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blitzturtles · 3 years

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Title: Get What You Need (Ao3)

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): GioMis or Giorno & Mista (Platonic or Pre-Relationship)

Summary: “All of them,” Giorno breathes the words in a near rush of panic. His stomach turns at merely hearing the list. His resolve crumbles in an instant, and it’s only worsened when he makes the mistake of looking down at his hands, clasped together in his lap. He picks idly at the cuticle of one thumb with the nail of the other in a desperate attempt to keep himself calm. The more worked up he gets, the worse the cramps are, and they’re already rolling through him too often to be ignored.

Notes: Trigger Warnings: Dysphoria; Gio experiences quite a bit of it, and it's not very nice.

Guess who had a period from hell.

Trigger Warnings: Gender dysphoria! Giorno struggles with it quite a bit throughout the fic.

1. Bucci's also trans, 2. Polnareff is alive (so is everyone else for that matter.), and 3. Bruno being trans is not a secret/Mista isn't actually outing him here.

“I would like to rearrange a few meetings,” Giorno says, choosing his words carefully, so he can gauge Polnareff’s reaction.

Without missing a beat, Polnareff answers, “Of course. Which were you interested in moving? There’s the two after lunch, the one with Dura at three, and Abba-”

“All of them,” Giorno breathes the words in a near rush of panic. His stomach turns at merely hearing the list. His resolve crumbles in an instant, and it’s only worsened when he makes the mistake of looking down at his hands, clasped together in his lap. He picks idly at the cuticle of one thumb with the nail of the other in a desperate attempt to keep himself calm. The more worked up he gets, the worse the cramps are, and they’re already rolling through him too often to be ignored.

Polnareff looks momentarily surprised, but he schools his expression quickly and reaches underneath his chair to where he keeps a notebook safely tucked away. He pulls his pen from the spiral binding and looks to Giorno with sheer determination.

“Any-- preferences? On when I reschedule these to?”

“Two or three days from now at the earliest,” Giorno knows it’s risky. A bad idea at best and a great way to destroy several very fragile relationships at worst, but he’s reaching a breaking point. His eyes are already burning, and he can’t ignore the hopeless feeling gripping him any more than he can ignore the way blood continues to fill the pad he’s wearing. He’s too hyper-aware of both, and there’s nothing worse than showing weakness in front of a pack of dogs, most of whom were raised by the streets in some form or fashion. With the exception, of course, of the nepotistic sort, though Giorno doesn’t generally think much of them. They’re certainly not the threat that the others can be when left unchecked.

Polnareff, to his credit, only nods and makes a note of the request. He pauses a moment, clearly chewing something over in his mind, and it’s likely only their close relationship that allows him to ask, “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” which is a non-answer, but it’s the best Polnareff is getting from him when he feels like this: weak, vulnerable. Disgusting. Wrong. If he could tear the skin off his body, he would.

Polnareff nods again. There’s a lingering look in his good eye that Giorno thinks might be concern. Possibly displeasure at being blatantly left in the dark when it’s Polnareff’s job to be as informed as possible, though the man says nothing of it and simply wishes Giorno well before departing from the office altogether. He uses Chariot to open the door for him and wheels away without any actual protest.

It’s all Giorno can do to hold his breath until the moment the door clicks shut, and he deflates immediately over the edge of his desk. He slumps forward on the wood and tries hard to bite back the quiet, senseless sobs that bubble up in his chest. It’s ridiculous. The whole thing is ridiculous. He should be able to handle this, even if it has been awhile. He can’t fall apart the moment his period decides to rear its ugly head as one of the worst reminders of what he isn’t. What he fails to be. Yet here he is, crying over his desk like a child, though his sobs are silent. Even now, years later, he hasn’t shaken that habit.

______

Mista startles out of his light doze thanks to a text. He flails about uselessly, arms smacking into the side door of the car before he remembers where he is (and who he’s with, if the short-tempered, “Watch it!”, is anything to go by). It takes him another moment to figure out where he left his phone, and it’s only because of Five that he finds it at all.

“Thanks, buddy,” he says as he pulls the screen up for the last message he received. He blinks in surprise at the body of the first text.

Meetings are canceled.

Under any other circumstance, Mista would be hooping and hollering in delight. Meetings being canceled means that Mista doesn’t have to stand around pointlessly for hours while some morons try to talk circles around Giorno of all people, but there’s a gnawing worry that grows in his gut. Giorno doesn’t cancel meetings unless he’s physically unable to be there. Usually when a mission has carried over and kept them from home for too long. The next text does little to quail his anxiety.

You should check in on him anyway.

Mista doesn’t need to be told who ‘him’ is, and he doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s already planning on it once they get back to the mansion.

______

Giorno extracts himself from his desk after a few more minutes of self-pity. There’s only so much of it he can stand at any given time. More importantly, he doesn’t want anyone to happen by before he has a chance to compose himself, which is exactly what he does. He pulls a small mirror from his desk and grimaces at the red, puffy eyes that look back at him.

He’s part way through fixing his hair when another cramp hits. Sharp and agonizing with the way it pierces through his middle and spreads outwards, toward his hips. He doubles over with his arms hugging around his middle. It’s instinct more than anything. God knows it doesn’t help alleviate the pain any.

It takes him a solid sixty seconds before he can work up the courage to unravel. He half expects the next wave to roll through him the moment he does, but there’s a blessed lack of follow up. For the time being. He doesn’t expect that to last. It never does.

His chest aches with the effort that it takes to keep his breathing even. The binder isn’t helping, but he’s not about to try to wiggle out of it in his office. His only option is to get himself up and back to his bedroom, but that sounds like a momentous task on it’s own. Somehow he has to get there without being brought to his knees by cramps or hit with another wave of despair or-- well, being perceived at all. One look at his face will give him away. Maybe they won’t know why, but they’ll know that something is wrong, and that’s bad enough.

He finally manages to get his hair to a presentable level again when someone knocks on the door to his office, and his heart drops down to his stomach. He glances back at the mirror one more time before shoving it in his desk. His eyes are definitely still puffy, though some of the redness has dissipated.

“Giorno?” Mista asks, poking the door open slightly when Giorno doesn’t immediately respond. It’s only then that Giorno realizes that his voice is caught in his throat, and he gets a second, far more concerned call of his name for his hesitance.

“I’m fine,” he says quickly. Too quickly. Mista might not read people as well as Bucciarati, but he’s still acutely aware of certain details (the ones that matter! Mista’s voice echoes in his head.)

“Uh,” Mista starts, a little lamely, but he quickly shakes off any reserves he has about being direct if his next words are anything to go by, “No offense, but you look like shit, so I’m pretty sure you’re not. Actually.”

Giorno falters slightly. He should have texted Mista after Polnareff left. Should have explained the situation in the vaguest possible terms. And definitely should have come up with an excuse. But he had done none of those things, and now he’s stuck with the repercussions of his own actions. Or inactions.

“It’s not important,” he tries. Pathetic as it is.

“You canceled all your meetings for today,” and Giorno supposes he set himself up for that. He hasn’t come up with an excuse yet, especially not one that adequately explains away his behavior.

Silence stretches between them. Giorno for lack of an answer, and Mista because he seems to expect Giorno to cave. To the Don’s great horror, he does just that.

“It really isn’t that big of a deal. I’m just--” only, before he can finish speaking, another cramp grabs hold and twists mercilessly until he’s gasping and leaning forward with both hands clenching at the edge of his desk. He closes his eyes, as if to shut out the pain, or possibly the reality of the situation as it registers in the back of his mind.

“Giorno!” Mista calls, loud and panicked. He lunges forward to close the gap between them, though he hesitates once he’s within touching distance. “Giorno?”

“I’m fine, just-- cramps,” Giorno confesses, grinding his teeth together as the next one rips through him. Equally as painful as the last and as impossible to ignore. He feels his cheeks burn the way his eyes are once again, and all he wants is to crawl under his desk and hide away from the world. It’s not often that he wishes he could be nobody again, but now is certainly one of those times.

“Cramps?” Mista asks with confusion evident in his voice, but then his eyes go wide. He scans Giorno over, as if that might give him the affirmative he needs. “Like Bucci’s?”

Giorno doesn’t actually know what that means, but he nods anyway. Close enough, and it means he doesn’t have to explain anything else.

“Okay, okay, shit--!” Mista sounds a bit more panicked now. More like how Giorno feels being flayed open like this in front of one of the people he actually cares about. Whose opinion actually means something to him. “God, he hasn’t had them in so long. Fuck, uh? Heat. Oh, and we should probably get you into something more comfortable. Have you taken anything?”

What?

Giorno’s mind skips and stutters into a complete stall. He’s not sure what Bucciarati has to do with anything, but he’s suddenly sure that the answer is more closely linked than he had originally thought.

“Gio?”

“Yes,” Giorno grinds out, because he did, though he’s nearing the end of the four hour period before he can take the next dose, and he’s tempted to swallow as much as he can fit into his fist. The damage is something he can deal with later. With his Stand, but he knows it won’t help. The efficacy of such medication is limited, but it hurts. It hurts, and he’s just outed himself to one of his closest friends with no warning. No preparation. Anxiety works its way up his throat, and he thinks, for a moment, that he might be sick.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of here,” Mista says, bringing Giorno back out of his thoughts and back into reality. He tugs gently at Giorno’s upper arm.

Giorno lets himself be pulled up to his feet with a sort of numbness spreading through him. For all the panic that’s coursing through his veins, there is one, lucid thought: Mista isn’t upset. He’s taken the news and simply rolled with it like it means nothing. Like it doesn’t change anything, and Giorno doesn’t know how to handle that, so he just lets himself be pulled along. Out from behind his desk and toward the office entrance.

From there it’s a long, impossible trek to Giorno’s bedroom. One that requires breaks for the cramps that won’t let him off so easily. For a moment, he wishes it were a bullet tearing apart his insides. That, at least, he could do something about, but cramps are something else entirely. Using GE won’t get him anywhere. In fact, he’s pretty sure it’s made it worse in the past, when he’s tried out of pure desperation.

“I’m going to go grab a heating pad,” Mista starts once they reach Giorno’s bedroom, “You should get changed into something less-- tight. Got any stretchy pants?”

“My pajamas,” Giorno answers, more because it seems expected of him than because he’s actually paying attention.

“Perfect! I’ll be back in a minute.”

Giorno’s left standing there, a bit lost for what to do with himself, but the next shock of pain comes and fresh tears burn at the corners of his eyes, reminding him of the fact that he really doesn’t want to be in the middle of the hall, visibly crying for all to see. There’s a logical part of him that knows he wouldn’t be judged for it, but there’s a much louder part that reminds him that crying has never gotten him anywhere in life other than alone and miserable.

He turns the knob on his door and pushes it open after the agony subsides enough to allow him to move again. The first thing he does upon entering his room is seek out the pill bottle from earlier. A few minutes won’t make a difference, and he’s rapidly approaching the end of his rope. He can’t handle the pain on top of everything else.

Changing is a whole other problem. One that he hadn’t thought of as a problem until he’s standing there with his sleep clothes in hand and staring down at himself, realizing he’ll have to undress in order to redress (and is it really worth the effort? Worth seeing himself and his hips and his chest and--).

He peels out of his suit despite himself. He doesn’t want Mista to come back and push the subject. Then there’s the risk that Mista might not leave, which means Giorno will have to deal with an audience on top of having to suffer through his own self-hatred.

The binder stays on. Regardless of how uncomfortable and hot and painful he already is. He can’t handle the idea of taking it off right now, so he suffers for the little bit of mental peace that it brings him. The flattened chest makes up for the curve of his hips, though he finds himself flattening his hands over his waist anyway. Unable to stop himself from picking at every flaw when he’s already hormonal and all around having one of the worst days he’s had in awhile.

The knock at his door startles him into action, and he finishes getting dressed with a quick, “Hold on!”

A moment later has him opening the door to Mista’s grinning face.

“Found it,” Mista says as he holds up the box with a product image on it. Giorno doesn’t get a chance to observe more than the fact that it’s maroon before Mista drops it back down to his side and nods toward Giorno’s room.

Giorno steps out of the way to allow his (technically uninvited) guest in. Mista’s rambling on about something. Giorno isn’t sure what, though he catches ‘Bucciarati’ and ‘Trish’ in there somewhere, and there’s something about Abbacchio being unhelpful and half a dozen other things that fall on deaf ears.

“Oh, and you got changed, good,” Mista finishes with another one of his goofy smiles. The corners of his eyes pull oddly, giving away something else that he’s trying to hide under all the babbling and warmth. Worry persists, despite knowing the truth. Giorno can’t understand why. Cramps aren’t that big of a deal; even if he’s made them out to be in his own head.

“Yeah, it’s helping a little, thanks,” Giorno says when Mista looks at him with some sort of expectation in his eyes. Giorno’s usually better at reading people than this, but he feels like he’s moving in water. Too slow and with too much drag. He can’t keep up with the world around him, and it’s all overwhelming pressure and not enough time. Time to process, time to breathe. He loops back around to the fact that he came out to someone on the Team no more than ten minutes ago, yet Mista is unflinching and unconcerned. He hasn’t brought it back up, since he learned about it, in fact. Hell, he’s acting like all of this is completely normal, despite Giorno being almost completely certain that Mista is cis.

“Earth to Giorno,” Mista calls, voice soft with that same worry now seeping into his tone.

“Sorry,” Giorno says quickly, “I was--”

“Off in lala land?”

“Something like that,” though he thinks that sounds substantially more pleasant than all the thoughts racing through his mind.

Mista watches him for a long, uncomfortable moment. It’s times like these where Giorno gets reminded of just how much Mista likes to play dumb, when he’s anything but. He might not have the book smarts that Fugo has, but Mista is brilliant in so many other ways. Ways that are working against Giorno right now.

“You know, if you want to talk about it…”

“I-” Giorno cuts off and groans. He quickly takes a seat on the edge of his bed and sticks his head down between his knees, folding himself in half in an attempt to apply enough pressure to alleviate some of the pain.

“Oh, shit, here,” Mista moves to find an outlet and digs out the heating pad from its box. He hooks it up quickly and hands it to Giorno. The fabric of its exterior is surprisingly soft in Giorno’s hands, and he’s quick to tuck it between his abdomen and his thighs.

“Thank you,” he breathes out after several seconds pass and heat finally starts to spread across the pad.

“No problem,” Mista says quietly. More subdued than he typically is. He moves to sit on the bed beside Giorno and places a hesitant hand on his back, where he rubs gentle circles until he can feel some of the tension ease out of his Don’s muscles.

It’s quiet for a long while. Giorno basks in the relief the pad and pain killers offer. It’s the first time in over an hour that he’s been able to simply breathe through the worst of the cramps each time they hit. Though his chest continues to ache, the change is nonetheless a welcomed one. The sensation of heat spreading across his abdomen is enough of a distraction to keep him out of his own head. For a short while, at least.

“Earlier, you said something about Bucciarati,” Giorno starts, nervous and unsure of how to broach the topic.

“Oh yeah, Bucci used to get cramps real bad, too,” Mista says without hesitation. Without any hint whatsoever that he finds what he’s said to be unusual.

“Is he--?”

“Oh, shit,” Mista’s hand stills on his back, and Giorno gnaws suddenly at his lip, afraid he’s somehow messed with something he shouldn’t have. “Uh, technically that’s probably not my place to say? But he’s not exactly hiding it, Gio. He’s got scars and everything.”

Scars? Oh.

Oh.

Giorno feels his face flush, this time out of a different sort of embarrassment. Sure, he had seen the scars before, but they were light. Old and well healed, probably through the help of Sticky Fingers, and it’s not as though Bucciarati isn’t covered in dozens of others. Most of them silver from age, but there all the same. It had never once occurred to Giorno that the two on his chest, which peek out just a bit underneath the classic lingerie that Bucciarati always wears, are anything purposeful.

“I didn’t realize,” Giorno admits after a moment, when that little fact is probably very obvious and unnecessarily verbalized, but he doesn’t know what else to say to fill the silence. His own head is much louder. Full of racing thoughts and flashes of memories.

“Maybe you should talk to him about it sometime?” Particularly in moments like these; Mista spares his emotions by keeping that part to himself, but Giorno’s thinking it all the same.

To imagine that he’s been doing all of this in silence since meeting Bucciarati and his Team. To think that he could be so dense as to dismiss the signs that he isn’t alone. He only wishes he had realized sooner, even if he isn’t sure what it would have changed. He’s not sure he could have broached the subject then. He’s not sure he could do it now. Mista only found out because of circumstance.

Still. There’s someone just like him, and they live under the same roof. “I should,” he agrees, because he really should, hang-ups aside.

“Hey, you wanna try laying out? ‘Cause, no offense, man, but that looks super uncomfortable.” Mista asks after a beat of silence. He’s never one to let it go on for too long, and he’s rarely deterred by any uncomfortableness that might be lingering.

Giorno nods his head after a moment and slowly sits up. He moves his hands to hold the heating pad against his abdomen and breathes a small sigh of relief when the pain doesn’t immediately crowd in on him again. He carefully stretches himself out across the bed, despite how painfully aware of Mista’s presence he is. It’s weird to be laying out, so physically vulnerable, and it makes him acutely aware of all the things he wishes he could forget. (Is the outline of his binder visible? What about the shape of his hips? Does lying down like this make it that much more obvious how slight Giorno is?)

Once he’s lying back fully, he lets go of the pad, allowing it to rest on top of him on its own. The next wave of pain is far more manageable than the last several have been, and he merely winces in response.

“Those must suck, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“I really don’t,” Mista agrees, “Though Trish and Bucci make it out to be pretty shitty, so.”

“I think I prefer being stabbed.”

Mista winces at the thought, “For what it’s worth, I’d rather you weren’t.”

Giorno lets out a startled laugh, but he gets Mista’s point. He kind of wishes his bodyguard weren’t so prone to being shot with multiple bullets on a regular basis. Unfortunately for both of them, they can’t always get what they want.

The quiet that settles over them this time is much more peaceful. Giorno closes his eyes and relaxes into the mattress. It’s the best he’s felt all day. Physically, anyway. There’s plenty for him to work through otherwise, but he doesn’t want to think about that right now. Instead, he focuses on the lessening cramps until they’ve all but died off entirely. Exhaustion takes hold of him then. It’s still far too early in the day to sleep, but a nap is beginning to sound like a good idea.

Before he can think about drifting off fully, he cracks his eyes open to peek at Mista, “Thank you.”

Mista beams at him from where he’s gone and laid out next to Giorno, “Anytime, GioGio. Anytime.”

#giomis #misgio #giorno giovanna #guido mista #jjba #vento aureo #team bucci #jean pierre polnareff #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #jjba part 5 #part 5 #golden wind #blitzwrites #blitz

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transthaumaturge · 4 years

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Squirrel Girl is Super Gay for her Roommate and I Want Everyone to Know

A gay infodump of sensible length by Rachel Tikvah

ALRIGHT, SO The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl was the very first comic that I ever read regularly, back when I was looking for more stories with strong female protagonists but didn't really know why. Back then I just thought I really liked strong female characters and not that I was being gay on main, but now I know the truth. The comic had a 5-year run, and it was the first time that Squirrel Girl, AKA Doreen Green, had had her own series. She had a brief run in the mid-2000's where she was established as someone who could beat up Thanos with her bare hands well, more like squirrel hands but was mostly a joke character that happened to be incredibly buff and had indestructible plot armor. USG decided that Doreen's next major life goal would be to enroll in college to become a computer scientist, because her writer, Ryan North, is really into computer science and they basically gave him free rein over Squirrel Girl canon for five whole years. Like, a solid third of the plots are solved with some kind of computer science smarts. It’s really cool. Anyway this is Doreen in one of the gayest solo pictures I could find of her on short notice, which is also one of the variant covers from the actual series:

And this is her college roommate, Nancy Whitehead:

I'm like, 99% certain that Ryan North intended for them to end up as a couple and Disney!Marvel told him no. So he decided to make them AS GAY FOR EACH OTHER AS POSSIBLE without explicitly saying that they were a couple, and it ended up going under the radar. What follows is evidence for that claim. I’m going to put a "read more” after this so it doesn’t clutter everyone’s dashboards, but please read on if you’re interested. There’s a lot of cute gayness after this point. I’m also going to put all of the image descriptions at the end, since they take up a lot of space and I don’t want to break up the flow of the post. Finally, a quick spoiler alert for one arc in the middle of the series and a couple major plot points from the final few issues.

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES

So for a while it was just kind of hinted at that they’re in a relationship, mostly because they were basically domestic life partners for like, two whole years in-universe before the comic run ended. But it really came to a head with an arc that was ran about 2/3 of the way through the series. Some pictures of them being, like, so cute together in general and/or talking about how much they care about each other before I get to that arc, though:

Also Doreen describes her and Nancy's cat as "co-parented" in one of the last issues:

ANYWAY, THE ARC. THE HYPERTIME ARC. So one of the villains created for the Squirrel Girl run (I think they liked making weird shit canon just because they could) was a dude who went by the name "EpicCrimez". He’s a crime streamer. He livestreams his crimes to an online audience. I don't know. *Throws up hands*

He had some kind of laser gun that he built out of scavenged alien tech but didn't really know what it did, so he shot it at Doreen and Nancy for kicks. It shot them into hypertime, so suddenly the rest of the world was moving at a fraction of the pace that they were. They were moving so quickly that they were slated to live out their entire lives over the span of a single weekend if they didn't figure out how to reverse the effects. And...they did. Live out their entire lives together. For the two of them, they were the only two people in the world. There were other people, but they looked like statues unless you spent a very long time observing them. Doreen and Nancy grew old together in a world where they only had each other. This is an incredibly cute domestic scene from a little while after they found themselves in hypertime:

Gosh, I wish I could find more official art from that arc of them just living together, it was so good. But the point is, they were both old by the time that Nancy figured out how to get them out of hypertime. And it wasn't ideal. Their bio signatures were stored in the gun that EpicCrimez shot, and they could essentially "reboot" their bodies from when they were first shot and send themselves back into the regular timestream. But they wouldn't remember anything about the life that they had shared together. Nancy almost didn't want to do it. She raised the possibility of them just living out the rest of their lives together, because she didn't want to forget their life together. This is the conversation they had:

"I don't regret any of it. I don't want to lose it, and I don't want to lose us." "You're not getting rid of me that easily." Every time I look at that last picture, which took up an entire page of the comic, I start to cry. We’re seeing the final moments of two people who love each other more than anything, who were each other's entire lives, savoring their last moments together and wondering what the future holds. Sacrificing the life that they built together so that their younger selves could live a better, fuller one. Dying in each other’s arms, scared but comforted by the fact that they had each other. And then the arc ends, and they can't remember anything, so the status quo is restored. They have some paintings they made of each other while they were living together in hypertime, but they move on pretty quickly without ever knowing the significance of those lived decades. Still, it's clear in the arcs that follow and the adventures they embarked on afterward that they would die for each other. All of that continues until the end of the last arc. Their shared apartment's been blown up at this point by a supervillain who wanted to ruin Doreen’s life before eventually killing her. And in the aftermath of the fight, they're sifting through the wreckage for anything that survived (don't worry, the cat got out in time) when they find the picture that they painted of themselves during the hypertime arc:

They have a really cute conversation about how this chapter of their life is over, but they're going to be okay and they're going to build a new life together. And then Nancy basically tells Doreen that she can't live without her:

And then Doreen says something super queer-coded about how she likes the idea of the world knowing her secret identity now:

On the very last page of the comic, after all of the action is over and the series is about to end, they're talking to each other in what's supposed to be a twitter thread and Doreen asks Nancy a very thinly veiled question about whether she still wants to spend time with her now that her identity's out. She pretends it's about a class project, but it's really not about the class project. Here's how that conversation goes:

With no knowledge of what happened during the weekend when they shared their entire lives together, without ever having heard Doreen say it to her before, Nancy’s heart still knows which words to choose. "...you're not getting rid of me that easily. <3" I believe that the author of the series, Ryan North, did as much as he possibly could to portray them as a couple without saying it outright. And as the last piece of evidence to support that claim, I want to share a response he wrote in one of the series' last-ever letter columns:

"as for more Doreen and Nancy, I hope so too. A Squirrel Girl book without Nancy would feel like--like--like some sort of hypothetical "Super" "Man" book without an equally hypothetical "Lois" "Lane"!" It's easy to write off this analysis as wishful thinking, or as a misreading of the subtext. But when the author of the series says that these two characters are meant to always be together and compares them to one of the most famous couples in any comic series ever, it's clear that there's more to it than that.

Some Additional Thoughts: 1) Doreen and Nancy are both probably bisexual or pansexual, since they both expressed romantic interest in men throughout the series but they’re both clearly interested in each other too. There might be an element of demiromanticism there as well if part of the reason that they’re into each other romantically is because of how emotionally close they’ve become over the years. I want to make sure that that facet of their romantic orientations doesn’t get erased, because bi and pan folks get erased enough as it is. Neither Doreen nor Nancy are lesbians, just super-cool WLWs.

2) HERE’S WHAT THE ISSUE 50 VARIANT COVER LOOKED LIKE

That’s NOT a fun, totally straight way to pose with your platonic gal pal. They’re so incredibly cute together! I have no words! In Closing If you got this far, thank you so much for letting me talk to you about a comic that’s very important to me, and a couple in that comic that I care about very much. I spent way too long making this (six hours and counting), mostly in writing the image descriptions, and I’m very proud of my work but very tired now. Hyperfixation is a hell of a drug. If this resonated with you, please consider reblogging it so that more folks can see it. If not, even a like is nice. I’d also love to engage with people who have their own thoughts, so feel free to leave some comments in the notes if you’ve got an idea/a reaction/any additional cute Doreen/Nancy scenes that you’d like to share with me. At any rate, this post has gone on long enough and I don’t want to ask y’all to read any more than you have to. So have a great day, good morning / afternoon / night, and stay safe. Thanks again for reading! ~Rachel Tikvah, AKA @transthaumaturge Image Descriptions: Image 1: [ID: Squirrel Girl, a young woman with light skin, is posing in front of a brick wall that she seems to have crashed through, leaving a perfect outline of her body. She’s facing away but looking backwards over her shoulder at us and smiling. She’s flexing upward with her right arm and has her left fist resting on her left hip. Her sidekick, a squirrel named Tippy-Toe, is standing in the cutout she left in the wall and is making the same exact pose while wearing a light pink bow around her neck. Squirrel Girl is wearing brown lace-up boots, fur-lined hot pants over grey tights, and a brown fur-lined jacket with sleeves that come up to her forearms and a symbol of an acorn embroidered into the back. She’s also wearing a hairband with fake squirrel ears on it over short reddish-brown hair. She has a large squirrel tail coming out of her hot pants that sweeps down in a curve behind her lower legs. The illustration is drawn so that everything is bathed in the light of a sunset, and Doreen is casting shadows on the wall in front of her.] Image 2: [ID: Two frames depicting a scene between Doreen and Nancy in their college dorm room, with many cardboard boxes still not unpacked and sitting on a bare bed mattress. Nancy Whitehead is a young woman with dark brown skin and short, curly black hair. She's wearing black tights, a white dress-top, and a yellow cardigan over that. Her arms are crossed as she holds her white cat, Mew, against her chest. Doreen is wearing grey tights and a black long-sleeve shirt with a wide collar and white stripes across the chest. She's holding Tippy-Toe up to Nancy with both hands so she can see her better. The following dialogue ensues: Nancy: "A squirrel? But weren't you the one who was all about pets not being allowed in--" Doreen: "Yeah, I know. But this really interesting person I met today told me that obeying an unjust law is itself unjust." Nancy: "...You know, I was worried I'd get a weird roommate, but you're all right, Doreen Green."] Image 3: [ID: Doreen and Nancy are both sitting on a lavender-pink couch in nightclothes. Doreen has short, orange hair. She is wearing a loose-fitting grey long-sleeve shirt and steel-blue cutoff shorts; Nancy has cropped black hair. She is wearing a dark purple top with sleeves that come down to her upper arms, and loose-fitting navy-blue shorts that come down to her lower thighs. Doreen is side-hugging Nancy as she says, with an ecstatically happy smile, “Nancy, you’re the greatest. You know that, right?” Nancy gives Doreen a full smile as she responds, “I’d always suspected it, but it is nice to have it confirmed.”] Image 4: [ID: Nancy is shown from the shoulders up. She has short, curly black hair. She’s wearing large, disc-shaped gold dangle earrings, and a red jacket with prominent shoulders and a yellow collar. She’s fixing the observer with an angry, determined stare as she says, “She knows this man wouldn’t dream about betraying her, or he’d have to answer to me.”] Image 5: [ID: Doreen and Nancy are eating breakfast at the brown, circular kitchen table in their apartment. Doreen’s wearing a skin-tight athletic crop top that’s striped in black, red, white, and blue. Her arm muscles are well-defined and clearly visible as she puts a spoon in her mouth, closing her eyes as she does so. She has a bowl of cereal in front of her, and half a banana in front of that. Nancy is sitting to her left in a pink camisole top that’s also exposing her muscles, scrolling through something on her smartphone. Her hair is in a yellow fabric wrap that’s knotted on one side of her head. A cup of coffee sits in front of her. The clear blue sky is visible through the window centered on the wall behind them.] Image 6: [ID: Nancy and Doreen are facing away from the vantage point, walking towards an Empire State University campus building and holding hands with their fingers intertwined. Nancy is wearing a long knee-length grey coat and black knee-high boots, with a baby-blue side bag hanging from her left shoulder. Doreen is wearing a magenta sweatshirt with the periwinkle-lined hood down, light brown form-fitting denim pants, and black ankle-high boots, with a dark brown side bag hanging from her right shoulder. Trees and bushes hem the walkway in on either side. The building in front of them is dark red, with glass doors and a row of floor-to-ceiling windows on the second floor. Doreen is saying “...we’re just going to have to take the long way around.”] Image 7: [ID: Doreen is facing towards the vantage point and is visible from the legs up, standing in front of a pile of rubble in the background. She’s wearing high-waisted light blue shorts over black tights, and a red windbreaker with sleeves ending at her upper arms that’s opened to reveal a white t-shirt underneath. Tippy-Toe is sitting on her shoulder. There are two people facing Doreen, each slightly in frame and silhouetted in black against the light of the setting sun. Doreen is fixing them with an angry, determined expression, resting her right fist at her hip while she gesticulates with her left hand and says, “So! I don’t know about you all, but Melissa kidnapping my friend and blowing up my life and my house and almost blowing up my co-parented cat makes me feel like giving her a piece of my mind. Friends...”] Image 8: [ID: A full comic page. EpicCrimez is looking like a dork in a green and black skin-tight jumpsuit, bright red ski goggles, and a green wig cap with his brown hair sticking out the back in a mullet. He’s standing inside a jewelry store and holding up a fist of expensive gems and pearls-on-strings as holds up his smartphone and speaks into it. He’s facing off against Squirrel Girl, with her allies Koi Boi and Chipmunk Hunk on her right, and Nancy and Brain Drain on the left. The following scene ensues: EpicCrimez: “And for those of you just tuning in, welcome to another successful heist by your boy EpicCrimez, streaming live! Now with 10% more live crime action than any other streamer! Don’t forget to like and subscribe!! I know some of you in EpicCrimez Nation have been forgetting to do that lately. Not acceptable.” Squirrel Girl: “You picked the wrong small business to rob, crime-initiator! Because this mall is protected by super heroes.” Brain Drain: “HELLO” SG: “And also an unrelated civilian friend I brought along too!” Nancy: (Not looking up from her phone) “ ‘Sup.” EC: “Check it out--Squirrel Girl and her miscellaneous friends are here! It’s action you won’t find on any other channel!” SG: “Are you...streaming your robberies?” (Nancy pockets her phone) EC: “Yeah I am! For money reasons! And with you “heroes” in it, I’ll make even more!” SG: (Whispering to Nancy:) “Question: a fight scene just gets him more traffic, which lets him profit from this crime even more--so does this mean we don’t fight him?” N: (Whispering back:) “I feel like letting him go causes more harm, but I look forward to us teasing apart the moral implications of this later.” SG: “Nice.” SG: (No longer whispering:) “I’ll like and subscribe, EpicCrimez! I’ll like fighting crime, and subscribe... to a worldview wherein the strong protect the weak!” EC: “Oh my gosh, are you like wholesome Spider-Man or something??” At the bottom of the page, small text says: “Wholesome Spider-Man, Wholesome Spider-Man/Does whatever a wholesome spider can/Is he tough?/Listen bud/He’s here to hear you talk about your day and tell you it’ll all be fine while taking you out for your favorite meal for dinner because he knows you deserve it.”] Image 9: [ID: Another full comic page. Doreen and Nancy are in their apartment together, and their friends Tomas and Brian (AKA Chipmunk Hunk and Brain Drain respectively) are frozen as they look down at the machine that Nancy is on her knees in front of, working on. Nancy, barefoot, is wearing cerulean-blue athletic pants, a black long-sleeve spandex shirt without shoulders, and narrow-framed glasses. Her hair is partially covered by a yellow cloth head wrap tied on the left side, with black dreadlocks spilling out the side and back. The machine in front of her is made of dull grey metal, about a meter tall and roughly circular. Wires dangle out of a hatch that Nancy is fiddling with. Doreen is wearing a flowing, dark-purple pantsuit with wide, ankle-length legs and a halter top with the sleeves tied off at her shoulders. Her shoes are light-brown ankle boots with a horizontal gap on the bridge of each foot. Her wavy orange hair is parted in the middle and down past her shoulders. She looks incredibly cute. The following scene ensues: Doreen: “What do you think?” Nancy: “I think--come on you stupid screw--I think we’re still years away from this thing working, if it ever does. Who knew time machine construction is really hard, except of course for everyone who has attempted it?” (She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand) D: “Hah! No, I mean my new outfit.” N: (Looking up and checking her gf out:) “Doreen! You look amazing!!” D: “Liberated it from a very expensive department store uptown!” N: (Now standing) “Tony paid for it?” D: Tony will eventually discover he was kind enough to leave some expensive jewelry in trade, yes. I pinned a note to him so he knows.” N: “There really are advantages to being friends with billionaire playboy genius philanthropists.” D: “Right?!” N: (Taking Doreen’s hands in hers:) “It’s a shame we can’t take a picture of you all dolled up.” D: “Not without standing still for a few months, yeah. But I was thinking about that. I picked up something else at another store downtown. Thought maybe it could help us with that.” (Holding up a shopping bag with one hand while still holding onto Nancy’s hand with the other:) “Nancy Whitehead, I thought you and I might take up painting sometime.” At the bottom of the page, small text says: “Tony Stark moves from meeting to meeting, his body accumulating dozens of notes every second. He sighs. Stuff like this didn’t happen before he knew Doreen. But then he smiles, because after all...stuff like this didn’t happen before he knew Doreen.”] Images 10-16: [ID: Several pages worth of comic frames, posted together to depict one scene. Doreen and Nancy are now old women, likely in their seventies or eighties. Doreen has short, grey hair. She’s wearing a tan button-up waistcoat and an orange ascot, brown flats with an olive-green skirt, knee-length and softly pleated. Her tail is sticking out the back of her skirt over the top, bushy and brown but with stiffer, less-dense hair. Nancy has her grey-black hair done up in a ponytail, a mass of tight curls behind her head. She’s wearing thin oval glasses, black dress pants, black flats, and a lavender cardigan with a flower motif along the edges, open to show the yellow-orange top underneath. They’re standing in front of a completed time machine. On either side are tall pieces of machinery, and in the middle is a round, flat metal dais hooked up to everything else with snaking cables. The following scene ensues: Nancy: “So...this is it, babe. The new machine.” Doreen: “Your secret project! Nancy, it looks like you started from scratch!” N: That’s because I did. I finally realized our old machine was never going to work. Maybe if we had a few more decades, but...there’s no time. And given that our backs are to the wall, I took a risk. I disassembled the gun right down to the metal, and examined all the parts. And I did find something: a data chip. Doreen, the gun stored our bio signatures when it us.” D: “What are you saying?” N: “I’m saying my new machine won’t send us back in time, and we’ll still have lost a weekend of real time. But it will restore our bodies to normal time.” D: (Hugging Nancy tight:) “Nancy! You saved us!!” N: (Resting her hands on Doreen’s shoulders:) “Not--quite. There’s a catch, Doreen. Our bodies will make it...but we won’t. Look, Doreen...I’m an old woman. I’ve spent most of my life in hypertime. This wasn’t how I saw my life going, but...I don’t regret any of it. I don’t want to lose it, and I don’t want to lose us.” D: “I don’t understand.” N: “It’s like restoring from backup. Our bodies will be restored to how they were the moment we were first hit. But--that necessarily includes our brains, too. Everything we’ve done since we entered hypertime--our entire lives spent together...we’ll forget.” (She looks at Doreen in distress) D: “I don’t either, Nancy. You’ve been the most important person in my life. But if we do go back--we can do it again. All of it. It might not happen again quite the same way, but--well, like you say...we’ll have all the time in the world.” N: (Their faces inches apart, they both tilt their heads down and smile sadly:) “Twist my arm, why don’t you.” (They both step onto the dais holding hands, and blue energy starts to ripple around them:) “You filled up Spidey’s web-shooters before we go?” D: “Yep. Again.” N: “You and me, saving the world.” D: “Well,” (holding Nancy’s hand in both of her own) "No reason we can’t do it twice.” N: “You know, there’s a chance things could turn out differently, now that we’ll have video games to distract us. In 40 years we might decide we don’t like hanging out after all.” D: (Hugging Nancy even tighter than before as the energy from the time machine starts to envelop them, resting her face in the nape of Nancy’s neck:) “Nah. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”] Image 17: [ID: Doreen and Nancy are sifting through the charred rubble of their apartment as night starts to fall around them. Doreen is wearing faded blue jeans and a navy blue t-shirt with a Captain America star in the middle. Over top of the shirt, she’s wearing a dark reddish-brown leather vest with four metal studs at the four points of the folded-out collar. Nancy is wearing black tights and a light green long-sleeve shirt with olive-green sleeves. The front of the shirt has a picture of Cat-Thor, Cat God of Cat Thunder’s head on it. The following scene ensues: Doreen: “So I know we’re only a few hours into it, Nancy, but I think my identity being public isn’t gonna be as bad as I thought.” Nancy: “Oh?” D: “Yeah, Tony’s given me lots of tips, and it does honestly help to know that my parents are protected by a robot tree with laser eyes and my friends live in a city with the most super heroes per square mile.” N: “Most super villains too, but--Hold on. I think I found it.” (Nancy lifts a picture frame out of the wreckage, charred around the edges but otherwise no worse for wear. It has a painting inside of it of Doreen and Nancy, arm-in-arm, from hypertime. Doreen is wearing the lavender pantsuit from before, and Nancy is wearing a tight-fitting lilac dress.) “...And it looks like you and I made it through just fine.”] Images 18-19: [ID: Two later comic panels from the same scene. They’re wearing the same outfits, but Nancy’s now cradling her white cat, Mew, in the crook of her left arm while she holds onto the picture frame with her right hand. The following scene ensues: Doreen: “Come on, let’s talk about it! If we’re starting a new chapter in our lives, and we can decide what’s in it, what do you want it to contain?” Nancy: “Doreen...” D: “What are the three things you can’t live without, Nancy Whitehead?” N: (Holding up the picture so that Doreen can see it:) “Fine. If you must know, all this girl needs to be happy are cats and squirrels and knitting and computers and friends and secret tattoos and super heroes and lots and lots of love. Also food and shelter. And water. And internet.” D: “That’s more than three things.”] Image 20: [ID: Same scene as before, a single frame with a close-up on Doreen from her chest upwards. Doreen cups her chin with one of her hands and says, “Honestly--I thought about it. I really did. But I realized that where I am now, I’m safe and I’m loved and I kinda like the idea of not having to lie to people anymore, you know? Even if it is just a lie of omission. I want to share my whole self with the world. I don’t want to have to hide who I am anymore.”] Image 21: [ID: Something resembling a twitter thread, with dialogue between Nancy and Doreen stacked chronologically as horizontal boxes. Their respective names and handles are at the top of each of their comments. Nancy is Nancy W. and @sewwiththeflo, Doreen is Squirrel Girl and @unbeatablesg. The following conversation ensues: Nancy: “You think I’d leave you high and dry??” Doreen: “I think I don’t want our lateness harming your grades and therefore harming your post-secondary education or career choices and therefore harming your ENTIRE LIFE?!” “So yeah I think you should switch to someone else, real talk. I honestly don’t mind, I promise.” Nancy: “Please. If there’s one thing I know about you, about me, and about how we spend our future together, it’s this. Doreen Green...” “...you’re not getting rid of me that easily. <3″] Image 22: [ID: A paragraph of text, black text on a yellow background. “As for more Doreen and Nancy, I hope so too. A Squirrel Girl book without Nancy would feel like--like--like some sort of hypothetical “Super” “Man” book without an equally hypothetical “Lois” “Lane”!”] Image 23: [ID: A group picture of Squirrel Girl and friends sitting down on a grassy hill and watching the sunset together. Kraven the Hunter is in the foreground for some reason, looking almost directly at the camera. In the background we see Koi Boi, Mary Mahajan, Chipmunk Hunk, Brain Drain, and Mew the Cat. In the middle of the shot, Doreen and Nancy sit together. Doreen is in her superhero outfit with Tippy-Toe on her right shoulder, and Nancy is in a yellow cardigan and jeans on Doreen’s left. They’re holding hands, fingers intertwined, as Nancy leans against Doreen with her whole body. Their heads are tilted inward towards each other, the side of Doreen’s head touching the side of Nancy’s, as they look off into the distance together.]

#the unbeatable squirrel girl #squirrel girl x nancy #squancy #squirrel girl #nancy whitehead #queer comics #WLW comics #long post #described #squirrel girl spoilers #thaumaturgethoughts

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

Note

Feral jaskier and himbo geralt are always lovely!!! “So many questions and not enough brain cells” was absolutely MAGNIFICENT

Nonnie, I am so happy you liked that line. It gave me a chuckle to write it too. Feral Jaskier and himbo Geralt are such a delight, I now feel the need to write a little more for you. Movie stars, stunt doubles and idiots ahoy!

Incidentally, this also seems to fit my @sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo square ‘sharing a brain cell’.

Prompt: Sharing a brain cell Relationships (romantic/platonic/etc): Geralt/Jaskier, Lambert/Eskel/Cahir/Aiden Rating: T Content Warnings: None Summary: Geralt is the star of a TV series with Jaskier as his on screen arch nemesis. Thankfully that rivalry doesn’t carry into real life.

The set was like a second home by that point. Geralt spent a good nine months of the year there, the crew feeling like family. It was their fifth season of filming, Geralt couldn’t quite get tired of the monster of the week format though. He loved it, loved how cheesy it was and the fact that it was a production that didn’t bait or bury their characters. The natural chemistry he’d had with Jaskier made it so much easier too. They had kissed on screen enough times that he was intimately familiar with the shape of Jaskier’s lips and the taste of the lip balm he wore. That had started three seasons ago and Geralt had been quietly wishing they could kiss away from the cameras too. So he had been planning, even seeking out the advice of those he trusted - namely Eskel and Lambert.

That had been a surprise friendship that Geralt had discovered. Eskel was brought in as he stunt double for more tricky shots. Usually, Geralt liked to do his own stunts but falling off a horse at a gallop was a little beyond him. As was surviving Jaskier’s rather flamboyant fighting style. Just for a laugh Geralt had sat in on a few of Jaskier’s training session and he was so very torn between laughing his arse off and feeling sorry for Cahir who was doing his best to help them train for their fight scenes. For all his patience and expertise, Jaskier seemed determined to add his own flair. The number of times Jaskier accidentally smacked Geralt, Eskel and Cahir during training and on takes was truly staggering. It could have been a blooper reel all on its own.

Thankfully it was a short day, something about a number of the crew requesting the evening off. As it was towards the end of filming, they were within the time budget, it had been declared that they could all have the evening off.

“Just make him a home cooked meal,” Eskel advised. “Guys love that, trust me.”

“It work for you?” Geralt was a little sullen and sceptic. He didn’t think a home cooked meal was what Jaskier would want. On screen they were enemies with a terrible habit of falling into bed. The reality probably wasn’t so far off either. Though, at least, they had become friends after a rocky start.

“Would I be celebrating my fifth anniversary this evening if it didn’t?” There was no small amount of entertainment in Eskel’s face. “It’s not like my looks are what draw anyone in.”

That had been an unfortunate accident from before Geralt’s time. Some pyrotechnic stunt had gone horribly wrong and left Eskel with the scars. If it hadn’t been for those and the different coloured hair, Geralt was sure they could have been mistaken for brothers, if not twins. Still, now Eskel only worked on sets where Lambert was the one in charge of anything fire related. Which was just as well because Geralt liked Lambert, enjoyed trading barbs with him whenever their paths crossed. As Geralt’s fame climbed, he got to ask for more and more things in contracts and, as he was fond of Eskel, he asked for him as a stunt double whenever he could and then asked for Lambert if the set called for it. It was nice to have so much power and be able to work with those he liked. Interestingly, Cahir was fast becoming another person who Geralt got on with quite well. That wasn’t to say Geralt wasn’t scared shitless of him at the start. Nobody should know so much about fighting with so many weapons without having a very colourful past - one that Cahir refused to talk about. Still, the guy was good at his job and Geralt could talk to him, so his advice was sought out too.

“Just tell him. Bring him something you know he will like. Show an interest in him and his life outside of set.”

For the first time ever, Geralt felt that Cahir was in a rush. He wasn’t quite as patient and measured as usual.

“Excited for the evening off?” he asked, trying to be friendly. And maybe he was practicing Cahir’s advice on him so he could be sure it worked when he talked to Jaskier.

A soft, shy smile crossed Cahir’s face, making him look younger and much less severe. “That obvious? It’s my anniversary today. I want to make it special.”

“Maybe bring them a gift that they’ll like?” Geralt offered with an amused smile. “I have it on good authority that it works.”

Laughing, Cahir clapped Geralt on the shoulder. ��Best of luck. Now go get your man.”

Finding Jaskier wasn’t an issue, Geralt just had to follow the sound of laughter and singing. Unsurprisingly, Jaskier was sat with a gigantic sparkler while Lambert was packing away. Those two were a dangerous combination at the best of times and Geralt knew Jaskier had, on more than one occasion, dropped by the writers’ room to posit new ideas that centred around more pyrotechnics. The ideas had obviously come from Lambert but they were mostly good so got used surprisingly frequently.

“Aha! My companion for the evening has arrived!” Jaskier hopped off the box he had been swinging his legs off and approached Geralt. “What say you? Dinner. You and me. We enjoy this rare evening off with some good company and good food.”

“Sounds good,” Geralt agreed readily, it saved him having to ask Jaskier.

Turning back, Jaskier waved at Lambert. “Enjoy your anniversary this evening! Make sure you can walk properly tomorrow though!”

Another anniversary. While Geralt had been feeling quite confident about asking Jaskier out, the news that it was yet another person’s anniversary somewhat ruined the idea. Geralt knew Jaskier liked to be unique, adored being different to everyone else. To ask him out now and share an anniversary with three people they knew, it felt a little less special. Mood taking a bit of a dive, Geralt slouched next to Jaskier as they walked towards the cars.

“Why the glum face?” Typically, nothing went over Jaskier’s head. “Would you prefer a night of solitude?”

Shaking his head, Geralt resigned himself to the knowledge that Jaskier would wheedle until he got the truth out of him. So he saved them both a lot of time and agony. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing’s ever stupid, just needs to be valued correctly.”

“I wanted to ask you something. But make it special. It’s not special though, not today. Maybe I’ll try tomorrow.”

That made not a lick of sense to Jaskier and he frowned, bumping his shoulder against Geralt’s. “Just ask.”

“But it won’t be special. Three other couples we know have an anniversary today.”

A soft laugh from Jaskier pulled him from his grumblings. “So many people have their anniversaries every day. It’s not like one single day can be declared as only one couple’s.”

For someone so smart, Jaskier sure wasn’t putting the pieces together to solve just what Geralt was trying to say.

“But would you really want an anniversary when Lambert, Eskel and Cahir each have theirs too?” It was actually a little odd, now that Geralt thought of it. Three good friends all sharing an anniversary.

There was a moment of silence before Jaskier was rounding on Geralt, hands on his shoulders to stop him mid-walk.

“Dear heart, please tell me I’m hearing this wrong. Firstly, if I was so lucky as to have an anniversary, I wouldn’t care who I shared it with. I would love to simply have one, especially if you’re offering to have one with me. Secondly, please tell me you know why those three all have their anniversary date today.”

Mind whirring, Geralt tried to process everything Jaskier had just said. He picked the easier bit to reply to first. “They were on a night out together and met their partners at the same time? Bit like how people date within the same friendship groups or even date siblings?”

Face falling, Jaskier cursed under his breath. “And I thought I wasn’t being obvious enough. Oh dear. Geralt, those three, it’s their anniversary together. As in they’re all dating each other. And Aiden is at home, waiting for them. He got the day off today too.”

Geralt’s jaw fell slack. He couldn’t quite believe it. “They-they’re together?!”

“And they’ve not been subtle at all about it!” Jaskier was laughing. “I love you but you are so dumb, I swear.”

That forced Geralt back into the moment and he smiled. “I love you too.”

He didn’t expect an enthusiastic kiss out in the open but he really didn’t mind it at all. With a huff of a laugh Geralt returned it, arms wrapping around Jaskier’s waist.

“Come on then,” Jaskier finally said as he broke away. I believe we have our zero-th anniversary to have and make a solid start on new traditions. I think we should order takeaway as a treat for our anniversaries from now on.”

Laughing, Geralt linked their hands. He liked the idea of anniversary traditions. Jaskier most definitely had the best ideas.

#geraskier #eskel/lambert/cahir/aiden #geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #lambert #Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach #get together #movie stars au #tldr: geralt tries to ask jaskier out

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years

Text

New Idol

Peter Parker x Stark!sib!reader

warnings: *insert frowny face here*

a/n: this is a stark!sibling imagine!! PLATONIC. if i keep writing postmortem fics are you guys gonna be okay

prompt: after the death of tony stark, few people felt what peter was feeling and fewer could help him out down the line

The death of Tony Stark was felt around the world, but others couldn’t have imagined the way his family had been affected by this tragedy. He was your only brother and he did a damn good job at it, you owed him.

“Hey, Pepper.” You walked into the cabin with grocery bags in each hand and kicked the door shut behind you. Pepper turned around and let out a grateful sigh.

“Thank you so much for going shopping for us, it’s just been so stressful ever since...” Your sister-in-law began to explain, but trailed off before saying anything else just in case Morgan was nearby.

“It’s no problem at all, Pep. I understand.” You set the bags down in the kitchen and heard little footsteps from above that moved across the upper floor and down the stairs.

“Aunt/Uncle Y/N!” Morgan rushed down the steps, nearly slipping before jumping off the last two and barreling towards you with a sweet little giggle that seemed to be contagious.

“Morgan, what did I tell you about jumping down the steps?” Pepper gently inquired while your niece gave her an innocent frown.

“It’s dangerous...” She mumbled as you leaned down to hoist her up on your hip.

“What’s up, Squirt?” You poked her on the nose and watched her face scrunch up. “Anything exciting going on today?” You asked.

“I had a tea party in the backyard.” She told you. “But it started raining.”

“Oh, no! Is everyone safe?” You went on and watched as Morgan quickly nodded, but you looked over her shoulder to see Pepper appear to be waiting for you. You slowly set your niece down on the floor and gave her a kiss on the head. “Why don’t you go upstairs so Mommy and I can talk for a minute? I’ll meet you there.” Morgan complied and raced up the stairs while you went to go sit with Pepper on the couch.

“Can I...ask another favor?” Pepper hesitantly said, piquing your interest. You cocked your eyebrow and waited for her to go on, but sometimes she was distracted by how similar you and Tony acted. “Right, well, he told you about Peter, right?”

“The Spider-Boy, yeah.” You followed along with a nod and let her go on.

“Yes, him.” She took a sip of her coffee and quietly smacked her lips. “I was wondering if you could maybe help him out. He needs a mentor and he...he took my husband’s death pretty hard. Tony told me he had just lost his uncle a few months before they had met.” Pepper teared up at all of her racing thoughts and covered her face as she began to cry. You leaned in to comfort her, rubbing her back and agreeing to the favor she had asked.

“I can do it, Pepper. You don’t have to worry about it. Just focus on you and Morgan, for now. I’ll be here whenever you need me, okay?” You assured her and let her cry on your shoulder. “I miss him, too.”

—————

You showed up to an apartment building in Queens, searching for the correct door to knock on. Here it is.

It wasn’t like you Starks to get uncomfortable before social interaction, it was supposed to be your strong suit, but the invincibility that you used to feel had faded away after you lost your brother. You finally raised your fist to give the door a few taps and waited for it to open. You heard the chain and deadbolt unlock and were greeted by Peter’s aunt. She recognized you immediately, but still fell speechless.

“Hi, Ms. Parker. Is Peter home?” You politely smiled and watch her open the door all the way, trying not to trip over her words.

“He—yes, Peter, he’s here.” She shut the door behind you and paused. “Peter!” She shouted. “You have a visitor!” Shortly after that, Peter ran out of his bedroom and looked puzzled at the sight of you.

“Hi.” His voice got really quiet.

“Hi.” You replied. “Pepper asked me to come see you. I was wondering if we could have a little chat?” You watched Peter exchange a look with his aunt, who gave him an “okay” nod.

“Yeah, that’s cool.” The young hero led you over to the new couch they’d gotten after everything they had was lost in the Blip. It was pretty comfy, you were wondering where you could get one like that. “What did Miss Potts—I mean, Mrs. Stark...want you to come here for?” Peter curiously asked, leaving you to contemplate your answer. You didn’t want this to seem like some sort of charity, pity to Peter. You genuinely wanted to be there for him. You had some qualifications after your short time with the Avengers and your many years of being Tony’s sibling. You could do this. You could do this.

“I...wanted to know if you’d be open to the idea of...” You stopped to look at Peter’s concerned expression, it really did remind you of Tony. God, he touched so many lives, how could this get any harder? “Would you consider letting me around for your ‘spidering?’” You tried to put it the best way you could, trying not to cringe at yourself. Peter didn’t react right away, which kind of freaked you out a bit.

“Considered.” Peter simply stated. “Mx. Stark, I look forward to working with you.” The teen held out his hand and you gave it a shake, but Peter didn’t stop there. He actually leaned forward and wrapped his arms around you to sneak a quick hug. “Sorry, I just like hugs. I didn’t get too many in when...Tony was here.”

“It’s not a problem, kid.” You ruffled his hair a bit. “Are you hungry? Ms. Parker?” You asked each of them.

“I could eat.” Peter nodded and looked over to his aunt.

“Honestly, I really didn’t want to cook tonight.” May answered with a chuckle that you joined in on, you clapped and stood up from your seat.

“Epic, let’s go grab some dinner. Discuss the future. I hate living in the past, don’t you?”

—————

Months went by and you and Peter really formed a healthy relationship. You, the solid mentor who seemed to have all the answers—Peter, the impressionable student who was starting to get the hang of it all. But Peter also started to see you as a parental figure, and you cared for him like he was one of your own. Hell, you and May even became good friends. You got to hear all about Happy from her and her from Happy. You were kind of rooting for them, to be honest.

Tony wasn’t brought up as much anymore, but you did think of him a lot. You wondered what he would say to you right now.

“Aw, y/n/n, you’ve gone soft! Look at that, I was worried you were gonna turn out like dad...”

The ringtone on your phone snapped you out of your thoughts. It was the middle of the night, who dared to call you this late? You grabbed your cell and looked at the caller ID.

Spider-Kid

“Hey, what’s up?” You answered the phone and waited for Peter on the other end.

“I can’t stop thinking about him.” Peter sobbed into the phone, causing your heart to drop. If there’s one thing you hated, it was a crying kid. “I miss him, y/n. I hate pretending like I don’t, like I’m over it!” He went on.

“I do, too, Peter. I really wish it were different.” You tried to keep a level head while talking to him, but everything he said was exactly how you felt. Just keep it together, y/n. “I try to remember all the good memories I have, try not to dwell on what could have been. Does that make sense?” You asked as you heard Peter sniffle into his microphone.

“You have more memories than I do. I wish I had more time with him.” You heard Peter’s voice crack a bit, he was trying so hard to keep it together, it wasn’t working. “Can you tell me something about him? Something I don’t know?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” You paced around, trying to find some kind of memory to share that would make both you and Peter feel better. “Oh, okay! So, when Tony was a teenager, his friends dared him to hack into the Pentagon. The FBI ended up showing up to our house and Tony proudly owned up to it because he knew he was untouchable. He never knew this, but even our dad was impressed.” You reminisced, hearing Peter chuckle a little. That made you feel a lot better about the situation.

“That sounds like Tony.” Peter said. If you hadn’t noticed, he’s on a first-name basis now. You were glad he was more comfortable with that.

“Where are you, Peter?” You were concerned with his whereabouts, he seemed better than he did a moment ago, but you didn’t want him to be alone.

“I was patrolling, but I’m not really feeling up to it right now. I think the coast is clear for the night.” He sighed and shut his eyes as he felt more tears fighting to surface.

“Do you want to wait, like, twenty minutes for me and we can go get some food? You can choose the place, I don’t mind.” You offered, which delighted Peter. He was still holding in those tears, poor kid.

“Yeah, sounds good, see ya!” He quickly hung up the phone and burst into tears at the building he was perched on. Peter just couldn’t keep it together sometimes, but he didn’t know what he’d do if you hadn’t stepped in when you did.

Meanwhile, you had just started letting out all the emotions that had built up during that call. No one told you that you’d have to keep it together for the kid, but you swear you’d do anything to help him out, just like your brother before you. You sat on your floor, leaning against the side of your bed as you wailed into your hands. You hadn’t cried this hard in months, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

You looked up at the picture on your nightstand of Tony and you at one of his extravagant parties, you really missed those crazy days. But you just have to keep telling yourself that you can’t live in the past anymore or else it’ll break you. What you can do is cherish the parts of your past worth remembering and honor those who are no longer with us. Peter will learn that soon, you just have to be patient.

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @allthecreativeonesaretaken // @frostedgiant // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica //

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bewaretheidesofmarchyall · 4 years

Text

Soulmate Shenanigans

So, lucky me, I found this list of prompts!

Unlucky me, it was for a September event. Surprise, surprise, this is not September

That isn’t going to stop me from doing this, though!

So, without further ado, prompt number one!

Your Soulmate’s name is written on your wrist or palm

Warnings for death mentions galore and drowning, as well as something that isn’t drug use, but if drug use is a triggering topic for you I wouldn’t recommend you read

Not as angsty as these warnings would suggest, but there is still Angst

I don’t know how it got angsty I just work here

World building

The first recorded instance of a palm mark was when Lady Natalia of Venice nearly drowned in a canal

She’d been on her way home from a party alongside her fiance when she “tripped” (the word “tripped” here means “Was pushed by her fiance for financial reasons”) into the river. Her husband-to-be quickly exited the scene, leaving her to be weighed down by her skirts and die.

Angela (forger of swords and mixer of poisons, just happened to be in the neighborhood when she heard a scream and a splash) had other plans. She dove into the water, saving Natalia and cutting her hand in the process.

The two women spent a good deal of time together after that, the scientific Natalia claiming that she only wanted to know why her name was on Angela’s hand.

Some historians claim that the two were platonic soulmates. While this is possible, and platonic soulmates have a long and wonderful history, no one with common sense believes this to be the case

They exchanged love letters that were quite clear that the attraction was a romantic one.

Some historians also claim that there isn’t enough evidence to suggest that they killed the fiance.

Those historians are wrong.

Anyway, in modern days 97% of the population has a palm mark with the name of their soulmate

The tattoo industry has never had so many illegal opportunities

When your soulmate dies, the name doesn’t scar. It doesn’t blister, burn, or black out. All that happens is a thin, impersonal line crossing their name out. Some people don’t notice who they lost for days.

There’s a process to remove palm marks. However, it’s illegal and possibly fatal for the soulmate being removed.

Our Characters

Roman: Roman was confused by the name of his soulmate.

Who names their kid “Janus”?

Am I soulmates with a roman deity? The heck?? SO MANY QUESTIONS AND SO LITTLE ANSWERS

Roman was so excited to have a soulmate. He kept entire journals filled with things he wanted to tell Janus, part diary, part scrapbook, and part love letter. He would doodle hearts around his palm mark.

One night, in April, Roman went to sleep. In the morning, there was a line across his palm.

His soulmate had died, and he hadn’t even seen the line drawn. He broke a little.

Enough said.

Roman took the passion that he’d had for his Janus and channeled it into his acting. If he couldn’t get love, he’d get a fucking Tony Award.

Remus: Remus had been annoyed by his brother’s complaining.

“Oh, boo-hoo, my soulmate has a rare name. That means that as soon as I meet him, I’ll know exactly who he is! Roman, DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE NAMED LOGAN”

Remus was annoyed that his soulmate had the audacity to have a common name. In theory, he could date all of the 18,000 Logans in the country, but does he really have the time?

He and his brother bicker about this for a solid seven years, until the argument abruptly ends. Ever since then, he’s been on his brother’s side in everything he can.

Logan: It made total sense for Logan to not have a soulmate.

His soulmate would have been unlucky, being stuck with a know-it-all like him, at least according to most of the people he knew.

This was a simple solution to the puzzle.

It wasn’t helpful to waste time wishing for a different one.

Janus: Janus had a whole plan for when he met his soulmate.

He wrote it down in 10th grade

Step 1: Wear gloves

Step 2: Find Roman

Step 3: Say something witty

Step 4: Remove gloves, revealing palm

Step 5: This little mystery is over and done with, and hopefully my soulmate isn’t boring

This was how a lot of Janus’s plans would work. Solid ideas, but missing bits and important pieces. This includes his heist plan he scribbled out on a napkin on an April day.

Step 1: Find local con-artists

Step 2: Pretend to be a person with money (which I obviously do not have)

Step 3: Scam them

Step 4: Don’t get murdered on the way out

Step 5: Profit

He pulled off steps 1-3 with ease, but step 4 proved to be a sticking point.

As he escaped via the river, with money in his hands and a “so long, suckers!” on his lips for drama, he thought nothing could go wrong

Fun fact: It’s rather common for con artists to fatally give away their positions by yelling “so long, suckers!”. Just ask Odysseus as he sailed away from the Cyclops.

The con artists shot wildly at his boat, blowing it to pieces. As he went down with the ship, he barely had enough time to think this can’t be happening, and fuck this and I’m going to die at the same age as Philip fucking Hamilton and I really don’t want to go to hell before his lungs filled with water and his heart stopped.

And Janus died.

For a solid two minutes.

Technically, death is when your heart ceases to beat. Even though people have been revived after their hearts have stopped, it is death, and enough to draw a line across a sleeping Roman’s hand.

Janus, however, was saved by an old man, who dragged him out of the river and forced the water out of his lungs. The old man took one look at the teenager and decided that he needed better role models, which is how Patton took Janus under his wing and saved his life in more ways than one.

The Actual Plot

Roman is in a city production of Hamlet. His brother is in the audience, his friend is fixing the lighting, and he’s ready to go.

It’s a pretty good performance, by all accounts, but especially according to Janus.

He’d already been watching the main actor intently, smiling from the mezzanine, but he was even more intrigued when he read the playbill and realized his name was Roman. He could barely pay attention to act five as he planned out the lies he’d tell to get backstage.

Somehow, he didn’t get caught sneaking around, and managed to catch a glimpse of Roman’s hand in a mirror. Janus. He really is his soulmate!

Janus walks over to Roman, says something that isn’t as witty as he would have liked (but not as bad as it could have been), and removes his glove.

Now, he expected his soulmate could have a variety of reactions. He didn’t expect Roman to yell “Not today, ghost!”, throw a prop skull at him, and sprint out of the theater. Janus caught a glimpse of the line through his name.

He was reasonably sure that he wasn’t dead? He could see his reflection in mirrors, he could consume salt, people tended to notice his existence!

Jan didn’t have much time to mull over this, as he was about to be forcibly removed from the greenroom. Logan just wanted to fix the lighting and live his life, but when strangers break into the backstage and upset Roman...

Jan skedaddles as Logan chases him out of the building. The nerd has almost caught the intruder when he runs directly into a man in a green jacket holding a coffee cup full of ketchup

Why did he have a coffee cup full of ketchup?

Remus and Logan bicker as Janus escapes. When Remus realizes Logan’s name, he asks a few questions, but Logan quickly shows his two blank palms, and the matter is settled.

Everything seems over and done with.

Meanwhile, Roman is freaking out. His mind is essentially in a loop of The fuck? The fuck? The actual fuck? He’s completely unsure of what to do. Is he seeing ghosts? Does he only believe he’s seeing ghosts? Is he sane or not?

Remus checks up on his brother at around 3 am, only to find him, exhausted, and writing in his old soulmate journal. Roman tries to explain what just happened, but the narrative told isn’t exactly coherent. All Remus can gather is that

1. His brother thinks that his dead soulmate is alive

2. This is because some guy snuck backstage and told him that he was the dead soulmate in question

3. This was probably the guy Logan was chasing

Remus convinced Roman to go to sleep, and walked out of the apartment with blood on his mind. He was sure that his brother was being manipulated.

This guy might not be dead now, but he would be soon.

Meanwhile, Janus proves that he can, in fact, cross a salt circle, so he must be alive! Right?? He also can’t get a certain actor out of his head, and wonders what his next move should be.

Remus recruits Logan to help him do some investigation in case Shady Liar Dude shows up. They go on several stakeouts together, in equally improbable locations. Maybe the two of them got too far into the secret agent aesthetic. Logan had always wanted to be a detective as a kid.

They fall for each other, and fast

Roman is spiraling, and a chat with Remus has him convinced that he was wrong, and Janus really is dead. He curses himself for believing in the pretty fairy-tale. Yes, because love wins in the end and they all live happily ever after. He has a performance tomorrow.

And it’s really time he got rid of the old scar.

You don’t hang around Remus without knowing where the black market locations are. It’s relatively easy to find the cure for palm marks.

He paces around backstage, holding a journal in one hand and a small bottle in the other. The warning that destroying the palm mark destroys the soulmate causes terror to rise in his throat, even though he knows that Janus is dead and can never read his love letters no matter how many stars he wishes on.

He finally makes his choice when Remus and Logan visit him before the performance. They give him looks of pity. He doesn’t want to be pitied.

According to the label, effects should take place over the next several hours. So, he waits for Janus’s name to disappear from his hand.

Janus managed to hustle someone with orchestra seats for their tickets. Despite not getting off on the right foot with his soulmate, he isn’t going to let him go that easily. And Roman’s brilliant performance that night just reinforces that. If he was good weeks ago, he was a star now. Janus was transfixed.

When the curtain call came, Janus was the first on his feet for a standing ovation. Remus and Logan noticed him, and pushed their way through the applauding audience. Both of them almost hoped that he’d get away again so they could continue spending time together.

Roman notices him. They lock eyes. Janus waves as though to say Hi, I’m here, apologies for the awkwardness of our meet-cute, but coffee? Roman gives him a look of disdain, as if to say I can’t believe I thought you were my soulmate, you con artist. He intends to look away and bask in the applause, but before he can do that, Janus collapeses.

Roman is confused at first, and then it clicks. That’s his soulmate. That’s his Janus.

And he killed him.

Pandemonium breaks out. Roman leaps off the stage, Remus freezes in panicked comprehension, the crowd scatters, and several people try to reach the dying man.

Logan gets there first. His mind scans memories of hours spent in libraries, researching everything there is to know about palm marks. Why didn’t some people have them? How did you lose them? How could you get them back?

He instructs Remus and Roman to help carry Janus to the greenroom.

They race him there, everyone in a state of panic (including Logan, but more importantly he has a job to do). Logan tells Remus to run and get a few basic ingredients, and they wait. Time moves much too fast and much too slow, until he comes back.

Logan works chemical wonders, piecing together Roman’s hand until everything is stabilized.

A vicious scar, the type you’d except if your soulmate was really gone, forms on Roman’s palm, and it will stay there for the rest of his days.

Janus comes back from death’s door for the second time.

After The Drama

Logan and Remus eventually move past the “but I don’t have a soulmate” “and yet I still am in love with you” dithering and go on a date that isn’t for the purpose of stalking a supposed stalker.

They go to the aquarium.

Meanwhile, there’s a lot to work out between Roman and Janus. From “wow, you’re not dead” to “wow, I nearly murdered you”, we don’t have time to unpack all that.

But they do get coffee. And they talk.

Soulmate stuff! I really like soulmate aus, despite not liking to write straight up romance

It’s weird

Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

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ijustwant2write · 4 years

Text

‘You’re not as strong as him!’-Sam Wilson x Reader

(GIF credit to @spideyjlaw)

Summary: After Sam receives Steve’s shield (alongside the huge responsibility of being the new Captain America), (Y/N) can’t help but worry over her friend. He and Steve were not the same person, but the weight of it all comes crashing down on both of them.

Characters: Sam Wilson x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mention of death, violence, angst, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Y/N) stood outside of the Stark’s home, arms folded over one another as she watched the interaction going on ahead of her. After all the things she had seen, all the things she had been through, it was amazing that something could still shock her this much. She had been sneakily watching as Steve took back the infinity stones, only to cause panic when he didn’t return as expected; only she saw what Bucky was gazing at, an old man sat on a bench in the distance, shield propped up beside him. It had been a bizarre picture, her eyes almost popping out of their sockets when she saw Steve hand Sam the shield.

Everyone was inside now, all except Sam. Sat at the same bench as Steve, looking down at the shield beside him, he hadn’t come back for over an hour. (Y/N) didn’t want to ask questions about him, Sam wouldn’t want all the attention. Instead, (Y/N) slipped outside, wrapping her arms around her torso from the chill in the air as she walked towards him. Sam glanced behind him when he heard someone approaching, relaxing as (Y/N) smiled at him. He smiled back, though it was obvious how fake it was.

“You OK?” (Y/N) breathed out as she sat down.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded his head, eyes not leaving the shield before them.

“Just when you thought you had seen it all.”

He chuckled at that.“Can’t say I was expecting this. I took it but...when I held it, I could feel the weight of his legacy in my hands.”

“You��re Sam Wilson, the Falcon. You’re not Steve Rogers.”

“I know. Which makes it all the more stressful.”

(Y/N) wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders, squeezing it gently.“I’m right here, always. You know that, right?”

He looked down at her, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her closer.“I know. And I’m grateful for that.”

Things had been strange since Tony’s funeral. Of course, everyone was in mourning, nothing would be exactly the same after what happened. And after such a huge battle against Thanos and his army, how could anyone be at peace that soon? Those who survived mostly focused on training, it was the only thing that could distract themselves from their thoughts or release their anger. Some chose to socialise, needing people around to remind themselves that they had won, and the nightmares plaguing their sleep were all fake; others stayed locked up in their rooms, not able to strike up a conversation as easily as they used to, worried that the topic would soon move onto how they were feeling about everything that happened. No one wanted to relive that.

“Morning Bucky.” (Y/N) lightly greeted the man who was looking out of the window.

He only hummed in response, clearly focused on something.

“What are you looking at?” (Y/N) quietly asked, not wanting to disturb him.

“Sam’s been out there for a while, with the shield.”

(Y/N) stood beside him, following his gaze to their friend. Sam’s eyes were burning into the shield which he was holding once again, moving it around as the sun reflected off of it. Slowly, he slipped his arm through it, standing as Steve once did. (Y/N) flinched as he drew his arm back, quickly throwing it before it got wedged in a tree trunk. Sam was staring at it, as were Bucky and (Y/N).

“Why are you so tense?” Bucky broke the silence.

“I’m worried.” she mumbled, still looking at Sam.

“Steve wouldn’t hand it over if he didn’t think Sam was right for it.”

“I know. But he’s not Steve.”

“(Y/N), the battle is over, maybe forever, maybe for a few days. You’re one of the stronger ones here, you know how to keep everyone else in high spirits, or keep them stable in times like this. But you’re not looking after yourself.”

“I’m fine Bucky. I’m not the one who has Captain America’s shield.”

He began to walk away.“And I’m not the one hiding my feelings, despite losing someone I love multiple times.”

There was no spite in his voice. It was soft, as if nudging (Y/N) to think about herself, think about what she truly wanted. This line of work meant putting the world first, all those lives before your own; but after saving them all those times, part of her wondered if it was finally (Y/N)’s turn to find her own happiness. If the man she wanted would have her that is. Taking a very deep breath, (Y/N) glanced once more at Sam who was fetching the shield before making her way down to him. There were many emotions swirling around in her head and gut, trying to think of something to start the conversation. As she stepped outside, Sam was making his way towards the building, smiling when he saw her.

“If you’re here to see the show, I’m afraid it’s already over.” He said, gesturing to the shield.

“I saw you throw it, made quite a dent in the tree.”

Sam looked back at it.“Uh, yeah. Best not tell anyone about that.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“What you doing out here anyway?”

A strain of profanities were screaming in (Y/N)’s mind, panicking over what to say.“Just...came to see you.”

“What’s wrong? You seem a little...off.”

“Sam I...I’m worried about you. The shield, it’s the only thing on your mind.”

He chuckled out of nerves.“I mean, it sort of has to be.”

“Don’t you think after all that’s happened, you should take a break first?”

“Shouldn’t everyone?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“(Y/N), what is this really about?”

She huffed, pushing aside her feelings to tell him the truth.“I’m worried because you’re not Steve. You’re Sam. You weren’t injected with super solider serum that gives you incredible strength, or helps you recover much faster than an average human. I just don’t want you to think now that you have the shield, you’re suddenly invincible.”

Sam’s mouth hung open, scoffing at her.“What are you trying to say? That I’m not good enough for the shield?”

“It’s not a matter of if you’re good enough-”

“So I’m not then?”

“What? Yes, of course you are!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

He brushed past her, causing (Y/N) to sigh as she ran after him.

“Sam, I’m saying this as your friend.”

“A friend would support me.”

“And a friend would look out for you!”

They were both facing each other, intensely glaring into the other’s eyes. (Y/N) could have screamed at him, finally confessing her true feelings for the man she had fought beside all these years; but the courage she was used to wasn’t there anymore.

“Forget it.” she shakily breathed out, scurrying away before Sam could say anything else.

It was extremely frustrating for (Y/N) to not be able to express herself when it came to the sensitive topic of love. Being a S.H.I.E.L.D agent had restricted her from doing that. The only people you ever interacted with were the ones you worked with. And it was rare to see any type of romance happening, even secretly between colleagues.

(Y/N) found herself in the gym, not using any of the equipment but pacing up and down the mats, stuck with her thoughts. She had considered using the punching bag to relieve stress, though couldn’t muster up enough strength. Her body felt exhausted. Giving up, she slumped down onto the floor, bringing her knees in to her chest. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't she say the right thing to Sam to make him see what she was thinking? What she was feeling? It had all come out wrong.

"Hey."

A voice made her head lift up, seeing Sam standing in the doorway.

"Hi." she replied, scared as to where the conversation would be about.

Sam slowly approached her."I'm sorry about earlier. We shouldn't have argued like that."

"I just wish you would listen to me." she mumbled as he sat beside her.

"I am listening."

"I..." (Y/N) found it hard to look at him."I'm not good with this Sam."

"What are you talking about? You're just talking to me."

"Exactly!" she huffed, moving to sit on top of her knees.

"(Y/N), what's going on?" Sam was more assertive, reaching out to put his hand over hers, surprised when she snatched it away.

"What I was saying earlier, about me being concerned for you, I didn't get to explain myself properly."

"I understand-"

"You don't though Sam! I've seen you injured, laying beside Steve in a hospital bed. And who was released days, maybe even over a week before the other?"

"I'm not trying to be like Steve."

"What about the pressure of everyone else's opinions? I can see it happening. You become comfortable with it, you're doing an amazing job, then one person says something and it knocks you down. You're going to try and take on much more than you actually can, and you'll get hurt, and I'll see you in worse shape than I've seen you before. I can't see you like that Sam."

Although she was ranting, it wasn't full of hysteria. Sam had kept up with everything she said, but was still confused.

"Slow down. (Y/N), I'm not going to let it get to me."

(Y/N) sighed, standing up and turning away as she felt her eyes tear up. Why wasn't it getting through to him?

"Sam I...I'm trying my hardest to tell you this-"

Sam jumped to his feet, circling (Y/N) to be in front of her. He grew sad when he saw the tears falling down her cheeks, realising how much this was upsetting her.

"Hey, just breathe OK? It's just you and me." Sam gently held her shoulders, breathing in sync with her.

"Sam," (Y/N) finally said after she calmed herself,"we've been through a lot, with everyone I know, but whenever there's been a fight, you're the only person on my mind. After Thanos, after you disappeared in front of me, I thought I would never see you again. And every day after that, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"You were the first person I wanted to see when we came back." Sam confidently said.

"I was?"

"Of course! But what with everything that happened after, I didn't want to just bombard you with these feelings I've hidden from you. That mixed with...well,im just going to say it, the lives we lost wouldn't work."

"I understand. I've wanted to tell you for so long. But I've never done anything like this before."

"We're here, we're together. We've been through a battle like no other. And looking at you now, I can't risk losing you without you knowing how I feel for you."

Feeling that she could say anything more, (Y/N) placed her hand on the back of Sam's neck, pulling him down to meet her lips. Sam's hands slowly moved from her shoulders to wrap around her waist, holding her tighter. Fights put things into perspective, especially a battle as intense as that. (Y/N) found that body language worked better for her, and if that meant kissing Sam all the time to show her feelings, she wouldn't be complaining.

#Sam wilson #sam wilson imagine #Sam Wilson imagine #sam wilson imagines #Sam Wilson one shot #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel one shot #marvel x reader #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fan fiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot

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davidmann95 · 4 years

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So... Crossover #1: any thoughts?

Anonymous said: You seemed not to think much of Crossover #1 on Twitter. Your full thoughts?

wcwit said: So Cates' Crossover #1, best bad comic of the year or just regular pretentious trash?

An incidental note upfront: What you’re seeing there is the apparently SUPER-RARE SECRET VARIANT COVER I unwittingly picked up at the store - at first glance indistinguishable from the standard cover, the kid getting four-color-fucked by mysterious comic book rays is in fact themselves reading a variant cover of the book, rather than the main cover again in an infinite painting-within-a-painting sort of deal that’s the standard.

So I wasn’t gonna get this: my initial post on the comic and what an obviously awful idea it was back when we only knew half the premise and it was known as Pray The Capes Away actually got some out-of-nowhere traction recently, and I’ve grown rapidly tired of Cates’ Marvel work. Even learning that it was going to be Image’s biggest debut in decades - Jesus fuck, how and why - mostly just made me wish it was Commanders in Crisis getting those kinds of numbers. But Sean Dillon/@deathchrist2000 and Ritesh Babu both got early looks at it and assured me that I, specifically, needed to see the last page, so in I dove. I’ll be posting my reaction to the last page below because I recorded it for their amusement, and below that I’ll talk about said last page. It may surprise you, however, that that wasn’t my main takeaway from the issue.

Let’s accentuate the positive first! This book is gorgeous. Geoff Shaw was terrific back with Thanos Wins, but this is an incredible stylistic level-up aided and abetted by Dee Cunniffe’s colors: it’s rote as hell to say “They mix the elevated and the mundane so well!”, but even beyond the obvious ben-day dots stuff there’s such a tangible sense that the comic book beings don’t belong here, that they’re of higher, misty, platonic stuff and we squishy non-paper-people inevitably crumble and break and bleed in their wake, communicating that big idea so much more powerfully than the actual loads of text on the subject. And if we’re talking good things, I’ll concede it’s possible that there could be subtleties that play out in more interesting ways as it goes on, and that not everything is meant to be taken at face value: a smart friend who actually did like it mentioned being interested in it as clumsy but potentially effective exploration of ‘what if the fun hobby you had inadvertently became contaminated and stigmatized by forces beyond your control?’ In a post-Comicsgate world where we recently ended up inches away from the Superman logo almost certainly becoming a fascist propaganda symbol ala the Punisher skull for at least a generation, that’s a defensible lens to view this book through.

For all Donny Cates’ legitimate talents however, I don’t think an expectation of subtlety is gonna work out with this one.

Okay first off getting into the rest of it the main characters’ name is Ellipsis because “Those three little dots...they can become anything”, so there’s that. More importantly, in the world of this story where comic fans face social oppression after superpeople materialize and fuck up Colorado, they face EVERY KIND OF OPPRESSION: there are clear parallels drawn in here to the violence and harassment faced by people persecuted for their religion, people seeking abortions, queer people, and people of color; this motherfucker even drops a “hates and fears” to let us know comic collecting basically makes you one of the goddamn X-Men. Which in theory could be a purely misjudged allegory rather than stemming from actual, obscenely inflated to the point of disgusting fears of ‘nerd oppression’, except that the book literally opens with a quote from Wertham. If Cates didn’t want to make the message “Hating comics? That’s bad. Like, racism bad”, he utterly, grotesquely failed by inextricably intermingling imagery of real-world bigotry with systemic, deluded fanboy paranoia, at least as of this first issue that’s supposed to meaningfully convey the premise. As a queer dude I think I’m somewhat in my lane to say it’s too blunt and broad and dopey to be particularly offensive, but the co-opting of oppression is what this is rooted in.

The idea of ‘comics good no matter what people think, ain’t it?’ extends to the last traditional local comic store standing in this world: much as superheroes are the primary cause of suffering in this world but the point of the story is still supposed to reveal the beauty in them, part of this is that the comics community isn’t perfect but it sure is great. Which is expressed here via Ellie’s boss Otto, a loveable asshole who yells at people coming in trying to sell the wrong kind of comics to fuck off, but at heart is we’re supposed to understand a good enough dude that the shop he runs is “the only home a lot of (the benighted nerds) have left” (because I guess in this alternate universe the physical stores are still the main hub through which comics fans talk with one another?).

So here’s a story of my very own! That’s me in 2013, it must’ve been some kind of special day because I’m wearing a shirt with a button. I’d at that point only frequented one of what would be my thus far four regular comic shops. The first was a great place, and while to say I had a sense of community there would be overstating it a bit, I was on really good terms with the owner and we regularly chatted when we had the time. When I left for college my store there wasn’t as well-stocked, and for some damn reason all variant covers were double-price, but I got along really well with the owner there too. The third I wasn’t so lucky; the guy regularly behind the desk was never overtly hostile, but clearly wanted to wring my neck every time I asked when a missing comic might get in or if I could update my pull list, and given I’m in the ‘ideal’ demographic for being a comic book store regular and was dropping a solid lump of money there every week, I wonder how others were treated there (the store nearly went under, was saved on the last day of operation by another store that wanted to incorporate it as part of its franchise, then shortly afterwards DID go under and is now I believe a beef jerky place). My current store is fine, I didn’t chat much with the folks behind the counter even before we all had medical incentive to get in and out of places fairly quickly but it almost always has what I’m looking for.

Just because those were my regular stores of course doesn’t mean those are the only ones I’ve ever gone to. About a year before that picture was taken - it’s the closest I could find - when I was 17 my store didn’t have something or another I was looking for, so I head across town to see if another place I had looked up had it. This other place didn’t have what I was looking for either, though I distinctly remember picking up a few issues of Hickman’s FF while I was there since I had foolishly fallen off, hence my remembering the year. I bought a couple issues, but hung around for a bit looking to see if I might grab something else out of a dollar box, setting my comics down. Without realizing it, I’d set my books down on top of another issue, and when I decided I wasn’t getting anything else, I just picked that up along with the rest of the pile and was about to walk out before the owner stopped me. He explained what I had done though assumed it had been deliberate, and because I was a good-hearted little geek I even recall thinking “Well, he’s gonna chew me out, but I guess I deserve it. I’ll try and take this to heart as a learning experience.”

Then he pulled up his shirt a little to show me the gun on his belt. He pointed at the security camera monitors at his desk, and explained to me that if I ever did something like that again, he would have it on tape, and he would pull that gun on me and hold me there while he called the cops.

As it turned out, the comic was free.

The whole thing was so sudden and bizarre and unexpected I didn’t actually freak out until the drive home. It wasn’t until weeks or maybe months later that I managed to tell my dad about the experience, because I *had* nearly stolen a (free) comic and my guilt was mixed in with my nerves and I guess I was somehow too close to register just how disproportionate his response was. It wasn’t until now, nearly a decade later and thinking about it for the first time in a long time as I write this, that I wondered if that might have gone differently - especially living in the midwest - if I hadn’t been a white, squeaky-voiced 17-year-old.

So, minor spoiler, when our cantankerous but well-meaning LCS owner yells to call the cops and grabs and yells at a small kid for pocketing a comic (and later displays fantasy racism towards said kid), I am not filled with nostalgic love for the brotherly safe space that is comic book stores, where this guy while not meant to be seen as perfect is still framed in part as a charming, witty representation of Why We Love These Places, And This Community, And This Genre, And This Medium. Cates is clearly drawing on real time at his local stores, but he equally clearly has a very different takeaway from those experiences than me. And I am, again, in a demographic - white, cis-male, abled, bi but more interested in women, disposable income, a lifelong collector - that the industry and a lot of the guys who sell it to us contort themselves around catering to, even if I had a single very negative experience and later an ongoing low-key uncomfortable one to help disabuse me of any notions of the purity of the dork community. In the world of Crossover as of #1, toxicity is intertwined, deliberately or not on the part of the creators, with what we love on the cosmic and small business scales alike, but at least in the latter case it’s the whole picture that’s beautiful, not any single kernel that needs to be worked on to be dug up.

So underneath is my video reaction to the last page of Crossover #1. Very minor spoilers because I mutter the last two words of the comic to myself, but under the video I discuss said final page and some other scattered thoughts. Whether you read that or not, my takeaway is this: I’m fascinated with wherever the hell this thing is going, I’m glad my dad liked it well enough to want to keep getting it because now I’ll get to see where it heads, but my first impression is that this is at heart meant as cheapass Oscar-bait for people who only read Batman. It’s big and high-concept but also small and intimate! It’s meta and about how great you, the reader are for your consumption, especially the consumption of this! It’s going to be in large part about a forbidden love between a couple divided across impermeable social lines (a couple where they’re a seemingly straight white man and woman, but one likes comics)! Maybe it’ll become Not That, and I’m sure it’ll do at least something interesting along the way because Cates has done good stuff before and there are some inherently interesting big ideas for him to play with here, but for the love of god if you’re thinking about getting this buy Commanders in Crisis too or instead, it’s another new book out of Image about superheroes dealing with the collapse of the multiverse but that one is really fucking good.

So the final page splash reveal is that when the comic book child discovered in here got out of Colorado, which has had an impenetrable energy shield erected around it by one of the heroes for years, she and others were ferried out of there...by Superman, as the narration declares that “This is a story...about hope.” They don’t say the word, but she sketches her savior, Ellie and Otto freak out and go “Is that---” when they see it, and on that last page we see that while a crude drawing it isn’t a rough analogue character, it’s a guy with a cape and trunks with an S on his chest. Surprisingly, I don’t have much to say: it’s just another blunt signifier that superheroes rule and are the best, paired with the most utterly devalued notion as of late of what makes Superman special in ‘hope’. I mean, I’m perversely excited to see whether this is building the entire series on a hook it can never deliver on, or if Cates actually has talked DC into an intercompany crossover; believable given they’ve done a bunch of those over the last several years, and why else would Mark Waid be supervising as ‘story editor’ on this? I guess it’ll shake out one way or another with #6 given Cates has said it “has one of the more epic and — I would argue historic — sequences in comic book history in it.” But I’m far less convinced this is gonna truly go into the meaty question of “What does Superman mean and what makes him unique in this world where superheroes in general are indisputably either failures or monstrous bastards given the scale of destruction their presence has brought about, and he himself failed to stop that?” than as some kind of holy grail of how great superheroes are despite how dang violent they’ve gotten these days for the crew to chase after, whatever additional twist will surely be placed upon it. At least he’s kinda helping an immigrant kid get over a wall, if that’s deliberate?

Random final thoughts:

* If I wrote the opening essay and turned it in in a college course, I would be expelled for plagiarizing Grant Morrison. This is not a joke.

* If mainstream American superhero comics ended January 2017 in this universe, its own last ‘crossover’ was Civil War II, which is hilarious.

* God, please tell me if it takes the dive after all that this isn’t somehow tied into whatever Waid’s Superman project is.

* I wouldn’t normally crap on issues with the finer details of worldbuilding, but A. This is rooted in a nominally ‘real’ world playing by recognizable rules, B. I’m ragging on this anyway so what’s the harm, and C. It’s really obvious. So: Why is one of the racists against the superheroes the guy who loves superheroes so much he’s the last holdout in the entire world still selling comic books about them? How does this modestly-sized shop exist long-term with apparently a significant regular customer base if there are no new comics or even reprints to restock with, ever? Who’s buying the serialized cop/cowboy comics that the U.S. government apparently created pretty much overnight (nobody, it’s just another Wertham dig)?

* The solicit for issue #3 proclaims “Don't miss this one, folks. If you do, it just might drive you...mad.”, so now I fear some kind of Ultra Comics riff.

* “Kids love chains” is the most metal-ass quote of all time and I hate that it’s being wasted as an arc title on this book.

#Donny Cates #Geoff Shaw #Dee Cunniffe #John J. Hill #Mark Waid #Me #Superman #Opinion

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cheshiresense · 4 years

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Hadrian/Orion (I just can't let go of them, I love them so much) with an added Soulmate AU to everything else, please ?

Lmao Hadrian/Orion, what a surprise~ Let’s go with a classic ‘the one where you have your soulmate’s name written on your body’ AU.

1. In all 22 years of his first life, Hadrian never finds his soulmate. Plenty of people try of course (tattoos are a thing even in the magical world and people can be seriously weird), and even more of them want, to be the Boy-Who-Lived’s destined soulmate, but none of them were born with Hadrian’s name on their wrist, and Hadrian promised himself a long time ago when he was still a little boy in a cupboard under the stairs with no family and no real home, when he’d seen the name appear at seven years old and then learned that the person whose name was on his wrist belonged to him and no one else, he’d sworn he would never love another, not the way one should love a soulmate. It didn’t matter when Aunt Petunia muttered about freakish names, didn’t matter when Uncle Vernon told him his soulmate would be better off without him - Orion Black was Hadrian’s soulmate, and nobody in the world could ever take this one thing away from him.

It’s considered even worse manners to ask to see someone’s soulmate than it is to ask to see Hadrian’s scar, so nobody asks, not even Ron. There are shops that sell wristbands in all colours and designs, and in the magical world, those designs even move. Hadrian gets a solid black band with the constellation Orion stitched into it, and for years and years to come, when he was scared or hurt or alone, even just seeing the tiny silver stars winking back at him in the dark of night would make him feel safer.

The first time he shows someone the name on his wrist is… well, he doesn’t actually show anyone. But Sirius hugs him, tight and fierce, at the top of a Hogwarts tower after he and Hermione rescue him from Dementors, and when he pulls back, for a moment, his gaze catches on the band around Hadrian’s wrist. His face goes a little funny, recognition coiled with bafflement, but there’s no time for anything else, and sooner rather than later, Sirius is gone with Buckbeak.

(Sirius lives another two years before he dies. Hadrian is fifteen and angry at a world that would rather be led like sheep to a slaughter than face their fears, and his godfather pulls him aside and shows him the Black family tapestry and the only Orion Black on it.

“I recognized the constellation so I thought I’d check, just in case,” Sirius explains, and in this first life, he is the first and only person Hadrian bares his wrist to. The script is still there, solid blue and visible, so they’re definitely still alive, but there are no other Orions on the tapestry aside from Sirius’ dad. Sirius grins anyway, optimistic and encouraging in a way that momentarily wipes Azkaban from his face. “Who knows, maybe there’s a bastard out there who escaped my family’s attention. Or maybe it’s a muggleborn. I hear Black isn’t that uncommon a name in the muggle world.”)

The war begins again when Hadrian is fourteen. It ends when he’s twenty-one. The name on his wrist never fades, and he spends every day hoping his soulmate lives, that they don’t attend Hogwarts, that they’re not even on the Merlin-damned continent.

And then Fate comes calling, and Hadrian thinks maybe his soulmate had been much farther away from him than even he ever guessed.

2. Orion is born with Harry Potter on his wrist. He’d been dumped at a muggle orphanage shortly after his birth, and then that orphanage had been ravaged by a werewolf pack when he was two. Maybe that’s why nobody ever wondered exactly when his name came in. Nobody who might’ve known stuck around long enough to tell the orphanage, and with green script the colour of Harry’s eyes, everyone just made the most logical assumption after Sirius and Remus adopted him. But the truth of it is this - he was born five months earlier than Harry, with a name already etched into his wrist. Harry Potter - this Harry Potter - could not possibly be his soulmate.

But nobody knows that. Instead, their families see the name on Orion’s wrist, and then they see a completely different name on Harry’s wrist, and Orion becomes one of the very few destined for an incomplete soul. It’s just a figure of speech of course, his soul is as whole as anybody’s, but it sets him apart from the very beginning, garners pity as much as being a werewolf garners contempt, and his only saving grace is the fact that not even Harry would stoop to blabbing about Orion’s soul-name in public, even if it does make for very easy ammunition against him. Besides, it’s easy enough to sneer “no one will ever want to be your soulmate” and pretend it’s only because Orion is a werewolf.

So Orion spends the next ten years and change following Harry around like a dog begging for any small scrap of affection. It had been fine at first, for a few years, before Harry found out about the werewolf secret and changed. Even though he didn’t have Orion’s name, Harry had told him it was fine, they were still family no matter what. It was fine, until it wasn’t, and by the age of fourteen, Orion had almost convinced himself that he didn’t care. Didn’t care that his soulmate hated him. Didn’t care that Harry had turned most of their school against him. Didn’t care that most of the world would rather his kind didn’t exist.

But then Hadrian Evans had swept into his life like a natural disaster, changing everything he touched without even trying, pulling everyone into his orbit whether they liked it or not, and refusing to live in a world where Orion was treated as lesser, so he demanded the world change for Orion instead.

And for the first time in his life, Orion looks at his own wrist and wishes it was someone else’s name, because however much Harry had hurt him, broken him, left him feeling something very close to hatred, he’d never quite managed to stop wanting Harry to accept him, to like him, to finally see Orion’s loyalty and bring him back into the fold, not until he’d met Hadrian and realized that yes, he did deserve better.

3. The first time Hadrian lays eyes on Orion and Neville tells him his name, he knows, absolutely knows, straight down to his bones - yes, this is the one, this is my soulmate, this person was who I was waiting for.

He doesn’t march right up and reveal all, obviously. For one, it takes weeks to get past Orion’s icy exterior, with good reason. For another, the whole dimension travel thing is hardly something Hadrian can just go around telling people about. And for a third… well. Orion has given no indication that Hadrian Evans is what’s written on his wrist. He could be hiding it, like Hadrian, but Hadrian likes to think he would’ve noticed. Orion’s not actually that hard to read once you get past his walls. On the other hand, if he has Harry Potter written on his wrist, that’s a bit of a problem too. Which Harry Potter does it mean? Is that why Orion was so loyal to Harry even though the other boy had done nothing to deserve it?

But Fate gave Hadrian Orion Black, printed out in vivid blue the colour of Orion’s eyes, and surely Hadrian wouldn’t have been plucked out of his own world and dropped into this specific universe if the only Orion he’s ever met isn’t his soulmate.

Fate of course is no help at all.

In the end, he decides it doesn’t matter. Orion is fourteen - Hadrian isn’t putting a finger on him until he’s legal, and even then, it has to be Orion’s choice. Just because the universe has matched two people together doesn’t mean it always works out, and Hadrian isn’t going to be one of those arseholes who tries to force their soulmate into a relationship just because of what’s written on their skin. And soulbonds aren’t always romantic. There are plenty of platonic ones in the world as well.

Besides, he knows Orion feels a measure of gratitude to him for befriending him in the first place, which is just wrong, but the point is, Hadrian doesn’t want him latching onto the soulbond out of any kind of obligation. He wants Orion to like him - and possibly even fall in love with him one day - for him. Just because it’s him.

(Just Harry. A sham of a childhood, too much blood on his hands, and a whole war down the road, and in the end, just Harry is still all he can really be.)

As for Hadrian himself, it’s not as if it’s hard to like Orion. He’s standoffish and cold to those who’ve bullied him in the past or those he’s wary of because he doesn’t know them, and that’s his right, borne from years of bearing the weight of Harry’s verbal abuse. But he’s also overwhelmingly, heartbreakingly devoted to Hadrian once Hadrian proves that his kindness is genuine, and isn’t that sad? A little bit of kindness - eating meals together, studying together, decent manners and a smile - and that was all it took because underneath the frigid exterior, there was just a boy desperate for somewhere to belong.

So Hadrian is fine with simply befriending him. Even if Orion never figures out they’re soulmates, even if they aren’t soulmates, Hadrian can be content with what he already has. It’s not like he’s in love with Orion at this point anyway, he’s never been in love with anyone so maybe theirs will be a platonic bond in the end. Orion deserves the world, and that may or may not include Hadrian in the long run, but in the meantime, Hadrian will be damned if he lets anyone continue treating Orion with one iota less of the respect he deserves.

4. Of course, life rarely works out the way anyone plans it, and Hadrian has always, always been Fate’s bitch. In the end, it’s his wristband that gives him away, which Hadrian should’ve predicted, because Orion is Sirius’ son, and just like Hadrian’s Sirius, he recognizes his namesake instantly the moment he spots it one day, when the two of them and the rest of their friends are out by the Lake, enjoying a summer afternoon after their last exams of the year. Even Hermione probably can’t identify constellations at a glance the way the Black house can.

Orion goes preternaturally still, half bent over to spread a towel on the grass. Hadrian is sprawled out on a towel of his own, bisected by the shade of some nearby trees, and he’s down to shorts and a shirt, for once foregoing his robes. The wristband stands out starkly, and nobody else is around, all of them splashing around in the water instead. Orion had just come back up for a break, and it takes even Hadrian - relaxed as he is - a few seconds to realize the air has grown tense around them.

“Orion, what-” He half sits up, ready to hex someone into oblivion, and then he follows Orion’s line of sight, only to freeze as well when he sees his own wristband.

A strained minute of silence follows, like a breath caught and held, waiting for the drop.

Orion is in his sixth year, seventeen already as of February. It’s not like he hasn’t already realized - probably as far back as fourth year if he’s honest - that there’s something really off about Hadrian. Prodigy he might be, but there are some things you can’t learn just by being smart or good with magic. Hadrian duels like he was born for war, as terrible as that sounds, but he’s been tutoring them in Defense for almost two years now, and he has the reflexes and muscle memory of a veteran Auror. Orion would know - he’s seen his dad and Uncle James duel before. And the things he knows - he can brew everything from Anti-Paralysis Potions to Blood-Replenishing Potions to Veritaserum and make it look easy, but he doesn’t know even the most basic of household charms that a magical child would’ve grown up around, had to be assured that faerie lights at Yule didn’t actually hurt the faeries, and just last year when he’d moved into Orion’s house for the summer, he’d spent whole afternoons sitting in the children’s section of their library, looking at Orion’s old picture books - with miniature characters that reenacted the story live like a play when you opened the book - like he’d never seen anything more amazing.

(Remus had just looked sad when Orion had quietly mentioned it out of Hadrian’s earshot. Sirius had disappeared into the duelling chamber and blown things up for a few hours.)

Of course, those were things Orion had observed over time, the details you only knew if you were Hadrian’s friend and took the time to get to know him. But even a stranger on the street could probably tell you something was up if they saw Hadrian and Harry standing side by side and you told them they weren’t related.

Black hair, green eyes, the same nose and jaw and knobbly knees. The only difference between them, physically speaking, were superficial - Harry was a little taller, Hadrian didn’t wear glasses, Harry had messier hair, Hadrian had scars that Orion hadn’t quite plucked up the courage yet to ask about.

Even Hadrian’s surname was suspicious. Evans? What are the odds that his family name would just so happen to be Aunt Lily’s maiden name?

But it was such a far-fetched idea, that they could be related at all, when - personality-wise - they were so wildly different. They were even the same age, so unless the Potters had secretly given away Harry’s twin at birth, there was just no way.

And yet.

Orion slowly sinks to the ground. He drags his eyes away from the wristband to check Hadrian’s expression, only to be met with guarded stone features and eerie Avada Kedavra eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just watches Orion in return, but saying nothing is an answer in itself, isn’t it?

Orion releases a long, careful breath, feeling like a single wrong word now might actually get him obliviated. He knows Hadrian has it in him, has a lot worse than a memory charm in him, but Orion has never worried that it might turn on him one day. That he thinks it now, that he can look at Hadrian and see the warrior staring back - it just means this is important, and Orion cannot mess this up.

It’s not like he’s never thought it before. Common sense and logic usually buried the clues and dismissed his what-ifs, but when he’s alone and awake at night and can’t sleep, and there’s really nothing better to do than think of Hadrian, sometimes, he does wonder.

And it’s starting to look a lot like he might’ve actually been right.

He inhales and exhales again, looks once more at the wristband - silver stars on a black night sky, for Merlin’s sake, it might as well be his name wrapped around Hadrian’s wrist - and then he meets Hadrian’s eyes again without flinching. “I’ve wanted you to be my soulmate since before fourth-year Yule, when we both said we’d go the Ball without a date, so it pretty much felt like we were going together.”

His ears burn red, but he keeps his chin up and his gaze steady, and he gets the pleasure of watching some of the ice recede from Hadrian’s face as his eyes go wide and his lips part with genuine surprise.

And then he blushes, and Orion stares, brain stalling, and all he can think is, oh, he’s pretty, which Sirius must never know.

“Bloody hell-” Hadrian mutters, slapping a hand to his forehead, and then a twitch of his fingers and a mumbled Muffliato fizzles up around them to give them some privacy. And then he drops his hand, looks around, and promptly rolls his eyes before dismissing it again with another wave.

“Come on,” Hadrian says as he rises to his feet, looking simultaneously fatalistically grim and recklessly determined. “I’m not talking about this here. We’re going to the Room of Requirement.”

He pauses though, teetering from the balls of his feet to his heels and back. And then he sticks out a hand towards Orion, and Orion feels almost clumsy as he lurches forward to take it, letting Hadrian haul him to his feet, easy as anything.

“Wait, are you really-” Orion stammers out, because holy fuck is he actually right, and he knows he shouldn’t talk about it here, and he sounds like some half-wit, but-

Hadrian heaves a sigh, and then he lifts their joined hands and uses his free one to peel back the wristband.

Orion stares. Orion Black, stamped out in the looping cursive of his handwriting, as blue as his eyes will ever be, stares boldly back at him.

“Come on,” Hadrian repeats, hiding the name - Orion’s name - away again and tugging at his hand. “I have some things to tell you, about- about who I am, and where I come from, and I’m not doing it here.”

Orion nods faintly, feeling dazed, but he follows when Hadrian moves, close enough to crowd him.

When Hadrian - Hadrian Evans, Harry Potter from another bloody universe - glances at him, as scared as Orion’s ever seen him, like this isn’t literally everything Orion has ever wished for, miraculously come true, and all Orion can do is press closer and clutch tighter at the hand in his.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever let go.

5. It’s a while later before everyone knows. Literally everyone - there’s a dimension-traveller in their midst, blessed by Fate and Magic, and nobody wants to mess with that, although there has been more than a few letters from the Unspeakables since they found out.

But before everyone, their friends and families find out first. Harry looks like he’s swallowed a lemon, but at least he keeps his mouth shut, for the time being, and for weeks, James and Lily go around looking equal parts shocked and awed and a little like they’re not quite sure how to treat Hadrian anymore.

Sirius and Remus don’t give a damn beyond listening closely to everything Hadrian decides to tell them. Orion’s father looks achingly relieved every time he sees Orion and Hadrian together, and his dad beams ecstatically every time he spots them holding hands. Sirius isn’t quite petty enough to flaunt it in front of James, and not quite mean enough to say it in front of Harry, but in the privacy of their home, Sirius calls Hadrian “my godson” a lot, and every single time, Hadrian protests, but his face also scrunches up a bit like he wants to cry. He also melts and pretends he doesn’t whenever Sirius ruffles his hair or pulls him into a hug. That’s probably half the reason why Sirius keeps doing it.

On his part, Orion doesn’t care if only he and Hadrian knows or if the whole world knows. He has Hadrian’s name on his wrist, even if it’s not the name he uses now, the name he’s embraced along with the life he’s made for himself here, and Hadrian has his, jumping an entire universe to meet Orion, but more than that, so much more, Orion has Hadrian, and it wouldn’t have mattered even if their names hadn’t matched, he would’ve loved him regardless.

Because here and now, he has the way Hadrian looks at him in the morning when they wake up, soft and lazily content. He has the way Hadrian trusts him to have his back in battle, and the way Hadrian turns to him first, always, finding him in a crowd or asking for his opinion or just to know he’s there. He has the way Hadrian calms when Orion wraps him in his arms after waking from nightmares, and even when he can’t fall back asleep, he learns he can depend on Orion to stay up with him.

He has the sight of Hadrian wearing the Black family engagement ring, offered the morning after Orion turns eighteen, pressed firmly into Hadrian’s hands because Orion’s feelings won’t ever change no matter how many years Hadrian gives him to reconsider.

“What if you’re not ready though?” Hadrian half-pleas, because this is somehow still something he worries about, that he’s taking advantage, that Orion will want someone less broken, less sad, carrying less baggage.

“I am,” Orion says steadily, because he has never been more sure of anything. “I’m ready. But maybe you aren’t yet, and that’s okay. I’m just making my intentions clear. But however long you need, I can wait. I will wait. I promise.”

Hadrian looks at him after that like he can’t believe Orion is real, and Orion will treasure it forever.

Two years later, he has his own engagement ring on his finger, secretly crafted and given to him when Hadrian - clear-eyed and confident - proposes at their favourite diner in the magical district of Rome. Orion can’t stop grinning all night.

#headcanon meme: answered #hp series #c'est la vie #soulmates au #hadrian evans #orion black #hadrian/orion #headcanon

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ask-the-clergy-bc · 4 years

Note

What would you think about headcanons for the papas realizing they're falling in love with someone close to them (i.e. an assistant, close friend, etc.)? Super specific, I know, but it was an idea I got super interested in on the fly lmao

I love this so much, it’s actually one of my favorite ways to look into their characters romantically!! Hope you enjoy this!

Also, I feel like it’s a given but I always want to point out that there will be very blatant power imbalances when it comes to the Assistant Reader and the Papas- simply from their place of power and titles. I can go back and add a tag to this if anyone needs!

Papas/Copia realizing they are falling for a reader who is close to them!

Papa Nihil:

Nihil has only experienced love like this only a handful of times (Don’t tell Sister!) Imperator was one of the strongest connections he ever felt, and the first time he was hit by true love. But over the decades their relationship was put in a strain. Especially when you came into his life. Originally you were part of a small group of Siblings who attended Nihil. But, eventually it became just you who turned to his personal assistant. Not just from his favor but you were the only one who could handle the workload and challenges of the job. Others just fell out of it and were dismissed. Plus, Sister Imperator saw great potential in you. Nihil started noticing his change in feelings toward you some time into your position as Grand Papa’s personal assistant. It was more comforting and easy going with you around.

Nihil wasn’t sure to laugh at himself or shake his head when you took your first vacation, leaving him with a sub par substitute. You being gone made him sad, lonely, and aching for your return. That’s when he knew he had it bad for you. You always made his day and you both communicated well. Not to mention that you shared so much in common. Papa Nihil felt he bonded with you in a way he hadn’t felt in years. And, he wasn’t about to let you get away! When you came back he did usher you away to a private place and confess his feelings to you. Being blunt and straight admitting that he couldn’t picture his life without you. Nihil gives you the chance to accept or decline of course, seeing as this could turn your professional life in the clergy upside down. You have no idea how pleased he is when you accept!

Papa I:

You had worked with Papa for years now. You wouldn’t call yourself one of his students, nor one of his personal secretaries. But you were always one of his go to Siblings of sin for rituals, under work, and various projects the Papa would assign. You had been there for everything between helping the man research, to gathering ritual supplies, and even attending his gardens. To Papa, you were a valued member of the flock and one of the hardest workers he had met in the Ministry. Honestly, it was no wonder to the man why he felt so fondly of you. Papa knew immediately he was attracted to you. At first it was a casual attraction, yes he found you attractive but he was more intrigued by your point of view and your mind. He longed to get to know you more. Papa is not one to beat around the bush, and quite bluntly asked if you wished to pursue anything more.

You accepted, even though you wanted to take things very slow. And Papa was happy to respect you. Your relationship was very platonic for a long time, and Papa valued your company more than anything. The more time spent together the stronger your relationship. For Papa, it was a welcome change to have a more friendly and deep companion than one that served to warm his bed. It didn’t surprise him the day he watched you work with his personal garden did he realize you meant the world to him. That no other person understood and loved him the way that you did. Papa smiled to himself and continued to work. When you asked him why he looked so content Papa was quick to say, “I believe you have stolen my heart.” It nearly made your own heart stop. This fierce, all powerful Antipope before you was humbled and proclaiming his love in the sweetest way. You couldn’t help but do the same for him!

Papa II:

Takes the longest to come to terms with his feelings and is the most stubborn about it. Namely because Papa is scared to death at the idea of truly catching feelings for someone. He’s had his days of endless lusting, infatuations- nothing more than casual flings or short term affairs. But to realize he’s falling for you? It’s not possible! You weren’t even in his inner circle… not at first. You were one of his older brother’s students. A promising user of witch craft that longed to master your dark arts with the eldest Emeritus brother. He met you when you assisted in a ritual that took place with all the Papas. At first he didn’t notice you, but seeing you talk to Papa I changed that… you were articulate, polite, thoughtful, intelligent, and best of all you were pleasing to look at. Papa thought highly of your potential, and you two slowly talked more and more.

He made his casual interest known and you reciprocated. What started as another casual affair turned into more than just the physical. Soon you both were having more dinners, more conversations. Hell there were times he summoned you just to have company and some wine. You were a delight to talk to, so much more deeper than some of his other lovers. Actually, you weren’t just another lover. To him you were like a very close friend with benefits- something he didn’t allow often. Papa did not open up to you at first, but the longer you spent time together the more he considered it. He found himself losing his guard with you and he despised the idea of being vulnerable. Papa denied himself of WANTING you to know him so intimately… but eventually had to confess. He wanted you for himself, as a real partner. A real lover in all senses of the word. Someone he could grow to give his whole self to. It took him a while to work the nerve up to inform you this, and you were all too happy to accept!

Papa III:

It took him a long time to realize how deep his feelings are for you- because you two have been close friends for years. Granted, you’ve rejected all of his casual advances for bedtime shenanigans, and he’s always respected that. Instead you two have gotten very close emotionally- something Papa genuinely doesn’t have with a lot of people. Besides Omega, and a few of his ghouls and brothers, Papa does not have a lot of genuine and true friends he can be himself around. His position of authority makes it hard in both rivalry and people wanting to use him. Not that he has a lack of bedmates or casual partying acquaintances. So he’s never thought to even think of you as anything more than one of his best friends and confidants…That is until he saw you flirt with someone for the first time. Now, Papa HAS been there to give you romantic advice and an ear when it comes to your personal life.

What person in the Clergy doesn’t have their bouts in romance? But he’s never actually SEEN you with anyone… and that just doesn’t feel right to him. He finds himself, dare he think, jealous? But why would he be- you’re his friend, he should be happy for you! After all you’ve made it clear that you didn’t want any casual one nights with him… but did he ever think to commit more? Papa broods on it for a long time of why he would suddenly feel so awful about the idea of you actually BEING with someone else- like having a serious commitment with someone. Why was he so JEALOUS? Then it hits him… he actually has feelings for you. The reason he didn��t understand before is that Papa rarely has deeper, intimate feelings for someone beyond lust or infatuation. And now, he’s understanding that maybe the reason he’s so eager for your company is more than mere friendship.

Papa IV/Cardinal Copia:

Copia had known for a very long time that he had fallen in love with you. You were one of the few people he trusted with his life- as true loyalty beyond his ghouls was genuine and rare. The Ministry is a cut throat and very dangerous place to be in the higher ranks, especially with him trying to start the new Bloodline. But you’ve been his personal assistant for years and the two of you had bonded immensely. He loved all your mannerisms, your kindness, your loyalty and duty to the Clergy. But Copia never made a move on you. Even though there is nothing saying he CAN’T have unprofessional relations with you (who in the Clergy DIDN’T regularly bed their co workers and assistants?) Copia never felt right about it. Mainly because he was afraid you didn’t see him that way and that, if you did get physical, it might ruin the bond you two had. So he stayed quiet about it for years and just admired you from his desk.

It’s not until he’s FINALLY Papa does he try to make a move and confess. Mainly because now he doesn’t have to worry about him being in such a precarious position. Copia can finally relax a little and enjoy his newfound position. You haven’t left this entire time, you’ve been there for him- Hell’s Gates, you’re STILL his assistant! Copia, even in his Papa paint, still seems so shy like a school boy about it. But he confesses his feelings to you without faltering. At first his heart sinks with rejection when he hears you bust out laughing. But this changes when you smile back sweetly and shake your head. “Finally- it took you long enough!” For you both, it was a new start to an already solid and unshakable relationship. You just had to be the patient one and let him come to you!

#the band ghost #ghost headcanons #ghost band #Ghost headcanon #reader insert #papa nihil #papa emeritus i #Papa Emeritus II #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia

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radbutsafe · 3 years

Note

ALL FUCKIN 35 OF THEM SKLNWESDJFPXO

I SHOULDVE EXPECTED THIS FROM YOU

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

A three! I think I’m mid range cause I ain’t terrible but there is still shit I gotta improve and grow in my writing

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

to manifest what canon won’t give me and to write more! (though yes it is mainly about the smooching and the— I’ll stop there LOL)

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

Hm! My weird research details? I’m that “fun fact, did you know...” in my fics sometimes LOL! I plan on giving a penthouse for erina in a fic and I went through penthouse listings in Japan for floor layouts and locations💀 my research gives me inspo and depth to stuff I think I lack in comparison to others sometimes.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

In terms of fellow fic writers, one of them I can’t name here but she’s an inspiration with her exceptional gift for prose period and her lovely skill at comedy! I want to be as funny as her when I write, I love her ironic situational humor. Other fic writers are @takoyakitenchou, @royaldragonsevgisi15 who I always love sharing ideas with and motivate me to create more! For non-fic writers it would be V.E. Schwab, Leigh Bardugo, Oda, and Horikoshi! The last two may be mangaka, however they are writers as well to create their stories! The depth these creators have given their worlds and interesting characters theyve given life to are all what I aspire to be like!

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

so far uh?? hm everything I’m currently writing are wips lol!! im proud of my wip that has been nicknamed ‘soma panics’ that is a multi-chapter fic that spans like probs 20 plus chapters maybe

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

dialogue! it’s so much fun! and character thoughts. I’ve said to people I may be better suited for script writing

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

I think it’s description, of like setting and showing action. also an expansion of my vocabulary LOL

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

erina! I think it’s because canon has shown us many of her different faces and range of emotion.

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

SOMA!! chill ass mofo whos more carefree compared to the common shonen protagonist! for other shokugeki characters I’m not sure just yet because I haven’t flexed my fingers enough for the rest of them.

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for?

I guess I should say romance cause that’s what I mostly write LOL!

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

sorina and I try to get them to smooch eventually KEK and yeah it’s..usually romantic fluff lmao

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

HONESTLY ALL OF THEM but “soma panics” is my brain child

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

pretty sure it’s digimon....

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for?

currently shokugeki no soma!!!!

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for?

uhhhh I guess SNS? LMAO fandoms...all have their quirks to them.

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

characters cuddling!!!! or getting the urge to smooch!!!!

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

unrequited love GOOD FUCKIN BYEEEEEE

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

I have plot ideas thst can be wild potentially but so far nothing fits this criteria so far that I actually have written.

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

depends on the fandom, but if written well, all of it!

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff?

shippy 100% like I said I like smoochin

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

romantic is...*drumroll* SORINA! platonic, soutaku and erina and alice!

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

Sometimes! There are times songs will be on loop and times I just shuffle a playlist. and if I’m writing in random bursts it’ll be with no music but it really does depend lmao I think music is when I’m forcing myself to write?

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

completely independent ideas, I’ve realized in the past prompts shoot me in the foot often unless I luckily figure something out. but I’m often driven by my own sporadic self interest with shitty ping ponging attention

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

multi-chap I guess cause I can post without being finished LOLLL but tbh can I really answer? I haven��t finished anything.....

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

I can’t answer this question imo because I haven’t finished a fic yet so technically stuff could all fit in the one fic?

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

MYSTERY AND CRIME! I love the genre and I have plot ideas once a blue moon but I can’t dive in because I want to make details that work and reduce plot holes where suspension of disbelief isn’t as needed. I need to study it more (I need to study all the details for any of my fics imo to be confident sometimes LOL)

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

I don’t think I can say one comment was the nicest because I’ve gotten comments that have given me quite the smiles to my face many times! I know this is a cop out but it’s true!

IS WHAT I WAS GONNA SAY UNTIL REINA SENT ME THE FOLLOWING ON DISCORD LIKE TWENTY MINS AGO:

and also rad. i am never this vocal about my emotions like EVER but this needs to be said your fics are obviously far from perfect, as are mine and everyone else's. but the thing about your works is that they're so well-sanded that it's impossible to find any rough edges or faults in them in terms of cohesion to a plot. your cast is never OOC and the amount of effort you devote to developing your takes on the characters as accurately as possible is unimaginably awe-inspiring.

BITCH I WANNA CRY 😭

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?

I’d like to believe I take it often well to try and improve because that’s always my goal. if someone is rude lol that’s not constructive snd is unhelpful. If I disagree with criticism I’ll explain why !

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

Not yet, but I have some plot ideas I think will let me test this.

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

F L U F F.

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

elliott fuji, a japanese-american award winning photographer who is erina’s boyfriend in ‘soma panics’ which..causes soma’s panic LOL he’s 30 with slightly wavy black hair. I still haven’t pinpointed his personality just yet...he kind of humble brags for sure an artsy fucker and flirts maybe I’ll make him a lil shy though. he teaches sometimes, and becomes an adjunct photography professor in Tokyo so he can be with erina.

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

a cook is unfashionably late in realizing his feelings.

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

I am a slow. so slow. motivation who is she? I also write out of order, unfortunately a bit too often.

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

this should be for the fic ‘soma panics’ it’s either megumi or satoshi talkin to him rn, I’m leaning towards satoshi

“You thought she would always wait for you, didn’t you Soma-kun? To always welcome you home.”

Soma drags his palms down his face and groans. He doesn’t like this at all. He doesn’t shy from confrontation but this is a whole different ballgame. Soma doesn’t play any ball.

“I guess..?” Is his reply, because he thinks he isn’t sure how to answer that.

“You guess?”

Just being questioned again is enough to crack Soma’s pathetic facade as if it was dropped chinaware and he lets out the longest sigh.

“No.”

Coming home means coming home to Nakiri Erina too.

Nakiri Erina is his forever.

this is @takoyakitenchou’s excerpt she’s most proud of that I’ve written, which is also from you guessed it, the long fic soma panics

SOMA: I am, I mean I will be, I swear I will always come home to you, not spend as much time abroad, once I’m done with work I’ll come right back. I’ll make sure to message you. Nakiri, I’m in love you with you. Maybe for a really long time. You know how I say I dedicate my food to you? My dad—my dad said that the key to become a good chef is to find someone to dedicate your cooking to. A special someone. For my dad it was my mom, you know? For me it’s...

(this is a good piece of dialogue tbh so I am also proud of this)

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

I’ve mentioned it throughout this but the WIP I’ve nicknamed ‘soma panics’ is something I’m super excited to write, but it’s going on slowly...and almost completely out of order. out of all of my writing it showed off that particular habit of mine, along with “what is this, a shoujo manga?!” though the latter is currently being written chronologically now that I’ve posted chapter one and is pretty solid in direction. it was originally supposed to be a one shot but I got impatient and wanted to post at least something for the sorina / soueri fandom.

however, because ‘soma panics’ (I won’t call it that LOL) is my baby I want to keep true to my rule of refusing to post it until I have a draft of the entire fic finished and I’m satisfied with the main points pretty much. due to my writing out of order, I’m worried I’ll change my mind about scenes or want to reflect things in earlier chapters for later ones etc etc

I joined the SnS fandom extremely late, as season five was airing. I was a fan of the manga five years ago and dropped it because I forgot to check for updates when I caught up 😔 I really want to bang out the different fics and aus for sorina that I have before the fandom fizzles out entirely but tbh I’m writing for myself, I’m manifesting what I want to see and I’ll just share it with all my friends to read if no one else will. cause I’m slow broski I dunno what writing fast even is like LMAO I do really want to write faster though, so I can contribute more and let the words free from the discord dms....

#ask meme #ask rad shit #writing #writing by rad #fanfic #reina girl u put me thru it I swear lol #thank u for sending!!#ur amazing!!!!

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evalieena · 3 years

Text

35 Questions for Fanfiction Writers

well since dearest @bachint asked, here goes nothing!

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

well if no downplaying’s allowed i guess i’d give it a 3/5? some mistakes since i’m not a native plus i”m still working on getting my english style better! i like what i come up with all the same, i’ve improved a lot these past two years, and my grammar isn’t that bad i guess?

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

to do what developers didn’t do in the first place to make good use of my imagination, to cope with the fact that some characters don’t exist and i will never follow another one of their adventures, to forget about a boring real life...

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

my writing doesn’t stand out lmaooo but i guess i’m always trying to focus on the character’s psychology, struggles and all that, so if someone likes my work, it’s ‘original’ bc it’s usually quite different from the usual stories where there are a lot of dialogues and interactions.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

i’ve been inspired a lot by @welcometogressenheller (i wish i could do as well as she does.....), @aceklaviergavin (kudos to you even if you never see that post and you probably don’t know who i am), and some others whose name i forgot (sorry!)

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

i didn’t write much but i guess that my latest fics are really nice (There’s No Light In You Anymore, and the whole Faith series on AO3). also my big project “Now That You’re Gone”, i’m glad i’ve been able to write that much for it and i intend on continuing as soon as i find the motivation!

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

pain, struggles and all that comes with it as long as it’s in the character’s mind, because beware here you step in a dark space

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

ordinary scenes of life? i always find my writing lacking as soon as i step out of my comfort zone, i’m all for rambling and never-ending pain

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

desmond/descole surely

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

all the good guys (and dimitri allen because i’d love writing about him but i’m? just unable to?)

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for?

that may come as a surprise! angst!

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

a mix of question 8 and 10 and you’ve got your answer

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

professor layton and the shattering secrets!!! i’m so happy of what this AU will look like when i’ll be done writing the following chapters, at first it probably looks annoying but heck i wanna promise anyone who’s reading it that the plot twists are gonna be worth it even though the overall background isn’t that original because i’ve mixed up different elements from other games (aaaand we’re back in our oh-so-amazing comfort zone that covers up a massive lack of imagination)

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

ummm? the vampire diaries maybe? back when i was 10 or 11 lol

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for?

hands up... pROFESsoR LayTON

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for?

i didn’t write for many fandoms but back in my younger days i used to do self-insert fics with the vampire diaries cast and it was so odd and i wish i hadn’t just confessed that on my tumblr blog

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

nothing that comes to mind

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

dunno either

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

PL and the shattering secrets! huge canon divergence and one heck of an AU (also its original version is much worse, my mind was going crazy when i was 15)

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

i love reading AUs, writing some requires solid imagination which i have not, but honestly i don’t really mind

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff?

gen

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

desmond sycamore x his wife / randall ascot x hershel layton (be it romantic or platonic) / randall ascot x basically anyone from the MM i guess though i didn’t write anything about that yet (it’s about to change guys)

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

yea i can’t write without listening to music - any playlist does the trick as long as i like what i’m listening to but usually i listen to sad soundtracks, or i’m inspired by some random lyrics

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

i’d go with challenges bc my horrible ass has very few ideas but i usually come up with independent ideas

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

one shots!

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

i don’t remember ;_;

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

i’ve got one OS in mind with randall/layton but i don’t want to be the talk of the town because it’s probably going to be awful? also any other fic including the PL3 crew

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

@welcometogressenheller telling me she believed i was a native!!! i struggle so much trying to improve my writing style in english and i have a lot of insecurities so it was so heartwarming and incredible to read...

also basically any other comment where people tell me they like what i write. i love that writers feel the need to take some time reviewing my works bc i need constant validation

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?

well i’ve never really received ‘harsh’ criticism or anything, save for some very rare remarks on my grammar so i guess i don’t know? at first it’s always sad to see that what i’ve done isn’t perfect but i guess it’s impossible to be perfect so i’m really happy that people take some time to underline what looks wrong to them

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

currently trying to with shattering secrets and it’s actually a great way to improve!

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

MERCILESS ANGST

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

i wish i could but it would perhaps be a huge spoiler so i don’t wanna say much about them...

i have 1) annabell sycamore, des’s wife, whose personality fits very much mine. she’s a playwright, spends lot of her time writing and acting in front of des AND WITH des. also she’s a very realistic person and some people usually tell her that she’s being too pessimistic

2) aurelia from the shattering secrets and on her i really cannot say much... if anyone’s read this far it would be so nice if you could give SS a shot by the way!!

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

desmond sometimes finds happiness but it’s always taken from him

(isn’t that a summary for everything i’ve ever written?)

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

i don’t translate my works from my original language to english, i write straight in english. i spend a lot of time making sure i haven’t done any grammatical mistakes, checking the definition and the use of some words i’m not sure about, and sometimes it’s quite a pain and it can be also very discouraging bc i end up believing what i write comes from a random internet dictionary while deep down i know it’s not true but hey what can i say. huge insecurities laid bare here.

(if any reader of mine’s reading this, i apologize)

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

(beware: spoilers for the whole prequel trilogy!!!)

“Hershel Layton was puzzled. A funny emotion to feel for someone who loved puzzles that much, but nothing could ever describe better the way he’d felt for hours now, hours that seemed like ages.So much did happen in the span of a few hours.

First he’d learned his parents could be targeted by Targent, then Aurora had made it clear that she didn’t want to live anymore, all so she could protect them. Then Desmond—no, Descole—had taken the key from her hands, and revealed himself as the dangerous scientist Layton knew him to be.

Then they’d fought. Despair was filling the air, though Hershel didn’t understand what Descole meant when he cried that the Azran legacy was all he had to live for.

And as if there hadn’t been enough betrayals as it was, Emmy was soon to follow. Luke had been abducted. He’d had no other choice than siding with Descole to prevent Bronev from unleashing doom on Earth. Misery didn’t seem to end.

Just when he’d thought he’d finally be able to change things, Descole had been ready to sacrifice himself to save Luke. And then…

Then everything just collapsed.

He held his agonizing brother in his arms; the one who’d wanted so hard to take him down only a few hours back was now confessing, fearing death was on the way.“

[...]

from ‘Six Times Hershel Layton Remembered, Plus The One Time He Didn’t’

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

oops i haven’t got anything more to say but thank you for reading? perhaps?

#asks #asks for fanfiction writers #eve rambles #professor layton fandom #how does umblr work #also sorry my english may be lacking #you know the meme sorry for my bad english don't you #well i'm that meme

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sydneysaldana · 4 years

Text

Would you read this?

I’m writing a book.

It’s about a young woman named Aleysia who is a lady in waiting for Princess Nora. At least that’s her official title. She’s also an assassin for the King. A weapon he utilizes to protect his family and, most importantly, his continued reign.

The kingdom is currently fighting and losing against the pariahs of society. This is the mainly the descendants of gods long forgotten who still have traces of their power lingering in their bloodline, the devoted worshippers who were blessed by the gods, and those who wish to protect them. The king hates that if they wanted it they could easily edge him out of the throne. And he justifies his thoughts by making other believe that he is what’s best for them.

However Aleysia’s best friend, the princess, does not agree with him. She hates the way her father rules people with fear and can’t wait take over the throne and make some changes. She also hates the way that Aleysia bows to every one of the king’s demands with no regard for others. She is appalled at the lack of humanity and compassion that only seems to surface when the king is around.

Convinced that helping the rebelling people is the right thing to do, Nora tries to convince Aleysia to join her. But unfortunately she doesn’t realize how deeply the king’s prejudices have been instilled in her friend. Aleysia, ever the faithful pet, rejects her and tell the king that she’s worried about his daughter’s priorities and her devotion to their faith.

Aleysia believes wholeheartedly in the King’s agenda. That the need to wipe the stain of these people from the kingdom justifies the horrible acts she commits for the sake of family and duty to her kingdom.

That is, until Nora is “accidentally” killed during a secret rebel meeting by the king’s men. Aleysia’s whole life is turned upside down and she has to decide what is most important to her. Fighting for her beliefs under a corrupt king. Or working with her sworn enemies to burn his whole rotten kingdom to the ground to avenge her friend and maybe, just maybe, learning that everything she was raised to believe isn’t as it seems.

Extra Tidbits

1) I plan to make this either a trilogy or a quadrilogy.

2) There will be an enemies to lovers romance.

3) There are many characters with fluid sexualities and are apart of the LGBTQ community.

4) The main character is morally grey and there is a lot of back and forth on wether or not she is fighting for the right side.

5)There is a big focus on platonic love and found family.

I have wanted to write a book for ages and have tried many times. This idea is one that came to me in the middle of history class and really started forming on its own. I would randomly get ideas for a scene I wanted to write or a bit or dialogue or even just knowing that a certain character loved to paint. After a few months I this I realized that I had characters and a basic idea of where I wanted my story to go. After so many years of trying to force a story out of me, having this one just sort of spring up in a semi-formed state was so liberating but also terrifying. Before I never really wrote anything bc I didn’t have many solid ideas. Now I do and there’s nothing stopping me. I think I’ll write it no matter what because it’s something I’ve always wanted to do, but I guess I’m just curious to know if people would actually be interested in these characters and their story.

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ya-wah · 3 years

Text

Analysis: Just Hold On -- Louis Tomlinson & Steve Aoki

So, I’ve been thinking of doing something like this for a while, because I really enjoy analyzing song lyrics and finding meaning in them for myself. I think all of the 1D boys are spectacular songwriters and especially Louis writes some of my favorite lyrics; there’s so much depth and richness in them and I’m really looking forward to taking a closer look at them! My plan is to work my way through his discography whenever I feel like analyzing something, and then hopefully start doing the other boys’ music as well.

Just Hold On is Louis’ very first solo single (and in my opinion one of his most underrated songs), so this is going to be my starting point. Obviously this is all just my personal interpretation and I’m not stating that any of this is a fact, but I still hope someone else can take something away from this as well!

So, Just Hold On is one of those songs that I never really consciously go back to, but whenever it comes on shuffle I always think to myself, “Wow, I really need to listen to this more.” Even though it is a very different sound than what we ended up getting on Walls, obviously also due to Steve Aoki being on the track, Just Hold On is definitely a solid first release from him, and I wouldn’t have been mad at all if he had continued in this EDM, dance track direction with his music. It suits him very well, plus this song is one of my favorite vocal performances from him, especially the chorus. I also really like that even though it is a more dance-y type of song and you would expect the focus to stay on the production, Louis still manages to sneak in some incredible songwriting.

(Just a little aside, I know the lyrics are generally attributed to Johannah dying, but he has said himself that that meaning just sort of happened later on and it wasn’t intended to be about that, which is why I’m going to leave that aspect aside in this interpretation. I’m not saying that he doesn’t want people to interpret the song that way, because he has definitely talked a lot about that double meaning himself, but I just don’t really feel comfortable talking about his mother in a context where he has said himself that he didn’t mean for the song to be taken that way.)

In general, the song has a very uplifting and comforting tone to it. The speaker is talking to someone who seems to be at a watershed in their life, saying “Hey, I know this is scary, but the things you’re worried about aren’t that important in the grand scheme of things. You’ll figure everything out and it’s gonna be okay.” For me personally, as someone who gets anxiety over the stupidest little things and is always fretting about making decisions and irrevocably messing things up somehow, this song feels very consolatory, and it’s a message that I definitely need to internalize and go back to more often.

Wish that you could build a time machine So you could see The things no one can see

This lyric could mean that the person the speaker is talking to in this song wants to go back in time to see the past, perhaps to find comfort in an earlier time where everything was easier and they didn’t have to worry about the things they do now. However, coupled with the “So you could see / The things no one can see”, it could actually (in my opinion more likely) refer to wishing you were able to go to the future, to see how everything is going to turn out, something obviously no one else can see, because it hasn’t happened yet. I can definitely relate to that -- I often find myself wishing that I was able to press fast-forward on my life and go to a utopian future where everything has already worked out for me, so I can skip the hard part of figuring things out and making mistakes, even though those things are essential to growing up and becoming your own person.

Feels like you're standing on the edge Looking at the stars And wishing you were them

The person being spoken to is standing on the edge, they’re at the cusp of something; perhaps they need to make a big, life-changing decision, or maybe something happened in their life that created a disruption of the status quo and now they don’t really know where to go from there. They look at the stars and wish they were them to be able to escape the uncertainty, another feeling I think a lot of people are able to relate to. Wishing you were a part of the stars, removed from all the hardships and hurt on earth, somewhere far away in the galaxy.

What do you do when a chapter ends? Do you close the book and never read it again?

Again, this lyric is referring to a turning point in the addressee’s life. When something happens to you or you make a decision that changes everything about your life (when a chapter of your life story ends, so to speak) what do you do with that? Do you go forward and never look back or do you continue to acknowledge the past, even if it might hurt?

Talking about closing the book after a chapter ends without specifying that it’s actually the last chapter of the book might also mean prematurely putting an aspect of your life behind you, when it might not be done yet. After all, who reads one chapter and closes the book? Even if it’s a chapter you don’t like, it just makes up a small part of the whole story and the best parts might be yet to come, however you won’t find that out unless you actually read the whole thing. Another interpretation could be that the person being spoken to thinks they’re done with their past, that they’ve closed that chapter of their life and have come to terms with it, when that’s not actually true and they still have a lot of work to do on themselves or on certain things they’re dealing with.

Where do you go when your story's done? You can be who you were or who you'll become

This one is pretty self-explanatory in my eyes. When your story is done, when you've closed a chapter of your life, you have the choice if you let your experiences shape you and make you grow as a person or if you cling to the past and want to go back to the way you and things around you used to be. I think it's important to note that even though the latter is generally regarded more negatively and seen as being stuck (even the way I just described it in the last sentence suggests that the correct decision would be to go forward and evolve) the lyrics don't issue any judgment. The choice is truly yours, if you want to become someone new and let yourself be changed, or if you want to stay the way you are now, and the speaker doesn't ascribe any moral value to one or the other.

Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, if it all goes wrong Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, darling just hold on

This is the most important part of the song, the part that Louis really wants the listener to take away from the song. It's repeated in the pre-chorus, the chorus and the post-chorus (going off of Genius here, I have no idea what these words mean lol), the song is named after this lyric, it's the phrase that turns up the most often.

It’s why I said this was a comforting song: yes, while there might be bad times in your life, times where you don't know where to go and feel like everything is going wrong and you would love to just give up, the speaker is telling you, the only thing you can do is hold on. You can apply that to a personal crisis, to your mental health, to a job, to creative struggles (I personally wouldn't really apply it to a romantic or platonic relationship, just because if everything in a relationship goes wrong the best thing to do is probably to let it end and not hold on). Again, an important point to make: if you hold on, there are no guarantees that it will actually get better, that life will become easier, but you still have to do it, because sometimes that's the only thing you can do.

The sun goes down and it comes back up The world it turns no matter what

This refers to what I said in the beginning about how none of the things that seem to be such giant obstacles and struggles in your life actually matter in the long term. The sun will still complete its cycle no matter what happens, the world will still keep turning. For some people, that might seem depressing; along the lines of “No matter what I do, it doesn't make a difference anyways”, but I think this... insignificance can also be comforting. You have all these issues and struggles that seem insurmountable right now, but when it comes down to it, you're just a small and insignificant part of history. For the tiny time span that humans have existed on this earth, for hundreds of years people have had to deal with similar things to you, very often with things that are much harder than what you're going through, so you'll be able to deal with this as well, no matter how daunting and scary it seems right now.

Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, if it all goes wrong Darling, just hold on Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, darling, just hold on Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh

It's not over 'til it's all been said It's not over 'til your dying breath

Again, really driving home the notion of the book not being over, of sticking around and holding on, even if it’s hard and even if you don’t want to anymore. There have been so many times in my life where I messed up really badly, or where something so terrible happened and it felt like the whole world would just stop and my life would be over right there. But it never was, and, like it’s being said here, until everything has been said and you have actually taken your last breath, your world will keep going.

So what do you want them to say when you're gone? That you gave up or that you kept going on?

While I have personally not given a lot of thought to this (yet), because I’m in a phase where I don’t even fully know who I am yet, I know a lot of people place great importance on how they’re going to be remembered. At the risk of sounding like a huge emo, it’s like the song Leave Out All the Rest by Linkin Park: “When my time comes / Forget the wrong that I've done / Help me leave behind some / Reasons to be missed”. We all want to be remembered, we want to be missed, and of course we want to be remembered as a good person who did good deeds and who never gave up, even if things got hard.

What do you do when a chapter ends? Do you close the book and never read it again? Where do you go when your story's done? You can be who you were or who you'll become Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, if it all goes wrong Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, darling just hold on

The sun goes down and it comes back up The world it turns no matter what Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, if it all goes wrong Darling, just hold on

Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh Darling, just hold on Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh If it all goes wrong Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh Darling just hold on

Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh If it all goes wrong, darling just hold on

(Lyrics are from AZLyrics.com.)

So, there’s not really much I can say to the rest of the lyrics, as they’re just repeating what I already talked about. I also want to add that while doing this I rewatched the music video, probably for the first time since it came out, and I have to say, it’s honestly not one of my favorite videos that he’s done. For one, he’s not even in it; I don’t understand the weird time travel thing they’ve got going on (I even checked the time zones for London, Las Vegas and Kuwait in the hopes to get a better perspective on the whole thing, but they don’t even match the numbers they showed on the screen lmao); and I also don’t really see any connection between the song and the video. The couple is cute though, and I like the theme of living in the moment and having fun without a care for the world, it does fit with the upbeat, dance-y nature of the track, even if it might not match the lyrics that well.

I guess this is it then! This was a lot of fun and I definitely gained an even deeper appreciation of Louis’ writing on this song. If you want to, you can let me know if you would have interpreted anything differently, or in what specific way the song resonates with you. Listen to it, if you haven’t done so in a while, and I hope I’ll be able to do Back To You soon as well!

#louis tomlinson #steve aoki #just hold on #song analysis #louis #mine

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azurethevampire · 4 years

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would you write an elrond from lotr fic with platonic reader? maybe she's his daughter or just someone living in the House? and she's bored but he's working so won't indulge her wishes to spend time with her. so she does something, perhaps like stealing some of his papers, which forces him to chase after her and, very uncharacteristically, tickle her to get the papers back??? and all reader can say is that at least she got to spend time with him!!! xx love your fics so much

Thank you!

Elrond x platonic!reader

Words: 1795

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Bored.

That's what you were. Letting out a sigh, your finger traced the edges of a book on your lap as you wondered how what was supposed to be a wonderful day had turned to a day of utter boredom for you. The excitement you had felt at breakfast was gone like yesterday.

You glanced at the elf seated at his desk, neck bent to look at the papers in front of him. You glared Elrond from under your eyebrows. Traitor!, you thought.

It had been a while since lord Elrond of Rivendell had spent time with you. You understood that he had a valley full of elves to run and as the head of the House, he had a lot of business to attend to. Of course, you understood. But understanding didn't change the fact that you missed him. You missed spending time with the elf who had been like a father to you ever since he had found you, a small elfling alone in the wood, almost eleven years ago. You missed the attention he had given you when you were younger. You craved for it.

So, when Elrond had told you at breakfast this morning that you'd spend the day with him, you had been over the moon with your excitement. The feeling had died when ‘spending the day’ turned out to be Elrond working and you left to your own devices. Sure, you were in the same room as him, but really, it wasn’t the same thing than to actually have the elf pay you attention other than tell you to “read a book or draw something” while he worked.

Raising up from the chair you had been slouched down for the past hour, you stretched your aching limbs and made your way to Elrond’s desk. Determined to get the Half-elven to at least talk you, you opened your mouth to ask, “Elrond,-”

“Whatever it is, it can wait a few more minutes, Y/N. Until I am finished with these”, Elrond cut you off, not even glancing up at you when he spoke the words.

What was probably a full minute, you couldn’t do anything but stare at him, mouth left slightly open as your mind tried to process the fact that Elrond had just interrupted you. While it wasn’t the first time - him or someone else often having to stop you from saying something that would, without doubt, get you in trouble - it was the first time since you could recall that he didn’t let you speak, working or not working.

You felt your blood rush to your ears as your irritation grew to anger. Narrowing your eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest and glared at the male. Who still didn’t look up at you. In fact, it was as if you weren’t there, standing a few feet away from him in seething anger, at all.

You watched as Elrond signed a paper and moved the signed piece to the pile of papers on his right, at the same time already reaching for a new paper from the pile on his left. You wished his pen would suddenly disappear so he could notice you too.

Then, suddenly, an idea struck to you.

A foolish idea, you had no problem admitting that, but taking your current irritation towards Elrond, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. It would be worth it. You felt a smile tug at the corners of your mouth as a mischievous spark thrilled up your body.

Stepping to your side, you made quick work of snatching the pile of papers from Elrond’s left. He looked up at, eyebrows furrowed as if to ask you if you were being serious. You were. More serious than you had possibly ever been in your still relatively young life.

“Y/N”, Elrond said, making your name sound like a reprimand in itself. “What do you think you are doing? Give those papers back to me and continue reading your book.”

While speaking, the elf reached out his hand towards you for the papers but you took a step back and held them out of his reach. You shook your head. “I don’t want to read anymore.”

Exasperation coming off of him in waves, Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose for a second muttering something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch. Then he reached out his hand again. “Give them back. Now, Y/N”, he ordered.

Now, if the situation had been any else than now, you probably would have given up your fight against him when he used that tone of voice at you. However, you thought and willed yourself for the upcoming battle of words, today was not like the other times.

“No”, you said and took a step then another back when Elrond - in quite a menacing way for someone who usually had such a gentle aura on them - stood from his seat and narrowed his eyes at you.

“Y/N-”, Elrond began to warn you, but this time you interrupted him.

“I said no, Elrond”, you said, a smile bordering on cheeky lightening your face. Waving the pile of papers in your hand you continued, “if you want these, come and get them!” With that last word you spun on your heels and took off from Elrond’s study. His holler of “Y/N!” could be heard after you before he took after you.

You were laughing, enjoying the thrill of escape buzzing inside you as you flew through the corridors in the house, passing people who seemed to halt in shock when they saw who it was chasing after you. You could hardly blame them for usually it was either the twins or Arwen running after you for this or that.

After a while, you hadn’t stopped but neither had Elrond if the angry yells of your name from behind were anything to judge by. Trying to push yourself even into a faster pace, you thought that you needed to find a place to hide soon, or the elf would catch you.

Too late to hide, you found out not a second later as an arm suddenly sneaked around you, effectively stopping your momentum and making you stumble backwards. You shrieked and almost dropped the pile of papers still in your other hand. Your back collided with a solid chest and another arm made to take the papers from you while the other held you tightly against Elrond.

Struggling against his hold, you reached out your hand as much as you could, trying to keep the papers out of his reach. “Enough, Y/N, you had your fill of amusement on my behalf, little one”, Elrond’s voice scolded next to your ear.

“No, I - didn’t”, you stated, taking a breath between your words before moving your hand - and Elrond’s papers - out of his reach again.

“Very well”, Elrond said, his voice suddenly eerily calculating, making shivers go up your spine. “You should do well to remember that you asked for this, then.”

You frowned. Asked him for what? All you wanted was for him to spend some time with you. You got your answer as suddenly, fingers dug to your sides making you immediately try to squirm away as giggles bubbled up from deep inside you.

“No! Elr-HOO- ond! STHOOP!” You laughed and without even realising, your hold of the papers loosened making the sheets scatter on the floor. With both of your hands now free, you tried to pry away from the merciless fingers that now went up and down both your sides.

You laughed so much that you felt water in your eyes. At first, you didn’t even notice he had ended his torture, his hands now resting on your sides to steady you. “Have you learnt not to steal from me again, hm?”

“Maybe”, you said, grinning, “maybe not.”

“AAH! Noo, pleeease!” you begged as a new fit of giggles and laughter overcame you when Elrond began to tickle you again. This time, the elf had changed tactics as his hand went up and down your arms and sides all the way up to your neck and under your chin. You tried your very best to wriggle away but his hold on you kept.

“Whait! I’m sor-sorrhy!”

“Ah but are you?” questioned Elrond, a smirk rarely seen now playing at his lips as well. “Allow me to make absolutely sure of that declamation”, he said and before you knew what was happening, he had you lifted up in his arms while his fingers once again dug to your sides. You tried to swat his hands away, laughing and curling as small as you possibly could while in someone’s arms. “I am! I am sorry! So sorry!” You reassured him quickly.

Chuckling, Elrond stopped the giggling and leaned down to press a kiss on your hairline. “I know you are, little one, I know you are.”

Catching your breath, you leant your head against Elrond’s shoulder for a moment as he lowered you back on your feet.

“Out of curiosity”, Elrond began, gently pushing you at arm’s length to gain a better view of your face. “How did you imagine this would end, Y/N?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t think the end, actually. I just wanted…” you trailed off, suddenly thinking that you had been childish with your actions and the reason behind them.

“Wanted what?” Elrond prompted, his voice gentle once again.

You let out a breath. “I only wanted you to spend time with me, Elrond. Time for real, not just us sitting in the same room without even having proper conversations with each other.”

Elrond pulled you into a hug then. For someone who seemingly saw everything, he could still sometimes be utterly blind to the needs of those closest to him.

“I am sorry, Y/N, that you felt that way. From now on I shall try my best to spend time with you - properly this time, this I promise to you.”

This time it was you who broke the embrace. “It’s alright, I know that you cannot spend every waking moment with me, but a night or two in a week would come a long way.”

Elrond chuckled again, reaching out to smooth your hair behind your ear. “Then that is exactly what we shall do.”

You smiled. Your idea had definitely been worth it.

“Now, pick up those papers you scattered all over the floor - and be careful not to tear them.”

Your face fell as you looked down on the many papers on the floor by your feet. Some of them had slid quite a way further from the two of you. Okay, maybe it hadn’t been worth-. No.

It had been worth it.

#lord of the rings #lotr #elrond #elrond x reader #ticklish!reader #platonic reader

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