#nutty guys alright | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

7grandmel · 28 days

Text

Todays rip: 17/04/2024

Psy's End Stylehall

Season 6 Featured on: Transmission Archive ~ The SiIvaGunner All-Star Nuclear Winter Festival Collection

Ripped by Eva Twin

youtube

Alright, so, sure, it wasn't very long ago that I covered a PSY rip, with The World Ends With PSY. But part of why I wanted to highlight that rip in particular other than to talk about The World Ends With You, was to showcase a rip that used PSY's music in an abnormal way for rips, using it in a way we don't really see much of nowadays. That isn't because The World Ends With PSY held some secret ingredient that no rip since has been able to capture, no no, quite the opposite - its because the style of PSY rips we've gotten for a majority of the channel's life, the ones like One Winged PSYcho - V.S. Sepsyrop, like Korean Idiot, and indeed like Psy's End Stylehall, are fucking bangers. PSY is at this point more than just an artist whose music can be made into fun mashups - PSY's vocals are an instrument in of themselves.

And like, I really, truly don't know enough about vocaloid or vocaloid music. I enjoy a Lagtrain from time to time, I love rips like Rolling Start and Willievan Afton Polkka, but its still a niche that's a fair bit out of my wheelhouse. Yet its these kinds of rips that all highlight, to a peasant like me, just what makes the scene tick - the sheer energy in a song like World's End Dancehall feels like the kind of thing you'd ONLY hear through the vocaloid scene. Yet in a way, it doesn't surprise me that I find the music so inherently appealing - it feels as if there's a fair bit of overlap in enjoyment between the art of high quality rips and the art of creating vocaloid music. Both fields are, in many cases, using something not meant to be an instrument, a noise turned music through pitch-shifting and other techniques, be that noise the voicebanks of a digital songstress, or the AHHs and EYYS of a South Korean pop artist. Hatsune Miku is everywhere, she is an instrument for artists to use more than she herself is an artist - yet all of the music featuring her vocals sounds so incredibly distinct from one another. Much the same, again, can be said for PSY.

Like, you'd think one would get tired of the guy after eight years of the same bit, after having annual PSY days where we get nothing BUT rips of the same PSY samples and sounds and bits. Yet each rip manages to sound different from the last, each rip able to find so much creativity in using the guy's vocal samples to ridiculous effect - and no matter how many years pass, Gangnam Style itself still bangs!! The amount of cool shit Psy's End Stylehall in particular does is just too much to list - the slight stuttering on the "Ga-Gangnam Style!!"'s in the song's intro, the constant yet unintrusive presence of Gangnam Style's backing instrumentation, the ways that PSY's vocals are used for both the backing AND the lead melody?? It's nutty, especially in music as chaotic in pace as that of wowaka's (who was also the artist behind Rolling Girl, paid tribute to in Rolling Start mentioned earlier). PSY rips didn't take long to be elevated above just standard mashup material on SiIva, and as late into the channel as Season 6, rippers like Eva Twin were still finding novel ways to use the man's voice.

Like, the way Gangnam Style's first verse vocals play in full at a pretty standard pace, only to suddenly be as if whisked away by World's End Dancehall picking up the pace at 0:49, raising the pitch in PSY's vocals, repeating a segment of the chorus over and over...or the way the chorus has PSY sing alongside his own "ops" repeating as a new form of percussion, on top of Gangnam Style's own instrumentation, on TOP of a layer of "Eyys" in the background - this is the kind of rip that I would just ADORE to see the inner workings of, just how many layers it must've taken to make such a full sound. And like, I've covered Eva Twin on here a good number of times, I still love I'll Face Gay Bowser to death, but Psy's End Stylehall is the kind of rip that leaves me outright amazed at how layered it all sounds. I need no attachment to vocaloid to know good music - and no amount of overexposure to PSY can make his rips any worse. Unfamiliarity and overfamiliarity meet in the middle for a rip I could almost recommend to anyone, a show of SiIvaGunner's sheer quality as of its most recent seasons, and a demonstration of just how deeply its team members care about music of all shapes and sounds.

12 notes · View notes

icey--stars · 1 year

Text

Stories To Be Told: PART 24

Series Index

A shadowsinger, a warrior, an Illyrian, that's what she was. Trained by one of the most formidable female warriors. Escaped the Illyrian camps and her clipping when she was barely sixteen and is now the holder of 6 siphons. What happens when she tries to sneak into the City of Starlight? And starts down a whole new road of chaos?

a/n: this story is slowly coming to an end... not yet though lMAO

WARNINGS: alcohol and creepy asf guy, non consensual touching

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

This place was an absolute party. Rita’s was some sort of club that apparently the Inner Circle of the Night Court enjoyed going to, at least somewhat often. Mor had offered to bring me, along with the other girls, with Cassian and Azriel following in case someone got wasted and had to go home. But I suspected it was because Cassian wanted to be possessive, and Azriel–probably something along the same lines.

“Come on, let’s get a drink,” Mor suggested. “I need to be at least tipsy to be flirting right now.”

Emerie scoffed. “Alright, beautiful. Can I buy you it?” I had to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor. Damn, I thought. Maybe Emerie and Mor would become something from Starfall. I was all the way for it. They looked fucking adorable together.

Mor’s face went red and she coughed out an answer quickly, “Yes, thank you Em.”

Cassian and Nesta were already at the bar, flagging down the bartender to get drinks. Azriel lingered beside me, even as Gwyn went launching toward Emerie, a huge grin on her face. I couldn’t hear her words as she walked away. The music was just a tad too loud for that. But it looked something along the lines of and when did the little blushing thing get some claws? I rolled my eyes and began to follow after them.

“What do you plan on doing here?” Azriel asked me as we paused behind Cassian and Nesta, who were ordering.

I turned to look at him, lifting a brow. “Drinking, of course. Maybe dancing. Who knows.”

“Let me buy you your drink then,” Azriel suggested. “Can’t let you buy everything yourself. Not with me around.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why are you around?” I asked, looking at the list of drinks. That oatmeal stout looked intriguing enough.

Azriel chuckled, a little low sound coming from the back of his throat. “Because, baby, Rhys pays me a shit ton, and I plan to dote on you a little.”

A smile tugged at my lips. “Fine, but I’m still paying for something,” I said. “Some gift or something. I don’t know, but you aren’t doting on me without me doing the exact same thing.”

“Sure angel,” he said teasingly. “Now, what do you want?”

“Let me try that stout,” I said after a moment of thinking. “The oatmeal one.”

“Mmm, that one is good,” Az agreed. Cassian moved, and finally, it was our turn to get something. Azriel ordered for us both quickly, telling the bartender to put everything on his tab for the night.

Once given our drinks, I sat down on a stool at a high-level table, beside the one that had Cassian and the others. Azriel took the seat right beside me, our wings brushing against each other mildly when I turned to look at him. I tried not to shiver.

“How long has it been since you’ve come here?” I asked him, taking a nice long sip of my drink, reveling in the taste. That was the exact kind of thing I was looking for right now. Just a little nutty, and an even sweetness to it. Perfect.

Azriel hummed, looking out across the bar before turning his head to face me. Our wings brushed again. Gods, I’d have to find a way to subtly move my chair to stop that. How was he not noticing? Or was he, and just doing it on purpose? I wouldn’t put it past the sly spymaster.

“I went a few days before you arrived, haven’t been since. This place usually isn’t my kind of place. Mor loves it, obviously. Cassian comes often enough, and I hear Rhys comes here every once in a while. Mostly on a night out away from Nyx for a few moments,” Azriel explained, sipping on his own drink. Some sort of ale I think.

“Hmm,” I hummed in acknowledgement. I’d been to a club in the past. Wasn’t really to my taste, but I was fully intending on enjoying tonight. I’d heard from Mor this palace was great and quite accepting of winged individuals. I’d worn just a tight-fitting t-shirt, with the leathers that went on my lower half to match. It did wonders to show off my physique. I think Azriel noticed too, his eyes kept wandering.

“You look good,” he complimented. Ah, so he did notice.

I smirked against the rim of my glass. “Thank you.”

“My lady,” A new deep voice said from my left. I turned, looking at him. He was a classically beautiful High Fae male. High cheekbones, straight teeth, pointed ears. He had long black hair that went just past his shoulders. He was wearing a damn suit. Like a full on suit. Why the hell-? “Would you care for a dance?”

Azriel tensed considerably beside me. I lifted a brow, turning in my seat to face him slightly. I looked back at Az, unsure. Would it be wrong to do that? After everything? Oh, but I wanted to try and have some sort of experience here.

“Go have fun,” Azriel said, breaking my train of thoughts. “Then we’ll see if he can hold up to my dancing.” Oh. He wanted to set himself against this male? That- honestly… sounds fun. I distantly remembered dancing with Azriel on Starfall. It’d been fun, despite not being anywhere near as skilled or practiced.

I turned back to the male with a little smile. “Forgive me, if I step on your toes then. What’s your name?” I stood, brushing against Azriel’s damned wings again.

“Aaron,” he said, voice like silk. “And yours, pretty thing?”

The shadows began swirling faster, going up to my ears. Their voices were panicked. Don’t. The only word I could make out. But don’t what?

“Y/N,” I replied, letting him take my hand to kiss the knuckles.

“A fighter, aren’t you?” He hummed. “Your knuckles are quite rough.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling slightly. “I am a Valkyrie, Aaron. We know how to punch.” There was a cloud over my thoughts. Or it felt like a cloud. It clouded my judgment slightly.

“I’ve heard of that group,” Aaron hummed. “A bunch of females learning to fight. It sounded like fun. I almost wished I could join just to watch them in all their sweaty training clothes.” I felt a little spark of displeasure from that, feeling protective of the people I trained with. That comment rubbed me the wrong way. But that fog… it urged me to let go of that. I obeyed. My shadows started their don’t chant again.

“There’s only a few males given that opportunity,” I replied. “Our trainers.”

“The General and Spymaster–the ones you were sitting by?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s them,” I answered. He started to lead me to the dance floor, dodging a couple lost in each other’s eyes cleaning, dragging me with him.

“Your wings…” he hummed. “So beautiful.”

He went to drag a finger down them, but I moved out of the way. “Let’s dance,” I suggested quickly, lungs constricting slightly at the thought of this random ass male touching my wings. No. Hell no.

He smiled easily and we settled into a position and then whisked off into dancing. I ended up downing my drink, and Aaron bought a wine for me, insisting I needed it. Then another. And another.

A familiar song turned on, a remix of a ballroom dance Nesta had trained me in. The twirls are easy to deal with, opening my wings more so that his arm could go over them. However, I heard a fast approaching dip in the music. Aaron moved me forward a step and then I felt his arm curve over my wings as I dipped back. I froze, waiting for him to lift me up. The fabric on my wings was all wrong. The hands on my wings were all wrong. They weren’t rough with burn scars, they were smooth as a cat’s pelt.

Aaron was grinning as he brought me back up, crushing my wings to my back. “You’re good at dancing darling,” he purred. He leaned in to whisper in my ear. “I wonder if you’d be any good at riding.” The shadows screamed in unison. I couldn’t pick out their words anymore.

I caught the hidden meaning immediately and immediately prayed for the Mother to come down and save me. His hand lingered on my wing, settling on the curve instead of my hip. I glanced desperately in the direction of the table, hoping someone was watching. My shadows weren’t dancing anymore either. They were stiff, sitting around my wings and avoiding the male’s hand at all costs. Before, despite their panic, they’d been playing along. Now they didn’t even try.

He curled his fingers in, the nails dragging on the membrane as he leaned in close, pulling me close to his chest so that my jaw was on his shoulder as he whispered in my ear. “I’ve heard many things about Illyrian wings. Are any true?”

He dragged his hand up. I swore under my breath. Not from pleasure.

“Some,” I replied. “But I’ll have you know, I don’t let just anyone touch my wings. You’ll have to do more to earn it.”

“Oh… darling, I think I can earn it,” he chuckled. We turned just right so I could see Azriel. I felt for that bond in my chest, gritting my teeth behind my lips. I finally grasped the damned thread, and yanked twice.

The male dragged his hand up my wing again and I pushed against his chest, settling us into a dancing position again, but his damned hand was still on my wing. I was going to kill him, I decided, if he didn’t fucking let go. I felt the killing power begin to flow into my siphons in my rage.

“Ooo, what pretty powers do you have?” He purred, noting the glowing from the dark blue stones. “So pretty. So powerful… what would you look like under me?”

I was killing him.

A shadow came skittering to me. A familiar voice filling my ears. Only for me and another to hear. The only who could understand the hushed, garbled language of the shadows in the darkest of rooms. The only ones to listen and sing to the darkness. Don’t kill him. I’m coming.

I tried not to sigh in relief.

“What are these… darkness bits around you, darling?” He asked, curving his other palm to pick one up. It immediately leaped off and into my hair. His hand followed.

I pushed at his chest. “A secret,” I replied. Finally, his hand slipped off my wing. The one on my head remained, grabbing onto the short hair. It’d been growing to the point someone could fist it in their hand enough to get a grip.

Finally, I snarled. “Let me fucking go,” I ordered.

A voice of venom spoke from behind me. “Let her go. Now,” Azriel seconded.

The male smirked, looking past my shoulder at Azriel. He didn’t let go of my hair. If he didn’t let go in the next fifteen seconds, I was slicing his arm off.

One.

“Spymaster, what a wonderful sight. Is she one of your Valkyries?”

Two.

“Let her go.”

Three.

“Why? I think she likes it. Look at her little smile.” That smile was a damn grimace and relief for Azriel being near.

Four.

“You are hurting her.”

Five.

“She’s into that. Didn’t you notice?” Not this sort of pain-

Six.

“And how did you learn that?”

Seven.

“I asked, of course.” I wanted to scream at him, but for some reason my stupid brain remained silent. The fog was stopping me from moving. What was that fog? I didn’t know what to do. I was running off of bare instincts. Nobody touched my wings. Nobody–except Az.

Eight.

“She looks uncomfortable. How about we switch off?”

Nine.

“Then where is my new dance partner, spymaster?”

Ten.

“Go find someone.”

Eleven.

“Well, that seems like an unfair trade.”

Twelve.

“Good. Let her go.”

Thirteen.

“Go away, you’re bugging us,” Aaron dismissed.

Fourteen-

“Let my mate go or I will rip your head off your shoulders.”

Aaron dropped me. On the brisk millisecond before I hit fifteen. His arm was lucky. “You have a mate Y/N?!” He shouted.

I took a deep breathy sigh of relief, walking into Azriel’s chest. He immediately wrapped a protective arm around me. The hand went over my shoulders, carefully avoiding my wings. A good male. A respectful male. My male. My mate. Relief coursed through me so strongly I knew Azriel could feel it through that bond. I could feel a simmering anger through it. Or it might’ve been raging, but alas, the bond wasn’t that strong yet. I’d only been able to feel him when he walked over here. The shadows stopped screaming and chanting.

“Yes, now leave,” Azriel snarled. “You don’t touch my mate’s wings without fucking permission, or grab her hair prick.”

I saw Cassian and Nesta coming up behind him as I turned to face the scene again. I swallowed, jaw clenching.

“What’s the problem here?” Cassian asked, spreading his wings slightly to keep Aaron trapped and provide a slightly clear talking space. Nesta, on the inside, glared at the male with a fire in her eyes.

Aaron rose to his full height again. “Your friend is threatening me,” he accused. “Unprovoked.”

“Looked pretty damn provoked from here,” Nesta snarled. “You don’t touch my fucking sister.”

They’d seen. Azriel’s rage grew. Nesta shouldered past Aaron and took me from Azriel. Az immediately stepped forward to Aaron.

Nesta held me steady, avoiding my wings. My sister.

“You didn’t ask for permission to touch her wings,” Azriel snarled at Aaron. “By all rights, I could have Rhysand down here and have you arrested. Or just do it myself.”

Cassian chuckled. “I vote to do it yourself. I’d rather like to see what this little scrawny thing has against a trained Illyrian warrior.”

I felt a pain of guilt. I was trained. Why didn’t I escape? Why had my body just fucking frozen?! Normally I could react so well…

Cassian’s face fell suddenly. So suddenly I was concerned. One moment it was the epitome of rage, and the next it was blank.

“Move aside General,” Aaron ordered. Cassian, in his blank state, folded a wing. Azriel launched himself forward then, bowling the High Fae to the ground. Cassian shook free of his… state, and his face turned rageful once again.

“A little fucker who can use suggestion,” The general crooned. “Oh what fun. Rhys is on his way to deal with your stupid ass.”

Azriel pinned Aaron, siphons that he had on glowing brightly.

“Let me go fucker!” Aaron screamed.

“You will pay for the crimes you committed,” Azriel crooned. “Now free my mate of your spell.”

I was under a spell? That worked? Even with my shadows?

“I can’t,” Aaron chuckled, grinning victoriously.

“Explain,” Azriel yanked on one arm to a painful angle, causing Aaron to let out a yelp.

“She’ll be in that suggestive state for another few hours, especially with the alcohol,” Aaron gritted out. “It’ll wear–OW YOU FUCKER!” Azriel had yanked his arms painfully.

The people on the dance floor had moved, I noticed. A dark power rumbled through the area. I heard a few whimpers of fear. Rhysand walked in, clad in his normal clothes, but they were more ruffled than usual, as if he’d put them on quickly. No wings.

“So, Azriel, care to tell me what’s happening?” The High Lord crooned, sparing a glance at me.

“Aaron, here,” Azriel grunted briefly as Aaron jerked in his grip. “Decided to put a suggestion spell on my mate.”

“Show me,” Rhysand ordered.

The two males’ eyes glazed over for a moment before Rhys’s face curved into a wicked grin. It didn’t look to be used to convey cockiness, happiness or anything in between. It looked to be used to tell someone they’d fucked up.

“Touching someone without permission, Aaron, is illegal. Azriel, put him in a cage for the night.”

Azriel disappeared in the shadows. The mask Rhys had on fell and he looked at me. “Y/N,” he said, walking forward toward me. “How do you feel?”

“I’m fine,” I replied. “Just a little foggy.”

Rhys sighed in relief. “What did he do?”

I swallowed. “He was touching my wings.”

Cassian hissed, face scrunching up in displeasure.

Rhys looked angry. His gaze hardened, brows dipping toward his nose. “I’ll make sure he’s dealt with.” Then the High Lord winnowed away.

Nesta held me steady as I let out a sigh that almost sent me tumbling to my knees. “What the fuck,” I growled, shaking my head.

Azriel winnowed back, immediately running to support me. Nesta took a step back. I almost whimpered with relief as I felt him hold me to his chest.

“I’ve got you baby. Are you hurt?”

I shook my head.

“You wanna go home?”

“Yes, please,” I pleaded.

“I’ll get Mor,” Cassian said. “See you at home.”

Azriel pulled back. “You can’t fly, can you?”

I shook my head, leaning my head back into him. “Too fuckin’ drunk. Too much, too fast.”

“I’ve got you baby,” he promised. He scooped me up from under my legs, holding me carefully and then we winnowed into the air outside the House of Wind. He glided down, the wind doing absolutely nothing to stop the fog in my mind. It felt sort of like alcohol, but had a bit more of a different feel to it.

He carried me through the house, heading for my room. He settled me on the bed, looking at me as if he was questioning something.

“Take off your leathers,” he said gently. “Then you can drink water and go to bed.”

I scoffed. The drunk part of my brain decided to do dumb shit. “Trying to get me undressed, are you?”

Azriel choked on his next words, a surprised noise escaping his jaw as he stared at me in shock. “Fucking hell,” he sighed, shaking his head. Was that a slight bulge in his pants? Maybe, I was drunk. I unbuckled my leathers, setting them beside my others. “You’re impulsive when you’re drunk,” he noted aloud.

I chuckled. “No I’m not~”

“Drink,” Azriel shoved a glass of water into my hands, and didn’t stop glaring at me before I’d downed it, and another.

“Sleep,” he ordered, hovering on the side of the bed.

“Sleep,” I yawned. “No. I’m not tired.”

He scoffed. “What if I laid down with you?”

“Will you scratch my head?” I asked.

He tensed slightly. “Are you alright with that?”

I nodded, throwing the covers back and laying on the far side of the bed from him, facing the middle of the bed. Carefully, he slipped out of his boots and put his feet under the bed with mine, moving to hold me to his chest. He moved the arm he was laying on up to scratch at my head. It was more hesitant than before.

I hummed happily, leaning into the touch. “That asshole doesn’t know how to scratch my hair right. You do. I like you.”

“Sleep, Y/N,” Azriel ordered, but I saw a little smile.

“No-” I yawned. “You.”

“When you wake, you’ll feel better.”

“I don’t want toooooo~” I leaned forward so my face was more in his space. “I wanna do this.”

Then I kissed him.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@mis-lil-red, @bunnymallowo, @judig92, @biblophilefox82, @azzydaddy, @thegirlintheshadows101, @whatupmydudes01, @feyres-fireheart, @elizarikaallen, @xenlynn, @panzees-bizarre-adventures, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @baebeepeach, @nyctophiliiiiaaa, @brekkershadowsinger, @officiallyunofficialperson, @bookslut420, @margssstuff, @bluephoenix908, @goldentournesol, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @ladylokilaufeyson5, @graciereads, @chanaaaannel,

#azriel #azriel x reader #azrielxreader #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #cassian #nesta #emerie #morrigan #emorie #mywriting

93 notes · View notes

treetownconfessions · 4 months

Note

htfs ranked on how nice i think they'd be to cuddle:

cuddles: as his name suggests, he would be literally the fucking best. soft fur and he's warm and basically the incarnation of a plushie. i'm so mad he's not real.

pop: i want this man to lay on top of me like a weighted blanket

disco bear: same as pop+i bet he smells nice, but he loses points for the fact that he probably never shuts up

petunia: she probably smells sooo nice + soft tail

lammy: she definitely strikes me as a perfume girly which i don't care for, but i do feel like she would go out of her way to make me feel super safe and protected, which would be nice

flippy: he takes good care of himself and i think he'd be pretty respectful

mime: i think mime probably has very sleek fur that's nice to touch. but i would have to make sure i was the one leaning against him and not the other way around because of the antlers.

mole: i feel like he probably wears cologne which is not my thing but other than that it would be fine

sniffles: i think this would be a completely middle of the road cuddling experience. nothing wrong with that, but nothing super stand out amazing either.

giggles: i have no strong feelings in any direction about her

splendid: i think he would actually probably be a bit TOO warm for my taste (alien biology), but you just know this guy has a 20 step tail/fur care routine, so he definitely smells nice and has nice soft sleek fur

toothy: sounds promising in theory but i would not know how to work around the tail

handy: same as toothy plus i feel like he gets restless easily

splendont: too warm like splendid, gets restless easily like handy, and i feel like he's probably always a bit roughed up and dirty from doing anti-hero things. might be okay after a shower.

lifty: i'm so sad about this. i want to rank him higher i really do. but he is definitely filthy. covered in mystery grunge and his fur is for sure matted. he would probably be okay if he took care of himself but he does not

shifty: same as lifty PLUS he definitely insists on wearing the hat

russell: deepest apologies but i just know this man smells like seafood. probably alright other than that though.

nutty: this is another one i'm sad about because i just know he's the perfect amount of warm and probably squishes like a plushie but alas.... he is Sticky. would be fantastic after a shower.

fliqpy: on the off chance he's not covered in blood, i can't imagine him allowing anyone other than flippy to touch him. i'm not taking my chances with those teeth

flaky: unequivocally the worst. i don't dislike them but they would be terrible to cuddle. pointy quills + dandruff everywhere + i get the impression they don't shower enough + probably asks me if i'm mad at them every five minutes. i couldn't do it i'm sorry.

cro marmot: cro marmot

-ranking anon

10 notes · View notes

skyrohyucks · 1 year

Text

I'm yours

PAIRING: Vape dealer Haechan x reader

Note: I've not at all proofread this and wrote this at like literally ass crack of dawn, an old scenario I made up in my mind and haechan seemed perfect for it (also I just realized I have no haechan fics here and that inspired me to finish this and post it soon lmao)

"Alright, enough for today" Haechan says as he snatches the vape from your hand. "I've had only ten puffs, give it back", you exclaim, struggling to snatch it back from his hands. Haechan pockets the electric device which you're so eager to smoke from again. "I've agreed to do this on one condition, only ten puffs, and you did accept it so there's no going back unless you want to back out", he shrugged his shoulders as he reminded you of your agreement again and you sighed, accepting your defeat.

If you tell your past self that in a few months since Haechan joined the school you'd be vaping with him on a random rooftop as a routine, she would've just laughed and brushed it off. But here you are, sitting beside the guy, who looked so good in his messy uniform, the top button undone and open, his nutty brown locks all over the place, sitting comfortably with his legs crossed, his beautiful features at peace as he feels himself flowing with the cool breeze. It's unbelievable how a person can be so pretty, his flawless chocolate brown skin, his soft pink lips, make you go feral.

As your finals were nearing, the stress and pressure augmented tenfold. The anxiety of completing the syllabus, on top of that, the many problems in your social life has placed you over the edge. In your weakest moment, you did what you would've never thought you'd do. You approached Haechan, one of the most popular vape dealers in your school, for a vape. Needless to say, he was very surprised. You would've gone to other dealers, but something about Haechan exuded trustworthiness and a feeling of safety. You both are also in the same class, so you felt a sense of familiarity. You didn't want any risks, and so, he was your last resort.

But Haechan just didn't want to sell it to you. He didn't even know you properly, but this made up perception of you in his head: the sweet and kind girl with perfect grades, the one who always smiles around, the one without a care in the world, made it difficult for him to sell it to you. He didn't want you to end up like those addicts who can't function without a few puffs. He didn't want you, out of all people, to mess up like that. And so, he did something he never thought he'd do: make a pact for vaping with you on a random rooftop whenever you feel too stressed.

And that's how you ended up here again. The strong and sweet grape flavor of the smoke you just sucked out of the stick in your hand filled your mouth and calmed your nerves. But it was accompanied by an unexplained thrill, and an increased heartbeat, which makes you crave for more. But Haechan is always present to keep you in check. After he decides it's enough for the day and grabs the vape from you, you both just sit there, making a silent agreement to stay up here for a bit more.

All the stress in your body flew away along with the smoke you puffed out. The sky looked like a crimson orange canvas, with hues of pink complimenting it. You were relaxed, sitting over there, staring at the beautiful scene above. But in contrast to your relaxed state, you can feel your heart rate increasing. And you don't understand if it's because of the thrill the vape gave you, or if it's because of the person beside you. Your brain chose to believe the former. But your heart chose something else.

You looked at the ethereal man sitting beside you, only to see him already staring at you. His dark brown eyes gaze lovingly at you, as you swim and get lost in its warmth. No one says anything to interrupt the ongoing intense, but peaceful silence. With your heart racing at an incredibly high speed and adrenaline gushing through your veins, your hand slowly made its way to his. He didn't waste any time in interlocking them. So many words were spoken, so many emotions were silently poured. Even though everything around you might seem in a state of frenzy right now, one look at him is all you need to calm down.

79 notes · View notes

americas1suiteheart · 10 months

Note

I need need NEED that second chapter of studio recordings pretty please😭

Of course, of course. I had already been working on the second chapter so I was able to get this done quicker.

Recording Two

[Part two of the Studio Recordings Wilbur Soot x Reader series]

[Warnings; None, except some swearing.]

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

I woke the next morning, slightly groggy as I hadn't had my coffee yet.

I get out of bed and prepare myself a pot of coffee, blankly staring at it as it slowly fills up, the strong and nutty aroma filling the kitchen of my flat.

I can't help but let my mind wander to the man from yesterday that came into the studio.

His voice and playing style was so pretty, I don't think I've ever worked with anyone that has a style that beautiful.

I mean, I didn't get many customers but the ones I did get were usually teenagers that thought they could sing and compose music. So this guy compared to listening to them was an absolute godsend.

Once my pot finishes brewing I grab my Star Trek mug and pour the hot liquid into it, then setting it down to cool for a little while.

Walking back into my room I begin to get ready, throwing on one of my band t-shirts and a pair of relaxed trousers, then lastly my favorite trainers.

I finish up freshening myself up and then chug my coffee before walking out of my flat, lastly locking it.

-----------------------

I make it to the studio in 5 minutes due to it being right across from the flat building I live in.

I open up and greet Eliot, once again doing the same thing to set up as I did every other day.

I sit down in my chair and look through the recordings of yesterday, labeling them with different take numbers of the song. As I listen to them I remember just how nice his voice was.

God I really need to get a hold on myself. Do other producers and studio recorders think this?.

What feels like a little while more passes by and soon Eliot knocks on my door before opening it.

"Yo, Y/n, it's lunchtime now, let's go get some food, I'm starving, man." Eliot groans as he leans on the doorframe.

"Is it really? Jeez I didn't realize, I must've lost track of time sorry. We'll go and eat now. Same place as always I'll assume, yes?" I say, pushing myself and my chair away from my computer, then standing up.

"Yep, same as always," Eliot said as he walked to the coat rack and grabbed his coat. Me doing the same afterwards and then walking out of the building, locking the doors.

Me and Eliot went to this small sandwich shop a few minutes away from the studio every day for lunch about a month or so after he started working with me. It was cheap but good and wasn't particularly crowded constantly.

We make it and walk into the building, ordering our usual food, then paying and leaving to walk back to the studio.

As we make it back to the studio we see the man from yesterday standing by the doors with his acoustic case in one hand and his phone in the other.

He looks up to see me and Eliot, putting his phone into his pocket and straightening his posture.

"Oh, uh sorry for just standing here. I came here around 15 minutes ago but the doors were locked so I assumed you guys were on your lunch break, hope you don't mind."

"Nah, it's alright mate. Sorry for making you wait though, you must be freezing, come on in now it's heated inside." Eliot says as he grabs the keys from his pocket and unlocks the doors, letting us in.

The three of us walk in, me and Eliot place our coats back onto the rack as Eliot goes back to his seat at the desk.

I look at the taller man to see he still had his coat on, "Do you want to hang your coat up there? I'm sure you don't wanna be playing with it on, gets pretty warm in the recording area." I say, motioning to the coat rack.

He nods and then places his case down to take his coat off and hang it, then walking behind me as I walk into my recording studio.

"So yesterday you said you wanted to re-record some of those songs and then go through the tracks to see which ones you wanted to keep, correct?" I say sitting down in my chair and starting the computer back up.

"Yeah, I just want to redo three of those songs and then after that we can pick through those tracks,"

"Alright then, let me set up that mic for you and then we can get onto it." The both of us walk into the recording room.

I do the same setup as yesterday, connecting the mic, leveling it, setting the amp up, and finally going back to the control room.

Same thing as yesterday, he puts his headphones on as I do mine, he messes with his strings for a while, clearing his throat and sending me a wink and cheeky smile to let me know he's ready.

'Wink? He didn't do that yesterday, did he just do that? Why am I freaking out? Do I send a wink back?' You frantically think to yourself.

You send back a small smile instead, counting down from 3 with your fingers before pressing the record button.

He began singing again, the third song he played and recorded yesterday. It sounds more practiced now than it had been yesterday, it looked like he was having a much easier time playing it now.

His fingers danced across the strings so smoothly, you find yourself in awe at his playing skills. You had played around with the guitar yourself but never could you ever so fluidly move your fingers across the strings like that. They were always so stiff and awkward when you tried. You were better with woodwind instruments, you knew how to play a couple of them in fact including some brass instruments, a piano, and a drum kit as well, instruments were your thing but the guitar definitely was not one of them.

He finishes the song and lets out a content sigh.

"How did that sound?" He asks, taking one hand off of his guitar to run it through his messy curls.

"Sounded brilliant, are you going to want to do another take of that one?" You reply.

"I think that one sounded pretty good, I might want to record it again when we listen back on it though,"

He played a few of the songs from yesterday and then played four new ones, each take sounding amazing.

He places his acoustic onto the stand and takes the headphones off, then exits the room to go into the control room where you were.

"Those sounded great, do you want to listen back to them now and see which ones you want to keep?" You say, taking off your headphones and leaning back on your chair to look up at him.

"Yeah, of course," He smiles and gives a small nod, his curls bouncing slightly.

You pull a swivel chair up from the corner next to yours and plug the extra pair of headphones into the splitter so that he can hear the audio. He sits down and places the headphones over his head.

"Alright, we'll start with the first recording from yesterday how does that sound?" You ask, going to the page you had up from yesterday of the different takes and recordings.

The man hums in acknowledgment. You click on the first take, listening to it with him. After finishing the first one you listen to the other takes of the same song that were recorded so he can choose if he wants to redo it again or pick one he likes.

"I think I want to keep take eight, sounds much more clear and has no mistakes." The man says, placing his forefinger on his cheek in a thinking manner.

"Alright, you got a name for it so I can put it as the track name?" You ask, Deleting the other tracks as they would no longer be of use.

"Oh, uh yeah, that one's gonna be Saline Solution I think," He says, fixing his posture and placing his hands onto his lap awkwardly.

"Okay great, love that title by the way," You say, glancing at him for a second to make eye contact before looking back at the computer to replace the title with his own.

"Thanks," He says softly.

You continue on with it for a few more hours before Eliot knocks on your door before opening it, "Hey, we've got to close up for the night in about 20 minutes,"

"Shit, alright thank you Eliot," You say, taking your headphones off and standing up to stretch. The man does the same and rolls the chair back into the corner it was in before.

"Sorry for being here so long, I hadn't realized how long we were sitting there," The man smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No, don't worry about it at all, I don't mind whatsoever. I'm actually quite glad you stayed so long, we never get anyone here and this has made my job more enjoyable instead of just sitting about doing nothing." You say, looking up at him.

"Oh, I'm Wilbur by the way. If I'm going to be working with you on this I might as well tell you my name, it'd make things much easier if we were at least a little more familiar with each other, yeah?" He holds his hand out, a smile on his face.

"Lovely name, my name's Y/n," You shake his hand and return the same smile.

You soon finish up and walk out of the control room with Wilbur behind you, entering the lobby of the studio where you could see Eliot on his phone wearing his coat waiting by the door.

You make your way to the desk and calculate how much it'll cost for his hours spent there, "Alright, that'll be £411.78. Choose your poison; Cash or card?" You grin at him.

"Card, please." Wilbur says, handing you his debit card.

Declined. The chip reader read in bright green letters.

"Fuck, um, I'm sorry about that hold on let me see what I have in pounds," He awkwardly grabs his wallet, searching through it.

"Hey, its fine you could always pay it back another time when you have it, I trust that you will," You hand Wilbur his card back.

"Thank you so much, I should have the money back in a couple of days, how about I come back around when I've got the rest?"

"Y'know, worst case if you don't come back it was more so a waste of your time than anything, we're still the ones with the music." Eliot butts in.

"You're not helping Eliot, terribly sorry about him Mr. Wilbur, sometimes he forgets his manners," You say, glaring at Eliot as you watch him stick out his tongue in a teasing manner.

"It's fine, I have a friend exactly like him, it's kind of funny in fact," Wilbur says in an amused tone.

You get out from behind the desk and walk Wilbur to the door, grabbing his coat to and it to him and grabbing yours, leading him outside so that Eliot can lock the doors up.

"Right, well thank you again. Do you suppose I can get your telephone number so I can let you know when I've gotten the rest of the money to pay?" Wilbur looks at you, standing awkwardly.

"Yeah sure, let me put the number into your phone," You say. Wilbur hands you his phone and you punch in your number to the keypad, putting your name in and handing his phone back to him.

"Thanks, ill keep in touch with you about it, bye now," Wilbur smiles and waves to you and Eliot as he walks off to his car and then drives off.

You walk with Eliot to where your cars were parked and dig into your pocket for your keys.

"What on earth happened in that recording room?" Eliot says, a cheeky grin on his face.

"What do you mean?" You say, still fishing in your pocket for the pesky keys.

"He just asked for your number, and on top of that you let him just leave without paying 400 pounds, something definitely happened in there," Eliot says, leaning on your car.

You suddenly realized what he meant and was implying at, your eyes widen and you can feel your face and ears quickly start to heat despite the freezing Brighton air.

"What! No! Jesus Eliot, do you seriously think I would do that with someone I'd just met and my client too for that matter? In my own studio too? Gross, man!" You exclaim in disgust, finally finding your keys and unlocking your car.

"I'm just saying, Y/n. I mean, he asked for your number for Christ's sake! there's no way that he doesn't at least fancy you a bit," Eliot says, playfully nudging your arm.

"God you're terrible, why'd it have to be you," You say playfully before getting into your car.

"Hey! Im great you just don't appreciate it! Anyways, see you Y/n, good luck with Wilbur," Eliot says drawing out the name as he walks away snickering.

Cheeky bellend' You think to yourself before starting up your car and turning the heat on. You check your phone before leaving to see you have a text from an unknown number.

"Hey, Y/n! Its Wilbur:) " The text wrote.

You smile and save him to your contacts, making a mental note to message him back when you wake up tomorrow.

Hopefully Eliot was right, hopefully he fancied you just as you had fancied him.

---------------------------

I'm really happy with how this chapter turned out. I wanted to make Eliot seem like Wallace Wells from SPVTW, and I'm fairly happy with how his character is coming out so far. Anyways, reblogs are of course appreciated, thank you for urging me to finish this chapter up anon!

#wilbur soot #william gold #wilbur soot x reader #gender neutral reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot fanfiction #original story

45 notes · View notes

vnd5lain88 · 2 years

Text

HONESTLY cannot find the words today for absolutely anything but i need to talk to you all about how jotaro is doomed by the narrative and how it drives me INSANE all of the things i say about jojo i assume are common knowledge but please i need to say it so graphically it drives me nuts. it drives me nuts i get nutty thinking about how jotaro is fated to tragedy in every single layer in every way. from just his personality to the META. After getting to know jotaro so well his tragic character is... well it's alright. Okay, yeah, it takes a lot for him to let somebody in and he's a tough guy with a big heart. this is wonderful. him absolutely refusing to stay too close to those he loves in fear of damaging them? okay. okay its getting kind of hot in here but whatever, sure that makes for good musings. his isolation being caused by his refusal to let others enter into the danger of his own self which only drives him to further misery?? okay thats so crazy! wow jotaro! This being somewhat TRUE and his unhealthy habits and beliefs being enabled further by something as eternal and cosmic as the narrative of the story?? jesus thats crazy lol! Him being FOREVER FATED TO BE THIS WAY BECAUSE OF THE FACT HIS BEING LIKE A GREEK HERO/WHATEVER IS LITERALLY HIS NUCLEUS? HIM BEING FATED TO DIE TRAGICALLY? THERE BEING NO ESCAPE? HIM BEING DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE? BEING ... LITERALLY STUCK IN HIS WAYS? ARAKI'S WRITING ADVANCING BUT JOTARO HAVING TO BE STUCK IN THE SAME WRETCHED CYCLE? JOTARO BEING A CHARACTER WHO CAN BE USED TO WHATEVER EXTENT THE CREATOR PLEASES? HIM BEING CLUELESS TO THE ATROCITIES THAT WILL FOREVER FOLLOW HIM? IM KILLING MYSELF.

#jotaro kujo #jojo’s bizarre adventure #i need EVERYBODY to know this shut up #jjba #umm what else #stone ocean #sure #sorry for the komaeda icon #just always need to say this #i feel #like he never changed and that's what fucks me up #of course he aged you can see the effect of time on him but he never had an arc he never realized hes wrong because the story cannot allow #it i am so in love with him #jotaro is literally real to me i dont care

69 notes · View notes

sleekervae · 1 year

Text

A Pirate's Life | Pirate Radio [2]

Masterlist

A/N: Hello, it's me :). I'm back with our wet nautical noodle from sea. Hope you all enjoy

"C'mon Sally, wake up," Felicity's voice fluttered through and interrupted Sally's deep sleep. She groaned with contempt, "You promised you'd help me make breakfast, now get up!" Felicity urged.

Sally scoffed and threw the quilt down, her eyes prying open to stare blankly at the rust-riddled ceiling of their bunk room. Felicity was already hopping around on one-socked foot as she hurriedly dressed herself.

"What day is it?" Sally croaked.

Felicity sighed, "Magnificent Monday,"

"Oh, fuck that," she turned over in her bunk and pulled the quilt up again.

Magnificent Monday was an event the lads put on every six months, giving 200 contest winners -- yes, 200 people -- an afternoon to spend and tour the tanker. Sally had been around for two of these Mondays already, and she dreaded them each time. A hoard of strangers running up and down the halls, ripping through their inventory of music, crowding the sound booths, and screaming so damn loudly Sally wanted to walk the bloody plank.

"Nope! C'mon!" Felicity tore the quilt away, much to Sally's chagrin.

"Oi!"

"You'd promise you'd help me!"

"Alright! Alright!" Sally finally sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, "I'm up, already,"

The girls had been working all morning to fix up snacks for the contest winners. And sure enough, 11:30 on the nose, three large boats pulled up hauling demon-like hoards of screaming guys and girls. The lads of course were on pins and needles, egos at the ready to be stroked like their -- well, finish that sentence how you'd like.

While Felicity was finishing plating snack trays, Sally ventured out to the deck. She slid through the crowd, it was easy considering everyone's attention was pointed to Quentin as he welcomed them aboard.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to our boat of bliss!" he shouted jovially amongst the high-pitched chaos. Carl and Kevin watched from the railing, the joviality rubbing off on Carl. This was probably the most exciting thing he'd taken part in for as long as he could remember, his eyes stayed glued to Quentin as he introduced the DJs out.

"And here are your guides for the day: the Count himself!"

And true to his nature, the Count sauntered out with a cigarette between his lips, followed by the ever suave "Gavin Cavanaugh! The legendary Simple Simon Swafford!"

Simon ran out with a clown horn, the honking lost amongst the cheering.

"The magnificent Doctor Dave! Mr. Bob Silman the Dawn Treader! And motor mouth: Midnight Mark!" the pitch of excitement raised an octave when Mark appeared, as though the cheering hadn't already reached its limit.

"Our man with the news, Mr. Subtle Sectionalist himself: John Mayford!" John blushed bashfully as he made eye contact with some girls, he took off his specs to wipe the fog away. Sally found it endearing.

"And last but not least," Quentin finally announced, "Angus Nutty Nutsford!"

Angus came jumping out like a clown from a pea-sized car, however much to his chagrin, and some of the other lads' amusement, the cheering immediately died down as soon as Angus appeared. Even as Simon and the Count tried to give him some applause and praise, nothing budged the sea of unimpressed fans.

Carl jumped when Sally suddenly spoke up from between him and Kevin, "Well, that's an unsurprising disappointment,"

"Where'd you come from?" he queried.

"South Shields. And you?" a playful grin sat on her face. Carl simpered quietly, drowned out however as the screaming started up once again as Quentin rolled off the day's itinerary.

The afternoon went just as Sally had expected; throngs of starry-eyed fans running up and down the halls and absolutely loosing their minds at watching the DJs at work. And of course the lads held nothing back when it came to showing off.

When Sally explained to Carl how chaotic these Mondays could be, he thought she was being dramatic. However, he found his ears hadn't stopped ringing through the whole of his and Simon's tour of the boat.

Despite the play and debauchery going on above, Sally still had to get the inventory ready for the late night and early morning shows. So, she continued to haul vinyls by the box load between the studios while the boys had the masses occupied elsewhere. However, she was none the wiser when two young men, one a pale ginger and the other a floppy-haired blonde, slipped into the studio, eyeing the place around before they inevitably focused in on Sally flipping through records.

The blonde, a tad more confident than his ginger counterpart, quickly checked his breath and smoothed out his hair before approaching her cooly.

"Excuse me, love! Are you lost?" he questioned. Sally paused momentarily, rolling her eyes before feigning innocence.

"I don't think so," she replied, batting her lashes sweetly, "This is the DJs' booths, right?"

"Well, sure!" the ginger interjected, "But the rest of the tour is over for this segment. The rest of the party is upstairs,"

"We can take you back, if you'd like?" the blonde grinned.

Sally gasped audibly, "Wait, wait -- do you guys work here?" she asked, "Like, actually?"

"Why, of course!" the ginger leaned against Harold's stereo set up. The poor lad would have a fit if he saw the sweaty knucklehead smothering over his equipment, "We know every inch of this boat!"

His blonde mate sauntered closer to Sally, his eyes fluttering low, "You know, we'd be happy to give you the private tour, if you're interested,"

Sally would've bursted out laughing if she wasn't having so much fun putting them on. And here, she thought the lads were shitty flirts...

"Oh my God! That would be great! Except, oh wait -- I don't need a tour because I've already worked a year on this fucking boat!" she revealed.

Both of them took on the classic deer-in-headlights face, the blonde eerily silent while the ginger sputtered out some sort of retort.

"Hold on -- you work on this boat?" his eyebrows popped up.

"Crazy, innit?" Sally simpered, "And you two ain't the first twats trying to get an easy lay on these tours, neither. Nice try, though," she noted the ginger was still leaning against the stereo, "Please, don't touch the equipment,"

The ginger scoffed bitterly, however his mate had a different idea. After all, he was a man and this girl, though harbouring a sour attitude and dressed in ragged slacks and fuzzy pull over, was very pretty.

"Well, then -- how about you give us the tour, instead?" he suggested, "You probably know all the best secret spots on this tin can, eh?"

Sally rolled her eyes, "You couldn't pay me enough," despite her exterior confidence, she didn't like the dark shadow in this lad's eyes. And he towered over her, and even if she screamed it was slim to none that anyone with any common sense would hear her and come to her rescue.

"Oh, c'mon lass. Don't be that way. We won't bite ya too hard," he assured.

Carl meanwhile slipped into the studio, at Gavin's request to fetch his fedora. However, neither the strange lads nor Sally noticed him slip in. But it didn't take a rocket scientist to see these boys were trying to gang up on her.

"I said no," she huffed, "Now buzz off or I'll have you thrown overboard,"

"Oh aye?" the ginger simpered, "You and what army, eh? It's just you and us in this sodded shit hole,"

Carl's mouth moved before he could think straight, "And me!" he called.

The three of them turned around, all of them equally surprised to see Carl standing there. However Sally couldn't hide the relief on her face when she met his gaze.

"And who are you? The janitor?" the blonde questioned.

"Reckon he's here to swab the deck," the ginger grumbled.

Now, Carl wasn't the best when it came to confrontation. He'd been that way all his life, whether it came to school ground bullies or fessing up to his mum about his illicit extra curriculars, confrontation and being confronted turned Carl into a babbling mess. Still time however was different; he held his head high, straightened out his posture to take on some thread of authority. Though he supposed these boys probably had a few years on him, anyhow.

"I-It doesn't matter who I am," he started shakily, "What's important is that my -- shipmate," he pointed to Sally, "Asked you to leave her alone. A-And you'll do bloody well to do as she asks,"

Despite her slim hopes, Sally hung her head, figuring she was doomed. She admired Carl's effort, but he was about as threatening as a beach ball.

The blonde almost began to laugh at the scrawnier boy, "You tryna make a funny? I'll snap you like a toothpick," he took a step forward, to which Carl immediately took two steps back.

"You come within five feet of me and I'll be out the door and telling Quentin about what you sods are trying to pull before you can even get your zippers down. He'll be more than happy to kick you off the boat,"

That however seemed to get their attention. And Carl did have a point; he was close enough to the door he could make a mad dash and find someone who would really mess up the lads' day. Sally awaited anxiously, her gaze flickering between the two lads and Carl.

The boys glanced to each other, as though sharing the same thought and started for the door, "Fair enough, mate. We don't want no trouble, eh?" the ginger assured.

"She's all yours," the blonde spat begrudgingly. They sauntered out without another word. It was then Carl's shoulders dropped and he could visibly relax. He'd never had the balls to stand up for himself in a fight, though he supposed standing up for his friend was a different story. He couldn't fight for shit and he wasn't very fast, but like hell he would've let those lunatics have their way with Sally.

He turned his attention to Sally, who continued to stay put on her spot, watching the door like a vicious hawk. Carl approached her cautiously and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. That took her out of her headspace immediately.

"Are you alright?" he asked her.

She nodded quickly, her anxious frown replaced with that fronted grin, "Yeah, I've dealt with worse,"

He wanted to smile and join her, but his chest ached a little at that. Sally had regaled him with a couple stories of her father's beligerance; those two sods were likely a walk in the park in comparison.

She then did something he didn't expect; Carl was nearly thrown off balance as Sally hugged him tightly. Her actions betrayed the content expression on her face, and he hugged her back.

"Thank you, Carl,"

The rest of the peanut gallery tour had gone off without a hitch, save for the fact that Mark had persuaded more than half of the young ladies to join him in his room for some nautical sexual saturnalia. Needless to say, Carl was overcome with disbelief and a spark of jealousy as he peeked past a confrontational, albeit impressed Quentin as he told Mark and the ladies it was time for them to leave.

Summer was just around the corner, though spring continued to cling on with its frigid ocean breezes. The lads were having a round of cards in the mess hall, trying to recover from their previous night of drunken debauchery on the town while Gavin was smack dab in his broadcast. Carl had taken instead to spend some time with Sally. They were sequestered in his room; leaving the door cracked open mind you so the lads passing by wouldn't get any ideas.

Carl was sat up against his pillow, legs crossed while he fiddled with his lighter. He was silent as he listened to Sally read aloud from Dune. Her typically harsh Northern accent was softened, dripping like sweet honey with a performative quality in her tone.

His eyes flitted over the pilling fabric hairs hanging from her jumper collar, picking out the golden highlights in her hair, and glossing over the cuts and scratches in her knuckles. She appeared so sweet, a side of her Carl imagined not many of the lads got to see. Sally was relaxed around him, she herself would admit it was easy to be so around Carl. Perhaps because they were so close in age she didn't feel so looked down upon like she did with the other men. Nobody on the boat had ever taken an interest in Sally's books and life the way that Carl had; she appreciated him immensely for it.

A predatory look filled the old woman's features. She lifted her right hand away from the box and poised the hand close to the side of Paul's neck. He saw a glint of metal there and started to turn toward it.

"Stop!" she snapped.

Using the Voice again! He swung his attention back to her face.

"I hold at your neck the gom jabbar," she said. "The gom jabbar, the high-handed enemy. It's a needle with a drop of poison on its tip. Ah-ah! Don't pull away or you'll feel that poison."

Paul tried to swallow in a dry throat. He could not take his attention from the seamed old face, the glistening eyes, the pale gums around silvery metal teeth that flashed as she spoke.

"A duke's son must know about poisons," she said. "It's the way of our times, eh? Musky, to be poisoned in your drink. Aumas, to be poisoned in your food. The quick ones and the slow ones and the ones in between. Here's a new one for you: the gom jabbar. It kills only animals."

Pride overcame Paul's fear. "You dare suggest a duke's son is an animal?" he demanded.

"Let us say I suggest you may be human,"

Carl simpered under his breath, though loud enough for Sally to take heed. She turned to him curiously, "What? You find maniacal old women with poison needles funny?" she asked.

"No," he shook his head, "I just -- you know, you get really into the story. It's more fun when you read it," he replied.

Sally fought hard to let her lips turn up in a smile, a fight she ultimately lost as she glared at him, "Well... gotta' find some way to make you pay attention, don't I?" she countered.

"You don't have to do much," he let slip.

She averted her eyes back to the page, desperately skimming for her lost spot and praying Carl wouldn't notice the red tinting her cheeks and nose. Carl meanwhile tried not to squirm in his seat, internally scolding himself. He hoped he hadn't sounded like a major sod when he spoke.

Sally finally found her place again and was about to start reading, when there was suddenly a soft knock at the door. Carl sat up and Sally scooted away as Simon peeked his head in, his smile reminiscent of the daft dwarf from Snow White.

"Hey guys!" he almost sang.

"Simon," Carl stood up to greet him, "What can we do for you?"

"Well, Carl... my mate... my best mate," Simon took him by the neck, "I've got some news! I don't know why I'm singing, I can't even -- the words are coming out in tune! I'm so happy!" he looked to Sally who was doing her best not to laugh, intrigued and elated nonetheless to see Simon so excited.

"If I were the Count right now, I would definitely use the F-word to describe the level of this good news!" he started singing again, and Carl began to laugh, "Oh, come hug me! Come hug me, lad!" and he pulled the younger boy in for a hug.

"What is it?" Carl finally asked.

The disbelief was still clear in Simon's eyes as he turned back to Sally, "I'm getting married! To a woman!" and how hard she tried not to let the smile sink from her face. Simon had met a woman? When? Where? How?

When Simon had gotten his faculties together and his singing under control, he had rushed up to the mess hall to announce his nuptials to the boys. Of course, they applauded him as soon as he had announced it, while Mark couldn't seem to give a flying you know what as he lit up his cigarette.

"And give her one for the Nutster!" Angus called out.

Simon, rightfully so, shook his head, " -- I-I won't,"

"Well, what's the lovely lady's name?" Gavin asked.

"Elenore. She's an American!" he boasted.

God help us, Sally thought to herself.

Quentin had appeared in the doorway as the hype had settled down, "Well, I hope you all appreciate what this means? From next Saturday there will, for the first time, be a woman living on the boat. No offence meant, ladies," he nodded to Sally and Felicity.

"Oh, none taken, Quentin," Sally grinned scornfully.

"Me neither. I'm actually quite excited about it," Felicity added.

"Now, hands off, you lesbian!" Angus scolded at her playfully. Sally kept her mouth shut as the lads made some smaller quips and jokes.

Quentin continued, "But Elenore, of course, will be totally exclusive to her lucky husband here. I hope you gentlemen can take it," and he sauntered off again.

"For my eyes only!" Simon bragged.

"May I just say --" the Count cut in, "now that Quentin has departed, one word which I believe is the only word that now matters? And that word is..." he stared at Simon with a mischievous glimmer in his eye.

Simon nodded calmly, blushing nearly as he spoke, "Matrimony,"

He was close, as the Count suddenly shouted "STAG!" garnering cheers and applause from the rest of the boys. Carl of course was intrigued, his mind spinning with all the options of drunken debauchery they may get into.

As the hype died down, everyone's attention turned back to Angus. He had poised his hands on his head, fingers splayed out as he rocked back and forth and made the most obscene noises. Everybody was perplexed nonetheless, and Sally began to laugh. It took a moment before Simon could register what it was Simon was trying to do.

"Oh, he's a stag!" he realized, "I thought he was having a seizure! He's okay. He's fine!"

#tom sturridge #young carl #pirate radio #the boat that rocked #the sandman #the sandman netflix #original character #original content #60s movies #film blog

21 notes · View notes

bo-bo-bean · 6 days

Note

now how do the Tree Friends feel about the Critters?

Lumpy: DogDay is so fun! He has a leadership personality that I want!

Toothy: DogDay is a great guy! I know if I met him in real life, I would hang out with him more.

Handy: DogDay does his best and him losing his legs and still wanting to help others? Heck, that's ambition.

Lifty: He's so sneaky and I would LOVE powers to make people sleep. I could rob so many banks.

Mole: Since he doesn't talk much, but purr sometimes, I like the sounds he makes. And it's easy to tell who it is.

Cro-Marmot: ...

Giggles: Hugging and loving and kindness and friendship!! She's basically me!!!

Petunia: She's so positive! Plus her necklace is very pretty.

Lammy: She's so fun! Wanting love and peace, it's adorable!

Sniffles: I relate to Bubba Bubbaphant very much. Brain over emotion is the way to go, sometimes, according to scientific studies. But I also admire his keen sense of memory.

Pop: Aaah, Bubba is fun! I know this is for kids, but his design is so friendly!

Mime: *makes balloon flower and gives a thumbs up*

Flaky: Um... Well I love her voice... It's so sweet and light, like... Like very sweet. And she's very creative....

Flippy: I LOVE her because she's a unicorn, my favorite animal! Her voice is so adorable and her art is amazing!

Disco Bear: CraftyCorn reminds me that you can just be you and be accepted by not your looks, but passion. She helps me understand that my softer side can be allowed... You're not recording this, are you?

Russell: The matey is very energetic! Bouncing around, here and there! Ha! I'm pretty jealous!

Cuddles: I NEED his energy he has! Maybe I do! Nah, I definitely do! I wanna challenge him to a mountain climbing race, we would get along so well!

Splendid: I think Hoppy is very fun! He doesn't let his skills get in the way of friendship, which is very lovely.

Fliqpy: This game is for kids. "Ooooh possessed dolls, oh no, he's not there." Pfft, big tough shit right there. But... I guess Kickin is alright. His voice grates on my ears like a rusty tank, but he's got bravery I guess?

Cub: Chicken!

Fliqpy: This game is for kids. "Oooh, haunted dolls. Oh no, he's not there when I turned around...! Uh oh, this spider mother fucker is angry that I broke in." Big fucking whoop. But... I guess the chicken is okay. Kickin, that's his name, yeah? He can be brave... Sometimes. More than many soldiers, I can say.

Shifty: I relate to Kickin. Not because I'm scared sometimes! But because he's cool and brave and badass!

Nutty: I WANT TO BINGE WITH PIGGY, WE'LL BOTH HAVE SO MUCH CAKE AND COOKIES AND SODA AND LICORICE AND GUMDROPS AND BUBBLEGUM AND DANISHES AND CHOCOLATE AND CANDY CORN AND COTTON CANDY AND LOLLIPOPS AND BROWNIES AND CHEESECAKE AND CHOCOLATE CAKE AND VANILLA CAKE AND STRAWBERRY CAKE AND

Truffles: Piggy is cool...! He or she is definitely our guilty pleasure of eating food. Who doesn't like food? We need it to live.

#happy tree friends #htf #smiling critters

5 notes · View notes

ajgrey9647 · 3 months

Note

Send me a △ and ask a really invasive question aimed at my character:

Towards your Quad Life version of Drakkon: If the Coinless Jason og re-emerged from the deepest recesses of Red's subconscious in the aftermath of the foursome marriage, how would he (and subsequently the younger men) react?

Inside the Character’s Studio

A la ‘Inside the Actor’s Studio’…

The stage is set with our beloved ‘Quad Life’ cast seated side by side in their personalized actor’s chairs. From left to right we have with us: Drakkon aka David (sometimes) aka ‘bad ‘Tommy’, Coinless Jason Scott (CJ) aka Red aka Jamie (on occasion), Prime Universe Tommy Oliver, the White Ranger, and Prime Universe Jason Scott, the Red Omega Ranger.

AJ: Good afternoon, all! This is AJ Grey, your wild and crazy fanfic author in the Power Ranger’s universe. I don’t often get to sit down and chat with my guys, but thanks to this lovely Tumblr prompt, here we are! It’s nice to get a chance to talk one on one without having to hurriedly scribble down what you all are doing…

Drakkon: Yeah, that’s a little perverted and creepy. Just saying…

Tommy: (hisses under his breath) Shut up, dude, and let the lady talk! Damn! Like you probably rethink saying that about anyone else…

Drakkon: (rolls eyes) I never said that it was a bad thing, White Ranger.

AJ: Annyyywwwaaayyyssss…… We opened the ‘asks’ for questions related to my endearing OC’s. That’d be you, ‘David’ and ‘Red.’

(AJ opens an envelope the color of a robin’s egg)

AJ: (grins evilly) And the first question is for you, ‘David’, you nutty son of a bitch!

Drakkon/David: (gulping Mountain Dew and nearly chokes in surprise, eyes wide) For me? How charming! I wasn’t expecting one, to be honest. Most people hate me and for good reason, I know. I thought ‘Red’, our lovable… what’s the word? Oh, yes… whumpee… would be the man of the hour.

(He blows a little kiss to ‘Red’, who blushes shyly and looks away.)

AJ: (gives a low whistle after reading the question inside) So, that means you’re open to answering? Because this one’s a doozey!

Drakkon/David: (grins like the Cheshire Cat) Go for it. I’m not used to taking questions from anyone besides the usual ‘Why are you doing this to me?’, ‘Why won’t you just kill me?’, or ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ This will be a lark….

AJ: Alright. From my pal, Augment-Techs: To Drakkon, if the Coinless Jason (OG) re-emerged from the deepest recesses of ‘Red's’ subconscious in the aftermath of the foursome marriage, how would he (AJ looks to Prime Tommy and Prime Jason), and subsequently the younger men, react?

(All four characters look at each other nervously, unsure what to say)

Tommy: (laughs a little with anxiety) Dude, you might be fucked if that happens….

(The others chuckle awkwardly. ‘Red’ fidgets with his hands in his lap.)

Drakkon/David: (glares at Tommy) Excuse me, Thomas, but the question was directed at me. Hmmmm…. That is a very ‘loaded’ ask… and is rather coincidental considering our hateful little scribe, AJ, just commissioned another piece from Skyland of my darling and the little duckling together… The rough line sketch was just precious…

AJ: (clears throat) Are you going to answer or just deflect? I think you know you might be up Shit Creek, but we’re all waiting for your response to Augment’s question.

(‘David’ narrows his eyes at AJ before lowering his head and appears to be considering the implications of CJ’s return. ‘Red’ slowly reaches over and pats his forearm.)

Drakkon/David: (sighs softly) We’ve all had this conversation quite a few times, to be honest. No one is really sure what, if anything, CJ might be aware of during everything that’s happened. He could be watching and listening, though if he is, we don’t know why he isn’t communicating with us. How he might react hinges heavily on that consideration.

(‘David’ pauses and his hand covers ‘Red’s’, which is still resting on his forearm.)

Drakkon/David: If he is aware of all that has transpired between the four of us, he would see the evolution of both ‘Red’ and I and our relationship and how we’ve changed for the better since coming here. That doesn’t mean I expect him to forgive me and continue on as before as my partner. I would have to accept that he may want to venture out into the world on his own since he would recognize and be comfortable in the Prime Universe. It’s like his life before I infected it.

(He pauses again, his expression becoming sad and troubled at the image of CJ/Red leaving. Tommy and Jason also look forlorn.)

Tommy: (softly) We’d all accept and support his decision. It’s only right. All of us are together by choice and he isn’t a prisoner anymore. The sight of Drakkon and I might repulse him.

Jason: I would hope that ‘Red’ might have a head’s up or awareness that CJ was ‘waking up’ so they could stay away and let me talk to him first. In either scenario, I think that would be the best for him and for their safety. Particularly if he ISN’T aware of our group relationship. Coming back and seeing two Drakkons could cause him to react violently.

Drakkon/David: Jason is the closest approximation to CJ that we have even without him experiencing the trauma I inflicted. That’s where it’s a grey area though. What I did was heinous and changed him profoundly even before ‘Red’ came into existence.

Jason: I know how I would respond or how I think I might. But he went through things I’ve never conceived of doing to someone and of course, that would greatly alter my mindset.

CJ/Red: (speaks up gently, a corner of his mouth twitching) Alter…

(The others grow quiet and look at the grey-haired man, who slowly looks up from his hand covering ‘David’s’ forearm.)

CJ/Red: That word… I know that’s what I am. An alternate personality. A hijacker, a parasite maybe. This body isn’t really mine because I was never meant to exist. And here I am living this beautiful life now while CJ might be stranded in my head somewhere suffering. It isn’t fair to him. (sniffs) I got a second chance, a new life after torment, after being a monster…

(AJ passes over a box of tissue)

CJ/Red: (dabs his eyes) Thanks… (sniffs again) I really think he’s in there somewhere. He’s not ‘gone’. When I learned the truth about myself after ‘David’ and I came to this universe, I could literally feel his rage and agitation drifting around my head like snowflakes. Those feelings were not ‘my’ feelings, though I obviously was feeling the same.

(Drakkon lifts his arm and puts it around Red’s back, rubbing between his shoulder blades.)

CJ/Red: I was created to keep CJ alive, by being a good pet and avoiding further physical and mental damage. But I lost my way and turned into a demon. If he was aware of everything, then he could see what I’d become and what I did. I’m afraid he would be angry and ashamed of me. Then when I made the choice to stay with Drakkon instead of killing him, beating his ass better, or running off, I stayed with him, knowing what he did to CJ and how he deceived me…. He would be disappointed.

(Jason gets up from his chair and moves to stand behind ‘Red’, wrapping his arms around him in a tender embrace. He kisses his temple and whispers loving murmurs in his ear.)

CJ/Red: I don’t know for sure, but just from what I felt when I learned the truth, I think he still exists and maybe he DOES have some awareness of the outside world. When I couldn’t take the rage, guilt, shame, and embarrassment a minute longer, I… ‘spoke’ to him, well, I HOPED I conveyed to him what I was feeling. I asked for some grace at that moment in time and the ‘other’ emotions seemed to fade.

Sometimes, I feel like I ‘carry’ CJ like a frightened child, which isn’t really that far from being true, I guess. He was an innocent kiddo underneath that Ranger uniform. He was 17, which to me in my 40’s, is waayyy too young, that’s still just a baby. And his… our… parents are dead along with any other family and friends. He’s missed out on his formative years and so much life experience. Maybe that’s why he lets me stay in the driver’s seat. Perhaps CJ sees me as the ‘adult in charge’? I don’t know…

Drakkon/David: If CJ were to ‘wake up’, regardless of his knowledge, at the very least I could give him a proper apology before he tears me a new one. He may not believe it, but he deserves to hear ‘I’m sorry’ from me, something he probably never imagined I would say. Not as I was when he knew me. And at the time, I was incapable of feeling guilt, remorse, love, empathy, or compassion. That was only after Red and I arrived in the Prime Universe. I could see the error of what I’d done even if I’m still a grouchy dick the majority of the time.

My darling is a resilient, loving, talented, and sweet man, as no doubt Tommy and Jason will agree. What evil he says he committed was only due to my orders, not his own volition. And I feel positive that CJ would know that and place the blame where it is properly due.

(AJ nods in agreement.)

Tommy: (nuzzles ‘Red’s’ other side) Red is very kindhearted, the caregiver of our family. I know that would count for a lot with ‘my’ Jason so CJ would see that too, even if he’s upset initially. And I would hate for him to look at me with terror, that my face would be hard for him to look upon. Because I love Red deeply. And as Drakkon said, I have no doubt that CJ gave him hell, that he was incredibly strong and brave. He had to be… Because he LIVED.

I think Jason’s right. Drakkon and I would have to give CJ space, leave him alone with Jason and let him decide what he wants. With no pressure or anything from us.

CJ/Red: (feeling better with so much love surrounding him) We also don’t know what CJ waking up would mean for me. Would we just switch places with him existing in the world with me along for the ride? Would I fade away or pop like a bubble? Would he and I find a way to coexist together?

Drakkon/David: From what I have read in my research into ‘Red’s’ condition, it is possible for he and CJ to integrate. Essentially, what could happen is that his sense of ‘self’ will have both sets of memories and personality characteristics. Often, an alter will have a similar function or role or attributes that makes it easy for them to come together. Or they can remain separate in a sort of ‘co-consciousness’ and work together.

Jason: (hugs Red tighter) No matter what happens if that day comes, it won’t change how we feel about you. We will always love you and support you and CJ. If he is aware, I hope that he can hear us and know that he is welcome too.

Tommy: We don’t want CJ to feel that he can’t come back because he isn’t wanted or missed or loved as much as Red is. That simply isn’t true. We might have to learn how best to support him in his healing and how to avoid inadvertently causing him distress, but I know we are all willing to do that.

CJ/Red: (smiles) Even ‘David’ has taken steps and put in the work to deal with his own trauma and behaviors. I think that would count for something too with CJ, that ‘David’ can face his issues and admit guilt and remorse and a willingness to change. He didn’t have any of that back in the Coinless Universe.

AJ: (sniffles) That’s why I love you guys. Even you, asshole. You’re learning. You all are. And you are there for each other, protect each other. Oh, and of course, you do stupid shit that makes me laugh.

Drakkon/David: I think you’re just there for smut….

AJ: So? Do you really care? I give you guys free reign. You even override my authority as author when it suits you!

(They all shake their heads dramatically.)

AJ: I write about other shit too…. Don’t forget I just write what you all are doing so maybe take a cold shower or two and I wouldn’t have spicy scenes to write.

Drakkon/David: Hell no! Unless its with ‘Red’ or Jason. Or both preferably….

AJ: Alright then! It’s been fun, but I’m gonna go grab the garden hose. If we get more questions, we can reconvene up here and shoot the shit… Till next time!

#lord drakkon #boom! comics power rangers #power rangers #ao3 author #world of the coinless jason #jason scott #coinless jason #ao3 fanfic #tommy oliver #lord drakkon x tommy oliver x world of the coinless jason scott x jason lee scott #the quad life #quad relationship #ask the characters #invasive questions

4 notes · View notes

da-bestest-writer · 8 months

Text

Baki next gen part 4

Six weeks had passed since her birthday, And already Tomoe has been making great strides. Though her father wasn't teaching her any techniques for the time being, That was because he was getting her into shape.

Strength training, Legs, Arms, Core, Heart, All of it worked to to the depths of her ability to work them. And even beyond.

by the end of each day, Tomoe was exhausted.

Had her birthday not begun on the first day of sumer vacation, Her mother would have had a fit with regards to how much she'd have fallen behind. Too exhausted to do much of anything beyond lie down and sleep when she got home.

however, Though she didn't realize it herself, A miraculous transformation had occurred to Young Tomoe's body, Before she had begun her training, She was unimpressive, And even a bit below average in regards to fitness among her peers.

but now, Her body , while still maintaining a healthy weight for someone of her youth, Was visibly powerful, The musculature in her shoulders would strain slightly against her flower print shirt, Similarly her legs looked like those of a well practiced sprinter.

In just six weeks of training with her dad, She had gained a physique that would make even the boys in her school's Wrestling, boxing, karate and judo clubs hesitant to bully and berate her as they had before summer break!

Tomoe wasn't all that quick to notice, There was a certain someone she had to greet.

She would spend the early hours of the morning, After jogging to school for the very first time to find this friend and give a friendly 'hello'

200 cm tall, Weighing 140 kilograms, He was strong as a bull... No, Stronger! He was brave as a lion...No! Braver!

Though she hadn't the bravery to admit it to herself, Let alone him, he was the object of her desire for as long as she's known him, From the fourth grade til now... And his name was...!

"Hanayama!"

"ah, Tomoe, Good morning" Spoke the young man, Keisuke Hanayama. Glasses adorning his eyes, As his custom made school uniform draped across his strong body. There was no doubt to those who knew of the japanese underworld, That this was indeed the son of Kaoru Hanayama.

But then, Tomoe did not know, How could she when her parents had hidden the truth away from her, She only knew that their fathers were friends, Even now that she knew of her father's sordid history, the connection didn't register in her mind.

She would quickly catch up to him. and walk in comfortable silence, Keisuke was a gentleman of few words, Only ever saying what really needed to be said, And she admired that in him. Among a great many other things.

As they walked though, She had a question burning on her mind.The kind of thought many girls her age had when they were around someone they admired.

"Notice anything different about me?" She asked, She had not a signle clue of how much she transformed, But even so, With as much effort as she put in, there had to be something she wasn't noticing.

"Well, You seem more confident." He said softly as he walked side to side with her."You're holding your head up higher."

For Tomoe, That's all she needed to hear, A compliment validating the effect her training had on her. she would keep walking with him ,Feeling secure in their silent friendship.

They would split off when they had to go to their respective classes. The day moving along as normal, However. After class...

"Hanma!" Spoke out one of her upperclassman, The captain of their school's boxing team. one Yosuke Satou, He, Along with the leaders from the Karate and and Judo clubs.

"uhhh, Hey?" She asked, confused, These guys never even knew her name before, And now here they were. Approaching.

"We saw you on TV last night... " Yosuke spoke with a degree of indignance, As the Karate and Judo club leaders stood behind him, Like lackeys in a bad movie. " You're the granddaughter of Yujiro hanma... "

"Yeah? He's my grampa alright, Pretty nutty guy huh?" She asked, Feeling strangely relaxed. Normally she'd be hiding away from these guys, They were notorious for throwing their weight around.

"Yeah, Well, We just wanted to let you know, Your win against Dade was just a fluke. No girl could have beaten him without cheating or some serious beginner's luck. You're just a girl, So you'll never be stronger than us.

Now, Tomoe wasn't the kind of girl to search for conflicts, As much as her mind wanter her to just laugh it off and walk away , Her body had a different response.

"I'm already stronger." Those were her words, She didn't know she was the one saying it until she registered the voice speaking those words was her own.

"huh? The fuck did you just say?" Asked the Karate club leader with a snarl, Whelp , there was no getting out of this.

"I'm already stronger than you," She did not know if she could prove those words, But there was a strong desire within her to find out if she could.

She would get her wish, As Yosuke through a jab straight for Tomoe's face, which she had managed to dodge with ease, Making the boy slam his fist into a locker and damaging his hand

She would move behind him, Her face and breath calm... She didn't know what was coming over her here, While in the ring with a bigger stronger man, Her ability to dodge was deffinately a fluke, Even her dad said so.

But now here she was, ducking under a kick, Sidestepping a punch, blocking a palm strike, All while lacking any training beyond proving her strength and stamina.

"Quit running away!" Her opponent said,as she was grabbed by the boxing leader by the boxing club's leader.

Yosuke would plant a punch in her guy, making her quiver and weeze. She had never been hit in the stomach before, She never knew it could be so painful.

The pain as the air in her body was pushed out, the way the pain spread to her chest, She couldn't breethe, Couldn't think, And especially coulding react as she took a fist to the jaw.

But on sheer instinct, She turned with the punch, Giving her the time to get her wits about her at least, While still reeling from the lack of air she would stomp the foot of the man holding her back, Distracting him from a headbutt to the nose.

the leader of the boxing club went down , his nose busted, But before she could get any reprive she was tackled by Yosuke. Hey! That's not a Karate move!

She wanted to say that, But she was still feeling abour ready to throw up, If she opened her mouth she probably would, And that'd be really gross.

when she was taken to the ground, that's when the leader of the judo club came in, He and Yosuke began to stomp on her while she was down... These damned cheats!

Where were the teachers? Why wasn't there anyone intervening? It felt like she had been getting stomped on for hours, But the reality was, only about thirty seconds passed.

You see, Pain has a tendancy to eloingate time in the minds of those suffering from it, A migrane can make a second feel as long as a minute, A minute as long as an hour, To say nothing of how long an hour feels should such a thing last so long.

And now, Tomoe hanma was in the most pain she had ever felt as she was kicked while she was down, Spat upon, And mocked by the boys who used cowardly methods to get here in the first place.

#baki hanma #baki the grappler #oc: Tomoe hanma #OC:Keisuke Hanayama

7 notes · View notes