobody deserves to be the target of someone’s joke like this, especially when it’s obviously so ill-intended and tasteless.

Her hand is already resting on the lock, ready to kick open the door and reveal her presence, but then someone else is talking again.

‘God, how long are they planning to stay here?’ Alfreed rolls her eyes, but freezes when she hears her own name.

“And from all the things I’ve heard about Alfreed Zottī, I would’ve thought she’d be a more impressive skater, but wow, was her SP a disaster or what? Those jumps and that posture were absolutely awful! How did she even manage to remain at the top twenty?”

“My coach told me that her father just passed away, so maybe we shouldn’t be too hard on her,” another girl mentions in a softer voice, but the first speaker only sniffs indignantly.

“And her father was her coach, if I remember correctly. That would explain why her performances have been so inconsistent lately.”

“All the more reason she shouldn’t slack off, then,” the first girl only says, her tone final, signifying the end of the discussion.

It’s at this point that Alfreed finds herself shuddering in fury, fingers curling into fists and nails digging into the tender skin of her palms as her eyes flare up in a dangerous crimson: it’s fine that they’re talking about all the flaws in her skating, and it’s true that she’d been letting her emotions get the better of her for the past few weeks since her father — a single-parent who brought her and her brother up and trained them since they were young, a harsh and unreasonable man at times, certainly, but everything he said and did was for the benefit of his children — has died from an unfortunate accident. Yet to discredit all the time and effort she’s poured into training in such an offhanded manner when this girl doesn’t even know her is crossing the line, and Alfreed is about to give these clueless girls a piece of her mind.

“Who did you say is slacking off?” a new voice — light and sweet like the first trace of spring — joins in the conversation, and for a few seconds, everyone in the changing room remains uncomfortably quiet, the air stiff and dense and no one dares to make the first move.

“W-what’s it to you?” one of the girls says, a little too loud, like an entrapped prey trying to make itself bigger and more menacing than it truly is.

“Nothing,” the newcomer pauses, and Alfreed presses her ear against the door as if it’d help her hear better, “But maybe you should consider being nicer human beings and stop talking crap behind people’s backs? The way you girls are behaving — it’s rather childish, don’t you think?”

“Just because you’re in first place after the SP doesn’t make you the boss of us, you freak,” one of them, presumably the leader of the trio, snaps.

The newcomer ignores the insult and responds with the kind of nonchalance that Alfreed can only dream to achieve, “Oh? I think the medal speaks otherwise.”

“There’s still the free skate tomorrow,” the girl reminds her, snide sneering obvious in her taunt, “I wouldn’t be so certain about that gold medal if I were you, Kassem. Come on, girls, let’s get out of here.”

The rushed footsteps fade, and the door swings back to place with the familiar squeak. Alfreed feels herself releasing a breath she hasn’t realized she’s been holding.

The hesitant rapping against the door of her stall comes unexpected, and causes Alfreed to jump back a little, a hand on her chest, her heart still beating a little too fast from the conversation she’s been accidentally eavesdropping.

“Hey, you okay in there? You’re not stuck in the toilet, are you? Should I get some help?”

It’s the girl who’s kicked the gossipers out of the changing room — ‘Kassem, wasn’t it?’ Alfreed recalls — her heroine, to be honest, though she’ll never admit such an embarrassing thing to a stranger she’s barely met.

“No! I-I’m fine, thanks.”

Without making it too obvious, she tries to wipe off as much of the dried tear marks and straighten up her costume as best as she can, and with a twist of the lock, she pulls the door open and steps out of the cramped stall, murmuring with a hint of blush on her cheeks that she’s hoping the make-up will at least partly cover, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to, but I heard the whole thing… Thanks again for, well…”

She’s aware that she’s rambling a mile a minute, and the more nervous she feels, the worst her running mouth gets. It’s a bad habit Alfreed still hasn’t been able to get rid of.

“You’re Alfreed Zottī, aren’t you?” the sweet voice rings clear and silvery, and it’s filled with pleasant surprise that makes the other skater blink in confusion.

Alfreed finally has the sense to look up, and she internally scolds herself for not remembering the girl standing before her, a bright grin lighting up the soft green of her eyes and short, dark curls braided on one side of her head while stray locks frame her cheeks: Layla Kassem, a young skater with the strength and elegance of a lioness, skills that most skaters her age can only dream of, and a burning passion for the sport that simmers and explodes in her programs and in the way she moves on the ice.

She was in the group before Alfreed’s, but she must have been too busy worrying about her own performance and warm-up to pay attention to the other skaters at the time.

Later that evening, when she’s re-watching that day’s event on the laptop she’s brought along with her, Alfreed will realize that Layla — the thirteen-year-old girl with the bright, fervent eyes and the enthusiasm and skills to match — is one of the few junior female skaters who was crazy enough to attempt the triple Axel, and somehow managed to land it, even if she had to put a hand on the ice to stop herself from completely falling out of the jump.

“How did you know?” Alfreed asks, eyes widening comically.

“Your beautiful red hair is pretty unforgettable,” Layla replies as she glances admiringly at Alfreed with a small but genuine smile, which only makes the other girl blush even harder than before.

“Oh, you mean I didn’t leave enough of an impression when I flunked that double Axel?” Alfreed chuckles, rubbing the back of her neck, abashed at the attention she’s getting from the other skater.

“Come on, we all had our bad days. Your musical interpretation and transitions were nearly flawless, and I’m not just saying that to make you feel better, I promise,” Layla says.

“You really think so?” Alfreed looks up to meet Layla’s steady gaze with hesitant, cerise irises, teeth worrying at her lower lip.

“Don’t judge too harshly of yourself,” she gives the red-headed skater a sympathetic smile — nothing demeaning, just a sincere gesture to express her concern and an invitation to talk more should Alfreed wishes to do so. The dark-haired skater offers her hand with a tilt of her head, “Layla Kassem. Want to be friends?”

“Absolutely!” she clasps Layla’s hand in hers in an enthusiastic handshake, “I’m Alfreed Zottī, but uh… I guess you already knew that.” Her cheeks are tinted pink again, and Alfreed suspects that this is going to become something of a recurrent theme, but Layla merely laughs, the sound gentle and earnest, and they let go of each other’s hand, fingertips tingling with warmth that seeps deeper than skin and into their bones.

“Want to get out of here and grab a coffee?” Layla asks as she turns around and heads to her locker.

Alfreed follows suit.

“Hot cocoa?” Alfreed wrinkles her nose in disgust at the unpleasant bitter drink and suggests instead.

“Sure! Anything to get away from my coach just for a little while,” Layla whispers conspiringly under her breath.

“The rumors are true then? You’re training under the devil incarnate?”

“Is that the nickname Coach Ilterish goes by around here?” Layla can’t help but laugh, though she definitely wouldn’t have dared if the man were actually present. “Sure, he’s tough and strict with his students, and his ballet classes are brutal; plus, I think he’s secretly a robot or something because I’ve never seen that man cracked a smile, ever.”

Layla pauses for a moment as she puts her sweater on and continues after contemplating her next words, “but he’d taught a lot of top skaters for the past decade and I think I can learn a lot more with him guiding me.”

“That’s amazing — you’re amazing, Layla,” Alfreed has already changed out of her costume and into a set of sweatpants and windbreaker with matching orange and white accents; the clothes are half a size too big on her slight frame, so the sleeves are covering most of her hands, revealing only the tips of her fingers. She pokes her head around the corner of a wall of lockers to check and see if Layla is done yet, and finds that the other girl is mostly dressed except for her shoes.

Similar to herself, Layla’s feet are covered in welts and bruises, and healing wounds protected by bandages. The dark-haired skater quickly pulls on her socks and slips on a pair of sneakers, head ducked to hide the faint blush on her cheeks after Alfreed has complimented her out of the blue.

“H-how do you mean?”

“You must be around the same age as me, right?” She plops down beside the other girl and drops her sports bag by her feet. “Fifteen? Sixteen?”

Layla zips her windbreaker all the way up in a weak attempt to hide the heat on her face. “I’m thirteen, actually.” She curls in on herself as if she wants to make herself appear smaller, and Alfreed has to wonder why, though she does find the gesture rather endearing.

“What? Seriously? Wow, you’re two years younger than me and you’ve already got your future all planned out,” Alfreed sighs in awe as she stretches her arms upward and leans back against her hands braced against the bench.

“I mean… I just know that I’ll always want figure skating to be a big part of my life,” Layla replies sheepishly. “Don’t you?”

“That’d be ideal, yeah, but when you get to a certain age, you just realize that there are some things that, no matter how much you want it, no matter how much time and effort you spend trying to attain it, it’s simply… impossible,” Alfreed turns and looks over at her new friend, cerise eyes bright but it’s in the way she shrugs her shoulders a bit helplessly and the crooked grin on her lips that doesn’t quite touch the entirety of her face that make Layla want to shuffle closer to offer some sort of consolation, a hug, maybe.

She isn’t sure how to go about this — isn’t sure if the gesture is perhaps too forward of her — so she remains unmoving.

“Look at you, talking like a grandma already,” Layla playfully punches the other girl’s arm instead, before her tone turns somber once more, “it won’t always be like this — what happened on the ice today.”

“I know,” Alfreed smiles faintly at her friend’s words, her head lowered as she stares at her hands. The gratitude is unspoken, but Layla understands as soon as the red-haired skater nudges her shoulder gently against hers, and the serious topic is dropped for the moment.

The day after the Coupe du Printemps, under the lush, green foliage of the woods that surround the Patinoire de Kockelscheuer, Alfreed and Layla stand side-by-side as they look at the venue one last time before they have to board the bus and leave. In the end, Alfreed managed to climb back up to ninth place after completing a near-perfect rendition of her free skate, and Layla proudly took silver, losing only a mere 0.5 points to the gold medalist.

“This April’s Worlds’ will be my last competition as a junior skater,” Alfreed tells her as she leans heavily against the trunk of an alder tree. The thick layers of leaves provide some cover from the rain for them, but Alfreed pulls her hood tighter around her head as the breeze begins to pick up. It’s rare to see the usually boisterous girl conveying such a grim expression, but as soon as the thought of her senior debut enters her thoughts, it’s difficult for her mind to think of anything else.

“Are you excited about your senior debut next season?” Layla asks, her back touching the same tree, their arms almost touching, and even though it’s already March, the climate of southern Luxembourg is still bitingly cold, especially when the chilling wind brings with it occasional precipitation that’s more like viscous mist than actual rainfall.

“Not going to lie, but I’m actually really nervous about this whole thing. The ladies’ singles field is pretty deep and there are so many talented skaters from all over the world. I feel overwhelmed just thinking about it,” her voice softens at the next statement, “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“You’ll wait for me, right?” Layla pushes herself off from the trunk with a determined grunt and stands before the other skater. She’s almost a head taller than Alfreed, so when she’s standing this close to her, with one hand braced against the tree a few inches away from Alfreed’s ear, her towering stature seems even more alarming and noticeable.

“W-what?” Alfreed is slightly taken aback by their sudden proximity, but she’s tilting her head to meet Layla’s gaze, albeit a bit bashfully.

“I’ll be keeping in touch, obviously,” and Alfreed really likes how confident and matter-of-fact Layla sounds when she announces this, “but we won’t be competing against each other in the same discipline anymore, so until I debut in the senior division, you have to promise to keep skating your best, and in turn, I’ll promise to train hard over the next two years so that when we’re finally competing in the same field, I’ll be able to stand on the podium with you.”

The pale green of her eyes is blazing, and Layla is focusing on nothing else but the girl standing before her. Her goal has been clear from the moment she’s decided to abandon everything, sacrifice and cut off the frivolous ties that threaten to hold her back, to pursue figure skating as her career: she will go down in history to become one of the most notable female skaters of her era and bring pride to her family and country. Now that she’s befriended Alfreed — an older, more experienced skater who shares some of those insecurities that she has never brought up or admitted to anyone else — Layla wishes nothing more than to have Alfreed be part of this journey, this transformation, her life.

Caught up in her own thoughts, Layla hasn’t even noticed that Alfreed, standing on her tiptoe, is cradling her flushed, wind-chaffed face between her palms, and she says with a teasing grin, “You don’t sound like a thirteen-year-old at all when you talk like that, you know?”

A small, displeased pout begins to form on the younger skater’s chapped lips, but Alfreed interrupts with a pat on Layla’s head as she ruffles her hair, “Hey, I meant that as a compliment. Now stop frowning before you start getting premature wrinkles and sprouting grey hairs.”

Layla’s cheeks are still uncomfortably warm after Alfreed retrieves her hands, and it definitely doesn’t help that a second later, the red-headed skater has taken her hand into hers without a forethought and starts dragging her towards the bus station across from the arena.

“C’mon, we should head back before our coaches decide to ditch us here.”

In the unknowing mist of spring among the green woods in Luxembourg, they make a promise to meet again on the world stage as equals after two years; however, during that period of time, their exchanges over texts and Skype become fewer and farther in between, mostly with Alfreed being the one to initiate conversations, and even then, she’ll only receive the occasional dissatisfying short replies. This awkward, one-sided game of hide-and-seek continues until about a month right before Layla’s supposedly senior debut at the Finlandia Trophy that season, and that’s about the time when Alfreed completely loses track of her friend.

There have been no messages, no calls — no attempt at any kind of contact at all — and Alfreed is worried, her heart becoming heavier as days of silence turn into weeks, except she has no time to worry about a girl who may not be her friend anymore, but she remembers their promise still, intending to keep it in her heart until the end.

Nothing much about the Patinoire de Kockelscheuer has changed over the three years since she last skated in the venue, except the crowd in the stands seem more enthusiastic, and she even spots a few supportive banners bearing her name.

“Alfreed, are you listening to me?” her coach is saying, his head ducked down to scan the content of his clipboard, “remember to watch your posture during the triple axel.”

She hums to show that she’s listening, and then asks out of nowhere with a straight face, “So, have you reconsidered my marriage proposal?”

It all started out as a joke when someone back in her home rink discovered Alfreed’s childhood crush had been none other than the current favourite star choreographer for many prodigious skaters, Narsus Shahidi. Since the older skaters wouldn’t stop teasing her about it even after she’d clarified that that childish infatuation had long been forgotten ever since she grew out of that phase, Alfreed has learned to just swim with the tide with a smile instead of fighting against it.

These days, only Narsus himself is still embarrassed about the entire fanfare, and Alfreed enjoys making the older man fluster every once in a while.

Alfreed tucks a stray lock of her red hair behind the curve of her ear, batting her eyelashes in an overly-exaggerated keenness that, if the man hasn’t already known her for a long time, he’d have assumed she’s making a horrid attempt at flirting with him.

“Excuse me?” he cocks a well-shaped eyebrow at his student’s question, though his concentration is still fully focused on the clipboard in his hand, the other one scrawling down notes that Alfreed is unable to make out because she’s standing on the other side of the rink board. Also, because his handwriting — even if she’s not viewing it upside-down — is terrible.

“Remember what I said about marrying you when I win five golds this season?” she continues with a wide grin, unperturbed by the dark glower her coach sends her.

“No,” he snaps.

“’No’ as in you don’t remember, or ‘no’ as in you don’t think I can win gold here?” Alfreed remains in good humor, her lips, shimmering with pink gloss that matches the sea-blue gauze and silver trimming of her costume, tucked in a self-assured smirk.

“’No’ as in I refuse to answer this obviously loaded question.”

“You’ll give the poor man an aneurism, Alfreed,” a tall woman with an elegant posture even when she’s just standing, ink-black hair that cascades down her back, and exquisite jade-green eyes that can either convey heartbreak or downright murder appears beside the blond-haired coach who’s still fuming over Alfreed’s teasing.

“Farangis!” Alfreed chirps excitedly, “What are you doing here? Didn’t you say you were going to stay behind and train for Worlds’?”

“I thought it’d be fun to come cheer you on,” Farangis replies with a soft smile.

“Aghriras is stalking you again, isn’t he?” Narsus turns to her with a knowing glance. “Have you considered getting a restraining order? I heard those things are rather effective against stubborn and shameless men who just don’t know when to give up.”

“That seems a bit extreme, don’t you think?” Farangis sounds remarkably calm, as if having her old pair skating partner following her on every social media platform she’s on and obsessively trying to get back in touch with her despite Farangis’ outright refusal to have any more connection to the man who gave up on their partnership after a few consecutive disappointing results is nothing to be afraid of. It amazes Alfreed how the skater, who’s only three years older than her, can deal with all this with such a mature and composed demeanor.

In most people’s opinion — fellow professional figure skaters and audiences alike — Farangis Avesta is better off skating in the singles discipline anyway; her techniques have always been at the top in the pair skating field and her performances and public persona are popular with the judges and fans. To be rid of the weight of a troublesome partner is a blessing, and Farangis bursts into the ladies’ singles scene burning brighter and more dazzling than ever before.

“You’re too nice,” Alfreed pipes up as she balances her chin on her palm.

“And you should be out there doing your warm-up before time runs out,” Narsus scolds.

“Alright already,” Alfreed makes a face and skates away to join the other skaters in her flight.

“How’s she doing?” Farangis asks as she watches the red-haired skater speeds past the other young women in the rink, eyes focusing straight ahead and nothing else.

“Everything should be fine if she can concentrate and not let any unnecessary things distract her from her goal,” Narsus answers, a finger tapping against his bottom lip as he finally drops the clipboard down on one of the available chairs nearby.

“I saw her — the girl that Alfreed mentioned before,” Farangis comments, “she’s in the flight after hers, and it looks like Ilterish is keeping quite a tight leash on his prized skater.”

“Yeah? I wish you wouldn’t bring it up to her because Layla Kassem is trouble and is considered to be one of the aforementioned unnecessary things that Alfreed doesn’t need to bother herself with right now,” Narsus replies coolly.

“She probably already knows,” Farangis speaks again after someone announces the end of the warm-up segment, and they move aside to allow the stunningly-dressed skaters go by, a few who recognize Farangis are waving at her and the woman nods her greeting with a pleasant, polite smile. “She must have seen the entries list, at least. And her skating feels different during the last few days, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, too.”

Narsus remains silent but his pursed lips and the unease in those usually confident, violet eyes tell Farangis all she needs to know.

“Wish Alfreed good luck for me,” Farangis turns around, “I’ll be watching from the audience stands.”

Like so many times before, like the moment before that disastrous short program that had led to the most unlikely encounter three years prior, Alfreed is once again standing in the center of the rink where the Coupe du Printemps takes place, her body poised gracefully in her starting position as all eyes dwell on her.

Her mind is blank except for the one name that refuses to be wiped off, and that’s all right because she is the one person Alfreed wants to skate for.

She’s known since the entries list was published on the event’s official website about a month ago; she’s known that Layla will be here, and she will see her at some point over the course of the competition, surely. But somehow, over the past two days during the sanctioned practice times or even at the drawing for the starting order last evening, she couldn’t find a chance to approach her or even wander close enough to garner her attention.

Ilterish is always with her, it appears, as if he’s her personal bodyguard; Alfreed has to admit he’s doing a damn fine job at keeping everyone else at bay from bothering his protégé.

If she can’t talk to her friend, then the only way Alfreed can get through to her is to skate her heart out, lay it bare for all to witness.

Will Layla be watching?

She doesn’t have time to ponder about that for too long because the staccato notes of the folksy accordion to her short program music have started playing; she unfolds from her frozen pose, the semi-transparent gauze of her sleeves flowing in the air like blue wings spreading out in the wind, and she transforms into a lover lamenting for a kind of heavenly love she’ll never find.

The female singer’s smoky vocals melt seamlessly into the jazzy tang of the melody, and Alfreed lets the harmony of the song and the movements of her body fuse together as one. After the triple flip, which she lands solidly to the applause and cheering from the audience, the music — suffused with playful guitar chords and trombone slides — picks up the pace, and she prepares for the spread-eagle entry, leading to an impressive double axel-triple toe loop jump combination with incredible height and speed.

The colours blur into ribbons and the music drowns out everything else; Alfreed can feel her blood singing, her body soaring in a delirious rush of desperate passion as she seeks the answer she longs for, chases after the shadow of her friend who, like a spirit, continues to slip and escape through her fingers every time she gets too near.

Slightly out of breath, she topples precariously doing the triple axel in the second half of the program, so deductions are unavoidable in that account, and Alfreed can already imagine Narsus’ unimpressed ‘what were you thinking?’ scowl. She vaguely wonders if Layla has perfected the jump that she’d dared to try three years ago.

The melody is becoming light and sparse once more, and she concludes with a beautiful layback spin that shows off the elegant arch of her back as her skirt flares out in waves from the momentum, skating to a stop in her final pose when the tinkling notes float and dissipate into the roaring ovation from the crowds.

Everything aches: muscles, feet, bones, the raw, clawed out emptiness in her heart, and she’ll have to do it again tomorrow at the free skate event. She pushes the stray locks of her hair back and away from sticking onto her sweaty cheeks as she joins Narsus at the kiss and cry area and awaits her score.

“I would yell at you for that terrible posture during the triple axel…” Narsus murmurs as he smiles brilliantly for the camera pointing at him.

“I know you would,” Alfreed interrupts without a hitch, her eyes trained on the scoreboard.

“But I’m not going to,” he concludes, a little smug.

“Oh? This is new,” Alfreed looks over at him, and then she immediately narrows her eyes with suspicion, “Wait, am I in a different kind of trouble?”

Narsus’ answer is halted by the announcement of Alfreed’s score: her season’s best SP score yet, which lands her in the first place with six more skaters to go.

“You knew she’s here — your… friend,” Narsus only hesitates a little at the end of his statement.

Alfreed has only told him in the briefest manner about her friendship with Layla when they first met, but what she’d said to him three years ago — right after World Championships had ended, and Alfreed had come running to him asking for the choreographer, who has been a decorated figure skater himself at the height of his achievement but has never expressed any desire to take in students, to become her coach — it was enough to convince Narsus.

The resolve in her eyes and the determined set of her mouth when she announced that she wanted to become better so that she could skate as her best friend’s equal, sharing the joy and victory together on the world stage, revealed to Narsus the potential of a young, fervent skater who so desperately wanted to improve her artistry and techniques for the sake of friendship.

He’ll never admit this, but at the time, Narsus thought Alfreed really reminded him of his younger self: awfully reckless and full of the kind of ideals and tenacity to the sport and art of figure skating. It’s a part of him that gradually fizzles out as he grows older and becomes too docile, too complacent.

Alfreed nods without a word as they walk around the side of the ice rink, out through the passageway, and into the hallway beneath the audience stands. She plops down on one of the benches by the wall and begins to unlace her skates with quick, practiced fingers.

“What will you do?” Narsus sits down beside her and gingerly places a pair of sneakers by her skates, which she promptly slips on along with her team jacket.

She pulls herself to her feet and zips her jacket all the way up, the movement echoing a hint of ferocious flare.

“Alfreed?” Narsus picks up his students’ skates and stands up tentatively.

“I’m going to talk to Layla,” she simply says, her tone low and brittle. “I need to know what happened.”

“How? Ilterish follows her like a guard dog.”

They make for the section of the stands reserved for competitors and staff.

“He can’t possibly follow her everywhere she goes,” she snorts insolently, climbing up the stairs two at a time. Layla is the first to start in her group and she wants to find a good seat.

Glancing over at the red-haired skater and realizing that there’s nothing he can do to dissuade her from doing whatever she’s planning in her head, Narsus can only sigh in defeat.

Her left leg jiggles up and down impatiently as her thumb scrolls on her phone while they’re waiting for the ice to be resurfaced for the last six skaters; she can’t understand a word she’s seeing on the screen, but it doesn’t matter because she isn’t even sure what she’s reading in the first place.

When the six skaters finally step out onto the ice for their warm-up, Alfreed leans her entire torso over the railing and narrows her eyes in search of the familiar figure of her friend. The dark hair and towering frame is easy to spot amongst the slighter-built skaters: donned in an asymmetrical dress with one long sleeve covering her right arm and showing bare, olive-toned skin of her left, the fabric a subdued gradient of black from her neckline to bright red along the edge of her skirt with delicate silver jewels sewn into an intricate pattern, and short hair combed back with a single purple pansy flower hairpin, Layla Kassem stands out with her presence.

It’s difficult to tell from this distance, but Alfreed is sure that Layla has grown quite a lot taller over the years they haven’t seen each other; her limbs develop elegant, powerful lines of lean muscles, and she exudes cool confidence as she perfectly does a triple axel with the ease and grace of a veteran skater.

At last, the announcer is introducing the first skater, and Layla glides one lap on the ice before she locks into her starting position at the left end of the rink.

Alfreed’s attention is solely focused on the lone figure on the ice — the excitement of finally seeing Layla perform live for the first time in three years overwhelms the dawning fear of having to confront her after the event. For now, she just wants to watch her friend skate.

And skate she did: beautifully, perfectly, not a chink in her armour strengthened by the impeccable execution of all the required technical elements.

The program begins with the isolated, winding melody of a violin, the swift contrast from absolute low to rough high notes bringing Layla to stretch out into a graceful layback Ina Bauer, back arched and gliding sideways, that leads into a double axel-double toe-double loop combination.

One element after another, Layla executes each to the praise of the audience, yet it makes no difference for her.

Despite the melancholic nature of the song that seems to paint a character walking alone in the dark — restless and with nowhere to go, no place to belong — nothing on Layla’s facial expressions convey that sentiment. Her eyes, glazed green and too fierce for the piece she’s performing, only depicts hungry, roaring flames; to the skater, there is only one purpose to this program, and that is to flawlessly complete the list of challenging technical elements that will garner her the most amount of points.

With her fingers curled around the railing and her knuckles turning white, Alfreed feels a sense of unease toiling inside her chest. Even though Layla is skating without any mistakes and every movement, every tilt of her head, spread of her arms, is calculated and exact — the Kerrigan spiral that transitions into a triple loop, the various spins — her performance can only be described as cold, distant, and unfeeling.

It’s nothing like the kind of skating Alfreed remembered from when they first met.

As the song progresses, the violin melody becomes more urgent, the notes slashing through the air like caged snarls, the rhythm chaotic and vicious — violent, almost — and her step sequence and final combination spin completely mirror that.

To nobody’s surprise, Layla receives a very high score, a good eight points ahead of the person currently in second place. The other five skaters who perform after Layla don’t even come close to her standards in terms of technical skills, but Alfreed hasn’t remained in her seat long enough to find out until much later because as soon as she observes Layla leaving the kiss and cry area with her coach, she shoots off for the direction of the changing room downstairs.

With her arms crossed in front of her chest and one leg resting before the other while leaning against the stark white wall of the female changing room, Alfreed ignores the confused stares that some of the passerby staff have sent her way and replies to the brief greetings from her fellow competitors when they choose to acknowledge her on their way in or out of the room.

It’s nearly deserted when Alfreed finally spots a tall figure with a head of dark, messy curls. She waits until the last person in the room leaves, and then steadily makes her way to where Layla is sitting on a bench facing the row of lockers. She sits down beside her, with a few inches of space between them; Alfreed can’t find the strength in her to reduce that distance yet, not until she gets the answers she’s wanted for the past year.

“What the hell was that out there?” Alfreed decides to break the silence with the first question that comes to her mind. She could’ve phrased it better, but she thinks they’re beyond polite words and courteous pretense now.

“What do you mean?” Her voice is just as sweet as Alfreed remembers it, yet something is amiss in that tone — that touch of blooming spring that reminds Alfreed of revival, a new beginning, a hopeful future.

“That style of skating — that was not you at all!” She tries to control the contempt and disappointment in her voice, but it’s leaking into her words like sticky tar, a dark, disgusting coat that clings to every word that comes out of her mouth.

“And how would you know what skating style best defines me?” Layla wraps her jacket tighter around herself as she looks away.

“Maybe if you haven’t suddenly disappeared off of the face of the earth and replied to my messages once in a while, I would’ve known the answer to that and we wouldn’t even be having this ridiculous conversation right now,” Alfreed’s voice simmers between exasperation and helplessness, and it’s tearing her apart.

“Maybe there are circumstances that you don’t understand,” Layla mutters.

“Damn it,” she kicks the door of the closest locker and its slam echoes like a clap of thunder in the room, and then she whirls around to face the other girl, “then make me understand, Layla.”

“I can’t!” She sounds resolute, and she sharply turns to the red-haired skater with an agonized expression, lips pursed and eyes despondent. “I need to do everything I can to achieve my goals, and that includes… this.”

“This?” Alfreed repeats, uncomprehending.

“You,” she tries to put her sentiment into words, but with the way Alfreed is staring at her, confused and pained, it’s becoming difficult to think clearly.

“Me?” Alfreed is feeling foolish for repeating again, but there are issues that need to be clarified, and this one is currently on the top of the list.

“I had to leave you behind,” she says quietly, her fingers fiddling agitatedly in her lap.

“By ignoring me without a single, logical explanation? The Layla I thought I knew would have at least tried to talk it out first.”

“Coach Ilterish was right…” she murmurs. Everything becomes so much more complicated when Alfreed Zottī is involved, Layla has thought. Coach Ilterish was able to foresee it and was probably just being logical back then, suggesting that the earlier she cut ties with unnecessary baggage that might ruin her future, the faster and smoother her path to the top of the figure skating world would be.

“Ilterish…?” Alfreed spits out the name in distaste, “Since when did you start caring about what he said?”

“Since I started winning at competitions,” Layla’s reply has no wavering hesitation, just absolute belief, “since I started truly understanding his philosophy.”

“Oh yeah, the philosophy of treating your friends like shit in order to win,” Alfreed sneers, and even as the words slide out of her mouth, viscous and full of venom, some part of her hopes that it will infuriate Layla enough to make her stay just a bit longer.

“You can think whatever you want of me, but I’m done with this conversation,” Layla pulls herself up from the bench and begins to turn away.

“Whatever happened to keeping in touch, huh?” Alfreed has wrapped her fingers tightly around the taller girl’s bicep in a flash to stop her from moving further, and she’s pleading now, wide-eyed and crestfallen. “Whatever happened to waiting for you so we can compete in the same field? Whatever happened to standing on the podium together?”

“We aren’t kids anymore, Alfreed,” she makes no movement to retrieve her arm from the other girl’s grasp, her stance fixed as an ice sculpture, her voice just as stiff and cold, “when all of us compete in the same discipline, there can only be one person standing at the top of the podium, and I will be the one with the gold medal around my neck.”

The trace of warmth in her pale green eyes is lost to the winter frost, and Alfreed feels her friend slipping away from the tip of her fingers again as her arm drops to her side listlessly.

‘Whatever happened to us?’ Alfreed wants to ask Layla, but she’s alone in the room now, and there’s nowhere else for her to go but back to the world constructed of ice.

A/N: Err I did mention this piece will not have a happy ending, didn’t I? [sweats nervously]

Some notes about this AU here.

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #pars2017 #alfreed/layla #alfreed #layla #bowie's crappy writing

3 notes · View notes

sulietsexual · 7 years

Note

Angel the Series - Reunion and Origin? And SPN - Houses of the Holy and Fresh Blood?

Nonnie, I gotta be honest with you, Houses of the Holy andFresh Blood are episodes I tend to skip when re-watching, as I find bothepisodes a bit dull. Honestly, I can barely even remember what happens ineither, only that the first has some preacher who believes he’s an angel andthe latter has Gordon turned into a vampire (which was a nice bit of poeticjustice). But I don’t really have a strong opinion on either. However, I’vewritten you some nice, long meta on both AtS episodes, so hopefully that makesup for my lack of opinion on the SPN eps.

Reunion

Shortopinion: Angel’s been a baaaad boy.

Longopinion: Who doesn’t love Reunion? It’s such agreat episode, narratively and thematically, bringing the Darla storyline tothe boiling point and showcasing just how far W&H have pushed Angel. Thisepisode marks Angel’s start of darkness and underlines what I’ve always stated– that Angel himself has capacity for great and deep darkness and that is why Angelus is so sadistic,because Angelus is Angel without the control of a soul.

The opening scene of this episode has Angel near breakingpoint, babbling and incoherent, horrified at the events he had just been forcedto witness and desperate to save Darla. I’ve written previously about theeffect Darla’s return has on Angel, the emotional marathon he goes throughbecause of it, and the way human Darla completely messes with his state ofmind. Which, of course, was always the point. W&H always planned to have Darla turned into a vampire, not only tofurther torment Angel but to push him into going Dark Side. The original planwas for him to turn her, but whenthat fell through, they had her turned infront of him (make no mistake, that was deliberate, an extra touch oftorture, forcing Angel to watch Drusilla drain Darla while he could do nothingto stop it). And it works, Angel almost loses his mind in the aftermath, sotormented by failing Darla that he is determined to kill her before she canrise again as a monster.

However, he’s tripped up by the fact that he no longer sees Darla as a monster. His experienceswith her as a human have left him unable to distinguish between Darla with asoul and Darla as a vampire, which is why he hesitates when he has the chanceto stake her. Things are no longer black and white, Darla has become someonereal to him, someone whom he cares about. The torture she and W&H put himthrough has left him confused and torn between his feelings for her and theknowledge that she is too dangerous to be allowed to live as a vampire.

Darla, meanwhile, is in a state of utter confusion andhelplessness at first, having risen for a second time and with the memory ofbeing human so new and fresh. Due to the fact that as a human she had actuallyaccepted her death and let go of her desire to be turned, she is at first furious at finding herself a vampireonce more, taking her frustration and rage out on Drusilla, who is now hersire. Her tormented cry of “Why?!”really resonates, showcasing just how conflicted she is regarding her siring.Drusilla’s tearful reply of “It’s what you wanted” seems to bring Darla back toearth, and the demon’s nature takes over, allowing her to feed off a nearbyhuman and prompting Drusilla’s delighted “You’re all new again!”. However, asthe next episode shows, the confliction Darla feels due to being so recentlyhuman has not entirely been resolved and is a driving factor in a lot of heractions for the remainder of the season.

The climax of this episode has Angel crossing a line which hethen has a hard time coming back from, but it’s hard to blame Angel for his actions,as they are a direct result of the torment W&H have put him through in thepreceding months. I actually think that in-Universe Angel is treated tooharshly regarding his actions over the latter half of the season, as W&Hhave basically been torturing him through Darla for the entire first half ofthe season, and he pretty much reaches his breaking point. Closing the lawyersin with Darla and Drusilla was a result of that torture, and pretty much gavethe W&H team exactly what they deserved.

Now, firing Wes, Gunn and Cordy was a pretty shitty move but,once again, there is a deeper reason going on. I’ve spoken about this in anearlier meta. Angel knows that he needs to kill Darla and normally this wouldnot be an issues (we see him kill her with ease in BtVS Season 1, when Buffy’slife was in danger). However, Darla is no longer just a soulless monster. He has known her as human now. He hascared for her, loved her, offered to die for her. He has connected with her ona level he never expected to and so, in order to kill her, he needs to becomedark. He needs to cut himself off from his own emotions, become cold andcalculated and access the Angelus part of his personality. And he cannot do that while Cordy, Wes and Gunnare around because they are his link to humanity. They are who keep him feelinghuman, able to suppress and control Angelus, able to function in the humanworld and feel and experience emotions such as love, compassion and empathy. Heneeded to get rid of them to become dark enough, to become cut off enough tonot only kill Darla but take down Wolfram & Hart. And while that sucks for Cordy, Wes and Gunn, it was anecessary step Angel needed to take.

All up, this is an amazing episode, opening up new threadswhile tying together old ones. The return of Vamp!Darla is awesome and watchingher and Drusilla get up to all sorts of evil hi-jinks is always fun, if a littlemacabre. Angel gets some great characterisation and the start of a new, albeitdarker path. It’s easy to see why this episode makes IMDB Top 10 highest ratedepisodes of AtS.

Origin

Shortopinion: Cries forever because Connor and Angel.

Longopinion: This episode – like all Connor/Angelepisodes – kills me, but this one especially so because we actually get to seeConnor and Angel interact without animosity or hatred or resentment and Connor doesn’t remember who Angel is.Excuse me, I have to go cry for twenty years, because this relationship turnsme into a blubbering mess every time I talk about it. But seriously, this is agreat episode, which once again showcases what a victim of his circumstancesConnor was and how he would haveturned out fine, had Holtz not stolen him as an infant.

Angel’s interactions with Connor in this episode are funny,sweet and absolutely heartbreaking, as he struggles to maintain a neutral frontwith Connor and not let anything suspicious slip. The helplessness on his facewhen he first sees Connor at Wolfram & Hart is heartbreaking, as he looks so shaken and devastated. Angel neverexpected to see his son again, so when Connor shows up on his doorstep, hisfirst impulse is to turn him away, to make sure that Connor stays as far awayfrom his world as possible. He gave up Connor to protect him and has everyintention of making sure that sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.

Of course there are bigger forces at play here, and Angel isforced to allow Connor back into his world, first saving him from the demonswho attacked him and his family and then bringing him back to W&H to train.Angel tries his best not to get emotionally involved but as this is his son, he inevitably ends up gettingcaught up in interacting with Connor. It’s so cute to watch the two actuallytalk freely and without animosity and it’s especiallyendearing how impressive Connor finds Angel, admiring his fighting movesand eagerly asking him what it’s like to be a vampire. Angel, in turn, justlights up around his son, obviously thrilled at spending time with him, butheartbreakingly reminded time and again that Connor is no longer his, such aswhen he first saves Connor’s family from Veil’s demons and Connorenthusiastically remarks on Angel’s moves, before rushing to his father,exclaiming “Dad!”. The look of sorrow on Angel’s face is almost too much totake.

Through this episode and Connor’s well-adjusted persona, theaudience gets to see a different Connor, a Connor without trauma, without pain,a Connor who was never taken through a portal, who didn’t hold his dying fatherin his arms, who wasn’t manipulated by Holtz or Faux!Cordy, who was never rapedor tormented, who didn’t live the life which was originally his. And he is agreat kid. He’s smart and funny and has a good head on his shoulders. He’s alsofair and stands up for his family. He tells Angel that he’s not a bully andwants a fair fight, but is also smart enough to know that he needs help. Hisinitial interactions with Sahjhan are hilarious,especially his polite “There’s some weapons here, if you want” line, completewith considerate gesture. Of course, once the memory cube gets broken we havethat glorious shot of the old Connor,rising to meet his opponent, blood on his face and the classic Connor sneer onhis face.

Of course I can’t talk about the cube being broken withouttaking time out from my Angel/Connor heartbreak to rage about Wes and his ridiculously selfish and self-indulgentattitude in regards to Fred’s death. This episode underlines, once again, howobsessive, selfish and gross Wesley is when it comes to his feelings for Fred,even after her death. He doesn’t give a shitabout Angel’s warnings, doesn’t even contemplate that Angel might have hadreasons for signing a contract with W&H, no, he just assumes the worst of aman (vampire) whom he has trusted and respected for years and decides that Angeltraded Fred’s life for his son’s (like, honestly, why the fuck would he assume that?!) and smashes the cube with noregards to what it will do to anyone, only caring about his own grief and pain.

You know, I don’t think there’s a character out there who Ilove and hate in equal measure as much as Wesley. Give me Season 1 Wes, awkwardand mildly sexist but who tries and fumbles and falls and is always striving tobe his best self, or Season 2 Wes, slowly settling into his role within AngelInvestigations, growing in confidence, able to take the reins when he, Gunn andCordy break away from Angel. But don’t give me Seasons 4 or 5 Wes, arrogant andmisogynistic, selfish in his grief, screwing everyone over because he can,treating women like shit and believing he’s right in doing so. God I hate laterseasons Wes. But I digress.

The real emotional crux of this episode comes in the finalfew minutes, with Connor visiting Angel to say goodbye. Those final two lines “Yougotta do what you can to protect your family. I learned that from my father” absolutely kill me, because theytell the audience that not only has Connor regained his memories, he understands why Angel chose to remove themin the first place. That final line is so powerful and it gives Angel hope,hope that one day he might be able to know his son, to be a part of his life. Itwas the most beautiful and fitting way to end the episode, finishing on abittersweet note and giving hope to Angel and the audience.

Now excuse me, I have to go cry forever *ugly sobbing because Angel loves his son more than anything in theworld*

#answered #Anonymous #angel the series #ats meta #angel #meta #anti wesley

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jammixes-blog · 6 years

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Secrets

The best secrets are never shared with anyone. There are very few real secrets, in this world.

Transparency is essential for progress.

While it is hard to bury emotions, thoughts can be hidden easily.

Often, it takes time for the mind to process all the emotions that manifest themselves, from the soul.

A secret can only be safe when forgotten. A lot of friends called me a “vault”, for that, I put effort to forget secrets a minute after I hear them.

No legitimate knowledge should be a secret. And, those who make a secret of a set of knowledge are most certainly charlatans. That’s especially true for “esoteric” knowledge, learning the Taro(t), to read auras, or even meditation, for example, should always be free of charge.

By the end of The Day, there are no True religions. There is only every human being, facing every other atom in the Universe, what I call “God”. Every religion tries to get each one of us further, but none contains the whole Universe, they all complement each other. So, all religions in the world, put together, are a meagre attempt to reach, understand, and feel everything else. In that respect, Hinduism is probably the most complete one, since it consciously encompasses and tolerate all the others. A deity, in Hinduism, is a form of potent energy, and there are no limitations to the number or the kind of deities, it’s a huge space for the soul to move around.

Knight Templars were not devil worshippers. They were made pariahs because they had contact with the Muslim faith and came to respect and learn from the Muslim world, after meeting their local equivalent. It created the mistrust of the Pope and the French King. This is what they could not defend in court. The rest, the so-called “Baphomet” worship, was an alchemical symbol accepted by Western Crafts, at the time, and was not the problem. They were suspected to have joined the “Devil”, converting to the Muslim faith, in secret, and sabotaging Christians from keeping the Holy Land. The Knight Templars, unconsciously, brought Enlightenment to the West, through Geometry, the number 0, Symbology, and Medicine. They were although more advanced in “alchemy”, and most sciences. Like creating the modern banking system, they had no plan for any of those. At the base, they were just the burnt-heads of every impoverished aristocratic family, wanting to be granted a place in heaven. Those burnt-heads were turned mystics and put through a very rigid and codified lifestyle. Even going down the steps, in the fortress was done 5 by 5, one level at a time. As for missions, Templars were paired, in a way where your Brother was more important than yourself, his life more precious than yours, and a sense of duty, whereby, failing, in a mission, was a shame you could not take. As for being taken prisoner, and tortured, never. You fought till death. This why, Templars who made it back home, made no sense, to the rest of the population, and ended up just drinking, and being incoherent, to the rest of the population. This is why, a lot of Templars just retired in the Middle-East, taking a local wife and becoming part of the social fabric. They still have descendants, all over the region, and probably tried to remain active, although undercover, like their Scottish counterparts. Is it important? No. The lesson is just about secrecy. At the time, with the atmosphere of persecution, they didn’t feel safe making their knowledge public. Eventually, they did. As for the Holy Grail, personally, I doubt they discovered much. They did, however, got more evidence, than anyone else of Essene traces, and “Essene sects” very close to early Christianity. They probably found or bought authentic scrolls or engravings that proved that, around Jesus’ time, there was a new form of Judas-ism, closer to Pythagorean beliefs and sciences. My 1 rupee, from 1974, maybe that’s why Jesus felt betrayed by “Judas”, and Christianity was born, out of Judaism, as a separate set of beliefs. The Muslim religion recognizes both Judaism and Christianity, mixing the Kahb’Allah with Pythagorean Ratios and Symbology. Of all three religions, the Koran is the most beautifully written, as well as being the most understandable. I don’t like the Bible, it’s been re-written too many times, to be correct and truly understood, without priests subjectively interpreting it. There should be no intermediary between a human being and God. as for Judaism, the Zohar is a mathematical beauty, I don’t have the pretension of being acquainted with it, I just have some notions of the Kahb’Allah. It’s probable that Jews new the name of Allah, as well as Yahve. After all, they come from the Middle-East. This is why it’s sad that Jews and Muslims don’t get along, in the Middle-East, they are both Arabs and Middle-Eastern. The modern compromise would be for Israel to be Generous towards Palestine, establish priveledged relationships, makes peace with Iran, and stop its compulsary military service. As for Saudi Arabia, it should stop being the lap dog of the USA, in its region. I lived there, there are entire cities of GIs, the whole country is a US army base, I don’t blame Iran for being cautious or paranoid. The Muslim religion and the whole world deserve and should have a New Golden Age, driven by Compassion, Tolerance, and Peace...for ALL. That’s why China and India look like a Papa and a Mamma. Chinese wisdom says: “whatever is, we’ll do with it...”, and Hinduism says: “we’ll create more space for their Gods, saints, and Messiahs...”. I still maintain, that if those two countries alone wanted, they could take over the world, together, anytime. But they don’t. Instead, they are making their people evolve, economically, intellectually, and spiritually. China is the most developed Nation in the world, technologically, and India is not far behind. Silicon Valley lives on its reputation, but they both have much bigger and better. as for India, it has rocked its own social system, after thousands of years, systematically erradicating the cast system and reforming rape laws as well as traditional marriages with minors. Both Nations deserve Kudos for that. Not only for the accomplishments, but, also, for doing it so humbly, with dignity, and hard work. USA: learn your lesson, one decade of hard work is not enough...

My vote for Nation Of The Year 2017: Both China and India

My vote for Worst Nation Of The Year 2017: USA, twice

My vote for Potential Nation Of The Year 2018: the EU, if it takes the UK back, Northern Europe (Denmark-Sweden-Iceland-Finland-Norway), Holland, and Russia

My vote for Leaders Of The Year 2017: Mr Xi, Mr Putin, Mr Macron, ANGELa, and Sir JUSTin.

My vote for Most Courageous Nation Of The Year 2017: the UK

My vote for Nation With The Most Potential Of The Year 2017: Canada.

My vote for Most Suffering Nation Of The Year 2017: Syria, Lebanon, Bangladesh, Somalia, Sudanese born in Saudi Arabia, and others.

My vote for Nation Who Had To Take Bullshit Unfairly Of The Year 2017: Mexico from the USA, with the stupidest idea in Modern Times, a “Wall”, paid by Mexicans, against their will, fucking with their border resources, and stealing tons of land. What a shame, the initiators should be punished, for that, to start with.

My vote for Most Potent Political Event Of The Year 2017: 4 US ex-Presidents coming together, to denounce what is happening in the House they all lived in, at one point, in Washington DC. George W was awesome! I had my differences with him, when he got re-elected, but this gives him 1,6 extra points, right away. He was honest, his delivery was heart-felt, for once, he knew his speech by heart. That’s how you judge politicians, by their legacy. Those 4 insisted to appear together, publicly, to share their convictions. For them to do it, the shit must be really bad, don’t you think so? I wish Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Willie Nelson, Stevie Wonder, KRS One, Saul Williams, Al Green, Eminem, Missie Eliot, Jermaine Dupri, Chris Rock (since he’s brilliant and was a Good friend of ODB), Raekwon (and surviving members of Wu-Tan), Nas, LL Cool J, Ice-T, Jay-Z, Puff Daddy, Busta Rhymes, Simon and Garfrunkel, Johnnie Depp, Colbert, Dave Stewart, Eddie Murphy, Leonardo DiCaprio, Chapelle from the Chapelle Show, Mr Elf with his Cowbell, surrounded by other Luminaries, from the US, Canada, like Neil Young, and Mexico, did the same, and gave the proceedings to people who really need it, in the three Nations. Between Bob, Bruce, Willie, and Stevie, at least 49% of the USA is going to react. Those guys are music Royalty, their words are Golden, for everyone who tunes in. I sincerely doubt any of them is eager to go to Washington DC, any time soon. Maybe they can all do a cover of “Imagine”, as 1 of the tunes, the 1 they all sing together. Maybe a title like “Two Roses (1 Red 1 White) For Nations With A Heart”, this is long, I can jam on it, if needed. I trust Stevie for the healing Ratios, this Genius is truly Amazing.

ODB is my favourite rapper and producer of all times. No one took his place, for almost two decades now. The guy was a Genius, every tune he wrote or produced is flawlessly crafted. I don’t believe that he was a junkie, he was just a rebel. I used to laugh my head off, reading the gossip columns of his antics, in the project, when I was in the Bronx, at the end of the 90s, when he was still alive. He was very respected in New York, but everyone was eager to see how eccentric and erratic he would behave. He had a Great sense of humour and wit, in his own flamboyant and public way. But, musically, in his Craft, a True Master, laying every brick in a Perfect and Conscious way. That’s what you call legacy, no one remembers the gossip.

There are two comedians I miss seeing on “TV”: Chris Rock and Chapelle. They are both brilliant, in their own style. Chapelle’s Show is probably the only incomplete series that became an instant Legend, the guy is beyond talented. As for Chris Rock, impeccable. I’m not always in the mood for his tone of voice, but the guy is real, his stories hit a chord, with his delivery. Plus, he collaborated with ODB, that’s plus loads of points, in my book.

Blasphemous Column: I respect Brad Pitt, but, is Angela Jolie free?

Leonardo DiCaprio became the favourite actor, or ex-aequo with Depp, from my Generation, after I saw him act in Edgar, the movie about J. E. Hoover. I was impressed, on my ass, what an amazing actor. He portrayed flawlessly a man from 9 to 99 years-old. Wow. Respect. He is a Master at his Craft.

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