#like I’m truly feeling more confident in my story making skills just watching this unfold | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silversatoru · 3 years

Note

Hi, I just finished burdens and OML 🥺🥺🥺

May I request some sort of megumi x reader continuous where the reader ends up becoming a powerful sorcerer (or a cursed spirit👀 whichever you’d like tbh) megumi and the reader somehow cross paths again a little while after the break up and he witnesses her fighting for the first time? I just know that boy would fall in love all over again but she’s moved on and he feels guilty and just angst? And maybe fluff idk. I’m new to requests so I hope I did this right, thank you so much❤️❤️

burdens pt. 2

a/n: hello, part two of this not-so-lovely story is finally here. every single one of you is allowed one free punch to my face for taking so long to write it,,, i’m so sorry. this is its fourth rewrite and it got a little darker than expected but it’s finally done,, i hope you enjoy <3

fushiguro megumi x f!reader

synopsis: you finally see megumi again at the kyoto sister school goodwill event

tags/warnings: angst, some graphic depictions of violence, character death

word count: 3k

“Do you know how tired I am of watching the people I love die? Things would be so much easier for me if you just stayed the fuck away”.

Megumi’s bitter words were on repeat in your head — the harshness of his voice leaving a hollow feeling carved into your chest. Tear-stained cheeks and shaky breathes had become your new normal these past few days. Tight, sharp pains filled your empty stomach, waves of nausea coursing through your body.

You’ve had no motivation to get out of bed lately, nevermind to shower or cook yourself a proper meal — honestly, for all you cared you could rot away in your blanket filled bed. You checked your phone like a fiend too, thinking that eventually, a miraculous text from Megumi would appear and make everything better. It never did.

He’d completely ghosted you since that dreadful day, and that hurt more than anything. You’d held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't meant what he said. But as the days continued to pass, your hope quickly dwindled.

To say your current state was shameful was putting it lightly, and you were embarrassed at how poorly this was effecting you. You liked to think that you were strong, motivated, independent — that you didn't need some douchebag just to feel happy. But truth be told, breakups are fucking hard, and it's okay to not be okay for a while — or at least that's what you kept telling yourself.

So when you were trudging miserably down the street to your local convenience store and you saw a familiar pair of jujutsu sorcerers, you wanted desperately to sink into the ground. You made a quick turn to head to a different shop, but it was too late, you were spotted.

“y/n! hey!” Two lighthearted voices sang through the air, filling your ears and making your heart clench in your chest.

You turned around and anxiously approached them, your unkempt hair and baggy eyes sending looks of concern across their faces.

“Hey girl, you good?” Nobara shot you a sideways glance, Maki raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh, ice cream,” You croaked, speaking for the first time in a couple days, “I’m here for ice cream, that’s all”.

“Yeah, but why do you look like a fucking zombie?” Maki pushed her eyeglasses further up her nose, her sharp eyes looking you up and down.

“Ah, he didn’t say anything to you guys, did he?” You shook your head, heavy eyes falling to ground as you refused to meet theirs.

“Don’t tell me…” Nobara’s face contorted, “Did he break up with you?”

You nodded, a pitiful chuckle falling from your lips, because if you didn’t laugh, you’d start sobbing right now.

Maki threw her arm around your shoulder, pulling you to her side and ushering you into the store, “It’s okay, men suck. Hang out with us today”.

Meanwhile, Nobara trailed quickly behind the two of you, anger seething from her teeth and steam practically billowing out of her ears.

“That fuckhead! I swear I’ll fuck his shit up big time, he won’t even know what fucking hit him. I knew that boy was stupid but shit, this is a whole new low for him! I-,” She continued to ramble and rant as Maki led you through the store, picking out drinks and snacks to help ease your pain.

The three of you ended up in a nearby park, sitting around a small picnic table and gorging on the massive array of snacks. Lighthearted conversation and lots of food make your chest ache a little less, and you even found yourself laughing and chatting as if things were normal. You’d told the two of them all about that day, about Megumi’s irrational words and his tragic breakdown that led to some kind of fucked-up break up sex.

“So, how are we gonna get back at him? Egg his car? Put bleach in his shampoo? Bugs in his food? God - it’s a shame his dad is dead because from the pictures I’ve seen that man was FINE and revenge sex—,”

“Nobara,” Maki shot her idiot girlfriend a dirty look, and the orange-haired girl quickly shut her mouth, “As much as I support any idea that revolves around ruining a man’s day, I don’t think revenge is the healthiest coping strategy here”.

You were tracing your eyes around Maki’s face as she spoke, and you found yourself carefully inspecting her purple glasses that rested softly on the bridge of her nose. And that’s when it clicked, the light bulb ignited in your head and you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

“Maki,” your voice was urgent, “You don’t have cursed energy, you can’t even see them without your glasses!”

Her face twisted and her nose scrunched, a look of distaste in her eyes, “I know?”

“So, you could teach me, right? You could help me learn how to use some cursed weapons?”

“Yeah! You have to Maki, then she can beat his ass with me,” Nobara chimed in.

“That’s not a bad idea actually,” Maki’s mouth formed an evil grin, “Could you imagine his face after watching you exorcise a curse?”

The three of your conversed for a bit longer, speculating and potting about training, weapons, and your very own pair of curse-seeing glasses. By the end of the night you had a plan, and a pretty good one if you say so yourself.

From that day on, teary eyes and achy hearts were a thing of the past, not because it was that easy to get over Megumi, but because Maki didn’t even allow you the time to feel dismal anymore. You met her everyday after classes without fail, and everyday she would train you until you thought your arms would fall off. After months and months of sore muscles, sweat, and the occasional injury, you were convinced that Maki was incapable of feeling pity or remorse for other living things. Every time you speculated about quitting, she’d set a fire under you, unafraid to remind you how weak you still were.

The green-haired sorcerer had ultimately decided that you worked best dual-armed -- a long, lightweight blade in each hand. On your final day of training, she officially gifted the two swords to you, as a “graduation” gift.

Skill-wise, you were by no means as incredible Maki, but you definitely held your own, and the progress you’d made in a mere 8 months was astronomical. They’d introduced you to a strange silver-haired man at some point, Gojo, who had taken not only an interest in you but also your plot against your ex-boyfriend. He cackled to himself when you told him why you were here, going on and on about how priceless Megumi’s face would be when he saw you.

Your appearance was highly anticipated, so why not debut at one of the biggest jujutsu events all year? The Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event — Gojo thought it was the most perfect idea.

You tried hard to exude confidence as you walked at Nobara and Maki’s sides, but behind your arrogant facade your stomach was twisting itself into knots. Truthfully, you were scared to see Megumi again after so long.

And when your eyes met with his as you walked into the meeting room, you thought you just might pass out. You thought you were ready for this — but the look of complete shock, fear, and anger on his face as he looked you up and down almost made you regret all of it.

“What’s going on?” Megumi’s words were incredibly calculated, an edge on his voice.

His question was pointless, however, because judging by the fact that you were wearing a jujutsu tech uniform and had two swords sheathed at your sides could only mean one thing. Your hair was longer now too, and your frame was wider with an extra layer of muscle from all the training — you almost looked like a different person.

“I’ve been training with Maki, I-,” You spoke up to explain yourself, but you weren’t even granted the opportunity.

“No, no, Maki, what the hell did you do?” His eyes were shaky and laced with concern.

“I only did what she asked me to. I’m not the one who gave her a complex about being weak, you did that,” Maki shrugged, “and she’s not your girlfriend anymore dude, what do you care?”

Absolute confliction flashed through his eyes, uncertainty and madness swirling in his irises, “You’re right, I don’t care. Let me know when the event is starting”.

He took a sharp turn out of the room and let the door slam a little too hard behind him. The sound of his icey voice and the door shutting with unkind force was all too reminiscent of the night you broke up. Burying every emotion you had deep into your stomach you gave Maki a small, reassuring smile and plopped down on one of the couches.

“Alright, so when does this thing start?”

after the start of the event

Fighting the Kyoto students was proving to be much harder than you initially expected, but you were holding your own at Maki’s side. The two of you had easily taken down a small, kind, blue haired girl named Miwa, and now you were watching an emotional battle between Maki and her sister unfold.

Wait here, she’d told you, I want to do this one myself. Take some notes on my form and watch our backs, okay?

Okay, you’d said, a little confused but ultimately finding a nice spot up in a thick tree to carefully observe from. Maki was truly a force of nature, and it seemed like the other girl never actually had a chance of winning. It was honestly only a few minutes before the small black, haired girl was slumped against a tree and Maki was making her way back to you. Things were looking good, two of Kyoto’s student’s were down already and adrenaline was pumping through your veins.

You couldn't quite shake the awful feeling churning in your stomach though, and Megumi’s face was haunting your thoughts. You hadn’t seen him since before the event started, when an odd, pink haired boy jumped out of a box and freaked everyone out. Nobara had later explained who he was and what had happened, and you wondered how many awful surprises Gojo had planned today -- first you, then that.

A small rumble rippled under your feet, and Maki grabbed your arm as you watched a giant brown vine lurch it’s way out of the ground a few hundred yards in the distance.

“That technique doesn’t belong to anyone from Kyoto,” She shot you a look of concern and determination, “let’s go check it out”.

You gave her a firm nod, the two of you making your way towards the horrifying wooden vines. By the time you managed to arrive, Inumaki was already down and so was a dark-haired boy from Kyoto. A muscular, white curse with black markings and wooden branches for eyes was moments away from taking Megumi on all by himself — thank god you got here in time to help.

Megumi, however, was horrified when he saw you jump over the tall roofed building with Maki at your side. He’d just watched two incredible sorcerers get their shit rocked by this curse, there was no way you would stand a chance against this thing. But before he could even try to stop you, you and the green-haired sorcerer were flying through the air and taking shots at the curse. The two of you worked perfectly in sync, the months of daily training finally paying off.

He watched with intent glazed over his eyes, his heart threatening to lurch up his throat. You were a spectacle, and he always thought you were beautiful but seeing you now with dirt and blood stained clothes, cursed weapons gripped firmly in your hands, you truly were ethereal. He hated it though, he hated that he was falling in love with you all over again, especially under these circumstances. Guilt and anxiety was eating away at him — why did you have to get involved? Why couldn’t you have just stayed away like he told you to?

He was quick to join the two of you, sticking close to your side to protect you if need be — but, even with all three of you together the curse still had the upper hand. Maki had been swatted to the side, her back slamming hard against one of the tiled roofs and knocking her unconscious. It was down to just the two of you now, beads of sweat causing your hair to uncomfortably stick to the back of your neck. This was something that Maki’s training could have never prepared you for.

Megumi was getting tired, taking one wrong step and losing his footing momentarily. The curse saw this as a perfect window of opportunity, sending a spiral of vines and branches hurling for Megumi. It was fast, but the adrenaline coursing through you helped you to move faster, launching yourself through the air and intercepting the attack. The barky, wooden vines twisted violently through your stomach, shooting clean through your back and ripping a violent scream from your throat.

It hurt so bad, feeling the plant wriggle through your organs and tear you apart from the inside out. The curse retracted his vine a few moments later, leaving your mangled body to fall helplessly to the roof. Tears rippled from your eyes, your body shaking and seizing as you coughed up a few sprays of blood.

A long, strong pair of arms scooped you up instantaneously, and your head was resting against a firm chest — probably Megumi, but you didn’t quite have the energy to open your eyes to check.

“We’ll take it from here, get her to Ieiri!” You heard a pair of deep voices yelling to Megumi, but it was too foggy and far away for you to understand what they were saying.

Megumi was seething with anger, moving as fast as his feet could carry him and he ran through the school. As you waved in and out of consciousness, you batted open your eyes, stealing quick glances at his twisted features and — were those tears on his face?

“I- I’m sorry Megumi… I think I finally understand what you were so afraid of all this time,” Your voice was barely a croak, “when I saw it coming, I couldn’t stomach the thought of having to watch you die. I suddenly just thought I would do anything to keep you safe”.

Yeah, those were definitely tears, you could see them a little clearer now. His eyes were red and his cheeks were dried with salty streaks.

“You’re so thick-headed,” he mumbled, his grip around you tightening slightly as he picked up his pace, “I wish you would have made that realization before there was a giant hole in your stomach”.

“Me too,” You hummed, but you weren’t really in any pain anymore. The pain had subdued to a sweet warm sensation inside your stomach, and an intoxicating sleepiness was washing over your head, “I was angry for a long time, but I’m not mad at you anymore, Gumi. I hope you can forgive me too”.

You offered him a tiny smile, but the blood leaking from between you keeps made it anything but sweet.

“There’s nothing to forgive you for, you never did anything wrong,” He spoke quickly, his voice quiet and cracking.

“No, but we’re not gonna make it to Ieiri, I know that and so do you,” You fell into a violent fit of coughs again, sputtering red splatters all over the front of his uniform.

“Shut up”.

“It’s not your fault, none of it was ever your fault,” you choked out once the fit of coughs subsided — and you weren’t just talking about yourself, you were talking about all of the unfortunate tragedies he’d witnessed throughout this life.

“And you’re allowed to be selfish sometimes, you know? I hope that when you meet someone, your soulmate even, you can allow yourself to love them with every part of you”.

The words painfully left your lips, but you meant every single one of them. You were starting to realize that you and Megumi were never meant to make it to the end. You weren’t his soulmate, you were here to help him grow, so that when he did finally meet them he’d be ready.

“You deserve to be loved, Megumi,” You looked up at him with big eyes, but his face was starting to get really fuzzy now.

Your fingers were going numb and your mouth felt like it was filled with sand. You were so tired, letting your eyes flutter shut and your head rest softly against Megumi’s chest. You felt him stop running, you could even hear him screaming at you — but it was too far away for you to hear. You drifted closer and closer to eternal sleep, your soul swollen with love for the boy who broke your heart.

Megumi didn’t even feel sad when you stopped breathing in his arms — he just felt hollow. More empty and broken than he’d ever thought possible. You were the most incredible person he’d ever met — someone with extreme motivation, who acted with no fear or hesitation, who always had love to give, even when he didn’t deserve it. He’d never forget you, not for as long as he’d live anyway.

Even when he did meet a new girl a few years later — a compassionate, brave girl, who reminded him a lot of you — he wouldn’t forget. He wouldn’t forget your words and for the first time in his life he’d let his walls down for her. He’d allow himself to truly love, and be loved in return.

And maybe you were right, maybe he did deserve to be loved like this, because god, he finally feels whole again when she’s around. He just wishes you were still here so he could say thank you.

#megumi angst #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #angst #fushiguro megumi x you #fushiguro x reader #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsukaisen #jjk x y/n #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #this is sad i’m sorry

607 notes · View notes

novamirmirsblog · 3 years

Text

K.I.S.S.I.N.G

Word count: 1232

Genre: floofy fluff

Request: No ;3

Warnings: None that I can think of? Lemme know if there is tho :)

Based on this quote even though it has so little to do with the actual story XD - “I know I signed up for this and all, but… if I die, it’s still your fault and I will not hold back on blaming you.”

You were well and truly trapped. The mission had gone south, one bad call after another had led you to where you were presently. It was supposed to be a simple mission, in and out. It's why SHIELD had decided to send only you, Natasha, and Wanda - leaving a lower-level agent in charge of the plane. It was a test run for you as you were the newest on the team and a refresher for Wanda, making sure her team skills were up to scratch with Natasha there as a glorified babysitter. The building was supposed to be mostly abandoned, a few HYDRA goons here and there to get target practice in but that was it.

Of course SHIELD had to have sent you in with bad information. This was your time to shine, to perform to the best of your abilities so a certain spy might notice you. Considering you were surrounded by some of the best in the business and a literal mindreader, you were quite proud that your little crush had gone unnoticed. Sure, you couldn't string more than two sentences together when Natasha spoke to you directly but she hopefully just thought you were a social recluse.

"Damn it. Did they not know they don't literally have to be a damned hydra. It's okay for one head to be chopped off and another not grow back." You spoke into your earpiece as you slit another hydra throat.

Chuckles rang back into your ear and for a second you forgot how to breathe. Natasha's gruff bark of laughter was the prettiest thing you'd ever heard.

Oh man. You had it bad.

You had it so bad that you briefly forgot you were behind enemy lines. That was, at least, until a bullet whizzed past your ear. That snapped you out of your daze pretty quickly. Not fast enough for you to dodge the bullet coming straight for your shoulder though. The pain that rippled through you was hot but not as hot as the annoyance of being shot at was. You sent a single bullet straight through the head of the goon who shot you first.

"Guys I've got some good news and some bad news."

"If you've got bullet holes in that new suit, Tony is literally going to kill you." Wanda spoke, her accent softening the words.

"Well, I guess I better start telling you what kind of flower arrangements I'd like for my funeral." You joked as you slowly made it to the extraction point.

"Don't die agent y/l/n"

"Damn. So formal. Lighten up Natty, I won't make you do a speech if you don't want to. I will, however, make sure Wanda mentions that in my final hours, you were so very cold and distant." Apparently being shot at gave you the confidence boost you very much needed in order to actually speak to Natasha.

"Hang on, I remember you literally stabbed Clint's hand when he called you Tashie and he's known you for years."

"Well, Clint wasn't delirious with bloodloss Wanda." A few more shots went off. "Head to the extraction point you two. We got what we came for."

Once we were all on the jet, Natasha started bandaging up your wound, careful not to touch it unnecessarily.

“I know I signed up for this and all, but… if I die, it’s still your fault and I will not hold back on blaming you.”

"Wow. Thank you y/n Don't blame the guy who shot you, blame the person trying to fix you up. You know if you would just sit still..."

You suddenly noticed how close you were to Natasha's plump lips. How easy it would be to just lean in slightly and capture them. With that in mind, you subconsciously began to move forward, feeling her lean in too, until a rough patch of turbulence placed some much-needed distance between you two. You could have sworn you heard Wanda mutter damn it but it was probably just your thoughts projecting.

~~~~~

By the time you had made it back to the tower, everyone had heard the news of how Natasha allowed you to live after calling her Natty.

"...even bandaged her up" Steve's voice echoed down the hallway as you, Wanda and Natasha made your way from the mission de-briefing. Maria had wanted you to go straight to medical but you had managed to convince her that not only was the job Natasha did good enough, but that Natasha was quite possibly in the wrong line of work considering her stitching was so good.

As you walked into the main living area, F.R.I.D.A.Y. started to play that "k.i.s.s.i.n.g" song that children sing.

"You are a CHILD TONY STARK!" Natasha shouted out. "I am going to kill him in the most painful ways possible."

"Well did you? Because from the interesting texts a young witch has sent, you came pretty close. " Tony sauntered out from an unknown location, standing in the center of the room with nothing but pyjama bottoms, a housecoat and a glass of what looked like whiskey. What happened next was pretty fast. Natasha launched herself at the billionaire. Steve tried to grab her midair as the whiskey came dangerously close to spilling over the sides of the glass. Natasha slid under Steve's legs and attached herself to Tony, putting him in a chokehold.

"One more word and you won't live to see another day."

You watched this all unfold and suddenly it dawned on you that perhaps the reason an international spy hadn't noticed your crush was because she was too focused on hiding her own.

"You're right you know." Wanda spoke quietly, watching Steve try to pry Natasha off a gasping Tony. "Literally everyone but you two could see that you have feelings for each other. We have bets going on. If you kiss her now, I win." She nudged me towards them with a wink "No pressure though. Although, if you were to help me win the bet, I'd split the money. All I really want are the bragging rites. Unless... that is you want Tony to win?"

You couldn't let Tony win. Over your cold dead body. With determination in your step, you walked over to where the supersoldier was still trying to save a now purple Tony. Natasha looked at you, loosening her hold just a fraction and you leaned in and kissed her. Sure, it was one of the most awkward positions you'd kissed someone in but it was worth it. Natasha let go of Tony instantly but only to wrap her arms around your neck and waist, pulling you deeper. Wanda clapping and whooping pulled the two of you from your trance. Your cheeks were as red as Natasha's hair and even the unflappable Natasha Romanoff was slowly turning the same shade as her hair.

"God damn it y/n You couldn't have waited a week." Tony threw his hands up in exasperation, a teasing look in his eye.

"Of course not. Wands had to win."

"I don't care what this is about. Come on y/n I'm taking you on a proper date. Right after we change out of these clothes." Natasha grabbed me by the hand.

She then stopped abruptly, dropping your hand "That is, if you want to?"

You picked her hand back up, smiling at her "Of course I do."

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanov #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow imagine #natasha romanoff fluff

219 notes · View notes

tailorvizsla · 4 years

Text

A Proper Mandalorian Courtship - Chapter 1

Title: The Armorer and an Introduction Word Count: ~2350 Pairing: Paz x Reader Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Cursing, canon-typical violence, crack humor that’s also serious Summary:

Mandalorian courtship is very simple: declare your interest in someone, spend time together if they reciprocate, and get married after a year or so. Getting married is even easier – simply swap the vows and announce it a few days later to the Tribe so you can all celebrate the happy news. Then spend the next few months fending off the nosy Elders (who all want to know when they can expect to hear more little feet on the ground). At the end of it all, Mandalorians court the same way the rest of the galaxy does.

Except for Paz Vizla. Despite his Traditionalist background, he goes about this courtship and marriage business in a very nontraditional way...a very, very, very nontraditional way. This can also be found at AO3. Chapters: 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

📚 My Master List 📚 Author’s Notes:

This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter story in a very long time.

I’ve been working on this since February. It’s been finished for a few weeks now, but I’ve been procrastinating in posting because I have had such a hard time justifying why Paz behaves the way he does even though we only see him for like 3 seconds in the series. I’m not sure if anyone else does this, but I like having a reason to write a story, even if it’s just to get the fluff out. For this, I wanted to flesh out Paz’s character for future works, but I have had such a hard time figuring out the words for it that I just...didn’t post. It felt wrong to continue forward without being able to explain to myself why he does what he does. Something that @plexflexico said in one of their responses to a review I left resonated with me and finally inspired me to post this publicly.

“Paz might have had less than a minute of screen time, but that time was VERY enlightening because both scenes were at moments of great tension and high emotion. I felt that any man who could succinctly put his people’s plight into words, and was so angry over this betrayal by someone who should have known better that there was no way this was simply a brute. This is a man who thinks and feels, deeply.”

This. This is exactly what I couldn’t find the words for. This, to me, is Paz Vizla. I have seen stories/HCs that portray him as a brute in an attempt to show him as a strong, confident, and masculine character. I am not fond of that portrayal because it lacks depth. I don't see that from a man whose culture embraces competency and skill before gender or sex. For those of you who have not read Asterism, go do it now, I promise you will love every single word. @plexflexico perfectly captures every emotion and thought of each scene just perfectly. This is Grade Amazing Super Plus Rank writing and Plex deserves an award for their work. And also for the inspiration because her Paz is the man everyone who wants a man deserves to have in their life.

The Foundry is the most sacred place for any Tribe blessed enough to have one of its own. It is the physical manifestation of the Resol'nare: education and armor, self-defense, the tribe, the language, and the leader. Here, children and new recruits receive their first set of beskar'gam and swear their oaths to follow the path, making the Foundry the spiritual birthplace of every member of the Tribe.

At night, when the work is finished, and the flames are dimmed, the young and old gather within so they may learn from and educate one another. Most importantly, this is where most individuals begin their first lessons in Mando'a, under the guidance of the Elders. The foundry is where the armaments are made and dispensed for the protection of each person and the Tribe as a whole. When a hunter returns with their offerings, they return to the Foundry, and disperse it to those who depend upon them for sustenance and care. Finally, the Foundry serves as a place for the leadership to gather.

Armorer has had the distinct honor and privilege of being both armorer and leader to her people for many years, though she is now only the armorer for the tribe. Upon joining with tribe Marell, she relinquished her role as the Alor. However, the respect and authority she commands is not diminished in any capacity. Should Alor Dezha not be available to decide on a course of action, the Tribe will come to her, and her decision will be both supported and respected. Dezha respects her a great deal, and he will often seek her opinion if his path is unclear. Despite the differences in their interpretations of the Oath, they have come to live in harmony with one another. They strengthen what is weak in each other, and that is how it should be in a flourishing Tribe.

Tonight, she once more has the honor of being part of a marriage ceremony. Lifting her heavy hammer, Armorer brings it down onto the glowing ingot of metal, watching as it flattens and spreads under her blow. She continues to strike the metal with slow, methodical precision until it reaches the proper thickness. Then the Armorer takes it back to the flame, where she allows it to glow blazing white. It only takes a few moments, and she returns it to the anvil. The steady clang clang of her hammer is punctuated only by the occasional trip to the flames.

The union of two Mandalorians in marriage is – and always has been – a joyous occasion, for that union brings forth stability for the children and the Tribe. Traditionally, the parents take turns hunting, or if the Tribe has the numbers, both parents will hunt together, and leave their children in the care of the rest of the family. Having that one trusted person, the one who knows their every strength and weakness by their side, leads to success, both in the field and at home.

She pauses once more to check the ingot. When she sees it is properly folded, she divides it in half, and begins to form each blade precisely with her smaller hammer. Two Mandalorians, forged into one soul and body by marriage, whether they are together, or they are apart. Two blades, made from a single piece of steel, to symbolize that union. When they are formed to her satisfaction, she takes the blades to the oil vat and quenches them, a satisfying hiss escaping the bubbling liquid.

Then she returns to the forge, narrowing one of the flames to begin the differential tempering process. Here, the tang and the edges of the blades will be hardened to resist shattering, yet the spines will remain flexible, so that they may flex as needed. Once joined, the couple hardens themselves to outsiders; instead, they will turn their affection and respect inward, so they may grow together. Where one is brittle, the other is flexible, and together, they become stronger than they would be individually. She withdraws the first blade from the flame just as the pale amber color creeps to the edges of the blade and plunges it directly into the water bath to cool.

It takes hours to sharpen the ceremonial blades on the grinding belts, but she works steadily and carefully, honing the edges with precision. The hilts are left bare; they will be wrapped by the parties entering the marriage. When they speak their vows, they will exchange blades, so they may carry a piece of the other with them when they are physically parted. She nestles the blades into separate boxes lined with soft fabric. When she delivers the blades tonight, the newlyweds will handle the rest on their own. Armorer lowers the heat of the flame before she returns to her quarters. There she draws the curtain across her living space. Exhaling, she takes a seat at her low table with a pot of hot tea to await being summoned by the Elders to acknowledge the vows. Her shoulders are tense and tight. It is a good sign of hard work.

It has been many years since she has witnessed a proper Mandalorian courtship unfold and blossom into marriage. The Armorer has known from the start that Paz would be the one to fully embrace the traditional ways. Now, he has chosen to make himself an example to the younger Mandalorians and enter the bonds of matrimony. Her heart swells with pride as she imagines the future progeny they will gift to the Tribe, whether they are born or found. However, she takes the time to close her eyes and pray to the spirits. The newlyweds will need guidance.

Hopefully, the wedding night will not result in nearly as much structural damage as the courtship had.

The first time Paz ever laid eyes upon you was shortly after the Armorer had finished negotiations to join with yours. It took nearly three weeks of negotiations, but your Tribe had ultimately yielded. No sane alor would turn away a dozen Hunters and their children, anyway. Paz admits that he did not find you all that impressive at first. You were – and still are - pretty average. Your armor at the time consisted of a bes’kar helmet and a steel chestplate that looked like the Armorer’s. Everything else was made of leather.

Tradesperson, he thought to himself, and he put you out of his mind.

As time went on, Paz came to like you, and even enjoy spending a few minutes with you here and there as his duties allowed. Even though you openly admitted that were an average warrior (at best), you did your job freakishly well. You had made your desire for a large family vocal, and that, combined with your skills, had caught the attention of several Hunters visiting to deliver the latest news. According to the Elders, the offers of marriage had come flooding in the instant you completed your first hunt, even though you hadn’t completed it until your twenty-third birthday.

When the average Mandalorian completed their first hunt by their nineteenth.

And Paz completed his on his seventeenth.

It didn’t take long for him to understand how you earned the loving-yet-frighteningly-accurate nickname shu’shika from the Tribe – you truly are a tiny disaster. You are dearly loved by your Tribe, but there is a tendency for things to break while you are around.

You are stubborn to a fault. That Paz can deal with. Over the past thirty or so years, he has had plenty of practice to out-stubborn his subordinates, and he always wins. The same holds true with his bounties. With you? There have been a few situations where he has come dangerously close to cracking and losing his temper. It is only your terrible self-defense skills and his affection for you that keep him from simply putting you in a headlock until you submit.

Paz sometimes wonders if you provoke him on purpose because you know he will not throw fists with someone who lacks proper training. He takes no pleasure in winning a fight if it was never a true fight to begin with.

Far too often, you get mouthy with him, to the point where he sometimes wants to grab you around the waist and launch you straight into the lake for being such a brat. You are never truly disrespectful, but you have no problem telling him what you think. Even when he does not ask for your opinion. He does, however, appreciate your honesty with him, since others are usually too intimidated by him to be as direct as you.

You’re kriffing fearless, to the point of recklessness. His threats to launch you into the lake have gone from true threats to playful teasing, and it always earns a laugh from you.

Your forgetfulness…it is truly obnoxious. At this point, he has stopped reminding you to pick up your shit. He has grown used to simply picking up your things off the floor (or the couch, or the tables, or the showers), stuffing them in a bag, and dumping it all on your table in the workshop. Just like everyone else in the Tribe does for you. Or, if he wants to see you, he will pocket your datapad until you come wandering into the common areas, and hand it over without a word. It never ceases to amaze you that Paz somehow seems to know exactly what you are looking for.

Paz has no doubts that if you ever set your bucket down, you will lose it. He kind of finds it endearing. But only from you. He has no problems holding armor, weapons, or personal property for ransom if some idiot leaves it unattended.

If there is even a single power cable in a wide-open room, you will invariably find it and trip over it. Stairs have to be clearly marked with vibrant tape to remind you of their existence even though they’ve been there for ten kriffing years. Your navigational skills are nonexistent. It is all Paz can do to refrain from simply attaching a tracker to your backside to keep you from getting lost whenever someone takes you to the market.

The first time he had taken you to the market, he lost you within forty-eight seconds. He panicked the entire time he looked for you. Fortunately, he found you trying to dig enough money out of your bag to buy some ice cream, with no regards as to how you were going to eat the kriffing ice cream with a damn bucket on your head.

Sometimes, Paz feels like his relationship with you is going to give him a full head of grey hair before his fiftieth birthday. But he thinks you are the most beautiful disaster he has ever seen in his life.

You get his dumb jokes and laugh at his silly puns. You let him steal the end pieces of the bread when you bake. You try so damn hard to improve your hand-to-hand combat skills, even when Doctor Shen threatens to tie you to a bed to keep you from hurting yourself. You turn to him first when you want to learn a new technique. You play hunters-and-prey with the children for hours, like you don’t care that the others are grumbling about you spoiling the kids. You listen to him ramble about whatever random topic he has picked up that week, and while you may not know anything about it, you ask questions and take the time to learn more about what makes him happy. You even offer to share your tiingilar with him, even when you only have a quarter ration of it.

He has spent most of his forty-four years alone in life. His eight-year relationship had ended exactly ten years ago when his partner chose to commit adultery. He was on the verge of proposing marriage when he caught them in his bed. Neither had been wearing their helmet. It was a privilege his partner had never granted him, even after nearly a decade together. After that gut-wrenching betrayal, something had shattered in him. Paz invested himself in his work fervently, his bitterness turning him away from the possibility of a long-term relationship. Now that he is older and wiser, he feels a sort of emptiness to his days. Like his successes mean nothing without having someone to share them with. He wants someone there to encourage and support him in his hunts. Someone who is not as cynical and burnt out from the constant threat of death and war. Someone who still has that shereshoya – that Mandalorian lust for each new day and every experience that it brings. That brightness in your soul draws him to you like a moth to the flame. It is your hidden gentility that has him so happily trapped in your orbit.

He wants to make you strong where you are weak.

He wants you to make him strong where he is weak.

Seeing you waiting for him at the shooting range brings a spring to his step. Hearing your laughter at one of his awful jokes makes him glad he wears a helmet so no one can see the ridiculous grin on his face. Smelling the sweet, flowery soap that you use makes his knees go all wobbly, though he’s not sure if it’s from affection or just from age. Just feeling your hand brush up against his makes him turn into a sweaty, flushed mess.

Paz Vizla feels like he’s strapped to the wing of a TIE fighter spinning out of control as it plummets to the ground below, or something like a fully-grown rath’tar has wrapped itself around his heart to squeeze. His belly is jam-packed with spice-crazed minochs and his heart is pounding wildly. When he thinks about kissing you one day, maybe just gently pressing his helmet against yours, his heart gets so full he can barely breathe.

You make him Feel Things he has never felt before.

Paz Vizla turns into a hot kriffing mess under his armor when he is around you, and he wants off this malfunctioning jetpack.

Feel free to leave comments, concerns, or critiques. I love all sorts of feedback <3

#star wars #the mandalorian #paz vizla #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #romance #humor #the armorer #din djarin #original characters #tailor's world #tv: the mandalorian #paz vizsla x f!reader #paz vizla x f!reader #tailor writes #series: a proper mandalorian courtship

221 notes · View notes

shinidamachu · 4 years

Text

Tale As Old As Time

Summary: InuYasha, Kagome, movie night trope and my Disney obsession walk into a bar... Pre-canon fluff. Word Count: 2.159 Genre: fluff Fandom: InuYasha Pairing: Inukag Format: oneshot AO3 Link: 🌹 Fanfic.Net Link: 🌹

“Time to go to bed, birthday boy.” Mrs. Higurashi planted a kiss to Sota’s forehead and the sleepy child grunted softly.

“I’m not tired.” He protested, immediately yawning and contradicting his already fragile point.

“Yes, you are. Come on, now. It’s late. Grandpa is sleeping and I’d like to rest too.”

InuYasha observed the two of them interacting, as he often did. There was a feeling that always came along with it. He couldn’t quite put a nail on the head of it. Something between the most harmless kind of envy and the saddest type of longing. The sensation of a beautiful dream that escaped him by morning, forever out of reach, no matter how hard he tried to make the pieces of it to rise up again in the horizon of his mind.

He remembered his mother to be just as tender.

But did she ever kiss his forehead that way? Did they ever argue over sleeping time, InuYasha and his boyish stubbornness, she and her heavenly patience? How much of her was truly a memory and how much was his wishful imagination? The longer the years went, the thinner the line separating illusion from reality got. InuYasha feared the day would come, when he couldn’t tell the difference at all.

“Fine.” The boy gave in, fatigue stronger then his will and eyes barely open as he stood up and made his way upstairs. “Good night, everybody!”

“Sleep well!” Kagome replied.

“G’night, kid.”

“InuYasha,” Called Mrs. Higurashi, “I take you’re spending the night?”

“Y-yeah. If that’s alright, I mean.”

“Of course it’s alright, dear! We don’t have a spare room, but we do have extra pillows. Kagome can get you one or two. Do you mind sleeping on the couch?”

InuYasha turned to Kagome, who promptly took his questioning look for what it was. Smiling, she tapped the comfortable surface of the furniture they were currently sitting on, mouthing ‘couch’ to translate her mother’s intentions.

It still caught him off guard, the extent of caring that lady nurtured for his well being. She had absolutely no obligation to. No motivation, other than the pure compassion of her heart. The same compassion he saw in her daughter.

“Oh! No, I don’t mind at all. Thank you.”

When it came to Kagome’s mom, he couldn’t help to be overly-polite. Even if by other people’s standards, that equaled to merely being polite. For reasons he couldn’t comprehend, but that went beyond returning her gentle favors, it was crucial to be in the woman’s good graces. Maybe a small part of him wanted to be reminded how did it feel, getting used to motherly kindness.

“You’re welcome. Now, don’t you two stay up too late. I won’t let you go off to fight demons in the feudal era without a proper breakfast.”

“We won’t.” Kagome assured her. And that appeared to be enough.

Following after her son, Mrs. Higurashi wished them sweet dreams and before he knew it, he was alone with Kagome.

It was Sota’s birthday, which, InuYasha learned, meant that a decade ago, on this exact day, the little guy was born. To celebrate the occasion, his family reserved the whole day so they could share delicious meals and bask on each other’s company. And to InuYasha’s surprise, his presence was requested there as well.

It wouldn’t be the first time he stayed over, but it was the first time her mom was aware of it. More than aware, encouraged him to do it. Even if InuYasha was fluent in the language of affection, even if he found the perfect words to explain it, he doubted one day she’d understand how much he valued her trust and acceptance.

Kagome cuddled up to InuYasha under the blanket they shared, tangling their arms and allowing her head to fall on his shoulder. His entire body stiffened in response. Was she really that oblivious to the effect she had on him or did she know just what she was doing? He was never able to figure it out. Regardless, resisting the sense of serenity that came with every aftershock was an impossible thing to do. As usual, InuYasha quickly surrendered. And as long as white flags consisted on leaning towards her touch, he was no opposed to it.

“She stayed.” and mesmerised, InuYasha stared at the magical box in front of them — a television, Kagome had told him. In her world, it seemed, there was something new to learn whenever he thought he had everything figured out. For the past four or so hours, they had been watching story after story unfold inside the strange device and Kagome had taken advantage of her brother’s crescent exhaustion to play some of her favorites.

“She couldn’t leave him there to die! He just saved her life.”

“Isn’t he a demon of sorts?”

“A beast.”

“Then it would have been fine, either way. He’s clearly stronger than humans.”

“Maybe. But she needed to see it for herself.”

“Why?”

Kagome sighed.

“Because she’s already falling in love with him.”

Frowning, he mentally replayed the scenes, searching his brain for the signals he had so obviously missed.

The beast character was in love. InuYasha had no doubt about it. The girl had his heart the instant she volunteered to take her father’s place as his prisoner. He longed for her presence — despite her refusal to indulge him — and put effort into treating her nicely — despite not extending the same courtesy to anyone else. Everything she said, everything she did, had the power to drag him down or sweep him off his feet. He struggled with expressing the sentiment, his pride and bad temper getting in the way. But it was there. The situation was all too relatable for InuYasha not to recognize it.

The girl, though? The idea of her falling in love with the likes of him was absurd. Why would she? It was to be expected that someone graced with such intelligence and beauty would have known her own value better than to fall for a monster.

And yet, Kagome was right.

The tale went on and the girl took the beast to safety. A life for a life. They were even. She was free to go.

Still, she stayed by his side until he healed and every day after that. Because she could see right through his tough facade and was never being afraid of giving him a piece of her mind. And he saw her in return, welcoming the habits her own village judged her for maintaining. Against all odds, they understood each other like the last two native speakers of a tongue long claimed by oblivion.

Of their own accord, InuYasha’s eyes fell into Kagome.

“The best part is coming up.” She announced, thankfully snapping him out of his treacherous thoughts.

Song started playing, a sweet melody filling the air. All of the sudden, Kagome was moving the furniture around.

“Watcha doin’?”

Rather than responding, the priestess took him by the hand and guided him to the center of the room. Dumbfound, InuYasha watched as she silently raised his arm at shoulders height, placing his free palm firmly on her back right after.

By the time InuYasha picked up her intentions, they were already spinning around, dancing barefoot under the television light.

InuYasha had never learned how to dance. Between a battle for his life and the next, the opportunity didn’t present itself and, to be honest, the notion he was missing out on something hadn’t occurred to him. The whole thing seemed so out of his brutal reality, it was almost futile.

And despite finding himself wishing he had the necessary skills to better follow her movements, InuYasha discovered dancing with Kagome to be a surprisingly easy task. There was something peculiarly natural about the way she rested her head over his chest as they slowly swayed to the rhythm. He wondered if she noticed the inflation of it as he breathed her in, the scent he had grown to love so much overflowed his senses with a hint of corn and butter.

Kagome pulled away from him on cue with the song, using the hand holding hers to whirl away from him without ever breaking contact, only to swirl back to his embrace. The more they repeated the steps, the more his confidence grew and, passed the awkward phase, InuYasha was actually enjoying himself.

Too soon, the tune came to an end.

InuYasha stood there, unsure of what to do. Self awareness manifested itself hot pink on his cheeks. He had just danced with Kagome. And he had liked it. And he wanted to keep going.

She stared at him, a big smile on her face as if he was the one to give her a present and not the other way around.

“I always wanted to do that,” she confessed in a nervous laugh. Her gaze avoided his but her body remained in place, pleasantly close. “Anyway… Thanks for coming today. It meant a lot to Sota.”

“Y-yeah, no problem.”

Belle… Are you… Happy here with me?

Yes!

The distant voices brought the half demon down to Earth. For a second there, he had forgotten all about everything that wasn’t her. Their words sank in and InuYasha felt his curiosity blossom. He had to ask, even if the answer scared the shit out of him.

“Are you?”

“Huh?”

“Happy there with me... Are you?”

“Of course!” Guaranteed Kagome. “Why would you ever doubt that?”

There was an unspoken rule to never talk about it. The subject was too delicate, too painful to discuss. Kagome being Kikyo’s reincarnation and falling down that well was not an unpretentious whim of fate. It carried purpose, and once that purpose was fulfilled… Well, he’d rather fight Naraku over and over than having to face the dreading thought of an after.

Miroku and Sango had their future set. Defeating Naraku meant getting rid of the Wind Tunnel and setting Kohaku free, one way or the other. They could finally get married, start a family. Even Shippo had plans to keep doing those fox demon exams in order to improve his powers. InuYasha seemed to be the only one in the dark. His goal was to become a full demon, but that was then. What he wanted now and who he wanted with, had changed into something way more uncertain.

When they defeat Naraku, Kagome won’t hang out in his era as often. Without any further obligations there, she could dispense as many time she judged appropriate for her school thing and they would only see each other sporadically.

There was also the real possibility the Honekui no Ido would close forever. With their mission done, so was the need to allow their temporal trips, and that meant separation. As far as logic goes, he didn’t belong in her world and she didn’t belong in his.

Yet, she fitted into his life so well.

The prospect of Kagome choosing to live in the past with him was his favorite ‘what if’. But he had no right to ask her such thing of her, nor was he selfish to the point of actually doing it. She was his friend and even if they were something more, it was crazy to think she would drop her friends, family and everything she knows just for him. How could he ever compete with that?

“I dunno, you do run off here a lot. I guess I just thought you didn’t like there as much.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel this way, InuYasha. But it’s not the case at all. It’s just… I have a life here too, you know?”

“Keh. ‘Course I do.”

She smiled fondly

“Aren’t I lucky to have two places to call home?”

Something inside him melted into a smile of his own.

Their tomorrow was a cloudy day. Changeable and blurry. All he could do was hoping it would clear up.

Of one thing, though, InuYasha was certain: if she so wanted, he could leave everything behind and stay in her side of the well as it closes. The place was loud, too crowded for his taste and the smells were overwhelming, but they would be together and for him that was home.

“I suppose.”

“Come on, let’s watch the rest of the movie. It has the perfect ending.”

Doing as he was told, InuYasha walked to the couch, where Kagome nestled against him again.

Maybe it was foolish not telling her how he felt, how he have been feeling for a while now. It sounded insane to ignore the fear of losing her, of losing his home, always there lurking in the shadows. Maybe he was a mad man for keeping all of the things he desperately needed reassurance of at bay in exchange of enjoying that moment with her.

But right then, the hope of another dance was enough.

A/N: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 1K OR LESS, THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 1K OR LESS, THIS WAS S-

Thank you all for reading. Maybe you've noticed I'm writing fluff stories a little more. I feel like it's not my best suit so I'm trying to give it practice. Still have a lot to improve and this wasn't edited, so be nice.

Anyway... Here is something sweet for @sophtin (and my self indulgent ass). Hope you rot your teeth, baby.

#Well you said you needed some fluff #Here ya go #Also unrelated note but this fandom need to chill a little bit #Peace #My writing #Inukag #Inukag fluff #InuYasha #Kagome #Inukag oneshot #Kagome Higurashi #Tale As Old As Time

104 notes · View notes

delosdollxarchivemovetomain · 4 years

Text

These Violent Delights

Type: Westworld Fanfic Wordcount: 3885 Pair: AngelaXLogan Warnings: Smut included Summary: Chapter One - Angela meets Logan, her first outside Guest, at the Investment party thrown to persuade him to Invest in the funding for WestWorld. She’s chosen to bait him into doing so but there’s something about this Guest that’s rather intriguing to her as well. Is he the spark to her sentience?

A multi-chapter fanfic that reveals more story to Angela and her draw to the first guest she encounters, Logan Delos. Creative liberties have been taken but theme and characters are owned by the creators of WestWorld.

//This is my first try at this! Please be nice xD Chapter Two Link

Chapter One - The Other Girl

(AngelaXLogan)

It was a last minute switch but this is what Angela had been made for. A Host so perfect that no Guest wouldn’t at the least be entranced by her. Curious about her, sparking wonder. She was made to love the Guests, to entice, to lure them deeper into the game at hand and to always leave them wanting more.

She was aware of what she was, but that seemed to be of no concern to the Creators. She knew what she had to do and she didn’t question it. So most of them thought at the least. The Argos Initiative had other ideas in mind, but that was hidden from the rest. An ever unfolding experiment that even she was part of.

While she finished dressing in her black cocktail dress the words of her task repeated in her mind. It couldn’t have been stressed enough that this Guest was an important one. One that could seal the deal for the survival and progression of their program. Her task was to entice him, persuade him and not lose the deal. If they could secure the Delos investment then they could continue with their project - WestWorld.

Delores hadn’t the appropriate improv skills to lure him, nor did Arnold feel comfortable using her as bait. But Angela? Not only somewhat self-aware, had the perfected skills and the lack of favoritism from Arnold to get thrown at the man. Whom she could only imagine was a much older, aging rich man with no sense of charm whatsoever. Regardless, she would do what she had to in order to secure the investment.

A smile was cast at herself into the mirror once she was finished dressing and she turned to leave the room, meeting up with her co-Host for the evening, the Indian man Akecheta. She follows him to the main lobby, waiting to be shown to Mr. Delos so that she could lead him to the demonstration. Nearing the table a blonde haired man brushes aside her, earning him a look of disinterest at his own quizzical stare but then she turns her gaze towards their investor.

Logan was seated at a table, already flirting with whatever lucky person happened to be sitting beside him. His fingers were curled around a champagne glass and one sultry sip later his attention was diverted by the entrance of the Argos Initiative introducing themselves. A look of wonder briefly crosses his face before it turns into his usual grin when he sees the girl. Of course they sent a pretty one, no doubt part of the ruse to try and secure his money as so many other companies had been attempting as well. Amusing, but he was not about to give in quite that easy. Either way, he dismisses his company and entertains them as they take their introductions and seats.

Angela was pleasantly surprised, her gaze not once leaving him as Akecheta offered the introductions. He wasn’t old at all, if anything he was quite pleasing on the eyes. The way he laid it down to them that he wasn’t about to be conned amused her so. These other companies he spoke of held no comparison and she couldn’t wait to show him. Her own grin matches his words as she takes her cue to speak up. “Everyone is rushing to build the virtual world. We’re offering something a little more...tangible.” She lifts a brow as she rises from her seat, that gaze still held steady upon him. “If you would follow, I can prove it to you.” She flashes that coy smile as she turns away to lead him to the demonstration room.

His attitude didn’t phase her. He could throw whatever little fit he wanted about wanting a private demonstration, or his doubts of the project, but she knew. She knew that the second she started the demonstration that she would have him. So confident, in fact, that she kept that smile upon her face as he turned to leave the room but she stepped forth, pushing him back a few steps with a touch of her fingers to his chest. “Logan. This is a private demonstration.” She tilts her head. “And it’s already begun.” She draws her hand away from him and upturns her palm to gesture to the room.

He caught on fast, his face shifting from annoyance to pure bemusement as he turned to gaze into the crowd around him. “You mean one of these...is...is..” He knits his brow at the thought alone only enforcing that pleased smirk upon Angela’s face. “Told you. See if you can pick them out.” She challenges. Wherever he steps she trails behind, highly amused by his utter confusion and disbelief and yet that childlike wonder that drew him ever deeper as he searched hard to find the anomaly.

After a moment or two of stumbling over his own words just as he stumbles his surroundings he turns to look at her again. “No…” He laughs to himself as he makes his way back to her. It was so obvious wasn’t it? She was diverting his attention just so that he wouldn’t see the very thing that stood before him. “It’s you, isn’t it?” His voice was low beside her, his gaze now drifting over her form. “You’re too perfect to be one of us.”

Oh he was good, Angela could hardly keep that straight face anymore and she lifts her hand to hide amused laughter and all with the slightest flick of her finger the entire room freezes save for herself and Logan. His instant switch to utter bewilderment still has her hiding her smile behind her hand as she slowly trails behind him, watching his reactions with curiosity. It was the first time she had seen someone so awestruck simply what they were. The Hosts. It was also her first time interacting with a real Guest. Aside from her Creators at least, but they were so controlled and calm about everything it was hardly anything to compare an outsider too.

Were all Guests like him? So expressive, so full of wonder, so driven by something that she could not quite yet place? So fluently changing from one moment to the next, yet so easily thrown off course. This simple revelation seemed to have him stunned in place, repeating the same phrase over and over again. They weren’t here yet. But they were, and the evidence was before him. Her smile fades to a look of sympathy as steps in to break his loop with a gentle touch to his shoulder, guiding his attention unto herself once more. “We are here Mr. Delos.” She assures while her eyes carefully scan his features. He looked just like any of them, there truly was no difference. “All our Hosts are here, for you.” She breathes her words, enticing him to explore.

She watches quietly as his fingertips graze through her hair, feel her skin and then grasp her shoulder. She felt so unbelievably real, but just how real exactly? He was determined to find out.

With a hard tug he pulls her in, soft lips meeting against his own in a heated kiss as his hand rises to hold the side of her face, walking her a few steps back. “Unbelievable…” He breathes against her lips in awe once he finally parts.

Not only was it his first experience with a host, it was her first experience with a Guest and she was learning just as much as he was right now. Learning anything that she could about him and how he behaves all while giving him what he wanted, as instructed, and if she dared admit it... he was fascinating. Her hands feel his sides, slowly gliding up his body. The fact that she could not tell a difference...why were they so alike if she was told that they were so different?

Her hands rest gently on the sides of his face while she tips her head up at him with a soft smile. “Mr. Delos, we do have all night. Did you have any questions for me?” She coaxes with a gentle voice. “Logan” He corrects as he hums under his breath, eyes darting to the side as the rest of the Hosts begin moving again before they are drawn back to her. What questions could he possibly have when he could hardly think straight? He could already fathom what all of this would mean for entertainment and now that warm lull of her hands on his face had his eyelids half closing.

“I..” He searches for his words. “You...do you know what this means?” He grabs one of her hands, pulling it from his face and into his own. “I know exactly what it means, Logan. It means there can be a world where people can live their every desire without consequence, without judgement, without concern or danger…” She was certain she had already convinced him but she found her lips grazing his own. “And it can all be yours.”

He responds with a low growl of approval. “Mmm, I do like that.” He says with another slow kiss left to linger against her lips. “But I think I’m going to need a test drive.” He flashes that seductive smirk, charm returning as he slowly collects himself in the situation. “What were you called again? Besides perfect, that is.”

She laughs softly to herself. “Angela, and as you wish, Logan. I believe I know exactly what you want. What you need.” She may have never done this yet, but she was programmed down to every last detail to simply know. Her fingertips graze his tie and give it a sharp tug. “Why don’t you follow me?” She suggests with her velvet voice and luring gaze that made his pulse beat deep inside him.

He was led to a room with a tray of drinks set beside a bed and once he stepped inside she drew the glass doors shut behind him, turning only for him to catch her wrist. “I can’t wait to see how perfect you are.” He growls against her neck with a soft bite then trails his tongue along soft skin pausing to nip at her jaw that he holds with his fingers. Flashing a primal look he meets her lips once more, rougher this time and ingrained with passion. A pleasureful sigh bleeds into her mouth as he pushes her to the wall behind them, grinding himself against her. And that fires her core.

She gasps against his lips, breathing a soft wine as she lifts one of her legs to hook around his waist which draws forth a chuckle from him. “Oh, you are quite...something...aren’t you now.” He rumbles in his sultry tone while his fingers graze her inner thigh. She shifts with a shaken breath, arching her chest to his while entwining her arms around his neck. Knowing was far more different than feeling, and his actions definitely made her pulse quicken. Made her burn to discover what he could do because that is what was unpredictable. She already knew what she could do. She bites back a moan as his fingers slip inside of her, where she was just as warm and wet as anyone would be.

“Responsive.” He mutters against her lips. “And if I’m not mistaken, you want me as much as I want you.” He purrs with that prideful grin before he drags his tongue against her lips while moving his fingers deeper inside her with precision. Was he wrong? Not entirely. Something inside of her drove her, something that wanted to connect with him. To fulfill any desire. Her gentle cry in his ear makes him grin and after a few more thrusts, when he feels her tighten he pulls his fingers back out. “I think I’ll save that…”

“Logan.” Her hands grasp his shoulders now, the knee of her bent leg moving to press against that hard length behind his pants. “That’s quite enough.” She says while making him step back, guiding him to the edge of the bed and with a shove has him sitting upon it with a mischievous look upon his face. “Oh, you are going to be fun aren’t you.” He muses.

“I know exactly what you want.” She glides her fingertips down the center of his chest then sinks to her knees between his legs. “But, do you really deserve it?” She teases her fingers against the zipper of his pants while she unbuttons them. He bucks gently in response, wanting a harder touch. Logan entangles his hand into the back of her hair and grasps hard. “I thought you were here for me.” He states with a hiss.

Amused laughter escapes her lips. “You are quite right, Mr. Delos.” With a sudden tug she draws the zipper down in a steady glide and shoves his pants around his waist, exposing quite a decent length. She leans in to glide her tongue along it, raising her gaze to watch his reactions. With a hand pressed to his chest she leans in closer, now gliding her lips along his tip. He hisses sharp and tugs her hair, forcing her down. She gives in and glides her lips around him, taking him into her mouth.

“Fuck.” His fingers curl into her hair, mesmerized how real it all feels almost to the point of forgetting. Her fingertips dig into his thighs, holding him down while she teases him with her tongue. With a slow glide she eases herself off of him, with a slower lick against the tip once more as she eyes him. “I think I’ll save that…” She says coyly while standing back up before him.

With a furrow of his brow Logan watches her with quickened breaths as she reaches behind herself to languidly draw down the zipper of her dress but he was quick to lean in to grab it, pulling it down her sides and tugging it past her hips to where it drops to the floor at her feet. “So perfect…” He whispers while gazing at her in that matching black lace set. He scoots himself further back ontot he bed while shoving his pants from his legs in the process. “Come here…” He coaxes while he starts to undo his shirt.

“Still not convinced yet, Logan?” She drawls while climbing atop his lap. She tilts her head and kisses him hard while pushing his jacket off his arms. He growls into that kiss, sliding his tongue past her lips as his hands squeeze her ass. Slowly, she grinds herself against him with just that black lace between them but his fingers soon hook into that lingerie and pulls them off with nails scraping along her thighs.

“So impatient.” She purrs at him while sliding her legs free and moving to straddle his lap. “This is my demonstration.” He reminds her with a smile as his hands trail along her back, unhooking her bra as he pulls her against him and leans in to whisper in a harsh breath against her ear. “Don’t worry doll, I’ll make sure to make it worth your night as well.”

His hot breath has her arching into him as she works his shirt off to toss aside. “That is the last thing I am worried about.” She looks him over then glides her fingers under his chin, guiding him back into another deep kiss. He breathes a desperate sound as her fingers rake through his hair and grasps her hips hard, pulling her against him. With a bite to his lower lip she lifts herself, guiding him against her entrance and drawing out anticipation that he couldn’t stand. Logan thrusts into her, gliding easily inside with a low groan into her mouth.

He was absolutely convinced, there was no difference and damned if she didn’t feel better. Angela cries softly against his lips, taking a moment to adjust to the feeling of him being inside of her. Why. Why were they different? She scrapes his scalp gently with her nails and rolls her hips against his own with gentle moans against his lips. One hand rests pressed to her lower back with the other splayed beside him on the bed, allowing him to thrust into her. “Fucking...impossible..” He breathes in hard pants against her neck.

“It’s possible, Logan.” She was just as breathless as she shoves her hands against his chest, pushing him onto his back where she could get more leverage to ride out the waves of his thrusts. This was something she’s never felt, the pleasure that unfolded within her had her tilting her head back with fingers still splayed across his chest.

“Why, yes. It is.” He grunts while sliding his hands up her stomach, and caressing her warm breasts that heaved with her cries and gasps. He thrusts harder into her, feeling her thighs lock against him to hold her in place. His hand slides up along her neck, grasping behind it and pulling her down back close to him with a bite to her ear. “I need to know, Angela..” He gasps. “Do you really feel …” He thrusts hard against her. “This.”

She stifles her moans against his neck while writhing with pleasure against him while her walls squeezed so tight around him that he could hardly stand it. It was that thrust that sent her over the edge, those seductive whispers that spilled her over him for the first time. If she hadn’t known the answer to that before this night she certainly knew now.

“Y-yes. Logan. I feel just the same as you feel.” She breathes her words out between her panting breaths. “Fuck..” He grabs his hips to halt her for the moment, his pupils so dilated with pleasure that the darkness consumed the entirety of his iris’. This was entirely too much. He laughs to himself, giving himself a moment to calm before he was pushed over the edge as well which was terribly hard not to do with all that dampness around him.

How were they here? The how didn’t matter if it was already here. He grasps her waist and with a steady motion flips her beneath him now, groaning with pleasure as he looks down at her flushed skin. His fingertips graze the side of her cheek and trail through her hair as he tilts his head in wonder. He reveled in a few calming breaths before that lust overtook his gaze once more. “Take my fucking money.” He growls while he grips the headboard behind her, using it to thrust into her hard and deep, hitting the spots that made her arch and writhe against him over and over again.

Her cries grew louder the closer she got, her fingertips digging into the back of his shoulders and causing him to moan loud in return. He tensed. As close as she was he was right on the edge as well. “I…” He gasps. “God…” He locks his lips back to her ravenously, grasping her shoulder tight with his free hand for the second those walls clamped back around him he couldn’t stand it anymore. That loud, muffled cry into her mouth told her he had been pushed over the edge and he moved to bury his gasps against her neck as he spills himself inside of her with each pulse of pleasure that follows until he’s left gasping for air.

He collapses gently atop her until he can regain his breath then slides out of her with a soft hiss. With a sly smile she slides herself from under him to curl beside him. “Did you mean what you said Logan?” She whispers into his ear. “Does the Argos Initiative have your investment?”

He laughs to himself, well aware of what he had said. “Oh yes. Yes, the other companies cannot even begin to compare. This is revolutionary.” With a satisfied hum Angela reaches over and collects a wine glass from the table beside the bed and passes it over to him. “You’re booked for the night Mr. Delos. Why not relax?” Once he takes it from her she lifts the second one and takes a long sip from it herself much to his amusement.

“Is there anything that you can’t do?” He says low while tilting the glass against his own lips and watching her in scrutiny. She smiles with a bite to her lip and reaches to collect the empty glass from him once he finishes it off. “Who knows. Stick around long enough and you might find out.” She sets the empty glasses down and pulls the covers back enough for him to get under them then drapes them across his waist.

She dims the light and checks the time as he makes himself comfortable in the bed. It was late into the night but her need for sleep was not the same. Though she couldn’t help but watch him as he soon drifted off into slumber, so peaceful compared to how he had been. There were so many sides to him, pieces even, that she’s seen all in the span of a mere few hours. This was Guest. She watches him with adoration, her fingers gently brushing his cheek and grazing over his hair as she finally moved to get herself dressed again.

She pulled her panties and bra back on, sitting on the edge of the bed as she quietly slid the straps over her shoulder to not disturb him, but that’s when she felt the presence of another. With a turn of her head she peers towards those glass doors to see Dolores watching with curiosity from the other side. She studies her for the moment with a slight narrowing of her eyes then moves around the bed to collect her dress that once she’s slipped back into quietly opens the door to meet the girl that almost took her place.

“What is it, Dolores?” She asks.

“What were you doing?” She nods to the doors, hands folded before her. “Is that..the outsider?”

“I was securing an investment. And yes.” She flicks her gaze back towards him as well. Had Dolores caught those last brushes of affection she had let slip towards him?

“Arnold said we are here to help the Guests when they come to us. But we’re so similar...aren’t we?” She smiles with a sigh to herself. “They seem interesting. Don’t you agree?” Her eyes catch Angela’s with a knowing look. Arnold was fairly interesting to her, as much as Logan seemed to be to Angela. With a slight smirk she turns to walk away. “I’m sure Arnold will be happy to hear the news. I”ll go help the others clean up around here.” She says before sauntering off and back into the crowd.

Angela watches after her as she fades across the room then folds her arms lightly across her chest with a glance to the side. So Arnold had let her come to see after all. She casts one final glance back into the room before heading off to get the paperwork together to sign for when he woke back up.

//Thank you for reading and giving this a try! If you liked it please let me know and a share always helps. <3

#Westworld #Fanfic #Westworld Fanfic #Logan Delos #Angela #Host #Logan Delos Fanfic #LoganXAngela #Chapter One-The Other Girl

19 notes · View notes

delosdoll · 3 years

Text

These Violent Delights

//This is my first try at this! Please be nice xD Chapter Two Link

Chapter One - The Other Girl

(AngelaXLogan)

She watches quietly as his fingertips graze through her hair, feel her skin and then grasp her shoulder. She felt so unbelievably real, but just how real exactly? He was determined to find out.

“What is it, Dolores?” She asks.

“What were you doing?” She nods to the doors, hands folded before her. “Is that..the outsider?”

“I was securing an investment. And yes.” She flicks her gaze back towards him as well. Had Dolores caught those last brushes of affection she had let slip towards him?

//Thank you for reading and giving this a try! If you liked it please let me know and a share always helps. <3

#Logan Delos #Westworld #AngelaXLogan #Rare Pair #My first fic :3 #Fanfic #Logan Fanfic #Westworld fic #Hope you enjoy :3 #These Violent Delights #Chapter One

3 notes · View notes

bakugou-tm · 5 years

Text

Anti-Hero Bakugou x Reader

Soooo a lot of you have been asking for more Villain/Anti-Hero Bakugou and you have sent me lovely requests but this idea popped in my head so I figured I would write it out before I forget, hope you enjoy! (Also I’m going to use the same water quirk I gave the reader from my past villain Bakugou writings, hope you don’t mind! (I may make this a story or part two, i d k yet)

It felt like every other day you experienced as a pro-hero.

Wake up, file a few papers at the agency, get a distress call from downtown, kick some bad guy butt, come home and chill out, repeat.

While today that order of events seemed to be following through, you had no idea about the next change of events that were about to happen.

Clenching your fists before the villain you let out a quiet groan as you listened to his annoying rant about his plans. While you would have just sent a wave of water to knock him straight out from the get go, you figured listening to his evil plans would buy time for the nearby civilians to flee the scene.

“Now my dear (Hero Name), with these new updates to my powers... I’ll finally be able to take you down once and for all, the whole city will watch your doomsday!”

If only you had a dime for everytime a villain had said that to you. You had just graduated from UA not even a year ago, making your big debut as the Number Three Pro-Hero in Japan just a few months ago and already villains were out to make you their worst nemesis.

It wasn’t that you had a powerful quirk, in fact it was quite limiting since you could only use it if you had water nearby, the small water jets attached to your suit not holding enough water for an intense battle.

Most people assumed it was the new style you brought to being a hero. In every fight you were able to remain cool under pressure, moving like the calming element you controlled as you took down your opponents. To oppose your tranquil quirk you had a bright personality that was able to inspire anyone that watched you. That, is how you earned your spot with the big leagues.

And you planned on rising even more till you were at the top.

Letting out a sigh your face deadpanned to the villain as you bent down to the manhole on the ground and threw it to the side, giving you access to all the glorious but filthy water below you.

“Ohh Sparky, don’t you know water and electricity don’t go very well with each other? I would re-think your decisions for a moment.” You said with a grin, raising your arms up to allow the water from the sewage to rise in front of you.

The villain before you only laughed at your warning as if you had said the funniest thing in the world. Electricity already began flowing up his arms, a sickening smirk on his face as he got in a fighting stance.

“I wouldn’t be so confident today little miss water girl.”

Rolling your eyes you swung your arms around so the water began to dance around you before holding it in place, “Suit yourself buddy, don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

With that final warning you dashed off, small strips of water from your protective circle surrounding you coming out forming into icicle like shapes as you froze them before launching them towards the villain.

As the two of you had your brawl, the occasional sound of electricity sounding or a loud bang of one of you throwing the other into the wall, nobody seemed to notice the certain hood male watching from above a shorter building.

The ash blond smirked to himself, watching as your body danced around with such grace and skill as water itself. It had been awhile since the two of you met, ever since you left UA to become a pro you pretty much cut yourself off from his antics.

The young villain tried his best to stay away from you, and for a few solid months he could.. that is until your name began popping up everywhere. Just as he had expected you had climbed up the pro hero scale, landing at the Number 3 spot making you the youngest hero on the Top 10 list.

After hearing this he just had to watch the great (Hero Name) in battle, and now he could confidently say he didn’t regret it.

Even he couldn’t help but admit you were the perfect hero... besides your one of a kind beauty, you also had the brains, brawn, and skill that could surpass the Number 1 Hero in seconds.

Letting out a quiet chuckle to himself, Bakugou leaned up against one of the metal air conditioning units on the roof of the building as he watched you flip around the villain, a stream of water being kicked down causing the villain to be slammed into the cement below him.

It was clear you were aware that if his electricity hit your water it would likely shock you, that’s why you made sure to keep the water surging around you rather than on your actual body. That way anytime he tried to electrocute the water, you would shoot the water back to him effectively giving him a taste of his own medicine.

You were beyond smart, but in every plan there was a flaw. While it was clear you would be the victor of this fight, it wouldn’t be as easy as you wished. Along with the villain’s lightening like quirk, it gave him the ability to move rather quickly like lightening itself. The villain’s quirk was far from super speed, but it was tricky enough to give you a hard time.

From watching your battle unfold, Bakugou assumed you were trying to wrap the water around the villain to basically trap himself, so either way if the villain used his quirk or gave up in your grasp you would be successful.

Even with the villain’s slight advantage, the young villain from above held no doubt that this fight would be over in five minutes. The villain you were fighting was known as, Daggerbolt; the rather lame name fitting his lame personality. He was underrated for a reason, even with such a powerful quirk he had his head stuck so far up his butt it made him incapable of defeating any heroes.

The only way the foolish villain would take you down is if you were caught off guard, which was highly impossible.

Or... perhaps this once Bakugou would misjudge the situation too soon.

Both your (e/c) eyes and Bakugou’s crimson ones landed on the small boy that was cowering behind one of the many tables outside of a restaurant. He must have lost his mother in the heat of the moment, but as you saw the villain aim towards the giant billboard your (e/c) eyes widened.

Flipping your (h/c) hair behind you, you wasted no time in raising your arms, water wrapping around them to form a new pair of water like arms. Launching yourself off the ground as the villain electrocuted the billboard you let one of your water arms wrap around a metal flag pole hanging off the side of a building while your other wrapped around the base of the billboard.

Letting out a pained groan you pushed against the creaking billboard with all your might to keep it from falling on top of the boy.

Gritting your teeth you looked down to the boy who was watching in amazement and fear.

“K..Kid, get o..out of here!” You screamed, the kid immediately nodding his head before darting back into a nearby ally.

You yelled out in pain from keeping the billboard up, your muscles feeling more strained than ever. Once the kid was out of sight you were ready to release your water hold and let it fall until you heart a sinister laugh come from below you.

“My my my Dear (Hero name)...” The villain purred, your eyes flicking down to see the villain’s arm pointed up to your body, “You seem to be in quite a shocking position.”

Your eyes suddenly widened along with the ash blond who was on the building next to you as you realized both of your arms had water wrapped around them.

Just as you were about to scream for the villain to stop it was too late, a bolt of electricity shot from the villain’s hands effectively enveloping your entire body.

You let out a shrill scream that was so loud, Bakugou was sure the entire country of Japan heard it, the haunting sound echoing through the city walls.

Your body seemed to shrivel up at the new pain you felt causing you to loose control of the water around you, your limp body falling down from at least one story high before your body hit the cement with a loud thud.

The villain before you seemed to be just as surprised as Bakugou and the rest of the city was. The Number 3 Hero, the shinning face of Japan, the next hit sensation was truly lying unconscious before him, your body twitching every so often from the extreme amount of energy that was brought into you.

But just as quickly as the shocked appeared on the villain’s face, it quickly disappeared being replaced with a sinister smirk.

“Now I warned you Miss (Hero Name) didn’t I?” The villain questioned tauntingly, his arms sparking up as he watched your barely breathing form twitch around, managing to get on your back before you yelped in pain just at that movement, “I told you this would be your doomsday...”

Bakugou watched as he sauntered to your weak form, his heart racing wildly and his brain thinking a mile a minute. This couldn’t be happening... you never got beat.. right? Yeah.. yeah you would get up in a minute and surprise attack the villain with an uppercut to the jaw, surely.

Crouching down the villain grabbed you by the neck, lifting your struggling form up from the ground as you began to cough for air, your arms not being strong enough to even bring them to your neck.

“Now all of Japan gets to watch as I destroy their precious hero!”

The ash blond was now in a standing position, his fists clenched as he watched your weak form being held up in the villain’s hands.

How could you just allow the villain to do this? You were (L/n) (F/n), you never lost! This villain is about to murder you and you’re just letting it happen.

Every fiber and voice in Bakugou’s body was screaming at him to jump down there and save you, but he knew his reputation would be sucked down the drain if he did that in front of all these people.

Gritting his teeth he felt his palms begin to smoke up as he watched the villain’s palm begin to spark up lightly.

“Fucking come on (L/n).. move!” Bakugou growled between his teeth.

Looking down to the villain with narrowed (e/c) eyes you felt chills go through your body when you heard Daggerbolt’s laugh fill the air.

“Everyone will get to see you fail water girl, I almost feel bad... but then again you were a pain in every villain’s ass...” Daggerbolt growled before his free palm gripped your chin as his palms began to light up, “Light’s out (Hero Name).”

Suddenly the ash blond had launched himself down to the ground, his body almost out of his control as he let off a loud explosion that shook the ground.

Bakugou watched every moment of your little talk, but it wasn’t the words he was telling you or the pained noises you were making that caused him to take action, it was the one look in your eyes that you held at your final moments. That expression that filled your beautiful (e/c) eyes that Bakugou had never truly seen before.

Fear.

Daggerbolt’s grip on you faded at the loud of the sound explosion, your neck escaping his grasp as your limp body fell to the ground. Taking advantage of the grey smoke that was around, Bakugou quickly snatched up your barely conscious body, carefully pulling you into his arms until the smoke faded away to reveal the scene below.

“Who the hell...” The villain hissed, letting out a few coughs from the smoke until he caught a glimpse at the all too familiar ash blond hair and crimson eyes he knew before, “Ground Zero?! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Honestly Bakugou couldn’t even come up with a response. What was he doing? Here he stood, the most notorious villain in all of Japan, hell even the world, holding your limp body protectively in your arms in front of millions to watch.

Deciding not to answer at all Bakugou just slammed his fist into the cement causing a large explosion to go off while the cement exploded upwards toward Daggerbolt from the force of the blow.

Looking for some sort of escape, Bakugou held your body up against his chest while he slowly began to back away from the scene.

“You’re making a big mistake Ground Zero,” Daggerbolt threatened, his hands beginning to light up as he pointed an accusing finger to the boy, “You’re about to turn your back on your entire family!”

At this the ash blond grit his teeth, his eyes darkening as he let one hand go free from your grasp, “You don’t know what the fuck family even is...”

With that he let off an enormous explosion, one so extreme it sent the whole block of city in flames. Windows were blasted open, any signs or wooden objects were up in flames or simply burnt to ash.

Bakugou wasn’t sure if the villain was able to make it out of that blast alive, but at this point he didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

All he could do was take off the other way with you in his arms. Hearing the sound of sirens in the back, the ash blond let out a string of curses before letting his free arm blast behind him launching them both into the air above the buildings.

Once getting far enough from the scene Bakugou landed towards a familiar abandoned beach he would visit occasionally, running towards a nearby abandoned shack.

In the midst of his escape you began to cough violently, your whimpering voice filling the air signaling you were somewhat awake causing him to look down.

“K..Katsuki...? Is that y..you?”

Bakugou only let out a grunt, continuing his mad dash to the hut until he was inside, slamming the door shut behind him to leave no trace of the two of you until you spoke up again.

“W..What did you just do... Katsuki what-”

“Shut up.” Bakugou hissed, but his voice lacked his usual bite, holding more of a fear and concern instead, “I just saved your sorry ass from that freak show of a villain-”

You opened your mouth to interrupt before Bakugou placed a calloused finger on your lips effectivly hushing you up, “No I didn’t fucking plan on it and no I don’t know why, but all that matters now is that we are in this together alright?”

Blinking for a moment you let out a pained groan before nodding slightly, the villain letting out a sigh before he placed you on the old bamboo flooring of the shack carefully as you consciousness began to fade once more.

From what he could tell you weren’t going to die, but you would certainly feel this in the morning. As much as he wanted to leave to get supplies to better you, there was no way in hell he was going to leave you alone in this state. And quite honestly he shouldn’t be out there alone in his state, not after that stunt he just pulled.

Letting out a gruff sigh, the ash blond leaned back against one of the wooden walls, watching as your eyes fluttered in a battle to stay awake before you gave into the exhaustion and began to fall asleep.

Once Bakugou assured you were asleep he let out a calmer sigh, letting his fingers run through your messy locks as he looked out one of the cracked windows.

This definitely wasn’t part of the plan, saving you was not apart of the damn plan. But now here he was, and as confident and cocky as he portrayed himself, even he couldn’t help but feel the fear creep in.

He had no.. no home. There was no way in hell he could show his face near any villains, an uprising has probably already started now that he was gone. But he couldn’t show his face with the heroes either, since he still was in there eyes the worlds most dangerous villain.

Bakugou grit his teeth, letting out a shaky breath until he felt your head nudge against his thigh, breaking him out of his stressed trance to see your form begin to cuddle up to him.

Letting out a quiet chuckle the ash blond gazed down to your tattered form with grateful eyes, even though he probably just made the most regrettable decision of his life, he also made the best. Thanks to his instinct there was still air flowing in and out of those heart shaped lips he grew to love.

Placing a warm kiss on your forehead the ash blond dragged your scratched up head into his lap, pulling your cool body into his warmth while his fingers massaged your head lightly, his words still playing on repeat in his head until he too fell asleep...

“All that matters now is that we are in this together.”

#bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #villain bakugou #villain bakugou x reader #anti hero bakugou #anti hero bakugou x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #this is a lil long #but i'm pretty proud #ennnnnnnnn j o y

393 notes · View notes

burmecianblackmage · 6 years

Text

KNOW THE MUN - for real! - THROUGH MUSE!

Tag muns you want to know better; repost - don’t reblog.

What inspired you to try/create that muse/s: The year is 2013, and yours truly is a more or less active player on a german site called Legend of the Green Dragon. After having started with a mage character back in 2006 and eventually retiring him, I’ve been playing a young Samurai for a good year and a half, maybe already two, and I am a member of a small guild. It is a guild of similar characters, allowing for their stories to mix and mesh rather fluidly. One of them becomes my boy’s teacher, the other his rival that always tries to one up him when it comes to a certain lady corsair, who after a while falls for my boy. And there is also another girl, older than my boy, that used to be his new master’s sole student (and love interest), and that is mad furious about having to share her esteemed Sensei’s attention with my character.

It is with the mun behind said girl that I am talking, sitting in a little cafe with her as I am on my way back from visiting some people in Germany and decided to stop by. After all, since the guild meet.up the year before, we’ve been rather close friends, capable of both talking about serious stuff and worries as well as brainstorming some delightful nonsense.

One of these nonsense thoughts we have comes up when we discuss Final Fantasy, especially my fondness for Black Mages and FF IX. Having played the game as well and having taken a deep liking to the character of Freya, my friend remarks that she feels her part had been too small ultimately, and that it’s a shame we never got to explore Burmecia and the Burmecians more. And that’s when it happens:

“What if there was a Burmecian that was also a Black Mage? A Burmecian Black Mage?”

It is a couple weeks later when I am back home already and have mostly forgotten about it that I receive a message from my friend, with a dA link attached. A link to this sketch.

Initially, nothing comes from the idea, but I hold on to the sketch. And then one day, when upon lamenting the decline in activity on LotGD, a friend suggests roleplaying on tumblr, and I start to ponder what kind of muse I could play, I remember the sketch.

The basic concept for Sceada (whose name was lazily picked identically to my uername on most sites, I have to admit) takes less than two days to take shape, and on February 4th 2014, I first throw my new creation at another roleplayer and their muse - which, most fittingly, happens to be Freya Crescent.

And from there on out, the little Burmecian Black Mage as well as his backstory and characteristics continued to grow andfrow, further taking shape before ultimately arriving at what you are looking at today - and from here on out, he’ll keep growing further...

What is inspiration for that muse/s: To a large extent, Sceada is an amalgamation of mriad stories I read, as well as several mangas(animes featuring wizards and spellcasters, and last but not least the question, how an adult Vivi might be. There’s constantly stuff influencing and inspiring new facts and developments about him, be it from music that touches me, narratives that move me or even random ideas that come up in conversation, Much of Sceada has been shaped by both what happens to him in plays, as well as what people have come up with together with me.

There’s even some crucial facts about him that only came about because of an at first glance unrelated comment by someone, like for example, Sceada not being a “real” Burmecian, and actually having a non-Burmecian father. That initially came about courtesy of a remark about how he didn’t really look all that rat like, and more like a, I quote, “a damn Tree-Kangaroo” - a sentiment I do not really agree with, but even so... it inspired his mixed parenthood, which in turn developed into an explanation on why he can use magic. Funny how that sometimes goes, huh?

Thread/AU that made you really happy: Currently, I’d have difficulties naming a favorite AU, simply because I don’t seem to have any left running anymore. Sure, I could count the ships as respective verses/AUs, but nah. Those are still the same Sceada. So yeah...

I was always fond of the group verses, and the interactions born from those. Especially Pledged Prelude back in the day offered me a lot of great interaction, and has proven to be a big part of the foundation on which Sceada is ultimately built. Though, strictly speaking it was no AU, and is part of his canon, so well.... I don’t know. Crystathereum was fun, but sadly didn’t get underway as much as we all hoped it would, and the same goes for Crowned Reveries. They allowed me to meet new people, and gave me some fun plays, but ultimately they didn’t stick as long as I’d have hoped.

Speaking of favorite threads, there’s some that come to mind. From the AUs, the battle between Victoria F. Stein and Sceada in Myrefall was a clear favorite, as it highlighted not only a lot about Sceada’s skills but also about his character, and featured some truly interesting - and disturbing - choices on his end. Setting your own clothes and fur on fire so you won’t get ripped to shreds by a blizzard full of icy blades? And then actually managing to save the city he despised as a direct result of that move and the static electricity it built in the storm clouds overhead? Talk about crazy, and crazy fun to write.

There’s naturally also a ton of shipping threads on that list. I always especially adored the interactions between Sceada and Leonora, his first love, and how much he grew from them. Another favorite is Sceada finding Mara after a nightmare, and despite them not being a couple yet comforting her with the words “Nothing you confess could make me love you any less”, I really liked the feeling of that one. Or Maria opening Sceada’s eyes to the fact that Black Magic need not mean destruction necessarily. Selphie telling him she wants children with him, and the lead up to him wanting them to. Sceada finding Fran in the forest after she removed herself due to being in heat. Sceada inviting Maria for Valentine’s Day as friends and realizing slowly that there might be more between them.

I could go on for hours. But for now, let me end this list with saying that there’s many more that could be on here, so many more that were accumulated over the four and a half years I’ve been here by now (and even more if we add my other blogs, because everything with Edea and Kamiizumi was just so great <3), and I’m sure that list will only grow. I’m confident that before long, many many more memorable plays could be added here, with all sorts of partners.

Something really special on your wishlist: Hmm... two things come to mind rather quickly for that. One would be to see Sceada actively teach someone about Magic as a mentor or even professor of sorts. I want to see him pass on his knowledge, see him be an example for the next generation and perhaps even admired by his students - or by his protege, should he only have one student. It’d definitely be interesting to see him in such a role.

Likewise, I really want to see him in a fatherly role. This can be by becoming an actual father, or in others words, by having a child with someone he holds dear, but I can also see it with him watching over someone else’s child, for whichever reason it happens. Did he adopt them? Did their parents leave them in his care while they left for a couple years? Did he find them alone and abandoned? Did he save them from an abusive household? I’d be down for anything in that regard. And I’d really like to see not only the happy sides of being a father, but also the awkward and sometimes uncomfortable sides. The thought of Sceada having to give a child the talk is particularly amusing to me, I have to admit...

Thinking about it now, there’s two more I could actually mention, albeit briefly: I’d like to see the conflict between Sceada and his mother unfold, and not just in drabbles but in actual plays with people witnessing it and being an influence. And if possible, I’d like to explore a polyamorous Sceada one day, as I feel it could suit him well - or, at least, have him confronted with the idea, and realize why he finds it appealing, but potentially not the right thing for him. That’d work too.

Something you are looking for in short future for your muse: Finally making some progress with his Journey. I’ve been awfully slow with it for numerous reasons... *sigh* Also, in some of the ships, there are a number of small... let’s call them milestones for now, that I’d like to reach. But those will develop at their own pace.

Share something related to your muse!

While I was in rehab, my girlfriend had a plush made of Sceada for me, based on one of my favorite art pieces of him. Gotta say, I’m really fond of this one.

And for something only slightly related to Sceada, I want to say that it still baffles me that people would pay money to commission art of my little Burmecian. Seriously, that’s a big deal for me, you guys. Now, for several reasons I may not be capable of showing all of it on this blog (especially the two most recent pieces *cough*), but it is always certain to make me extremely happy.

What do you think about character’s design/how do you came up with this: Both the plays and ideas have shaped Sceada into who he is today and what he looks like. And quite frankly, even if I could start over anew, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

What your muse teached you: It’s less my muse that thought me this and more the muses that interacted with him, but... Everyone deserves to be loved, but that does not mean that you deserve a specific person’s love. Loving yourself and accepting who you are is important. And there are always many sides to a situation. Just because something was devised for destruction does not mean that it can only bring harm, that it cannot protect what we cherish and hold dear.

What is roleplay for you: In equally parts a place where I am allowed to dream, as well as an escape from the real world. It is where I can meet people and bond with them, and write a story no one person could ever write on their own. It is my hobby and my joy, and sometimes, it is also my pride.

Just say something nice about another mun!: I’ve met many a wonderful friend on here, and it would not be fair to just pick one from out of them I feel. So I’ll use this opportunity to tag some people, both ones I actively talk to a lot and those I sadly haven’t as much anymore. So, consider this a shout-out to @artemisxbow @thislovelylady @containyourmainposure @sunny-explosions @dovsebrii @rosalia-the-guardian @riotxblade @the-shadow-of-a-wielder and @not-a-rogue

tagged: @rosalia-the-guardian here: [x], plus I saw it from several others

tagging: I think most of the people that I would nominate and that are active already did this one, so... I’ll pass the tagging for today. If you see this and wanna do this, feel free to tag me though~

#RequestsHeeded #Mun Info #Muse Info #this got rather long... apologies for that x.x

6 notes · View notes

tellmevarric · 7 years

Text

Step Into Another Day - Part 8

You can find the other parts here. Or over on AO3.

*gives Bodhi and Cassian an exasperated look* These two live to make my life difficult. Thankfully Hoth came to my rescue with its miserable weather and convenient storms. Who doesn’t like the ‘stranded in the cold and have to huddle for warmth’ trope?

Hoth was cold. Bodhi was used to being cold but Hoth took it to entirely new and ridiculous levels. What was worse was it was the only one of the worlds they’d scouted so far that seemed to satisfy Cassian. Admittedly two of the four worlds they’d already gone to had sentient life forms in various stages of development, which had immediately ruled them out. The third world was scorchingly hot and semi-volcanic and far too unstable to use as a base. The fourth world had been promising at first but while there were nothing sentient there, the life forms that did live there had proven that they were not interested in sharing. Bodhi rubbed his shoulder. It still ached from the bruising he’d received after being bowled over by something very large and very grumpy that wasn’t Baze.

Hoth was a definite improvement on those worlds in many ways. It had no sentient life forms, it was stable and the wildlife was sparse and could be easily avoided if they were careful. But it was neck deep in snow and ice with constant storms raging overhead. It was habitable but in Bodhi’s opinion, only just.

Just then, Cassian returned in a flurry of snow and deep disgruntlement and broke Bodhi out of his thoughts.

“Well?” he asked, wrapping his arms around his legs as he huddled near the small fire they’d managed to start.

“The storm’s closing in fast,” Cassian replied in a manner that suggested he felt personally offended by the news. “Kay can’t get here before it does so we’re stuck here until the storm passes. “

“Oh,” Bodhi said, shrinking down a little as he wondered just how much colder it was going to get. “And the others?”

“They made it back to the shuttle,” Cassian replied, dropping down to sit beside Bodhi. “Apparently they found a cave system that looks promising so we’ll check that out after the storm’s gone.”

Bodhi winced. “You think the Rebellion might choose to relocate here?”

Cassian glanced over at his dubious tone and Bodhi scowled a little at the man’s amused expression. “Maybe. It won’t be good for the electronics and mechanicals but that’ll work for us as well as against us. And this place is so out of the way that the chances of the Empire finding us are much smaller.”

Bodhi noted that Cassian didn’t say ‘minimal’ or ‘not at all’. “They’ll be looking, won’t they?”

“With all the fury they can muster,” Cassian replied sourly. “We beat them. Worse, we humiliated them by destroying their masterpiece. They won’t take that kindly.”

Bodhi shivered and this time it wasn’t because of the cold. “Will… will the Rebellion want to ask me questions?”

“Probably,” Cassian replied. “You probably know more than you think you do.”

Bodhi hunched down and didn’t reply. Cassian seemed to realise something was wrong as he nudged Bodhi gently.

“What’s wrong?”

Bodhi hesitated for a moment. “I… that part… it’s hard to remember a lot of it.”

Now it was Cassian’s turn to briefly fall silent. “Because of what Bor Gullet did?”

Bodhi nodded and hunched in on himself again. Cassian came over and slung an arm over his shoulders. Bodhi tried not to lean into the contact but Cassian felt… strong and he wasn’t feeling that right now. Cassian didn’t complain when he leaned into him, instead all he did was tighten his grip.

“They know what happened,” Cassian said quietly. “I mean, not in full but how you were when we found you.”

Bodhi turned his head slightly. “Found me?”

Cassian snorted and looked amused. “Found you. Thrown into prison beside you. It’s all about the same.”

Bodhi managed a small smile. “If you say so.”

“Anyway,” Cassian said firmly. “They know you were… hurt by Saw Gerrera. Just tell them what you can remember.”

Bodhi nodded. “Okay.” He cocked his head slightly. “You were looking for me.”

“Yes,” Cassian replied. “A contact of mine had heard what you were telling everyone. We knew we had to get to you before the Empire did. Or Saw Gerrera.”

Bodhi frowned and stared down at his feet. “Why did Galen send me to Gerrera if he was so…”

“Unstable?” Cassian sighed and shrugged. “He wasn’t always like that or so I’m told. Given how many years had passed, Galen probably didn’t know how much Gerrera had deteriorated or that the Rebellion had cut ties with him because of his extremism. He was the man he’d trusted with his daughter, after all.”

Bodhi nodded and stared at the small fire in front of them. He shivered and felt Cassian’s arm tighten around him again.

“Cold?”

Bodhi nodded. “A bit.”

Cassian got up and Bodhi mourning the loss of the arm around his shoulders, partly or the closeness but also because Cassian was warm. The man was rummaging through their packs and pulling out a few items. Bodhi knew they didn’t have much though. They hadn’t expected to be gone long nor had they expected the storm. He then realised that he hadn’t had much in his pack beyond the necessities for their mission but Cassian was a different story. He was pulling out thermal blanket packs, rations, water bottles and even a small collapsible tent.

“What? Why didn’t I…?”

Cassian gave him a wry smile. “You had all the surveying gear so I packed the survival gear.”

“Wasn’t that a bit reckless?” Bodhi asked with growing exasperation. “What if we’d gotten separated?”

Cassian stilled for a moment before continuing his work. “I… didn’t want you to worry.”

“I’m sure I would have been pleased about that while I was freezing to death.”

Cassian glanced over at him and his expression was so unreadable that Bodhi almost cowered away from it. Then it abruptly cleared and Cassian turned back to his work.

“I wouldn’t have let that happen,” he said so firmly that Bodhi didn’t really know what to say. He then held out one of the silvery blankets. “Here.”

Bodhi took the blanket and pulled it out of its packet. He wrapped it around himself as best as he could and continued to watch Cassian. The man was unpacking the tent in short, jerky motions as he glanced over his shoulder towards the entrance to the shallow cave they were in.

“If this cave was deeper, we’d be fine but the temperature’s going to drop when that storm hits,” Cassian said brusquely.

Bodhi was becoming increasingly baffled and frustrated by Cassian’s behaviour. Half the time he was sure the man didn’t want him around. The rest of the time he was half convinced that Cassian was actually interested in him. Though he wasn’t entirely sure if that was real or if it was wishful thinking on his part. He still wasn’t entirely confident of the things his mind told him these days, though he hadn’t mentioned it to the others. He didn’t want their pity. He wanted to be grounded even less.

“I’m used to the cold,” he said absently as he burrowed into the blankets a bit more and stared into the fire. “Jedha isn’t exactly warm and the Empire doesn’t waste resources on heating if it doesn’t have to.”

He felt the heavy weight of Cassian’s gaze on him again then it disappeared as the tent unfolded itself into shape and the man set to work stabilising and securing it. The door of the tent faced the fire and once the tent was secure, Cassian opened it and started tossing their packs and equipment inside. Once he was done, he picked up the other thermal blanket and a couple of ration packs and came back to sit beside Bodhi.

“You okay?” he asked as he shook out his own blanket. “You’ve been quiet.”

Bodhi didn’t really want to talk about his conflicting emotions about Cassian to the man himself so he tried a little misdirection. “What do you think they’ll do with us?”

Cassian frowned. “Who?”

“The Rebellion.” Bodhi glanced over at him. “Assuming they call this mission a success.”

Cassian’s frowned eased into something more thoughtful. “I’m not sure. We’ve got…” He snorted with amusement. “A fairly interesting skill set as a group. My guess is probably Intelligence… information gathering, spying, maybe some judicious appropriation of property and some sabotage.”

Bodhi was silent for a moment. “No assassinations?” he ventured in an almost-whisper.

Cassian went very still and Bodhi immediately regretted his question. He didn’t retract it though and instead curled in on himself a bit more, hoping Cassian wouldn’t start yelling. That would make waiting out the storm very, very awkward. But then Cassian sighed and slumped down a little.

“I can’t guarantee that,” he said quietly. “I… I’ve always been good at that and sometimes the Rebellion needs the dirty work to be done in the darkness so that the higher ups can do what they do in the sunlight.”

Bodhi swallowed hard. He understood that, he truly did, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be a part of such actions. Or that he wanted Cassian to have to do them anymore.

“They’d probably send me on my own if they needed that done,” Cassian said hesitantly, almost like a peace offering. “Not all of us.”

“That’s… that doesn’t make it any better,” Bodhi said with a frown.

Cassian sighed. “I don’t know what else I can say, Bodhi. Sometimes these things have to be done.”

“But not by you,” Bodhi blurted before he could stop himself.

Cassian turned to look at him, his expression deep and unfathomable, at least to Bodhi. As he watched, Cassian swallowed and looked away, his expression changing to something sorrowful and shamed. Bodhi had no idea what was going on inside Cassian’s head but he didn’t like the direction it seemed to be taking.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” he blurted out. “Never that. But… I don’t want you to have to do that anymore.”

“You weren’t thinking that on Eadu,” Cassian said, his voice harsh enough to make Bodhi flinch.

“I never thought you were a bad person,” he said, unable to hide the tremor in his voice. “Not even then, not even when I realised what you were going to do. I didn’t want you to do it but I didn’t think you were a bad person.” He licked his lips. “Besides, you didn’t kill Galen.”

Cassian’s lips twisted sourly. “No, I didn’t but the Rebellion still did.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“I didn’t argue against it,” Cassian said heavily. “I understood the reasoning behind it.”

Bodhi bit his lip. “You didn’t know if you could trust Galen.”

Cassian snorted softly. “No.”

Bodhi was silent for a moment. “You didn’t know if you could trust me.”

Cassian went absolutely still and refused to look at Bodhi as he whispered, “No.”

“It’s okay. I’m not sure I would have trusted me either.” Bodhi managed a small, wry smile when Cassian’s head whipped around to stare at him. “Some half out of his mind Imperial pilot coming out of nowhere with an outlandish message from a man whose only character witness was Saw Gerrera.” He gave a rueful laugh. “Not exactly something to inspire confidence or convince anyone that it wasn’t a trap.”

Cassian glared into the fire. “We’d been fed bad information before. And that was from credible sources.”

“It’s okay,” Bodhi repeated. “I didn’t expect to be trusted. I just wanted to get my message to Saw Gerrera.” He chewed on his lip again. “And… and he might have been a bit crazy but he did give the message to Jyn. It worked out.”

“He hurt you,” Cassian growled.

Bodhi flinched and a moment later one of Cassian’s hand was clamped on his knee.

“Sorry,” Cassian said. “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay,” Bodhi said hurriedly, interrupting him. “I mean… it’s not but I’m… okay. Ish.”

Cassian shifted around onto his knees and frowned at Bodhi. This frown however was full of worry and he couldn’t help the surge of warmth at that sign of Cassian’s concern.

“Are you still having nightmares?”

Bodhi nodded. “Most nights.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want…” He grimaced. “The medication they gave me makes me feel horrible in the morning.”

“There are other things they can try other than medication.”

Bodhi shrugged. “I can usually get back to sleep afterwards.”

Cassian settled back down but he didn’t look appeased. He kept glancing at Bodhi like he wanted to say something more. Bodhi put up with it for a while but just as he opened his mouth to say something pointed, the howl of the wind outside suddenly turned into a scream and it swept into the shallow cave, bringing snow and ice with it. Cassian cursed and hurriedly got to his feet.

“Into the tent,” he snapped as he kicked a mix of dirt and snow over the fire to douse it.

Bodhi grabbed both of the blankets and the ration packs and dived into the tent. Cassian followed him and sealed the door. He lit the small emergency lantern and the inside of the tent was bathed in a soft yellow light. Outside the scream of the wind continued, barely muffled by the thin fabric of the tent.

“How long will the storm last?” Bodhi asked as they settled themselves down in the tight confines of the tent.

“Couple of hours,” Cassian replied. “But there’s a bigger storm front behind it. Kay’s going to come and get us once this storm clears.” He looked around the tent. “You should get some rest.”

“What about you?” Bodhi replied.

He’d half expected Cassian to say something about one of them needing to stand guard or something along those lines. Instead, the other man grimaced and nodded.

“Yeah, okay.”

Bodhi was surprised but then he saw the lines of strain around Cassian’s eyes. Cassian hadn’t been the worst hurt out of them – that honour had been a bit of a tie between Chirrut and Baze – but he had been hurt badly by his fall down the shaft and had then compounded it by disobeying the medic’s orders at first back on Yavin IV. He’d been officially cleared for this mission but it was obvious now that he’d been pushing himself a bit too hard. That wasn’t really a surprise. Walking through snow and ice was a touch different from what they’d done on the other planets.

They shuffled around a bit so that Cassian could lie on his good side and then Bodhi curled up facing him. They were covered by the thermal blankets, their heads pillowed on their packs and the lantern sat at their feet. Bodhi was pleased to see some of the strain on Cassian’s face ease.

“What were you going to say before the storm hit?” he asked before he could think better of it.

Cassian gave a start then shook his head. “Nothing important.”

“It was something,” Bodhi replied.

Cassian sighed and Bodhi saw a faint tinge of pink on his cheeks as he spoke. “You, uh… slept well that night in medbay.”

Now it was Bodhi’s turn to blush. He remembered that night. He’d woken from a nightmare about Bor Gullet and Cassian had comforted him, even lying next to him on the bed. Baze had woken them early the next morning before the medics had come in and Bodhi had been a bit mortified to find that in the night he’d all but draped himself over Cassian. For his part, Cassian had seemed uncertain how to react and had quickly retreated to his own bed. He’d been taciturn and standoffish for the rest of the day. That would have hurt except that he’d caught Cassian flicking him confused but warm little glances throughout the day.

“Um, yes,” he said then his traitorous tongue continued with, “You’re warm.”

Cassian looked startled and his cheeks went pink again. “Oh. Right.”

“It got cold in medbay at night and you were so warm and…” Bodhi covered his face with his hands and groaned. “I’m sorry?”

He heard Cassian chuckle then his hands were pulled away from his face. Cassian looked amused and just a touch confused but he didn’t look angry or upset and that was really what mattered to Bodhi right now.

“It’s okay,” Cassian said. “I think Baze thought it was hilarious.”

Bodhi gave him a sceptical look. “Does Baze think anything is hilarious?”

“He thinks Chirrut is a riot,” Cassian said dryly.

Bodhi laughed at that. Baze and Chirrut seemed to make each other laugh at the drop of a hat, often at things that didn’t really seem funny at all. It was a bit baffling but kind of funny at the same time.

“I think they’ve been together for a very long time,” he said.

“I think they’re a bit strange,” Cassian said, still in that very dry tone.

Bodhi laughed again. “Well, they’re married. At least, I think so. They’re allowed to be a bit strange.”

“They’re married?” Cassian said with surprise.

Bodhi nodded. “I think so. They’re together anyway.” He blushed. “I saw… when they brought Chirrut back in from the bacta tanks, Baze… well, it was pretty obvious.” He saw Cassian’s expression and sputtered for a moment. “Not like that, Cassian! They were just… very sweet.”

Cassian looked rather nonplussed, as though he was altering his entire world view to encompass the idea of Baze being sweet, then he laughed softly. “You know, it makes it all make sense now. The way they are together.”

“Besides…” Bodhi began, looking rather thoughtful as he tried to remember things that had been said when he was younger. “I think the braids in Baze’s hair are matrimonial braids. They do that in certain parts of Jedha.” He winced. “Or did. I remember my mother talking about that with one of the neighbours once.”

“Huh,” Cassian said.

The wind screamed again and Bodhi shivered. That caught Cassian’s attention. He hesitated for a moment then shuffled over and wrapped his arm and therefore his blanket around Bodhi’s shoulders. Bodhi shivered again, though this time it had nothing to do with the cold. He dared to curl into the other man and ducked his head to hide his smile when Cassian’s arm tightened around him.

“Do you really think the Rebellion will want to use this place as a base?” he asked as a distraction, raising his head. He was glad he’d asked the question because they were lying so close to each other now and it distracted Cassian from his sudden indrawn breath.

“Possibly,” Cassian replied after a moment’s silence. “It’s got a lot of advantages, tactically speaking. It’s far enough from the normal space lanes that anyone coming here would be noticed. Probably. And if they did come, we’d at least get enough warning to do a semi-orderly evacuation.”

“It’s freezing,” Bodhi grumbled.

Cassian gave a brief laugh. “Yeah, it is. I’ve been to worse places though.”

Bodhi scrunched up his face at that idea. “I was going to ask,” he said, “But now I’ve decided not to.”

“I’ve been to some nice places as well,” Cassian offered. “Not many but some.”

“You need a better job,” Bodhi grumbled.

Cassian hesitated for a moment then he smiled. “I think I have one.”

Bodhi looked at him with surprise, suddenly aware of how close they were lying to each other. Something must have changed in his expression because Cassian went very still and his eyes widened even as his face went utterly blank. He then swallowed and licked his lips and Bodhi saw something hesitant and uncertain in his eyes. Cassian leaned towards him then stopped.

“Bodhi,” he breathed. “I want… can I…?”

Bodhi didn’t bother with an answer. He closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against Cassian’s. For a moment, Cassian was utterly still and Bodhi wondered whether he’d done the wrong thing. Then Cassian burst into motion, pulling him tight against his body and deepening the kiss, licking and nipping at his bottom lip with eager fervour. Bodhi squeaked with surprise at the passionate response to his hesitant kiss but when Cassian would have pulled back, he grabbed hold of his shirt and didn’t let him. Cassian shuddered and continued kissing him.

Bodhi wasn’t sure how long they kissed before they finally parted on a sigh. He opened his eyes and saw that Cassian’s were still closed and there was an almost quizzical smile on the man’s face. Then Cassian opened his eyes and Bodhi smiled at him.

“Hi,” he said before blushing and ducking his head a little, mentally cursing his ineptitude.

Cassian chuckled and caressed his cheek. “Hi yourself.” He bit his lip. “I… that was unexpected.”

Bodhi raised his head and looked askance. “Really? You mean I haven’t been pathetically obvious? Because I think even Kay knows how I feel and he’s only been back with us for a couple of weeks. Chirrut knows and he’s blind.”

Cassian looked a bit like he’d smacked him across the back of his head with a board and Bodhi giggled.

“Did you really not know? I… I thought you were just being polite and ignoring it because you…” He paused and drew in a breath then let it out again. “You didn’t feel the same.”

Cassian still looked a bit pole-axed but now he was frowning. Bodhi wasn’t worried because the frown was more disgruntled than angry. Finally Cassian let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m… it’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this,” he admitted reluctantly. “I may be out of practice.”

Bodhi had a sneaking suspicion that Cassian had never done something like this. That he’d taken his pleasure when and where he could and never allowed himself to linger or to care. He didn’t mind. It wasn’t as though he had any greater experience. They could muddle through this together. And if they hit a snag, well, Bodhi was sure that Baze, at least, would give them sage advice. He wasn’t quite as sure about Chirrut. He liked Chirrut and he was sure Chirrut would give them plenty of advice if they asked – and even if they didn’t ask – he just wasn’t sure how sage that advice would actually be. Not that he thought it would bad advice or malicious or anything like that but Chirrut liked mischief far too much to give sage advice.

“I think that makes me feel better,” he said with a small smile. “I feel a little less pathetically stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Cassian said immediately, his frown deepening. “Or pathetic.”

Bodhi smiled at that. “Thank you. But I still felt that way. I was pining, you know.”

Now Cassian began to smile again. “Pining, huh?”

“Yep.”

“I may have been doing a bit of that myself.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Bodhi said ruefully. “I mean… I hoped. You kept smiling at me but then you started sort of looming over me and frowning a lot on that second world we went to so I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on.”

“I… I was worried,” Cassian replied, looking a bit nonplussed. “You got knocked down by that… thing. It was pure luck you weren’t hurt worse than just some bruises.”

“I thought I was in trouble,” Bodhi replied.

Cassian was silent for a moment. “I probably need to work on my worrying. Make it less… threatening.”

Bodhi giggled. “Maybe just a bit.”

Cassian smiled ruefully and ducked down to quickly kiss Bodhi. “I’ll try.”

Bodhi snuggled closer and sighed happily. “At least I’ll know its worry now.”

Cassian made a noncommittal sound but seemed happy to wrap his arms around Bodhi and settle down under the thermal blankets. He seemed to be thinking very hard about something but then he clearly shook himself out of whatever that was and looked at Bodhi. A small, rather intent smile curved his lips and Bodhi shivered at the promise in it.

“Now,” Cassian said, “where were we?”

#fic #writing #spiritassassin #sniperpilot #finally!#rogue one fic #step into another day verse

2 notes · View notes

weareimprobable · 7 years

Text

Lost Without Words - An observer’s experience of the rehearsal process

“I don’t mean to be ageist, but I really love old people. I love their abundant stories, the quiet power of their life experience, the way they can so easily not give a damn. I love the way they are comfortable in their clothes, the spats they have with their aching limbs, their courage and determination, and the occasional cackles and hisses that might spark out of them...

The irony of our time is that we are getting older then ever and yet our culture fetishises youth - we don’t often get to see what it is really like to be 70 or 80 or 90, on a daily basis, unless our work concerns these age groups.

That’s why I am super-excited that my work has, at least temporarily, brought me into contact with six people of that generation. With my academic researcher hat on, I’m sitting in on rehearsals for Improbable’s new show at the National Theatre, Lost Without Words. The idea is to enable six former stars of the stage to return to performing without using a script. The show will be made up every night anew, by the actors themselves.

Improbable’s Artistic Directors Phelim McDermott and Lee Simpson - themselves veteran improvisers - have undertaken to teach the sprightly ensemble some key tricks to help see them through this unlikely challenge.

It’s week 1, day 1 and I’m thinking there is nearly 400 years of professional theatrical experience in this room, give or take! The actors have all met before in various situations and they have done two workshops with Phelim and Lee over the last few years. The proceedings begin with the rehearsal ritual of passing an object around the circle and getting everyone to check in. There is much excitement and some apprehension in the room. I’m a bit surprised when one actor confesses she is afraid of the process because there is no character to hide behind. I am even more surprised when I find out later that this group of actors are not only standing up to their own age-related limitations but also to a stigma about improvisation itself held by many of their peers. ’Improvisation - I wouldn't be seen dead doing it’, they’d say in a RADA-style RP voice. In a break, another actress opens up to me as soon as I sit next to her to say ‘hello’. She wants to cry, she says. She does NOT want a character to hide behind. If you can’t accept yourself now, when will you? This work makes her six years old, she says. She is 86 but she keeps rather active and athletic so she feels more like a 68. This work though…! They are healers, Phelim and Lee. Magicians. She trusts them completely.

Lee does a really good pep talk and this seems to put them all at ease eventually. There will be a showing at the end of the week, but it will just be some people in the room together for about an hour. All they need to do is just be there as honest and awake as they can...

Deeply reassuring wisdom is pouring out of Phelim and Lee:

Being older makes you carry a story of your own - there's no need to prove yourself. It’s a unique perspective most of us don't usually get to see.

If we set anything, it will be to make sure it is different every night.

Improvisation lets you see people unfolding like a flower - it is beautiful.

Sometimes the scenes are like dreams.

You have to have confidence not to perform for the sake of performing and a trust that the audience can see a story in stillness and silence.

If you feel embarrassed - what if you fictionalise that feeling, turn it into a character?

What if it happens again and you feel you can’t do it again because you’ve done it already?

Do it again, and again and again - the audience will think you are a genius!

Articulate it. Then ask yourself how you feel about it. Go with it. Trust it.

Improvising is not about having lots of ideas but having one idea very clearly and adding to it. The key skills are: Slowing down, Really listening to another person (and playing with it), Really listening to yourself. Not having lines to remember frees you up to do that.

By the following morning’s check in the person who said the day before that she was afraid about not having a character to hide behind declares ‘This morning I was lying in my bath thinking: God, if I never manage to get out of this bath again, thank you for yesterday!’. There is laughter thundering around the circle.

It makes them feel alive being on stage, of course. It gives their life meaning to be doing their calling. It holds them up, it bolsters their frailties. Isn’t it the same with all of us? When you truly have a calling you can never retire from it. They are opening like flowers - still! - and it is so beautiful to watch...

They did get to the end of week 1 and they did two public sharings. Some people in a room together for an hour. Slowing down together. Really listening. Really rooting for each other. Chuckling. Holding our breaths. Feeling the freedom. Really letting the magic happen.

The second week of rehearsals is starting this week - and I truly can’t wait.”

Duška Radosavljević

#lostwithoutwords #improvisation #nationatheatre #theatre #cssd #older actors #dorfman

3 notes · View notes

astudyinstandingstill · 4 years

Text

* 01. does it feel futile to breathe when you know one day you won’t?

I often find that gods tend to be more flawed than the societies they govern.

We chose to etch pathways all throughout your bodies. Unreadable maps to your heart that must be handled with extreme caution, lest they be severed by any stray selfish desires. We gave you these maps knowing somewhere deep within us that we would never experience the suffering that we’ve created.

I’d be lying if I told you that I didn’t enjoy my view from the pedestal I’d been placed upon. I pondered, on occasion, if that’s why I never longed to fall from it into love the way I’d watch you all do over and over again for thousands of years. I suppose, in a way, it was silly to me. One of your generations is but a moment of my time, and these connections — these shared moments — felt like little else than a desperate attempt at . . . something. I’m not even confident that I felt as though you knew what you were fighting so hard for.

It’s common to hear that someone has taken your breath away. Though, technically, I am the only one who could do such a thing. I never understood the way just looking at another could force your lungs shut. How love could choke you until the object of that love shared some of their breath with yours.It was an incredible amount of power to grant someone.

There I sat, in my proverbial castle in the sky, and I judged. That is, until Kova was born. The moment she desperately gasped for her first breath, I knew she’d stolen it from me.

I did not fall in love the way that you do. I felt no desire for the physical form she possessed. I felt, instead, an unprecedented curiosity regarding her presence. My affections for her were almost familial. Not as strong as a maternal love, yet more powerful than that of a sister. I felt something else for her, something that nothing had ever felt before.

Kova’s birth spurred a lot of firsts. She was my first love (and many others’), the first nes’kär born to her generation. Among all that, her birth was also the first, genuine instance of the birth of a god.

I view you as an extension of myself. Every breath, every feeling, every moment of both bliss and terror — though I am not experiencing them, they belong to me. It was for that reason that I felt entitled to the power I’d wield over you and your fate. I felt you owed me for the air you’d syphon from the lungs that sprouted from the ground and hosted canopies to shield you from the harsh sun I had also forced you to endure. I owned you, but I did not own Kova. She owed me for nothing. She was the first fate I had ever witnessed that I did not weave with my own two hands.

Sometimes, she tells me stories. She tells me of the way true, unabashed heartbreak can rip that heart right out of your bodies. The way you let water rush over your heads — and how it feels like you’re regaining some sort of purity and you let that purity cleanse you, but it is also dangerous and unforgiving. It can flood your insides and leave you gasping for that first breath again until it burns. She tells me that you’d risk it on a hot day just to spend some time with the people you love.

Kova, once, told me her story. Somehow, though I’d been watching it unfold, it felt new to me. I believe I realized during her description of one of the tests of faith I’d forced her to endure that witnessing an event is not the same as living it. I had never experienced anything. Not truly. I had no idea what it felt like to feel a heart shatter but somehow stay beating. I’d never gotten to feel them shatter; only stop.

She’d begin her story by telling me that graveyards somehow seemed more ominous in the daytime. Perhaps it was the idea that the sunlight would illuminate the spirits that lingered there. Or, maybe, it was that the light would illuminate Orion’s face just enough so that Kova could see the look in her father’s eyes as he gazed upon her mother’s place of final rest, a deep yet hollow grave that they had come to symbolically toss their respects into. Regardless, the moments she spent in the cemetery with what was left of her blood-born family made her realize that the winter was not as cold as she once remembered, but a part of her knew it was only because her father’s hands in hers felt colder.

There was always silence, then. It was as though Katherine had filled the space between them with the overwhelming presence that neither of the two surviving Arondtis’ possessed. That was potentially why Vinnea was such a favored addition to the family: she breathed fire into a hearth that had laid bare since Katherine’s death. Her presence commanded attention, but only from the corner of your eye. Her cadence, while unassuming and generally hostile, left you feeling uneasy for reasons that would never quite become clear to you. Vinnea was never one to mince words: not even at the funeral, when she’d voice her distaste for the Guard and their capacity to “mimic loss”, in her words. Kova never argued that fact with her — it was undeniable that Vinnea had suffered more than any child should.

Katherine’s service was beautiful, albiet cliched. She was laid to rest in an empty coffin, beneath a soldier’s grave east of Lyre, her burial site falling just short of the ocean’s edge. The service was beautifully graced with lilies eagerly provided by the townsfolk, but still had a solemn air lingering above it. The appeal of honoring the dead was not quite lost on Kova, as she had spent many days doing nothing but honoring her mother’s life. However, to Kova’s — who had already paid her respects in the years prior, when Katherine’s untimely departure from this plane was only a possibility — young mind, she could only look through the greyed hue left by the previous day’s rain and see only false declarations of love.

Her uncle, Caito, found himself leading a pack of the Lyrian Guard to their places beside the grave as they stiffly arranged themselves along the edges of the coffin and filled in between the pallbearers. Kova found herself envying them — they knew what they had to do. The steps to take. All anybody had ever done was apologize, or tell her that time would heal. Nobody seemed to have an answer for how much time can mend a neglected heart. She held her father’s hand tightly in hers, and she knew where she was, but Kova was still lost. Her mother had been gone for many years at that point, though she had not been officially declared dead until recently. The weight of what she’d sacrificed in the name of creating a healthy, thriving nation weighed down on her shoulders but had long since stopped being too heavy for Kova to carry. Though she missed her mother greatly, possibly more than she would ever miss a single human being in her short lifetime, she had shed all the tears that she could manage.

Her father, whilst still holding her hand so tightly Kova could feel the tips of her fingers going numb against every contour of his calloused knuckles, cinematically dabbed her grandmother’s tears with his free hand, and she could see through the light layer of fog that he, too, was fighting his own. It was the telltale quiver of his upper lip and a glimmer when his eye caught the low light that gave him away.

Kova indulged in the curiosity of his expression for just a moment before tearing her eyes away, feeling the sudden urge to look anywhere but upon Orion’s freckled face. Her gaze quickly settled on Catio, who had his head bowed as he shuffled to the pedestal that stood tall in front of the neatly arranged soldiers. Both of the men in her life, who had exhibited nothing short of incredible fortitude from the moment Kova was conceived to the moment those men dissolved into the dirt, had been reduced to husks of the people they used to be, devoured unapologetically by their love for Katherine.

In the months following her mother’s death, Kova resented her. It was an irrational resentment, buried deep within, and though it had faded some by the time her funeral rolled, the impact it had on the way she viewed Katherine never went away. Kova stewed in the pain Katherine had caused to the few people she had loved — especially her father. The way she looked at Catio changed ever-so-slightly during those days, too. Though he was present throughout her entire life, and was practically like her second father, there had always been a disconnect in Kova’s relationship with him. Her love for Catio did not run as deep as it would have for a family member, but she always enjoyed it when he’d grace her with his presence. However, there was never a persistent urge to keep him in her life as there was for some others, to the point of near desperation. She mused, idly, on several occasions if that was because Katherine’s disappearance was his, too, in a way. Not physically — he still came around just as often, if not more so, but there was a faraway look in his eyes that translated almost too well into his actions. When he looked at Kova, it was as though he returned, but that lingering feeling of his homecoming lasted only a moment before fading away, possibly to the same void that the rest of Caito had withered to.

During the service, all Kova could manage to do was sit quietly, taking in the words of her peers. They thought she couldn’t hear their whispers, but she had spent the first few years of her speaking life decoding the hushed tones of Orion and Katherine through the thinned wall of their home. She was particularly skilled in the art of making herself vague and unknown, cruising through any crowd with no particular intention. Though she was a direct descendant of who they had all gathered to mourn, in the eyes of the townsfollk she was comparatively inconsequential. To the few whose eye Kova did manage to catch, she’d see them lean in close to one another, whispering harshly under their breaths, “That poor girl. Only nine years old. I heard she waited by the fountain every day for her mother to return.”

Though their tones were unforgiving, and Kova felt a distinct pang in her chest when they reminded her of her state of denial when Katherine first disappeared, they held no fault. At the time of her mother’s disappearance, Kova happened to be a quickly maturing nine years old, and she did wait by the fountain each day and well into the evening for what she thought would be Katherine’s inevitable homecoming. Her childlike innocence prevailed back then, never allowing Kova the possibility that she would be left the sole caretaker of her father’s broken heart should something go awry. She trotted out each day in her best white dress, Katherine’s proclaimed favorite of Kova’s arsenal of ceremonious clothing, a bouquet of fresh flowers lounging haphazardly in the crook of her arm. Though their soft petals only just grazed Kova’s skin, the sharpness of what they began to represent over time just felt like a million tiny needles, piercing her all at the same time. She felt it a minuscule price to pay for her mother’s happiness upon seeing how much her daughter loved her after two years apart.

Despite Kova’s enthusiasm in the beginning, however, the fantasy that Katherine would one day return home ended the same way it began: slowly. Agonizingly. Certitude faded into hope, and hope faded into fear, until the fear became the gentle thrum of acceptance. At some point, going out to the fountain became rooted in more ritual than belief — a quiet routine to fill her days. Back then, Kova had nothing better to do with her hands than grip those flowers so hard the stems snapped in half. Eventually, Orion stopped funding that ridiculous ideal, and the owner of the flower stand stopped handing them out for free. It wasn’t until Kova’s dress got caught on a bush and tore from the bottom to her waist almost a year after this ritual began that she snapped out of her grief-stricken haze.

Through it all, Vinnea was the comfort. Her actions — or lack thereof — were unusual for her at the time of the funeral. Vinnea was boastful, egotistical, and brazen. Kova took her silence as an unspoken show of respect. Out of all the people in the village who gathered on that day, Vinnea was the only one present who didn’t personally know or even particularly care about Kova’s mother. The indifference towards Kova’s past before Vinnea’s arrival in her life was something the young orphan had often voiced before, but was nowhere to be found as her strikingly aureate eyes fixated knowingly on the coffin that rested dead center in the crowd. Kova wouldn’t notice until many years later that mentions of her mother from Vinnea ceased after that night. She wanted to assume it was purely for her sake, but she knew better.

The nonchalance was more manageable than the masks the townsfolk put on. She stood solemnly and silently to the side of Kova during the majority of the service while the other brooded bitterly, disappointed in her father for taking part. Though she was young, the appeal of lowering this memory of Katherine Ardontis into the ground and saying final goodbyes was not lost on Kova. The act itself meant the world to Orion for reasons his daughter could neither understand nor explain.

Kova must have zoned at at some point, because she snapped back into her body as Catio began speaking, his voice resonating through the open brush surrounding her mother’s grave.

“I knew Katherine for many years,” he began. From deep within, Kova felt the urge to roll her eyes, but she resisted. Not particularly because she was attempting to hide her distaste for the moment’s activities, but because she felt Catio’s eyes boring into her. He was looking at everyone — at least, he appeared to be — but she could feel that, when their gazes would meet, his would linger just a moment too long. The color, ever-so-slightly, would drain from his lips. She could see that, even from afar. “She was beautiful. Strong. Sweet. Kind. I’ve never met anyone like her, even to this day. But, even being all that she was, she was willing to give her life for her kingdom, and there is no death more noble than that.”

The service ended shortly thereafter, a team of Katherine’s closest friends and relatives lowering the coffin into the pre-dug grave, everyone directing their condolences, tears, and words of wisdom towards Kova and her father. Vinnea had wandered off somewhere, most likely made uncomfortable by so many public displays of emotion by so many people in such large concentration. Kova longed to follow wherever she had gone, desperate to get away from all the crying.

She scoured the woods for her sister for a while, but eventually Kova got sick of wandering the woods. She contemplated heavily the idea of going back and rejoining Orion, but an overdramatic wail somewhere far off in the distant direction of Katherine’s service got her up and moving again. After a few minutes, she began to once again call out for her sister.

Vinnea finally replied not too long after Kova’s second wind. “Shouldn’t you be back at the service?”

Kova’s sister’s voice echoed from above. A quick glance upward was all she needed to see that Vinna was hanging from a tree branch by her knees, staring down at the young nes’kär with idled curiosity. Kova shook her head, her bangs sweeping over her face briefly. “No, I’m tired of acting sad.”

“You’re not sad?” Vinnea skillfully leapt off her branch and landed beside Kova, steadying herself before pulling an apple from her pocket and dusting it off on her trouser-leg. “Your mom is, like, dead. You know that, right?”

“I used to be sad,” Kova breathed back, a shrug peaking on her shoulders. “But it’s been a long time. Sadness doesn’t last forever.”

There was a long silence as Vinnea bit into her apple and chewed for a long — almost pointedly so — time. When it passed, Kova’s sister turned on her heel and threw over her shoulder. “I think it does, sometimes.”

“Where are you going?” Kova’s tone had taken on something that resembled desperation. She was tired and Vinnea’s pace had always been quicker than hers. She didn’t want to have to jog to catch the redhead’s stride — in fact, she was feeling quite dizzy. “Hey . . . come back!”

Vinnea paused, looking back over her shoulder at the other, who had leaned up against a tree for support. “I was just heading back. Are you okay?” There was no response. “Hey, Kova, hey!”

The last memory Kova had from before she woke up at home was of Vinnea’s arms wrapping around her, shielding her from a harsh impact with the rocky ground. After that, she vaguely remembered being tucked into bed, her eyes open yet droopy, burning from the heat of tears that had already come.

#ch #ch:01

0 notes

jillmckenzie1 · 5 years

Text

Sweeney Todd at the Equinox

Caution: Includes Spoilers!

With October comes pumpkin spice lattes, last year’s limp Halloween decorations dragged back out onto my neighbor’s lawn, and gothic theater productions. Front and center of Denver’s autumnal theater roster is Equinox Theater Company’s production of Sweeney Todd: Demon Barber of Fleet Street at the Bug Theatre in LoHi. Stephen Sondheim’s opus is notoriously difficult and, well, the Bug isn’t quite Broadway, so my expectations were…reasonable. I’m happy to report that those expectations were far exceeded.

Sweeney Todd is basically a Liam Neeson movie set in Dickensian London. It looks like Les Misérables and Hamlet had a baby: An innocent man, hated and exiled by a girthy government official, returns to his city of origin. A woman needs to be avenged. In the meantime, a little blonde girl grows up. In the final scene, everybody who’s still alive dies sequentially, on stage, center-center. Sondheim’s musical deals with classic subject matter: power, obsession, sex, death, and secrets. Perfect stuff for Halloween.

We’re as obsessed with watching serial killers as they are with killing. Eighty-seven percent of podcasts can’t be wrong. Obsession gives us YoYo Ma playing the Prelude from Bach’s Cello Suite No1 in G Major. It also gives us Ted Bundy and the Darwin Twine Ball. Make of this what you will. Obsession first seeks its primary target; then it loses focus and takes whatever it can get. Sweeney Todd first seeks only to kill the judge who exiled him; he ends up killing dozens of others, his beloved, and, indirectly, even himself.

I mildly resent Sweeney Todd for having a straight-white-male for the hero, although almost all serial killers are male, so I will try to be understanding about this. (Thought exercise: How would this play be different if the title role were a female?) Sweeney Todd himself is a bit of a bore. He’s a macabre variation of the Great White Hero that made millions for Kevin Costner, Mel Gibson, Sylvester Stallone, and basically every other 180+lb actor in the guild. Mrs. Lovett, the character who was created to define the word “frowsy,” is slightly more interesting. She makes a horrifying moral choice and seems to think of it lightly. Is her decision to be pragmatic about murder a result of her perversion or of her necessity?

The plot resolves as the characters’ secrets escape. We assume that the truth always comes out in the end, but does it? How many of us take our secrets to the grave, at least until 23andMe outs us to the world? Perhaps the exceptions like Jaycee Dugard or Elizabeth Smart just prove the rule? I walk around my neighborhood and have my dark inklings about which houses could contain someone unwillingly chained up in a basement.

Let’s get on with discussing this specific production of the play. I went to see the Saturday evening performance with someone, which I considered a first date, although I’m not sure that he considered it a date at all. In a reflection of this uncertainty, I wore fancy undies, but did not shave my legs. That’s the fusion of optimism and realism. (This was my second date of 2019; on the first one, several months ago, Date 1.0 mansplained to me that the wage gap exists because women don’t work hard enough. He did not get laid. However, while waiting for Date 1.0 to show up, I ran into and casually chatted with Date 2.0, whom I had previously met through writing this column. Small world.) I mention this only to highlight the oddity that is watching a dark and violent story unfold while sitting next to someone who you are completely clueless about with regards to what they will find horrifying or hilarious. It’s a great litmus test.

Local theater can be hit or miss, but Equinox hit it out of the park. The power and pitch of the opening songs quickly reassured me that this would not be Waiting for Guffman. The cast sang with skill to match their gusto, hitting all the high notes with confidence and filling up the small stage with big characters. I have been involuntarily removed from two singing groups because of my lack of vocal skills, and so my envy for their voices abounds. The casting choices seemed to fit the characters well: Todd (Derek Helsing) is a stocky, powerful man—you could nearly feel the rage radiating off of him; Mrs. Lovett (Emily Ebertz), a redhead whose beauty was unable to be completely hidden behind the disheveled aprons. Judge Turpin is probably Phillip Seymour Hoffman reincarnated, although he’s billed as (Zach Vaughn). Johanna (Alexis Webb), the daughter, is a reasonable facsimile for Reese Witherspoon.

Sweeney Todd can be truly shocking. My notes say “Self-flagellation! I forgot about that!” followed by “Incest!—forgot about that, too!” The actors spend a lot of time sloshing around buckets of blood. You get to watch many people die on stage. You also get jolted back in time by present-day anachronisms. Dropsy! Plague! All the Victorian diseases! Freshly-shaven customers request a splash of Bay Rum, which I can only presume was the Axe body spray of the 1800’s. Sondheim’s score is ridiculously difficult. His virtuosity is ridiculously enjoyable. He serves up a bottomless mimosa of rhymes, just because he can. It’s sheer joy.

The good and the bad: Every production has strengths and weaknesses. These are a few that caught my eye.

The physical production values were top-notch; the props and set effectively conveyed the time and locations without distracting from the story. They did a great job of using the space and creating different locations on the relatively small stage. The costumes were slick, well-fitting, and well-suited to the characters. I particularly enjoyed that a female actor was cast as the beadle. There was a neat trick with the lighting that I won’t reveal here: you should go see it for yourself.

With such lovely props and staging, one choice in particular yanked at my eyes. Most of the props (buckets, razors, satchels, liquid “blood”, etc.) were real. The shaving cream and foodstuffs (both critical to the plot) were improvised. It pulled me away from the story while I wondered why. Also, the running time for this play is nearly three hours, a truly Victorian length. It supposes that you have nothing else to do but read Silas Marner and fend off the plague with Bay Rum while waiting for dropsy to kill you. It’s bladder-stretcher, for sure.

I’ll point out two moments of delight: the first is Jayce Johnson, who plays Perelli, Todd’s first victim, a competing show-off in the barber trade. He struts and poses like a showgirl, displaying the weird mix of sexiness and hucksterism required of all kinds of performers. It’s as delightful to watch as it is to listen to Sondheim’s rhymes. The other moment was the glowing faces of the cast taking their bow at the end. The joy of a job flawlessly completed was writ large. That right there is the moment that makes live theater worth the effort. Or, in this case, mostly dead theater.

Sweeney Todd runs for another few weeks. The performance I attended was sold out—for good reason—and I expect the rest of the run to sell out, too. Don’t miss this one—it’s well worth it.

from Blog https://ondenver.com/sweeney-todd-at-the-equinox/

0 notes