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pillow-anime-talk · 10 months

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his talented baby. {pt.2}

synopsis: You as a person with a huge (and hidden) talent, and also a person who really surprises your boyfriend.

# tags: scenarios; current relationships; romance; some comedy; big fluff; some PDA; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. sebastian michaelis & undertaker {kuroshitsuji} + josuke higashikata & rohan kishibe {jojo 4}

part one {click}

— SEBASTIAN (ft. chess)

Sebastian was perfect in everything; in cleaning, in cooking, in playing various instruments, in foreign languages, in gardening, even in singing and dancing. There was, however, one thing he couldn’t achieve fully well, and that was the game of chess.

Of course, he defeated others (I mean here; Grell, Agni, Bald or Finny) with ease, but when you offered him a game one day, his so far intact worldview changed dramatically. Eventually he found someone better than himself, but at the same time he felt so damn frustrated that he couldn’t win against your person. You were better than him, than Ciel, and even better than Mr. Tanaka, who was almost equal to him and the young lord.

“... Your move, Sebastian.” You announced by moving the bishop to the field of your choice, taking his black rook at the same time. “Are you going to give up, my love?” You smiled gently as you took a sip of delicious English tea with the perfect amount of sugar. The man looked at you in response, frowning and looking at the chess alignment after a short while.

“No. Everything is fine, I just need to think for a moment.” He said calmly, though his face expression seemed to hide the urge to swear. “I am impressed with how quickly you made such a confusing setup, darling.”

“Well, well. My grandpa taught me to play. As the saying goes, the student has surpassed the master.” You chuckled as you put your chin on your right hand while looking at the fingers of your man surrounded by white gloves, who decided to move the king to space F5. “Maybe someday you will surpass me, who knows?”

Sebastian stared at you out of the corner of his eye, nodding in delicate, almost invisible amusement.

“Maybe someday, dear. For now, I will give you the honorable title of the best chess player.”

— UNDERTAKER (ft. drawing)

Drawing has been your passion since you remember and you loved to paint literally everything; still life, nature, huge landscapes, other people, animals, and even things that didn’t make much sense (Picasso was one of your biggest inspirations when it came to cubism). In addition, in your bag you always carried your favorite blue sketchbook in which you drew tiny thoughts or things you noticed while walking, working or drinking coffee in a cafe.

That day, however, you were sitting quietly on one of the chairs in the funeral parlor, and the Undertaker was also sitting nearby – he was writing names with concentration, calculating in his mind the number of deaths in the last month and year.

His calm face was really handsome from your perspective; the faint light of the lantern caressed his pale complexion, and his green eyes full of mischief stood out behind his fair hair. Every now and then you glanced at the tall man, then your eyes focused again on the small notebook whose pages were blank. I mean, they were not all empty; some of them had sketches of dogs on them, others sketches of flowers, and others featured the figure of a tall Grim Reaper.

When you finished your illustration, you smiled and nodded, satisfied with your work. A beautiful play of light, self-confident pencil strokes and small additions in the form of ivy and rosemary beautifully composed the whole black-grey picture of Adrian.

“Excause me, darling...?” You whispered hesitantly, not wanting to interrupt his work. Nevertheless, the man quickly looked in your direction and a wide smile appeared on his face.

“Yes, my little flower.” He asked, instantly standing up and forgetting about the paperwork – you were definitely more interesting than the dead, after all. You showed him your drawing with a slight blush on your face and he opened his mouth in slight shock. “It’s me?” You nodded, and the Grim Reaper just chuckled. “Am I really THAT handsome?” He joked and you just rolled your both eyes. A short time later, Undertaker praised your talent, asking if you’d like to hang some of your sketches on the board next to the entrance.

— JOSUKE (ft. playing drums)

More than five years ago, you and your three friends started a music band. Since then, you’ve been focused on making your dreams come true, on small concerts played in the Morioh, on school performances, also on learning notes and practicing singing. You were the drummer and leader of ‘CR△WL’; your vast musical knowledge, willingness to develop your passion and daily rehearsals aroused great admiration from the rest of the band and from people who watched your slowly growing career. Of course, Josuke was no exception, on the contrary – he considered himself your biggest and most faithful fan, who with the greatest pleasure went on dates with you to music shops or bookstores with records of old bands.

The young man was delighted every time you played the instrument – just like years ago in your garage when you first played ‘Paranoid’ by Black Sabbath for him. He was smitten and would come over to your house to listen to your covers or help you make a video for your YouTube channel (you were pretty popular for tutorials, trivia, and drum videos).

“...Y/N, Y/N. Would you be able to play this song?”

That day, Josuke visited your house once again. Your mom made you two some snacks, and you grinned as you practiced another song for an upcoming concert at one of the smaller festivals this summer. Your boyfriend seemed to be excited like never before, so you asked what is the title of mentioned song. Hearing the familiar words, you just smiled, nodding your head in response.

Instantly, your both hands and right foot began to beat the drums, which making the dark-haired teenager’s face look very surprised.

“Y/N... You really know every song on this planet!”

— ROHAN (ft. rapping)

Karaoke, bowls full of ice cream and fruit, carbonated drinks, hot snacks and great company were what you’ve been missing for the last few weeks. Focused on studies and work, you didn’t have time to rest properly; but you finally met with your closest friends and you also took Rohan with you.

You had a great time gossip with besties who talked about changes in their lives and new achievements, for example, at work. You were telling about your experiences as well with a huge smile, while Rohan was sitting right next to you, talking to some people from time to time. He wasn’t interested in large gatherings, but he couldn’t say ‘No’ to you either because you were too sweet that evening.

Suddenly, one of Cardi B’s songs was played in the background and you almost squealed.

“Ooooh, I see that someone want to sing, huh?” The blonde haired girl asked, and you just laughed, thanking her for the black microphone.

Rohan almost spit at his new shirt as soon as you started rapping the verses without any problems, without even looking at the screen where the lyrics were displayed. You had a great time dancing a bit in the middle of the small room. You looked at your partner with a smirk, sometimes sending a kiss or wink in his direction. You were literally in your world; you showing your energy and love for music so perfectly.

Rohan was really surprised.

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rotten-pomegranates-fics · 1 month

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Beast

𝖀𝖛𝖔𝖌𝖎𝖓 X 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Yandere uvo x afab reader

Warnings: size difference, slight pet play, dub con, Noncon, power play, tell me if I missed anything👍🏻

Notes: this is just a little bit inspired by headcannons that holydayaria where it said uvogin would let reader switch punishment for sex and I am literally writing this at like 3:00am so I hope y’all like it and if you don’t box me (ง'̀-'́)ง

Word count: idk cuzz my app for word counting wont work

You couldn’t believe this, being on your knees for him, being on your knees for your kidnapper, being on your knees for a monster

It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last, you know it but you don’t think you could handle being starved, or beaten or worse things that you couldn’t imagine, so here you are on your knees for uvogin waiting for him to come back and have his way with you

You jump when he walks in, he towers over you with a height you didn’t think humans could be, you where so lost in thought that you must not have heard his rather loud foot steps,“hey princess, are you ready?”, his voice is sickly sweet like he’s a high school bully about to rip up your homework and he’s rubbing it in your face first

All you did was take a nap, but he wasn’t happy you weren’t waiting at the door when he got home, if it was up to him you would be at the door with a tail wagging like a puppy so he gave you the option of punishment, he didn’t go into detail just punishment or you could let him do whatever he wanted to you in bed and you wouldn’t put up a fight, not that it would make a difference if you did put up a fight with his size and strength

You would have choose punishment over this most days but after the last punishment of being out in his garage and not being fed or even being able to use the bathroom in anything but a bucket he left you, you just couldn’t handle anything that would last more then a day, you didn’t doubt that you would be sore after this though

He walks over to you and places a heavy hand on your head to slightly tilt you up to look at his tall form, and you do look at him, you look at him as if he was a god and you were a lamb that just got sacrificed, not to mention the fact that you could see he was already partially hard

“Open up” he holds your head a bit harder,as if to let you know not to fuck up now, you let your mouth open and your tongue roll out and paired with having you look at him through your eyelashes you were just about the cutest thing in the world

“Shit” he says under his breath. He takes his other hand and starts to takes his cock out so he can put it on your face, he wasn’t just wrong he was thick he had weight

He wiggles your head around a bit more and you take the hint to start to licking his base and balls like the good little pet that he wanted “yeah good girl” he jerks his hips against you and you feel him twitch on the side of your face

He yanked you away and gripped your hair to yank you up quickly, it was to sodden, to fast it hurt “get on the bed” he let go of your hair and you quickly scamper to get on the bed so you could lay down and wait for him

He left the room for a minute before coming back with lube, he could never go in without lube, he liked hurting you to some level but without lube he might rip you in two, he gets on top of you and cages you underneath him

You weren’t ready, but he didn’t care he shoved his finger in you, you shout out in pain like a injured animal, who knows that might as well be what he sees you as “haha so small squeezing my fingers nice and tight” you looked up at him with teary eyes and it was only turning him on more and more by the second, of course he was

He lets out a booming laugh when he struggled to force another finger in your delicate body, you weren’t made for this, you weren’t made to be forced into stuff you didn’t want and you definitely weren’t made to have stuff forced in you “I think that’s enough, you think that enough sweetheart?”

He wasn’t really asking, just another way of scaring you “n-no please I’m not ready yet, just a bit more?” You jerked into him hopping to convince him “just a little more master please?”

“Ohhhh honey, you don’t get privileges when your bad and prep is a privilege” he pulls his fingers out and gets the bottle of lube to put a large about on his hands to lather his cock with it

He rubs his fingers up and down your slit a few times to get the rest of it off before his big angry red mushroom tip is pressed against you coin sized whole that wasn’t meant for something of his side

He started forcing it in and you swear this was the most painful thing he’s ever put you through, he’s broken bones, ripped your hair out and even let Feitan have some fun with you while he went away with the troupe. the first time he made you take him at least he prepared you enough that you didn’t feel like he was ripping you in half

“God baby your gonna snap my dick off” he gives a hard thrust that shakes your whole body and you try to kick and get away

The burning on your cheek brought that to a swift stop though, he had slapped you and when you looked up his eyes were dark looming over you like you were prey about to be devoured

In some sense you were, he was bigger, stronger, faster then you in every way shape and form there was nothing you could do if he did want to devour you

“Damn baby I was gonna go slow but I don’t think I can” he starts a rough pace and your only way to seek comfort is to cling to his biceps like your life depended on it, in this moment it felt like it did

You could feel him bumping your cervix and he wasn’t even in all the way, your definitely not walking for the next couple days

“Fuck yeah I’m about to cum” his pace keeps picking up and you don’t think you can take it for much longer “rap your legs around me now!”

He always got you to do that, you could never fully rap your legs around him but it still made him feel good so he made you do it

“Oh yeah keep it all in, take it” his hot ropes of fun where painting your walls white and you could feel that knot inside of you tightening to

You never wanted this to happen but you know your body’s gonna betray you like it had done all those times before

He was riding out his high when the knot snapped and you could feel yourself twitching around him and letting out a loud moan

“Did you just-“ he looked down at you with a confused face before it turned into a mocking smile full of teeth “haha you did to, this isn’t what I had in mind but at least ya get a good orgasm outta this”

All you could do was look down in shame while he pulled out to watch his thick cum deep out of you right before he fucks it right back in

Right when you roll over to try and get away from him and sleep the sorrow away he yanks your foot down the bed taking your whole body with it

“Oh sweetheart that was good but you didn’t really think we where done did you? No no I didn’t forgive you yet”

He truly was a beast

#uvogin x reader smoking #hxh uvogin x reader #uvogin x reader smut #uvogin x reader #hxh uvogin #uvo x reader #uvogin #hxh uvo #yandere uvogin x reader

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cerealkilleratmidnight · 10 months

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A few kids were gathered around in one bundle, Billy was curious as to what was going on but he wasn’t curious enough to approach the circle that was forming. Then he saw who it was in the middle of the circle, full attention on this one child. He appeared to have a cast or something. ‘Oh that must be why all of them are so interested, someone broke their arm and everyone is amazed’ Billy sighs as he moves his head from afar, trying to see the boys face to make out who it actually was. Some adult joined the gathering as they tried their best to make the kids leave him alone or something, some left as their attention was occupied with something else that was plain and boring. Now Billy could see the boys face. ‘Huh? It is Stu, when did Stu break his arm? He was fine yesterday?’ Billy looked around , waiting until the boy was alone before approaching him, he made his way over.

Stu knew him and they hang around a bit already before, but still Billy was shy. He stops as he stands in-front of Stu, Stu looking at him with his expecting eyes as he waits for Billy to say or do something. Billy moves his arm, pointing at Stu’s cast on his right forearm. Stu blinks as he looks at his cast and then where Billy is pointing at , before he speaks:

“Ooh… yeah I got a cast yesterday! I broke my arm” he says , voice chipper and unbothered. His smile wide as he moves his arm up to show off the cast to Billy.

“Pretty cool! People been drawing on it all morning and-“

Billy interrupts him as he speaks quietly, it probably wouldn’t have been heard over Stu talking but Stu reacted to it so quickly , immediately shutting up.

“Did it hurt?” Billy speaks with his quiet voice, not looking up at the boy.

Stu’s eyes wander as he musters Billy, before the smile reappears.

“No not really!” He says proudly.

Billy gives out a small huff as he stares at the cast, he hits his fist against it with a bit of force, making Stu squeal.

“Ow..” He mutters as he retracts his arm. Billy chuckles for a split second.

“So it did hurt! “ Billy says with a stronger voice than before , happy that he proved a point.

“Well yes if you hit it, it hurts! Ow…” Stu seems a bit hurt by the fact that Billy would just hit it like that. The two share some awkward silence for a while until Stu speaks again.

“Do you …want to sign it?”

Billy’s eyebrows furrow as he examines the poorly written on names and drawings on his cast. He seems to think about it before he nods. Stu takes out his sharpie as he lends it to Billy, who takes it and starts to scribble something on it. Stu is quiet as he watches Billy draw something on, a scrawly looking face. When he’s done he gives Stu back the pencil without further comment. Stu moves his arm closer so he can see what Billy drew.

“Woah you can draw! It kinda looks like that dude from that Halloween movie” he says as he smiles at Billy , who actually smiles back as he nods.

“Is it from the Movie?” Stu takes his nodding as a cue that’s Stu guessed right, even if it only was by chance (definitely did not look very much like Micheal Myers) since he watched that movie with his sister a few nights ago and had it on his mind ever since.

“Micheal Myers” the boy simply replies. Stu grins.

“I loved that movie !!” Stu exclaims.

That’s how Stu would learn the fact that Billy is obsessed with horror movies , making it his mission to watch them all behind his parents back in an attempt to get to know the quiet boy better.

I see them as being around 10 years old maybe? Had to think about it randomly so why not try and write it down, I always like writing but I never really think I’m good at it nor am I satisfied with it. There are probably so many grammar mistakes and all but still. I wish dyslexia would not exist :)

largely inspired (and the thought originally sparked) by @sharpth1ng fic Butterfly eater (hope it’s okay that I tagged you, don’t want to annoy you 🙇🏼‍♂️)

#scream 1996 #stu macher #stuilly #scream #scream art #billy loomis #fanart #my art #scream fanart #ghostface #billy x stu #young billy loomis #young stu Macher #oneshot

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rogerswifesblog · 1 year

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Stacy’s mom

My Masterlist

A/N: inspired by the song “Stacys mom” and our conversation @jamneuromain 😋 it was very spontaneous and I wrote it in a few hours but…It was kinda fun🤣 so let me know how you liked it! I’m thinking about a pt 2! (Yes I know I have thousands series and one shots planned and am still working on the bingo drabbles but…I like writing most of my things depending on my mood😋)

Summary: Steve knew he was in trouble walking into his friends house and seeing her mom.

Pairing: highschool!Steve Rogers x Stacys Mom reader

Warnings: stacys mom reader, older reader, age gap, Steve is 17/18 but reader and him don’t interact then besides some teasing, masturbation, underage drinking

“I think we should choose the second topic. Benefits of daily exercise and how to incorporate it into your routine. Let’s be honest, I’m the real life example”, Steve laughed, sitting with Stacy in her living room on the floor, in front of the coffee table. It was the first time he was at her place, needing to finish a project that was very important for the grade.

A few months ago his asthma became much better and his many asthma attacks stopped, making it possible for him to exercise. Puberty finally hit him and he got a growth spurt, growing nearly ten inches in just a few months. He was still lanky, but happy about not being the shortest in the class anymore.

But with puberty also came acne, his forehead and cheeks were covered in small and annoying pimples. He used extra creams to get rid of them, which slowly helped.

“That’s a good idea. Maybe you could talk about your experience…how it affected your health and body”, Stacy thought about it for a second before taking some notes. “We can-“ The slamming of a door made Stacy jump slightly, so did Steve.

“Are you stupid?! I said no. It’s tomorrow and not in a week do you hear me? You’re not going on any stupid trips with your new wh- oh I will call her what I want! You dirty cheater-don’t you dare not show up tomorrow-” a woman’s voice carried through the house, the clicking of heels coming closer as you walked into the kitchen, Stacy and Steve watching you as you opened the fridge, not even noticing the two teenagers.

“For fucks sake, I have all rights being mad at you. We were together for-” They both didn’t listen much further as Stacy started talking about the project again, but Steve wasn’t listening to her either. His gaze was glued to your form, dressed in an expensive looking suit, the red-bottomed heels making your legs look incredibly hot, your butt- “Steve, are you even listening?” “Of course I do. Yes. Definitely.-“ “yeah? What was I talking about?”

“….could you…maybe repeat it?” Steve felt himself blush a dark red, his face burning with shame of being caught checking out her mom. That was definitely embarrassing.

Even though he started working on the project again, he couldn’t stop himself from peaking over at you. You were still turned with your back to Them arguing on the phone.

“She’s probably talking to dad again. They argue a lot now with the divorce…I don’t blame her. Of course I love my dad, but he did her wrong. They were married for nearly twenty years and he cheated on her-from what I’ve heard it wasn’t the first time or at least it wasn’t a one time thing”, explained Stacy, seeing as Steve was looking over to the kitchen.

He blushed again, nodding slowly. “Sorry, I just thought we’d be alone. It’s a bit distracting-“ for other reasons that Stacy might suspect. “I can tell her to go to her office or bedroom. They’ll probably argue for a long long time…”, she sighed, already standing up. Steve immediately followed her, shaking his head, “no, no. It’s fine. We can just take a break for now-maybe order something to eat? Your mom maybe wants something too…”, he felt himself blush again, as Stacy walked to the kitchen, Steve following her.

“Hi mom-could you please talk a bit quieter? I told you Steve’s coming over today. We have a project”, said Stacy walking into the open kitchen. “But we’ll take a break now-order something to eat. You want something? A pizza? Thai?”

Hearing your daughters voice you lowered your phone, turning around to look at her, your gaze falling onto the young blonde boy watching your every move. He seemed…mesmerised. He extended his hand to introduce himself properly, making you smile lightly as you ended the call without saying anything else and took his hand. “Nice to meet you, Steve. I’m sorry you had to hear this. I’m usually not such a bitch it’s just my soon ex-husband makes my blood boil” You laughed quietly.

Steve chuckled too. You could tell it was a nervous chuckle. You imagined he may have liked your daughter and was stressed of meeting you, her mother.

“Just order the usual pizza I like and take some money from my purse, I’ll go change into something more comfortable.” With that you left the room and seeing how Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of you he knew he was in trouble.

The next time he saw you was only three weeks later, once again at stacys house. After working some more on the project they both decided to sit at the pool and sunbathe a bit. When he noticed the lawnmower at the gate seemingly unused since the lawn wasn’t taken care of. “You need help with the lawn maybe? I can take care of that”, said the young boy already standing up and walking over to the lawnmower.

Stacy wanted to argue with him about not needing to do so, but he did anyway. It’d only take him a few minutes and he liked the idea of impressing Stacy’s mom, you.

When he was nearly finished you walked out of the house, a towel wrapped around your body, the strings of a black bikini wrapped around your neck. And when you dropped the towel-he could burst. Your body was incredible. You were already a bit tanned, your curves dressed only in the bikini, your thighs moving against one another, the thick flesh wiggling with every step, making him want to bite into it.

Jesus. He really shouldn’t be thinking about things like that or he’d soon have a problem that needs to be hidden.

You were incredibly beautiful, your breasts and stomach looking so soft. He could see some stretch marks, but they only made you even more attractive.

“You missed a spot over there, Stevie sweetheart”, you teased him, noticing how he stopped concentrating on his task. He felt himself blush, a small smile creeping on his lips as he nodded and kept going, this time a bit more concentrated.

You couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him a bit more, since he watched you Everytime he walked by, so you took the sunscreen and started applying it on your whole body. Stacy didn’t notice any of it since she had her eyes closed. Besides you tried to make it look like you weren’t doing anything on purpose-especially not then you stood up and started applying the suncream on your legs, bending down and showing off your legs.

A grin crept on your lips when you heard the Grill being knocked over. It was your ex husbands anyway.

After finishing mowing the lawn he quickly excused himself to the bathroom, closing the door and immediately leaning against the text wall, pushing down his swim shorts. His hardness springing free. He didn’t waste any time before spitting in his palm and wrapping his fingers around his length, stroking himself hard and fast.

He tried to keep his moans quiet, but still couldn’t stop the gasps escaping his lips, especially when he started imagining it wasn’t his hand on his dick. He thought about your soft skin against his body. Your thighs wrapped around his slim waist-or even better if he’d fuck your thighs. Your meaty legs would feel amazing, squeezing his dick. Maybe you’d even let him finish like that. On your stomach and tits-or Steve you’d let him fuck your pussy without a condom, letting him feel your velvet walls. Your wet and tight curb gripping him tightly, your moans would be so soft and sweet.

Before he’d let himself come he’d make sure to get at least two orgasm out of you. Maybe one with his mouth or fingers, then on his cock…then he’d love to shoot his load in you. Filling you with his seed.

The thought was all he needed to come, shooting his load all over himself. Thank god he managed to push his shirt up just in time before making a mess.

He felt ashamed wiping off his cum from the bathroom floor before walking back to the pool, where his heart's desire sat.

It was a fantasy. He knew. He definitely had no chance, being only a teenager and especially being friends with your daughter.

But having a fantasy didn’t hurt even a bit, right?

He loved watching you whenever you moved or walked around the house. Your house quickly became a place he visited at least once a week, always working on the project. But the worst was happening-well, two things. One, the project was slowly coming to an end and you had a date.

It’s not like he had any right to be jealous, but…still. Watching you getting all dolled up for some guy made his heart tighten. You always looked beautiful but seeing you in a beautiful light blue dress, with a low cleavage, showing off your shoulders and collarbones made his throat dry. The dark, black choker you wore made you look a bit like…Cinderella.

A smile crept onto his lips as he thought about it, quickly looking down not to get caught.

He wished you looked this good for him. He wished he could take you out on a date, have your soft hands wrapped around his arm.

But he couldn’t take you out. He didn’t even have the money to do so.

Sighing he opened his textbook again, taking some last notes.

Maybe one day he could at least buy you a bouquet of the most beautiful roses…

The project was finally finished, only two weeks later Stacy and Steve had everything ready to hand in and decided to have a nice and relaxing evening together drinking some beer which…Stacy asked you to buy. Surprisingly Stacy said you had only chuckled at that question and actually bought a few.

In all These weeks Steve and Stacy got closer, but only in a platonic way. Stacy had tried to flirt with him at first, but it changed quickly. He couldn’t tell exactly when but at some point she just stopped.

And now they were just sitting in the backyard, drinking beers, both on their third ones.

“Steve…I wanted to ask you…have you a thing for my mom?”, not expecting this question Steve choked on his beer, immediately coughing and spitting his beer all over himself.

“Wh-what?”, he croaked, shaking his head quickly. “I-I'd never-no. Of course not. That’s-That'd be…that’d be weird. I’m mean-it’s your mom-“ Stacys laugh interrupted his rambling.

“I knew it. You’re not very subtle with all the question you know? Is your mom back from the business trip? Is she away for work again? Do you think she likes roses or sunflowers more? You weren’t subtle. Not at all, Steve. At first I was really weirded out, but…I guess we all have some weird crushes at some point, you know? We’ll go to college soon, anyway, so you’ll get over it”, she shrugged, making Steve blush with every next sentence.

He took another big sip from his bottle, looking to the house for a second, where he could see you walking around the kitchen, preparing dinner. “Yeah…’s just a crush”, he mumbled, not wanting to tell Stacy how much he actually liked you.

But she was right. He’d probably get over you soon. He’d meet someone at his new university…

But did he really want that??

This thought stayed in his head for the rest of the evening, his chest feeling incredibly tight knowing it may be the last time he’d see you.

Slightly drunk Stacy and Steve walked back into the house, seeing you had left the food for them on the counter. They are quietly, not wanting to disturb you and after both laid down-Stacy in her room and Steve in the living room on the pull-out sofa. Even tho he was comfortable and surrounded by your smell he didn’t feel any peace. He couldn’t fall asleep, his mind was racing.

You yourself had eaten earlier before taking a bath and walked into your bedroom to go to sleep early.

But of course you were awoken by your small bladder, needing release. Sighing you sat up, straightening your nightgown in case the kids were still outside or still awake. Then you walked out of your bedroom, wrapping a silky robe around your body.

You did your business quietly, washed your hands and looked a bit tiredly into the mirror. A sigh escaped your lips. You were getting old, weren’t you? This year you turned 36 and it showed. The wrinkles around your eyes couldn’t be hidden anymore. Your skin wasn’t as smooth as it used to be. Your body wasn’t the same anymore, you had stretch marks, it was hard to stay in shape, especially with your limited time since you were always busy with work…

You sighed again, putting your night creame once again on. It wouldn’t change anything overnight of course, but you still hoped it’d slow down the aging. It’s not like you looked bad or really old-you weren’t even that old, if you had to be honest, but….you’d love to be twenty again, for one night at least.

Leaving the bathroom you walked quietly through the room, being stopped when Steve stumbled out of the living room, looking like he was in a hurry-at First you thought he wanted to go to the bathroom but when you stepped aside to let him through, he only stepped closer to you.

Your gaze fell for a second on his bare, slim chest. He gained a bit muscles since you had last seen him at the pool a few weeks ago. He looked cute. Not that it mattered. It’s weird you were even thinking like this.

“Give me a chance”, he mumbled, making you furrow your eyebrows, a little wrinkle appearing between them. “What?” “Give me a chance…I-I’ll try to be the perfect guy for you. I could be-I just-I need to finish school-and co-“ You shook your head, now understanding. “Steve, Steve, stop-We can’t. I can’t…you’re just drunk. You gotta go back to sleep, okay?”, you smiled kindly, slowly wrapping your fingers around his wrists and pulling him with you to the living room, pushing him into a sitting position.

“I mean it-you deserve a guy like me. I’ll be perfect for you-I know I’m still young but-“ “exactly Steve. You’re young. You could be my child-your friends is my daughter, okay? I’m really flattered by your attraction but…it’s not right. I’m sorry, Steve, you need to go to sleep now. And let’s just ignore this conversation, okay”, you tried to be gentle with your words but still saw some tears well up in his eyes.

Hesitatly you stepped between his legs, wrapping your arms around him and pulling into a hug. His head immediately rested against your stomach, right below your breasts as he sniffed quietly. Not wanting to make it any harder for him…and maybe also yourself…you pulled away.

While leaving the living room your couldn’t stop yourself from looking over your shoulder at him, meeting his gaze. You immediately looked away again and walked to your room.

This time it was much harder to fall asleep.

In the morning you quietly made some scrambled eggs and beacon, trying to ignore the feeling rising up in your chest when Steve woke up from the smell and a smile appeared on his lips, you noticed it, because you were watching him from the open kitchen. You could see him perfectly. And it broke your heart.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, feeling a bit of a headache, especially remembering the conversation with you. Oh god. Had he really did it? Said he wanted to be with you?

You noticed how Steve blushed and when he looked up at you, your eyes meeting, your own face started burning. As quick and nonchalant as possible you looked away.

Only a few minutes later Stacy came to the kitchen and you sat down together to eat breakfast. All this time you tried to ignore Steve even though you still felt his gaze on you.

After finishing the food it was time for him to leave and stacy decided to drive him, so she quickly went to her room to get ready. Meanwhile steve stayed with you in the kitchen, putting the dishes away.

“About yesterday…I’m sorry. For everything…I still stand by it, but I shouldn’t have be so pressing-“ “Steve, don’t worry. I get it…in a way, at least. You’re a very sweet boy, but I’m too old for you. It can’t happen”, You explained friendly, smiling at him before looking once again.

You felt Steve step a bit closer to you, the warmth of his body radiating. “Is…is there really no chance? Not even a small one? Please…”, he whispered, his hand gently touching your arm.

Steve noticed how you got goosebumps as soon as he touched you. A nervous chuckle escaped your lips as you patted his arm gently, yearning Stacy walking down the stairs.

“Yeah, sure Steve, come back when you’re twenty one”, you joked quietly, stepping away again just in time for Stacy to walk into the kitchen. “Okay-we can go!”

With that Steve looked at you one last time before disappearing. Not only did he leave your house that day, but also walked out of your life forever.

Or so you thought.

In the first few weeks you had thought about him more than you should. About his pretty smile and the beautiful blues. About his graduation and which college he chose. About if you’d ever see him again, which you knew you shouldn’t.

Months later you stopped thinking about him so often. There were a few evenings where you thought about him, sure, but less and less…

And then the years went by and Steve became one of Stacys old highschool friends that she hadn’t talked to in a long time.

So it surprised you to say the least when you heard the doorbell, interrupting your quiet moment of reading. You were so concerned on the book you jumped slightly, putting your book down and walking to the door. In this time the doorbell rang again. “Jesus, so inpatient…”, you mumbled to yourself, opening the door.

Your breath hitched.

Your heartbeat immediately speeding up.

In the first second you didn’t even recognise him.

He was bigger. His shoulder so broad you weren’t sure if he’d fit in the door, taller than before and…a beard. Wow.

He changed a lot.

But his beautiful eyes stayed the same. The same bright blue.

“Steve? What-“ “You said to come back when I’m twenty one…so, can I take you out on a proper date now?”, he interrupted you, holding out his ID for you to look over.

He was indeed twenty one. Today was his birthday.

Pt 2

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limarieb · 7 months

Text

(shades of) maroon

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff x (implied) fem!reader

Summary: The development of your relationship with Wanda from its glorious beginning to its bitter end. (Inspired by 'Maroon' by Taylor Swift.)

Warnings: strangers to friends to lovers, fluff... to angst, no happy ending (this is my weak attempt at writing angst), character death

Word Count: 6.2k

Author's Note: im still in the process of writing new stuff, so i hope you can enjoy some old writing from my ao3 in the meantime... also, requests are still open!

Main Masterlist | ao3 | Wattpad

...

When the morning came we, Were cleaning incense off your vinyl shelf, 'Cause we lost track of time again, Laughing with my feet in your lap, Like you were my closest friend...

The stench of alcohol plagued the air surrounding you. You were not one to drink much, but Tony insisted on organizing another party — what was to be celebrated, you never really figured out. As the moment thirty minutes had passed since your arrival, the several shots you had done with Natasha were beginning to take effect. You were not drunk yet, but the shots definitely acted as a stepping stone. Beneath your skin, an underlying buzz was being contained.

You were talking to Natasha about the latest news in your life, considering the two of you do not always get to talk as much as you do since she is constantly on missions across the globe. As you raised your cup to your lips, you realized it was too effortless to lift. You excused yourself, making your way through the various attendees to get to the bar for a refill.

When the bartender asked you what you wished to order, you requested your usual: "Vodka Coke, please."

You remained where you were, but you elevated your left arm vertically enough to be placed on the counter. Slightly leaning, you use the angle to reach with your right hand into your pocket to retrieve the phone being stored there. Before you could, however, an unknown voice seemed to acknowledge you, "Interesting drink-of-choice... most go for a Rum and Coke."

You turned around, expecting to find out who this opinionated person is. What you did not expect, though, is said person being a beautiful brunette. Her eyes were one of the brightest shades of green, but they were dulled by the dark eyeliner outlining her eyes. The lengthy, brown hair cascaded down her back and shoulders. You even admired her sense of style; it was edgy — to say the least — but still very fashionable in your opinion. "I like to think I'm interesting," you began. "Otherwise, I'd be boring, and that's no fun. Even so, I refuse to accept that vodka is not the better one, especially compared to rum."

She let out a small laugh when you added a theatric gag at the end, showing your distaste for the latter drink. It was a bit dramatic, but you would do it again just to hear that laugh once more. With a slight smirk forming, she returned: "Coming from a place of people who praised that drink on their hands and knees, I am sure that I'm obligated to agree."

It was your turn to provide a chuckle at her joke, "Russia?"

"Close," she replied, tilting her head from left to right. "Sokovia."

Within seconds, the mood dampened a bit. You saw the numerous news reports of what had happened to the small country: ultimate destruction. There was a sharp intake of your breath, confused about how to properly respond in this situation (especially when you are intoxicated). The girl began chewing on her lip, which you assumed to be a nervous habit due to your lack of an immediate reply.

Once you finally opened your mouth, the bartender returned with your glass. You wrapped your hand around the glass, lifting it to take a sip. It was relatively sweet, yet it still contributed to the increasing levels of liquid courage.

The awkward tension was still present between you two. You could have simply left and returned to Natasha; instead, you opted to ignore it before she had the chance to leave you at the bar. "So," the word started to become drawn out. "Wanna get out of here?"

Her eyes widened, evidently thinking something entirely different than what you were expecting. "Not like that! I just mean, do you want to hang out at my apartment or something, instead of here? It's quite loud, and parties aren't really my thing, anyway. I just come because the alcohol is free. You don't have to, of course, but..."

The anxiety was starting to overpower the liquid courage, causing you to trail off as you finished your question; you left the hope that she accepts your offer to come with you unspoken. Finally, you could see the smile return to her face, removing most of the nervousness from your body. It was small but there nonetheless. "Ok," she agreed. "Under one condition, though. I want to know your name."

"Y/N. But, I'll also need to know yours."

"Wanda. Wanda Maximoff."

"Well, Wanda," you placed your now empty glass back on the counter. "We better get going."

Nothing necessarily happened that night. It was purely innocuous fun away from the overwhelming crowd at the party. Nonetheless, it was still one of the best nights of your life. You put some records on the turntable that sat on your bookshelf, allowing your favorite songs and scents of incense to fill the room. Wanda sat at the top of your bed with her back up against the wall. She was busy observing the decorations in your room, inferring the various quirks you possessed.

The two of you talked about many things that night. In the days after, you preferred to blame the openness on the alcohol; however, you knew it was because of her. It was simply easy to talk about anything and everything with Wanda. The Sokovian even shared some of her own stories, albeit with some difficulties. You ensured her it was alright if she didn't want to share, and she admired the respect you gave.

That is not to say it was all sad, traumatic memories being shared. You found out a few things about Wanda when she is tipsy and tired: she can be quite the comedian; she likes physical touch if she is comfortable with the person, resulting in the legs that were laying on your own; and her accent — which is incredibly enticing, you might add — becomes more prominent.

It was like you two had known each other since childhood; if another person had been present, they would assume you were best friends. And, honestly, you wouldn't disagree.

That was the night Wanda had both entered your life for the first time and risen the ranks to "best friend" status.

How'd we end up on the floor anyway? You say, "Your roommate's cheap-ass screw top Rosé", that's how, I see you everyday now...

A month had passed since the night of Tony's party, otherwise known as the night you befriended Wanda. You had seen each other practically every day since then, specifically in the evenings when you do not usually work. A few significant developments had taken place since then, including — but not limited to — the Sokovian becoming an Avenger. You could tell she was apprehensive about it all, concerning the relatively unstable powers she holds; thus, you tried to reassure her whenever you could in moments when her anxieties became overwhelming.

You texted her, letting her know that you were coming over to make her dinner that night. Thankfully, she had training, so the surprise you had planned wouldn't be ruined. A couple of days prior, you researched different Sokovian recipes. You vaguely recalled something she said about her favorite food being from home, but you couldn't exactly recall the name of the dish. After a few minutes, you finally found it: Chicken Paprikash.

As the cooking was coming to an end, you heard your phone ding from the counter, indicating that you had received a text message. Quickly, you wiped your hands of the food remnants on the towel that was closest to you. When the screen lit up, you noticed the message was from Wanda, saying she would be down in a few minutes. Panic began to bubble within you, as the food wasn't done yet and you haven't even gotten the drinks poured. Surely, it is not actually the time you planned to meet—

6:00 PM. That was the time staring back at you on the kitchen clock. Although, you did not have the time to think about how to rectify the problem. Footsteps were heard behind you, and you heard the mystery person inhale deeply through the nose. "Wow," they exclaimed. You knew that accented voice from anywhere: Wanda.

Slowly, you turned on your heels. "Hey, Wanda," you replied, unsure of what to say considering you were not done cooking let alone planning on what to say once she arrived.

"Is that Paprikash?" she asked as she approached the pot on the stove to take a glance for herself.

You gave a shy nod in return, "Yeah, I know you've been stressed lately with this and all." You used your free hand to motion to the surrounding building, referring to the fact she became an Avenger. "So, I wanted to do something to help, to bring you comfort. And, I know you said once that your favorite food was something from home, but I couldn't remember the name of it. But, fortunately, I was able to find it with my expertise in searching things on the internet. Ok, wait... that sounds weird—"

You stopped rambling once Wanda turned away from the stove to face you. Immediately, you noticed the tears forming in her eyes. Being the anxious person you were, you had assumed this was because of something you had done wrong. "No, no. Please don't cry, Wands. Did I make it wrong? I can make something else, or I— I can change it if I need to..."

It appeared to be quite the opposite, though. Wanda walked toward where you were standing only a few feet away. She looked up at you, taking in the genuine expression of concern on your face. No one has ever cared this much for her, excluding the family she once had when they were alive. So, she wrapped her arms around your abdomen and pulled your body as close to hers as possible. With her head resting on your shoulder near the collarbone (and your head laying on her own), you both relished in the comfort of the embrace. You brought your arms to her back, alternating between trailing your hand in up-and-down motions and in circles. Never had a hug felt so warm and relieving.

"No," she broke the silence after a moment had passed. "It's perfect, truly, Y/N. It's everything. I— I don't know how to thank you."

"You being here is enough."

The two of you ate the dish together in the peace of your own company. You found a spare bottle of rosé in Tony's cabinets, taking it to the table to be poured as needed. She loved it, as she had anticipated; yet, she loved your reaction almost as much as the food itself. You had told her that you had never had Paprikash before, that this was the first time you had eaten the dish let alone make it (which is one of the reasons why you were nervous). So, she waited impatiently with her bottom lip between her teeth as you took the first bite.

You had to admit, it was very good. In fact, it was so good that you let out a moan due to the combination of flavors currently occurring in your mouth. Upon realizing the sound you just realized, blood began to rush to your cheeks; the wine did not help the involuntary blush forming. The Sokovian laughed, not noting the latter events, and the two of you resumed eating the food and drinking the wine as conversation flowed easily.

It felt like you were transported back in time to the night you first met, feeling a similar buzz radiating under your skin. It took a similar effect on Wanda; therefore, you two decided to retire to her bedroom in the compound for the evening. It was late and you were not exactly the most sober, so she didn't want you driving home.

"Well, how could I say 'no' to a sleepover?" you supplied, humorously.

She smiled, and a sort of gleam came into her emerald eyes. Having been practically raised by sitcoms, she had always wanted something like this during her youth: a cliché sleepover with her best friend. She told you as such, "Good. I'm excited... I've never had a sleepover before, so..."

The shock you felt from that statement must have been evident on your face, for the gleam began to fade a bit while her expression slightly fell. "Well, that just won't do. We have to make this the best, classic, all-American girl sleepover. We need movies, snacks, blankets, and pillows. Do you have a game? Actually, never mind that. We can just do a verbal game like Truth or Dare or 20 Questions."

The plan you began drafting out loud caused the shine to return to Wanda's eyes. For hours, you spent your time in a fort you two built out of several blankets and pillows on the floor. The space was confined, requiring the two of you to lay as close as humanly possible. You watched two movies on your laptop, then switched to playing some games. You ended up playing 20 Questions, wherein you discovered some interesting things about each other. To summarize the most important conclusions, it was found out that: she has a guilty pleasure for stealing other people's clothes (specifically, oversized items like sweats or shirts), and you often took smoke breaks when you got stressed or overwhelmed (she liked to joke, saying she could tell that you were a "little stoner" at heart). However, the most intriguing discovery that was unearthed during the game was the potential that the other was not straight. During a round in which you were asked about your celebrity crush, you quickly gave your answer: "Florence Pugh or Brittany Snow. I don't know; they're both hot, honestly."

While you weren't exactly ashamed of your sexuality, you weren't sure of her opinions regarding the subject and didn't want to risk losing her. It never really came up in past conversations. As you registered what you just admitted, you kept your gaze down toward the carpet where you two were sitting. She gave a hum of approval, "I totally get it. Brittany in Pitch Perfect? Stunning. Florence in the Little Women remake? Perfect."

You looked up, finally allowing your eyes to meet hers. Obviously, she could tell you were succumbing to the nerves of your mind (it also helps when her powers make sensing others' strong emotions very easy). She remained in the same position from before, but her hand reached for the one resting in your lap. Taking it in hers, she gave it a gentle squeeze; the grasp strong enough to let you know she's not going to leave you. "I do not care if you're gay, Y/N. You know that, right? I don't mind women myself from time to time. It honestly depends on their personality more than their gender, you know?"

You have never felt so relieved and understood by another individual. You acknowledged her with a quick, almost unnoticeable nod. "Good," she continued with her classic smile on her face. "Wanna watch another movie?"

Sheltered by the blanket structure, you two resumed the positions of laying on the floor. This time, as the movie played on the computer in your lap, you felt her head lean on your soldier. Then, her right hand gradually crept closer to your left hand. Minutes later, her fingers were threaded between yours. At first, your heart was beating fast because you were nervous — she was making you nervous. As if she sensed this (which she did), she was able to calm you by using her thumb to rub the back of your hand.

You didn't have time to think about what it all meant that night; the two of you immediately fell asleep, and the rather serious elements of the night were seldom mentioned. Although, you only had one thought relating to Wanda before succumbing to slumber: Oh God.

And I chose you, The one I was dancing with, In New York, no shoes, Looked up, at the sky and it was...

Honestly, you were not sure if you were going to ever mention these newfound feelings you felt for the Sokovian. You wanted her to come to you, relying on whether or not she felt comfortable. While you wanted nothing more than to know whether or not she returned the sentiment, you also recognized she is in a fragile position. For instance, what if you tell her, and she totally freaks and doesn't want to be friends anymore? Or, what if she thinks that you don't want to be friends if she doesn't like you back, leaving her thinking she'll lose you? To say you were spiraling oftentimes about the situation was an understatement.

It didn't occur all of the time, though. In fact, the times you were simply spending moments with Wanda were enough to satisfy you, for that's all you truly wanted at the end of the day: her and her happiness.

About four months after you had met at the party, you were laying in Wanda's room at the compound. You were scrolling through your phone, looking at emails from the past few days that you had missed. Wanda, on the other hand, was reading a book she had just bought from a local bookstore. The room was under a comfortable silence; that is, until Wanda broke the silence with a random question: "Have you ever seen stars? I mean, in the sky... as the movies show them?"

"You haven't?"

It was not the best reply, looking back on it. The surprised tone could come across as judgmental — and, it definitely must have. The Sokovian began to sink into herself, her gaze lowering and the volume of her voice almost completely reduced. "No, I haven't," she said in a shaky response. "When I lived near Novi Grad, there were rarely nights where the sky was clear of clouds and fog enough to see any stars. Also, being locked in a cell made it quite difficult in terms of getting outside to see them. I haven't really stopped to think about it again until now."

You realized your mistake, "Sorry, Wands. I didn't mean to say it like that, like I was judging you. It's just weird to think, I guess, that you haven't seen them." There was a slight pause in your speech, "You know what? Come on." You grabbed her arm, pulling her off of the bed with you. The sudden action caused her to drop her book, but she was too occupied with trying to figure out what you were up to care about the forgotten novel.

"Where are we going, Y/N?"

"You'll see," you replied in a confident but excited tone.

"Y/N," she chuckled, loosening up. "We don't have our shoes on."

As the two of you entered the elevator, you pushed the button to take you to the highest possible floor. "Eh, shoes are for losers, anyway."

The ride took a minute or two, but the doors eventually opened in an achingly slow manner. You knew the sky would be clear tonight, therefore there would be stars visible in the upstate New York region. You took her hand in yours and dragged her outside to the rooftop.

"Well, look up!" you said, surely.

Wanda took a deep breath, then she hesitantly lifted her head. She gasped at the sight: hundreds or thousands of little white dots littered the dark, night sky. It was beautiful; there was nothing to compare it to in that regard.

She hugged you, similarly to how she did the night you made her favorite dinner for the first time.

"Do you like it?" you whispered into the ear that was conveniently located close to your mouth.

The Sokovian gave a slight nod, "I love it. I don't think I have ever seen something so extraordinary."

You nodded your own head in an unspoken agreement. The two of you just stayed there, remaining in the comfort of each other's arms as you took in the sights around you. After several moments passed, Wanda suddenly lifted her head to look directly into your eyes.

"Dance with me," she unexpectedly requested. It was not posed as a question, so you didn't think you had a choice in the matter (not that you'd deny her of anything she wanted anyways).

You moved your arms to be placed on her shoulders, encircling her neck; her arms maintained their positions around your waist. She moved her body closer, leaning near to the point that her forehead was resting against yours. This position should've been awkward — it would've been had it been anyone else; with Wanda, it felt so natural. Under the stars, the two of you simply swayed in the cool breeze of the August air.

"Y/N?"

You hummed.

"I choose you."

Your heart must have skipped multiple beats at that moment, but it did not stop you from giving your own confession: "I choose you, too."

In a speed that can only be deemed as torturous, you waited as Wanda slowly leaned in closer. Her eyes were constantly switching between your eyes and your lips. "Can— Can I kiss you?"

"Please," you practically whimpered.

Her head finally tilted and got closer until it hit — absolute fireworks. As her lips gracefully touched yours, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut to fully experience the moment in the most sensual way. It was not rushed or needy; it was the opposite, defined by the intimacy and passion that cannot possibly be found elsewhere. You could not think about anything other than how her rose-colored lips felt against yours. It is like the moment in which you finally find that missing piece that perfectly fits, bringing the puzzle all together; she's the missing piece, and your life is the completed puzzle.

As the kiss ended, you reluctantly pulled away. Her eyes remained closed at first, but they opened soon after. Her piercing green eyes never failed to stun you, not since the first day your own eyes landed upon her. You took your right hand, pushing a few strands of hair that had fallen to go behind her ear. She took her bottom lip between her teeth.

"What are you nervous about?" you inquired, noting the habit.

Her eyebrows furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"You were biting your lip," you explain. "You only do that if you're nervous about something, like when you first talked about Sokovia or when you just wanted me to like the Paprikash because it's your favorite."

It was not the response she expected, but something about it made Wanda like you even more than she had previously. "Nothing, truly. I just really like you... just in case the kiss we had did not prove that enough."

"I can't even begin to describe how much I like you, Wanda. You make me so inexplicably happy; you have for a while now."

"A while, huh?" she teased, her signature smirk forming.

Unfortunately, so did your blush as you conceded, "About three months, give or take."

The Sokovian tried to do the mental work to deduce the time period, "Around the night of the sleepover?"

The blush on your cheeks brightened, and you gave a nod to affirm her response.

"We got there, eventually," she offered.

"Yeah," you agreed with a grin. "We did."

You couldn't resist the temptation any longer and shifted your head to give her more kisses. You started with light butterfly kisses on her jawline. Slowly but surely, you transferred to her cheek, to her forehead, to the tip of her nose, then — finally — locked your lips to hers.

If you could kiss her for hours, you would; so, you did. That night under the sea of stars, you two repeatedly exchanged kisses loaded with all of the feelings that had been pent up inside for a while.

The burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me, And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was- The mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust it grew between telephones The lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon...

You weren't sure exactly when you knew it was love. Obviously, you have known you loved her as a person for a while considering she was your best friend; but, romantic love — loving her as a partner, your supposed other half — is entirely distinct from that sort of platonic love of friends and family.

In retrospect, you think it has to be New Year's Eve. It was below freezing outdoors, leaving residents confined to the inside of their homes. This was not an issue for you and your girlfriend, for you two would never complain about the need to cuddle with each other for extra warmth.

Due to the holiday, Tony was throwing another extravagant party, which you two had obviously been invited to attend. That is how you found yourself in this predicament:

You had been standing out on the balcony for about fifteen minutes; it was getting a bit hectic inside with many people being in attendance. Normally, you'd just seek Wanda for comfort; however, you couldn't find her, leaving you to your own devices. The only immediate solution you could think of was to exit the situation by standing on the balcony in the cold air.

Though you'd been lost in thought for a while, a pair of familiar hands brought you back to the present. They tangled around your waist, one pulling you close to the front of the body behind you and the other holding a glass of red wine.

"дорогая, what are you doing out here? It's freezing," she moved her face closer to your neck. You tilted your head to the side in order to give her more access. She took advantage of this offer, peppering sweet kisses to the side of your neck. "Are you okay?" she asks, the concern evident in her voice.

"Yeah, I'm okay now," you confirmed, trying to ease her mind in the way that she does yours. "I just felt overwhelmed in there... a lot of people."

She gave a hum of agreement, "I don't even know how he knows that many people."

Her comment elicited a small laugh from you, which she took as a good sign of your emotional well-being. You let out a whine of annoyance when she briefly let go of you. As you turned to face her, though, your arm must have nudged the hand holding the glass of wine. Before anything could be done, the red liquid began to seep into your attire.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," Wanda raised her empty hand to cover her mouth in shock. "дорогая, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spill it. Oh my God, I ruined your clothes."

Meanwhile, you tried saying her name multiple times to try to stop her ranting. You understood it was not her fault; if anything, it was mainly yours for lacking basic spatial awareness. Eventually, you realized she would not stop on her own accord; thus, you placed your lips on hers in a final attempt to get her to slow down before she officially spiraled.

When you finally pulled away, she kept her eyes close because she was afraid of your rejection. "Wanda?" you pleaded. "Wanda? Baby, can you please open your eyes for me?"

In an apprehensive manner, she revealed her eyes to you. If the tears were not sufficient in proving her internal panic, you could feel the anxiety that was radiating from her body. "It's okay. I promise that it is okay, baby. Accidents happen, okay?"

She sniffled, clearly upset but relieved that you were not mad at her for the mistake. You raised your hands to her face, using your thumbs to wipe the lonely tears that began to slowly roll down her lightly-freckled cheeks. As you did so, the two of you stared into each other's eyes in an endless endeavor. You could barely make out the sound of a countdown coming from indoors:

"10..."

You moved to be as close to her as you could.

"9..."

"Wanda..." you said.

"8..."

You kept your thumbs stagnant now, simply cupping her face between your hands.

"7..."

"Y/N?"

"6..."

She followed suit, circling your torso with her hands.

"5..."

"I— I want to tell you something."

"4..."

"What, дорогая?" she pondered aloud, genuinely curious as to what you were about to say.

"3..."

"I love you, Wanda Maximoff. Not even with just my heart, I love you with my whole being."

"2..."

Your novel confession caused her breath to hitch in her throat. The tears that you had just wiped away were now returning with fervor.

"1..."

"I love you, too. I love you so much."

Thus, as the clock struck midnight signaling the start of a new year, you kissed the woman you loved with such a deep, irreplaceable passion. You felt like you could never come down from this high.

When the silence came we were shaking blind and hazy, How the hell did we lose sight of us again? Sobbin' with your head in your hands Ain't that the way shit always ends?

Looking back on your relationship, it was evident that you were susceptible to naïveté. When the clock strikes midnight, it does not stay midnight. The minutes will keep passing, for time does not stop for anything or anyone. Unfortunately, you had to find this out the hard way:

"Y/N?" you heard your girlfriend call you from a nearby room.

"In here!"

As she walked into the room, there was an unusual heaviness in her step. The atmosphere around you, too, was spoiled; it made you feel uneasy.

"Is something wrong, Wands?"

Given that she couldn't meet your gaze and continued to play with the rings on her fingers, it was evident that she didn't want to say whatever she had to, or that she simply didn't know how to do it in the first place: "I have to leave. I won't be back for a while."

"What do you mean?" you became even more confused. "Wanda, what the hell? What do you mean you have to leave? You have to go where? Go... Why?"

She stepped further back in favor of pacing the room. "I— I don't know, Y/N. They want me... the government, I mean... because of this mess between Tony and Steve. Natasha is setting up a safe house and a fake identity for me somewhere, most likely not on this continent. I'm so sorry. I don't want to go, but you're not safe as long as I'm here. I can't let you get hurt because of me... that has happened enough times in my life."

"No, Wanda," you cried out, not believing the words were actually true. "No! I— this isn't happening. No, you're not leaving."

"дорогая..." she trailed off, unsure of how to express her sympathy.

"No!" you began to yell, officially beyond upset. "You can't leave me; I refuse. I don't care whether you think I'm safe or not. You don't get to make that decision for me; we make that choice together. I want to be with you, Wanda! I love you; please don't leave me."

The sight unfolding before the Sokovian was heartbreaking. She could only repeat her earlier words, "I'm sorry, дорогая... I will always love you, Y/N, no matter what."

With your arms shakily encircled around your noticeably trembling body, you attempted to find solace. Further, your red face had tears flowing with no end. Wanda eventually gathered the encourage approach you. Initially, you tried to resist it by pushing her away or shrugging her off. You were so frustrated, wanting to show her that you were upset she was leaving you when you two could have stayed together. But, you gave in, for you'll always need her comfort in the end. You probably looked pathetic as you held onto her, sobbing into her chest with your arms clutching hers as if she'd fade away at any moment. Then again, you have never felt your heart physically break as much as it did that day.

Unfortunately, that sentiment didn't last very long. Only a few months later you received a call from an unknown number. Before the Avengers left and began to hide around the globe, you never would have answered the call of an unknown number. However, you know Wanda was also told not to contact you. At least, she would not be able to contact you with her personal phone, which she had left at your place with you.

Actually, you were on her phone when it happened. Oddly, you were feeling okay that day. It felt like the weight of the sadness was lifting, beginning to understand this situation would all be temporary. So, you allowed yourself to finally open her phone and scroll through all of the pictures and videos she had of you two. As you were watching a video that she took of you and her at Christmas last year, the call from the unknown number came through on your own phone. You stood silent for a moment, as if the phone would sense your presence and stop ringing if you moved a muscle. Your subconscious freeze ended, and you scrambled to the phone upon thinking about the possibility that Wanda is finally calling you after these past few months on the run.

You were close; the phone call was from Natasha. You knew she had been keeping tabs on Wanda in the beginning. You assumed she was currently acting as the middleman for a message from Wanda — you were very wrong.

"Hello?"

"Y/N?" the voice came through the speaker.

"Natasha? Is that really you? Hello? Oh my God, is everything alright? Wanda... how's Wanda? Have you heard from her? She hasn't contacted me at all this whole time, and I'm starting to get worried. Has it been too long? Natasha, what is happening? I'm scared..."

"Y/N..."

You didn't like that tone. It's the one someone uses when they know something is wrong, but they don't want to tell you that said thing is wrong. It was at that point you knew something was really wrong.

"No, Natasha. No. Tell me. I need to know. I love her, Natasha. I deserve to know."

"Wanda... she's— she's gone."

Time will never stop for anything or anyone; that principle was evident long ago when you two first confessed your love for each other on the balcony on New Year's Eve. That does not mean time cannot exponentially slow down. For at this moment, that is exactly what happened. As if your body took over for your mind, you went on autopilot: hanging up the phone on Natasha without any words being said and falling onto your knees in a fit of despair. The sob released from within can only be described as primitive, and the feeling as permanent. You clutched your chest, similar to the way you did when Wanda first told you she'd have to leave months ago.

That is not to say you blame Wanda or anyone around you, including yourself, for the outcome of today. You know there was no way of knowing, so logically nothing could've been changed in the end nor the beginning.

You were bound to be alone. Wanda wouldn't be there to hold your hand when you watched a movie, gently kiss the side of your neck when you were overwhelmed, or worry herself at the silly mistakes she made; she wouldn't be there to roll her eyes at your admittedly stupid jokes, kiss your lips while you made dinner for the two of you, or hold you in bed after a long day or a terrible nightmare. But, most importantly, Wanda — the love of your life — wouldn't be there to get married to you, raise the three children you two always wanted (because "one is not enough and two is average, but four is definitely too much"), or experience the other joys of spending the rest of your lives together as you two had intended.

At first, you were just sad all of the time. It was an endless pit of despair, rendering you hopeless. You had your whole life planned with her being in it; how could you ever live that same life, especially happily, now that she's not here to experience it with you?

Then, a switch occurred in your mind one day. The sadness quickly faded into a wave of hateful, vengeful anger. It felt like your body and soul were constantly plagued with so much anger and hurt, because how dare this happen to you two? How dare this happen to her after she's already been through and lost so much? And, how dare this happen to you after you finally found your person?

The worst of it all is it felt like you still see her everywhere, from the compound to the grocery store. Even today, there are constant reminders making it impossible for you to escape the maroon lens Wanda had left on your life. You had once perceived the maroon to be a sign of warmth and love, of Wanda herself; how could you possibly have known that one day all it would come to mean was the seething red of anger?

End.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #marvel imagines #limarieb #limarieb wanda maximoff #taylor swift #songfic

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intotheelliwoods · 1 year

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@kinky-asexual I love myself having certain colors represent certain themes/events/occasions :) TYSM by the way!!

---

I bring you this doodle! @greentrickster

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Dont know why I drew this but here you go. @wraenata Have an emotional support peepaw.

Anyways, Marcus Moncrief was on Saturday Night Live, live!! Donnie was rambling to Leo about the concept of freezing time by reaching absolute 0 in Kelvin :)

---

Oh I have been waiting for someone to ask me something like this, you have no idea. Putting this ESSAY under a cut oops I wrote a ton (if the cut even works, sometimes they dont)

I am very aware of the norm of the usual take of Future Leo AU's, it was all those AU's and fics that mad inspired me after all! They are all so good and play on a very interesting concept! Issue is, it ended up being the only take I ended up seeing. With the whole future and present self having some form of resentment towards eachother even if it was just a little bit, or for only a short period of time. I honestly needed a fresh breath of air and it came to my attention as time went on that other readers also needed a breath of fresh air. So uh, I very much saw the opportunity here and took it, with the added bonus of it being in comic form since theres so many fics out there.

Yes my comic is absolutely the opposite of the norm and I plan on keeping it like that, I made it the opposite of the norm for a reason, and the reason definitely shows through the sheer numbers and attention I have been getting on this thing! I am so happy so many people are enjoying the series! I am so glad to heal everyones wounds from the anguish of the usual plotlines haha!

Sidenote, I would actually highly recommend this post by pinetreevillain, read the tags, words things better than I ever could. Not just the OP's tags, all the reblog tags too.

(There may have been fics were the Leos were actually nice to eachother, but either I did not hear of them/see them, or they were just overall not popular enough to be well known and recognized for the good relationship)

I understand that such a fast change in character meanwhile does not happen overnight. This here is probably the biggest issue I have within the series, though I do have a little bit of reasoning.

I am just going to be flat out honest, I personally find it hard for myself to sit and read through something about characters arguing, it makes me weirdly uneasy. Something something about characters who love eachother yelling it out just hits me in a way I try to avoid whoops. So if I find it hard to read something like that, it is even harder for me to write and draw it out myself, there will be no forms of these sorts situations in the series because of that. Though this does tie back into me trying to avoid the norm, having everyone be kind to Leo after the movie is a take you do not see often.

I actually attempted addressing the movie aftermath with Raph and Leo with this comic, it was the whole point on why I made the comic! Because yes! I These two really did need some new take, my own take, on the aftermath. I wanted to show in that comic that Raph is not mad, happy actually, that Leo managed to pull himself together for such an act. Leo proved on that day that he knew what he was doing, how to care for a team, and that he was truly meant for his role as the leader.

Final little point: Lets be honest I dont think anyone will have the guts to even be mad at Leo after he sacrificed himself and his arm to save everyone. How could anyone be mad at that? Outside the fear of loosing him of course

#asks #2 arms left #my art

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nkjemisin · 9 months

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Hi! (Just to get in front of it, I'm not asking you for anything. I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate your work and I SEE the decolonization in it. I'm definitely also neurodivergent, so forgive me if I over- or under-explain a point.) But I realize this is an Ask Me Anything... egad.

I'm working on a piece about Broken Earth for the Decolonizing the EcoGothic volume of the Gothic Nature Journal, and I just wanted to let you know that I am blown away by the way you tell stories. I was in a Gothic Horror (I'm really not that big of a Gothic literature nerd, I swear!) class while I was in graduate school last year and we read Toni Morrison's Beloved. That was the second time that I read that novel in particular, and the first time I read it I got hung up on Mama Suggs. Her character and her ceremonies in the clearing were very powerful, and I couldn't put a pin in why until I read Broken Earth. Something about the connection between Essun and Alabaster's bodies transforming as a result of their magic use and the utter negation and abuse and colonization of the black body in both stories and historic times of slavery (and the prison industrial complex today, let's be real). Reading Broken Earth helped me understand that. So thank you.

I'm sorry this is turning into a mini essay, but I also wanted to mention another connection I found between the two on my second read (a connection I formed, I'm definitely not trying to say that I know for sure what you were going for because of course there's a lot to the stories) was between that of the characters Nassun and Denver. Near the end of the novel, after Beloved's ghost has all but taken everything from Sethe, Denver begins to step off of the safe porch and enter into the unsafe world alone for the first time to try and find help. She finds herself recalling a conversation that she heard between Baby Suggs and her mother:

“Oh, some of them [white people] do all right by us,” Sethe said. Baby suggs responds,

“And every time it’s a surprise, ain’t it? Don’t box with me. There’s more of us they drowned than there is all of them ever lived from the start of time. Lay down your sword. This ain’t a battle; it’s a rout” (287). Denver then asks the memory of her grandmother what she should do, then. “Know it, and go on out the yard. Go on,” her grandmother responds (288).

What should Denver, or Nassun, do with the knowledge that they will never truly be safe? She has to accept it, but go on anyway. One foot after another, and so on. I felt a bit of this driving Nassun after her father takes her away from their home in Tirimo... and I dunno. You and Toni Morrison both write stories that stick with me, personally, and make me think. And think and think.

Oh I'm also not assuming you've read Beloved, either. I'm sorry! I this is turning into a mess. I think I'll stop there. Just, thank you. For your stories and for your characters and for the story of Syl Anagist. I loved the Inheritance Trilogy also, I'm just very stuck on Broken Earth because of this piece I'm working on. Thank you! Sorry.

No need to apologize! But I can't answer your question because I haven't read Beloved. Read and loved several Morrison novels, but not that one. (I keep meaning to, but my Mount ToBeRead is the size of Everest and growing.) Both books are inspired by the same historical event, and I think because of that, folks who don't know about Margaret Garner reasonably assume I'm riffing on Morrison rather than reality. But nope, the Broken Earth trilogy is just one of several creative works that are in conversation with the Garner tragedy. Any similarities you see probably come from the fact that Morrison and I share a racial and gender identity, and had a similar reaction to realizing just how much our current lives are impacted by hidden historical horrors.

Even if I'd read Beloved, however, I probably wouldn't be able to answer your question. Lit crit is best done by people other than the author, IMO. We're too close to our work to tell you very much about it.

#answered asks

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swervestrickland · 1 year

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HANGMAN PAGE BIRTHDAY WEEK

-> starts Friday, July 21st, 2023 and ends Thursday, July 27th, 2023

Hello, everyone! It's me, Emi adampage here, coming to you fresh from the post-Double or Nothing high, to announce that HANGMAN PAGE BIRTHDAY WEEK will be happening again this year! I am going to make this considerably hard on myself, as I will be out of the country during the week of, but I will do my very best to reblog any creations you make!

That being said, here's what I have in mind for this year :)

OBJECTIVE

To create wonderful works [edits, gifs, writing, art, videos, etc] in the name and in the honor of our lovely cowboy, Hangman Adam Page, during the week of July 21st, 2023, to July 27th, 2023.

RULES

There are prompts/themes for each day, sometimes even two. You may choose to do either or both! You may also do multiple of each, if it strikes your heart to do so.

Do not take the prompts at face value. You may interpret them in any way you would like! (If you cannot choose one of something for a theme, feel free to talk/write/create about more than one. Multiple loves and multiple favorites are implied!)

You can use any form of post available to you through tumblr. Video, photo, gif, text, audio, etc etc. It’s ALL up to YOU! (Fics can be linked from ao3 if it’s easier for you)

If you only want to do certain days, no worries!! Do everything in any way you would like. And if you’re a bit late on some prompts than others, that’s completely fine (just don’t be early lol)! the hangman gang will want to see them either way <3

If you have ANY QUESTIONS, please don't hesitate to DM me or send me an ask!

THEMES

Day 1 - July 21st - FRIDAY: Hangman + LOVE

Day 2 - July 22nd - SATURDAY: Hangman + HATE

Day 3 - July 23rd - SUNDAY: Hangman + BLOOD (or, if that's not your style, SILLY/GOOFY)

Day 4 - July 24th - MONDAY: Hangman + PLAYLIST

Day 5 - July 25th - TUESDAY: Hangman + FOIL* (or other literary device, such as 'parallel')

Day 6 - July 26th - WEDNESDAY: Hangman + FANTASY/DREAM

Day 7 - July 27th - THURSDAY: HANGMAN'S BIRTHDAY! Hangman + FREE CHOICE

*it was brought to my attention that this one can seem confusing. The definition of "foil" is as follows (from literarydevices.net): Foil is a literary device designed to illustrate or reveal information, traits, values, or motivations of one character through the comparison and contrast of another character. A literary foil character serves the purpose of drawing attention to the qualities of another character, frequently the protagonist. This is effective as a means of developing a deeper understanding of a character by emphasizing their strengths and weaknesses. In addition, a literary foil allows writers to create a counterpart for the protagonist that puts their actions and choices in context. (You can use this definition, or you can get inspiration from it. Or, you can use a different literary device, if you so choose. You can also liken the word 'foil' to, I dunno, tinfoil. What I love about word prompts is that you can take a word and create something completely different than someone else. Go crazy!)

As always, thank you to @mistress-omega-majesty, @jonmoxleys, @sheslikealostflower, and @cowboyshit for the feedback on the prompts!

LAST BIT OF RULES

Please remember to mention the THEME in your post, as well as to TAG YOUR POST with the following: #HANGMANPAGEBIRTHDAYWEEK within the first five tags, and to tag ME (main @adampage), in a reply comment under your post, or in the body of your post, whatever is easier. I will be posting my edits to @bloodycowboyclub, and likely will post any text posts/writing from my main.

PLEASE REBLOG TO SPREAD THE WORD! Even if you only plan to enjoy the creations!! I want as many people as possible to participate and it’s only possible if this ends up on their dashes! Thank you (:

Don’t forget to have fun!!

#hangman adam page #adam page #aewedit #aew #hangman page #HANGMANPAGEBIRTHDAYWEEK #hangman page birthday week #we got a month and a half lets goooooo

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mishmosh-chaos · 3 months

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- Here we go again -

Good Omens Crowley & Aziraphale Oneshot

A/N: Hello, hello! First, let me say that I just finished watching Good Omens, and for the love of both heaven and hell, I simply adore them! And I haven't had inspiration to write anything for a long time on any of my blogs, but these two changed that. So,hopefully, I can still write something – somewhat – likeable! Also, english is not my main language, so do be lenient on me if you happen to stumble across any kind of mistakes! Happy reading! 💚

„Here's to us, Angel!“

Aziraphale turns his head towards Crowley, not bothering to hide the radiant smile from his face.

„To us!“ he replies happily lifting and bringing his hand towards Crowley, the soft clink of their champagne glasses joining in with the murmurs and the music surrounding them.

Taking a sip, he gaze around. The Ritz looked lovely as ever, and everything was just right as always – the lighting adjusted in perfect balance, that no matter where you looked at, there was no need to strain your eyes for a clear sight; the music was playing at just the right volume, providing conversers, if needed so, the chance to talko freely without fear of being overheard and/or spied on. Yes, everything was lovely, indeed.

Then again, this time, it wasn't just lovely – it was magnificent!

There wasn't much of a difference from any other times that they came here together, yet this time, everything was much, much better.

And it was exactly because of that, being here together, that it made it so much better. Because this time that „together“ had a completely different meaning from all other past „togethers“.

„Ok, I have to ask, but what's up with that?“

Aziraphale turns and hazily look back at Crowley, still smiling with the same intensity „Sorry? With what?“

„With that!“ Crowley remark and wiggle with his fingers towards his face „You have that goofy smile on almost since we got here.“

„I do have it, don't I? Indeed you're right.“ He reply, Crowly shifting in his chair upon hearing it and leans closer to him „Alright. But, you still haven't answered me why. And honestly, Angel, you kinda starting to give me the heebie-jeebies with it.“

„Now, come on, you're over exaggerating!“ Aziraphale exclimes „I'm just – I'm just being happy.“

Crowley stays silent for a moment, then lowers his sunglasses halfway down his nose exposing his demon eyes, and gives him a piercing stare „Angel, I've seen you happy before, and this is definitely something else.“

„Oh, but I am happy, and very much so,“ he starts excitedly „it's just a - a special kind of happy. That's why it seemes strange to you.“

The demon barely managed to rise his eyebrow to emphasize how he still wasn't satisfied with his answer when Aziraphale almost screamed joyfully to his face „Ohh, you dim idiot! I'm happy because of us!“

„You are?“ Crowley finally speaks up sounding baffled, and just as he was about to start elaborate some more on the subject, he notice something was off, very quickly realizing Crowley was barely managing to keep on a straight face, the corners of his lips quivering like crazy trying not to form into a smile.

But he wasn't angry at Crowley for teasing him like this, not at all. He just smiles bright again and speak as proudly possible „Yes, yes I am. I am very much so happy because of it. Because of us.“

That word, us, slowly began to crawl so deep into his being, making him wonder, how on earth is it possible for just one word, for one so ordinary, so common word, to have such a power over somebody, stirring up feelings and emotions unknow thus far.

And just the thought of almost missing out on the chance for that us to even exist...no, he didn't even want to go back to those kind of dark thoughts. He was just extremely glad and thankful that Crowley was somehow able to forgive him for his hurtful actions.

„Very well then.“

Crowley's words snap him from his thoughts, and he watch how the demon, now clearly smiling, laids back in his chair bringing his glass to his lips „ As you were, Angel.“

He chuckles shaking his head, also taking another sip from his glass, continuing to enjoy this moment.

„By the way, Angel...“

Not a minute later, the demon's voice once again break his enjoyment, yet again he didn mind it, he just turns towards him smiling. And as shortly before, Crowley's sunglasses were once again half way down his nose and that piercing stare was once more focused on him.

„I was just wondering if I heard it right, but, did you – just now, call me an idiot?“

Aziraphale's eyes widen, he definitely didn't expect a question like this. But he better do something fast to fix this.

„You know, Crowley, I believe I did do that, but you kind of deserved it.“ he begins, then lowers his glass on the table and shifts in his chair so his whole body was now facing him, and gently grasp his hand between his „And for the record, I meant it in the most affectionately way possible.“

Without averting his stare nor moving his hand from Aziraphale's grasp, Crowly takes a deep breath before adjusting his sunglasses back on „If you say so, Angel. If you say so.“

Crowley grabs the new bottle of champagne the waiter just brought to their table and starts filling his glass „You know, Angel, you still didn't tell me how you got out of Heaven.“

Aziraphale looks at him a bit confused „Well, I took the elevator, ofcours. How else would I have leave?“

„I know you took the elevator,“ Crowley replies rolling his eyes „but, what I mean is, I expected of them to be watching your every move closely, you know. So I didn't think that they would just let you roam up there freely.“

„You know, so was I,“ Aziraphale comments back equally surprised „but after they updated me about the plan and all that..“

„Oh, yeah, the Second Comming-destruction of all – yada yada – plan...“

„Exactly!“ Aziraphale continues, not paying attention to Crowley cutting him off „Well, after that, they really just left me alone.“

„Alright. But, you see - you've been back down here for how long now? Three, no, four days?“

The Angel nods affirmatively.

„Right,“ Crowley remarks thoughtfully before continuing „so, you've been back here for four days now, and I'm sure they must have notice by now that you're gone. What really get me thingking – what makes me really curious is, why haven't we heard anything about it? I mean, your disappearance would definitely be hot news, for both up and down folks.“

„I believe you're right.“ Aziraphale says before continuing „I suppose it must be connected with a note i left.“

„I'm sorry, what?“ Crowley almost spit his drink „Did – did you just say you left a note?“

„Yes, yes I did.“

„I can't – I – I don't - what in the Hell did you do that for?“ Crowley exploded, he couldn't believe his ears. Who was the idiot here now?! „Are you seriously telling me, that you left a note, in Heaven, informing them about your escape?“

„Something like that, yes. You make it sound like it's some big deal, when really, it isn't.“

„Not a big deal? NOT a big deal?! For Hell's sake, Angel, are you even listening to yourself?! Ofcourse it's a big deal!“

„Now, now, Crowley, no need to be this upset.“

„Upset? I'm not upset, I'm furious!“

Crowly was now on his feet, pacing furiously back and forth, but Aziraphale was unfazed „Ah, but you still haven't heard the best part yet.“

„There's more?“ Crowley freeze in place already feeling defeated, and throws himself back in his chair „For the love of it... I need a drink - or the whole bottle.“

„Oh, but do listen to me, Crowley, you're going to want to hear what i got to say.“

Aziraphale sounded excited like a little kid, which only made Crowley even more desperate. So he downs a few drinks and lowers his forehead not so lightly on the table „I doubt it, Angel, but you're gonna say it anyway. So, go on, spit it out.“

„All right, here it goes – I stole the book.“

„You stole a book?“

„Yes,“ Aziraphale repeats excitedly „I stole the book.“

„A book... he stole a book. Marvelous, just bloody marvelous.“ Crowley scoffs and lifts his head to look at Aziraphale „Well, good for you, Angel!“

„Oh, for the sake of it,“ now it was Aziraphale turn to get frustrated „you are not really listening to me! Look!“

Crowley didn't know what to expect, but when the Angel lowered the book on the tabel, and when he finally realized what that book was, the demon jumped back up on his feet in a flash, removing his sunglasses as if to take a better look of it.

„Nooo..it can't be...“

„Oh, but it is!“

„No – really?“

„Mhm.“

„But – no, it can - but how?“

„I told you, Crowley, I stole it! Are you even listening to a word I'm saying?“

„Ofcourse I'm listening, Angel! But – but you said you stole a book. How on earth was I suppose to think it was this book?“

„Im pretty certain I said the book, and not a book.“

„Argh, who cares!“ Crowley growls „You could have just say I stole the Book of Life, it would definitely save us some time. And nerves.“

"Well, it's settled now, right? So, what do you have to say to all this now, hmm?"

"Well, now, it all makes a bit more clear for me, that's for sure," Crowley comments sitting back "at least for the part of why we haven't heard anything yet."

"It does?" Aziraphale questions back confused.

"Indeed it does, Angel."

"Well, care to share?"

He rolls his eyes "What it means, Angel, is that we haven't heard anything yet, because the upstairs has still managed to keep it from leaking out, and that is a good thing for us."

"It is? How so?" Aziraphel was even more confused now.

"It means," Crowlys begins standig up and puts his sunglasses back on "we still have some time to think of a plan on how to save our arses. Again. So, chop chop, Angel, we gotta roll!"

"Whaat? We have to leave immediately?" Aziraphale stands up reluctantly "Ohh, but we didn't even get our food yet!"

Crowly lets out somewhat annoyed growl and grabs Aziraphale hand "Trust me, Angel, not getting our food is the least problem in comparsion to what is waiting for us. Now, lets go."

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #good omens oneshot #good omens crowley #good omens aziraphale #good omens aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands

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fanfic-chan · 4 months

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Tokyo Revengers Boys When You're Sick

Ft: Mikey, Draken, Takemitchy, Mitsuya, Baji, Hakkai, Chifuyu, Nahoya (Smiley), and Souya (Angry)

Creators Note: These were inspired by the fact that I am very much ill rn, and decided to write about these guys to cheer myself up! Ik it's not the typical theme of my writing, but I hope you guys will enjoy them regardless!^^

Tagging: @duckymcdoorknob @ticklish-n-stuff @nataliewritez

Mikey:

Honestly? He's not exactly the best option, but he's not the worst either.

For the most part, he's pretty chill for a caretaker, so for things like minor colds and stuff, he's actually the preferred choice for most of the gang members.

He's the type to sit and watch TV with you while you recover, and gives you ice cream or popsicles to soothe your throat. He also takes full advantage of the opportunity to make a blanket fort. Says it's to cheer you up, which is partly true.... But he also just really loves blanket forts.

He'll try to bribe you into taking medicine, but won't force you too, since he's also hesitant with taking the nasty cough syrups and pills that make you drowsy, so if it's not too bad, he might consider letting you off the hook.

Also, sorry to disappoint, but he can't cook worth a flip, so all of the chicken soup you get is gonna be from a can and cooked in the microwave. Half the time it's not even warmed up enough, but he tries his best nonetheless, and he'll keep reheating it as many times as it takes to get you to eat something.

Absolutely believes gatorade is a cure all and makes you drink a ridiculous amount of it while you're recovering. He thinks the yellow kind is a sin though and if you ask for it, he'll look at you with so much disdain in that moment that you'll wonder if he's plotting to murder you.

Overall, a great option if you're only suffering from something minor, but if you're really, really sick? Best to call someone a little more strict to put you on the right track to recovery!

Draken:

100% the mother hen of the group. I'm taking no criticism on this.

He doesn't exactly hover, but he is the type to check in on you periodically, and weaseling your way out of bed is going to be near impossible without a good excuse.

He won't take any bullcrap about medicine either, so unlike Mikey, you're not going to get much leeway with him, no matter how insignificant the illness.

If you ask him nicely, he might allow you to watch TV for a while if you're not too ill, but it comes at the cost of having to take a proper nap later.

If you have a fever though? Sorry about your luck. He might give you a book to entertain yourself but you're not getting out of that bed until your temperature is back to normal.

His style of care usually results in a lot of boredom for his reluctant patients, but on the flip side, they always recover remarkably quickly, so no one can really complain.

Takemitchy:

Takemitchy is definitely the type of guy to rush straight over with multiple bags worth of pharmacy supplies the second he hears someone is ill.

He's a bit of a nervous wreck about it, but he's actually not half bad at taking care of people when they're sick.

I feel like his adult side tends to present itself a lot more during times like this, especially with those that are really sick. It kind of baffles people how mature he sounds at these times.

He'll speak soothingly to them as he presses a cool cloth to their head, and always handles any of the tedious work involved with a smile.

His main goal is to make his patients as comfortable as he can, but he can also be surprisingly insistent when it comes to medicine and keeping them hydrated. Not Draken levels of strict, but he's not like Mikey either. He usually ends up resorting to some form of bribery.

He's a pretty good person to rely on during times like this... Except for the fact that he almost always ends up catching it too not long after... Oops.^^`

Hakkai:

He's admittedly a bit of a nervous wreck, probably worst than Takemitchy to be honest.

Given the type of upbringing he had, he's not very experienced with things like this, but he'll do his best nonetheless.

He's the type to go to the pharmacy and get at least 3-5 different types of the same medicine just to be sure he gets something you can take. The poor pharmacy workers usually have to help him pick out what he actually needs so he doesn't try to buy half the store.

Constantly calls and texts Mitsuya the entire time for advice. Eventually to the point he just comes over himself to help after he gets the fourth call wondering if he should bring you to the hospital because you sneezed a little too hard.

Once he gets the hang of things, he'd probably be pretty okay at it, but he definitely needs some practice.

He's very gentle and only wants the best for the person he's caring for, so even if he doesn't quite know what he's doing, he'll put his best foot forward regardless.

Not the best option when it comes to overall experience, but if you give him a chance, he'll do his best to help you all he can until you're better.

Mitsuya:

Andddd, the second mother hen of Toman enters the chat.

Absolutely knows what he's doing the entire time, and is probably the most knowledgeable out of all the Toman guys when it comes to this kind of stuff.

He's taken care of both his little sisters for years, so he has plenty of practice with all kinds of random colds and stomach bugs.

Has a whole arsenal of different natural remedies that he's acquired over the years to help speed up recovery and relieve symptoms.

He's pretty similar to Draken in a lot of ways when it comes to care, but he's also a little softer about it if that makes sense?

Has a bad habit of shifting into older brother mode with his patients, and will often slip up by saying his sisters' names when he's preoccupied and talking to them, running his fingers through their hair, putting on cartoons, tucking them in, humming, etc.

He often gets teased about this, but he doesn't really take it to heart and usually just laughs it off. No one really minds it anyway, and most see it as just one of his more endearing traits. Some even find it comforting, though they won't admit it.

He also doesn't get sick very easily, and rarely ends up catching anything himself, so telling him to stay away for fear of spreading it to him won't deter him much.

Maybe I'm being biased just a little, but he'd absolutely be my first choice. Mitsuya knows his stuff.

Chifuyu:

Has absolutely no idea what the heck he's doing.

He'll show up to your house with a ton of random supplies, though half of them don't even make any sense. Amongst all the saltines, soup cans, and cough syrup, there are a bunch of things that even he doesn't know why he brought them. He just packed/bought them out of panic and impulse.

"Chifuyu.... Why is there a 5lb bag of gummy bears in here?" "...You don't like gummy bears? 🥺"

That sort of thing.

Once he gets the hang of it, he's not that bad at it, but he's definitely very awkward and nervous about it.

He's somewhat hovery, but more in a distant sort of way, since he's afraid to make you feel worse. He'll kinda just watch you from the kitchen while you sleep on the couch, or he'll pop his head in your door 40 times per hour if you're in your room.

He reads the back of the medicine bottle at least seven times for fear of overdosing you.

Totally forgets to look at the front label because of it, and unintentionally knocks you out cold for seven hours with NyQuil.

He still hasn't stopped apologizing for that yet.

Baji:

Baji is.... Admittedly not the best person to call for this sort of thing.

Depending on who you are, he might even hang up when you call complaining about your cold, telling you to 'keep your germs to yourself' and to 'man up' lol.

On the off chance that he does decide to come help you out though, he'll do his best, but much like Chifuyu, he's very inexperienced at this kind of stuff

Baji is the type to ride out his illnesses the hard way, and he treats his patients no differently.

Soup? That's for wimps. Just eat a peanut butter sandwich or something.

Medicine? That's not how you build an immune system. You stomp that illness into the ground with nothing but blood, sweat, and tears.

In most cases, he'll end up having to call Draken to come bail him out cause he made the person he's taking care of cry.

His only good trait is that he's basically a walking space heater, so if you can trick or bribe him into sitting next to you, you get a heating pad that doesn't need any electricity or to be reheated.

Makes up for everything else tbh.

Souya and Nahoya:

Ultimate good cop, bad cop duo. Angry being the good cop in this situation, while Smiley is the bad cop. Ironic right?

Smiley is more the tough love type who makes you take your medicine, eat, stay hydrated, etc.

He won't admit it, but he honestly gets a bit of a kick out of watching their grossed out faces after taking medicine. It's half the reason he even agreed to this in the first place.

Angry, on the other hand, is the type that gets super empathetic about it. Super cuddly and sweet, and he's eager to do whatever it takes to help you get back on your feet.

His one problem is that he tends to get sick a lot easier than Smiley, so it usually ends with both of you being sick and being taken care of by the older twin for the last half.

Yeah. Mr. "Murder! Yay!" Is going to be you guys' nurse for the duration of your sickness. Good luck...

But at least you have someone to suffer and watch stupid shows with?...

#dessie writes #tokyo revengers headcanons #sick headcanons #tokyo revengers #mikey tokyo revengers #draken tokyo revengers #takemitchy tokyo revengers #baji tokyo revengers #chifuyu tokyo revengers #smiley tokyo revengers #angry tokyo revengers #hakkai tokyo revengers #mitsuya tokyo revengers

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sinisterexaggerator · 3 months

Text

Friends In Low Places (part 1 )

Tech and Hondo Ohnaka

Rated: Teen and up (a rare general audiences fic on my part.)

Warning: Violence, death, injury, all comparable to what we see in The Bad Batch, stealing, foul language, sass, pain mention, broken bones mention, secrets, fight or flight.

Summary: Tech is plummeting toward death, yet he is spared, all thanks to a Weequay pirate who was simply in the wrong place at the right time, depending.

Word count: 5k+

Notes: This is a kind of crack / AU scenario. I like the idea of Hondo being the one to encounter Tech after his fall. The idea was definitely inspired my Phee's line at the end of season 2: "Well, don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers while you're gone," and by an ask I got from @spicedrobot :) Don't take this too seriously, though at the same time I tried to make it plausible. The main point of this was to have fun with Tech and Hondo ribbing each other in their own way. I love both of these characters, and I am excited to see what you guys think.

P.S.: This will have a few more chapters, but I am sure I will not be able to finish this before Wednesday (the season 3 premiere), though I do intend to keep writing this story no matter what happens in canon.

Read on Ao3

Tech had only milliseconds to formulate a plan of action, yet there was nothing that could be done.

A dense fog stretched on for what felt like kilometers, the world below advancing swiftly as he descended. His head whipped to the left and right, the remnants of the railcar bearing down on him with regrettable rapidity.

There was not anything to grapple onto, nothing to prevent his fall.

The clone craned his neck; there was a rumbling sound the likes of which sublight engines made, the distinctive shape of a ship materializing like a phantom from the breadths of the mist. From this unnatural angle, it appeared to be 55.52 meters in length, painted brown and gray with yellow detailing, some additional markings on its nose and sides.

There was no time, much like he had told Wrecker moments earlier.

Tech disengaged from the length of cord that was still attached to the hunk of metal threatening to overtake him, his unmoored form slamming hard into duralloy, a resounding thud most likely heard by all within. At the same time, the tail end of the railcar met the tail end of the unknown vessel he had landed upon, hazardous debris shooting off in one direction while an electrical discharge and the beginnings of a fire sparked to life shortly thereafter.

Alarms sounded; he heard voices rising in fear and anger. He tried to breathe, clinging desperately to shreds of the ship’s hull as it began to make a nosedive toward a vast expanse of trees. He could not decide what might be worse: being crushed by the massive weight of the railcar, or shredded to pieces in what was sure to be a nasty crash.

Tech sat up; he stood, albeit shakily, activating the appropriate leg muscles to tighten his grip and stay his balance, even as the starship tipped. Once the canopy of the trees beneath him was within range, he sprinted with all his remaining energy, running to the closest edge.

Leaping as far as his momentum would carry him, Tech braced for impact, the first of what must be a thousand branches pummeling his body as he dropped, once again, toward the ground.

---

Two brown eyes fluttered open at the sound of a tenacious grunt; something or someone was attempting to acquire his right boot. In his delirium, the clone could not understand what one would do with it, noting that the two came as a pair. He moved to speak, though he found it difficult for his vocal cords to produce sound, the onset of a splitting headache having silenced him from protesting against this attempt at robbery.

“Hmm?” a deeply resonate hum filled his ears, the voice belonging to a face he could not see; it appeared that his eyewear had been lost in the fall, Tech left in a world full of undefined shapes and vague outlines in comparison to what he was used to; it was a thing that worried him despite there being so much else to worry about.

Currently, it was the theft of his shoe.

“Oh, uh—” there was a clearing of this person’s throat, “—you are not dead.”

“No,” Tech managed, beginning to flex his fingers as he stretched them in turn, determining if one or many of them were broken - so far so good.

“Den... I shall come back later,” this oddly vivacious voice declared, the rustling of nearby foliage signaling to Tech that he was lying in a bed of something fibrous and soft.

Eriadu. He was still on Eriadu. A series of factoids flooded his overtaxed mind.

A terrestrial planet in the Eriadu system of the Seswenna sector, Eriadu is located in the Outer Rim. Known for its varied geophysical elements, it is defined by landforms such as mountains and jungles—

The canopy - the native flora - he assumed, had slowed his descent. It was the last thing he remembered before his vision inevitably went dark.

“I—I will be needing that boot.” His voice sounded unlike himself, weak and pained. His chest burned, though he was sure had it not been for his armor, he would be dead. Reaching out with limbs that were sore and stiff, Tech found the grass beneath and around him to be dense, yet spongy.

A part of a larger family, either Poaceae, Cyperaceae, or Juncaceae, this monocotyledonous plant had narrow leaves, hollow stems, and clusters of very small, usually wind-pollinated flowers— though Tech could not tell given his present condition. Grown for either food, fodder, or ground cover, this particular variety had helped to save his life and occurred naturally, much to his silent thanks.

“Deeey are not my size, anyway,” the previously ebullient voice replied, now having taken on a dry and dour tone. He felt movement and heard a “thwack” at what he theorized was his boot returned to him, the crunch of vegetation being trampled underfoot accompanying the retreat of the mysterious figure.

“Wait,” this clone called out, the form before him turning to glance over his shoulder.

“You look like him. Are you… one of dem?” the man questioned, Tech not having an answer as his inquiry was incomplete; it lacked specifics, yet he surmised he meant one thing.

“Are you speaking of Jango Fett?” Tech asked, hands pressing against earth for fingers to splay apart as he used his forearms to halfway right himself, though it was tough going.

“Ah, so you are,” the man replied, traipsing forward through the grass in Tech’s direction once again; his black boots were the only thing clearly visible at this height and at this range - he had his own, so why did he need his?

“I thought so. A clone, den, but you look… so different. Skinnier. Sort of, how you say, sickly. Not at all like my dear old friend...”

Tech brushed off his insults, not taking offense, as that sort of thing did not interest him. He cared not what others thought about his outward appearance, as he knew that it was what is on the inside that counts.

“I am a member of an experimental unit that was engineered with an enhanced mental capacity and superior intelligen—”

“Dat es all fine, well, and good, but. BUT. You look ab-so-lute-ly terrible. I am… surprised dat with de level of damage tu your factory-made armor, you are still among de living.”

Then, Hondo paused, as if thinking about something. “Yes, yes… perhaps you are of his ilk, after all.”

“I need to get back to my brothers; to Omega—”

“—Indeed. I am en a bit of a predicament, tuu, you see—”

“—They are in danger, the Empire—”

“—De Empire shot. me. down!” this man practically yelled, overcome with a sudden, zealous anger. Though not privy to the exact way his beloved, modified luxury yacht had been taken out, assumptions could. be. made!

Tech thought perhaps it was in his best interest not to admit he may have had something to do with it, although it had been out of his control.

“You would tink dey have never seen a Weequay pilot a SoroSuub 3000 over restricted airspace before,” the man continued, Tech taking this time to slip his boot back on. “Why, I even masked its signature! But de area was swarming with activity from de moment I arrived,” he was quick to claim, Tech staring up at the blurry sentient who was much too loud for his pounding head.

“Lower your voice. Someone is bound to hear you, and I do not think that—”

“—Are you giving Hondo a command?”

“—we should remain here for much longer.”

“I am not one of your subordinates; I am Hondo Ohnaka! De king of pirates, and captain of de notorious Ohnaka Gang,” the being professed, Tech noting his hand to be wafting in the air. “Ef et were not for being dragged entu your war, I might still be sitting pretty, hm?”

Hondo did not want to think on his ravaged base. At least his ships had been safely stowed away beneath the desert, residing in a spacious, private vault of his own design. He also did not want to think about how his favorite amongst them was now nothing more than bits of twisted and charred shrapnel; it would never again grace the skies or soar amidst the stars.

Then, he seemed to rethink things, the Weequay emitting a low growl in disapproval. “Mn… But I suppose dis es not your war, either. You were… created en a lab,” he finished, Tech’s attention having waned to the point he was now searching the surrounding area with both hands, looking for his goggles.

Studying the clone commando down the tip of his nose, Hondo found a new topic to speak on rather quickly. “You are very, very lucky,” he informed him, “what wit you not yet being dead, and for Hondo tu be here at de very same time. Tell me, what was dat other explosion I heard?” he asked curiously, the self-named pirate king bending forward at the waist to hunch over the wounded man.

“Our mission should have been straight-forward, but it was a failure,” Tech stated matter of fact. “It was complicated by the presence of Saw Gerrera; he sought to bring down the entire Imperial facility when our goal was to install a homing-beacon on one particular ship that—”

“—Ah, you speak of ships! Yes, yes… Dat es what I need,” Hondo glossed over the rest of the conversation, ignoring Saw's mention entirely and the series of unfortunate events that had led Tech to this place. “But tanks tu you and your little playmates, de planet es now crawling with Imperial forces, more so dan usual, I suspect!

Another pause. “Are you not… Imperial?”

Tech was tempted to ignore the question. “No, I am not. However, it seems we are both in need of the same thing,” Tech snapped back, his temper rising. “Though it would benefit me to find my goggles,” he added wryly. “I do not suppose you might help with that.”

“You supposed correctly!” this Hondo fellow confirmed with a smile in his obnoxiously jovial voice. “Unless…” he trailed off. “Dere es something en et for me, perhaps?" Never mind he knew what it was like to desire one’s own eyewear should it be lost or taken from you; at the moment it did not matter, nor did he care.

Tech sighed, already exasperated. “You said you are a pirate. I happen to know one such similar person, a treasure hunter by the name of Phee Genoa. Perhaps there is something of value that can be traded if we manage to leave Eriadu alive. My destination would be the planet Pabu. It is where I exp—”

“Phee Genoa?!” Hondo asked, exhilarated. “Why, I have not seen her en years!” He turned his back, something red and splotchy nearly hitting Tech in the face. It was this scoundrel’s coat, though unable to make it out for what it was.

“Pabu…” his voice darkened, Tech not noticing the way this devil’s eyes lit up, glinting behind worn transparisteel as his lip curled upward in a toothy grin.

Wheeling back around, Tech was nearly smacked a second time by the brigand’s foppish attire, raising one arm to protect himself as this Ohnaka brandished a finger toward the dark pall that hung over the sharp and dangerous cliffside, settling just above the jungle’s canopy. “So, DAT es where she has been hiding… What a wily, enterprising woman she es…”

Tech felt a pang like he had not felt before, not in the least bit enjoying the shade this man had taken when he had mentioned Phee by name. He also wondered if he should have brought up Pabu in conversation at all, mentally scolding himself, even though this stranger was no friend to the Empire.

“Is it a refugee planet,” he reminded himself, knowing that Pabu’s location was not exactly a secret, only that their presence there ultimately put many lives at risk, and that Phee had been kind enough to take them in.

“Do you know her?” Tech asked, attempting to mask the unsettling feeling that lingered in his gut. Then, he thought to pose another question. “And just what are you doing here?” he queried harshly, unable to prevent the acerbic inflection that was produced alongside his curiosity.

Ohnaka chuckled, easily deducing he had struck a nerve. Tucking that bit of information away for later, he placed two fingers along the outside of his swoop-goggles and gave them a gentle tug. “You see deese?” he inquired.

“No,” Tech answered brusquely.

The Weequay frowned, at once understanding his meaning and correcting himself accordingly by giving a more thorough explanation; he was walking, or rather crawling, blind. “Lommite,” Hondo whispered with a sinister air. “You see, et es—”

“—a type of ore considered to be one of the primary constituent materials of transparisteel, durasteel, starfighter canopies, and dura-armor. It is mined on both the planet Didyma five and here on Eriadu. Chalky in both texture and coloring, lommite is often utilized by artists and can be molded like clay for—”

“—My dear child,” Hondo interrupted as he had so rudely been, “you forgot one ting en your quite elaborate and unnecessary explanation.”

Tech brushed off what was meant to be another insult, struggling to stand on his feet. The rogue commando would groan in pain and straighten out; he would tower over the other man if he could only manage to keep proper posture, as he was in too much quiet agony to do so. He ascertained two of his ribs were broken, and that his already injured femur had incurred another setback, though he only stared blankly ahead, thinking hard on what it was he may have missed in his otherwise accurate description of the mineral in question.

“Et es easy money,” Hondo finally offered, clasping his hands together in front of his ornate belt buckle as he observed the clone rise with great difficulty. Not commenting on his physical condition – yet – Hondo began to circle around the boy, for that is exactly what he was. A young man in the prime of life, forced to spend it perhaps not how he saw fit, but with a blaster in his hand and a bucket on his head.

“En fact, dere es a mining operation not tuu far from here – one with ships!” Hondo finalized, Tech squinting to barely make out the excited expression the Weequay sported on his striated face; he had waltzed back around.

“And you plan to steal it,” Tech stated flatly, his body turning slowly toward the left as he began scouting for any differences among the grass; he was looking for something gray and yellow, with a recording device affixed to its side. He would even settle for something large and bulky: his helmet. Unbeknownst to Tech, it had bounced off his head once his body had landed roughly in the grass; at least it had stayed on for the majority of his troubling descent.

“What else would one du with et? Bury et like treasure tu come back for later?” Hondo asked in a petulant, derisive tone.

“Is that not what pirates do?” Tech retorted, his own tone less than amused. He managed to locate his bucket in some nearby brush, inspecting it for damage. His visor was cracked as well as the circumaural radio muffs that allowed him to communicate at close range with his squad. He tapped his vambrace with two fingers as he held on loosely to his headgear; the components within sizzled and sparked. He was in fact stranded here, and without a way to comm for help.

Then, he had an idea. One that was better than nothing.

The pirate scoffed, Tech ignoring his theatrics to readorn his battered helmet. He flipped the visor down. Though the head-up display had a hairline fracture that split apart into various directions, it was still somewhat functional. He felt suddenly elated, though this was only a small victory.

“Perhaps you are… unable tu understand when I am joking, for however smart you say you are,” Ohnaka quipped.

“It hardly seems worth the effort,” Tech commented in regard to his poorly thought out plan.

“Ap-Ap-Ap!” the Weequay interrupted viciously, “—dat es where you are wrong, my friend.”

“I am not your friend,” Tech said in his defense, “and I am seldom wrong.”

“I am betting dat you are,” Hondo rejoined callously, all teeth.

Tech did not speak for a moment, gathering his thoughts. One bit of local history came to mind, a fascinating story that pertained to the current topic of conversation. “Have you ever heard of the pirate queen Q'anah?”

Hondo narrowed oblique, gray eyes, “And what of her?”

“Well,” Tech began, “Eriadu used to be a frequent target for pirates, marauders, and privateers. Lommite shipments leaving the planet on their way to the Core were of particular interest to these pirate gangs. This planet formed their own paramilitary group, which was named the Outland Regions Security Force; they attempted to handle the situation by themselves. This force found itself to be stretched too thin to deal with the problem on a more permanent basis, the pirate threat becoming far worse when multiple gangs formed an alliance under the leadership of queen Q'anah.”

“Take a breath, why don’t you?” Hondo chided, though truth be told he loved a good story, even if it was one he had already heard, and, more often than not, he preferred to be the one telling them, however humoring the clone only so much as he desired.

Tech disregarded him, continuing unperturbed. “Eriadu Mining and Shipping was ingeniously outsmarted by Q'anah's Marauders, who brought the mining company to the brink of bankruptcy. The raids ended when Wilhuff Tarkin, a then lieutenant in the Outland's anti-piracy task force, managed to crack the sequence Q'anah used to decide which specific lommite containers she would target.”

“What a decidedly smart woman she must have—”

“—the same Wilhuff Tarkin who is working under the authority of the Galactic Empire, the man whose home base sits at the top of Raven’s Peak,” Tech pointed out, having just come from there only a few minutes ago. Or perhaps it was hours now; he did not know for sure.

“Uhh— Uh-huh,” Hondo offered in response, not able to come up with anything more articulate than that.

“He managed to infect the chosen lommite containers' hyperdrive motivators with a virus that would spread to the pirate’s vessels, forcing their navigational computers to override the coordinates entered to instead deliver the ships to the waiting Outland Security Forces.”

“Mhm, mhm, yes, alllll very fascinating, but I du not see what dis has tu du with—”

“—Q'anah's reign ended abruptly when Tarkin ordered that Q’anah and her crew be placed into empty shipping containers that would be subsequently programmed to slowly pilot themselves into the sector's sun. The feed from within the container was broadcasted live as the pirates were slowly roasted to death in order to strike terror into the hearts of anyone who dared to follow in Q'anah's footsteps.”

Hondo cleared his throat, turning his back on the chatty clone. “Dat other planet you mentioned, er, Daddy fiv—”

“—Didyma five—”

“—Perhaps et would make for an easier target, but—”

Tech scrutinized the man, or that part of him which he could barely pick out against a backdrop of tall trees, opening his mouth to counter his assumption.

Hondo added something more; he had not been finished. “Dere es one thing you failed tu mention, however.”

Tech sighed, fiddling with the settings on his visor, aiming to adjust its current configuration to display the heat signatures of sentient beings. All living things gave off infrared energy to a degree. It was with this knowledge that Tech was able to bypass - and even solve - his current dilemma, the one in which he was unable to see, despite it being only possible between a dizzying variety of crisscrossing fractures and uneven lines.

“And what might that be?” he asked, words clipped.

“De fact dat I am Hondo Ohnaka,” the Weequay sneered, gazing at him from over his armored shoulder plate, “and Hondo Ohnaka survives. every. time.”

In fact, he just had survived yet again! Not a scratch on him; it was more than he could say for his poor men.

Tech was not impressed, assessing his DC-17 blaster pistols to make sure that they were still operational. “Who or what you are is irrelevant,” he began, “what matters is finding a mode of transportation that will get us out of here, preferably undetected.”

“Irrelevant to whom?” Hondo Ohnaka asked, already beady eyes constricting further into slits as his prominent brow ridge bowed inward, Tech not reacting to his sudden change in mood. The commando had, without much effort, gotten under the scoundrel’s skin. To deny Hondo’s importance or notoriety within the galaxy at large was perhaps the biggest insult one could have placed upon the Weequay; his reputation preceded him! How dare he suggest otherwise!

“What is relevant is—” Tech was not sure why he hadn’t thought to ask yet, his train of thought derailed before he could finish one sentence to complete another, “—do you have a comlink?”

Hondo huffed, turning back around. “Ef I had a comlink, du you not tink dat I would be hailing my crew —what es left of dem—” Hondo mumbled, “— for a much-needed rescue? Granted, should my frigate meet ets end at de greedy, grubby hands of de Empire, den, I will be very, very angry. I am not… well liked when I am angry,” he stated in a low, gruff tone.

“Did you arrive here alone? There is security in numbers,” Tech could not help but to inquire, though he thought he already knew the answer; he had heard multiple voices cry out during the ship’s descent.

“I ded not come alone!” Hondo assured him indignantly, “my co-pilot was killed en de crash.”

Tech had nothing to say for once, simply keeping his eyes trained on the man. Part of him felt like it was his own fault. He weighed his options on coming clean.

Already this Weequay was unpredictable; he easily decided to continue holding his tongue.

“…As were two others of my men—” Hondo grumbled, “—dey ded not seem tu understand de meaning of safety. I told dem, boys, strap en! But—splat! A very ugly ting tu witness.”

A few seconds elapsed; Hondo glared. “Since my name es of noooo importance tu you, I hesitate tu ask what yours es,” he stated, obviously rankled.

“I am Tech,” the clone said without fanfare, much unlike his current company.

“Tech,” Hondo repeated slowly. “Tech, who es nothing like Jango; du you have any other bright ideas?”

“Yes,” he replied.

Hondo groaned a displeased sound, yet he could not help but wonder what this brainiac had come up with. Currently, he was thinking about how he could use this child-soldier to his benefit, not above cutting and running should the need arise.

“Enlighten me, oh smart one,” he derided.

“Though I do not have my goggles, my visor will read the heat signature of any living thing. I may have trouble with inanimate objects, not to mention my heads-up display is damaged, but if we work together, perhaps we can make it to the mining facility to procure—”

“—Ah, so you are not above stealing,” Hondo cut him off.

“When the situation calls for it,” he answered succinctly.

“So verrrry wise, you are,” Hondo offered, sarcasm lacing his butter-smooth baritone.

Just then, voices could be heard in the near distance; they sounded human, eager. Hondo bristled and pulled a vibrocutlass from its sheath as Tech reached for his pistols.

The clone did a doubletake, catching the sword's outline thanks to its vibration. When molecules vibrate, they are known to bump into one another, thus transferring kinetic energy to other molecules. Sometimes, this energy radiates outwardly as heat; Tech was more than a bit surprised. “That is an odd choice.”

Hondo glanced to the clone, then into the thick of the forest. When Tech did not cease his unrelenting stare, Hondo turned back to face him. “Es dere a problem?”

Before Tech could answer, a bolt of blaster fire whizzed past his head. He had only marginally shifted to the right in the nick of time, the readout on his display having flashed a warning as the plasma ray came rushing toward him.

“I suggest we run,” Tech said cursorily.

“What a highly intelligent ting tu say,” Hondo mocked.

Though in an exorbitant amount of pain from head to foot, somehow Tech found the wherewithal to push forward, dashing past the pirate to head into the cover of Eriadu’s jungle, albeit with a limp and heavy breathing.

“Just where are you going without me?” Hondo called out, turning tail to follow in pursuit. “And very slowly, might I add,” he commented, reflecting on the hobbled gait of Tech just a few feet away.

The Weequay groused churlishly as a small group of white-clad soldiers appeared before them. A bolt ricochet off the tip of his cutlass, Hondo having blocked the incoming shot to send it flying back at their enemies. “You don’t even know where de facility es!”

“You should lead the way,” Tech admitted, releasing multiple rounds of fire into oncoming TK Troopers, striking two down with ease. He watched, impressed despite himself, as Hondo Ohnaka sliced the neck of one man and shot another through his plastoid armor with what appeared to be a DL series heavy blaster of some kind; he had withdrawn it from a holster against his hip.

“What an astute observation!” he remarked sardonically, “yooou watch my back, and I will watch our front, yes?”

Hondo was not expecting a reply, nor did he wait for one, putting holes through two more troopers as they vied to overtake them.

Searching within the appropriate pouch strapped to his thigh, Tech withdrew a sonic-based grenade, setting the trigger for a five-second delay. Tossing it with skilled precision, the device detonated, clearing the way for them to move forward through the woods.

“A few tricks up your sleeves, ah?” the pirate called back, having stopped momentarily to catch his breath; he was not as young as he once was, a notion he only seemed to remember when in the heat of battle.

“That was a sonic detonator,” Tech explained for no reason whatsoever, “it emits an oscillated pulse that—”

“Da-da-da-da,” Hondo interjected, snapping as if this man were his own underling,“Iiiiii know what dat was. Now, keep moving, or du you not tink dat you can manage dat?”

The scalawag had squinched deeply, exaggerating his expression to denote that he had not failed to observe Tech’s current condition, which happened to be poor. Even though having this pirate for company was less than ideal, without him, he was unsure if he would be able to escape; Tarkin, or Hemlock himself, had already deployed men to smoke them out. His chances were slim at best.

“Perhaps we can come to some kind of understanding,” Tech offered, already comprehending quite clearly that this man was money driven. While credits were not something he had a lot of, with the help of the others, and hopefully Phee, he would be able to afford to pay him off.

“An agreement?” Hondo nonchalantly tapped the dull, flat side of his blade against the curvature of his shoulder. “You mean you would like tu… make a deal?” he asked, his question not without skepticism, yet Hondo was always game when it came to profits; it was more than obvious his interest was piqued.

“I do not wish for you to run away and leave me behind,” Tech stated concisely, thinking that in this situation honesty was the best policy, although deserving to be withheld in others; he could not remember a time that it was not before now. “The extent of my injuries must have you alarmed.”

Hondo seesawed his head to the left and right, waving his hand and the blaster held by it carelessly in the air. “Eh.”

Tech managed to ignore this, too. “It is plain to see that you are driven by material wealth. We spoke briefly about compensation. I want to be clear: I can promise you the sum of five-thousand credits if you are willing to escort me both to the mining facility, and to find my family.”

“Family?”

“Yes, I mentioned them earlier before you interr—”

“—Five-thousand credits es… paltry at best…”

Hondo tensed; he stopped moving, the tap-tap-tapping of his vibrocutlass coming to a pause. His face hardened as he appeared to observe the man for the first time, his dark gaze traveling the clone from head to foot.

“And what family could a clone possibly have?” Hondo grit his teeth, knowing better than to ask that question.

Tech’s muscles tightened, his mouth forming a thin line. “My brothers are my family; Omega is my family."

“You have so many brothers... Just how many of dem are d’ere?” He did not bother to ask who Omega was.

“They are a part of my Squad. We are a team,” Tech squared his shoulders, not understanding why he had to justify the terminology he had used.

“I see…” His answer was sufficient, tugging the scoundrel’s heartstrings juuuuust enough.

Ah, if only his men were so loyal…

Hondo was no doctor, but he could both sense and see that this boy was on his last reserves. His republic armor had been modified, but it was still beat to shit, cracked in places from whatever chaos had previously ensued. Not to mention, he was compensating for his unfortunately flawed eyesight through that helmet of his; curious, as Jango had a perfect 20/20 and never wore spectacles a day in his life.

The red-clad devil sighed, filling his lungs completely so as to exhale unhurriedly through broad, flaring nostrils. And just like that, he turned on his Pirate’s Honor, sheathing his sword though he kept his blaster on hand.

“I suppose you may come en handy,” Hondo said flippantly, not wanting to admit he had a weakness for sob stories, and especially those that had to do with… family.

He allowed himself to reminiscence on his poor, sweet mother for a time, thinking of a piece of advice she had once proffered him:

“Hondo, someone else’s urgency is your opportunity.” Truer words had never been spoken.

Finally, he straightened his hunched back and tutted. “Yes, yes, yes, come with me, and we shall survive dis, ah? Or. My name es not Hondo Ohnaka! And I can assure you dat et es,” he confirmed, as if there had been any doubt.

Besides, thought Hondo, there was no reason not to keep this fellow around a while longer; his family was missing him, after all. Perhaps they would be willing to bargain more than credits. If they were stationed on Pabu as this Tech had said, the treasures housed within its renown Archium would more than cover his expenses; a greedy glint twinkled in his eye.

“I owe you my gratitude,” Tech replied, shifting his weight on the leg that in fact hurt less, yet was still not free from pain.

“Ahhh, but you owe me more dan dat. Do. not. forget, my friend,” Hondo stated, repeating the descriptor Tech had already once denied; his face had split apart into two halves as his grin spread from ear to ear. Then, he turned, beginning to walk - though a little bit more slowly – into the depths of Eriadu’s wilderness.

Tech felt unnerved despite their accord, thinking the Weequay’s smile was suspect if not downright suspicious of something greater, something being hidden beneath the contrived contracting of all fifty-three of his facial muscles. But for the moment, he chose to trust him. There was not much else he could do, a reoccurring theme over the course of the last few hours.

Remaining guarded and forever watchful, as best he could be in his current state, Tech trundled forward, surrendering himself to whatever else was likely to occur.

---

Comments and reblogs much appreciated! Thanks for reading!

Part 2 coming soon.

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otaku553 · 9 months

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How goes the fma x albedo fic? I hope that doesn't sound pushy, I'm genuinely curious. And in that vein, do you have any little drabbles you may have written or want to write? Especially with your recent kny ocs/yourself and your siblings. That'd be super fun to read about! Your art AND your writing is so freaking good, the moment I see you've posted something new on your blog I'm clicking it so fast. Same with your ao3 account ❤️

Thank you for the kind words!!! Currently not working on any fics, since I just came out of 10 weeks of summer research where my days began at 8 am and ended at 9 pm for probably less than minimum wage hahaha (doing research is a Bit Sad but I get a whole month to relax before classes start again so thank goodness for that)

I do however!!! Have a lot of plans!!! If you’re interested you can read more below!

Plans include but are not limited to:

Finally working on Homuncular Nature again!! I definitely do have a lot of plans and cool scenes playing out in my head for the next chapter, it’ll just come down to when I actually put pen to paper (or stylus to iPad) to actually organize and write them all. The road block I think is that I have seen neither Albedo nor fmab very recently and all my concrete ideas are for around the 30 episode mark for fmab, the turning point with the first actual confrontation against father and the subsequent Briggs arc.

Rewriting Ten Thousand Maple Leaves! A lot of people have been very kind but I think I missed the mark with my first chapter to be honest. My writing has gotten a lot wordier and less succinct, which feels like I’m filling a chapter more with fluff and unnecessary description than actual content. I think I also dislike how I characterized Sanemi and how quickly Kazuha was willing to agree with things. Writing both of them is kind of a difficult challenge tbh! I think in rewriting it I want to give back to Kazuha more of his vagrant role in the games, where he is avoiding the law for reasons somewhat out of his control.

Ebisu siblings content! I think it might be fun to try having them interact with more of the canon characters in kny but I also think there’s some value in a complete sort of outsider point of view when inserting characters into a piece of media. I feel like whenever I see self inserts I see a lot of ocs making themselves indispensable and making meaningful relationships with existing characters that way and that’s totally valid! That’s a lot of what I do for crossovers as well. I think when it comes to my own ocs though, I want them to feel grounded in some form and the reality of it is that none of the characters I make based on myself or real people are that impressive or remarkable. But I also think there’s a lot of value in showing smaller scale things outside of the main interactions and plot to show that even though we aren’t remarkable, we still have our own meaningful connections and ideologies and stories :) in the end the Ebisu siblings are a lot more visual though so I may just continue making doodles and art without writing anything haha

Kirby & Meta Knight ageswap AU: I was mostly doing this on my ask-gikabi sideblog in short form comics, but I lost sight of what I wanted to do after making the discord and starting to interact with some of the people who followed it. I think a lot of people are inspired and have their own very cool ideas that I wanted to take into account but then eventually it was no longer my story or the story I wanted to tell, which is why I’m thinking of restarting it as a fic. This one is still in very rough idea stage though, I have honestly no clue how I’m even going to begin organizing it

Yanfei ace attorney crossover: this one’s just pure crack lmao I would definitely write it as crack taken seriously but I think this is fun to explore just for small ideas that pop up every now and then, i.e. yanfei is semi-immortal because she’s half adeptus so it would be Really Funny to me if she showed up in dgs era, got her attorney’s license, went into hiding after it became obvious that she wasn’t aging, and then re-emerged after rebranding herself as her own daughter or granddaughter. That, and I have a lot of fun imagining someone as pragmatic as yanfei trying to get through the sheer chaos of aa despite being otherworldly

Continuing winter weather advisory: I got to a really good point in that fic and was rereading it today like,,, damn I wrote that? And it would be fun to see where I planned on going with it so I do want to also try working on that a bit if I can

Kazuha & Kunikuzushi role swap au: this is something I posted about a Long While ago but it’s an idea I continue to be fascinated with :) I especially enjoy how these two characters could have had completely different roles and personalities depending on how their pasts happened (with wanderer being so nice and turning so bitter and kazuha growing up so spoiled (for lack of a better word) and turning out so weary and yet kind

Link click and mha crossover: this one is honestly just a very recent idea but I think it would be fun to make a drabble on how lightime photo studio would be able to continue operating even in another world and the trouble they might get into for illegal quirk usage and what using cheng xiaoshi’s powers in a world where being able to tell the future is canonically possible would entail

I have!! So many ideas!! And not enough time or motivation to actually write any of them most of the time :’)

But I’m very glad to hear that you enjoy them and look forward to my posts!! :D I really hope I can work on some of these over the last month of summer vacation that I have :)

#to this day I still get kind of freaked out when people compliment both my art and my writing #like wow!! thank you so much!!!!!! the art compliments I expect because I’ve been pretty bloated in my opinion on my own art since childhood #but the writing always comes as a surprise!#especially when people are like ‘oh I found you through your writing and found out your art is also good’ like WHAT #if anything I’m much more likely to be found for my art I feel like!!!#but thank you fr #people telling me my writing is actually good has done wonders for my confidence in classes for writing essays and such #and it really shows because when I’m less worried about how good my writing is and trying to make it sound good I get to devote a lot more #time and energy towards planning and figuring out ideas for what I want to write and my past few essays in humanities classes have done grea

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annlillyjose · 7 months

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Green Room – WIP Intro

hiii cuties!

have you ever been overcome by an irresistible urge to write a memoir at the age of twenty, or are you normal? i'm definitely not, so here's a new project (again)

green room is an experimental memoir that delves into my teenage years as a writer. i started writing seriously at the age of thirteen and self-published my first book at fourteen, which is something that haunts me to date. but here's the thing – i feel like i've learned a lot in the last six to seven years and wanted to explore it with another writing project.

i don't really know what this book is going to be yet. i'm going to start drafting during nanowrimo as a side project and hopefully finish it by the end of the year, but i'm not in a rush. i want to enjoy the process of writing this so i might take my sweet time.

now because this is an intro post, let's get to some specifics.

disclaimer: this is my original work. plagiarism of any kind will not be tolerated.

genre: creative/literary non-fiction

pov: first person retrospective

structure: a combination of chapters, vignettes, and poetry maybe

projected word count: 50k

concept: literary memoir on a writer's journey through teenage as they navigate genre, form, tense, character, story, plot, theme, atmosphere, and setting.

aesthetics/vibes: abandoned art galleries, mountaintops, beaches at midnight, falling asleep on the terrace, coffee mugs, word documents, cute stationery that never gets used, rejection e-mails, daydreaming, moon phases, still rivers, birds flying in groups, rain, academic validation, morally gray people, the colour green

THE ORIGIN STORY

i had always wanted to write something in retrospect of my teenage and document my growth, but didn't want to be so didactic in doing so. the memoir seemed like a serious piece of writing so i didn't really know if i was qualified enough to start. but if i've learned anything about writing in the last few years, it is that you can write whatever you feel like writing. so here i am with a new wip.

a little bit about the title – i struggled with this the most. but the novel i wrote during my late teens (dairy whiskey) was an entirely green book and i found myself finding thousands of green things every single day. my life had turned a shade of green. i was very inspired by the books bluets by maggie nelson and the white book by kan hang. i decided to make the colour green an important aspect of the book.

i don't know how this is going to turn out or if i'm going to do updates for this one, but who knows, i just might. until then, i hope you enjoy my other writing and shitposting. until next time, goodbye.

– ann.

general taglist (ask to be added or removed)

@shaonsim @heartfullkings @vnsmiles @dallonwrites @wannabeauthorclive @sienna-writes @violetpeso @flip-phones @silassghost @ambidextrousarcher @zoe-louvre @writing-with-l @magic-is-something-we-create @femmeniism @frozenstillicide @wizardfromthesea @rose-bookblood @coffeeandcalligraphy @rodentwrites @saltwaterbells @snehithiye @at-thezenith

#writeblr #wip intro #memoir #new wip #wip tag #aljwrites #writing update #wip update #women writers #autobiography

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aheathen-conceivably · 5 months

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Hello! Merry Christmas and good luck in the new year! I have a question, I don’t know if it’s been asked already, but I’m interested to know which of your characters is closest to you in spirit? What traits do you have in common with him? And vice versa. Which character is the most difficult for you to write, which you do not always understand: his actions, words and motivation, because you are a real writer and are probably good at the psychology of heroes (I really apologize for the distorted sentences, because I am a foreign subscriber and use a translator)

Absolutely no need to apologize, Nonny! Everything looks great and thank you so much for taking the time to send these thoughtful questions 💕

Y’all already know the rambler in me is getting all excited, so prepare y’all selves! Though I must say, it’s quite hard to pinpoint an answer, mostly because there’s at least a small bit of myself in each of the characters and who’s easiest to write is not always who is the most like me? So naturally, let’s go below the cut, and I’ll split this into sections to make it easier for us to read 😘

1. My spirit characters:

Honesty time. I think that it’s easier for me to put my “negative” qualities into characters and thus also easier to recognize them in hindsight. This is probably because it’s simply often easier to see what needs to be improved in yourself than vice versa, but also probably because I’m a dramatic broad who likes giving her characters flaws.

So although I could probably find a bit of myself in most characters, I would say those who are most like me are Rosella, Zelda, and Violette. Just down to sims traits, Rosella and my simself actually both have the self-absorbed trait (oops). I think this manifests in different ways, but at its core I’m just as likely to follow my wants and cut ties as she is. I also have a ~rather strong~ proclivity for the aesthetic and vain, enjoying beautiful things for their own sake often to the point of distraction. However, I like to think that this is tertiary to me, and my pursuit of them is not as detrimental as it was for her.

Which brings us to, of course, Zelda. Zelda shares this love of the beautiful with her sister, although for her it can extend into the ephemeral and artistic rather than simply the mundane. I would say I share that tendency toward internal existentialism with her, as well as the proclivity to separate from my immediate surroundings rather than live in the present moment. I, like her, can thus often seem “out of it” but in reality we’re just interpreting our surroundings through a distorted, if not tinted lens. However, I’m by no means as artistically talented or reserved as Zelda, which brings us to….

Our little heiress, Violette. Now I’ll try not to get too deep into spoilers here, but Little Lottie and I definitely share some core tendencies. I, like her, despise being told what to do, and will usually become more stubborn or do the opposite simply because of what someone said (whether it’s well intentioned or not). I can also be gregarious, dramatic, and loud when I want to be, and enjoy being the center of attention. However, I think the Zelda in me tempers that so that I need to retreat back into my cave after a while, while Violette thrives on it. I was also raised an only child, so a lot of Lottie’s experience with loneliness and not knowing how to relate to other children is coming from my own childhood.

2. The easiest to write:

So oddly, I don’t think there’s a clear connection between the characters who are most like me and those I find easiest to write. Rather I think that comes from the historical situation that is currently inspiring me, which character fits into that inspiration the best, and how clear of a grasp I have on that character’s personality. This often comes in the form of scenes just appearing in my head, and as I write it’s like the sentences already exist? So there’s this natural understanding between the character and me, where I don’t really have to sort through thought rubble or force their perspective quite as much?

This answer is highly dependent on what part of the story we are currently in. As in, there have been times I have found a character easy to write, and then it will suddenly switch. Zelda is absolutely one of those characters, as her perspective came very naturally to me in parts of the 1910s and then again after motherhood. Now, I find it easier to write the characters surrounding her, and I’m sure it will switch again at some point in the future.

Currently? I find Josephine easiest to write (although she is not very similar to me at all, and her deep fear of commitment is something that I don’t share in the slightest), with Antoine coming in as a close second. Violette’s perspective in the 1940s has also kind of begun presenting itself to me, although at various points I would say that Adelia, Virginia, and Florence have all also been the easiest characters to write for, and those who’s voices have inspired me to come up with new scenes and plotlines.

3. Who even is she?

Now for the characters who are least like me? That one has gotta probably gotta go to Florence, Virginia, and Antoine. As much as I may want to be like Florence, I’m gunna be honest with y’all and say that is not the case. Starting with the fact that I strongly dislike the great outdoors. Farming? Nah. Camping? Absolutely not. Living of the land? What a pleasant dream. What can I say, I am absolutely a Rosella; I enjoy being fancy and comfortable, and Florence in some ways is the antithesis of this. She also embodies selfless generosity and a sort of steady love, which are not things that I would say I really relate to (I once again point you to answer 1 😅).

Now Virginia is a strange one. I was actually very concerned with writing her, because I share none of the righteousness or quickness to action that define her. Likewise, I don’t think that I am able to remain as steady and surefire in tragedy and trauma as she does. So when I first conceived her character I thought I would have great difficulty writing her, but as I mentioned above, despite the fact that she is probably the least similar to me of all the Darlingtons, I found her easy and almost natural to write once we began her storyline.

Which brings us to my baby boy. Sigh. I say this next because Antoine has easily been one of the most natural characters for me to write. I think this is because I had such a clear vision of him from the start that has really been able to grow through the story. So he’s remained who he is through it all, and why I still find him so easy to write.

Despite this, there is very little to none of me in his character, despite the fact that I maybe sorta have a thing for the broken artist stereotype (hello, hubs, I know you’re out there 😙). So there may be some ways in which I wrote my partner into his character’s talent and approach to the world around him, but he is heavily inspired by these ideas of “old fashioned masculinity”, of self-imposed stoicism and protection and fatherhood. These are feelings that I have to imagine rather than pull from experience, but somehow the more I write him the more real they become to me as well.

4. The ~struggle~

Hands down the hardest characters for me to write have been Oliver and Isaiah. I think that Oliver really suffered from the fact that he was my first gen heir, so I was at a place in the story and my writing process where I wasn’t as sure in what I was doing or as good at honing into what I wanted to do. Then by the time this became more clear to me, I had really begun to lean into writing Florence’s character and then his children. So he kind of became less of a focus, and the less I focused on him the harder it was for me to define his voice, which then became a cycle.

I think if I could go back, I would lean more into the connection that I see between him and the romantic poets, really kind of exploring that juxtaposition between idealized nature and reality. I also think his position as a pseudo-wealthy aristocratic and failed businessman had a lot of potential, but alas, you live and you learn.

Now onto the Forgotten Child. Y’all (and I) call him that for a reason, and I think next to his sisters it’s no secret that Isaiah received much less focus (I even have a post about him realizing this 😂). Part of this is just that he’s the youngest, so I really didn’t get much time to explore his adult life or even his teenage years. It’s also because trying to juggle six perspectives all at once means that some are going to suffer more than others.

Now that being said, I am happy with his storylines. However, they often felt more like I was exploring plots I had come up with rather than really viewing things through his perspective. I think this is the biggest challenge to me when having trouble writing a character: it’s that their voice is just for whatever reason not really clear in my mind. Even in the subsequent decades, our English Darlington updates are mostly going to come from Summer, because I still have never really gotten my finger on exactly who Isaiah is. For that reason, my poor forgotten baby boy is probably the most difficult character for me to write.

—

ALSO if you made it this far please know that turning your delightful questions into a multi-paragraph rant about myself is a very self absorbed and very Rosella/Violette thing to do so in the end…I think you have all the answer you need right there 🤣

#thank you all for coming to my Ted Talk 🫡#which is basically a demonstration of why the answer is Rosella #real cute look Alexis kill off your spirit character huh #also a very merry Christmas to you too Nonny!!#I hope that it was lovely ❤️🎄#ask #answered #Darlington extras

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