#there's no silliness in the dynamics. there's so jokes between them or quirks or getting on eachother's nerves or w/e | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrsmaybank · 3 years

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Crushing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.”

A/N: I love baby genius, season one Reid so much. I wanted to give him a soulmate. Soulmate is you: shy and also a baby genius. Okay, thanks for reading. This was honestly just for me.

CW: Implied Smut, Mild Cursing, shitty writing

“Who...Who is that?” Dr. Spencer Reid, debatably the wordiest boy Derek Morgan had ever met, was suddenly at a loss for words. Maybe it was your perfectly sculpted face, your shoes, the copy of The Kreutzer Sonata held to your chest, your chest, or maybe a mix of it all. Whatever it was, at sight of you walking through the office doors, he was stripped of his ability to speak.

“That’s JJ’s new intern.” Morgan said plainly, before noticing the completely enamored look on his friend’s face. “What, pretty boy?” Reid couldn’t even be bothered to reply. He was too busy studying every detail of your frame.

“You think she’s cute or something kid?” Morgan playfully jabbed his shoulder, Spencer’s face instantly flushing an embarrassing shade of red.

“What?!” He shrieked, “I-no! That’s not..No!” That’s a lie.

“I just..I didn’t know JJ was getting an intern.” That though, was true.

“She’s supposed to be pretty impressive. Let’s go meet her.” he started in the direction of the coffee stand, where you and JJ had begun chatting. Before Spencer could protest out of his shyness, he was being dragged along.

“Morgan,” JJ smiled, “Spence,” she nodded in his direction, “This is Y/N Y/L/N. My godsent savior.” JJ beamed in your direction.

You smiled more sheepishly then you would’ve liked, muttering a “Hopefully.” that got a laugh from Morgan and a “Oh, please.” from JJ, but nothing from the man in the glasses. You did your best not to read into it.

“Derek Morgan.” the muscular agent extended his hand to shake yours, an offer you timidly but happily accepted.

The taller, lankier, younger, incredibly cute man next to him stuffed one of his hands in his pocket and shifted uncomfortably with a small wave, “I’m uh, Doctor Spencer Reid, oh! Uh, you don’t have to, uh call me Doctor. No..” He shook his head, “Just Spencer is fine.” He looked at you with wide eyes that sent butterflies berserk in your stomach and swiped his tongue in between his lips that only made them go crazier. JJ had told you all about the team. About the magnificently brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid, his 3 PhDs and eidetic memory, and all the other quirks you’d have to know in order to work with him, but had failed to mention how utterly hot he was. You felt a crush hijacking your system already. Dear god.

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Your hands gripped your book tighter as you shifted onto your tiptoes, “I’ve heard really exceptional things.”

The conversation was set to continue, but Morgan and JJ were summoned by Hotch to the closed doors of his office. Leaving the resident genius and you starting at each other with tight lip smiles.

Spencer started first, “The Kreutzer Sonata is great.” He excitedly continued, “It uh, it actually used to be a pretty bold book to carry around. After the work had been forbidden in Russia by censors, there was actually a mimeographed version that was widely circulated. Then in 1890, the United States Post Office Department prohibited the mailing of newspapers containing serialized installments of it too. Theodore Roosevelt even called Tolstoy a-”

His enthusiasm was beyond endearing. You finished for him with a soft smile, "Sexual moral pervert.”

Spencer’s lips upturned in a smile. It was rare somebody in the office could finish his sentences. And he couldn’t help but replay the crass words being said in your soft voice. He felt a crush hijacking his system already. Dear god.

“Most people don’t recognize it in the original Russian.” Spencer heard you say.

“Most people probably wouldn’t recognize it in English.” he retorted.

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re right.”

Spencer wasn’t even kidding. “I’m not joking.” He shook his head. “It’s unfortunate how many people aren’t even vaguely familiar with Tolstoy.”

“It is.” you agreed. “You went to Caltech, correct?”

He smiled, “Yes.”

“I almost did too. Decided last minute on Columbia.”

“You went to Columbia?” he asked.

“I just graduated.”

“How old are you?” he asked before quickly correcting himself, “I’m sorry! That was forward! I am not...I’m not trying to undermine your studies with your age, I promise. I’m just curious.”

“No! It’s okay!” You got out fast. “I’m 19. I graduated high school a little bit early.”

“Me too.” He smiled. “12, actually.”

Your eyes went wide, “12?”

“Yes, um, in a Las Vegas public high school.” He winced, but the self-deprecation somehow came out charming, “I uh,” His eyes narrowed, “didn’t go to a lot of parties.”

That made you wholeheartedly laugh. “Me neither! I graduated at 15, which you know is the age everybody else starts. It created a really weird dynamic because the older kids in my grade didn’t like me, but the underclassmen my age really didn’t like me.”

Instead of the laugh you were expecting, Spencer just gave you a pensive stare.

“Um..I can’t see why. I think you’re very likeable.” The compliment would’ve been strange exchanged by anybody other than Spencer to you.

“Wait till you get to know me.” You said it through a smile but so softly you were afraid he might not be able to hear it, but he did.

And that was confirmed when he flashed you the most incredible, toothy grin you’d ever seen. “I uh, I doubt there will be any change in opinion.”

“Well, um, I’m sure- I think! You’re very likeable as well Dr. Reid.” you said.

“That’s what you say now.” He retorted in the same coy tone you had earlier.

You shook your head, “You’ll find I can be insufferably stubborn.”

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

After two weeks, there was little Spencer could do to hide his massive crush affinity for you from the team.

In the bullpen:

You guys had locked eyes and were mouthing out exchanged of No’s and Yes’s from across the room. There was an ongoing half-serious dispute about whether or not Xanthippe slept with Plato.

Morgan glided in his wheeled chair to whisper into Spencer’s ear.

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.” He said, shoving files into the cabinet below Reid’s desk.

“I’m..I’m not.. I--what? Bedr--No!” Reid whisper-shouted back.

On the jet:

“Reid?” Gideon called Spencer, “Chess?” He motioned towards the board.

“Yes, sure. Just give me a second. I’m almost done. I’m reading Infinite Jest. I don’t usually enjoy literature if it isn’t classic, even less so if it’s American. But..” Spencer smiled, “Y/N likes the author.” He continued his fast-paced reading of the third-to-last chapter of the book.

Morgan and Gideon exchanged glances.

Even in front of you:

You opened a sugar packet and began stirring.

“De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium is still some of the best work on heliocentric theory out there, I think. Copernicus knew what he was talking about!” You spun on your heels to see Reid’s face contorted in disagreement. You giggled, “Don’t give me that face! I’m right!”

He took a sip of his coffee as to keep himself quiet. “Listen, cosmological theory is for…”

But the pair of you were interrupted, it was Elle, standing behind you and in front of Spencer.

“New skirt?” Elle asked as you turned, back now facing Reid. She was pouring herself a cup of coffee too.

“Yes!” You excitedly nodded. “You like it?”

Elle looked up and down, but not at you. The judgmental eyes were for the man behind you. She pursed her lips, “Not just me.”

The only face redder than yours was Reid’s.

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

Nights spent in a bar after a case that had dragged on far too long was nothing new, but the energy tonight was especially light. Gideon had refused, but everybody else was just relaxed, even Hotch, and the team just got happier at each other's happiness. It was great, really. As Hotch and Morgan sipped on whiskey, JJ and Penelope had already downed four sugary, colorful cocktails and were in a whispered fit of giggles. Elle and Spencer settled on a tamer option of an IPA Spencer couldn’t name.

“SPENCER!” Penelope excitedly shouted, “Y/N is literally you! You’re both adorable! You’re both geniuses! You’re both young!” She drew on her rant, “And if you have a crush on her you should just tell her!” JJ’s eyes widened in embarrassment as she tried to cover Penelope’s mouth.

Morgan and Elle erupted in soft laughter while Hotch cracked an uncharacteristically amused smile.

“Spence, I swear, I didn’t say that! I just...I may have mentioned how happy you get every time she’s around! And how you guys can talk for literally hours!” JJ defended, her words slurring in silly drunkenness.

Spencer rolled his eyes. This wasn’t the first time they teased him about you, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time either.

“I don’t have a crush on her! We just….we like the same things! It gives us a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah?” Morgan said through a laugh, “And what is it that boy and girl wonder talk about so much?”

“Well, uh.. a lot of things. But I find she gets the most excited when we are discussing the theories of postmodernism, in that apparent realities are actually just social constructs and veritable realities are subject to change, and uh... we like to talk about linguistics….political philosophy….history... mathematic theory...and uh, oh! Doctor Who.”

Spencer was blushing and spoke about you like a teenage girl did their boyband crush, and the team noticed. They didn’t even need to say it out loud. Spencer gathered from the way they looked back at him.

“I heard she lent you a book too, Reid.” Hotch said before taking a sip from his glass.

“Yes! She did!” He smiled, “It was her copy of Pale Fire. She has an impressive collection of 19th century Russian literature. All in its original dialect! Some of it’s even annotated, which usually would annoy me but since it’s her thoughts and notes I sort of find it endearing.”

“Dr. Reid is endeared!” Greenaway shrieked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pushing his glasses up a little higher on his nose, “I find her incredibly endearing.”

“Y’all that sounded like a dorky love confession.” Morgan said as the team erupted in laughter and Reid’s head fell in a smile. There was no point in denying it anymore: He really, really liked you.

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

Within two months, you and Spencer had finally put your shyness aside, and spent a very lovely evening at watching an orchestra at the Smithsonian Music, and sharing noodles at your favorite Thai restaurant. And then you guys spent some time on your couch. And then in your bed. And then in the shower. And then in the kitchen. You were both very sexually frustrated.

For the following two months, as soon as you both stepped out of the office, it was very, very hard to keep your hands off each other. Could either of you help it though? Teenage geniuses don’t experience parties, or football games, or clumsy sex. The time was perfect to make up for it.

And you guys did. The sex part at least. “Football involves a lot of dirt. And germs. And sweat.”

“Oh my god!” you shrieked. His hands were in a place they found themselves more and more often: Your pants.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, continuing his pattern of small circles on that particular bundle of nerves.

“It feels great.” You nodded.

“I uh, I’ve been researching the female anatomy.”

You closed your eyes and nodded your head, but trying to focus on your boyfriends newfound intellect. “It’s fascinating, isn’t it?”

He watched your undoing with boyish adoration and curiosity before swallowing, “Very.”

“Oh fuck!” Your legs began to shake, “Spencee...I’m gonn--”

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

You and Spencer just understood each other.

#drspencerreid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #criminalminds #reid criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #Spencerreid #spencer reid reader insert #spencer x y/n #reid x reader #spencer reid #professor reid x reader #professor reid #season1 reid

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food-in-your-mitch · 3 years

Note

People have historically given Link a harder time in the comments sections, uncharitably speculating about his sexuality or calling him girlish in a time when his thinking was less nuanced and being compared to Velma Dinkley was a flat out insult (Nowadays I think 'looks-up-lesbian-fashion Link' might be more inclined to take this as a compliment).

Doesn't help that Rhett was also always ready to quirk his brow at Link's 'quare'ness, to give him the stern 'boundaries, bro' etc. most likely cause of his own insecurities making Link a convenient lightning rod for that judgement. Partly because of his (endearing and probably very flustering to Rhett) moments of non self consciousness, and also because they both grew around each other and use each other as points of reference (you're my whole world bro). They're Rhett and Link, the ______one and the _____ one.

So Link experiences himself as the Boy to Rhett's Business Man, leans into it for laughs, reads his storybook lines in a high pitched voice, all to be 'in' on the joke, before he can be the butt of it. Rhett 'gets to' be Dr. McLaughlin and maybe this perception of their dynamic makes it easier for him to digest the concept. Maybe he gets comfortable with the idea sooner even though it involves playing their comedic version of playing 'house' in a way where he's perpetually relegated to Big Spoon without much room for exploration (except when Rule of Funny calls for it because haha height difference).

We know from the time they dressed as each other Link is definitely affected by this 'I'm gonna act like you're weird' thing even though Rhett has drastically changed in terms of his attitude towards masculinity and proximity, is more able to articulate and ask for affection, albeit clumsily, due to therapy, etc. Link fundamentally is troubled by changes in dynamic and the 'rules' they have set up between them, especially spontaneous or unpredictable situations that could lead to him feeling like the butt of a joke. He frequently alludes to not wanting to feel like a loser, a lesser partner or in any way diminished in their duo.

Vulnerability in these scenarios has historically led to Link getting laughed at on the Internet for having a face journey after the Newsicals kiss, and although not all of those reactions were bad intentioned, when you struggle with anxiety it can feel like you're being made fun of, and traitorous thoughts surface of "My not usually touchy friend who I'm comfortable with and knows all my boundaries is touching me a LOT and he looks VERY comfortable am I getting anti-Cap bait and switched here? If I lean into this will he guffaw and will the rug be pulled out from under me?" And maybe "My friend who I like but people say I more than like and who I maybe sorta do more than like is really comfy, how do I play this? Too comfortable and I run the risk of another incriminating face journey, too uncomfortable and I fail at this challenge and I'm Professional Loser Link"

Rhett is bad with words and cannot seem to communicate enough how ready he is for Link to forget about all that and move the 3 extra inches so he can nuzzle him in his arms and make up for lost time. As buds, of course.

“Am I getting anti-Cap bait and switched here? If I lean into this will he guffaw and will the rug be pulled out from under me?”

That’s a wonderful point, anon. This whole thing was one big perfect point. And as an outsider looking in on their relationship, it seems to me like a pretty solid analysis of Link’s thought process. I mean, I’d be nervous to cuddle too if I were in his shoes. What’s a prank by the writers to make Link look silly and what’s Rhett genuinely wanting to physically connect?

Is it even safe to physically connect in such a public space? What will people think if they both look comfortable in each other’s arms? What will they themselves think if they find that sort physical closeness and connection comes easily?

#thank you anon for your wonderful analysis #ask #rhink #speculation

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 4 years

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COSMIC - S3:E1; Chapter One, Suzie, Do You Copy? - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Summer brings new jobs and budding romance. But the mood shifts when Dustin’s radio picks up a Russian broadcast, and Will senses something is wrong.

A/n: Honestly this entire episode is gonna be fluff. I sprinkled a whole bunch of Y/n and Lucas brotp cause y'all loved it so much and honestly I love writing it. Lots of roasting each other this chapter. Also the Mike and Y/n dynamic after season 2 will be explained more as the season progresses. Enjoy!

||3rd Person POV||

The faint sound of crickets could barely be heard over the soft music of The Power of Love by Huey Lewis and The News plays from inside Castle Byers. Soft yellow light spills out from the cracks and slits of the castle from the battery-powered lamp where the young couple sat planning a campaign. It was clear that both had done a great deal of growing over the summer, just as their friends had. Will most of all, as he sat now in Castle Byers, he did so with a slightest of hunches seeing as he had sprouted tremendously in height. His shoulders had broadened a bit, and his voice had lowered as much had he had grown.

As for Y/n, the changes in her were more internal than external. Like Will, her physique had changed though not quite as drastically. Her features were far more defined than they had been in previous years, but the biggest change within her was how she held herself. The months since that dreadful night at the cabin, she had dedicated every spare moment to learning about herself... About her powers.

And now more than ever, she was one with her abilities. With help from El and the overwhelming support from Will, she exuded a whole new level of strength and confidence in herself. Something that set her apart from her previous attempts in secret the year before. Now with help, she thrived.

"The power of love is a curious thing

Make a one man weep, make another man sing"

"So what if, when they enter the tomb of Kuzatan - the villagers being in danger I'm sure would give them no way to cheat their way out - and then they..." her voice trails off, getting lost in the notes that seep into the air. She quirks a brow at the boy before her. "Will, hon? You listening?"

"Mmm?" Will hummed, torn suddenly from his blissful gaze.

Having been caught staring at Y/n, she realized he had missed the question. She laughed, shaking her head. Butterflies erupted in Will's stomach at the sound, and he realized he may never grow tired of it. He still couldn't believe his luck that she was dating him.

The corners of his lips tugged into a small grin as he mumbled a 'sorry'. Y/n simpered, trying to shake off the dizziness in her head that always appeared when he made her heart flutter.

She returned to her notes, and he lovingly watched her speak. His eyes would occasionally fall to her lips but he was drawn back to her eyes and the concentration they possessed. All the while the sappy lyrics spilling their way into his subconscious as he listened.

"Don't need money, don't take fame

Don't need no credit card to ride this train"

Just two years ago, the thought of her liking him was a myth in his eyes. Her ever noticing him as more than a friend was a sickly sweet dream that would never see the light of day.

"It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes"

And last year, with the Mind Flayer... He hated the thoughts he had, the feelings he felt when the Mind Flayer took over. The hate and disgust that crept up whenever she was around but he fought it. Though he could never forget the look on her face when the Mind Flayer attacked her.

"But it might just save your life

That's the power of love"

But now. They were happy. She saved him, and after his recovery, they were finally together.

"Will!" She laughed sharply, reaching over and swatting him lightly on the arm with her notebook.

Will was pulled from his daze yet again, no longer trying to hide the happiness and bliss he felt.

She smiled fondly and shook her head, placing her arm on his shoulder and pulled him in for a kiss. The music playing from the radio she had gifted to him a year before swelled as their lips met in a tender kiss.

"That's the power of love,"

After several moments their lips break apart but their foreheads remained glued together. A light laugh breaks out between them, escaping through the blinding grins carved into their faces. Her eyes travel from the ground to meet with his, only to find he had already been staring at her with the same lovesick gaze. It brings the same storm of butterflies in her stomach and sporadic beating of her heart.

Neither Will nor Y/n could recall a time either of them felt this happy.

Y/n's gaze flickers back to Will's lips. She flashes a warm grin and gives him one last and swift peck on the lips before sitting back up. She tucks her notes father into her lap and that is when she catches sight of the time displayed on her watch.

"Shit,"

Immediately, Will's mood shifts.

"What? What's wrong?"

Her eyes find his and she quirks a brow, her hands already collecting their campaign papers and stowing them away in a safe place.

"We're gonna be late."

Out of reflex, Will checks his watch. His eyes widen in a brief flicker before gathering his things, though his movements are not as hasty as hers. He gathers his campaign papers, his eyes glazing over several notes he had made. The smallest bud of unease blooms in his stomach.

"You really think they'll like this campaign?" He asks, his gleeful composure fading for the first time since her visit.

The ache in his voice captures her attention, and quickly she drops what she's doing. She immediately recognizes the uncertainty in his features and feels a tug on her heart. A sad smile graces her face, and she drops her folder before leaning forward and cupping his face in her palms forcing him to look at her. His wide hazel eyes search hers finding nothing but love and comfort in them.

"They're gonna love it, Will. Cause, it came from you. Remember, " she smirks when his smile begins to return. "I'm just helping out."

Before he can protest she brings his face forward with a small hum, planting a kiss on his nose with a dramatic smack of her lips. His face erupts into a violent shade of scarlet against his wishes. After all this time, Y/n still managed to have this effect on him. She begins to lean away when she knows she's cheered him up, but before she can escape he captures her in another sweet kiss. He can faintly make out the f/f Slurpee that lingered from earlier that day. She hums contently and it blends perfectly with the drumming of his heart. He can feel his cheeks grow hot not just from his fluster but the feel of her palms growing warm against his skin.

Like Y/n's laugh, her warmth was something he was certain he would never tire of. It was something he had always seen in her, but after her powers had been discovered, it was only more obvious. Her touch always reminded him of the sun streaming in through the window on a chilly morning; a toasty blanket of light that hit your face just right. And he felt it now on his face as she kissed him. Although it was cut far too short in Will's opinion as she broke apart for air. Her thumb softly strokes his cheek, the pads of her fingers and palm still warm to the touch as sends him one more reassuring smile.

"And even if they don't," she continues, a spark of mischief in her eyes. "I'll blast 'em for ya."

Will chuckles, bringing his hand up to cup hers in thanks, nevermind the fact he didn't want her to let go quite yet. Alas, yet another moment lost to time. Her warm palms leave his face and immediately he feels colder, but he also knows they don't want to miss the movie. He smiles to himself as he packs up the remainder of his things as he thinks about it. His hands were almost always cold, a trait he had long before the Mind Flayer. And had it not been for her powers, Y/n might have been the same. It was yet another reason they fit so well together.

The crunch of a very small twig beneath Y/n's sneakers bring him back to reality for the third time. He looks up at Y/n to find her balanced on her tiptoes, legs folded ready to stand and she extends her palm for him to take.

"Come on, Sir Will," she says through a coy smile, her head gesturing behind her towards the cloaked entrance to the castle. "Starcourt awaits."

He brings himself to his knees to match her, ready to stand and duck outside into the night when he takes her hand. His thumb grazes her knuckles before planting a quick kiss on them, bringing a natural heat to her neck and face.

His face quickly contorts into a feigned expression of seriousness, all while dawning a fleeting and silly attitude as he waves his finger in the air. The way he always did as Will the Wise during campaigns.

"Then what are we waiting for, Y/C/N? Let us make haste!"

Will watches triumphantly as her lips press into a firm line that begins to twitch, the tell-tale signs she was fighting a losing battle with a grin as she shook her head. Y/n had yet to get used to this side of Will, though she did enjoy it. Since their time at the Snowball he had been far more relaxed. To the point where he would be cracking jokes, or surprising her with romantic gestures as such. It rarely came out like this, and when it did it was never around the others. It was something she wished they could see, but Y/n couldn't help the flutter of her heart knowing she was the only one to bring it out in him. She looks down at his soft gaze and humor in his eyes, before rolling her own, rising to her feet, and ducking out through the curtain door to avoid being caught with a smile.

"Dork," she laughs, her knuckles tingling from the unexpected gesture.

She hears his soft chuckles from behind her before he joins her side, and the couple falls into a comfortable silence as they grab their bikes off the forest floor and ride off into the night to the infamous Starcourt Mall.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

An excited grin finds Y/n's lips as the stunning neon lights of the mall come into view like a rather large homing beacon. Since its opening towards the beginning of the year, it had been flooded with people as it was now. And it was often frequented by the party as it quickly became their favorite hangout - besides Mike's basement of course - and it was on nights such as this they'd meet for a movie.

The giddiness in Y/n bubbled intensely when the welcoming aroma of salted pretzels and Hot Dog on a Stick mixed somehow perfectly with the scent of freshly-ironed linen and various perfumes, assailed her senses. It was the smell of the mall, the smell of summer, and the smell she often associated with many of her movie dates with Will. A favorite of theirs, which they had only seem a mere two weeks prior, was a newer film called The Goonies.

The rag-tag group of kids reminded them both of their own group, particularly the plucky and lovable Chunk who wistfully reminded Y/n of her brother who was currently away at camp. And Mikey, of course, the one to step up when everything went south reminded them both of their own Mike. And something about the kid on screen gave him a familiar and bittersweet feeling that tugged at his heart. Weirdly, he reminded Will of Bob and it made him smile a bit. Like he got to see him again.

The following week, the young couple dragged their friends to see it, assuring they'd love the film which they of course did. They only wished Dustin could make it there with them, but it was quickly decided they would a day of it when he got back. They certainly knew they wouldn't mind seeing it a third time, not if they got to see Dustin's reaction. Everyone back together again. Though Y/n and Will wouldn't miss the absence of teasing and/or disgusted remarks from Dustin on their relationship, that was for sure.

The pair slide their bikes into the bike rack before dismounting, and Will looks around a bit confused, his eyes flickering to his watch.

"Did we miss them?"

His worry melted when he saw her perfectly blissful composure, a soft smile playing her lips after checking her watch.

"Nope," she chirped, walking forward and taking his hand in hers walking him to the door.

"But the movie? You said it starts at eight," he asks, walking alongside her as his hand is tethered to hers. "It's eight twenty-five."

Y/n caught the closing glass door with her one free hand and the two slipped inside after the small group ahead of them, all the while her content never seemed to waver. She stopped suddenly and the crowd of people coming through the doorway flooded in around them, but his confused stare remained fixed on her as her wide eyes took in the exuberant sight before them. He could see the neon dancing in her e/c eyes as she looked to him smiling mischievously - and proudly at herself - as she pointed to the sign beside the door. His attention flickers to the bulletin board erected near the entrance. In a clear display of various showtimes, just under Return to Oz at eight-thirty was Day of the Dead at nine.

"I said the plan was to get here at eight," she smirked. "not that the movie started at eight. This way, you and I can swing by Scoops Ahoy, or whatever really, before the others get here."

"And they get here at..?" His growing excitement written on his face betrayed the hesitation in his voice.

She deflated a bit as she shrugged.

"Eight forty-five. Which gives us only twenty minutes, or so. I was hoping for more, but..." she trailed off with a smile, and gently poked his arm with her elbow, her hand still intertwined with his. "planning that campaign was fun."

A weak chuckle breaks loose, and he blushes under her gentle stare. Yet again Will wonders how he found himself with her, what he did to deserve her company. Almost as if sensing his thoughts, she shook her head wistfully, shutting down the thoughts before breaking out into a small jog towards the escalators.

"Come on," she laughed, pulling him along. "We don't have all summer!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The two emerged from Flash Studios with giddy laughter and stomachs coated with their favorite snacks from their previous visit to the food court. They smile down at the glossy photos they each possess, pointing out their favorite traits of the portraits they had just taken. Four photos of them - each in a more bright and colorful wardrobe than the previous - as they struck silly poses and crazy faces. All but one; which reminded Will of an even better version of the old science fair photo he had not-so-secretly admired for years.

Y/n wore an elated grin, but her eyes had closed. Her arm wrapped around Will as he planted a kiss on her cheek - the unexpected gesture being what prompted her eyes to flutter closed. All the while, the hand that had snuck around his back could be seen poking out from behind his head creating bunny ears.

The others were of equal quality, each with their own charms and unique mannerisms. Particularly the one of them back to back, arms folded and a silly feigned smolder but the bunny ears remained their favorite. It was a visual representation of their relationship and how far they had come.

Y/n slips her copy back into the thin plastic sleeve before dropping it at her side, the small handle hole dangling loosely from her curled fingers as she looks to Will. He is still admiring the photos in his hand and the look on his face - the happiness carved deep within his features - made her heart swell. He had been through such a great ordeal, more than any of them could ever possibly know - aside from El of course, who knew the heavy weight of trauma all too well. But now, in these moments together, and much like the ones back in Castle Byers, he seemed truly happy.

'He deserves it,' she thought to herself.

The two of them made sense together, and not because Will had carried a torch for her for so long, but because of the little things. The way they made each other laugh, the way they brightened each other's day. The way one spat between them, no matter how big, was never enough to break them but make them stronger.

It was because they were best friends.

Against her desires, Y/n broke her gaze away from Will and to the clock hanging over the fountain near the main entrance. The blue and yellow hands read eight thirty-eight. She deflated a bit, and nudged Will with her elbow.

"Well, the other's should be getting here any minute," she sighed, and he turned to look at her. "So I guess we should head back to the entrance."

Will nodded, already tucking the now sleeved photographs into his backpack before slipping it over his shoulder. Together, the two of them make their way back. Their footsteps have grown slower in the subconscious efforts of prolonging their alone time together. Will throws a glance Y/n's way as they walk, a tired smile fixed on his lips.

"What do you wanna bet we'll be waiting even longer for Mike?"

She now understands his subtle shift in demeanor, and it spreads to her as she lets out a flattened chuckle. She understands exactly what he is talking about. While she initially was very happy for her friends, Y/n was not immune to the growing impatience the rest of the party felt with how much time Mike and El were spending together.

"Nothing. I'm not dumb enough to take that bet." She scoffs back.

Will knew the frustration leaking through to her voice was not directed at him, but their shared frustrations with their friends. Each of them missed them a great deal despite a whole summer together. Y/n rarely saw El now, and Will saw Mike just as often. Alone time that is, any get-together the party planned - beside Starcourt due to the precautions surrounding El and her safety - El and Mike were hardly present. They globbed onto one another to the point they rarely spoke to the others - and no one could speak to just one of them alone anymore.

Like her boyfriend, Y/n enjoyed this summer greatly - particularly since Will had been such a big part of it - but the party had begun to grow lonely. More complicated that is. Dynamics between everyone were far more complex than they ever had been the older they got. Mike's frustrations with Y/n from the previous year were quicker to simmer down than she initially thought which relieved her greatly. But she wasn't sure if it was because they were all older, El was back to stay, or enough time had passed - or possibly all of the above - but things between her and Mike were just different. With everyone, in fact.

Y/n was grateful to have Lucas still, he remained the friend she could go to when she had a problem. Her best mate in DnD, and the boy she could always count on to be looking out for what was best for his friends as well as himself. But lately, he had been spending all of his spare time with Mike when neither of them were with their girlfriends.

This was another reason - out of many - that Y/n was more than thankful to have Will by her side. They both had felt a bit ostracized after the events of the previous year. Will's recovery had not been a quick one, but Y/n was there through thick and thin. As was he with her own struggles regarding the life of hers that once was, and the scary truths she faced with the tremendous powers inside of her. Hours of their lives had been spent pouring over the Missing Experiment files that Y/n still held in her possession - far away from her mother of course. A dark thought - not the first of it's kind - popped into her head about her friends' distance; Perhaps this was why she and Will were often forgotten...

Y/n immediately shakes the thought away, casting it further into the shadows of her mind. As she does, she is overwhelmingly grateful for the sudden sight of bright orange hair and a tye-dye cap. Relief washes over her and Y/n snatches up Will's hand, all traces of sadness gone and eagerly she drags him to the entrance doors faster.

Max Mayfield and Lucas Sinclair dismount their bikes, far too fixed on sweeping the crowd for any sight of their friends to notice Will and Y/n's bike parked just a few spaces over.

Lucas sighs, resting his hands on his hips as his head rolls to look at Max displeased. "First ones... again. Think they'll ever learn how to get here on time?"

Max shrugs, eyes scanning the parking lot wearing a less than impressed expression. "Doubtful."

"Welll," Lucas's expression changes quickly as he slips into a hopeful sing-song voice. He grins down at her from his less than obvious growth spurt. "At least we're alone..."

Max's deadpanned expression comes to face Lucas, though she can't seem to mean it. Her lips pucker as she tries not to smile, failing miserably. Instead, she laughs, her mouth parting to fire a comeback when the sound of her name enters their ears from behind them.

Max turns to find her best friend speed walking towards her, a hand gripped tightly around Wills. Will sent both Lucas and Max a soft smile, and she found it easy to replicate. She liked Will, and his somewhat timid presence made her induction of the party a lot easier. But it was Y/n she was most excited to see.

Max and herself had quickly become the best of friends. With Dustin gone, and the guys distancing themselves she once again began to feel adrift. Sensing the same discomfort in Max, and the bonds forged in the horrifying events of the previous year, the friendship blossomed.

"I stand corrected," Max remarks to Lucas as the couple approaches.

Lucas bit back a laugh.

Y/n simpered, sending a look Will's way. "We got here early. Got to roam around a bit."

The pair nod and Max sends Y/n a playful smile. Y/n releases Will's hand and with simultaneous grins, she and Max step forward towards each other. They bump fists three times before grasping one another's wrists and leaning back as they each balance on one leg and pull themselves back in. They share a small laugh and turn to the others with a giddy smile, Lucas and Will having already gotten used to their closeness. And the new handshake they had developed over the summer.

"So, tell us," Max begins, a mischievous smirk flickering to her boyfriend before landing on Y/n. "how is the happy couple enjoying their last night of freedom?"

Everyone laughs in response, knowing full well she is referring to Dustin's return from camp tomorrow. Since the Snowball, more specifically the official beginning of Y/n and Will's relationship, Dustin - while begrudgingly willing to admit he was happy for them - was less than pleased with their closeness. And he made no effort to hide it.

"Pretty good, I'd say," Y/n laughs, looking to Will who nods.

"We got some good photos over at Flash," he finishes.

Lucas and Max share a knowing expression before sending a flat, unimpressed look to either of their friends.

"What?" They ask in unison, furthering their point.

"Just," Lucas laughs, gesturing to them. "you two. You guys are-"

He looks to Max and it doesn't take her long to complete the joke they had clearly practiced at least once before.

"finishing each other's sentences." Without skipping a beat, or making eye contact, the second couple bump fists. Max laughs, revealing her light-hearted teasing. "Honestly, it's sickening."

More titters break loose, and Will rolls his eyes despite a smile."Whatever,"

"Yeah," says Y/n, amused tone growing flat again. "At least we're not like Mike and El."

A bitter, but mostly disappointed chuckle ripples throughout the gathered group of friends as they reflect, all of them silently agreeing. Finally, Will diverts their attention to the aforementioned Wheeler boy.

"Hey, where is he anyway?" He asks, looking at his watch.

"Take a guess." Lucas retorts.

"Well, he better hurry!" Max says, looking around matter-of-factly. "Or we're gonna miss the previews."

"Forget the previews," Y/n huffs, hands beginning to fiddle subconsciously with her watch. "We're gonna miss the opening at this rate."

"No way I'm missing the movie," Max remarks, arms folding over her chest as Y/n nods along with her."I'm going in with or without him. If he's late, that's on him."

"Wait-" Lucas's gaze fixes on a spot in the busy parking lot, and quickly he gestures. "There he is!"

"About time," Max grumbles.

Their collective gaze carries them to a bike being ridden by Mike Wheeler that peddles through the parking lot of Starcourt Mall. The entire lot is lit up by the strips of neon light, illuminating all the cars and turning the black tarmac of the concrete a deep blue. He sails into view, gliding through the intricate web of mall-goers with ease only to come to a gradual halt before their feet at the bike rack.

They all wear unimpressed looks as he discounts his new bike, a model he upgraded to only months ago, that he now secures in a spot beside Lucas's. Like the others - perhaps, even, the most - he has grown tremendously. He stands several inches taller, and for reasons unknown to a select few of his friends, the abrasiveness he had obtained the previous year lingered though not nearly as intense.

"You're late," Lucas huffs.

"Sorry," Mike says through shortened breaths.

"Again."

"We're gonna miss the opening," Will scolds.

"Yeah, if you guys keep whining about it." He retorts. "Let's go!"

Mike jumps into line with his friends, rushing for the doors as if the comment hadn't struck another nerve with his friends. Lucas' voice raises in pitch as he contorts his face, mocking Mike.

"If you guys keep whining about it. Nyeh-nyeh-nyeh."

The small act draws out a laugh in Y/n, a wide and mischievous grin stretches across her face as she matches his pace.

"No, Lucas," she corrects gently, pulling his gaze towards her as they walk."You gotta repeat yourself for emphasis if you wanna sound like Mike."

Everyone but Mike breaks into hysterical grins and wide eyes. Lucas' eyes light up as does his smile, his finger wagging excitedly as he nods and he scratches his chin and clears his throat. Mike all the while casts Y/n a sour look before rolling his eyes.

"My bad, Y/n, you're right." Lucas nods to her. "Set me up,"

Max and Will catch each other's smiling eyes before watching their partners' antics.

Y/n's smile drops, knowing immediately what he means, and exaggerated frown forms. "What are you talking about?"

Lucas's pitch grows high as does the volume of his voice as they enter Starcourt Mall, Y/n, and Will for the second time. Lucas's eyes grow wide.

"If you keep. Whining about it!"

The friends lock eyes and begin whining in sync.

"Nyeh-nyeh-NYEH!"

They burst into their own shared fit of laughter that doesn't quite reach the others in the same intensity, though smirks are still screwed tightly into Will and Max's cheeks. Mike's frown hardened as he stares dead ahead, and it breaks only once to send a cold glower to the conniving pair of friends.

"Hilarious." He deadpans.

"I thought so," Will chirps with a laugh.

The group rounds the corner, Shannon's Do You Wanna Get Away fights its way through the natural buzz of mall-goers as it plays overhead in the speakers, subconsciously filling the group of teenagers with building anticipation.

"Surprise, surprise," Mike fires back. "Look, there's nothing wrong with spending a little romantic time with my girlfriend."

"Of course there's not, Mikey," Y/n says, nimbly maneuvering through the small crowd that approached. "But this has been going on all summer, we're way passed,"

She brought her fingers in quotation marks. "'a little,'"

Before he can fire a response, The Party reaches the escalators. A plethora of apologies and 'excuse me's leave their lips as they weave through the crowd standing idly by as the escalators take them down.

"Hey!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry,"

"Excuse me, I'm sorry."

"'Scuse us! Thank you,"

They finally break through the wall of agitated people, Y/n's shoulder had accidentally hooked with another young woman who looked to be several years older and sent an apologetic look over her shoulder. Her gaze returned to the front just in time to see something similar happen to Mike, who collided with a girl their age rather roughly.

She continued walking with her friends but sent a bitter look his way.

"Watch it!"

"Yeah! Watch it, nerd!"

The Party's attention was brought to one of the benches surrounding the small decorative garden. There sat along the edge surrounded by her friends, was Erica Sinclair enjoying a vanilla cone with extra sprinkles.

"Isn't it passed your bedtime?" Lucas asks her as they pass.

"Isn't it time you died?" She fires back, causing a wide smile to break out on Y/n's face.

Mike is the first to enter Scoops Ahoy as he scurried inside ahead of everyone else, Lucas and Y/n being the last of the bunch inside.

"Lucas, you grossly underestimate your sister and it disappoints me greatly."

"Shut up, Henderson." He huffs.

A bright and satisfied laugh breaks loose from her chest as she files in with the rest of her friends and boyfriend to Scoops Ahoy. She quickly recognized the long cropped bob of dark blonde hair stuffed under the AHOY sailors hat and smiled subconsciously knowing Robin was at the counter. But much to her distaste, Mike began ringing the bell repeatedly in a shrill pattern that irked her.

Robin sent the boy a dissatisfied look, and without so much as blinking, she called back to her coworker in back.

"Hey, Dingus, your children are here."

The frosted glass windows are thrown open to reveal a disgruntled Steve Harrington in a matching vibrant blue sailor costume with a matching red name tag. His eyes land on The Party, all whom of which stand with blank and bored expression with the exception of the young Henderson girl who flashes a weak and toothy smile. He sighs with half-lidded eyes, his expression worn and tired.

"Again? Seriously?"

Mike slams his hand on the bell with an impatient look, earning three similar frowns from the two employees and Y/n Henderson.

Steve stands impatiently at the back door as the five teenagers seem to be taking their sweet time going through the back, completely disregarding his rules he had laid out. After all, he was risking his job for them to do this, and it seemed only few took it seriously.

"Come on, come on," he hisses.

They all file out of the door without so much as a second glance, except for Y/n, who held up the back and seemed eager to get out. She lingered by Steve, sticking her hand out and begrudgingly he complied. Their knuckles met in a quick fistbump they had begun doing one day when Dustin and herself had visited with him. A genuine smile lit up her face from a simple happiness that could only come from a Henderson.

"Thanks for all this Steve,"

She scurried down the hallway with her friends, remembering the rules, and not wanting him to get in trouble. But her face lights up, and Y/n spins on her heel to face him, still walking backward.

"I'll tell Dustin you say hi!" She calls.

Steve watches as the group disappears down the hallway, and he shakes his head with a heavy sigh as he leans against the doorknob.

Okay, so they weren't all that terrible.

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spectrumed · 3 years

Text

2. voice

As a child I could not pronounce the letter R. I once complained to my mother for being so careless as to give me a name that had two R’s in it. Fredrik. Or as I pronounced it back then, “Fledlik.” Cute, right? I was a cute child, all blonde and with big blue eyes. At one point, I got surrounded by a group of older girls who forced me to pronounce my name, even though I really couldn’t. They laughed and laughed, teasing me for my inability to pronounce even my own name correctly. If I ever had a reason to develop a fetish for femdom, I think this would have been it.

Like it or not, in speech, there is no room for individual quirks. No, we’ve all got to learn how to speak properly. Historically, that has led to some pretty heinous attitudes towards regional accents, any tongue that was the standard was seen by default as being less or developed and intelligent. Regional accents were seen as practically unhygienic, the worry being that if people just got to speak as they wished, they might end up potentially thinking dangerous thoughts. While I understand the importance of being understood, it’s clear that the stigma that exists around speech difficulties stems from a place of prejudice. If a person has a lisp, do you really struggle to understand them? And while stammering can be quite debilitating, it should be blatantly obvious that shaming people who stammer, suggesting that they are bereft of intelligence, is not the way to help them. Humans are social animals, and language may be the one thing that distinguishes us as a species, it is natural that proper elocution should be treasured. But some people do struggle with their speech, and that should not cost them any respect or kindness.

As a child, I didn’t speak nearly enough. As an adult I am speaking too much. That’s the problem with you, Fredrik, you’ve never understood that there is a middle ground between two extremes. There is a way you can speak that is neither too quiet, nor too loud. It is how normal people speak. Why can’t you be normal, Fredrik? Are you going to spend this whole blog post talking about how difficult it is for you to simply learn to be like everyone else? Self-pitying yourself, much? Back in my day people pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, if they had something they struggled with, they learned to sort it all out, and they didn’t start complaining about society being all mean to them. You’re just spending too much time inside your own head, go take a swim, take up a hobby that requires you to step outdoors, it will serve you well. Don’t be a freak, Fredrik. Be normal, for once.

On a side note, “pulling yourself up by your bootstraps” is meant to be understood as an impossible feat. You can’t possibly pull yourself up by your bootstraps, it’s ludicrous to even suggest that such a thing may be feasible. While, yes, there are many things you can do to help yourself, ultimately, you can’t profoundly escape from a sorry situation you’ve found yourself in without some outside help. There is no shame in requiring help. To guilt someone into thinking that if they can’t do it alone, they are weak, is frankly sociopathic. Humans need each other, we take care of each other, we are there for each other. Self-sufficiency is great, but let’s not take it to levels of absurdity by suggesting that needing help from others is anything but normal. No-one succeeds in life without others there to prop them up. Instead of telling someone to pull themselves up by their bootstraps, you might as well tell them to go and swallow the sun, which is clearly another impossible task.

Most people will never in their lives experience what it is like to go through a neuropsychological evaluation. Turns out that it is not always such a pleasant experience. Though, considering the popularity of pseudo-scientific nonsense like the Myers-Briggs test, I am sure some folks would lie and pretend to love it. Certainly, there is a charm to being there and talking about yourself for several hours near-uninterrupted, but the exhaustion that you will feel at the end of it cannot be understated. Naturally, it does vary between who does it, and why they’re doing it. But if the stated goal is to find out whether you’ve had a neurodevelopmental disorder since you were but a young babe, then of course, there are going to be some pretty long conversations happening about those early days. Lots of stuff you may not have considered or thought about in a very long time will suddenly become very relevant to your current situation. And at the end of it all, you get some papers detailing your fashionable new diagnosis. Your entire life, all written down. Can make you feel rather wistful. And there’s really quite a surprising amount of typos included in the text, and barely any jokes.

Still, as part of my official diagnosis, there is a reference to my speech at being at times “stilted.” Though, the diagnosis does take very good care to mention that I appear intelligent and thoughtful, exhibiting a wide vocabulary and a good sense of the right words to use at the right moment. It’s flattering, for the most part. Yet, it does irk me that I could be perceived as being stilted. I know that at this point, I am being petty, because who cares if I sometimes come across as maybe a little robotic. I’ve got Asperger’s. Of course I am a robot. The closest role model we folks with Asperger’s ever had for the longest time was Star Trek: The Next Generation’s android named Data. God forbid anyone like me ever turned out to be the protagonist of a series, we’re all doomed to play the part of the robot, the alien, or the socially awkward geek. I should just be delighted that I am high-functioning. I know how much worse some have it. I should be grateful and pleased that I come across as mostly normal, mostly neurotypical. But… I really just don’t want anyone to think my speech is stilted. I don’t want to be Data. I want to be Riker.

It is never enough, you’ll never be good enough. If you fake it, they’ll see through it. If you struggle and if you work honestly to appear more normal, they won’t recognise it. As soon as they get an inkling you may be an imposter, looking like them, but having a neurologically deviant brain, they’ll single you out. For you, normalcy is an illusion. To attempt to be normal is to remake yourself only to receive nothing. Sure, you can be disingenuous, pretend you're not yourself, but it’ll never fool them. In the end, you’ll only lose yourself. Maybe I should just own the fact that my speech sometimes comes across as being stilted. Maybe I should own it. Be proud of who I am. But… sometimes I just don’t want to be me.

I want to be ignored. Sometimes, not always. But that goes for everyone. But most of all, I’d like to be able to go unseen whenever I’m not trying to impress anyone. When I’m just off to buy some milk. When I’m sitting on the bus. When I’m walking through the park. I know it is partly paranoia, but I can’t help but feel like I stick out. It’s always been like that with my friends growing up. The metaphor I used with my therapist is that I felt like a thumb. That they, my friends, were the fingers and I was the thumb. Sure, we’re similar. In many ways we’re the same. You could even say that I was crucial to making the social dynamics work. Who doesn’t like the thumb? What would you do without your thumb? But still, I was different. Some people would do anything to be different like that, to feel special. Some folks feel all invisible and forgotten in the crowd, and I’d lie if I told them that I didn’t envy them sometimes. The ability to go all invisible? That seems swell! There’s this question people like to ask as a sort of personality test. If you could choose a superpower, would you rather be able to fly, or would you rather be able to go invisible? The answer is obvious, as far as I’m concerned. Of course I’d love to be able to go invisible. To be able to exist without anyone seeing me. Without anyone judging me. Without ever having to worry if someone is going to treat me as different. For a moment to feel what it is like not to be some big, dumb, stupid, thumb.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not too anguished. Nowadays, I feel like I am in a relatively good place. But I would be lying if I told you that I still don’t get frustrated at the plethora of difficulties I face just trying to blend in. Even with family members, people who are supposed to know you the best, even then I have to go out of my way to behave a certain way, to exist a certain way, because fundamentally, they just don’t seem to get you. Not in that way. They have an image of you that you need to try and match. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell them that sometimes you need to be more direct in your communication to truly reach me, I don’t pick up on the many smaller little social cues they may throw my way, it’s still just me being silly and looking for excuses for why I didn’t understand them the first time around. And I am deathly afraid of hurting anyone’s feelings. A very prevalent misconception about autistic individuals is that we don’t care if we’re being rude. That if we are rude, our rudeness can simply be overlooked because, y’know, we’re autistic. While this sort of thing is commonly represented in media that is supposed to depict autistic characters, in real life, things don't quite work like this. Believe it or not, readers, being autistic is not a free pass to act like a dick. Autistic individuals still very much have to modulate our behaviour if we wish to fit in and be accepted. No-one will ever excuse you for being autistic. To be autistic is living with extra hurdles in your way, thinking that it’s anything but a social handicap is romanticising a diagnosis you clearly know very little about.

When I was a kid, I didn’t speak much. As far as I was concerned, I merely spoke whenever I needed to speak. It took until adulthood for me to learn that my parents and teachers were actually concerned about that. I was made to see a specialist, under the guise of learning elocution, but I’ve later come to realise that those meetings were about more than just learning to pronounce the letter R. Like, what does testing my memory have to do with diction? Yes, her job was partly to help my speech develop more in line with the other kids, but she was also there to evaluate whether or not I was intellectually disabled. I have come to learn that I had teachers at the time that were adamant about me going to a different school, more equipped to handle kids like me, but my mother vehemently defended my right to stay in the school I was in. After all, I did have friends, and to anyone who really knew me, they knew that I was a bright child. Sure, I wasn’t as communicative as the other children, but I clearly had no issues processing information, and it’s not like I was disruptive in some other way. But that was also part of the problem. The teachers that thought that I may need specialist schooling were concerned about the fact that I was too placid and too agreeable. They wanted me to express frustration at my lacking pronunciation, to see me get mad at others for not fully understanding me. That amazes me, if anything. The fact that I was a happy kid they took as some indication that I wasn’t quite right.

My mother delights in a memory of me as a kid once slamming my fist on the table and declaring that “now, I am speaking!” May I remind you that I was a cute kid. Sure, it is the sort of behaviour that parents of the old times would have spanked their kids for. Kids in the past were supposed to be quiet. To be seen, but not heard. I wonder if there’d be any kind of hubbub about my early development if I lived back then. I’d probably be seen as the ideal child, all pretty and docile and never too loud. Still, it was a moment my mother cherished, because for once, I really proved that I did have the capacity to speak. Though, I still couldn’t pronounce my R’s. But it was time for Fledlik to speak.

#neurodiversity #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health

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tocrackerboxpalace · 3 years

Text

Le Rêve - Part 6

Summary: After an unproductive studio session, George and Ringo leave in a hurry. John later returns to find his glasses and another unwelcome surprise.

Things were different now.

Not entirely—they still had the band, the songwriting partnership, the united front for the media and press. It’s just that now, the tour was completed with determination and efficiency, becoming just another box to check off. Now, Paul relied much more heavily on George’s suggestions, and in a fit of jealousy or competition (Who could be sure? What was the difference?), John did the same. Now, Lennon-McCartney hardly wrote together and never wrote alone, needing George or Ringo to be in the space as a buffer.

When Paul had come back into the room that night, George knew he’d found John. He entered wordlessly, immediately throwing all of his belongings into his trunk, and George didn’t have the heart to ask where he was going. He and Ringo simply stared, too afraid to test the waters that were more tumultuous than they’d ever seen.

When Paul had finished packing, he’d looked pointedly at Ringo until the man understood. Ringo pushed himself up out of the armchair and followed him out of the room. He’d returned only minutes later with a sad smile in George’s direction that he assumed was meant to be reassuring, but instead was plain unsettling—a visual marker of the notion that something had changed within the group. Ringo had unpacked his things on Paul’s side, and that was that.

They weren’t allowed to talk about what happened. It was this unspoken rule, but a rule nonetheless—which was rather fine with George at first, anyway. But as time dragged on and the air grew no less hostile, George figured that he would rather talk about it for hours if it meant getting the old dynamic back. He was torn between two opposite poles of the spectrum, a futile effort of trying to please both Lennon and McCartney. There was a bitterness flourishing within him at the recognition of his usefulness only when they didn’t need each other. But objectively speaking, he was given more say, more credit, more songs. He couldn’t complain. Or he shouldn’t complain.

Something about the unspoken rule led George and Ringo not to talk about it with each other, either. George knew Ringo was absolutely dying to; at every uncomfortable or unnatural interaction between John and Paul, George knew a concerned glance from Ringo was coming his way. Ringo needed to talk about things, and George felt right guilty in deliberately ignoring the desire. He was just holding out hope that if no one addressed it in any context, the universe would wash away that it even happened, and the band—their livelihoods—would live on.

The quick succession of knuckles against the side of his head jerked him out of his daydream (nightmare?).

“Hello?” Ringo quipped. “Anyone home?”

George scowled and slumped deeper into his seat. “Barely.”

He and Ringo had been dicking about in the studio for the past half-hour. It was just the two of them—Paul hadn’t shown up, and John, already in a sour mood for the day, had cursed the man under his breath and stalked off. That had been about an hour ago, and when John didn’t return, the remaining boys gave up trying to focus. After a brief quarrel over who dropped the ball on bringing the marbles and playing cards, Ringo suggested a friendly competition over who could butcher “She Loves You” on their respective instruments in a funnier fashion. Which, credit where credit was due, was incredibly entertaining; only minutes before now, George had been rolling on the ground in laughter when Ringo had seemingly pulled a bicycle horn from his arse and honked it in place of the famed McCartney-Harrison “Ooh’s”.

However, as many things do when one has an attention span of about two minutes, the game soon grew tired—the song was only so long—and the pair had resorted to quiet, mindless fiddling on their instruments. In turn, the lapse into silence and thought had led George down his aforementioned neuro-rabbithole.

“Are you all right?” Ringo questioned, lifting an eyebrow in his direction. “Y’just seem a bit… off lately, I dunno.” There was an urge there, a pull. Ringo was nearly leaned forward off his chair.

“Off how?” George mused, entertaining the idea a bit. His tone was light, but his expression was stern. It was clear that they were both acknowledging the Unspoken Thing; it was also clear that it would remain as such.

Ringo bit his lip and shrugged back, evidently noting George’s reservations. “Y’know. Quiet-like. At least, more so than usual.”

George scoffed at the referenced nickname. The Quiet Beatle. As if! Give him a question worth answering, and they’d see who the quiet one was then. Certainly not him. “I’ve just got a lot on me mind,” he muttered, lifting a shoulder.

“You’re more in demand than before,” Ringo pointed out bluntly.

A rub of the temples didn’t do much to soothe the stress in his body. The weight of the emotional and mental burdens he’d carried over the last few weeks was beginning to settle on his shoulders with Ringo’s prodding. A sudden exhaustion clouded over him. “I know.”

“Is that bad?”

George looked at his friend with dull eyes. “Should it be?”

He didn’t need an answer, but it still stung a bit not to get one.

After a long beat of silence, Ringo hastily changed the subject. “Maybe we should call it quits for the day,” he suggested with a half-hearted grin, tapping the bass drum lightly and modestly. It was almost a tick at this point, the drummer seemingly wholly unaware of his actions.

George decided to play along with the shift in energy. “I agree, Ritchie. Feels a bit useless without Their Royal Highnesses around to conduct us,” he added with a roll of the eyes and a giggle.

Ringo hummed in agreement. “Oh, John, oh, Paul, please save us! We can’t even remember what album we’re supposed to be working on!” He cackled at his own joke.

“Help!, isn’t it?” George partly ignored the dramatic flair and turned to flick off the amp. He caught Ringo’s sparkling stare as he reached to unplug his Rickenbacker.

“No, mate. We’ve done that one already. Y’know, the whole ‘film’ bit?”

George blinked. “Right.”

“George Harrison, foremost Beatles expert,” Ringo chided. He glared reproachfully at an imaginary camera. “Don’t do drugs, kids.”

“Piss off!” George tried to glower, overruled by the laughter in his voice. Ringo offered him a hand and pulled him up out of the chair.

“Fancy a smoke?”

George’s lips drew into a wide grin. Based on the context, he knew exactly what kind of smoke he was implying. “Race ya to the car.”

—

“Mind telling me where everyone ran off to?”

Paul lifted an accusatory gaze in John’s direction as the man entered the room, his brow deeply furrowed in concentration.

“How should I know?” John answered, scanning the room fervently. His eyes hadn’t met Paul’s yet, Paul noted with a twinge of annoyance.

“Was there not a session today?” Paul hinted, irked by the idea that John too may have tried to skip out. Sure, Paul had been late, but at least he’d intended on coming.

John paused for a moment, shooting him a critical glare. “You tell me.”

He didn’t feel like trying to defend himself.

After a long moment of staring expectantly, John realized he wasn’t going to get an answer. He huffed and returned to his search, tipping over a chair to peer underneath it.

Paul rolled his eyes and offered the glasses at arm’s length, clearing his throat to draw the attention. John blushed and hurried over to snatch them up. He quickly stuffed them back into his pocket.

In response to the twinge of curiosity in his gaze, Paul only shrugged. “Left ‘em on the settee over there, you did. Just figured you would return for them sooner or later.”

John grunted in response.

Paul raised an eyebrow as the man began to head for the door. “All right, then. Mind at least telling me where you’re running off to?”

“I just came back for me glasses.”

“Came back?”

“You weren’t there,” John muttered, nearly inaudible. “I left.”

Paul stiffened, viciously reprimanding the sentimental twitch his heart gave to John’s response. “’M just late. Got caught up in traffic, is all.”

It was a silly excuse. John quirked an eyebrow at the boldfaced lie, knowing good and well Cavendish was barely a ten-minute walk. Paul watched him chew his lip for a moment before deciding to let it be.

Paul accepted John’s compliance graciously and returned to tuning his bass. His skin prickled as he felt John’s eyes on him, watching him closely. Tensions were still incredibly high between them, on account of the thing-that-happened-but-“never-happened”—and it was taking a lot of getting used to. The feeling was unsettling; time and again Paul would have to physically restrain himself, ignoring the twitching desire in his hand to touch John or biting back a witty comment that only John would understand. The emotional connection they’d had was gone, or at least dormant, and Paul couldn’t for the life of him figure out what was going through that thick head anymore. It even seemed that Ringo and George had a better guess than him.

It was miserable, really, having to pretend that everything was just dandy. There had been a substantial amount of press upon return from the tour, which was more of an irritation than anything else. There, he could slide into his Paul McCharmly persona, the façade already being somewhat of a character. The lie got quite easy to live when one was already acting. But the media circus was relatively quiet now (as it would ever be), and the hardest part was trying to pretend in front of the three people that knew him better than anyone else alive.

He wasn’t even sure who the pretending was for anymore. It certainly did nothing to quiet his mind or soul.

“What are you working on?” It was a half-arsed effort at conversation, but an effort nonetheless.

“Nothing, yet,” Paul answered, frowning in the direction of his instrument. “I’ve got a bit—real simple, for ‘Wait’. Might add some flare to it, might finish it. Might run it through and absolutely hate it and scrap it. Who knows,” he concluded, almost to himself.

“I think we should talk.” John’s voice, quiet, low.

Paul glanced up at him with a start, desperately trying to mask the surprise on his face. John was looking at him with an odd expression on his face, something Paul couldn’t quite put words to. Only then did he realize that it was the first time the two of them had been alone since the incident.

Heart pounding, he tensed. “When?”

“Now.” The answer was definitive.

“About what?” Paul responded sheepishly.

John’s eyes flashed.

Let’s just forget it ever happened.

Paul felt a sudden wave of stubbornness wash over him, feeling hollow at the abrupt activation of the memory. Of course he couldn’t fucking forget it happened. He couldn’t, and he shouldn’t be expected to. None of them should. Paul noticed the sad, wondering gazes from the other bandmates as well. Sweeping it under the rug had been wholly counterproductive to the entire group (though he didn’t entirely want to test the alternative, either). Best case scenario, the whole thing wouldn’t have happened.

But it did. And life was infinitely worse now because of it.

Paul swallowed hard. This was all John’s fault. Paul could have kept the dream a secret for the rest of his life. A few shameful wanking sessions was probably all it would take to get over it, and while he might look at John a bit differently after, at least John wouldn’t be looking at him differently. About a week of awkwardness would likely ensue, and John would make some offhand comment about how Paul was acting queer, and the two would laugh it off, only one of them knowing how much truth the comment carried. It was John’s fault, because Paul could have figured it out on his own.

“You know what,” John answered coldly.

John wanted to be cold? Paul could do cold. “I really don’t,” he countered with sickeningly false innocence. “What’s got you all worked up, Johnny?”

“Fuck off, Paul, you know what I’m talking about. Don’t try to fuckin’ skirt around it anymore.”

Paul’s heart was hammering in his throat, the blood rushing in his ears. After weeks of drowning in his own head, hearing the words come out of John’s mouth so… dismissively was blindingly infuriating. He had been driving himself mad trying not to talk about it, to think about it, to feel it. He’d shoved the memory down with so much force he’d thought his soul would pop, only to watch it helplessly bubble back to the surface. There was no forgetting it, and there was no addressing it. And now, John was breaking the number one Unspoken Rule of the Unspoken Thing like he never gave a shit about them in the first place.

“Skirting ar-? I’m not skirting around anything. I’m truly blanking, Johnny.” He paused, throat too constricted to swallow the massive lump in it. “Are you sure it’s not something I was supposed to forget?” The comment didn’t have near the effect Paul had hoped.

“Every conversation’s got to turn into a fuckin’ brawl with you, doesn’t it?” John crossed his arms, looking like nothing more than a pissed-off older sibling.

Paul was beside himself. His voice cracked, the words coming out in a near-shriek, but he was so furious that it hardly mattered. “With me? Every conversation is a brawl with me?”

“D’you need to bloody hear it again?” John looked minorly inconvenienced. If he’d had a watch on, he’d be sure to check it right now lazily. His demeanor was utterly vexatious, awakening feelings Paul didn’t even know he had. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this upset with someone.

“You think you get some type of medal, standing up in front of me and acting like none of this matters?” Paul was on his feet now, openly striding towards him. Startled, John stumbled backward a step before smacking his back against the wall. “You want a bleeding award?” Paul raised his tone an octave and fluttered his eyelashes dramatically, a mockery on all levels: “Oh, John, you’re so stony and brave, I bet nothing ever rattles my big, strong man!”

“Fuck you,” John whispered, his eyes begging the conversation to slow down. But Paul was on a roll now, and he’d be damned if he didn’t let out all of the pent-up pain John and John alone had caused over the last few weeks.

“No, fuck you. Do you know how hard it’s been? News flash, John. Not everything is about how you feel. Hard to believe, I know.” John opened his mouth to speak, but Paul cut him off. He was practically on him now, pushing John against the wall as he helplessly cowered under Paul’s alarming tirade.

“Do you know how hard it’s been for me? Trying to figure out if I’m a goddamn queer because of you? And how about the sleepless nights, eh? You’ve had those too, I know it.” A sick sense of pride effloresced in Paul’s chest as John’s eyes shot wide with recognition. “Lying in bed and wondering if you’re not who you thought you were. Wondering what when wrong along the way to make you this way, and what the hell you can do about it now. It’s maddening. And you took my right to get an answer, John.” Paul’s voice broke a bit at the next part. “Talking to you was my only hope at figuring this out and you took it away from me. And now we can’t talk about anything anymore.”

When John started to speak again, Paul lifted a final triumphant hand in his face. “I’m not done. Because let me tell you, Lennon, I don’t care if you need to bawl it out or never think about it again. But don’t stand here and fucking bullshit me like this. I know you.”

John straightened against the wall, eyes flashing with a hatred that almost made Paul’s knees buckle. “You don’t have a bloody clue what’s bullshit. Your whole foundation is bullshit. You’re not pissed at me because you’re upset that our pretty union wasn’t consummated, and thus I robbed you of a chance to explore this bit of newfound sexuality.” John’s tone was mocking, saturated with pretentiousness and exaggeration. “You’re pissed at me because I was just another shag you didn’t get to fully add to your sexual conquests. Grow the fuck up, Paul. You want to talk about knowing each other? I know you. You’re the one who’s bullshitting yourself, not me.”

Attacking John back felt like a safer bet than trying to defend himself. “Like you were there for some miraculous consummation? Some beautiful, heart-wrenching dénouement to a tragic love story? You’re full of it. Don’t come for me like you had some higher ground to speak from. We’re not special, John. We don’t have some kind of cosmic soulmate connection where we can read each other’s minds and desires. You and I, as anything, aren’t going to live happily ever after. Go buy into some other fuckin’ fantasy.”

“You were a mistake,” John spat.

“Mistakes happened,” Paul concluded. “I didn’t.”

John gaped at him as Paul pushed off. His chest was heaving, tight with unrestrained breaths, looking like a cornered animal. Though it was impossible to explain, Paul watched in real time as something shattered in John’s soul. He didn’t know what it was, and it didn’t seem like John knew, either. Paul turned on his heel before he could give the sight any more thought.

“You told me to forget it. So that’s what I’m doing. For good.” Paul stalked back to where his guitar lay on the ground. He began to gather his belongings and pack up for the day. “This conversation is over.”

“So that’s it? You don’t want to talk about it?” John called out to him, planting himself in the doorway as Paul made for the exit.

“Get out of the way, John.”

He held his ground and spoke honestly for the first time in a long, long time. “You’re not gonna talk about it, yeah? That’s fine. Fuckin’ beautiful. I’ll talk about it. I love you.”

#the beatles #beatles fanfiction #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #mclennon #part 6 #chapter fic #ao3 #more angst #there's a happy ending coming soon i promise

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pops-and-kids · 4 years

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Heres a short fic for you guys! Not happy with it, but to be fair I’m rarely happy with any of my stuff. Also how the fuck do you format on this site. Its always painful when I have it how I want and tumblr goes “lol nah.” This is as good as it’s gonna get, I’m not tearing it apart again and restarting lmao

Whitebeard and Whitey Bay talk about something they should have settled a long time ago.

Pops smiled as he watched his children dance and laugh. A mingle of crews that hadn't seen each other in months. The energetic atmosphere that filled the ship was hard not to feel. His children yelled and drank; A friendly fight here, a splash of someone being thrown overboard there, the excitement that surrounded the Moby brought a small smile to the old man's face. Even with all the joy and laughter, however, there was a less exciting reason he had called them to the Moby.

“Good evening, my dear. Enjoying yourself?” He chuckled at his fellow captains unamused huff.

Whitey stared up at him, eyebrow quirked curoisly, “Hard to enjoy yourself when you don’t know why you were summoned. You never give a vague reason to visit, and I doubt it was just for a party.”

Pops’ smile remained, but his demeanor grew dispirited. To the crew this was nothing more than a gathering amongst family, but to the captains who organized the whole event over the den-den there was something more, even if the one did not know the whole story.

“Yes,” He said, “There is something we must discuss. Though...not here.”

This was to be a personal chat just between the two of them; a father and his daughter, not captains on unequal footing. As he stood up the crew briefly halted to look at their father figure. He simply gave a smile and wave, and just like that the party continued. Whitey followed him to back to his quarters, puffing her chest out proudly and her hands balled at her sides. He could feel her questioning gaze burning into his back the whole way.

He felt a glow of pride at how observant and unapologetic his first daughter was, calculated and cold. No matter what he heard uttered from smaller crews or the blasphemy from the marines, only the Whitebeards truly knew just how important and revered Whitey was. Pops was a truly lucky father, and yet...no matter how outspoken and confident he was, he felt he had done her a great disservice. He felt it was high time he addressed it, for both their sakes.

Once in his quarters he closed the door behind her and sat on the edge of the bed, offering a hand down to her. The confused and slightly disturbed expression on her face never changed as he gently scooped her up and placed her on his blankets. The two remained silent for some time, Pops formulating his words in his head and Whitey watching him with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow. It was hard to know where to start.

“So…” Whitey broke the awkward silence, “Is there a reason you’re being so unusually secretive? And not in the ‘all knowing father’ way.”

“Gurarara. Sharp-witted as always.”

Shifting to the side so they were facing each other he took a deep breath.

“I wanted to talk about something that has been on my mind. I should have called you much, much sooner about this, but I suppose now is better then never.”

Whitey frowned. She looked uneasy, crossing her legs and staring up at him.

“Oookay…..shoot.”

“Do you remember when we first met? Even though you are known as the ice witch your eyes burned like fire. You were ready to give hell to those who kept your island in a state of fear. No hesitation except with trusting us. You were, and still are, a frightening, cold force of nature, my daughter.”

He chuckled as the memories washed over him. Whitey quirked a small smile at his praises.

“I remember being so proud to have you. I couldn't stop smiling and laughing like the young fool I was. But we both know how arrogant I could be at times when blinded by my accomplishments. I was, and still am, a product of an old era no longer suited for this time.

“I know I have not been the best father to you, because I wouldn’t give you what you rightly deserved.”

Whiteys eyes widened with shock and even more confusion as he spoke. She leaned forward to yell something but was stopped by Pop raising his hand for silence.

“Please. Allow me to speak my peace.”

Her jaw clamped shut with an audible ‘click’ of her teeth, brows furrowed and body tense. She clearly did not agree with him and was questioning why he would say such a thing, but he did not call her to have her praise him for being something he did not feel he lived up to.

Pops closed his eyes and continued, “You were always just as capable as the men on our crew. Just as fierce, just as formidable an opponent. And yet I, ever a fool, never did offer you a commander's seat. You have always been worthy of one, from the day we met you I should have had you in mind. I’m sure you and Jiru could have worked in tandem as co-commanders seeing as you are both matched for skill. But never once did the idea occur to me. I was a fool who was so caught up in the wonder of having a daughter he did not bother to think of you as anything more than that. You were a daughter, a girl who should never be pushed to fight and care for her family.

“You are so much more. A warrior born from ice with the sharpest tongue and quickest wit, clever and proud. And I know that is why you decided to leave and make your own crew and instead ally with us; Because I did not treat you with the respect and honour you have earned and deserved for years, you felt you had to go out and gather it yourself. The feeling that I unintentionally pushed you away with my ignorance will always be one of my biggest regrets. I have always been proud of you for what you have accomplished, that will never change, but I cannot help but wonder what could have been if I hadn't been blindsided by old ideals that no longer hold water.”

Opening his eyes he met Whiteys cold, blue stare. Her mouth was ajar, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Pops….” Was all she managed to say, her tone was that of disbelief and softness.

“Whitey, my dear,” He leaned down, bowing his head to her slightly, “Please forgive this old man for his transgressions.”

Whitey and him stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. He did not make any moves to sit back up, instead showing the most respect a man of his caliber could by remaining in his gesture. Whitey still was at a loss for words, yet her hand reached up and gently pressed against his forehead as if to soothe an aching beast. A smile graced her cool, pale face and her eyes warmed.

“You’ve said you pride yourself on not hanging on to the past too much, and yet here you are. I already forgave you, Edward. A long time ago. All that was over a decade ago anyway, I’m a little insulted you didn’t bring this up earlier if it’s bothered you.” She lightly teased.

“Gurararara. Well when you get older you tend to do a lot of thinking.”

They smiled at one another in silence. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Knowing she didn't hold anything against him for his younger selves shortcomings made him feel at ease.

“I was mad at you at first, but those feelings never got so strong I wanted out. Yes, it’s true I left and made my own crew because I felt I was under-appreciated and my skills were brushed off. But I never regretted meeting you or felt I could do better without you, which is why I proposed allyship. I felt lucky you even allowed me to do that, you weren’t too keen on family leaving the ship.”

Pops hummed and nodded as she spoke her side of the situation. If he could go back in time he would have given her the okay to fight alongside her brothers more, her own division or co-commander status, whatever it was she felt she deserved he would have etched it into their dynamics. He would always be protective, but it was to a smothering fault when she was still among the crew on the Moby Dick. Though she would always heed his call as her captain, it was better this way. She was worthy of her title as captain, she didn’t need him to stand up for her to make that clear to any who mocked her.

“I have to say though, it’s nice to hear it from the old shipwrecker himself.” Whitey joked, gently hitting his chin.

Pops laughed as he sat up straight, readjusting his position to be leaning back against the headboard.

“Is that what people are calling me these days? ‘Shipwrecker’?”

The tense atmosphere had melted away as did the cold look in Whiteys eyes, a feeling of deep care and familial affection replacing it. The two captains talked late into the evening about small things, paperwork and territory discussions being forgotten for the time being. They talked about their ships, their family, silly or strange happenings that occurred for them both. When Thatch had come to warn them about the final call for booze they both agreed to a mug, much to his surprise.

Whitey wouldn’t rip him a new one for drinking himself stupid, just for tonight.

#*muffled screaming*#I hate how tumblr formats stuff #come on man I had it all nice and pretty and then I go to post it and you fuck it up #((TT_TT))#Im probably gonna notice a mistake after posting this and cry #haha #Pops : Whitebeard #Edward Newgate #Whitebeard #Whitebeard pirates #Whitey Bay #((short story))#Thatch #Briefly makes an appearance

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jcmorrigan · 3 years

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001 - Tales of Zestiria?

Favorite character: It's a tough call between Maltran and Symonne, and Lunarre is trailing right behind both. I tend to call them the "Heldalf Squad," but make no mistake, Heldalf himself isn't part of it. I just like his swagalicious minions. The dry and sarcastic political manipulator, the sadistic and wordy theater nerd, and the flamboyant cannibal who hates everything. Yes. LOVE. But I have to give a shout to my boy Dezel on the hero side! Angsty/stoic characters are very hit-or-miss with me, but Dezel is the flavor I love - obvious soft spots and quirks, and slowly he builds from being antisocial to showing how big his heart is. When he stops the woman from leaping off the Guinevere tower...that's one of my favorite scenes in the entire game, because you can see when the switch flips, when he realizes that he CANNOT stay aloof any longer when there's a stranger's life on the line. He's still a grump about it but a compassionate grump.

Least Favorite character: Heldalf. His backstory is really clever, and I like the curse on him. But he himself just feels like Ganondorf but more boring. I kinda hate that he's so vanilla when his three lieutenants are in my arsenal of pet villains from the vastness of fiction. Also shout-out to Chancellor BART in the opening Ladylake act, because I distinctly remember liveblogging this to a friend, and I played Zestiria *after* Berseria (I'd loved Berseria and that's why I eventually sought out Zestiria) so here I am just comparing up the corrupt church in Ladylake to the Abbey's suave rogues gallery like "Yeah no BART has nothing on Lady Teresa Linares." Thankfully BART was never seen again.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): DezeRose, SorMik, Symonne x Coco Atarashi (The World Ends With You), Alisha Diphda x Sergei Strelka, and...I swear you have to bear with me here...Zaveid x Anna (Frozen). I also kinda wanna note a couple ships I'm on the fence about for my other favies - those being Maltran x Ebony Maw (Marvel Cinematic Universe or Marvel Ultimate Alliance) and Lunarre x Arkham (Devil May Cry).

Character I find most attractive: Dezel. It is a scientific fact that guys with pointy teeth are just hotter.

Character I would marry: Maybe Dezel, maybe Sergei. I wouldn't want to take them from those I see as their wifeys, but at the same time, they are husband goals, both of them.

Character I would be best friends with: Catch me clinging to Maltran's train and she drags me along annoyedly as I yell "PLEEEEAAASE LET ME HANG OUT WITH YOU GUYS" and Lunarre is losing it laughing while Symonne rolls her eyes

a random thought: So I toyed around with basically every accessory I picked up, and I decided to put the sideburns on Rose because fuck gender roles. Well then I just got used to seeing her with facial hair in every cutscene where her 3D model was used, and now I headcanon that she does get it. Maybe nonclassical CAH intersex? Like, I don't necessarily see her as trans (but I support everyone who hc's her as such) but moreso "a cis woman, but I grow this stupid damn facial hair like a dude and I don't get why." And this is why you shouldn't let me play with customizable accessories on RPG characters because I can and will abuse my privilege to headcanon.

An unpopular opinion: That this is actually a very good game. Listen, I think I get it - the initial marketing promised something far different. And that's disappointing. But coming back to it several years after its release, after the release of its PREQUEL, when I never had that hype building up...it actually exceeded my expectations. I held off from it for a while because I thought Eizen's fate would make me too sad, but that didn't end up the case at all. I actually had just come off playing a more recently-released triple-A game that was hyped up for years, and I completed it to my satisfaction in 20 hours. $80 for 20 hours. Zestiria gave me my money's worth in comparison; it took me about 60, and I loved just how MUCH story it had to offer me. I honestly like Rose better than Alisha anyway (Rose was one of the biggest aspects that interested me about playing it in the first place). I've also seen complaints that the characters weren't well-developed enough? Which I just kinda take to mean "They didn't angst enough." Listen. There are PLENTY of games out there if you want angst and sad stories. I don't really like sad stories in my games. I like adventures where the party is a goofy foundfam that jokes around with each other and helps each other work through shitty situations, and that's EXACTLY what I got. (And Berseria really worked on me too because it kinda started at the bottom of the angst barrel, then worked its way up through "The edgy and tortured protag has gained a party of idiots and oh noooooo she's learning friendship and happiness.") Dezel's death is one of the few game deaths that just made me SATISFIED to watch instead of depressed because of the closure he got and the themes tied into his final moments and sacrifice. I loved going on this adventure, I loved the idiots who I went on it with, and I loved seeing what Glenwood had to offer me in world design the further I explored.

my canon OTP: There's not much for canon romance in this game, come to think of it. Just subtext and some flirting. So I'm blanking on if there actually were any canon couples at all.

Non-canon OTP: DezeRose! Which maybe can be considered almost-canon based on the amount of subtext, but still. It's adorable. (And it's the exact same dynamic as EiRoku except M/F and a thousand years later. I need these four to double date...the dual-wielding goofs with their edgy, grumpy Reapers...)

most badass character: Rose! Not only able to wield the Shepherd's Armatization powers, but also to be a dang good assassin on her own, able to hold her own against Heldalf before she even had her eyes opened to seraphim! Though a shout-out goes to Edna because her armatization was my favorite to play with. There's something just satisfying about bashing the enemy in front of you with a pair of GIANT FISTS

pairing I am not a fan of: RoseAli. To be honest, it was at one point something I kinda enjoyed as a third-tier ship for Rose (Dezel first, then Lailah in second). But then...Alisha's Story. I didn't actually purchase it, thank goodness, just watched it on YouTube, and it was the most grating addition that anyone could've made to this game. First of all, I can sum up the issues with Alisha's Story by reminding everyone that it canonized a secret entrance to Camlann that was much easier to get to and wasn't protected by Muse's sacrifice. But the real thing that hurt to watch was how far down they had to knock Rose and Alisha's friendship to get them to rebuild from scratch. Rose claiming she was never Alisha's friend because she's grieving Sorey? The two of them getting into a PHYSICAL FISTFIGHT over it? Nope nope nope. That's not my Rose. Even less my Rose is that whole scene where she...you know...pounces on Alisha to dress her in the silly noblewoman's dress, and it's framed like...let's just say it's really uncomfortable to watch if you don't know the punchline is just a silly outfit. Even though Alisha's Story isn't canon in my head, it still really killed any buzz I had for RoseAli. I will also say I'm not a big fan of Eizavie - first of all, EiRoku or bust in this house, and second, I have a little bit of a hard time seeing Zaveid as mlm due to how much he goes on and on about The Ladies(TM). (Though I could see Eizen as having a tiny crush on him, though. Just like "Oh no he's hot but he's connected to Aifread's disappearance help")

character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): Mostly just in Alisha's Story. I was mad about the aforementioned Rose stuff, but also...like...they undid Lunarre's original cathartic death, they did so to team him back up with Symonne and then do a whole fakeout that they had Maltran with them too, but Maltran is just an illusion and immediately after this, Lunarre and Symonne just decide "Yeah, we're not gonna work together anymore, have a nice life." Why does Maltran need to stay dead if LUNARRE somehow survived EXPLODING? And just...look to next question for more clarification:

favourite friendship: I just want to imagine that Maltran, Lunarre, and Symonne were weird evil friends. The kind who'd take artistic selfies and caption them "Murder and mayhem with my besties!". Maybe they even had a sibling dynamic. They were all pretty dang jaded, so I like to think they sat around sometimes talking about the things in this world that did them wrong. The reasons they were drawn to Heldalf. Heldalf himself wouldn't have cared, he would've kicked them around like disposable tools, but the three of them were too entrenched in his dogma to see it. Maybe if they met up again after he was off the board...then they'd sing a different tune. Realize they're all three better than this, and now they're gonna do things THEIR way, because remember when they made a three-point attack on Glenwood and Sorey was barely able to keep up with them wrecking Lastonbell AND Pendrago AND Glaivend? Remember when Lunarre and Symonne had each other's backs the night Dezel died? Now they can do what they want on their terms! And I just - I have many MANY feelings about these three.

character I want to adopt or be adopted by: Okay silly self-insert time but the thing is, Archibald Snatcher (The Boxtrolls) and Roman Torchwick (RWBY) are my two favorite parental f/o's (and also my OTP to end all OTPs), and I have this thing about how they'd be PERFECT crime dads to Symonne in particular because she's like a little, more theatrical Neopolitan. So there's a universe in my head where Symonne is basically already my little sister, and I look out for her - well, okay, she's a seraph with powerful Artes and I am a powerless mortal so really she looks out for me because "I suppose SOMEONE has to make sure you don't die" and I am grateful to her for it.

#tales of zestiria

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crusherthedoctor · 4 years

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The Lutrudis Hadeer Characterization Masterpost

A while back, I made a big post about the thought process that went into the design for Lutrudis, as well as her name, species, and choice of weapons. In the midst of doing a bunch of other stuff (like the Eggman Sweet or Shite review, which is definitely still coming guys I swear, please don't leave me D':), I recently figured I could do the same for the character's... well, character, and provide some further insight into how her personality was shaped together. Cause why not, right?

Obviously, we won't be covering literally every single personality trait that Trudy has, like her hobbies and whatnot. If we went over all of that, we'd be so far into the future that Tumblr's search system might actually start working again. No, we'll just be keeping it to the central ingredients that make up the overall package.

1. A cool head? In my Sonic OC?

The recurring cast in the Sonic universe is filled with fiery, hot-blooded sorts in one way or another. Sonic might as well be the love child of Mentos and Diet Coke with how full of energy he is, Knuckles and Amy are both prone to letting their temper do the talking, Eggman... is Eggman, and the list goes on. And while there are a number of characters who are more low-key or even outright introverted by comparison, they still tend to exhibit a trait or two that makes them more in-line with the rest of the crowd, be it youthful excitement (Tails, Cream), a fiery temper (Blaze), or the odd bit of cockiness (Shadow).

So what better way to help make Trudy stand out... than by not really having anything like that at all? Contrary to most of the hot-blooded cast, it takes a lot to truly enrage her, and even then, you'll be lucky to get anything past tranquil fury. She's not particularly hammy either - flowery with her language at times, certainly, but not hammy - nor is she a cocky type, even against the weakest or most ridiculous of opponents, and although she does grow as a person over the course of the story she's involved in, all of this remains fairly consistent.

That's not to say that Trudy is not a passionate person. Far from it, in fact. She has a lot of passion. She just shows it in a different way than the average Sonic character.

2. Lutrudis? More like Unsureofdis.

Uncertain characters are also somewhat rare in Sonic's recurring cast (at least in the game universe), and just like with the previous point, even when they're there, they'll usually have something to counter it. Blaze may have been a bit insecure before meeting and befriending Sonic and Co, but as mentioned, she’s got a fierce temper, and even when she started off on her own, she felt that only she could take care of the threat of Eggman and Inferior Eggman Nega. Likewise, while Silver may have doubted himself about Leslie the Crack Dealer’s Iblis Trigger ruse cruise, he still got cocky when he had Sonic on the ropes, and he could be quite full of himself in the Rivals duology as well.

The point being, they still tend to show some semblance of the same “yep, I'm the one for the job, no questions asked” confidence and swagger that nearly everyone else has, no matter the flavor. Trudy, suffice to say, does not have this mentality. Trudy accepting Sonic and Co's help in dealing with sinister affairs in Viridonia without any haughty protest on her part isn't just because she knows they can handle it, or because they're Sonic Heroes and they'll show 'em the real superpower of teamwork... it's also because she's genuinely not sure if she would be able to take care of the matter on her own.

When she saved Cream from the wrath of the Wraith for example, she wasn't thinking “This looks like a job for Miss Hadeer!”

She was thinking “This could very well get me killed, but I have to help the poor bunny somehow...”

In other words, Trudy doesn't consider herself to be some sort of destined protector who has to do this herself. She constantly second guesses herself, and frequently believes her friends are more qualified and competent than she is. Her only reason for doing her best and helping out regardless is simply because she wants to.

3. A light at the end of the tunnel.

For the sake of tact, it's not shoved in your face relentlessly, but reading between the lines, it can be easy to get a sense of melancholy from Trudy. Particularly due to past experiences, she does indeed have an element of depression within her, and this can occasionally show in her body language and facial expressions, even if she's currently feeling positive emotions.

And yet, notice how she continues being a friendly pony. Notice how regardless of her experiences, and her thoughts on said experiences, her actual behaviour is (mostly) free of bitterness or cynicism, and that she doesn't hide the joy that her new friends make her feel. She's not outright ignoring her experiences or pretending they don’t affect her, because they clearly have affected her, and she's never ignored her scars (metaphorically and literally, the latter being a permanent side-effect of her condition), but she knows better than to let it consume her, so she tries her best to look at the bright side of life even during the darkest days.

It's Sonic's opinion that Trudy's inner spirit is a lot stronger than she thinks, with or without his help. Her refusal to give into misery and lash out at the world foreshadows that he's not unjustified in that belief. That, and it ties into the franchise’s usual taste for optimism and idealism against the odds.

4. Hadeer? More like Hadork.

So, everything thus far helps set Trudy up as a mellow, down-to-earth sort of personality. So far, so good. However, it's still the Sonic the Hedgehog universe we're talking about, filled with many colorful characters of all shapes, sizes, and eccentricities. When a franchise has a larger than life cast in a larger than life world, the characters who are meant to be grounded often risk coming off as boring and could end up easily overshadowed, because the creators or writers often neglect to give them any quirks of their own, usually out of fear that it'll disgrace the character's gracefulness. In fact, I personally feel this was a common problem with Sally, in both SatAM and Archie (mostly pre-reboot admittedly).

IMO, these writers are just being plain old silly. Just because a character is quirky doesn't mean they forfeit all their dignity altogether. Like a lot of things in life, you just have to balance it out, and that's what I did (or tried to do...) with the green equine.

So yes, Trudy is elegant, but she's also a really goofy dancer. Yes, she's gentle and motherly, but she also goes back and forth between being a heavy sleeper and being an insomniac. Yes, she serves as a warmhearted auntie figure for Cream (and a big sister figure for Amy), but she also spends a quarter of her time looking like a ninja with the way her bandana covers her face (whether it be due to cold weather, strong scents triggering her sensitive nose, or doing it in the presence of villains as a mildly theatrical way of visually conveying her disdain for them).

And of course, in the right situation, she can be just as much of a dork as the titular blue hedgehog is.

Which leads me to my next point...

5. “You might know everything I'm going to do...”

Trudy was created with the intention of having a character who is actually like Sonic himself in a lot of ways, but it's not apparent initially.

This sort of yin-yang contrasting routine has been done before a few times in the series, with Knuckles, Shadow and Blaze being the most obvious examples. But with them, their similarities are easier to spot from a distance. Knuckles is more earth than wind, but you can tell he's as stubborn as Sonic is. Shadow's methods and outlook differ, but you can tell he's still a mirror of Sonic (cause you know, he looks like him). Blaze is more distant, but you can tell how she can easily be just as worked up and angered as Sonic.

With Trudy however, if you take her at face value, you would think she's the exact opposite of Sonic. She's an introvert, he's an extrovert. She's got a calm temperament, he can get impatient even at the best of times. She's quite fancy, he's more rough and tumble. She takes things slowly, he leaps ahead without a care in the world... You would think that, outside of them both fighting for good, they would have nothing in common, and that their dynamic would be more akin to Sonic's relationship with Sally, which although they were friends, their relationship could often be somewhat rocky due to their differences in... basically every area and opinion imaginable.

But then you get to know Trudy, and the unfolding of the adventure reveals the rest of what she has to offer. The aforementioned soldiering on in spite of any depressed moments is in itself a small hint that Trudy shares Sonic's philosophy of never giving up. She believes that most people are good at their core, and while she won't excuse especially evil people or actions and will punish them appropriately (albeit with regret that it had to come to that), she's willing to give a chance to those who are willing to take it, just like with the Blue Blur. Not only does she NOT find Sonic's jokes and hijinks annoying, she actually has a similar sense of humor herself. And while reasonable people generally tend to loathe injustice and oppression, Trudy shares Sonic's uniquely intense contempt for it, and believes in one's own personal freedom just as much as the hedgehog does, let alone freedom in general.

In short, Trudy is what you get when you take Sonic's deeper qualities and general outlook on life, and apply them to a more introverted and taciturn personality. The exact same beliefs, but from a different perspective, so to speak.

6. A different kind of intelligence.

Tails and Eggman are the resident kings of scientific prowess in Sonic's world, and it goes without saying that I wouldn't want to do them a disservice by having Trudy one-up them in that department. But that doesn't mean your character can’t be talented in other areas, right? Contrary to what all those Mary Sue tests dictate, your character can in fact have a high IQ without intruding on an official character’s territory.

Therefore, Trudy is pretty good at innovation and craftsmanship in her own right, but whereas Tails and Eggman do it through technology, her field of expertise is more to do with arts and crafts, and to a lesser extent geology. For example, both her bow and her whip were crafted by the lady herself, using nothing but her decorative knowledge and flair.

Outside of that, she tends to know a fair bit about a lot of things in the world, largely attributed to her photographic memory, meaning she's bound to have a few answers no matter the subject of discussion. Granted, she's unlikely to be the absolute number one expert on any of those things, but she's at least a useful jack of all trades in that regard.

7. Feeling a little horse.

I very much approve and flat out adore the idea of Sonic characters having characteristics that remind the audience of what species they're supposed to be, so I made sure that Trudy had a wide selection of little mannerisms that would reveal her for the little horsie that she is. These include, but aren't limited to...

- When she’s fascinated or concerned by something, she’ll lean a little forward with her hands close to her chest, which subtly mimics the act of prancing.

- When she wakes up, she briefly stretches her arms and legs (albeit not too recklessly so as to risk straining her sensitive limbs).

- Her tail has a number of quirks. If she's happy, it might slowly swish to and fro. If she's REALLY happy, it might flick...

- And if she doesn't approve of someone or something, it might stiffen and raise a little bit, as if to helpfully inform the bad guys where they can kiss, if ya know what I'm saying.

- When she's being affectionate with her friends, she might give them the ol' nuzzle.

- When she's in a playful mood, there might be a little skip in her walk, the anthro equivalent of trotting.

- When she's annoyed, she might humorously let out a snort that sounds identical to a real life horse snort. And while she certainly doesn't neigh in the traditional sense, when she finds something hilarious or Sonic's making her laugh with his antics, her laughter can't help but take on a neigh-like touch to it. (The latter was actually a headcanon suggested by @darklightheart, and I immediately agreed with it because it's cute and funny in equal measures.)

Naturally, she gets all shy and embarrassed when the neigh-laugh comes out, thinking it sounds silly. At least Sonic finds it endearing.

Note that I'm well aware that some of this differs from how real life horses react to certain things. (Eg: tail swishing tends to happen when a horse is agitated rather than happy.) But I freely admit that it's more for the sake of giving the character that extra bit of soul than it is for utmost accuracy. That's the way it goes with fiction sometimes. :P

Interestingly, Trudy tends to get Sonic indulging in a funny hedgehog characteristic of his own. That being, he might curl into a ball if Trudy's being particularly... ~complimentary~ towards him.

And there we are! These are the core elements that make up Trudy’s characterization. If you ever wanted a general list of what makes her tick, then hopefully this post will help in scratching that itch. And if it doesn’t, then hopefully it still proves that more thought was put into her than Scourge. :]

#Lutrudis Hadeer #Sonic Character Design

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moonguilt · 5 years

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Voltron MMORPG AU: Chapter 2

alright here’s the next segment of overly elaborate headcanons. we’re finally getting some real klance lads

side note for people who dont RP: double parentheses ((like this)) indicate that the real person, i.e. lance or keith, is the one speaking. proper grammar is used for when they are making their original characters speak.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

finally, f i n a l l y, they are all playing voltron together

coran and pidge are still caught up in raiding and player-versus-player, but coran makes time on the side occasionally to act as dungeon master for the others, when they want to go on a particularly epic quest

meanwhile pidge adamantly proclaims they are all dorks, and when she attends their roleplaying sessions in-game, she insists that she is “only here to keep the high level elite creatures in this zone from killing you all while you're singing campfire songs like a bunch of camp rock dweebs”

when she eventually starts joining in on the roleplay here and there, under the guise of doing it “ironically,” no one comments on it

matt kind of gradually integrates himself alongside shiro. he shares absolutely none of pidge's qualms with the concept of RP, and in fact played a lot of dungeons & dragons as a teenager, so he manages to acclimate fairly easily

allura and keith both have a hard time getting into the idea of roleplaying. it strikes them as silly and they have trouble letting go of their dignity a little. lance whinges about them both having “major party pooper sticks up your butts come ONNN” but all the while, he is gently steering them in the right direction and subtly teaching them how to loosen up a little and immerse themselves in the fantasy world he has grown to love

sometimes they decide to hang out in heavily populated in-game cities together, where they can people-watch and build casual camaraderie among their characters. and perhaps interact with the occasional random player brave enough to approach their group's table in the tavern

“its not really OUR table” shiro points out one day when they walk into the tavern to find their usual seats occupied by other players

“YES IT IS” -keith and lance, in unison, approximately 29 seconds before their first RP bar fight

they decide eventually to create their own adventurer's guild so that they can easily connect with each other when they are online

shiro wants to name the guild “the paladins of voltron,” but pretty much everyone protests on the grounds of “shiro, you're the ONLY paladin in this guild”

the only exception is hunk, of course, who assures shiro that it is a very cool name, but perhaps they could just edit it slightly? maybe change “paladins” to something more class-neutral? like, “lions” perhaps?

yeah. yeah, “the lions of voltron” seems to work with everyone. whether that's because it's a good name, or because hunk is the one suggesting it, no one could tell you

as they all grow more comfortable with RP, their characters start developing bonds with each other

allura and matt, the guild's healers, hit it off swimmingly. they enjoy making their characters dramatic and exasperated with everything the others do. matt jokingly gives his character an enormous, embarrassing crush on allura's character just for the laughs

keith and pidge's characters both have dark, edgy pasts. pidge made hers extra dark because she wanted be funny, but keith seems to really enjoy the way their characters can bond over their shared trauma. she suspects there is an underlying reason for that and decides to never reveal that she intended for it to be a joke

the most interesting of all is, of course, the relationship between keith and lance's characters

everyone expects them to be rivals, to bicker constantly, etc

partially as a prank and partially because they think it would be fun to RP, they decide behind-the-scenes to make their characters the best of friends

“Oh, Keith, you are so strong and heroic!”

“I would be weak if not for the strength you gave me, my one true friend in this cold, dark world...”

“I am so glad I have a great warrior like you by my side...”

“You are my rock.”

“... even if you have a weird name.”

“((for the last time get off my case about the name, lance))”

“((literally never gonna happen. die mad))”

it starts to affect their relationship in the real world too, slowly, at first in the form of jokingly mimicking their characters' dynamic:

“oh, mighty keith, i require the salt on the other end of the table. would you please bless me with your aid”

“but of course, noble lance, i hereby entrust you with my sacred salt and place it in your skillful hands”

“illustrious keith?”

“yes, immaculate lance?”

“thats gay”

“fuck you”

R O M A N T I C T E N S I O N in the R E A L W O R L D

nobody fucking addresses it but everybody knows it's there. way worse than it ever was before somehow, which is saying something honestly. and it only gets worse as the days and weeks pass

“if I may say, good sir keith, you look particularly dashing today in this black ensemble of yours”

“why thank you dearest friend lance, i chose this specially to please you”

“then you may certainly consider yourself successful in this endeavour”

are they complimenting each other as a joke??? why do their eyes go half-lidded and their lips quirk lopsidedly when they shower each other in praise?? nobody knows

thats a lie. everybody fucking knows

no i never learned how to format tumblr posts. you will have to deal with my absolute trash aesthetic sorry

tune in next (and final) time for the most elaborate ridiculous speech i have ever written

#hope yall enjoyed #be sure to hit those like and subscribe buttons #see yall next time on:#'finn inserts her faves into an extensive au that only she can understand and subsequently gets no notes because the setting is too niche'#also known as:#'finn spends 10 hours on an au and 3 people find it moderately entertaining'#or simply:#'i am a dumb gay baby with easily injured pride'#rly tho if u read it THANK YOU i love you bye #and if u reblog it im going to personally come to ur house and kiss u #klance #vld #headcanon #video game au #this au needs a name somebody give me suggestions im bad at names #moonguilt content

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seirioscanis · 5 years

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{ low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline }

𝖖 𝖚 𝖔 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.” -- Albert Camus

“We are unusual, tragic, and alive.” -- Dave Eggers

“I have a very childlike rage, and a very childlike loneliness.” -- Richey Edwards

“’Are you implying that shreds of my reputation remain intact?’ Will demanded with mock horror. ‘Clearly I have been doing something wrong. Or not something wrong, as the case may be.’ He banged on the side of the carriage. ‘Thomas! We must away at once to the nearest brothel. I seek scandal and low companionship.’” -- Will Herondale, Clockwork Angel

“Many atrocities have been done in the name of the greater good.” -- Rhysand, A Court of Mist and Fury

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Sirius Orion Black NICKNAMES: Padfoot, Pads AGE: 20 BIRTHDAY: 3 November 1959 GENDER: Demiboy, not that he has the word for that PRONOUNS: he/they

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Walburga Black ( 55 ) FATHER: Orion Black ( 51, deceased ) SIBLINGS: Regulus Arcturus Black ( 18, deceased )

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Samuel Larsen BUILD: Slim and muscular HAIR: Shoulder length and thick, normally kept in a bun HAIR COLOR: Black EYE COLOR: Brown SKIN COLOR: Pale DOMINANT HAND: Right handed, teaching himself slowly to write with his left as well for the hell of it (note: the handwriting is still awful). ANOMALIES: a scar on his upper right lip, ironically a small cluster of star-shaped birthmarks on his left hip (which he hates), a few old cigarette burns on his knees SCENT: leather, old spice, barber shop hair gel, cigarette smoke, motor oil ACCENT: British ALLERGIES: slightly lactose intolerant DISORDERS: Major depression, generalized anxiety, PTSD due to childhood trauma FASHION: Punk rock baby, though probably a bit out of date compared to what muggles are wearing now. He took what he could get during school, and now there’s not enough time in the day to work, be in the Order, and go shopping. NERVOUS TICS: His body becomes more tense, and his eyes dart around the room to search for an exit (or several if possible). He also subconsciously takes a step back from whatever is making him nervous, occasionally messes with his hair to try and act casual (though he does that when he’s bored as well, so it has to be seen with one of the others to be considered a sign of his nerves). If he’s particularly high strung, he’ll lose his nerve completely and lash out, no matter if it’s good or bad for the situation at hand. QUIRKS: Like mentioned above, he messes with his hair a lot when he’s bored, usually pulling it out of its hair tie if up and vice versa if down. He paces when plotting, and purses his lips when he’s thinking considerably. When he’s particularly happy he’ll do a little jump, and he appears to be vibrating a little even afterward. When uncomfortable he’ll try to push that feeling off with either an argument or joke, again no matter whether one of those choices is the wisest at the time.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Plainview Points Apartments BORN: St. Mungo’s Hospital RAISED: Grimmauld Place, London PETS: n/a

CAREER: Auror-in-Training EXPERIENCE: He was part of the Hogwarts dueling club for two years before being kicked out for unfair sportsmanship. He also got a considerate amount of training in magic from an early age thanks to his family, and his mother in particular taught him a bit of dark magic--or tried to. Not that he would use the dark magic, but if push came to shove... he has a few tricks up his sleeve (or, at the very least, the theory behind some of the darker magics). EMPLOYER: Ministry of Magic

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Order of the Phoenix BELIEFS: Sirius, without a shadow of a doubt, believes that muggleborns and halfbloods deserve to be equal to purebloods. It took him years to believe he was allowed to have that thought process, but he grabbed onto it once he did. Despite the years of unlearning what his family tried to instill in him, it wasn’t all successful. He does still have a superiority complex, and most definitely thinks himself above squibs, muggles, house elves, and so on. It takes more effort for him to respect their opinions as equal to his own, and though he knows that’s wrong, it’s taking a lot longer than he’d like to unlearn that--if he ever can. MISDEMEANORS: Illegal animagus, chase down with James on Elvendork, driving underage on an unregistered motorcycle, his entire list of detentions at Hogwarts FELONIES: Nothing officially on record, so really he’s as innocent as it gets DRUGS: n/a SMOKES: Way too much to be healthy for his lungs ALCOHOL: Not nearly as bad as his smoking habit DIET: Generally unhealthy because he can’t be bothered to cook

LANGUAGES: English, Latin, Spanish, Italian, French, some German

PHOBIAS: Extremely loud noises, snakes, thunderstorms HOBBIES: Causing general mischief, reading what he can get his hands on, doodling (albeit a bit crudely) TRAITS: { + }: loyal, intelligent, observant, quick-witted, sociable { - }: angry, impulsive, insensitive, defiant, pessimistic

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: Potter Estate, Prewett Household, Hogwarts SPORTS TEAM: Tutshill Tornadoes GAME: Wizard’s Chess MUSIC: Punk Rock, Celestina Warbeck (not that he’d tell a soul) MOVIES: Has hardly seen any, but is fond of action movies FOOD: Thai BEVERAGE: Whiskey or iced tea COLOR: Dark green

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Gryffindor WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 8 3/4 inches, slightly bendy, yew, rougarou hair core AMORTENTIA: honeysuckles, vanilla, cigarette smoke PATRONUS: Dog BOGGART: His parents standing over him shouting; recently with Regulus by their side asking why he had to die

𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good MBTI: ESTP-T MBTI ROLE: The Entrepreneur

“ ESTPs are energetic thrillseekers who are at their best when putting out fires, whether literal or metaphorical. They bring a sense of dynamic energy to their interactions with others and the world around them. They assess situations quickly and move adeptly to respond to immediate problems with practical solutions. Active and playful, ESTPs are often the life of the party and have a good sense of humor. They use their keen powers of observation to assess their audience and adapt quickly to keep interactions exciting. Although they typically appear very social, they are rarely sensitive; the ESTP prefers to keep things fast-paced and silly rather than emotional or serious. “

ENNEAGRAM: Type 8 ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Challenger

” People of this personality type are essentially unwilling to be controlled, either by others or by their circumstances; they fully intend to be masters of their fate. Eights are strong willed, decisive, practical, tough minded and energetic. They also tend to be domineering; their unwillingness to be controlled by others frequently manifests in the need to control others instead. When healthy, this tendency is kept under check, but the tendency is always there, nevertheless, and can assume a central role in the Eight's interpersonal relationships. ”

TEMPERAMENT: Choleric

“ The choleric temperament is fundamentally ambitious and leader-like. They have a lot of aggression, energy, and/or passion, and try to instill it in others. They can dominate people of other temperaments, especially phlegmatic types. Many great charismatic military and political figures were choleric. They like to be in charge of everything. However, cholerics also tend to be either highly disorganized or highly organized. They do not have in-between setups, only one extreme to another. As well as being leader-like and assertive, cholerics also fall into deep and sudden depression. Essentially, they are very much prone to mood swings. “

WESTERN ZODIAC: Scorpio

“ Passionate, independent, and unafraid to blaze their own trail no matter what others think, Scorpios make a statement wherever they go. They love debates, aren't afraid of controversy, and won't back down from a debate. They also hate people who aren't genuine, and are all about being authentic—even if authentic isn't pretty. Because of all of these traits, a Scorpio can seem intimidating and somewhat closed off to those who don't know them well. But what people don't realize is that even though Scorpio may seem brusque, as a water sign, they also are very in tune with their emotions, and sometimes may find themselves caught up in their feelings. This leads to Scorpio's central conflict: Their feelings are what drives them and strengthens them, but their mutability can scare them and make them feel vulnerable and out of control. Because of this conflict, Scorpios, like their namesake, the scorpion, put up an outer shell and may seem prickly. But once people get beyond the shell, they find a loyal, loving person whose passion knows no bounds. Scorpio dives into all life has to offer with 110% enthusiasm. A Scorpio will be your most loyal friend, most dedicated employee—and your worst enemy, if they want to be. “

CHINESE ZODIAC: Year of the Pig

“ Pig is mild and a lucky animal representing carefree fun, good fortune and wealth. Personality traits of the people born under the sign of the Pig are happy, easygoing, honest, trusting, educated, sincere and brave. The possible dark sides the Pig people are stubbornness, naive, over-reliant, self-indulgent, easy to anger and materialistic. They are sometimes regarded as being lazy. “

PRIMAL SIGN: Squid

“ Squids are powerful personalities that can only be ‘checked and balanced’ by themselves. They are highly capable, intelligent individuals who seem to know everything. Generally good natured, they also have a hidden inner dark side which resides deep within themselves. No one is allowed into this secret place, often not even themselves. Squids will even try to bury painful truths within themselves in order to avoid dealing with difficult emotions and situations. “

TAROT CARD: Justice, High Priestess

“ Justice and The High Priestess have in common that everything is accounted for. Justice examines everything for flaws in order to find its flawless essence. The High Priestess knows the secret of everything as it is in order to encompass everything. Justice demands of everything its true nature and essence, with nothing concealed, withheld or distorted. It tirelessly weighs and measures, satisfied with nothing less than the clear, the absolute, and the irreduceable in everything. Justice is adamant and uncompromising with its sword and scales, loud and clear in its redness, fearless and certain on its throne, guarding the entrance to the temple of the secrets of perfection. The High Priestess finds what is the same in everything, the secret unifying core hidden in the endless variation of detail. She patiently discovers in all differences what is true, original and undisturbed in everything. The High Priestess is accepting and inclusive with her scroll and cross, calm and quiet in her blueness, fearless and certain on her throne, guarding the entrance to the temple of final knowledge. Unintegrated and imperfectly realized, Justice can be given to rage and haste; it can become arrogant and hypercritical, aggrieved and vengeful, or uncertain and vacillating. The High Priestess can be a conceited know-it-all, moody and taciturn, secret and unapproachable; she can be despairing and lost, or given to excess and careless of consequences. Together, they dream of the perfect, the ultimate, and pursue it in more than one kind of undertaking. They continuously seek the truth, and in its service they are drawn to esoteric studies and unusual paths. “

TV TROPES: White Sheep, Jerk with a Heart of Gold, In the Blood, Hot-blooded, Good is Not Nice, Cultural Rebel, Badass Biker SONGS: Gasoline, Halsey; The Future Freaks Me Out, Motion City Soundtrack; This is the End (For You My Friend), Anti-Flag; Hate Conquers All, Anti-Flag; Downtempo, Scouting for Girls;

IDEOLOGIES: - Actively cuts out everyone who was part of his childhood unless they’ve somehow proven they can be trusted again; he avoids his family at all costs. - The day he found out he was lactose intolerant, however mild, was a mournful day. He sulked about Hogwarts for about a week. - Legitimately tried to swim to the bottom of the Black Lake and see the giant squid. Never succeeded. - If you bring peanut butter anywhere near him he will chuck it across the room. He hates it. - Genuinely enjoys being a dog more than a human sometimes. Yes, he’s aware of the irony. - The only people allowed to make puns off of his name are James, Peter, Remus, Lily, and Marlene. He’ll get annoyed at anyone else who tries (also wise to avoid using the word serious around him for the above reason). - Keeps telling himself he’ll quit smoking someday. The likelihood of that actually happening is about slim to none, RIP to Sirius’ lungs.

#you don't have to be who they say you need to be -- { about }#dulcetask

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vampirethatcarlislegotbittenby · 5 years

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Lost and Found

Evans was the first one to introduce me to the equal wonders and horrors of what the internet contained. From weird social media posts and blog posts to stupidly long and weirdly detailed stories attached to recipes, as a team, we found so many stupid things to laugh at together. Being a poorer kid, I hadn’t had much connection with the internet before the early two thousands – but it didn’t matter that sometimes, I fucked up and searched the wrong things, causing many… less savoury sites to pop up sometimes, all full of ads and spammy links. Not that Chris cared, of course. He hadn’t cared about any of the times that I’d messed up, or knocked things over, causing priceless objects like his families entire china set to knock over when were kids, or sent in the wrong essay for one of his college applications. He hadn’t cared, and somehow had ignored or missed all my faults. So many memories, heartbreaks and stress, all throughout our childhood, high school, college and now, our careers and professional lives. So many times and so many memories… but now, we seemed to be drifting. I mean, I understood – I was some broke anthropologist, new to her field and he was a successful actor, starting to get bigger and better roles. Chris was always in my line of vision, my thoughts – how could he not be? He was my best friend, my most trusted confidante. Our whole relationship followed the exact cliché of the stereotypical drifting ‘high-school besties’ trying to keep in contact and remain close after the environment and whole drama of school, relationships and early adulthood. Chris noticed a lot of things throughout our friendship about me. The way I flicked my hair, or only really grinned at twisted jokes. Stupid, I know, to hold onto all the minor things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of life, and work but how could I not, when my heart so belonged to him. The only thing Chris didn’t notice throughout our early friendship was the fact that I loved him. I mean, I never had anybody but him, but he had so many other girlfriends and other surrounding friends. I was too awkward to really fit in with others, before I lost him, so I kept track of us, our friendship. Yeah, I knew others I was semi-friends with, but it wasn’t as if I was invited to anything of theirs outside of school.He never noticed that fact. Saying goodbye to our closeness, our friendship… it was, for the lack of a better word, heartbreaking.

Unsurprisingly, our totally different career paths caused Chris and I to drift. Not in a bad way, we just… stopped talking as much. I studied old bones and the structure of ancient societies, and he acted our false personas and scripts for a living. Anniversaries forgotten, birthdays left behind… the distance between us just grew and grew for so many weeks and months that eventually, I forgot his voice and the small quirks he had, and the silly rituals we would perform, like the tic at the side of his mouth that he had whenever he got excited or happy about an event or job or something like that, or the way we would dance and yell and celebrate together whenever it rained, no matter how long it was for. I forgot about those moments, those small things about us, and him, and I because of our stupid schedules and inability to communicate. And God, I regretted it so much. We’d promised each other, at our universities graduation that we’d keep in contact. We’ll keep in contact, we’d promised. Well, that hadn’t ended up happening, had it? I mean, looking back on the situation, it’s obvious – we could hardly catch up in person after graduation due to our respective hectic schedules and jobs. It’s a bit hard to keep in contact and stay friends when one person can’t talk in person and the other couldn’t talk over the phone, or online. We were so disconnected and fragmented that when it came to our ‘conversations’, one topic could drag on for days. I guess we just kind of gave up trying. We were both so surrounded by people, me on field and him always on a different and new set, but at the same time so alone. It hurt at the time, losing one of my closest friends, but distance and time, combined with our lack of communication, allowed us to lead such different lives and become such different people – for the most part, better I think, despite the feelings of missing another piece of ourselves over the years.

The years without Chris saw me become such a different person, it was almost hard for him to recognise me when I met him again. Four years had flown by, in a whirlwind of partners, drama, extra studying and new friendships and work opportunities for the both of us. We both had so much more of a safety net, and knew so much more about the ‘scary big, wide world’ as we’d both once perceived it. Not everything was so dependant on just each other anymore – even though I’ll admit that I’d once loved him, losing him wasn’t that big of a deal anymore. We were both so different – me, once a broke, socially-awkward butterfly, had finally emerged from her cocoon and had found other people just like her. Chris was successful, well known and while his personality was so different… physically, well let’s just say that he could still get it. I was so happy – in a stable job (finally!), with an apartment, friends and no pressing need for a man. My life was going well, in summary. Yes, sometimes work was stressful, or there was drama at home or in the friendship group or romantically, or there was a disappointing date or party, but that didn’t matter. It was overshadowed by the good. I was no longer the broken-hearted 22-year-old who was losing her best friend and romantic interest and was on the brink of financial ruin. I’d metaphorically dug myself out of that ditch. Life was mostly good, except for one small element – I didn’t feel like I had anybody to truly connect with. Not like I’d had with Chris.

Unexpectedly, it was at a party we reconnected at. I mean, yes, I was no longer uncomfortable in loud or crowded spaces, but at the same time, I didn’t quite feel totally comfortable at house parties or bars yet either. I still felt that I needed to get used to them a bit. I’d been dragged along to the housewarming party by a bunch of girls from my work that I was semi-friends with. Long story short, I was drinking punch, chatting to some other people from my work when Chris whirled around from a separate group and quite literally knocked into me. Luckily, nothing was left in my cup, otherwise I feel as if I would have punched him in the arm, regardless of who he was to me. I’d blinked, and stared at him, not comprehending who he was. Why the hell was he here? This was a party full of a group of nerdy anthropologists, archaeologists and other humanities-centred people who’s worked sometimes overlapped. What the hell was a distant famous actor doing there? Turns out he was just a plus-one of a friend who had been at the same university hadn’t wanted to rock up alone that night. Weird, the way that some circles overlap. On the outside… well, not much had changed. We still recognised each other, for the most part. Only minor things like haircuts and clothing styles were slightly different or changed. But on the inside? Personally? Our whole dynamic was different – we were both actual, working adults then – him, a distant star, me a lowly intern. Seeing him at that party… well, my heart cracked wide open. Memories, of our childhood, our teenagerhood, of the memories of camping, firelight, stars and smoke, of all of our secrets and myths and times spent together of the first twenty years of our retrospectives lives spent and spoken and whispered together, flooded my mind. The sounds of my friends talking faded into white static and the air tasted like distinct batter-acid taste of mountain dew for a few seconds before I snapped back into reality, and faced one of my oldest friends.

I may not have been sure beforehand, but when Chris smiled at me, and we started talking again, I knew while both of us were completely different in personalities, and interests and what we worked on, we still were very much the same in the way that we talked and acted. The coffee place that I had gone to loads of times in the past couple of years with friends was physically no different, of course, but to me it came to mean a whole lot more personally, just because of Chris. Numbers and tears exchanged, we agreed to meet up, as much as we could or at least once a week at that one location. Sounds stupid, I know, to always meet at one place when there are so many other places and locations to try but that local café was neutral territory, where we could catch up and get to know each other, a place to reminisce and remember as well as catch up. Plus, it had great milkshakes. And I fell in love all over again – with him, and his laughter and quirks and personality. Time had changed us both and our situations but had also brought us together again by one simple twist of fate or simple fluke. A few months after, I found out that well, he felt that way too. My emotions ran wild. Joy, sudden shock, laughing, crying. Overall, pure happiness over that. Finally, he’d really noticed me, and loved me in return. Our relationship became something different, but so much happier. Sunday mornings spent in the sun, weekends at the beach or random date nights mid-week whenever he’d drop back in town without telling me, taking a break from filming. Thought sets were so far away, and he was often so physically far away, we continued, marching on, not entirely forgetting what happened when you lost somebody you loved and reminding ourselves daily, to never lose contact. Being with Chris was like always being home – the constant feeling of safety, happiness and warmth.

Chris’ smile at that party reminded me, and our renewed relationship reminded me – it doesn’t matter where you are, or who you are, the opportunity to find somebody is not restricted to a small group, or an elite. It might be a random stroke of luck, or through dedicated searching, you can find what you have lost. There’s always the opportunity to reconnect and find those you have lost. Yes, you’ll fight, yes, you’ll lose sometimes or grow a bit more distant or lose a person, friend or loved one but that doesn’t matter, as long as you care – because there’ll always be a way back home, no matter the distance. After all, it only takes one question from the other party - Why don’t you come up and see?

@whiskey-cokenfanfic (sorry this is so late. I didn’t have connection I apologise so much anyway here’s my submission my alt is @theboningseason by the way this is just my personal thanks sorry sorry)

#wcnfbirthdaychallenge

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gotmeringinghellsbells · 5 years

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Hey there! Is there anyway you could write a Shiro x Adam Curtis story where Curtis has given his place to Adam on the atlas so he can be with Shiro and it’s the last night the three of them have to spend together before shiro and Adam leave for space? Thank you so much!!

Turning Things Around

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender

Characters: Adam, Curtis, Takakshi Shirogane

A/N: I got way to into this. Be warned, this is rather long.

Description: The Atlas is returning to space again for coalition propaganda five years after peace was brought to the universe. However, the Garrison only sees it fit to send needed workers on the mission, which means as few as possible. Such a decree causes slight issues within the Shriogane household.

The last few months had been stressful to say the least. The Atlas and Voltrn were heading back to space for a few shows and chekups in the name of peace and the coalition. As such, it was decided that no more than the required number of Garrison employees to operate the ship could attend. There was no point in sending more than a few workers, voltron, and Shiro.

However, with such a rule established, Adam would be left behind while not just one, but both his husbands left for space. Space used to be a thing of beauty, of wonder, of dreams….. But since Kerberos, since Voltron, since…. Everything that happened with his childhood sweetheart, Adam couldn’t let him go, not alone.

It caused a few fights already and so much tension. Both men were suffering and Curtis could see that. If he and Pidge trained Adam for the few programs he didn’t quite know for the Atlas…. He could probably work alongside Shiro in the bridge; In Curtis’s spot. It got the fights to stop when the arrangement was made, but it added whispers and secrets to the Shirogane household.

As much as the youngest trusted his loves and the militant strength that both machines had… he was anxious. He was going to be left alone for hopefully only two months, but he’d have very limited contact with the two. It was bothering him, a lot. Normally, the happy, talkative, sweet heart that Curtis was would lighten both his husbands’ day after a long day of work, but lately… Curtis would just come home, give a few kisses, take his dog, and walk up to the shared bedroom.

Conversations were cut in half, smiles were rarer and rarer to see, purple was gathering under the eyes, ad who knew how long it had been since Adam or Shiro had seen Curtis take Spice outside. Sure, they had piddle pads, but that’s not the point.

Curtis was suffering so Adam and Shiro wouldn’t. There was something wrong and tey both knew it. Sure, it had been about five years since the war ended, but all three had been impacted by it… which Adam and Shiro often forgot. Though Curtis wasn’t up-close and personal with death as his loves had, he was still impacted through his own turama. It wasn’t right… and Adam was having second thoughts. “He should go.”

Shiro looked up from the book before him, slightly shocked. The smell of fall lingered in the kitchen as Adam lit one of Curtis’s candles, allowing the scent of cider to intertwin with the cool, November night air. “What?” The crickets chirped loudly as the sink shut off, the tallest drying his hands. “It should be Curtis up there, not me.” Just because he was married to Shiro didn’t mean he automatically had the right to go. If he went, he’d need someone to cover for him for those months of absence.

Backing out would just leave him home for those months or having to wait a while before getting back to work do to rescheduling as they already had a replacement lined up to teach his lessons. The hero tilted his head a bit. He still didn’t understand what the fuss was about! “Adam, it’s only two months. You could boh stay home, I won’t b away that long.”

Placing the book down, Shiro moved to comfort his husband, only to be nearly shrugged off. “Takashi, whenever any of you go to space… it’s longer than the expected time….. And it’s never from planning. Something or someone always manages to throw you off course.” Shiro gave up on therapy after his first month of peace, it seemed pointless. He had Adam, and to him that’s all he needed when his PTSD surfaced.

He loved his husbands equally, he really did! But… Adam was his home. He had been since they were fourteen, his body just seemed to respond better to the older or something like that. He wasn’t sure but… regardless…. Adam took the therapy. He didn’t want to talk about it to anyone but Colleen though, but he’d taken up painting…. A lot of painting.

Scare after scare from Shiro’s chronic illness, thinking his main family was dead (Shiro and Keith), going to war with them, Keith going back to space for a while, Shiro’s PTSD and the horror tales he told Adam….. It was a lot. They could probably use from marital counseling at this point too, as there were a lot of barriers present between each one.

Curtis was willing to share his feelings, to actually speak when he was upset. He felt so safe with these two, not like his biological family environment. Each had gone through their own abuse overtime and Curtis was the only one to actually talk about it when the time was… needed or to really try to resolve things.

Adam and Shiro would just go to war and whoever caved first caved first. But Curtis had taken it upon himself to make sure both were happy, though he himself had become miserable. He already felt out of place in his new family, but refused to leave because… it felt silly too. Sure, he hadn't seen, done, or felt anything the other two had… well not the exact same. He came from an abusive home, he had his own turama!

But he just didn’t feel he could really fit into their family. He’d shared this the only time he’d gotten drunk, to which Keith and him both just kind of bantered about it until they passed out, but that was a few years ago. Adam could never get him to talk about it and Shiro, Shiro just wanted to hug him. It was an instinct thing since the war ended. It started with Adam and just kind of worked its way up.

It was a pleasant change, probably why Adam wasn’t pushing his husband away still. “Adam, nothing is going to happen.” It was pointless to reassure that, both knew it. When Shiro started to feel shoulder’s shake, he panicked slightly. Turning Adam, he pulled him into a tighter hug. “Why do you think we’re both upset Takashi? We’re afraid to lose you, to be alone without answers. I can’t do that again…. I can’t.”

He was trying to hold back his sobs, but it was pointless. “Adam, please, nothing is going to happen.” He wanted to make a joke or make him smile… just… something. “Hey,” he cooed softly. He tipped the soft chin up slightly to look into the other’s eyes. Cupping the scarred cheek, Shiro wiped away the tears fro the functioning eye lovingly.

“You really think anyone is going to stop us from getting off course, especially now that Allura’s a new mom and is leaving her kingdom under Coran? I wouldn’t be surprised if she obliterated any challenging ship in sight.” Right, other’s had a it a bit worse, huh. Adam ignored the joke and leaned into the comforting touch, pushing the robotic hand back against his other cheek.

“No, huh? Alright, well, your just pushing me to take drastic measures here, aren’t you?” Why couldn’t his husband be a grown up and not a man child sometimes? Adam sighed softly. “Maybe save that for after checking on Curtis.” It wasn’t so much a suggestion as a demand. The smaller smirked a bit before pulling Adam close. His robotic hand moved to scratch behind the hypersensitive ear, earning a squeak and weakening knees. “Or it’s also motivation to get going?”

“Nhhahahaha! A-All right!” The other shoved at him before moving away quickly. An idea suddenly hit him. It was clear even now that Shiro didn’t like to talk about things… like at all. Common interests, people’s days, normal stuff was fine but negative possibilities, the past, absolutely not. He hated it and would change and dodge the topic, never asking anyone else about their past.

Though, maybe he was like that before Kerberos given that Keith opened up to him without him asking. He seemed a bit shocked and off put when telling Adam that night. Regardless, it didn’t matter at the moment. Each man had their own dynamic in the family, had their own quirks. But they also had their own ranks and strings they could pull.

“You think you could call Coran and Iverson and see if they could change the top of the food chain’s mind?” Shiro looked to the clock, they had maybe thirteen hours until the “mission”. He sighed with a shrug. “I’ll see what I can do. I take it your going to have a more,” he was cut off by a nod. Dragging a hand down his scruff ending face, he nodded. “Yeah but… I can’t promise anything. They’re still mad you and Curtis swapped.”

Adam shrugged. “And? Your a paladin of Voltron, Takashi. Last time you pulled that card it got all three of us legally bound.” Ah yes, the reality of things. The former paladin sighed before walking off. “Uh huh, I’ll see what I can do.” The taller rolled his eyes before heading up the stairs. Curtis really hadn't left the room lately. He wasn’t sure where else he’d be so might as well check there first.

Sure enough, in bed were two lumps. The haze from the humidifier cast over them, mixing with the lights from the television. Was he asleep…. While watching “The Unnatural”? Adam frowned before walking over and lightly touching his husband’s forehead. No fever, that was good. As he pulled his hand away, brown eyes opened. “Hm?”

Oh, maybe he’d been simply resting his eyes? “Sorry, were you sleeping?” A head popped out from under the covers. A happy dog made a noise before both paws came out, hitting his daddy in the face. Curtis snorted with a small smile. “No, I’m awake.” A whine came from Spice as he demanded attention from his other dad.

Adam turned on the light before turning off the television so he could keep Curtis’s attention. “It’s our last night,” the professor started. It probably wasn’t the best way to but… might as well get to the point. Curtis nodded. “I know.” The bags under his eyes had gotten worse and more colorful. “You should go.” It was probably too late to switch things up now but you know what, these three had been through a lot! To only be able to choose one partner to go with was unfair to almost a moral degree!

“What?” Curtis rubbed his eyes a bit, watching as Spice freed himself to attack Adam as he climbed into Shiro’s spot on the bed. “I know how it feels and I’d never want to push that on someone else Curtis. I’m sorry.” The professor pulled the bigger dog into his chest, making him lay down as he received scratches and lovings.

“Adam, what’s done is done. I want you to go. You’ve been through this before and… it’s not fair. Your family is all going and it’s only right. I saw how you were when Keith decided to go back to space, I know how your anxiety is. Please, it’s not a big deal. I’m sorry I haven’t been… myself lately.”

The younger jumped a bit when a hand lightly touched his arm. Adam quickly pulled away before the other gave a sign that he could place the hand back. Doing so, he let out a sigh. “It’s hard to find the right words, I know…. But…. we love you. We don’t want you to be miserable.” The other sighed before rubbing Adam’s hand. “And Shiro’s PTSD? I can’t do anything about that.

“We both know I’m not that useful when it comes to that…. Stuff.” He sighed. “Your closer, and I know that. I understand I can’t be that close with either of you in comparison and… I shouldn’t compare… but unconsciously he knows your his home, your his protection. Your much closer with the paladins than I am and are better at rationalizing with Shiro when it comes to making certain choices, same with Allura. Your a co-captian and you can keep Keith in check. I can't do any of that Adam.

“I sit there and I do as I’m told. I don’t really voice my opinion as it’s not my place.” Adam looked shocked. He didn’t realize… even five years into them… that Curtis still felt so… alienated? Foreign? No, like, he didn’t belong. Moving Spice to the side, the older moved in closer. “Curtis?” The other sighed before laying his head back.

“Adam, I know my place in it all. I shouldn't word it like this but to visualize I rank under you. That’s not a bad thing, and that’s something I’m okay with. I’m part of this family, but I’m newer. You’ve had more of an impact than you realize. Keith would rather be with you than his mom, he listens to you and Shiro!

“He calls you when he’s upset or comes to see you when he’s having a hard time. Lance does the same, Hunk and Allura too. Your like… almost a,” Adam cut him off. “Just because I’m married to the ‘space daddy’,” he warned. It lightened the mood slightly as it earned a smile from both of them and a giggle form Curtis. “Space and Earth dads, it works.”

Was that so? Hands found the younger’s sides, earning a scream of surprise from the other. “Whahahit, thahaht tickles!” No, no, no, no! Curtis covers his face as he tried to roll onto either side… at the same time. As he rocked back and forth, Adam let out a small laugh of his own before stopping to climb on the other’s waist. “No, no, no! Adhahahadam!” Awww! Adam was laughing softly at the sight. Curtis looked so mature and grown up, yet he was more of a man child than their Takashi.

“But you laughing Curtis, isn’t that what you want? Don’t you want to be tickled by me, huh? Saying such negative things about yourself comes with punishment and you know it.” Adam raised a hand, no… a claw. It honestly was like watching Keith or Shiro at this point with how “trained” Curtis was to this action. He spazzed more, practically crying from joy. “No, no, no!” God, the professor loved him so much!

He leaned down and pried one of the protective hands away so that he could kiss the soft blush on the sun kissed skin. Curtis was just so beautiful! “I’m not ticklish,” he squealed out in anticipation, almost feeling fingers move closer to his ribs. His arms were dancing back and forth, trying to sheild his face and ribs at the same time. “Your not, huh? Could have fooled me.” He was met with a few odd noises, whines, and shrieks before the door opened to reveal a rather shocked Shiro. His face dropped as he rolled his eyes. Should have known.

“Hehehelp,” the youngest cried out softly as fingers came closer to his ribs again. Honestly, the majority of the time for tickling Curtis was just hovering over him. Shiro moved towards the end of the bed, poking at the socked feet that had burrowed their way out from the covers. “S-Shahahairo!” Both husbands smiled at the sight before Shiro started his point of entrance. “So, talked to Iverson,” he started before moving to sit on both ankles.

“Oh? Any luck,” Adam asked just wanting to get to the point. He lightly traced over the clothed chest, earning squeals and snorts. “Ahahahre yahahaou thahahwo sheheherious?!” Of course they’d just have a casual conversation while… oi. “Nhahhahahaht the thahahoes! S-Shahahiro plehehehase!” Both were hardly touching the hypersensitive bean.

“Well, yeah. I guess they had to reconfigure a few things and we were supposed to get word of it. Basically… it’s kind of like a free for all now. They had Curtis and you both under the list, and Spice and Coffee too. I guess Coran just decided everything without telling us.” Well, that was good news. “Wait, how?” Adam stopped, giving Curtis a bit of a break while Shiro kept poking at him.

“I don’t know. I guess Allura is bringing the twins and Lotor? Or Romelle or… someone? He sounded stressed and was kind of just skipping around with sentences. I guess the new head has kind of… got him going crazy.” None of the three had met the new head of commands yet. “Huh,” was all Adam could say before letting up on the poor man. He turned his attack on Shiro, pulling him off Curtis and kind of just laying on him.

“They just put the list out tonight so…. Yeah he’s stressed,” Shiro grunted as he quickly rolled him and Adam over to change spots. Damn his stupid strength! Adam struggled against him, wanting to wipe that stupid, sleepy smirk off his face. “Like someone else I know.” The struggle was mostly up as Shiro lifted Adam’s arms over head.

“I think we eased Curtis a bit, now… I think it’s your turn.” A new voice was quick to chime in. “Honestly, your all work and now play,” Curtis cooed tiredly as he crawled over to him. “Don’t you dare,” Adam laughed. He was so tired at this point. It was closing in on midnight now, all three were feeling the effects of the night. But…. rather than just tickling one husband again, Shiro had an idea. He lifted one of Curtis’s arms, quickly tickling under it as the other hand went after Adam’s ear.

“Sthahahaop it! Shiro,” Curtis squealed as he rolled over. He kept trying to roll away from the robotic hand, but it was no use. “It tickles, it tickles!” Shiro snorted as he watched him continuously roll away. “Curtis, what are you doing?” He stopped in fear of the other falling off the bed. The hand started to stroke the short, dark locks, earling soft mewls and whines.

Adam, meanwhile, was squealing and shrieking softly as he tried to enjoy the relaxing feeling. He was blushing deeply, more so when Shiro decided to start smothering him in kisses. “Nnnnmm hahahahahaha! K-Kashi!” Arms wrapped around Shiro’s neck as the offending fingers moved down to the professor’s back, supporting him as the smothering continued.

“There’s that smile,” Shiro cooed softly, earning a whine from the taller. “S-Shut up you dork.” Alright. Shiro shrugged before blowing a raspberry into his neck. The professor’s eyes widened before he let out a soft squeal. “Sthahahaop thahaht!” More fingers found their way against the most serious of the three. Curtis sleepily snuggled closer to them, fingers scratching at Adam’s ribs softly.

His smile was soft and loving, cracking a bit as the robotic hand lightly scratched under his chin. “Heheheh…. Shirooo.” Curtis stopped as he hid into the two. He was so sleepy and it was… so precious. Shiro smiled lovingly before letting up on them both. However, Adam wasn’t about to let the shortest get away with such a crime with out some kind of consequence.

He eased him in slowly, starting with a soft kiss which slowly turned a bit more heated. Making his way on top of the touch loving veteran, he straddled his waist lovingly. Looking over, the professor rolled his eyes softly, fighting back a smile. Curtis was down for the count and god did he look adorable. But if he was in a dead sleep, nothing was waking him…. Which meant Adam could be as ruthless as he wanted. Lovingly of course, of course! He wasn’t a bully, or was he?

Gray eyes widened before Shiro turned his head and covered his mouth quickly. He glared up at the older who smirked menacingly down at him. “What’s wrong ‘Kashi, can’t handle some of your own medicine?” Adam leaned down like a cat as he moved the robotic hand away from the shorter’s mouth.

“Your evil,” the younger laughed softly. Shiro wouldn’t deny that there was something fun about the child-like suspense; But feeling Adam’s loving touch almost made it easier to enjoy. A loud shriek echoed off the bedroom walls as hands dug into the thicker thighs. Tickling turned to wrestling, which ended back in kissing.

Finally laying down to rest for the night, a realization hit the hero. Sandwiched by two men he loved so dearly. Being used as a pillow, using the other as a body pillow….. He could never go to space without them. They made him feel so safe, so loved, so secure and warm. He let out a soft sigh, smiling as he closed his eyes. Space would be alright.

#hell answers #vld #2019 #shuram #curtis #adam #shiro #tickling #tickle #ticklish #tickle fight

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minaminokyoko · 5 years

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Captain Marvel: A Spoilertastic Review

Well, here we are. Our first female-led Marvel movie (unless you count Ant Man and the Wasp, which I kind of do because Scott was basically useless and Hope ran the whole movie like a boss, but too bad she ran the show on a dull, rushed movie). How does it measure up?

It's fine.

I'd coin Captain Marvel as good, not great. It's definitely a popcorn flick, in the same vein of Ant Man for sure in terms of where it fits in our giant pantheon of MCU movies. I'd rank it dead center, so slightly underneath Cap 1 and Thor 2, but above Doctor Strange. I think Ant Man is a good comparison for the tone and the enjoyment of this movie, although it does do more to characterize the main lead than Ant Man did for Scott Lang. To be fair, though, somehow they end up in the same spot for my personal rankings.

So let's dive in and see why.

Overall Grade: B-

Pros:

-Plenty of action. No shortage on that whatsoever.

-Lots of off-world adventures, for those fans who sometimes are annoyed that too many MCU movies are earth-based. We don't hit earth until about the halfway point and there are still some shenanigans then.

-The dynamic between Carol and Fury is a lot of fun. Larson and Jackson work off each other's energy very well and the banter feels fun and familiar without ever veering into any weird territory. Fury is just as effective as ever at her side, and it's before he becomes full on grumpy Dad Fury, so he's a lot less cold and it's fun to see.

-It was also delightful getting to see Coulson one more time, although it's a cameo, not a whole role as some of the trailers sort of imply.

-The female relationships are probably the strongest in the Marvel lineup, aside from Black Panther. Particularly Carol, her best friend Maria, and Maria's daughter. We don't see a ton of it, but it's just enough to put a huge grin on your face. It's very warm and endearing. I also like that Maria was not only a supportive best friend struggling to get over her loss, but she got to join the action as well, and it was badass. I really am happy with Marvel pushing forward to give black women more representation in the superhero genre. Too many folks think black women in film are only sassy best friends or baby mamas or Tyler Perry stereotypes. We love sci-fi/fantasy just as much as everyone else, and so I loved seeing two beautiful black actresses shining next to Brie Larson and Samuel L. Jackson. It lends the film a lot of heart.

-Brie Larson is relatively decent in the role. She has some moments better than others, but overall, she did a good job. It never felt like she couldn't handle the work of beating some ass, and she sold me far more than Gal Gadot did as Wonder Woman. Which, yes, I know, it's unfair and kind of tasteless to compare them, but I have to note it since I didn't care for the WW movie that this is what I was talking about with film presence. Gal Gadot, to me, looks like a supermodel wearing a Wonder Woman costume. To me, she never embodied the poise, agility, and strength that Diana has in the comics or in the animated series. I believed Gadot more during the softer parts of the WW movie, but she couldn't pull off the action because she just doesn't have the presence. Larson does, imo. She carries herself in a manner that makes me feel like she can kick your ass. She has a stance and a stature that allows me to feel her strength, and it's in line with other Marvel women like Widow, Okoye, or Scarlet Witch.

-My favorite part of the movie is hands down the "I'm Just a Girl" by No Doubt scene. Oh my God. I was internally squeeing and singing along with the lyrics while she kicked ass. I was so delighted to see them perfectly use that song that I already liked in high school anyway, and it just worked so well.

-I also liked the montages of Carol getting back up. That is a really, really important image for the girls growing up to see. It's not about how many times you fall. It's about how many times you still get back up. That's great. We fall and get dirty and scuffed and mocked and hated. But we still get up and try again every time. Love it. It's very empowering.

-The de-aging looked pretty good. Jackson is tougher since he's gained weight since the size he was back in the 90's but they filled in his wrinkles well enough. Coulson's looked better, although I did notice just it a tad bit during the stairwell scene, but overall, I thought it was well done.

-Gosh, her costume looks amazing. I want it. I want to wear it for Halloween. It's gorgeous.

-The sequence of the Skrulls acquiring her memories was very neat and uniquely done. Kudos.

-THE MOTHERFUCKING FIRST END CREDITS SCENE. Y'ALL. I SCREAMED. I SCREAMED AND CLAPPED MY HANDS SO HARD I HURT THEM. OH MY GOD. SHE'S ON EARTH. THE QUEEN IS ON EARTH AND WE SHALL ALL BE SAVED. SHE IS GOING TO TURN FUCKING THANOS INTO FUCKING PURPLE CLAM CHOWDER WITH HER BARE HANDS FOR KILLING FURY AWWWWWW YEEEEEEEEEEAH BOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII. Ahem. Sorry. I am really goddamn excited about that tiny piece of Avengers: Endgame because Marvel and the Russos have been so fucking stingy with details. We still don't know the plot. We only have that 30-second Superbowl spot and the Sad Stark trailer. I was livid they didn't give us a final trailer in front of this movie, but I guess with it a month and change away, they're just banking on us frothing at the mouth wanting more. Jerks. But anyway, yes, this fucking scene is mint and I wish I could rewind it.

-Nick naming the Avenger Initiative after her was a great cherry on top moment.

-I fucking lost it when Nick started singing “Mr. Postman.” Deadass, I just started listening to that song about a month ago thanks to that one famous Vine where those dudes sung it acapella. I was dying. You go, Nick.

Cons:

-This movie overall has a bit of a bland taste to it. It's most revolving around Carol. The problem is that I think they were too chicken to dive deeply into who she is and her personality and her desires because they were afraid the feminists would complain that they made her too soft, so they replaced it all with action. Which is fine, some people just want a girl kicking ass, but I think it did Carol and Larson a disservice by rushing everything and doing drive-by characterization. The dialogue doesn't stick as well due to the bland flavoring, for example. If you ask me who Carol Danvers is, I can't really tell you. I can tell you what she does, but not who she is. I regret that probably the most out of everything. This movie is a bit of a vehicle than a movie where we discover who she is. We discover what she is, but not who she is. She's kind of just every tough, stubborn, smartass female lead you could see in maybe an Avengers OC fic on AO3. She really needed more distinct quirks and likes and dislikes, and I really fault them for cutting out her life on the Kree planet. It would have shown us so much more about her if we knew what her Kree life was like juxtaposed against her original human life, and it could up the stakes and help them sink it, and give more immediacy and concern to the dangers she faced.

-The villains were telegraphed. Again, people ding Marvel for this all the time. It's because they seem to struggle with balance. Often, the villains are thin to cut down the running time by not developing them at all. It's a shame. I've always found Jude Law very entertaining and I think they should have given him something to work with other than Obvious Bad Guy Pretending To Be Good. It was so transparent, much like the bitchy sister villain from Incredibles II. He might as well have been twirling a mustache. I mean, any dude who tells you your emotions are bad is probably not on the up-and-up. And it would have been better to see him and Carol square off at the end in an emotional battle than for it to just be a cheap shot and a joke. But I digress.

-While there was a lot of action, aside from the "Just a Girl" sequence, I will forget it all by morning. I think they wanted the movie to have mass appeal, so a lot of it comes across as generic. The stuff that stands out more are bits like finally seeing what alien Goose actually was or some of Fury's quips and the bits with Maria's daughter and Carol. The action itself is serviceable, but I'd have liked it to have more flavor if possible.

-Not outlining the limit to Carol's powers. This is going to be tough lining up with Endgame because she's so god-like we're gonna wonder if she just bitchslaps Thanos and that's the end. She feels overpowered without the chip limiting her, so I would have liked them to give us some kind of idea as to how she won't just wipe the floor with him in retribution in Endgame.

-Nitpick: Nick losing his eye to Goose annoyed me. People called it. I didn't want them to be right, but ugh, they were. It was a bit too silly for me.

-Nitpick: They really didn't need to waste our time with the second end credits being Goose puking up the Tesseract. We knew he did. You didn't have to show it, dummies.

-Nitpick: Was hoping for some 90's era cameos from at least one other Avenger, but no such luck. Damn. What a letdown.

I had fun, and I am eager to see her fit into the rest of the MCU. And I am also selfishly even more interested in Kamala Khan someday popping in as the new generation of heroes. Please, God, give me Kamala Khan. I want her and my son Peter Parker to team up and be the cutest superhero dorks ever. But until then...God help us all. Endgame is coming.

Enjoy the sunlight coming off of Ms. Danvers.

Because it's finna get dark up in here, my children.

See you in Endgame.

Kyo out.

#captain marvel #captain marvel (2019)#marvel cinematic universe #mcu #movie review #film review #carol danvers

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nezanie · 6 years

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In your Arms - RWBY Fanfic

A/N: Keep in mind i’ve written this between (vol6) episode 5 and 6. I assumed whatever is attacking them, might affect the most stressed out among them, and it works slowly picking people one by one. Meaning some can sleep but not be the first affected, it targets. I could be wrong but it’s the premise I’m using to give monos some privacy. Another big change is that monos are currently flirting but haven’t asked each other out...yet...they’re unofficially girlfriends due to current circumstances.

P.S. RT you’ll have to pry ridiculously resistant to the cold Weiss from my cold, dead hands and when you do i will rise and say, “Nah, too bad buddy,”

Summary: requested by anonymous. When the going gets tough, Blake and Weiss try their best to be a comfort to each other. Set between vol 6’s ep 5 and 6.

Links: Patreon and Ao3. Please do give them a look. I’ll be releasing OC too! Links also on my blog!

Pairing: Monochrome, platonic Blake and Yang partner feels.

In your Arms

Blake followed Yang back to the living room with the fireplace finding Qrow by it’s door, he mumbled something about standing guard, Blake knew better than to question him. She eyed the bottles by the chair disdainfully, Yang’s shoulders tensed. They both knew he just wanted to avoid Oscar like the plague and the fact he couldn’t was starting to show. Yang wouldn’t look her in the eye and convinced her uncle to let her stay with him for the first watch. Head hanging, she didn’t have the strength to reach out and talk for fear of saying something even worse, she was perplexed by the whole situation. The urge the run stronger than ever, her one anchor came in a very strong thought, ‘I want to see Weiss,’

A waft of hot air enveloped her as soon as Blake walked into the room.The poor boy slept, or tried to at the very least, by the elderly woman’s side, they had made a makeshift bed with the couch and settled in with the blankets and pillows they found in the vacant rooms of the houses.Thankfully there were empty ones they could scrounge round some useful tools from. Ruby was snuggled at the foot of the couch already mumbling something even her heightened hearing could not quite catch. It seemed none of them was actually asleep even if they needed the rest, the shock still working its way through their veins. Ruby’s eyelids fluttered as she tried to keep watch on the door.

“Yang is keeping watch with your uncle,” Blake reported as she passed by the girl, placing her hand on her head, she couldn’t look at her and hope to be reassuring enough. She heard her mumble her thanks and she seemed to lose a little bit of tension, rigid posture relaxing a little as she held her legs to her chest a little less tightly.

Scanning the room her eyes, Blake glimpsed the person she needed to see the most and narrowed onto her. Weiss was peering out of the window, it was snowing pretty hard now, the white flakes rendering the visibility terrible. For Weiss it was a reminder that she was closer to what she should be calling her home. It made her stomach jump through hoops, the thought of what could happen when they arrived. The storms in Atlas were even more spectacular, she had always loved them, it meant nobody could leave the cosy walls of home, it had been a reminder of happier times that were no longer. When siblings would huddle together, young and naive and parents would close an eye on silly make believe play times. She tried to pull the blanket Blake had brought, a measly attempt to shield herself, suppress the memories and block out any intrusive thoughts.

Blake tapped her shoulder, she jerked hand moving for her rapier and stopped just in time remembering she laid it down. Blake smiled sympathetically, an apology forming on her lips as she offered Weiss the blanket in her hand. Weiss had to stop from gaping at the other, her timing impeccable. She wondered if Blake had known she was starting to feel lonely as her thoughts swarmed her. She smiled tenderly up to the taller girl, reaching up to rub her thumb gently along an eye, they were red. Had she been crying? ‘No, she holds back far too much,’

“I thought we could wrap up together, a warm burrito,” she joked weakly keeping her voice low. Weiss nodded, she preferred to keep their occasional rendezvous private, however this was not the time or place to seek some time alone. And frankly she didn’t care, she wanted to stick to Blake as much as possible tonight. This place was testing her nerves, and she was certain that Ruby was at her limits, Weiss didn’t need to become another burden on the younger girl’s mind. The events of the day broke through their resilience, the need for one another too strong.

They found a corner away from the others, the fireplace kept the whole room warm, the two felt like they were toasting if they got too close. Weiss was practically steaming after she had been huddled in front of it. Bundling up in the two blankets, and stuffing some pillows they found behind them, they managed to make a nice nest they could share in their secluded spot where they could easily see the others. They slumped against one another, trying to get some well deserved rest. Something egged them, a thought at the back of their minds and it prevented them from being lulled to sleep from their shared body heat.

Blake peered at Weiss mimicking her frown as she noticed how intently she had been glaring at their feet enveloped in their blankets. She seemed transfixed up until her eyes fluttered and she glanced up at Blake, they held each other’s gaze for a moment. Weiss’ furrowed brows loosened and she smiled causing Blake’s own lips to twitch, her hand pressed gently against Blake’s cheek thumb running carefully along the red, puffy looking eye again.

“What’s wrong?” she said keeping her voice low so not to disturb the others from sleeping.

Blake leaned into the touch, it felt warm against her cheek and she marveled at how quickly Weiss had recovered from the freezing weather. She’d been trying not to hold back the tears for awhile now but it must have shown on her face, “It’s not-.” Her dismissal was cut short by Weiss’ reproachful expression and with a deep breath Blake exhaled shakily feeling the ache in her throat relent for just a moment.

“I just...keep messing up,” she admitted whispering back, her eyes drifted to the door. Her head throbbed, a migraine threatening to make her night even more miserable. Weiss followed her gaze and pursed her lips, she moved to snake her arm around Blake’s waist, “I’m listening if you want to vent,”

Blake felt her eyes burn, relief flushing over her as she nodded, she pulled Weiss closer perhaps a little too eagerly and carefully tapped her head against hers. In the midst of the hushed retelling, their free hands entwined between their laps and Weiss rubbed soothing circles with her thumb, humming every now and then showing Blake had her attention. Blake was surprised how nobody had hushed them or perhaps she was being too paranoid, the crackling of the fire echoing across the room, their whispers the only other noise she could percieve.

“Is it that bad?” Blake asked nervously, noting how Weiss face had been all scrunched up by the end. She hoped it was because she was lost in thought.

Weiss faltered a little, approaching the subject as delicately as possible, “You know how Yang used to show off a bit when Ruby was involved?”

Blake nodded, listening intently. “Well, I say show off, but it was more like she kept an eye on her, and she did the same for us even before our team dynamic.... umm, let’s say, improved,” Weiss continued trying to see if her point was getting across. One of Blake’s faunus ears drooped as she concentrated on the meaning behind Weiss words. It looked like Blake was following, her expression soured. Weiss squeezed the hand in hers emphatically.

Weiss brought their hands towards her chest and followed it with a kiss on the back of the others hand. “I think you just used the wrong words, even if you were meaning well, and I’m positive you did, Yang might have reacted like she did because you hit the nail on the head,”

“I just wanted to tell her I’m all here,” she nuzzled into Weiss shoulder, feeling contempt for her own dumbassery. “That I’m not going to run anymore, I want everyone to count on me,”

Weiss remained silent, contemplative, for awhile. With a nod she spoke sternly, “Yang’s still trying to get back up on her feet, she’s hiding a lot from us, and she’s scared of being a burden, being told she’d be protected probably came as a shock,”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to mellow it down for me,” Blake mumbled pathetically kissing her shoulder appreciatively. Weiss leaned in to reciprocate, placing a kiss to anywhere she could reach really, right now it was her cheek. Blake wouldn’t look at her yet and Weiss squeezed her eyes shut trying to keep her cool. It always felt like Blake was able to slip away even when she was present.

“Okay then, that was pretty insensitive of you,” she muttered brazenly earning a small groan. “I’m not mellowing it down, just for the record,”

Blake moved away, her eyes seemed a little watery, “What should have I said then?”

“Maybe shouldn’t have let your guilt speak for you,” Blake visibly winced, Weiss really was going in for the kill now, “Blake, you should just try a little bit less hard, as strange as that sounds,” she suggested without mulling too much over it, it was a delicate situation and she had faith in their bonds nonetheless, “Yang is very capable of asking for help when needed, unlike others,”

Blake sucked in a breath at the jab looking guilty as charged, she had no excuse. Weiss was right, from the moment they had been partnered, she was used to seeing Yang on the front lines, she always had their backs on the battlefield and out. Just like Weiss, who went above and beyond in a different manner, she had come to know their quirks well. Blake always marveled at how observant Weiss was among her many other qualities. Ever since she’d come to terms with the intricate relationship of her family’s relationship with other people, especially Faunus, Weiss never stopped striving to improve. Blake wished she could share a little bit of that courage with her. It certainly inspired her.

“Alright, I’ll work to tone it down,” she conceded, her shoulders felt a tad lighter now that she had a plan of sorts. She was determined to listen to Yang instead of having her guilt move her actions. Her fear was nowhere near qualmed though. “Easier said than done,”

Weiss smacked her chest with their hands interlocked, and Blake cleared her throat, “I mean, I’ll do my best, promise,”

“Good, it’s how people stuff work when you do care,” Weiss looked a little bit full of herself, she dried Blake’s eyes gently dabbing her sleeve. Blake rolled her eyes quickly planting a kiss on her neck and snickering as she jerked at the contact. Weiss narrowed her eyes, her look reprimanding but didn’t stop her from pressing their lips together.

“Gosh, you can be so silly sometimes,” Weiss clicked her tongue trying to lighten the mood. Blake wasn’t wrong, forming a bond with another person was not easy let alone calling them partners. There was little she could do but encourage them and support them. She welcomed Blake’s affection, giving her as much leeway as possible.

“You’re not cold anymore are you?” Blake asked in between kisses. Fully aware about being coddled, she felt heartened by the way Weiss was pushing her. Maybe it was this place that was making them feel too vulnerable.

Weiss shook her head, “My aura’s recovered now, so it’s not a bother anymore,” The food and shelter from the harsh winds had made quick work of her expended aura, now she just felt abominably drowsy, her exhaustion another matter entirely. The cold on the other hand was a mere inconvenient memory.

“Yeah, your lips are really warm,” Blake’s own felt cold in comparison, “Guess you’ll have to warm mine up,” she giggled, cheeky grin causing Weiss to pout.

“I thought we were going to tone down the flirting,” Weiss puffed her reddened cheeks, the fire looking like a mightily interesting sight at the moment. Blake was immediately peeved by the remark, it was true they had decided to prioritise their mission and agreed to avoid acting like a lovestruck couple. They weren’t even officially dating yet, courtesy of Adam’s short visit to Beacon, and Weiss’ father flying her to another continent. It had seemed the world was out to seperate them just as Blake had garnered some courage to ask the fateful question.

Blake mock growled, perhaps slightly annoyed, questioning exasperatedly, “We’re stuck in an abandoned farmhouse, in the middle of a raging snowstorm with a setting that could give the most critically acclaimed horror movie a run for its money, and ...you’re bringing that up now?”

Weiss cleared her throat, bashful, “Then, I suppose, I’ll conveniently forget about it as well?”

Blake’s smile radiated joy, ears flickering in earnest, “Good, because it’s your turn to share,”

Weiss grimaced, taking a deep breath, “Am I that transparent?” Blake raised her brows, Weiss laughed weakly, shaking her head in resignation. Blake knew her too well.

“I’m not sure if I’ve already said so, I just really, really, really, don’t want to go back to Atlas,” she said trying to emphasize to the best of her abilities without raising her voice. Blake hummed encouragingly rubbing Weiss side in comfort. The ex-heiress had implied her distaste on their destination yet Blake couldn’t recall if she had ever mentioned that she didn’t want to go quite as fervently. Hopefully admitting it had helped her lose some tension, although Blake doubted that would solve everything.

“It’s exhausting just thinking about it,” Weiss whined, trying to swallow her frustration but the ball in her throat hurt even more, “My father might jeopardize this mission just to get at me, my gloating brother is a pain, and…Salem...” Her mind spun around all her insecurities. Had Winter caught news of her escape? Had she been able to track her after the crash? Had her father found out Klein assisted her escape. Would he hurt Klein? She was trying her best not to think about their reaction, consequences of her own actions. And then there was her mother, Weiss suppressed a dry chuckle, she wasn’t even sure if the woman remembered her in the haze of her drinking.

“I’m sure your sister’s alright,” Blake pulled her into a hug, almost forcing her on her lap, Weiss didn’t seem to mind and welcomed the closeness. They repositioned, hugging each other, and Weiss found herself listening intently to the beat of Blake’s heart which jumped a little at the contact. She felt a little smug knowing she had this effect on the usually quiet girl. Her head fit snugly in the crook of Blake’s shoulder.

Blake knew her words weren’t the best comfort, they didn’t know what was going on after Atlas shut itself off. They couldn’t solve each others problems by merely talking it out, it didn’t mean the support wasn’t needed, it spurred them and gave them hope that things would turn out just fine. Weiss stifled a yawn, humming appreciatively of their shared warmth, it was a different kind of lovely than merely not being cold. She felt Blake relax under her as she rubbed her arm lazily. Blake’s chest rumbled and she reciprocated massaging the knots from her back where she could reach.

“I hope you’re right,” she sniffled a little, admitting it had done her good, the itch in her throat seemed to be fading a bit at the very least.

“I’ll be with you all the way,” Blake promised, it almost felt like she needed to say it, to make it real. Weiss knew Blake’s biggest fear was disappointing them. Disappointing her most of all. “We all are, think about that, it’ll help,”

“Thank you,”

Weiss drew comfort from those words. Concentrating on the fact she had trusted friends this time around improved her mood. ‘I’m no longer alone,’ and that small thought seemed to dissipate some of her insecurities although her concerns about the group’s fate in Atlas i her presence still troubled her.

“We’ll just have to focus on meeting Ironwood,” Blake added, dodging the mention of Salem indirectly. “He might have a few ideas, he’s got all that innovative tech, maybe something that didn’t exist before he asked Jinn could do the trick,”

“Maybe we don't have to destroy her, we could talk to her, she seemed pretty normal...up to a point,” Weiss bit her lip uncertain, could Salem’s true self still be intact after having jumped into that black grimm pool? Even as she said it, she felt a bit foolish, however she needed to cling to hope no matter how small.

“That would be nice, if we could all talk it out,” Blake whispered, it was sweet of her to go along with her ramblings, her free hand patting the tears that managed to escape Weiss self control away, “Just like we did, sorta, I mean Salem’s got the white hair too,”

Weiss gave her a deadpan expression clearly unamused even if a smile tugging on her lips, peering up to a sheepish Blake, and squinting accusingly, “Haha, very funny, Sun’s atrocious sense of humor must have rubbed off on you,”

“Ouch,” Blake feigned hurt, nuzzling into Weiss and squeezing her into a bear hug. It was the least she could do, since she couldn’t offer advice, she’d give her as many hugs as she could spare for the night. Tonight, they could be girlfriends and tomorrow they’d turn back into huntresses.

“Ah, I’m all sore and worn out,” Weiss grumbled squirming into a more snug position in Blake’s arms. Blake helped her settle in wiggling into the pillows behind her and hoped they’d manage to get some sleep. Her mind was still whirling from all the events of the past few hours. Weiss on the other hand seemed pretty much at her limit, eyes already closed and her breathing steadily getting lighter. It was a little bit unfair of her to take advantage of the situation yet she felt the need to get it off her chest.

“Weiss?” she called, a grunt greeted her, “Thanks.” The sleepyhead could only murmur approvingly, words too incoherent for Blake to pick up. She tried again.

“Weiss?” this time there was no reply.

Blake watched her expressions for awhile, the stress of the day forgotten, shielded by the depths of her dream. It was a little greedy, by Blake hoped she was apart of them. Blake wet her lips feeling oddly nervous even as Weiss slumbered. Her voice might have cracked she wasn’t sure, her heart was pounding too loudly.

“I love you,”

It was the first time she’d said it out loud, Blake liked the sound of it and it felt good to word it even if the guilt of not being brave enough to say it when her significant other was awake stung. There and then, Blake made an oath, once this mess was over, she’d tell Weiss when they were both able to confront their feelings for on another. And she hoped against her fears that Weiss would greet her with the same words.

#monochrome #checkmating #rwby #rwby fanfic #weiss schnee #blake belladonna

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