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the-entitie · 9 months

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COD men x K-9 Unit male reader

Part 1 | Part 2》》

A/n: I can speak three languages, only one of which borrow German words, so forgive me for shitty translations. I'm from the RSA, so you know. Not any of the boys hometown.

Reader works with a K-9 unit and his partner is called Mutt who is a mix breed of Alaskan Akita and Doberman(Mutt is also a service dog as reader has paranoia and C-PTSD). Readers call sign is Riot. The 141 boys needed help tracing a terrorist and John called in some favors to bring Riot and Mutt into the field. He helped the Los Vaqueros as well.

After the mission back at base, the reader interacts with the men, and they end up interacting with him.

Reader is referred to as you or Riot.

Mentions of panic attacks, anxiety attacks, C-PTSD, war, and / or war related violence. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, past trauma. Death of a family member. Torture, scars, and flashbacks.

Left: American Akita and Right: Long-haired Doberman

John Price: (740 words)

-He met you first, saw you first. Hell, he verified your file so he knew of your old teammates that turned because of the torture, and he knew of the many years you spent MIA. He also knows what you did to get out. So he keeps you close and keeps an eye on you. He's the one who needs to clear you for this recon mission. It will be his fault if another team mate goes rogue. -It only take him a few minutes to see how much you actually relay on Mutt, it takes him days to see its not reliance, no the two of you act in a cemented trust between you two. From the interactions at home base to the way you both move like a well oiled machine on the field, it doesn't take a genius to see that Mutt is a deadly force with training that makes the hound that much more dangerous. Price comes face to face with that realization when he sees just how far Mutt can throw a soldier four times their size. And Mutt came up to his thighs, mind you. -Time and space are all Price really needed to trust you completely. He knew how you acted with Mutt, and therefore, he knew how you would act around a team you trust. It doesn't take him long to see its not only Mutt who reacts to you. You react just as much based on your K-9. Price nearly shoots you when you call out to Mutt because you didn't whistle for the hound. You howled, and he could hardly tell it apart from the wild dogs he's heard out in the desert. He didn't even understand what the fuck you where doing until he heard something answer you, in the same rumbling call. It took a lot more time to get used to those kinds of noises from you. He could expect them from Mutt but not when it's you who makes them -Both of you were exhausted, been about three long days on your feet with little sleep, that's when he asks you how you make the sounds Mutt does. Hell he even starts trying to learn them just to know how you and you K-9 partner work better. "So I just cup my hands and what now Riot? I Grunt?" "No," you laugh at him, he doesn't feel patronized by it, "you hold your hands around your mouth and just bark, makes it echo like a dog." He sounded more like a mountain lion then canine when he actually gave it a try. You teach him how to pitch it up a bit, and how to drag the call out properly. "And you don't use your hand because?" "Because I'm used to it, and can make the 'echo' without my hands. I still do when I howl. Look." A few nights pass before he uses it to scare a tango shitless out side of the enemy base. He doesn't admit it but he likes 'talking' to the local wild dogs with you. He even enjoys hearing you and Mutt go off at each other because it means your both alive and still here. -Out side of the field and when you two go out to roam the town at the dead of night, he comes to see that the canine noises you and Mutt share gives you peace. The kind he used to find in cigars and smoke. He gets it, he knows that some people just have a vice. When you find him smoking alone behind his own home, he shrugs it off and blames it on the smoke detectors. He doesn't say that he stops to make your K-9 more comfortable in his home. He doesn't stop smoking but he tries to avoid it for your sake. You only corner him around a day or so to thank him. He won't admit to the red flaring up on his ears, but he tells you to drop it. -If he's ever the one who finds you when your having an attack, he will guard you. Get you safe and comfortable then he will become a gruff mother bear and be completely over protective of you. He only calms down when he sees that Mutt already does that, and he learns what can help you, what to look out for. He won't admit it though.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley: (734 words)

-Ghost didn't like you at first. or well he doesn't like anyone actually but he didn't like you. -You had a dog breed that was originally made for bear bating and he hated that he knew that. Even if you didn't get the hound because of that. Well, that and Mutt is constantly muzzled. It took you explaining it was required by law for him to try and ignore it. -But when he watches how fluidly you and Mutt work together, even seeing the raw fucking power that dog has when Mutt tackled an enemy to the ground, he starts to understand why you have to keep Mutt muzzled. Even if he didn't like it. -Simon has an ex-military dog at home so he knows how to act around an active working dog. He's the best to be around if you don't want people petting or trying to do anything really with your K-9 partner. -when at the base afterwards he sees that the dog isn't just a working dog but acts like you service dog. Everything from crowd control to doing small tasks for you on the daily. To siting between your legs when you have your back to anyone when doing a task to protect you. Mutt will even start doing this quiet sort of 'rueff' sound that will make you get out of where ever you are without any fanfare, you will just disappear. -He only finds out why a lot later. He feel kind of stupid for missing it after the fact. -Its the scars that cross your back and over your shoulders, the hitches of thick skin around your jaw. You are a torture survivor. So suddenly he gets it. Mutt is your safety, the dog wears a muzzle because your K-9 partner is also a person protection dog. -After he realized the why you stick to your partner so closely, he would begin to help Mutt protect you. He would stand ahead of you when Mutt would lay down to create space (crowd control). Ghost would watch your back and react with your partner to help you. -He takes his mask off when you two are either alone or when your are forced to show your scares he shows some of his to help you feel more comfortable. -you start to notice it, and at first you would try to stop him but eventually you just start protecting him back. You become more comfortable around him. Simon notices it to. -One day after a few days straight of being on your feet, both you and Simon end up passed out in his private quarters. Ghost wakes first to see Mutt cuddle against you and draped across him, when ever he tried to move the dog, they would just growl and to his utter amusement you growled back. -After that he gets you to 'talk' to Mutt any time he can, even on missions. - Ghost was the one who told you and Mutt to bark at each other to distract the enemy when on a recon mission. "Copy Riot, we need an in" "Need an in, copy. Any ideas for that L.t?" "Yeah, Riot go off and make some noise with Mutt" "Seriously?" "Yip, get going we need that data" You two got in, and yes you did start howling back and forth with Mutt in the echo trick wolves use. The enemy thought they were surrounded by cayotes. -When you eventually cuddle up with Ghost again, and Mutt yips or growls at you and you make the noise back, Simon will growl at you. It becomes a games between you to, even doing it as call outs outside of coms. Soap complains about wild dogs once and now Simon will get Mutt vocal just to fuck with Soap. -he starts calling you dog related nicknames, your name doesn't exist anymore. Call sign? only when necessary. You are now called with doggie names. He'll call out a, "Heh, Good boy" "Come on puppy you can speak" when you go dark on coms, or just when you don't answer him. Yes he will also say things like, "What ever you say Fido" -He makes you swear to never tell a soul that he also barks back at Mutt when you two are off duty. You caught him coping a growl when playing with Mutt once. -He gets Mutt and his las to meet. Now he also makes dog sounds with you on his down time, even without you much to his old girls delight.

John “Soap” Mactavish: (616 words)

-He loves your K-9 partner from the first time Price introduces you to the team, sure he tries to be professional but the second you let Mutt go off to play out of gear he just wants to give the hound so many pets. They are just so big and have that cute angry tilt to their face! Can you blame him. -when out on the field, he loves running with two of you on missions. The adrenaline and rush and just how much faster you two are than him. He loves it. -You end up doing it with him outside of missions after a while. Hiking out in mountains and secluded valleys, it's the first time he hears you howl with Mutt. The coyotes had started, yipping over whatever they killed lower down the ridge. Mutt, who was a few paces head, had paused to howl, without thinking you howl with them. Scares Soap but he just finds it fun. -Soap being so in love with Mutt leads to just being around you a lot. He starts learning what certain movements mean to you and your dog, how a sharp left with your hand was a call to draw back or how the shift of your stance meant to take the lead. It amazed him how well you read each other. -Then he sees how you act outside of the field, how Mutt still acted like a protector, and you kept mimicking the sounds Mutt made. Especially when you were more tired. He found it cute. Hell, he loved playing with Mutt, so when you made the hound more excited, he also got just as if not more excited. -Soap loves head scratches you find out when you two are off duty and hanging out. He's on the floor with Mutt and the hound he's cuddling wines before you reach down to comfort the dog with head scritches. You miss and pet Soap instead, beside being completely flustered, he asked you to do it again. He just starts asking you to do it more and more before you start petting him the same way you pet over your hound. -Now you start with the dog related nicknames, even over coms. Much to Soaps embarrassment and the teams delight. He nearly buckles the first time you call him a good boy, and he does when you call him a good dog. Blames it on a miss step. -He loves, loves, loves listening to you, and Mutt yap back and forth, loves even more when you go to rough houses with growls and even try pining you down one. He fails, but he doesn't care. -Soap only catches one of your attacks when it's about sun down. You're both at his place standing in the kitchen when your shoulders suddenly hitch, but you continued on as normal. Until Mutt wandered over to you, they stopped dead before making a gruff noise and jumping up onto you. Instead of getting you secluded because, of course, the hound sees Soaps house as a safe space. And Mutt will get you down, force you to sit and lower your head. "Woh, n'er knew em ta jump? Wait shit. ROIT!" He'll be right there next to you, knows what to do because of Ghosts episodes on recons. "What's it, lad? What can I do ta help 'im?" -You don't really talk about it. Sure, you explain what it was and why Mutt did that, but not the why it happened. It takes a while to admit that the scares you hide are the reason for that attack. He gets it he does, and now? Mother fucker will do dumb shit to distract you, or just talk and talk and talk. It helps, he knows it helps.

König: (764 words)

-Being a sniper, he likes the added security, the extra eyes to help watch his back. Sure, he doesn't trust you per say but he tries to be friendly none the less. -He had no idea what Mutt was trained for until he saw the both of you take down someone who made it to his vantage point. He saw how you moved like Mutt was an extension of yourself, that's how you earn his respect. -König didn't know why you had so many commands for Mutt, but most of them were cues or just situational. Most of all, the verbal commands you use are in Russian and Dutch so he can understand some of the tasks you ask Mutt to do . It kind of scares him that Mutt would know which trail was a friend and which person wasn't. He stands by that fear when he watches you set them off on a run away target. -He will only admit to himself that both you and Mutt look way to good covered in the gore from that attack. -You had to explain that that kind of training meant your partner had to be muzzled. You both get to talking that night, swapping stories of close calls, and König shyly showed you the star splattered scar on his jaw. Lifting his hood up just enough to see it before hurriedly drooping it back down. You share a few of the worse days you had as a call in search and riot guard and snippets of the scars covering your throat. -Habits begin forming. König will be a silent wall between you and crowds while Mutt would start alerting to his anxiety attacks as well. You made a joke about borrowing Mutt to him on the days off. He didn't understand the first time Mutt barked at him in a weird gruff tone before jumping up and doing it again. It's when you get him secluded and safe that you explain it to him. "Its called signaling. They can tell you when these things are going to happen or are actively happening. " "So it's to let me know?" "Yeah, for me, it's when I'm going to either for a flash back or when my paranoia forces me into a panic attack." "Flash back?" "Yes, remember that sister I told you about." -It took days for you to actually relay that story to him. How your team abandoned you, how the enemy held your sisters head above your bloody form. You explained how that caused phantom pains or flashbacks and how crippling that can be some days. -He becomes your solace after that. He would be there when you needed it. Keep people away when you couldn't look at anyone. He even began listening to Mutts alerts. He even lets you help him through the easier ones. -König called you one night when you both were off for the next few days. You could tell by the shake on his breath what was happening before he could tell you. That was when you showed him how Mutt does decompression therapy, the hound big enough to help ground him. You stayed that night, even teaching König some of the commands you use to tell Mutt how to help you. He's quick to learn them as some phrases are Dutch that you use so he can catch the meaning of some commands. -You don't call him until a long while later. It's on a mission while you two are hunkered down after a botched extraction. Or well, Mutt calls him. "Riot? Are you, Oh Scheiße! 「Shit」" "wat 「what」, ag. What can I do? Dir helfen 「Help you」, how can I help. Please let me help you. " -He ended up holding how so you couldn't hurt yourself in these attacks. It didn't feel as entrapped as you thought it would. König is so much bigger than you, but it's like he makes a physical barrier between you and the world. He helps your partner make you feel safe. It's hard to explain to anyone why your panic attacks act like that, why your mind needs pain to calm from feeling like you're dying. König will explain how his attacks can feel suffocating, and that's why his jaw and throat are so bruised most days. -Between one mission and the next, you start showing off things you and Mutt can do to him, like Mutt retrieving throne knives or how the hound can trace any sent it knows for miles. -You only bark back at Mutt one night when trapped in a safe house. Neither of you could find each other, and mutt had run off

Alejandro Vargas: (720 words)

-Learning of the terrorist stationed so close to los vaqueros' home base, Alejandro was quick to reach out. The 141 had helped him before, so he was surprised to learn of the newer recruit they called in to help them. Alejandro told Price to just bring you along. They needed the extra help honestly, as much as he refused to trust any of 141 purely on principle. They needed the help. -He met you with Ruddy on the roof of the office building, and he asked the polit to land on. When you dropped from the helicopter with the others. Mutt held to your chest before being deposited on the ground. He's seen how some of the other search and rescue units who have K-9's, but he's never seen anyone who works with their hound like you do. Alejandro is both grateful and terrified to have you fighting with him. -Seeing you and Mutt outside the field was even more intriguing. How the two of you reacted perfectly to each other, he saw a bit of himself and Rudy in the way you two work like a well-oiled machine. He tried to play nice, be kind and calm, but when shit hit the fan? He drops it. Its only been a week before you use the recall command on Mutt to level the man they needed to interrogate. Both of you were forced to hunker down in a safe house, Alejandro making the bound man walk with little success. He asked for your help not long after the son had dipped down. "Think he will talk?" "Not willingly if that file you circulated was true." "Any ideas?" "You aren't scared of loud noises, are you?" "Not really, why?" -When you said you could help, this isn't what he was expecting, but it was working. You had taken to standing behind the tied down guy, and whenever Alejandro could sound even remotely frustrated, you would call out to Mutt before the dog would lunge with a snarl or harsh bark. Scared the man shitless, and he would mumble about 'de-ablo' or 'deamons' on and off. When things got too harsh, or either of you were cornered, he watched in equal parts horror and delight as you let Mutt cull those surrounding you all. Watch as you both kill together just as well as you work together. -It eventually became a joke, the whole you being a dog or sounding like one. Even when the two of you left the safe house. Hell, he started talking to you like he would your dog. Started to tease you with the same command you used on your hound. "Come on, Roit, I know you can beg better than that." "Here, cachorro cachorro cachorro [puppy puppy puppy]!" "Such a good boy, you want a treat?" "There we go, Good perro. Now sit for me." Even saying he kept treats for when you were especially well behaved. If you didn't also start laughing along he wouldn't have kept doing it and actually started keeping 'treats' on hand for you on the late nights you two would just talk on and on about nothing and everything. -Being back at the base and left to your devices, he started asking about everything Mutt could do. He would ask if you could also do the tricks and inquire about the ones you could. "Wait cariño, you can howl?" "Yeah. Wanna hear me?" "Oh more than anything." "hhhm, maybe I'll do it later." "I'm happy to beg you, but I think you would sound better begging me, cariño." "I don't beg Alejandro." "You will. And you'll sound so good doing it." "Try me," -He loved hearing you talk to Mutt. Just waiting up at night to listen to the back and forth of barking and yips that echo across the open land. Whether from far away or not, he loved it. -Alejandro is the worst when either of you get hurt. He is the worst flirt, and he lays the dog related teasing on twice as thick. Not only is Rudy swearing him out in broken Spanish, but you don't help either. Doing anything to help him stay conscious or playing along to distract yourself from the pain. Even Mutt begins to see him as safe.

More COD Boys x K-9 unit reader 》》》》

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shirefantasies · 5 months

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This is gonna be a weird one..

Azog and a human reader?

It can be smut or fluff.

Not weird, I like the challenge 😎 This is a fascinating concept to me I love human x non-human (as long as it’s still humanoid, I’m not a furry 😂) I’m sorry I don’t think this is very good though 😅😆 hope you still can enjoy!

Chains of Flesh- Azog the Defiler x Human!Reader

Warnings: minor language, implied past abuse

You had to be a liability. You suspected that from the moment they took you. That you could not fight well must mean little more than ill in your favor. Fighting was the last thing on your mind anyway as your body, consciousness fading fast, was slung onto the sloped back of a warg like a doll. You had fought enough in your days. Such was your last memory before you awoke.

Vines crept up stone walls. You had no memory of that place, no recognition as you clambered up from the battered cot frame. There was a haze in the air, a feeling like an unseen fog had drifted somehow inside and survived even the torch burning on a bent sconce outside the rusty bars. A prison cell?

Shuffling to the edge of the bars- though you dared not touch their jagged, soiled edges- availed you a greater view of your surroundings. A stone fortress of some kind, desolate and abandoned as it was, one hung with tight cages skeletons swung in. Clearly you didn’t have it so bad.

But why? What set you apart from men deemed little more than beasts? Greater importance or so stark a lack of threat?

Pounding footsteps had you straightening, stepping back again from the bars as boots echoed upon stone. Soon a pair of orcs stood before you and the first one, tall, dark, and broad, spoke slowly and intensely. His tongue was unknown to you, yet you knew it was the Black Speech; vile as it was said to be, the sound of it fascinated you.

The second, a shorter, leaner figure with scarred tan skin and an empty socket where his left eye once was, hissed in a quicker voice to you. “Information. You have it. Azog will deal with you.”

You’d heard that name before. Azog the Defiler was the sworn enemy of that dwarf named king, the one who’d brought destruction and strife to the town you unfortunately had called home. The bastard that called himself Mayor needed only one word of the riches beneath the mountain to change his tune completely on letting the town burn. If they wanted dirt on that villain and his filthy underling, they could have it and gladly.

The bars were wrest open and your upper arms seized by a leering orc on either side. Tempted as you were to smack the looks off their faces, you knew that would be a death sentence; instead, you bid them drag you up spiraling steps and toss you humiliatingly at the boots of the Pale Orc. His lip curled at the pair of underlings, then he looked at you with interest crossing his carved features. More Black Speech in a deep, richly imposing voice that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Tell us everything you know about the mountain,” the one translating demanded, “and tell us fast if you know what's good for you." Just to hammer his point in further, he pointed a quite redundant blade at your chest.

Even though it spiked your heart rate, you couldn't help rolling your eyes- you had yet to do anything but comply. Stepping forward as far as you could without impaling yourself, you ignored the faint pressure that jabbed you and spoke.

"They are only granted reentry on the one day. The one who calls himself king has the key. First priority goes to the main treasure room where the dragon is keeping his prize. After that, they reclaim the kingdom. It sounded like there were lower entries that may be blocked, so they have to go in right by where the dragon is, but I could be wrong.”

For what seemed like far longer than it had taken you, the shorter orc relayed his message to the Defiler, whose piercing blue gaze kept sliding to you. Azog spoke back as his eyes practically bore holes in your head, giving some command that sparked shock across the tan orc’s face.

“You show great promise and you seem like good fun… someone like you could be the perfect addition. A spy, even, too if you swear to us. What say you?” He bared his teeth as he spoke, rows of sharp, dark points. From behind him, Azog smiled, a look of smug curiosity that sent shivers down your spine.

You didn’t exactly want to find out what their methods were at answering denial, and besides… something told you they were not opposed to letting Laketown fall. And, if you were lucky, taking the men who mistreated you down with it. Swallowing, you shakily mirrored their dark smiles. “I’ll do it. I have enemies at the foot of the mountain. Lay waste to them.”

The tan orc spoke again. Moonlight shone upon them both. In one sudden motion the Pale Orc took hold of your arm in his one flesh hand, wrest it such that you were pulled into him. Somehow, though, he’d done it without hurting you. Pressed against him as you were, you may have been trapped, but as you felt the rapid beat of his large heart against the back of your head all you could feel was a rush. Azog’s hand ran up and down your arm.

The shorter, darker servant tilted his head. “Those Laketown scum have not been kind to you, have they?”

Heartbeat still thrumming against you, you just shook your head. Warmth coursed through your body. Azog’s metal hand traced gently along the curve of your neck, scratching the skin lightly. It brought a gasp to your lips, the cold sensation of metal upon skin. As soon as the air left you, though, he stopped.

He stopped. Let go slightly. Something Alfrid never would have done if you hadn’t punched him so hard he saw-

“Swear your allegiance to us, then,” Azog’s servant demanded with a grin, his harsh voice cutting through the stab of memories that had your chest heaving.

Shakily, you inhaled, breathing in time with the one who held you close. “What will you have me do?”

“Let the Pale Orc decide that. He’s the one who wants you,” he chuckled, smacking the shoulder of the taller, broader servant as they stomped away toward the door they’d hauled you through.

Only when they disappeared, door slamming at their backs, did Azog loosen his hold upon you all the way, fully releasing his chains of flesh as he watched you step back. He could have broken your neck, kept you at blade’s edge, but instead he just peered at you like a rare treasure he dare not break, lest his time of admiration then cease. You weren’t used to such a look- did he…?

“I am not the strongest servant you could have. But I think you know that, do you not? What is it you want? Is it my hate? I am tired of being downtrodden!” Your voice raised with each word, but you didn’t care. “I will fight to live, but only if I can do so with my dignity. What is it you want from me?”

Smiling again in that way that tingled your spine, the Pale Orc stepped forward once more to meet you, reaching out his hand. At first you flinched back, but heaving another breath you steeled your body and met his eyes again. No fear. If allegiance they desired, with courage you would offer it.

To your surprise, all the motion brought you was a new rush of warmth as he took hold of your cheek, thumb tracing the outline of the bone therein thoughtfully. His blue eyes glanced up, searched yours, and your heart lurched.

Why you could not say, perhaps the relief that flooded your very heart and soul at the question in his eyes, the chilling stab to your chest of realization that an orc could possess better manner than men, the sheer desire you felt to seal the waste of the place that harmed you so, but you found yourself nodding.

Moonlight shone off of that infamous glistening white skin, illuminating every scar carved deeply into its tone. Surprise colored Azog’s scarred face, then triumph once more as he surged forward. His lips were rough and you could feel the cut of his scars upon them as they moved to dominate yours. Fighting back, you found your own lips moving faster, your own stance straightening, though you dared not move your hands or loosen the Pale Orc’s grip upon your cheek. Best not have him changing his mind, after all.

Moments of warmth and shocking passion passed before Azog pulled away, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your head. Keeping your foreheads pressed together, he gazed intently once more into your eyes.

You understood. From the high towers of his smote-out ruins the Pale Orc had sought one not just to do his will, but to stand at his side.

Now all you needed to do was pass the test.

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x reader #azog #azog the defiler #azog x reader #gender neutral reader #ask #yourfatherlucifer #requested

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writingquestionsanswered · 3 months

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Do you have tips on writing lullabies? It's for a mom character from my story who often sings lullabies to her kid. I'm not exactly the best at writing song lyrics, so I would appreciate some tips on writing lullabies.

Tips on Writing Lullabies

First, I want to say that most traditional lullabies like Rock-a-Bye Baby, Hush-a-Bye, and Hush Little Baby are in the public domain, meaning that it's okay for you to use them in your story. If your story is set in our world, you may just want to have your character sing a traditional lullaby rather than writing your own. Just double-check that the song isn't anachronistic and that it is, in fact, in the public domain.

If you're writing a story set in an imaginary world, or there's some other reason why you feel an original lullaby would make more sense, it helps to understand a little bit of what lullabies actually are. The earliest known lullaby was recorded on a clay tablet in cuneiform script 4,000 years ago in Babylon, what is now modern-day Iraq. Like many lullabies over the centuries, it is a little dark and comes with a message for the baby: essentially, stop crying or you'll wake up the house demon. Many researchers believe that part of the function of a lullaby is to help the parent vocalize their fears in relation to the baby, whether that fear is related to the baby's mortality, the potential danger of crying (attracting predators or angering others), or even more personal concerns bothering the mother.

So, a good place to start is with your story's setting... where does the parent character live? Where did they grow up? What concerns do they have or might their parents have had (or the parents of that town/village/culture) that would make it into a lullaby?

For example, let's say you're writing a fantasy and the parent character comes from a village at the foot of a mountain range where mining is the primary industry, and heavy rains fall in the winter months which sometimes create dangerous conditions in the mine. From here you can imagine a parent sitting at home, rocking their baby to sleep while they wait for the other parent to return from the mines... but because it's raining, there's now the fear that the other parent won't return because the rains are so dangerous. How might that translate into a song? How might the parent vocalize these fears in some way to the child?

Some other things to keep in mind are the typical sound and structure of a lullaby:

-- 6/8 time signature with no more than 5 notes is common -- slow, melodic tones reminiscent of a heartbeat -- rhythm that works with rocking or gentle swinging -- few words, repeated over and over

You might even look at existing lullabies and use them as a template. Let's say I want to create my miner-related lullaby using Twinkle Twinkle Little Star as a guide:

Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky. When the blazing sun is gone, When he nothing shines upon, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

So, maybe it could be something like...

Rain, rain, the winter rain Mother's in the mines. May she find her way to you her darling Valentine. Rain, rain, the winter rain Father's turn will come. May the sun be shining soon, for now the day is done. It's simple and it tells a little story... these parents take turns working in the mines, and it's dangerous work. The parent left behind is always hoping the other parent will make it home to them, and that the rain will stop so it's not so dangerous.

Another example worth noting is the lullaby from The Hunger Games, Deep in the Meadow. (You can read the lyrics here.) This lullaby is lighthearted on the surface... it paints a beautiful picture of a meadow where the child will be safe and loved. But the darker undertone is that the meadow is the safe place while the rest of the world the child lives in is not safe, and that obviously hearkens to the specific world that Katniss and her family grew up in.

And while we're on the subject, although it's not a lullaby, the ballad The Hanging Tree, also from The Hunger Games, has a similar origin in terms of matching theme to setting. (You can read about it here, CW for dark themes.)

I hope that will help you figure out a lullaby for your story!

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exo-raskreia · 5 months

Text

Thoughts on GojoHime in the Phantom Parade side story

(An English fan translation of the full story here & another English translation of the GojoHime part here).

The story, "Satoru Gojo, The Night Before The Goodwill Event," is divided in 3 sections, where Gojo teases 3 of his closest friends, lol.

A little recap first.

So, it seems that weeks before the Goodwill Event, Gojo had been looking for ideas on what the students could do for fun. On the day before the event, he started off with Nanami, convincing him to go bowling. Finding certain aspects of it complicated (such as where it could take place), Gojo scratched it off & left, leaving an annoyed Nanami behind. (It's unclear if Gojo was simply watching or playing too, but he left when it was his turn to bowl).

That night, he found Utahime outside of the Tokyo Dome, having just finished watching a live baseball game. Her team lost & she was mad. After teasing her a bit, Uta asked him why he was there & Gojo said he knew she'd be in Tokyo, as both of them should be making preparations for the upcoming event. He added that unlike him, she was slacking off on the job by going to the dome. Ignoring him & surprised that Gojo was putting in the work, Uta told him to go continue his preparations then, but Gojo said she should come too. When she asked why, Gojo said if she didn't want him telling on her to the principals, they should go to a Batting Cage. Offering to pay for her as the cherry on top, he said exercise was good to let out frustrations & ran off. Confused, Uta chased after him (what in the shoujo rom-com is this)

She ended up hitting a bunch of home runs, leaving Gojo impressed 👀. After a couple rounds of batting on her own, she asked him what the batting had to do with the preparations. Gojo hesitated & told her it was a secret before running off again (teleporting?), leaving her confused. Gojo knew he'd find baseball the most fun even just by watching & decided to pick that as one of the activities for the students on the 2nd day of the exchange event.

That same night, he basically ordered a confused Ijichi to drive him to some stores to buy the equipment & uniforms for the baseball match & other potential activities. It was then revealed he was using the school funds, even for the bowling & Batting Cage (lol), & told Ijichi to add in the extra activities to the poll for the 2nd day of the event. As already established in the manga/anime, Gojo had rigged the poll & was happy that baseball won.

Ooh, boy... So, let's dissect this. How did Gojo find Utahime at the Tokyo Dome? Was it a coincidence, despite the amounts of people there? Did he sense or see her CE & followed it there? Or did he make an educated a lucky guess she would be there, as he knows she often goes to watch games when in Tokyo (since he pointed out that he knew she'd already be in town for the Goodwill Event)?

Gojo noticed she was upset about her fav team losing, so he suggested they go to a batting center so she could let off some steam, making it sound like it had to do with his preparations for the event (which, technically, it did 🤪). The thing is...Gojo didn't play with her. He stood to the side while she played.

And Uta just went along with it... She clearly doesn't mind being in his company, not to mention at night. She must've been pretty into it, & who knows what she was wearing; it's obvious that she must've been in casual wear (off duty & her miko outfit would've stood out too much at the dome). Gojo might've been in casual wear too. (Phantom Parade has all the characters in their default outfits despite the OG scenes showing otherwise in the manga/anime).

What was going thru Gojo's head while at the Batting Cage? He was clearly impressed by her skills, as she hit a bunch of home runs 👀. Before heading over to Ijichi, Gojo thought to himself that he knew he would enjoy baseball & that it was fun just to watch the batting...meaning it was fun for him to watch Utahime being all flushed & sweaty & in her cute outfit &—

He bought the baseball uniforms for the students & Utahime. How did he know their sizes? Maybe he asked Ijichi for the student files or something, like what measurements they have for their school uniforms. But Utahime? Gojo must've made an educated guess... His experience with women, maybe? 🤪 And that maybe he observes her a little too much...

Reminds me of some scenes in the Earl & Fairy anime/novel series in which Edgar would gift Lydia dresses that fit her to a T (when they weren't even dating or anything, lol) & she'd wonder how in the world he knew her exact measurements. Edgar was a womanizer so he was definitely well-versed in women's bodies, & was becoming very interested in her, so... 🤭 (If y'all want a dynamic similar to GojoHime, go read this series!! It's amazing!!)

Then at the baseball game with the students, Gojo put on his sunglasses (which he either wears on a whim or to pick up girls, as stated by Gege himself 👀) & his "seduction" outfit that he once wore to annoy Megumi in that one Jujusanpo. Meanwhile, Uta wore the baseball uniform provided by Gojo, matching her white bow with a white belt. Girl—

So, this proves the headcanon that Gojo had rigged the poll for Utahime. He knows she loves baseball & he canonically does too (as implied in one of the novels while talking to Ijichi & making references to the famous Japanese baseball player Ichiro Suzuki). They must bond over baseball when Gojo's not teasing 😩. Baseball date headcanons proven too 🤭.

Sure, Gojo added in other sports/activities to the poll, but the fact baseball won when Gojo had said it'd be the most fun...maybe he put more baseball slips in the box. In the manga/anime, the main takeaway is that Gojo chose baseball as the main activity 😏.

He picked something that all of them could enjoy, which was very sweet of him 🥹. I wonder if Uta ever connected the dots? Did she realize Gojo got the idea because of her? For her too? But maybe she was too irritated that she lost to Gojo at the game, lol, as she's very competitive. She was telling off her students here.

This makes me wonder if they made a bet of some sort. Imagine? We can have so much fun with this side story 😩...

BTW, what if Uta had been the one to introduce Gojo to the sport to begin with?! She'd get all nerdy & passionate about it. Gojo likes how expressive she gets & maybe that's why he enjoyed watching her play at the batting center? Not to mention the view— Must be one of the reasons he enjoys teasing her~

Anyway, I can't believe we got a story like this! So cute! We got fed good 🤭. Too bad we didn't get to see Nanami interacting with GojoHime (to potentially prove our HC's that he gets annoyed by Gojo's antics towards their senpai 🤭). Hope we get more crumbs like this in the future!

#gojohime #iori utahime #gojo satoru #gojo and utahime #phantom parade #had to get my thoughts out #more crumbs!#reiapost #slight edit

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levok · 11 months

Note

Patiently waiting for Omar's summertalk translation by our kind Swedish speaking friends 🧘🏻‍♀️

Let me google translate it for you <3 - after the jump (I havent read it through for errors)

There is a before and an after.

Before….then I had a music career. First as a member of Scandinavia's biggest boy band and then as a solo artist.

…I was on my way.

Since…. apparently some idiot in Wuhan ate a bat and I ended up behind.

The pandemic.

Everything was closed and turned off.

There were no studios to go to. No offices to have meetings. It was like that for everyone, but then and there it felt like it was mostly for me. It sucked.

I had no job, no one needed me, no one wanted to see me. I got depressed, everything was just shit.

Lying paralyzed at home in the rickety apartment in Barkarby where I was staying with a friend. I slept in a mini bed, we had no living room, no comfortable chair to sit on and it was quite dirty.

What choices did I have?

I could start studying at the high school.

Or I could smear myself in dog food and throw myself in with the pit bull terriers, that sounded better.

Not a chance I'm going back to school-hell.

Then, through my friend Felicia, who is an actress, I heard about a casting for a new TV series. It was a crime series created for Viaplay, "Lyckoviken".

Now that the music career was over, maybe I should invest in becoming an actress? The role was made for me. A singing guy with a guitar, foreign accent, around 21 years old. It's me. Except for the guitar, but I could learn some chords and try to look like I'm good as shit.

Now everything would turn around.

After the casting, Felicia and I got to audition one more time because they liked us. They liked me.

Then I just waited for them to call from the production and say that I would play one of the main roles in the series "Lyckoviken".

At first they didn't call.

But then…. they didn't call either.

The only text I received during these gray days was from my friend with whom I lived.

It said: "I'm breaking up with you as a friend."

What the fuck? Most unclear. I have to move out of here, what the hell is going on?!

But the role, it was mine... until Felicia called and said that someone else would play me, or I mean play the role that I wanted.

I cried.

I cried when I called my mother in Spain.

I cried when she answered.

"Mother my life is over. I'm 22 and it's all over. I can't handle anything, I don't get anything."

Mom gets sad. But she doesn't show it. She has taken me from Venezuela to Sweden. She has done everything for me and for me to succeed in my dream, my artist career. She has fought for me to succeed in what she herself once dreamed of but could not realize.

She says, in Spanish: “Omarcito. Now I want you to stop crying. Take a shower, fix your hair, put on your best outfit and hit the town and show the world your face. You are going to make this day the greatest. You should feel your best, look good and meet your best friends. Don't hide at home. If life hits you, get back up and show life your face.”

"Sal y muestra tu cara a la vida."

Go out and show life your face….

Yes, mother. That's exactly what I'm going to do.

MUSIC: Azul – Cristian Castro

Mother,

I don't remember my first years, surely no one does. But you have told us about our time together. About dad, who drank. Quite often he was scary and dangerous. That he used to kidnap me sometimes and no one knew where he took me. We lived in a baby blue house in a beautiful town called Puerto La Cruz. It is located on the coast, right on the Caribbean with lots of white beaches in Venezuela.

One day we came home and dad had pulled. He took everything with him. He must have had help, because the only thing left was a mattress, a painting depicting you mother, and my gold necklace, which was probably dropped on the floor on the way out. That was all that was left. And so I, as luck would have it.

Dad never came back, but the family on your side was there, especially grandma. The women in the family always showed up after the men left. There are some men who have actually been good in my family, a few. But women have always been strong. Time after time, they have lost everything, and then they have struggled and organized and worked to make sure that the children and the family have a good life and a roof over their heads.

I remember Grandma, and I've missed her ever since she passed away. She turned 50, it was cancer.

Grandma was the worst fashionista. Always makeup, head to toe beautiful, always high heels.

Mom says grandma couldn't walk without heels, then her feet hurt. Grandma and her husband were self-employed. They had a guard company and access to weapons. Grandma knew exactly how to use them.

You stood there in the ruins of your life mom, but grandma helped you get back on your feet, and me.

Then you had to fight to make our lives work. You worked long hours, and luckily we met a girl, Rosita. Her family came from the high mountains, where the poorer families live.

She became the daughter that you, mother, never had. She moved in with us and took care of me while you were away. I liked her so much, we used to steal mangoes from the neighbor and eat them with lots of adobo. It is a salt seasoning.

While you were trying to put our life back together, Dad put our house up for sale. He totally messed with us, messed with you living in the house with his and your child. We didn't even know about it.

One day grandma drove us home, and the house was locked with a big padlock. We saw some women moving inside our house, they were cleaning. Grandma took out the gun, aimed at the lock and shot it to pieces. Weapons drawn, she entered, the women threw their hands in the air and shouted that they knew nothing. Then they ran away, across the asphalt, without even taking their shoes with them.

It became a fucking war with lawyers. In the end we actually got to stay.

(Short break)

Cut to - we had a good time. I had my own bed. A separate room filled with lots of toys.

We even had a dog.

But life must have been so hard for you mom.

I understand that. I see it, and I hear it, and I believe you, mother you must believe me - for me it was a wonderful time, perhaps the best of my life.

I was so loved. You, great-grandmother and all her children, my uncles and aunts, cousins and the whole family. You loved me. I loved you.

In grandma's big red house we had family dinners and parties. Grandma had her own animals that roamed freely everywhere. Turtles, two swans who were very dangerous though and always chased me and my cousin Ahimee when we were out playing.

We also mustn't forget Grandma's pet monkey, Panchito. Everyone hated that monkey, it was a pig to a monkey, it threw mangoes at us and peed on the food. Grandma protected the monkey with her life and would beat whoever tried to harm the monkey.

Grandma loved to sing and dance, just like everyone else in the family, but she was a fucking superstar.

And maybe she put a ray of her talent in me.

Someone lifted me onto the table and shouted: "Cheer for the artist Omarcito!" I sang, threw off my diaper and danced. You think I'm drifting but it's actually true. Someday you might get to see pictures.

I felt so good in Venezuela, was the happiest kid in the world.

My childhood was a web, a pattern of love, light, music and warmth.

But in my life there are also other patterns.

I had a crappy dad. Dad had a crappy dad. Mom had a crappy dad.. Grandma had a crappy dad. Great grandma had a crap dad.

Listen, mom, that's enough! I promise I'll be the first to break the pattern.

MUSIC: A Puro Dolor – Son by Four

I have a few memories from when I first came to Sweden.

Everything is like blurry fragments, or puzzle pieces that my brain can't quite put together into a complete picture.

When we land, it's summer, and it feels like...nothing at all. It's a beautiful summer day, not as hot as at home but still quite nice.

And there he stands, Tomas.

He stands there and receives us.

To me it is unclear who he is, he is just Tomas. A new friend.

He had visited us in Venezuela a couple of months before so that we could get to know him and he would get to know mother, me and the whole family. He was liked by all.

Now I get to see his car, a red Volvo. I'm not that impressed with the car, but it's red, it's nice.

We get into the car. I get in the back seat and fall asleep, my memory goes out there.

When I wake up, I'm lying on a sofa bed in an apartment. It feels like I slept for three days. Or some puzzle pieces are missing. But this is where we will live now, in this apartment, in this city called Karlstad.

Mom and Thomas lean over me, they hold a giant stuffed snake over my face and I start laughing. They are so quirky. That snake is mine now. Love that it's like three times as tall as me.

Now the fragments come a little closer.

Over time I realized that mother and Tomas were in love. They hugged and laughed a lot together. Tomas started to become a bit like a father figure to me. It was a bit hard to take in because I hadn't grown up with a father, and not being able to talk and understand him didn't make it any easier at first. But I felt safe with Tomas. He was funny, kind and he made up funny things with us. He was there every day, it was something new for me. Something I would get used to.

After only a month from the time we landed in Sweden, there was a wedding. I had to help mom choose a wedding dress. We both agreed it would be a white dress. I specifically wanted her to have a little crown in her hair, like Disney princesses have. That's exactly how it happened.

It was a nice summer day. The wedding was outdoors, at Toma's mother's house. She had the most beautiful plot I have ever seen. There was the scent of flowers everywhere you went. Mom and I loved their plot and I couldn't stop adventuring.

At the wedding I was allowed to eat as many strawberries as I wanted. I have never eaten as many strawberries as I did that day. They were so red and juicy. After a while I was the only one who looked like a little drunk, shirt unbuttoned and soaked, dirty pants, messy face and hair a mess. Then out of nowhere, torrential rain.

There was panic, people tried to save the food and cake, mother's white dress got dirty and stuck to her body. The grass was super slippery and people were slipping around. It just got crazy. Then we stood under the balcony roof for the rest of the wedding.

It was still a nice day as I remember it.

Hope the bride and groom also feel the same way as I do.

All in all it was a nice time.

My first month in Sweden.

MUSIC: Mama – Omar Rudberg

When I was little, I had a lot of fantasies. I made movies in my head. I pretended to be every superhero I had just seen on film and I fought bad guys.

I loved dinosaurs. When I didn't have toys, I played with my hands. I made a dinosaur with one hand and another with the other.

Then it just sounded….pshoo…chee….they were fighting. They have the hell of a fight. One flies into the rock wall, others fall and get stuck with their teeth in the ground.

It was at such a weird level that Tomas thought they should take me to a child psychologist, just check me out to be safe.

Mom was stressed. She wanted me to be a healthy kid. But to be absolutely sure that I was really healthy, they sent me to a child psychologist. She had lots of nice toys. We hung out for an hour or so and we became very good friends. I don't know how we talked, maybe she knew Spanish, but we clicked. Then mother came, she was very worried.

The psychologist said: "You must never laugh at or play with Omar's fantasies, because he is a healthy kid. He is a child, let him be and let him live in his little world, because he will be happy and well.”

So there was nothing wrong with me.

And honestly, I needed my fantasies, because the first time here was alone.

We wanted to become Swedish citizens, but I wasn't allowed to start school. Officially, we were here as tourists and did not yet have a residence permit.

I missed over a year of school.

So it was pretty much mom and me.

Tomas worked every day.

If we had gone to a foreign country on the other side of the world, just mom and me, then you have to stick together. And we did.

We went out every day on discovery trips to get to know Sweden and Karlstad.

It was summer but the weather wasn't as hot as at home, but it was still chill.

Something that mom and I noticed was how calm and quiet it was in Karlstad compared to where we came from. Not a lot of traffic, no honking cars, no loud music anywhere, no one standing and shouting at each other in the middle of people. Yes, it was much quieter here. It felt safer for both me and mother, but often it also got a bit boring.

One day I got a dragon, a green dragon. It had dragon wings and a dragon face. I had never had a kite before.

Outside the apartment was a tall grass hill.

I went all the way up and tried to get my kite to take off. In front of the hill there was a kindergarten, and a great many children were playing there. I remember the feeling so strongly, I watched them and really wanted to be there. But I was not part of their world.

It was difficult to get the dragon up. Sometimes it flew a few meters but then it crashed.

If I ran fast, it went better. Downstairs from the kindergarten, I used to hear the other children being called in for snack, but I ran on the hill.

It did nothing.

I was alone, but it didn't matter. I understood that my time had not come yet, but maybe soon? There will surely come a day when the kindergarten teacher will call: "Omar, you have to come in now, isn't it?" And I would say: "My name is actually Omaar!"

In Venezuela I had also attended kindergarten. There you start learning things early. Learned to spell and write when I was about three years old. And I had a lot of friends. There was even a girl that I had a crush on. So I knew that I am also someone who can be someone's friend.

And now we also had the psychologist, what did she say? "Omar is a healthy kid."

The wind caught hold of the kite, and suddenly it took off. Loud, fucking loud. It jerked a little to the sides and tried to tear itself away. But I held the string, and it was I who steered the kite, however it danced with the winds. On a grassy hill in Karlstad, I was in charge.

Omarcito, a kid with a lot of imagination. Who tames dragons.

MUSIC: Te Quiero - Barney

I learned Swedish quickly. Absorbed in me the language without doubt. I began to notice that my mother often asked me, "What does this mean?" What does this email say?” or "Can you help me write a text message?"

Tomas only spoke Swedish to me. And with mother, for her to learn.

I started to think it was cool with Swedish.

It became so cool that I stopped speaking Spanish with my mother.

She didn't like it, not at all. One day everything turned around, she exploded.

“We are from Venezuela and our language is Spanish!”

"From now on, I won't understand if you speak Swedish to me."

She stopped answering me when I addressed her in the wrong language. When I asked for water in Swedish, she just looked at me.

I got mad, she thought she was stupid. “Can you please stop?”

She absolutely did not stop.

“Yo no hablo sueco Omar. Check my hair. Check my face. I'm not from here”.

It was her way of keeping me close to our roots. She was afraid that I would forget the language and lose our common origin, and perhaps even more our common background. She didn't want to lose me. She didn't want me to lose myself.

We were in Sweden but we were something other than Swedes. I soon understood that, not only from mother but from everywhere.

Here I was different. I didn't know the language, my hair was curly, I had a different style and I was fat brown. As a child I was very brown.

So even though I was scolded by my mother for becoming too Swedish, I was not Swedish among Swedes. But when we went to visit relatives in Venezuela, I was suddenly Swedish.

In Venezuela, my cousins did my mining. "Have you gone and become a gringo now or not? What the hell do you sound like? Gringo, gringooooo hahaha”, I kept hearing. Got teased for losing the Venezuelan way of being quick in the mouth.

So now I became sensitive and easy to push down.

Went crying to mom several times.

“They say I'm a gringo. I was born here.”

"But what's the problem, you like to speak Swedish." Then get on with it,” she said.

I didn't place anywhere. Now I was the dragon and no one was holding the string.

MUSIC: Amparito – Maracaibo 15

Maybe it was because I didn't place anywhere that I started taking places?

I was an outsider, but I didn't hide.

I sang and danced and at the age of ten I started performing and competing in talent contests.

Mother was a dance teacher and had started her own business. She had great dance classes.

She herself had had dreams of becoming an artist, but above all an actor when she was younger.

I got to join her classes and dance with her and all her students. Helped choreograph and cleaned up both before and after her classes.

I became very good friends with a group of girls in one of her dance classes. They were a group the same age as me.

Mom coached me. Helped me choreograph light dance steps and with staging that I would run on stage.

She and Tomas used to drive me to the races. My goal was to be in Talang on TV4, never missed an episode.

And I actually dared to apply, I was accepted to take part in a selection when I was ten years old.

But after my first attempt at Talang in a shopping center somewhere in Sweden, I didn't make it. I had danced like Michael Jackson, was dressed like him, it was Billie Jean. They didn't choose me, but I was still happy, because afterwards the jury said I was good.

Mom knew how to top our act to make it better. She didn't give up. I would move on. She found out that the week after, Talang had an audition in Jönköping. This time I wasn't just going to dance. Now I would sing and dance. There was a lot of snow on the roads and I remember we were stressed and late.

Mom happened to drive the wrong way. We rode in a minivan and slid on the snow like ice skates.

But we make it just in time, mom asks them to please let me perform and do my audition. They say my name and the crowd cheers. The music starts.

It's Livin' La Vida Loca with Ricky Martin on top volume.

The audience screams.

I dance my way onto the stage, shake my shoulders, wiggle my hips and create chaos.

Walks off stage suffering from stomach cramps. I'm in a lot of pain and I'm lying on my mother's lap, it's probably the nerves and the tension.

But I have moved on. I'm going to be on TV, for the first time!

MUSIC: Livin' La Vida Loca – Ricky Martin

I went to a school in Åsa. Located about 40 minutes outside Gothenburg. The school consisted of only Swedish kids. Everyone would be the same, that was important.

But I lived in a bubble where sometimes I was a star, sometimes I fought villains. My imagination was as wild as ever.

Soon my performance in Talang would be broadcast on TV. My debut in front of the big audience. I proudly went up to the principal to ask for help with the marketing.

“Hello,” I said.

"Hello," she said, looking at me curiously.

"Well, on Friday I'll be in Talent on TV."

"Okay."

"Can't you say it over the speakers so the whole school can hear it?"

I was the only guy who did gay things like singing and dancing and thought it would be cool to get a shoutout from the principal. So fat.

"Absolutely," she said.

"Yes!"

"But then I think you should say it into the microphone yourself."

"Huh!"

Never in my entire life that I should stand there and everyone should hear me when I say I should be on TV.

I was constantly teased for the way I looked and for what I did, and I got comments all the time and some called me the n-word. Sorry but how sick is that? To use that word against any human being at all

Besides that, I'm not even black, but brown. I am Hispanic. But I guess I was the brownest thing they had seen in Åsa.

Interesting how children of that age have learned such words.

Guess it comes from home. Big side eye…

Anyway. The headmaster stood his ground.

"You're welcome to tell the school you're going to be on TV, but I won't."

"Well...I'll think about it"

I left there. Thought of everyone who would hear. The nines would hear my voice. The nines! So I was in the fourth grade and we were probably 200 students at that school.

I decided to screw it up, but then I regretted it.

I was still annoyed.

It couldn't get worse, rather only better because everyone knew they could see me on TV soon.

And because I got a shoutout from the principal.

I got up again later that day and said I was done thinking.

“I do it myself.”

"Good," said the headmaster.

"Then you press this button, then the microphone turns on and when I say NOW, then you can start talking."

I pressed the button and heard ding ding. Felt like it could be heard in all the classrooms, the dining hall, the gymnasium, the whole world would now stop what they were doing to listen to me. Felt my pulse increase. I kind of had heart palpitations.

"Now," said the headmaster.

“Hello, this is Omar. I'm in Talang on Friday. Everyone can turn on TV4 and watch it. Bye."

The principal smiled at me and looked happy.

"Thanks," I said and ran as fast as I could to my class. I was filled with adrenaline. I was so happy. Felt so cool.

When I enter the classroom, everyone looks at me.

“Did you hear?”

Everyone was so happy and thought it was so cool.

No one had ever been allowed to speak into the principal's microphone. This was big.

I had made it through, or maybe I would make it through.

In any case, it shouldn't get any worse now.

I hoped so anyway.

MUSIC: Happier – Omar Rudberg

The reactions in the school after Talang were great at first.

A short while.

But… it was quickly forgotten.

Left were the maids.

But I kept doing my thing, even though no one understood what I was doing.

I had to start going to a singing teacher, Marie Jakobsson. I developed quickly. With her I got to sing in a studio for the first time ever. With reverb and headphones. It was a sick feeling.

From her I learned that there was a man named Lasse who had talent contests.

There, at Lasse's competitions, they had discovered, among others, Eric Saade and Molly Sandén.

That's what I've been told anyway.

I was a big fan of Eric and knew all his songs.

I entered, and won, in the same year, all three of their biggest competitions.

It was big.

It went well now.

For a boy of 12 years.

One day our home phone rang and mom forced me to answer.

I hated answering the home phone.

I got so mad when I had to answer. I thought it was a disturbance.

Well, at least I got to answer this time too.

Mom stood and grinned.

Thomas too.

There was something strange in the air.

And then something completely insane happens.

"Hello."

“Well Omar! How's it going? It's Eric Saade calling.”

I'm going to be a Duracell bunny. Jumping around the whole house like an idiot. Jagr completely in shock. I turn questioningly towards mother, who is filming with a mobile phone, it is shaking because she is laughing so much. Looking at Thomas who is also about to fall over with laughter.

To Eric, who called, I don't say much. Maybe just: "hey...hey".

“I wonder if you want to perform with me. There is a gala on television called Kristallen.”

I probably didn't get many words out on the phone, but...

Then we stood there a while later. Dressed exactly the same, we performed together at the Crystal Gala in 2011.

It was the best thing that ever happened to me!

When I got back to school, everyone knew what had happened. It felt like it was the talk of the year.

People turned, stared, there was talk.

Everything was different. But not exactly better.

A guy who always argued with me came up and said:

“Have you been with that Eric. You know he's peddo right? Everyone says that.”

"You understand that he is a peddo and a gay. You are too, aren't you? Fucking gays.”

No, I didn't immediately become a poppie. The equation was very simple: The bigger the appearance, the scarier the school.

I came home crying a lot of times, and it got to the point where I wanted to stop singing. But it was too late now. I had gone outside the mold, pushed boundaries. There was absolutely no turning back, no way I could get them to accept me as one of them.

Mom supported me.

"Do you like to sing Omar?"

"But I don't want any more..."

“But do you LIKE to sing? Do you love to perform?”

“Yes… but…”

"Then we will continue to do what we love together!"

And the cow was right. Why would I give up what I loved, to fit in with those I really didn't love? And we had fought hard to get here, mother and I.

But everyday life was a pain. There were many that I was afraid of. Both boys and girls. Even got a smack here and there. In the end, I hated my school.

I started seventh grade and finally had to change schools, to a bigger school in Kungsbacka. And now I could start seventh grade as who I was, an artist, or at least a guy who liked to dance and sing.

But I still find it strange that I have to change schools, just because I wanted to be something. Isn't that why you go to school?

MUSIC: Diamonds - Rihanna

New school and new classmates. It started well. I got a reboot. No one would push me down. The only thing that was similar to my old school was all the looks, but the looks were different, more curious now. It felt like they knew who I was, though I didn't understand how.

Guess it was because of Talent and the Crystal, but I don't know.

I ended up in a music and art class where everyone had the same interests as me. Loved all my new friends and loved our music lessons.

Mom had filmed all my performances and put it all on Youtube. Thanks to her I was discovered.

A newly started record company from Stockholm contacted my parents. They wanted to start a boy band.

Cool. But unexpectedly.

I never thought I'd be in a boy band. I was always solo.

But a boy band was interesting, and I had already won all the competitions, so why not try?

I didn't say anything to anyone. I wanted to keep this to myself. I was tired of beautiful dreams at school being shot down by taunts and comments. Without telling anyone at school, I went to Stockholm. There I meet the other boys who will also be in the boy band. I was wearing some ugly sweater, purple cap, purple shoes. The boys must have thought I looked funny. They were Stockholm boys, blonde and tall. Fat sweet.

I was terrified. Hadn't really had such good experiences with guys in groups right away.

But I noticed pretty quickly that they were kind. There was something different about them. I thought they were cool. We got to dance together, and hang out all day. They were professional dancers so I struggled a bit but I learned quickly. Then I had to sing Justin Bieber's song "As Long as You Love Me" in a studio because the record company wanted to see if I could sing. It went well. But at school, no one knew what I was doing. Even when I was accepted and became a member of the boy band The Fooo, I didn't tell anyone.

MUSIC: Build a Girl – The Fooo

At school, there is talk of Justin Bieber coming to Sweden. It's his "Believe tour". He will have three fat gigs at the Avicii Arena. People are crazy tagged. Like all the girls at school are going to Stockholm to see Justin. I'm the one who was tagged the most. Secretly.

Concert week is here. Everyone is going to Stockholm. But I have to leave earlier. We're going to scratch and I've taken the day off from school.

"I'm leaving now, see you!", I say to my classmates.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to the Justin Bieber concert?"

"Now?"

"Yes, I'll scratch with my band."

“What the hell are you talking about?”

"I'm Justin Bieber's band, we're going to be on stage."

People really thought I was joking. I understand them, I didn't believe it myself.

I can't put into words how sick this time was. It was unreasonable. This kind of thing doesn't happen?

We became the band The Fooo and were now to perform for the first time together as Justin Bieber's band. In Avicii Arena. Three nights in a row.

Nobody knew who we were, nobody knew we existed. No one had heard us, not even ourselves. Although we had scratched hard the days before on our dance and on our song

The fans scream, the whole arena shakes and the curtain on the stage opens.

I'm checking on the boys.

We all smile. Now it's happening.

And we drive. So we meat, all of us.

It will be chaos.

Thanks to the three nights at Avici Arena, we become the new big thing.

The Fooo shows up, and there's chaos and screaming and hysteria.

MUSIC: All Around the World - Justin Bieber

The Fooo was just over five years of tumult.

In 2017 we did our last tour together and then the story ended.

But, what a fairy tale.

We became stars from day one.

After a year as a group we had our first own tour. After two years we sold out the Avicii Arena. We won a Grammy, we won MTV awards, toured throughout the Nordics and the USA.

It was the best I knew. I had so much fun.

We ended up in a hurricane.

It started when I was 14. I was just a kid. It was for fun, it wasn't work, not at first anyway. But then it became more and more serious. Often I could stop taking responsibility.

I got grumpy and grumpy when we scratched for hours and I was hungry.

“You have to be professional, Omar.”

No, I screwed up.

“I don't have to do anything. I am completely exhausted in my body, and I want to eat mother's food, I just want to go home.”

I went to school on weekdays and traveled to Stockholm every Friday and home late on Sunday. Every week, over, over and over.

I traveled by myself. The first few times it was scary. Didn't know anything about Stockholm and was afraid of missing the trains. I had no accommodation. In the beginning I had to live with strangers. I don't know how mum managed to get accommodation, it was probably a friend of a friend. Sometimes I felt really bad and I was scared at night because I didn't know the people I slept with.

But I'm still grateful that they let me sleep over there. Never went back to the same places though, so it was always new. Mom could never relax in the beginning either. But then after a while I had to live with the boys. One weekend at Felix's, another at Oscar's and then at Ogge's. It was much safer. I could finally breathe.

One person you only heard about at the new record company was Ola Håkansson. You never got to meet him. Who is this Ola Håkansson? You only heard his name and we boys saw in front of us a mafia king sitting in some office with a lot of cash on the table and sunglasses.

But at a parents' meeting with the other people responsible for the band, Ola joined for the first time. There he found out, via my mother who was very upset, that I had nowhere to live. That I often lived with strangers. Then and there everything changed.

I became a small part of Håkansson's family. I got to live at Ola's, Anna's and their children's house. People with big hearts. It was such a great time. So many great moments. So many discussions at the dinner table and so much bickering you got to witness. (Omar laughs.)

I remember when I accidentally threw Anna's specially made zucchini pasta in the food waste grinder just before dinner. I thought it was rubbish. (Omar laughs.) Five minutes later she asked, "Have you seen my zucchini pasta...it was just here?"

The panic that hit me, fuck my liiife.

And of course I had to admit what I had done. She just sighed and looked very tired. She must have really wanted that zucchini pasta, damn it!

I lived with them for four years. Mom and I will be forever grateful. They are our family, and will be forever.

And I had my friends in the band. We were all children, who eventually became boys, together. Maybe not adults, but we matured, a little.

Fooo started when I was 14 and stopped right when I came of age. It became my youth.

When the band shut down, I was suddenly alone with all the decisions.

I knew exactly what to do. I wanted to sing in English and Spanish.

But then I realized that nobody listens to Latin American music here.

It was a difficult time.

I was lost. I was unemployed and making music that no one listened to.

No, after Fooo, it didn't turn out the way I imagined the first year.

Not second or third either.

I really wanted to take over the world.

But the world wasn't that interested.

Or, rather, the universe had other plans for me.

MUSIC: Oh Susie - Secret Service

So… winter is coming. You know that cold winter of 2019, I didn't get the role in "The Bay of Happiness", my music career was dead and my friend broke up with me as a friend.

"Show life your face," said mother.

I tried. After my outburst on the phone, I went into town and had a chill day with my friends.

And winter became spring, and spring became summer.

I enrolled in a high school, it didn't feel like a privilege, more like a punishment. But what could I do, there was nothing else for me. Didn't want to start working in a cafe, I was afraid of being seen as a failed artist.

It's a real shame, because I would have easily wanted to work in a café instead of studying high school.

Ending with me moving in with another friend, Raul, in Hammarby Sjöstad. In the world's smallest apartment that we shared for three months, we hung out together with my best friend Joel. It was furnished and there was both a TV and a comfortable sofa.

Time sped up, I was dragged along.

And it sounds weird, trigger warning, but my best summer ever rolled around. The world was closed, there was a pandemic and restrictions. But I hung out with all my friends, there were maybe ten of us. We saw each other every day that summer. We really only had time and each other.

In June, my friend Felicia, who was also one of the gang and who had previously tipped me off about "Lyckoviken", told me that she was applying for a new Swedish TV series.

"Damn, what's that?"

"It's a new youth series for Netflix."

"Whoah?! What is it about?"

"I'm not really allowed to say, but it's about a Swedish prince who starts at a boarding school and sort of meets a guy and they fall in love. Ah, it's like a gay love story.”

“How do I get in there? I will have the role of a prince.”

MUSIC: Simon's Song (from Young Royals) – Omar Rudberg

In August, the same sweet summer, I am in Åsa to visit my mother. Sitting on the beach watching the dance class she leads.

I am calm and enjoying the afternoon sun. The program is going badly, I have to admit. Of the two tasks we have received, I am behind with...two. The teacher's tone begins to sharpen.

I also don't have a job or other concrete plans worth leaning a future towards.

I've been to maybe ten casting meetings, costume tests, callbacks and filmed a whole day with the film crew and Edvin for the TV series Young Royals. Been thinking about this series 24/7 for over a month. Came every time they called me, put up with everything they want, gave everything I have. For me, this was life and death. I had managed to become friends with Edvin, who was to play the prince. I understood that the first time I saw him, that it would be him. He is young and extremely experienced. But I could be the secret love. We have test filmed at Hillerska. Picked flowers and held each other's hair.

But why don't they say anything? Why am I not getting a notification?

I lay down on the beach and look up at the afternoon sun. Hear how mom starts rounding off with calm music and stretching movements with her students. She thanks them for today. She looks at me and smiles.

Then my phone rings.

"Hey Omar, how's the situation, is it good or not?", says the familiar voice from the production.

"Yes that is good. Is it now happening or, have I received it or not?”

"You, don't tell anyone I said this, but, you've been offered the role of Simon."

A few weeks earlier I would have screamed myself to death with joy, but not now. This is how it was meant to be.

"I know," I just say.

We end the conversation and I laugh. As much of relief as of joy. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that I had landed my first role as an actor. My mother waves off her last students. She comes walking across the beach. We will bathe. She looks at me and notices that I'm happy. She knows what I'm going to say. She knew I would get that call today.

"I got the role of mother."

"Le mostraste tu cara a la vida mi hijo."

"You showed life your face my son."

Yes mom, I did.

#omar rudberg #sommarprat

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mossyflowers · 5 months

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Tossing this art here so I can ramble abt my Cipher, thoughts below the cut because i've come up with a lot of stuff for him :]

Early life-

His real name is Ciro Palomo, which mean lord and pigeon respectively. However, the name Ciro also sounds a lot like cero, which is the Spanish word for zero

He was born around that gulf area in Sapin that bordered both Osea and Belka before the borders were moved

His parents were allegedly perfectly happy, well off, and could have taken care of him, but decided to leave him at a small orphanage instead. Essentially leaving him with nothing, including no memories of them.

Due to a wide variety of reasons, he didn't learn to speak until he was five, and didn't bother speaking much after that anyways due to no one wanting to listen

A lot of his time was spent wandering OUTSIDE of the orphanage, since he couldn't stand being stuck inside with all the other kids. He'd spend most of it staring at where the ocean met the sky and trying to imagine himself somewhere inbetween it

He also spent a lot of time interacting with some of the adults in his town, with some older women who'd moved to the town to escape the recession in Belka especially taking a liking to him. Telling him a lot of superstitions and other little things from their home, including a few myths about fairies

There was a baker who'd sneak him food that was taken off the shelves and a few days away from going bad, just so he could have some treats every now and then

When he was 17, a group of mercenaries came to town that he ran into while he was out. Eventually convincing them to take him with them before they left town. This was also the group that taught him how to fly.

The squad was called Extraño, which (I hope) translates to Stranger in Spanish

His first and original callsign was zero, as the group preferred to use numbers and he was essentially their first member with "zero" experience.

Cipher did not know how to read until one of his wingmen eventually taught him how to once they realized this.

It was his flight lead who drilled it into his skull to not shoot down neutral targets, insisting on pride above their paychecks.

They flew together for five years, before they took a contract with Ustio some time in September by the name of Operation Thresh. Where they were sent into the Round Table and attacked unexpectedly by another squad.

All of them died except for Cipher, who managed to survive shooting down seven enemy pilots alone, as well as a crash due to a sudden engine failure from sustained damage.

He managed to walk away with only a few severe burns and some damage to his nose. He wasn't happy about the fact he got to walk away.

The Belkan War-

After Extraño squad's deaths, Cipher became increasingly detached and began taking more dangerous missions while taking more risks in the air due to a mix of resentment and survivor's guilt

Cipher also kept a guitar from One, a pocket knife from Two, a rubik's cube from Three, and a notebook full of sketches from Four.

He originally signed on to work with Ustio under the impression he would NOT last long during the war.

Was both very hesitant about Pixy and confused by his behavior. He was pretty confident that Pixy would live longer than him, but still didn't want to get too close in case anything did happen.

The first mission at the Round Table and Pixy saying they'd survive was essentially a massive slap to the face that resulted in Cipher starting to open up to others again.

Alcohol was originally seen as a necessary evil to him for getting new contracts at dingy bars. He started enjoying it after Pixy kept dragging him to the bar on base, though.

He and Pixy would usually end up cuddling in the same bed if one of them got drunk enough, starting after the liberation of Directus.

Liberating Directus also got him to cry a little in his jet, and was one of the proudest and best moments of his life.

During practice and drills, he would purposefully try the craziest maneuvers he could just to see if Pixy could keep up.

Pixy also got him to start reading more.

Being called a demon was something he actually took pride in, until Hoffnung.

After Hoffnung, he stopped taking pride in a lot of things.

Pixy's betrayal hurt him a lot more than he let on, and he spent a lot of time wondering if there was anything he could have done differently before it happened.

PJ was like a little brother to him <:)

Despite everything, he thought the duel over Avalon dam was extremely romantic and attractive

Cipher also decided to disappear on the same night/morning after all the stuff with AWWNB and V2 happened for a lot of reasons. Mainly not wanting to be seen as a hero or remembered for what he did, though, there was also a lot of guilt over what happened to both PJ AND Pixy

Post war-

As soon as he could, he moved to what was left of Belka and into the city closest to Avalon Dam

Working with different groups of volunteer and rebuilding efforts helped him get into construction.

He still does contract work, but instead of being a mercenary pilot, it's mostly either construction or music performances.

Cipher also does a lot of street performances with his guitar, with him having a specific spot in the park near Avalon that he goes to perform at fairly often.

At some point, he gets a degree in music theory from a local college.

He ends up performing the music for his own documentary ten years later, too.

After the documentary, he tracks down Pixy again. The two of them work out most of their stuff eventually and end up getting together because they deserve it I think <:)

Misc stuff-

Cipher doesn't know when he was born, but I like to think it was 6/6 just so it'd be an extra punch to the gut.

He's Sapinish and was born and raised there, but doesn't have a very strong accent.

Has a chronic case of resting bitch face, unsurprisingly.

He also struggles a lot with emotions, specifically internalizing them after he realized getting mad at people who killed people you cared about and then killing them doesn't actually fix the fact the people you cared about are dead. It's easier to make him happy than it is to get him mad.

Thinks a little too much and tried to use flying as a way to cope since it cleared his head a lot

After his squad died, he also became physically incapable of speaking while flying as a trauma response. This also applies any time he's in the air, or somewhere that reminds him too much of flying or the sky.

He knows how to swim and is actually very good at it

Ended up learning how to walk silently as a kid to sneak out and never unlearned it

Somehow managed to completely train out his fear of heights and falling as a child on accident.

His first flight lead was the one who taught him how to play the guitar

Cipher was also a bit of a cunt before he went through his whole character arc during the war. He'd purposefully try to end missions as soon as possible and screw over other mercenaries he was flying with if he thought they'd try and shoot something they shouldn't

He's got a huge soft spot for kids and is actually surprisingly good with them

Also has a soft spot for pigeons, even if he's not great when it comes to getting them to not immediately fly away from him

Very sentimental, he collects things that other people give him and goes out of his way to take care of mementos from all of his dead wingmen.

Refused to die unless something killed him (nothing did, so he just left in the end)

He feels really bad about what happened to Belka after everything

#ace combat zero #cipher ace combat #doooo i tag this as ace combat? i don't wanna like. flood the tag with my rambling n all hfgjjvgkhfg #genuinely was not expecting to type this much #i just have a lot of thoughts abt cipher. he's my silly guy #i'm soooooo normal abt him and pixy and ac0 and everything goinf on there <- lying

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p4nishers · 10 months

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when hozier said "As a child it was the place names/ Singin' at me as the first thing/How the mouth must be employed in every corner of itself/To say "Appalacicola " or "Hushpukena", like "Gweebarra"/A promise softly sang of somewhere else" and when hozier said "And as a young man blessed to pass so many road signs/And have my foreign ear made fresh again on each unlikely sound/But feel at home, hearin' a music that few still understand/A butchered tongue still singin' here above the ground" and when he said "The ears were chopped from young men if the pitch cap didn't kill them/ They are buried without scalp in the shattered bedrock of our home/ You may never know your fortune/ Until the distance has been shown between what is lost forever/And what can still be known" and then he said something like "So far from home to have a stranger call you, "Darling"/And have your guarded heart be lifted like a child up by the hand/In some town that just means 'Home' to them/With no translator left to sound/A butchered tongue still singin' here above the ground" and when he wrote butchered tongue i died

#can u tell im literally sick with adoration for this song bc im about to throw up #i haven't seen ONE SINGLE PERSON talk about this song and im going insane andrew what the actual fuck #hozier #unreal unearth #hozier unreal unearth #hozier butchered tongue

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mossynebula · 5 months

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TRC as songs from Unreal Unearth (Hozier)

EXTREMLY long post but I think its worth reading, Buckle up!!

Ronan: (De Selby part 1)

"At last when all of the world is asleep"

"to the bliss of not knowin' yourself"

"Bhfuilis soranna sorcha Ach tagais 'nós na hoíche, Trína chéile" (You’re all bright ease But you come on like night Entangled)

Kavinsky: (De Selby part 2)

"I wanna run against the world thats turning"

"I wanna run so far, I'd beat the morning"

"I dont need to know where we begin and end"

Prokopenko: (First Time)

"And the soul, if that's what you'd call it, Uneasy ally of the body"

" And some part of me must have died, the first time that you called me baby, and some part of me came alive the first time that you called me baby"

"but fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself"

Gansey: (Francesca)

"My life was a storm since I was born"

"I'd tell them put me back in it"

"I would still be suprised I could find you Darlin', in any life"

Skovron: ( I, Carrion (Icarian))

"If the wind turns, if I hit a squall, Allow the ground to find it's brutal way to me"

"If these heights should bring my fall, Let me be your own, Icarian carrion"

" I only pray, don't fall away from me"

Jiang: (Eat Your Young)

" Let me wrap my teeth around the world"

"put in front of the table, sellin' bombs and gun"

" You can't buy this, fineness, let me see the heat get to you"

Adam and Blue: (Damage Gets Done)

" Without shame, two outfits to my name"

" I heard once, it's the comforts that make us feel numb"

" You and I had nothing to show but the best of the world in the palm of our hands"

"If the car ran, the car was enough"

" That first car was like wings on an angel"

"But I know being reckless and young, is not how the damage gets done"

Swan: (Who We Are)

"Gettin' through still has a cost"

"To hold me like water, or christ, hold me like a knife"

"Chasing someone else's dream"

Noah: (All Things End)

"If there was anyone to ever get through this life, with their heart still intact, they didn't do it right"

" All that we intend, is scrawled in sand, it slips right through our hand"

"Never watched my future darken in a single tear"

(The entire choir section)

Declan: (To someone from a warmer climate)

"Uiscefhuaraithe" (water-cooled)

"all my dreamin', is only put to shame"

"There are some things that no-one teaches you, love That God in his awful wisdom first programs in"

Matthew: (Butchered Tongue)

"As a child, it was the place names Singin' at me as the first thing How the mouth must be employed in every corner of itself To say "Appalacicola" or "Hushpukena, " like "Gweebarra" A promise softly sung of somewhere else"

"But feel at home, hearin' a music that few still understand A butchered tongue still singin' here above the ground"

"And have your guarded heart be lifted like a child up by the hand In some town that just means "Home" to them With no translator left to sound"

Lynch Brothers: (Anything But)

"I'd fit all my joys and my pleasures in one perfect day I wish I was the sunlight, just sitting on the Mississippi I'd settle for a shopping trolley in the Liffey"

"I don't wanna be anything But I would do anything just to run away I don't wanna be anything like this at all"

"Look, I wanna be loud, so loud, I'm talking seismic I wanna be soft as a single stone in a rainstick I wanna be the thunder of a hundred thousand hooves moving quick If I was a stampede, you wouldn't get a kick I wanna be the shadow when my bright future's behind me I wanna be the last thing anybody ever sees"

Fox Way: (Abstract (Psychopomp))

"The feeling came late I'm still glad I met you"

"The memory hurts But does me no harm Your hand in my pocket To keep us both warm The poor thing in the road Its eye still glistening The cold wet of your nose The Earth from a distance"

"The speed that you moved The screech of the cars The creature still moving That slowed in your arms The fear in its eyes Gone out in an instant Your tear caught the light"

Gangsey and Dream pack: (First Light)

"Your eyes open, at first a thousand miles away But turning, shoot a silver bullet point-blank range And I can scarce believe what I'm believing in Could this be how every day begins?"

"The sky set to burst The gold and the rust The colour erupts You filling my cup The sun coming up

Like I lived my whole life Before the first light"

"One bright morning goes so easy Darkness always finds you either way It creeps into the corners as the moment fades A voice your body jumps to calling out your name But after this I'm never gonna be the same And I am never going back again"

#please read #the dream thieves #the raven cycle #trc #tdt #joseph kavinsky #kavinsky #dream pack #the dream pack #gangsey #ronan lynch #blue sargent #gansey #the raven king #song lyrics

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hyacinth-sims · 2 months

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Be Okay

Summary: Tybalt practices for his first piano recital in seven years, and comes to realize what makes it much more emotionally challenging than it needs to be. At least there’s someone to help him pick up the pieces this time.

Warnings: None

Pairings: (Established) Tybalt Capp/Mercutio Monty

Word Count: 3.2k

Author’s Note: okay after hurting them so much they get to be cute together are you happy???!!!! although i’d say it’s more hurt/comfort for tybalt, but worry not mercutio will also get his hurt/comfort moment soon! also tybby is a bit ✨softer✨ here since they’re already dating, granted idk how long they’ve been dating but! i tried to keep a lot of his attitude just y’know…less outright mean since they’re bfs and not enemies here 😭 also i will probs publish the mercutio hurt/comfort piece later this week but after that i’m gonna take a short break cause y’all i have less than a month of this semester left and the struggle is REAL!!!! i’ve got so much shit due every week oml! also yes vendetta has not been forgotten about, but it’s a bigger piece so it’s gonna take some time to plan out. i don’t know if these one shots are “in” the vendetta universe so to say, but we’ll see!

In exactly one month and one week, Tybalt Capp would have his first piano recital since his mother died. The last time he’d performed on a stage, in front of an audience, had been seven years ago. He was on the cusp of 19 years old now, and the last time had been about three months before the fire. For seven years, he wasn’t quite ready to face another audience—to look out into the crowd and not see his mother’s smile staring back at him. But he wanted to perform on that stage one last time before he was set to graduate for her.

He was performing two pieces, Nocturne No. 8 by Chopin and Liebestraum No. 3 by Liszt. Chopin was his mother’s favorite composer, and Nocturne No. 8 was her favorite work of his. There was no question about whether he wanted to perform it in her memory; it was only right for him to do so. His second piece was a personal choice, as Liszt, on the other hand, was his favorite composer. He thought about performing La Campanella as it had been burned in his brain from having to perform it in front of his grandfather and his associates, but he wanted to give himself a challenge and learn a brand new piece.

Liebestraum was also a considerably romantic piece, the title directly translating to Love Dream. He initially told himself that it would fit with the theme of Nocturne No. 8, as that was the song that led his parents together. However, it would be a lie to say that he hadn’t been feeling particularly…mushy lately.

He wasn’t sure if he would call Mercutio Monty his boyfriend; it seemed like an oversimplification. They also hadn’t exactly talked about things such as labels or terms, but Tybalt didn’t mind much either way. It wouldn’t change anything about what or how they were anyway.

Mercutio didn’t come to the Capp manor often, but it had nothing to do with whether or not Tybalt wanted him there. Patrizio and Isabella catching Tybalt at the Monty ranch would likely be quite bad, but Grandfather catching Mercutio at the Capp manor? All hell would break loose.

Grandfather was out of town for a business conference, though, and his sisters were having a sleepover at Miranda’s home. He knew he needed to practice for his recital, but being in a secret relationship due to the fact that your families hate each other has taught Tybalt that every potential moment should be taken advantage of. Besides, Mercutio seemed quite enthusiastic about watching Tybalt play the piano. He did ask to be serenaded, though, which Tybalt refused.

He let the final notes ring out, cursing himself for the minor mistake he had made prior. “Sounds just as good the sixth time,” Mercutio teased—sitting in a backward dining chair he had pulled up to the piano. He rested his chin on his folded arms, placed on top of the back of the chair.

“Measure 51 was sloppy,” Tybalt commented with a slight huff, flipping over the sheet music to review as he furrowed his brow. He could practically hear his grandfather commenting on all the tiny mistakes he’d made in his head despite his absence. “I’ve done better before. I need to iron out the mistakes,” He grumbled as he grabbed his pen from the piano desk—circling measure 51 for future reference.

“You’re overthinking it,” Mercutio answered, shrugging his shoulders. “If you keep looking for mistakes, you’re just going to make more,” He added, “Brute forcing it will just burn you out.”

There was nothing he hated more than Mercutio being right, so much so that verbally admitting he was right was a difficult challenge. Tybalt was trying, though, choosing to silently put aside the sheet music for Chopin and replacing it with Liszt. It earned a small smirk from Mercutio that was answered with a scowl from Tybalt.

He took his time to look over the sheet music before even pressing on a single key. It wasn’t the most challenging piece he’d ever played, but it wouldn’t be a walk in the park either. Tybalt took a deep breath in before exhaling and playing the initial few notes. It was a ritual for him, an attempt to release all of the expectations and pressure—choosing to let the music take over instead. Did it work? Not very often, but it was nice to try.

He hadn’t practiced his recital performance in front of his grandfather, not after an argument between Juliette and their grandfather a few weeks prior. It wasn’t often that his sisters witnessed his piano practice, but Juliette just so happened to be doing her homework in the living room. She must’ve been watching his hands as he ceased for his grandfather to point out every little mistake he’d made—and much to both of their surprise, Juliette yelled at Grandfather. It was rare for any of them to stand up to him. For being quite the hothead typically, Tybalt had never once raised his voice at his grandfather.

Juliette said that Tybalt needed a break, as they’d been going for 3 hours at that point—repeating the same section of the same piece over and over. She pointed out his shaking hands, his tired eyes, and the fact he looked as if he was on the verge of breaking to pieces. When they were alone, Juliette suggested Tybalt practice independently for a while—to be free of their grandfather’s criticism.

But he wondered if he would ever be able to get better without him watching over his shoulder like a hawk, pinpointing every tiny mistake he made throughout. Much of Tybalt’s determination and improvement came from wanting to make his grandfather proud, wanting to prove to him that he could be the best and that he was worth something to their family. After a performance, ranging from child to teenager, from stage to party, Tybalt always sought out his grandfather’s face first. He wanted to see just a hint of a smile, a quirk of his lips, anything that would show that he was satisfied.

His eyes stared down at his fingers intently, watching as they danced around the keys. It was similar to how he would watch his mother as a child. Her playing was always so elegant, so gentle—something that never quite came naturally to Tybalt. Tybalt played the piano as if it were anger management, freeing all of the negative emotions that weighed heavy on his mind. It was brilliant for pieces such as the 3rd movement of Moonlight Sonata or Allegro Barbaro, but awkward when attempting to play things romantic and soft—another two adjectives that did not exactly align with Tybalt.

He was trying, though; he was really trying. He was trying not to be so hardened, so closed off, so defensive. Every single day, he remembered his grandfather’s speech about the dangers and destruction of love, and every single day, he started to feel as if it was the truth. The question remained if he would prefer to protect himself from the pain or risk it all for the happiness his mother spoke of.

Although perhaps the true question was if he deserved to love and be loved at all. He’d ruthlessly pushed away anyone who ever got close, no matter who they were. If they ever tried to pry, he would hurl insults until they no longer held any interest. He was the antithesis of everything his mother hoped for him to be, in favor of trying to fit his grandfather’s expectations.

Good people were the ones who deserved love, like his mother and father, who were willing to stand against his grandparents to fight for their love. Like his sisters, who stand proud for their family but would never allow it to overtake their own morals and beliefs. Like Mercutio, who seemed to believe that his purpose in life was to make everybody around him happy—he deserved to be happy himself.

It felt like no matter what he did, he was always going to be disappointing someone. His grandfather, his sisters, the memory of his parents—he would never be as great as he wanted to be for them.

There wasn’t a missed note, a stuttered section, a wrong key, not a single thing out of place. But none of it felt right. The way he was playing, the sound, everything was off. He stopped in his tracks, a half note playing out before complete silence began to smother the room. His eyes wandered down to his lap as his hands left the keys, his fists tightly clenching—the stinging feeling bringing a strange relief.

He could imagine the disappointing stare from his grandfather already, not a word or piece of criticism leaving his lips. If it wasn’t the minor mistakes to be pointed out, it was always the feeling. It was always the fact that he didn’t believe Tybalt understood the song. There was always something, something that always proved he’d never meet expectations.

He didn’t notice any movement or the presence of another person until he felt two hands loosely wrap around his wrists, turning them face up. “How have you not stabbed your palms yet?” Mercutio said quietly as he gently pried open his clenched fists, Tybalt staring down at the indents of his fingernails left dead center in the palm of his hand.

Another one of his horrible habits threatened to be released, insisting to Mercutio that he was very much fine and continued to play. He didn’t want to lie, though, but he wasn’t sure what he could say that wouldn’t leave him crumbling.

He couldn’t bring himself to meet the other man’s eyes, pursing his lips and staring down at his resting hands. “I feel like I’m failing her,” Tybalt murmured, glancing over to notice the raised eyebrow from Mercutio. “My mother,” He clarified, “She never wanted me to fall into…this, like needing my grandfather’s approval every damn second, inheriting that rage and vengefulness from the feud, refusing to be weak.” He couldn’t help the sarcastic laugh he let out, “I’m doing this for her, but I’m honestly not quite sure if she would be proud of me today anyway.”

A pair of hands cupped his cheeks and gently turned his head, and there was no avoiding his gaze anymore. His tired, stormy eyes met warm brown that were filled with concern and a sense of worry. Rarely did anyone look worried for Tybalt; they often just looked at him with anger, neutrality, or worse—pity. “Don’t start,” Mercutio said with a frown, “You don’t wanna go down that rabbit hole, trust me…it fucking sucks.”

He supposed no one could better understand him than Mercutio, having also lost both of his parents quite soon after Tybalt. Being the heir or heiress is probably difficult. Tybalt would never deny that—but he had a feeling that being the oldest was harder. They were both expected to be the protectors, to dutifully watch over their younger siblings without a single crack. They had to live up to the expectations of their grandparents while also being the ones to remember most the horrid loss that led them there in the first place.

They both had to exist solely for a family that would discard them once the heir took over.

“Look, I didn’t really know your mom that well,” Mercutio admitted quietly. Tybalt could remember the few occasions that they had met, but they were quite a long time ago. The first time Mercutio met his mother, he’d presented her with a daisy he had just plucked from the ground—telling her the scientific name Bellis perennis, although mispronounced horribly. Still, it was certainly impressive that an eight-year-old remembered the name at all. “But I do know that she loved you a lot,” He continued, “And she definitely would’ve been proud of you, and I mean…I can say for certain that I’m proud of you, does that count for anything?”

His cheeks began to heat up in surprise, unsure of how to respond. Truthfully, he couldn’t even remember the last time someone had directly said they were proud of him. Maybe his grandfather would occasionally give him a hum and a nod of approval, but that wasn’t the same as hearing it directly. “I suppose it does…yes,” He confessed. Tybalt was excellent at stringing together creative yet eloquent insults, but romance and niceties didn’t come easy—even simple words such as ‘thank you’ were a struggle for him.

Mercutio hummed as he slung an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer to him. “And you don’t have to do this if you really don’t want to,” He added, “I don’t think your mom would want you to do something only for her sake.” He had a good point; his mother never liked forcing him into things he wasn’t interested in doing. But there was just…a part of him that—

“I want to do this,” Tybalt assured with a slight nod, “I like playing, I like performing…I just really do not enjoy the pressure from my grandfather, and I do not enjoy looking for his face in the crowd after a performance only to see it unchanged.” He could feel a kiss placed on the top of his head, along with a slow nod. Tybalt still wasn’t used to physical affection, but he’d gotten better at not suddenly jolting or tensing up with even just the slightest brush of fingertips against his skin.

His family was never known for their affection. Tybalt couldn’t even remember the last time he’d hugged his grandfather or his sisters. Truthfully, before Mercutio—he probably hadn’t hugged anyone since his parents died. Meanwhile, physical affection seemed to be a staple of the Monty family. Mercutio and Romeo never shied away from putting an arm around a friend’s shoulder, and Viola could usually be seen sitting on her friend’s lap or even kissing their cheeks. It was a far cry from the Capp family, truthfully.

“I’ll be there then,” Mercutio offered with a smirk, “I’ll even force everyone to give you a standing ovation and clap so loud you’ll know exactly where I am in the crowd without even having to look.” Most people would think that to be hyperbole, but Tybalt had a feeling he was being dead serious.

“Your grandparents might actually have you hung, drawn, and quartered if they found out you were sneaking out to go see your secret boyfriend from the rival family perform at a piano recital,” Tybalt commented, “I think they’d find that worse than simply sneaking out to make out somewhere in a field.”

Mercutio laughed, and Tybalt could maybe feel a bit of a weight lifted from his shoulders—metaphorically, of course. “So two things,” He began, “First, if you wanna do that again after your piano recital, I’d totally be down, second—we’re boyfriends now?” He sounded so smug once he reached that second point, and Tybalt put two fingers to the other man’s cheek, shoving away his face.

“Don’t get cocky about it,” Tybalt warned, although he imagined that advice would fall on deaf ears.

“I’m gonna be so cocky about it,” Mercutio teased in return.

He rolled his eyes with a groan, “I’d expect nothing less from you, to be quite honest.” Their journey to where they stood now had been nothing less than chaotic, although he supposed that was typical for Veronaville. They were friends and crushes as children, enemies as teenagers, and this on the brink of young adulthood. Admittedly, he was still afraid to call it love. It was all his mother ever wanted for him, but it was still a very terrifying thought. He’d get there, though, one day.

“You wanna try again?” Mercutio asked as he looked towards the sheet music still placed on the piano desk. “Or take a break?” He continued, his eyes glancing back at Tybalt. Tybalt really couldn’t help how he practically slumped down on the bench, his head resting on Mercutio’s shoulder. He felt utterly drained at that point, both emotionally and physically. While he would typically keep playing until he played perfectly, every part of his body screamed for a break.

“Break,” He murmured decisively. He could always pick it up again tomorrow, and his grandfather wouldn’t be back for another few days, so there was ample time to practice without him. Mercutio would probably still be there the next morning, anyway. He didn’t necessarily need him to be there to play, but it sure did feel nice to have someone there who actually enjoyed his playing.

Mercutio nodded in response before giving Tybalt a mischievous grin, “How about I make dinner and then kick your ass in Smash?” His delusion was clearly admirable; Tybalt had to give him that.

“You’re god awful at Smash,” Tybalt pointed out as he straightened back out, “You’ve been playing Luigi for a decade, and I still beat you every single time.” He didn’t grow up playing video games. He only really began about a few months ago at the suggestion of Mercutio. Unfortunately for him, Tybalt was obviously much better at all of the games the other man grew up playing.

“Hey, I let you win because I was trying to get you to like me,” Mercutio defended, but Tybalt simply brushed him off with a roll of his eyes.

“Why would I swoon at you being terrible at video games?” Tybalt retorted, “You really need to work on your methods of seduction.” Admittedly, Tybalt initially thought that Mercutio was actually letting him win the first few times they played together. But Tybalt very quickly realized that Mercutio was actually just that bad at Smash. Great at Mario Kart, though.

Mercutio moved his hand down to his waist, tugging him closer. “Did it or did it not work though?” He teased—and of course, this ended up causing a debate about whether or not his ‘plan’ had worked. Mercutio insisted that what he was saying was totally true, while Tybalt said that any amount of seduction was in spite of his horrid Smash gameplay. They definitely ‘argued’ about it for far too long, as they’d both forgotten about the plan about dinner and video games until about 10 PM.

Both of them ended up staying up well past 2 in the morning, the time having gone by in a flash. Although admittedly, they didn’t fall asleep til at least 3:30. Apparently, they hadn’t really thought about the fact that Tybalt had a twin bed, and trying to find a comfortable way to sleep might as well have been like playing the world’s most brutal game of Tetris.

They slept on his bedroom floor instead, and for the first time in a long while—Tybalt thought that maybe, just maybe, he would be okay.

SECRET ENDING AUTHOR’S NOTE: would y’all like a post-recital one shot? 😁 lemme knaur

#mercutio just wants to be serenaded tbh #also i have no idea what time period this is set in do NOT ask #ts2 #the sims 2 #ts2 premades #veronaville #tybalt capp #mercutio monty #sims 2 #tycutio #sims tycutio #sims 2 fanfic #the sims fanfiction #the sims 2 fanfiction

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