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minisugakoobies · 1 day

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Cross My Heart | KMG

Pairing: Mingyu x GNReader (afab)

Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, friends to lovers (?), non-idol!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: pussy drunk mingyu, late night texting, biting/marking, fingering, lots of flirting, lots of teasing, grinding/dry humping, dirty talk, cunnilingus, face sitting, come eating, hand job, mingyu's a messy boy, OC is needy and mingyu loves it, mingyu has maybe the tiniest bit of a praise kink, use of pet names - pretty, mingyu requests death by pussy

Word Count: 5.2k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: Your crush Mingyu wants (to eat) you.

Text Prompt: You: I can’t stand you Mingyu: Then sit on my face

A/N: Hiiiii I'm writing for svt now and I'm starting with Mingyu because he's driving me insane. This is actually the first in a planned series of 13 svt fics based on text prompts. I'm fully in my self-indulgent era, so this is for everyone who, like me, needs some munch 'Gyu right about now 👅

Unbeta'd as usual. If you like this and want more svt fics from me, please let me know! I'd love to hear what you think (but please be kind I'm fragile 🥺) 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

It’s finally here. After months of planning, you and your friends have flown halfway around the world for a week of vacation. The six of you arrived just a few hours ago, and after the long flight, the long wait at the airport for your luggage, and the long drive to the hotel, you’re exhausted.

Well, mentally you’re worn out, at least. Your body? Is still on your old timezone, where it’s currently tomorrow morning. So it thinks that you need to be awake, even though it’s night where you are. You had stayed awake the entire flight here in order to avoid this very problem.

Fucking jet lag got you anyway.

Unlike you, Seungcheol and Vernon are having no issue sleeping. The three of you are sharing one room, while Minghao, Wonwoo, and Mingyu are sharing another. You glance over at the two lumps tucked in their beds, snoring away like you would be if your body wasn’t so confused.

Because you’re trying to be a good friend and let them sleep, you’re lying on your bed, scrolling lazily through your various social media apps. You could watch something, but you don’t really have the focus right now. Yet you want something pleasing to look at. Something to mindlessly enjoy while you wait for exhaustion to overwhelm you.

So, naturally, you turn to your favorite nightly pastime - scrolling through your social media apps, looking for any new posts from Mingyu.

It’s an addiction, borne out of your raging crush on your friend. Well, really, he’s Minghao’s friend, you don’t know him as well as you do the others, but still. You’re friendly enough around each other. Which is because Mingyu is so nice, such a sweet and funny guy who always makes you feel more than welcome whenever he’s around.

He’s also a blatant flirt. At first, his cocky smiles and playful words made you think he might be interested in more than just being your friend, but it wasn’t long before you realized he’s like that with everyone. So you tamped down the hope that burned in your chest, leaving only a simmering crush to smolder forever.

It’s morning back home, where most of your friends have barely started their days, so your feed is fairly dead. There are a few photos from Wonwoo from the flight, including one of Minghao sleeping with his mouth open that you immediately save to your favorites, a couple from Vernon, and, of course, several from Mingyu. You tap into his page.

Mingyu’s an avid photographer, particularly of beautiful things - breathtaking landscapes, delicious meals, himself. Mostly himself, to be honest. Not that you’re complaining. It’s maybe the most mutually beneficial relationship you’ve ever been in. Mingyu loves to provide pictures of himself. You love to admire them. A win-win all around.

You tap back to home and refresh your feed. A new post appears, from Mingyu. The jet lag must be getting to him, too, if he’s awake and posting right now. The photo is another selfie, this time of him lying in bed, one arm resting behind his head, showing off a perfectly sculpted bicep. God. Could he be more gorgeous?

Clicking into his page again, you rub your thumb over the screen to make his photos flip by in an endless parade of hot Mingyus. It’s ridiculous, you muse, watching picture after picture roll by, to think about how much time Mingyu must spend on these photos. Making sure he’s got the perfect lighting to bounce off his muscles just right in those gym selfies. Or figuring out the best angle to show off that sharp jawline of his. Just ridiculous. And yet, every second isn’t spent in vain, considering how the photos drew you in like shiny trinkets to your magpie eye.

It would be so easy to think of Mingyu as a modern day Narcissus, endlessly snapping selfies, drowning in his own reflection on his phone. But he’s never struck you as conceited. It’s something else - a desire for connection, perhaps. A need for-

A tiny heart floats up your screen and you gasp. Shit. You just liked the post the scroll stopped on - one of his many gym selfies, frame zoomed in on his torso, his hand clutching the bottom of his shirt to show off his rippling abs.

Your eye drifts to the date of the photo. Posted eight months ago.

Quick as lightning, you hit the screen again, shattering the little heart icon. Your pulse is beating too fast. There’s no need to panic. He couldn’t have seen that. Maybe you’re overreacting, but no one needs to know you’re lurking in his profile in the middle of the night, especially not him.

A notification drops down over Mingyu’s face. A message.

Mingyu: Someone’s up late.

Ah, damn. You were too slow. And now he’s in your DMs.

After taking a moment to shriek quietly into your pillow, you write back.

You: Can’t sleep

Mingyu: Same. Jet lag’s got me fucked up

Mingyu: You know what always helps when I can’t sleep?

You: What?

Mingyu: Creeping through someone’s old photos

Even though he’s not here looking at you, your neck flames with embarrassment anyway. You could play it cool. If only you knew how to do that.

You: Shut up

Mingyu: It’s ok, I’m flattered

You: Oh fuck off

Mingyu: No really, I am

Mingyu: I like that you want me so bad

Pressing your mouth firmly into your pillow, you swallow another screech. Here we go. Right into the flirting. You can’t handle this right now.

You: Idk what you’re talking about

You: It was an accident

Mingyu: Oh you were accidentally admiring me?

You: How did you even notice? Are you just staring at your phone, waiting for attention?

Mingyu: I mean yeah

You snort.

You: You’re ridiculous

Mingyu: Maybe. But I’m honest about it

You: I’ll give you that

A few seconds go by, then a minute, then two. Maybe you’re boring him. Maybe he’s found something else to entertain him. Or someone else.

When the next notification comes in, you jolt a little.

Mingyu: What else will you give me?

And now your heart does a funny jump as you stare at his words. God, what a question. How you wish he were asking for real, and not just being playful, like he always is.

Would it be too real to reply with the truth? “Whatever you want?”

You: I don’t know

You: What do you want?

Mingyu: What if I say you?

Suddenly you don’t understand words.

You: Why would you say that?

Mingyu: Because it’s my answer

Mingyu: I’m being honest again

You: That’s the jet lag talking

Mingyu: Oh come on

Mingyu: You really don’t know?

You: Know what??

Mingyu: How I feel about you

Is he being serious right now??

You: If this is a joke I don’t get it

Mingyu: Not a joke

Mingyu: Hold on

The notification icon on your app suddenly lights up. One heart. Two. Three four five. You open your notifications and immediately start laughing. Mingyu’s going through your oldest photos and liking them, one by one.

Mingyu: See? I’m obsessed with you

Seungcheol grunts in his sleep, and you press your arm harder over your mouth, trying to muffle yourself better.

You: You’re so annoying, oh my god

Mingyu: So annoying that you can’t stop looking at my photos at 1 am?

Mingyu: Or flirting with me?

You: Is that what’s happening? Are we flirting?

Mingyu: Ok don’t act like you don’t know

Mingyu: I flirt with you all the time

You: You flirt with EVERYONE all the time

Mingyu: Yeah but I only mean it with you

Like any other time this happens, any time his words make your head spin, you put on the brakes, stopping before you start to believe you might have a chance.

You: You’re so dumb

Mingyu: Are you really going to pretend you’re not enjoying this?

You: Who said I’m pretending?

Mingyu: Me. I know you’re loving this

Mingyu: Because you want me soooooo bad

You: Shut uppppp

Mingyu: Go on, yell at me

Mingyu: You’re cute when you’re mad

You: No really

You: I can’t stand you

Mingyu: Then sit on my face

Your mouth falls open, an amused huff of air escaping in a befuddled laugh at his unexpected response.

You: What?

Mingyu: Come shut me up. Sit on my face.

You’re blinking so hard, you can hear your eyelids clapping together.

You: Fuck off. Stop playing.

Mingyu: Who’s playing? I’m serious

Mingyu: Smother me with those gorgeous thighs of yours. I’ll go out a happy man.

Your gorgeous thighs? He’s never said anything like that before. What the fuck is happening.

You can’t help but picture it - him lying on his bed, you kneeling over him, fingers tangled in his dark hair as you ride that pouty little mouth of his. It’s not the first time you’ve fantasized about it, but it’s the first time the vision has felt… possible.

Mingyu: No response? You’re just gonna leave me hanging like this?

You: Don’t tease me

Mingyu: Trust me, there are a million ways I’d love to tease you, but this isn’t one

You lay down again, rolling onto your side, curling in on yourself, like you’re trying to contain all the excitement rushing through your veins, keep it from spilling out and over into the room where your friends are still sleeping.

You: You’re really serious?

Mingyu: Cross my heart and hope to die

Mingyu: Between your legs

Again you laugh.

You: You’re such an idiot

Mingyu: Does that mean you’re not coming over?

You: Like right now??

Mingyu: Why not?

Mingyu: Wonwoo and Minghao both slept on the plane. They went out exploring

Mingyu: I’ve got the room to myself

You bite your lip, a little harder than you normally would, the sharp sting confirming that you are not dreaming and this is, in actual fact, happening right now.

You: I guess if I’m not sleeping anytime soon

In the dim light from your phone, you eye the path to the door. You can easily make it out of the room without waking anyone. Should you so decide.

You: I could come over

Mingyu: I promise I’ll make it so good for you

Mingyu: Eat that pussy like you deserve. Make you cum on my tongue over and over

You inhale sharply. He’s definitely never talked about your pussy like that before. Reading his words has you positively throbbing.

Mingyu: Please, just let me taste you

What else is there to say to that but -

You: I’m coming over

It’s a short walk to Mingyu’s room. A rush of anticipation hits you as you raise your hand to knock. It doesn’t take long for the door to open, bringing you face to face with the man whose social media you can’t stop stalking. Mingyu’s shirtless, grey sweatpants hanging alarmingly low on his hips, and if you weren’t already planning on crushing him with your thighs, this insta thirst trap of an outfit would push you right over the edge.

“That was fast,” he laughs, stepping aside to let you in. “Did you run down the hall?”

“I thought I told you to shut up,” you shoot back.

“And I thought I told you to make me,” he smirks, reaching for you at the same time you reach for him, practically mashing his teeth against your lips as he pulls you in for a kiss. Despite what he just said, he’s kissing you, too eager to wait for you to do what he demands.

It’s rough and messy, all teeth and tongue, both of you doing your fair share to keep the other silent. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say speechless, because Mingyu’s definitely not being quiet, moaning into your mouth, and you’re certainly whining loud enough for the other rooms to hear you.

He presses you back into the door, chest to chest, hip to hip. You tilt your head and he follows, chasing your mouth, as if he’s needing another taste. Your hands roam over his biceps, his shoulders, his neck, covering every inch of warm skin that’s exposed, and he slips his arms around your waist, holding you impossibly tight. Not for one second do your lips part. This is the type of kiss you’ve always read about in your favorite stories - the one that makes your knees weak, makes your head float, makes you forget everything but Mingyu.

It’s delicious. It’s amazing. It’s every superlative you can think of. But it’s not enough. You want more. Part of you wants to tell him to get on with it, take you to bed, because you’re here to make him eat his words by eating you, but the other part isn’t about to quit kissing him any time soon.

Thankfully, Mingyu takes care of your dilemma by eliminating the choice. Without warning, he bends his knees and lifts you, big hands secure on your thighs to hold you close to him. Okay, now it’s like one of your stories, the way he lifts you like you’re lighter than air. You’d swoon if you weren’t so busy licking into his lips. All that time in the gym is really paying off

He carries you to his bed, displaying his impressive thigh strength by slowly lowering himself into a sitting position, bringing you into his lap. You loop your arms around his shoulders, desperately seeking his mouth, as if the 0.2 seconds between kisses might kill you, which, honestly, it feels like it might, and you’ve never been in this situation before, making out with the man of your dreams, so for all you know, it will, so why risk it?

“Stop me if I’m going too fast,” he says between kisses.

“You can go as fast as you want,” you reply, without even a second’s pause. “Just don’t stop.”

“Damn, and here I was worried I was coming off too excited,” he grins, face lighting up in delight. Then he kisses your cheek, whispering against your skin at your offended huff. “It’s okay, I like how needy you are for me.”

“Shut up,” you groan, but you know he felt the way you shuddered, so you give up the weak protests and start kissing him again, twisting your fingers in his hair to keep him close.

Mingyu finally stops laughing when you take his bottom lip between your own, sucking and licking at the plump skin. With a groan, he digs his fingers into your sides, and he starts to guide you back and forth, rolling you over the eye-catching bulge in his sweatpants. It’s a sight that makes you clench, thinking about how much you want to sit on it now, just pull him out and ride, too needy to feel him inside you to even take your clothes off.

But again, you want more. You want what he’d promised earlier.

He nips his way down your throat until his mouth latches at the base of your neck, sucking and biting, and you whimper, squirming in his hold. “

‘Gyu, please!”

“Please what?”

He doesn’t lift his head, too absorbed in sinking his vampire-like canines into your soft skin, not sharp enough to pierce, just hard enough that you know you’ll have bruises blooming there tomorrow, little souvenirs of this moment.

Please everything, you think. You want it all, whatever he’s willing to give, you’ll take. You’re feeling greedy as fuck right now.

“I want what you promised me.”

“Hold on,” he intones seriously, right before laving his tongue over a fresh mark. “Let a man at death’s door enjoy his last moments.”

“Oh my god, you’re so stupid,” you groan, grabbing his face and smashing your lips together. He’s just - just such an idiot, such a stupid sexy idiot and you want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life.

“Fine,” he says after a few minutes of frantic making out, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, hands circling around your ass, squeezing as he pulls you closer. “Time for my last meal.”

He kisses away your embarrassingly pleased moan, and then he maneuvers the two of you around so he’s lying on the bed on his back and you’re straddling him. As he watches with rapt attention, you peel off your shirt. Since you’d been dressed for bed, you hadn’t bothered to throw on a bra. Judging from Mingyu’s expression, you made the right call.

“Pretty,” he breathes out, wide eyes finding yours, and you have to take a beat, have to take a moment to sit and let the reality of the situation wash over you. The two of you are here, together, in this hotel room half a world away from home. Both wanting this. It’s clear to you now just how eager Mingyu’s been since you walked in. He wasn’t lying - he wants you just as much as you want him.

With this new understanding, you stand up to slide your shorts and panties off in one go, before straddling him again, and lowering yourself for another kiss. Immediately, his arms are around you, gliding down your back, all the way to your bare ass, taking the biggest handfuls he can.

“You drive me insane. So pretty, so hot.”

Mingyu’s words kick the simmering heat in your gut into a full blown fire. You moan into his kiss, grinding yourself against him. One of his hands grips your side, helping you chase the friction, while the other slips between your bodies. When his fingers brush your inner thigh, he lets out a strangled groan. “Oh fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Your fault,” you gasp, lips fervently pressing against his, licking at the seam of his mouth until he allows you in, so you can roll your tongue over his like you roll your hips.

“Then allow me to make it up to you,” he grins, long fingers cupping your mound, trapping the heat there in his palm as he rubs it against you. You keen, thighs already twitching. You’re going to lose your mind before you even get to his face.

You’re not alone in that feeling, as he suddenly reaches for your thighs, urging you to crawl up his body. “Get up here, please,” he begs, flat out begs you, and you slide forward as fast as you can. You need his mouth, right now.

Hovering over him is a little surreal - MIngyu’s big brown eyes are gazing up at you in a perfect replication of your favorite daydream, only it’s so much better than you’d ever imagined, because the expression he wears is one of complete awe, like he’s the one living out his fantasy. Again you feel bold, so you run your fingers through his hair, nails lightly scraping over his scalp. He moans quietly, low in his throat, like he’s trying to hold it in, and your mouth quirks in a half smile as you kneel.

“Nice knowing you, ‘Gyu.”

He hums a happy note, lips vibrating lightly just as your cunt reaches them, and you moan quietly. You don’t settle all the way down, because as much as you were playing along with this whole death-by-pussy dream of his, you are slightly worried that you might actually suffocate him, if not because of your weight than because of your dire need, that you might get too lost in the aching desire that’s building inside you, spurred on by the way he’s brushing the lower half of his face and down your folds, just breathing you in, teasing you with his touches but not giving you what you so desperately want.

“‘Gyu,” you whine, tilting your pelvis forward, to catch his tongue as he traces your inner thigh, leaving a trail of saliva behind. He blows a puff of air across the wetness, sending goosebumps running at the cooling sensation.

When you try to shift again, he’s quick to wrap his hands up around your hips, holding you still. Not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to let you know - he’s in charge now.

“Stay still, pretty,” he murmurs, tenderly pressing a kiss into your skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my promise. Cross my heart, remember?”

With that reminder, he pulls you down further onto his face. His tongue slides into you, nose bumping your clit, and you whimper, hands flailing at your sides, seeking something to cling to, finding nothing but the warm air around you. The pressure on the sensitive bud combining with the wet hot muscle plunging between your slick folds is overwhelming in the best way.

“‘Gyu, oh, that’s so good!”

Mingyu nods his head vigorously, nudging his nose around, letting his tongue drag up and down your slit. It almost feels like he’s agreeing with you, backed up by the way he grunts brokenly, this deep rumble in his chest that gets strangled halfway through his throat.

You’re not sure at what point you start thrust your hips. Mingyu helps you find the right pace, big hands guiding you forward and back, forward and back, until you feel the rhythm all the way from your ears to your toes.

As his mouth slides up to suckle on your clit, his left hand also snakes upwards, cupping your right breast, thumb rolling over your puckered nipple. You shudder, nerves sizzling like power lines, lit up by his every touch.

“‘Gyu…” Mingyu’s mouth pulls another whine from you. You glance down, catching the furrow in his brow, the sweat dripping down his temples. “Oh my god.”

“Mmmmphf,” Mingyu agrees, or so you assume, unable to understand anything he might be mumbling into you. A particularly sharp suck on your pulsating clit makes your back arch, and Mingyu’s hand falls from your chest, disappearing behind you.

The sudden rustling of fabric draws your attention. You glance over your shoulder, only to whimper when you catch sight of Mingyu’s hand stroking his erection, band of his sweatpants hastily shoved down, stiff cock so flushed it brings a matching heat to your neck.

If you were more limber, you’d reach for him, give him a helping hand, but you can’t stay twisted around for long, not when Mingyu’s tongue makes you refocus on his mouth. It’s too difficult to think about anything else right now but the way he keeps plunging inside you, using the thick muscle to fuck you shallowly.

You can’t stop mewling like a cat in heat, rutting back and forth over Mingyu’s tongue. Even in your daze, it doesn’t escape your attention that Mingyu’s absolutely pussy drunk at this point, depraved moans buzzing endlessly against your most sensitive spots because he refuses to detach his mouth from you long enough to let them escape. Every muffled note reverberates deep in your core, joins the tense chord that’s building inside you to a crescendo.

“‘Gyu, please.”

At the sound of your plea, Mingyu stops stroking himself, bringing his hand around to find your clit, middle finger drawing circles around and around and around.

When you double over, hands sinking into the plush bedding on either side of Mingyu’s head, he grunts, tipping his head to the side so he can speak. “You okay?”

“Fuck, Mingyu, ‘m good,” you giggle, suddenly hit by a burst of glee, perhaps due to the lack of oxygen in your head, since all the blood in your body is concentrated in your clit right now. “I’m having an amazing night.”

Mingyu hums again, sounding very pleased, and you meet his gaze, and suddenly you wish his phone was nearby, so you could snap a photo, because this look - hair mussed and clinging to his forehead, pupils blown, nose to chin coated in your glistening wetness - this is a look worth capturing.

“Yeah, me too,” he says, chest heaving as he catches his breath, and the sincerity in his voice steals your own away. If you had any nerve, you’d confess something right now, something you weren’t planning on telling him tonight or tomorrow or maybe ever. But you keep silent, only breathing a tiny exhale of surprise as he slides out from under you, and nudges you onto your back.

Mingyu folds you in half easily, because you’re giving no resistance, letting him shape you the way he desires, and then his mouth is on you again. Now that he's lying facedown between your legs, he’s able to get some much-desired friction without using his hands, grinding his neglected cock into the bed as he concentrates on you.

His tongue glides over your throbbing nub again, and then his right hand ghosts over your slit. You whimper a soft “Please,” and that’s all he needs to slide his finger inside. The intrusion has you squirming, urging him silently to go deeper, and to your relief, he obliges. But he also locks his other arm over your legs, holding them so you can’t keep bucking your hips up.

“I said, stay still,” he mumbles, with no anger or heat behind it, just amusement, laced with a slight tinge of cockiness. He knows he’s frustrating you, judging by the curl of his lips as he plunges his finger in and out slowly, way too slowly, teasing you with what you need most. You try to press your hips down onto his hand, to make him glide faster, but he just leans into you slightly, big arm stopping your movements.

Your whine is beyond petulant. “Don’t tease me!”

“Pretty, I promise you, when I tease you, you’ll know.”

And then he adds his middle finger, curling both, pressing on the most sensitive spot on your inner wall. Over and over, his fingers flutter, massaging until starlight bursts behind your eyelids.

“It’ll be something like this.”

He withdraws his hand.

“Gyuuuuuu.”

If he was slightly cocky earlier, he’s fully arrogant now, face breaking into a wide grin while he laughs. “Wow, so whiny. You do want me bad.”

“I swear to god if you dohhhhHHH-”

You break off in a moan when he lowers his face again, loudly lapping at your wetness. Clever fingers alternate between scissoring and stroking, following the changes in your breathing, and you hope that he’s close to being satiated, because you’re teetering on the edge of your climax, only the slightest bit more stimulation necessary to push you over.

“Mingyu. Mingyu, I’m gonna cum.” You open your eyes, raising your head enough to look at him, to watch with a dropped jaw as he buries his face in your cunt, his own eyes closed in ecstasy, and oh, that’s it - “Oh god, I’m gonna cum!”

Your warning cry - though clearly appreciated by Mingyu, who groans in answering refrain, hips humping the bed furiously - is ultimately unnecessary, given how hard your walls suddenly clench around his fingers. He doesn’t stop his ministrations, fingerfucking you through your orgasm as your lower half trembles beneath his heavy arm. He holds you in place as best he can, sweetly kissing your clit, while you wail and writhe, pressing your palm into your mouth to keep your cries from waking the rooms around you.

Eventually your tremors slow, turning into occasional twitches, before your body finally relaxes. Mingyu continues to lap at you, every pass of his tongue getting lighter and lighter, until he lifts his head. He’s the perfect image of lust, eyes dark and desirous, and you claw at his shoulders, needing him close again.

“Kiss me.”

He wipes his face with the back of his hand, smearing you over himself more as he rises up to meet you. His cock is hard between you, and you moan, knowing that you did that, that he got this turned on just from eating you out, and extend your fingers to wrap around him.

The unbidden sound he utters when you take his cock and slide it through your soaking folds, coating it in your wetness, is the filthiest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Careful, pretty,” he pants, looking down at your hand. Under his close gaze, you circle the head of his cock before rubbing your thumb over and around the slit there. “‘M close.”

“Wanna make you come, ‘Gyu,” you tell him, and he hisses, hips bucking into your grip.

“Fuck.” His long fingers cover yours, guiding you into a faster pace. “But I’m gonna make a mess.”

“Do it. Make a mess.” The need to make him completely fall apart takes possession of you, makes you say things you’ve never said to anyone else. “Come all over me.”

Mingyu whines, chin dropping to his chest. He’s barely blinking as he stares at your entwined hands.

“Pretty… don’t say that….”

“Please, ‘Gyu.” All shame has fled your body. “I want it.”

No further encouragement is needed. Mingyu grunts a few times before he’s painting your stomach in so much white, in little drops and big splashes, doing exactly what you told him, eyes rolling back in his head as he does.

When his high abates, he sits back on his heels, gazing at the mess he created, all the sticky sweat and semen that covers your body. A delirious thought comes to you. Is the sight beautiful enough for him to want to take a picture?

“Wow,” he murmurs after a moment, shaking his head. “You’re even prettier when you’re covered in me.”

His dead serious expression is enough to break the haze of lust hanging over you. You throw your arm over your face, too flustered to look at him. “‘Gyuuuuu!”

“Changed my mind, I’m calling you ‘whiny' from now on.” The bed shifts as Mingyu rises. He laughs all the way to and from the bathroom, laughs even harder when you glare at him, reaching for the towel he holds. He surprises you by nudging your hand away. “Let me.”

His touch is so gentle as he wipes away his mess, then your own. When you’re both clean enough, he lays on his side, draping his arm over you. “Think you can sleep now?”

Oh, you can sleep. You’re feeling satiated in a way you haven’t for a long time, and now that the rush has worn off, you could knock right out. You should probably go back to your room, ride this calm wave right into sleep, not let yourself get too excited at the thought that this vacation might be the best one ever.

Instead, you grin, sliding your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. “Yeah. But I don’t want to.”

“Oh?” Mingyu’s smile mirrors yours. “What do you wanna do instead?”

“I might have some ideas.”

He lets you pull him down for a kiss, humming eagerly.

“Tell me what you want, pre-”

A sharp rap on the door startles you both.

“Dude, don’t you dare!” Minghao hisses through the wood. “We’ve been out here forever!”

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

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say-al0e · 29 days

Text

Body Electric

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Steve has never lived in a home full of noise but he likes to think he'd enjoy spending the rest of his life in one. (AKA Steve Harrington is soft and proposes.) | Ft. Anon Request: "Is that my shirt?" + "We should get married." "Funny." "I'm not joking." (Listen, when I took the requests, I intended to stick to them, even if it's been like two years.) Warnings: Mentions of the Upside Down, some anxiety. Nothing too graphic or heavy. Pairing: Steve x fem!Reader (I think it might actually be GN!Reader) Word Count: 2.7k

Faint sounds of life - rain pattering against the windows, falling in sheets; a car starting in the parking lot; music, pouring from a neighbor’s stereo and bleeding through the thin walls; a laugh track, the theme tune to some primetime television show from the apartment next door - never left much room for silence in the small apartment Steve shared with you.

If you listened, waited a few moments with bated breath, you could hear the sounds of a dozen lives being lived without ever leaving the comfort of your own home. It was strange, especially for him, as he’d spent much of his life living in silence.

There were stretches of his memory, days at a time he could recount passing without hearing even the faintest sound of life from another being. Now, nearly every moment was filled with some kind of sound; the noise of neighbors, the noise of the city, the noise of you.

It was new, completely and utterly foreign, but in no way unwelcome.

Steve noticed it before you did. You grew up in a house full of noise; parents who cut on the radio first thing in the morning, just to hear the news, and siblings whose vocabulary lacked the word quiet. He found it harder to allow it all to fade into the background and still startled at the occasional slamming door. Whereas you adjusted quickly, Steve still heard every minute noise just as clearly as he had that first night.

A small part of him - that same part that hoped he never got used to the giddy feeling that still bubbled in the pit of his stomach every time you smiled at him, eyes glittering with a soft fondness he’d never tire of - hoped he would never adjust.

In addition to the noise of your neighbors, the world carrying on around you, Steve could clearly hear you.

The quiet humming in the morning as you dressed for class or work, usually some tune that only existed in your head; the clink of dishes as you made coffee for the both of you, his just the way he’d always liked; the sound of your voice, echoing over the shower as you danced in the bathroom; your soft breathing, quiet hums of content with each plot twist; the rustle of paper, pages flipping as you spent your night reading.

Steve was able to hear each sound you made, no matter how quiet, and reveled in the noise.

Every moment that he spent with you, in the small apartment surrounded by a dozen other lives, was one he was grateful for. And though the television played low in the background, volume never raising much higher out of respect for your neighbors - something he’d never had to consider before, something that secretly made him smile - he couldn’t remember what he’d wanted to watch. There’d been a reason he wanted it on, but you were more interesting, anyway.

He rested with his head on your lap, cradled by the plush of your thighs, and watched as you flipped through the yellowed pages of a book you’d picked up earlier in the week. He couldn’t read the title - it was upside down and the spine was cracked, the perks of choosing well-loved secondhand books - but you were enamored and that was enough for him. It would soon be added to the little shelf in the corner of the living room, already overflowing with titles you devoured steadily, but the realization only made him smile as your lips pursed in concentration.

There were moments Steve hated interrupting, blissful seconds where the weight of the world no longer rested on your shoulders. Others, however, he just couldn’t help himself. As happy as he was for you both to exist in your own worlds, there were moments he was desperate to recapture your attention and remind yourself that you were his.

As such, he felt little guilt as he shifted and turned his full attention to you.

Soft fingers gripped the hem of your shirt, rubbed at the worn cotton idly, and Steve’s warm brown eyes met yours when you spared him a moment of attention. “Is that my shirt?”

“Our shirt.” Steve laughed, easily amused by the same reply you’d been giving him for years, any time he pointed out you wearing his clothes. “I think I’m allowed to wear it. We both graduated from Hawkins High,” you reminded him - as if he needed it. He regularly regretted not meeting you sooner, not paying attention to you when you both roamed the halls of Hawkins High.

Either way, he was glad that he managed to find his way to you in the end.

“Sure,” he agreed easily, happily. “But you could wear your own. I saw another gym shirt in the dresser. What’re you reading?”

“Not as soft as yours,” you reasoned, as if it made perfect sense. And who was he to argue? He would’ve happily given up his shirts if it meant seeing you like this - soft, relaxed, content. Before he could even consider mentioning that, making the moment sappy, you hummed. “I Sing the Body Electric!. It’s a bunch of short stories,” you explained, dropping one hand to card through his hair, tough light as you worked your fingers through the freshly washed strands. “There’s one, the same title as the book, that was a Twilight Zone episode. I think you’d like it.”

Steve’s nose wrinkled. He’d never much cared for science fiction, despite your love for it, and always felt a little left out when you and Eddie began your deep dives into the meaning of episodes. He’d never managed to make it all the way through an episode and was skeptical as he asked, “What makes you think that?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, “it’s just nice. It’s about a family. After the mom dies, they build this robot grandma. The daughter hates her, hates everyone because she thinks her mom left her, and refuses to love her. Then, the grandma saves her. It seems like she’s dead but she comes back and the little girl realizes she can’t leave her so she starts loving again.”

“Nice?” Steve tipped his head to get a better look at you, brows furrowed. “Jesus, babe, that sounds kind of awful. Like, horror movie stuff.” His face scrunched as he attempted to think, considering the few horror movies he’d seen and managed to retain. “Oh, like that one with the guy who puts people in his basement,” he exclaimed.

“There’s a bunch of horror movies where a guy puts people in his basement.” When Steve raised his brows, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “Point made,” you conceded. “But, still. It’s a bad description, maybe. It’s, like,” you paused for a moment, thumb marking your place in the book as you considered. “You go through a lot of shit and build up these walls because you’ve been hurt. Then someone comes in, goes through it all with you, and starts to chip away at the walls. Then, they get hurt and you start to realize what they mean to you. And when they come back to you, it makes you realize that you don’t want to deal with life without them. It’s, like, poetic, or something.”

“Poetic,” Steve mumbled, agreeable. His entire body warmed at the sentiment, even as he teasingly asked, “Are you reading into it?”

“I could be.” Your fingers continued to card through his hair, touch gentle as his gaze grew softer. “We’ve been through a lot of shit together, Harrington,” you reminded him, though there was no need. He remembered every moment vividly. “You didn’t believe in love anymore and I didn’t like you very much until you saved me from becoming demodog food. Guess it’s nice to think that even with all the shit we went through, something good came of it.”

Steve knew that nostalgia wan’t the right word, not when considering the hell Hawkins put you through. But he fond himself grateful for it, just the same. When he considered his life, where he might be if he’d never stumbled upon scenes out of his worst nightmares, he wondered if he’d have the life loved so much without the hell you both went through.

As much as you teased him for being a secret romantic, he liked to think he would. In any universe, in any timeline, he liked to think he would’ve found you. Eventually, anyway.

That was a declaration he’d made before, under the cover of darkness after a nightmare or two, and he knew you felt the same. He also knew that the moment wasn’t right, not when you were looking down with a soft smile reserved just for him.

So, instead of declaring that you were the best thing he’d ever been lucky enough to find, he softly urged, “Read to me.”

Despite your rumination on why he’d enjoy the book, you knew Steve. Science fiction wasn’t his favorite and he’d likely be out in a matter of moments. He could see the surprise, your brows winging up, as you asked, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he encouraged as he brushed his fingers over your exposed thigh. “There’s nothing good on,” he teased, though you both knew he’d settled onto the couch with the intention of watching something or other. “Might as well.”

Whatever it was he’d planned on watching was completely lost, entirely out of mind - and he knew he’d only remember what it was when someone inevitably asked him what he thought of it. There wasn’t a single moment of hesitation as he turned off the television, plunging the apartment into the only sort of quiet you could get, and glanced up at you expectantly.

As you’d done a hundred times before, you picked a page and started to read. The story itself was never very important. Steve was used to being dropped into the middle of your favorite books, just because he wanted to hear your voice.

There were nights where you read him Tolkien, Bradbury, Orwell, and a plethora of others he could never name. There was science fiction and fantasy, romance and mystery, fiction and non. He’d heard at least a portion of nearly every book on the shelf because on the nights when there was nothing on, when the anxiety you both learned to live with settled a little too heavy on his chest, when he just wanted to be selfish and drown himself in your attention, you read to him. Your voice filled the apartment, soft and warm as you read from another short story.

Steve tried to pay attention to the words. He wanted to be able to discuss it with you, to have the kinds of conversations you had with Robin or with Eddie about symbolism and meaning, but he found his attention drifting.

It wasn’t that he had no interest. Though he couldn’t discuss relevant social themes in The Twilight Zone or which horror franchise was better, he wanted nothing more than to hear your opinion on the matter. He’d never read Bradbury on his own but usually found himself enthralled when you read it to him.

All he wanted was to live in that moment forever. To lie there, in the safety and comfort of your shared apartment with your voice washing over him; he was certain that there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

The thought had plagued him for month - years, really, as he’d known you were the one the moment you followed him into the depths of hell to protect a ragtag group of children - but marriage was always a fantasy. The moment hadn’t been right. He’d rehearsed the speech a dozen times, pictured what the ring might look like, where he might take you to pop the question.

It was almost agonizing, wondering when the perfect moment might strike, when you would both be ready to step into the future. But he realized that there was nothing technically “perfect” in your lives. From the moment you met, life was chaos and that was part of the appeal.

There would never be a perfect moment but he knew that nothing would feel as right as that moment, lying on the couch, with your fingers tangled in his hair as you lounged in his stolen gym shirt.

Without allowing himself to think too hard, he hummed, “We should get married.”

The words were spoken casually, as if he were commenting on the weather or the story you were reading to him. It was easy, completely concealed the heavy thud of his heart and the overwhelming noise blaring in his mind - the little voice yelling that he should’ve waited, he should’ve made it perfect.

For a brief moment, your fingers stilled in his hair. It wasn’t the first time Steve broached the subject, however, it was the first time he phrased it that way. Like he was looking for an answer, a reply, a decision.

Then, you continued carding through the soft strands as you hummed. “Funny.”

“I’m not joking.” He lifted a hand, carefully removed yours from his hair, before he sat up and turned to face you. The look on your face was nearly unreadable, though Steve had spent years practicing. He could see a slight apprehension - not at the idea; he knew you would marry him in a heartbeat, that you’d happily spend the rest of your life with him - and a hint of glimmering excitement, though it was overshadowed by an emotion he couldn’t place. Still, he carried on. “I’ve thought about it for a long time.”

“Steve.” The sigh of his name was soft, breathless, and in it he could detect the emotion that darkened your eyes. It was nerves, a residual unease - fear that life was going to well, anything more might leave you both scrambling from long-gone monsters once more.

“I know,” he assured you, voice just as soft as your own - mindful, of your feelings and of the privacy you no longer had. This was a moment for you, to be shared only between the inhabitants of the small apartment, and he was careful to keep quiet as he shifted closer and reached for your hand. “It’s weird,” he began, smiling as he met your eyes. “Some days, I wake up and I wait a few minutes, just to be sure I’m not still in Hawkins. I’m afraid that the last few years have been a dream, that I’m going to get a call any minute that the kids found something completely insane and we’re going to be running for our lives again. But I’m not. It’s over. We’re here and it’s totally scary, thinking that we could be happy, but we could. We could elope,” he offered, smile growing a touch wider when you exhaled and squeezed his hand tight.

“You don’t want a big wedding?” You’d never talked details, only agreed under the cover of soft moonlight that you wanted to be married, that your futures were thoroughly intertwined. “Wear a fancy tux, eat stupidly expensive cake, dance all night?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t really care about any of that,” he admitted. “The important thing is that it’s us. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I’ve known that for a long time. We could go to the courthouse,” he offered, grinning when you laughed. “Robin and Eddie are in this building, the kids have been begging for an excuse to come visit. Us and them, that’s all that matters, right?”

The ragtag family the pair of you had created, a lifelong bond built on a difficult experience, was, indeed, all you needed. Neither of you wanted much more than to spend the rest of your lives together, to be happy and content and enjoy the life you built, so you nodded.

“Yeah,” you agreed, smile mirroring his own as you squeezed his hand. “You’re right. Let’s get married.”

Years ago, neither of you could’ve imagined your future with any degree of accuracy. Living in a small apartment, far from Hawkins and surrounded by the noise of life carrying on, was not something either of you expected. Even less expected was falling in love with one another.

But now that you’d made it, a proposal sealed with a soft kiss and a giddy excitement to look for rings the very next day - after making the call to rally the troops - neither of you could imagine a more perfect future.

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Author's Note: I almost got stuck in an elevator today. As someone afraid of elevators, it was pretty terrifying. 0/10, do not recommend.

Taglist: @x-avantgarde-x, @thisisparadisemylove, @eddiesprincess, @slvdsjjk, @munsonlover, @tasmbestspdrman, @urofficial-cyberslut, @jxngwhore, @hopelesslylosttheway, @meaganjm, @lazuli-leenabride, @deiondraaa, @piscesmesss, @glowyskiess, @kiszkathecook, @missryerye, @solarrexplosion, @ofherscarlettwitchways, @lovedandleft-haunted, @trappedinlimbo15, @sweetiekitten, @bookfrog242, @gwendolynmary, @sage-bun, @zealouslibrariesparadiselight, @castiels-lilass, @tojis-little-brat, @emmah787, @theworldsendxx, @asuperconfusedgirl, @flores-and-sunshine, @passi0np1t, @laurathefahrradsattel, @hellf1reclub, @slut4yourmom, @niko-04, @hannirose-loves-you, @mrs-eddie-munson, @screambabe, @vllowe, @ryswritingrecord, @cheriebondy, @ryswritingrecord, @thewitchofthewilds140, @bootlegmothman420, @maruushkka, @honeymoonpython, @keenesbeans, @jess-bonn, @sammysinger04, @khaoticken21, @denkis-slut, @spiderman-berries, @lotus-es, @amortiff, @stardust-galaxies, @ure-a-sunflower, @1-800-ch3rry, @ladybeewritethings, @ynbutbetter, @hunnybunimdun, @breathinfive, @s-u-t, @s4ntacarlal0stk1d, @rae-iin, @pennamesgame, @stefans-wife, @voldieshorts, @frankie-mercury, @bbymochi1, @serendiipty, @saturnsworld01, @eddiemunson1sstuff, @valthevalkyrie-main, @crying-caro, @inglourious-imagines

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #v's fics

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jhilsara · 2 months

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I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

It's over! I can't say thank you enough for joining me and my adventures with Hobie and Mariana. I hope you enjoyed them as much as I did. I really grew attached to MJ and Hobie as their story just blossomed before me. While this is the end of the main story, I'll probably have a couple of one shots here and there for them. I just love them so much. Anyway~ once again thank you so much for reading this silly little fic and if you made it this far, I truly appreciate you for reading :)

please leave a kudo on ao3 or a comment <3

~Several Months Later~

MJ is trying to push her way through a rampaging crowd. She’s fighting against the current, but she could care less. The adrenaline pumping through her as she tries to look above the sea of people.

The screaming in her ears is starting to get irritating though. She elbows past a much larger man and finally gets somewhere off to the side where she can get a good visual.

Through the settling dust she sees Spider-Man knocking around the Vulture in the air. She brings her camera up and tries to take a few quick shots before she starts filming. She was getting tired of trying to frame the best front-page photo’s for Spider-Man slander at the Daily Bugle… but none of her other coworkers were willing to get that close to any of the action. She did get hazard pay from it and she was going to milk the cow dry as long as they were paying her.

They didn’t need to know that she’s got a small advantage since her boyfriends the vigilante… at least she feels somewhat safe getting up close to his fights. Even if the so-called vigilante in question does scold her every single time.

She was starting to kind of like it, it was just proof that he cares, not that she’d ever tell Hobie that.

Once she get’s a good enough photo, well, better than what her other coworkers have made in the past. She brings out her phone to film.

This wasn’t for the Daily Bugle, it was for her own personal blogging website. If she was forced by the corporate overloads to make money by slandering her boyfriends name, she could at least run a little side gig that tells the truth.

If she got more website hits on her blog than then Daily Bugle’s she didn’t brag, but god did it boost her ego. Especially since Mr. Jameson was too dull to figure out she was running the blog on the side anyway.

He wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box.

She’s scanning her phone to zoom in on Spider-Man and the cocky bastard has the gal to look over to her and shoot a peace sign at the camera. She rolls her eyes.

“As you can see our vigilante isn’t taking this fight very seriously since he’s flirting with the camera… It’ll make a nice fan cam later though.” She says sarcastically as she follows the fight.

Hobie’s high above, fighting the Vulture in the air. That was the nice thing about the Vulture, nothing was close to her on the ground.

Not like the Lizard a few weeks ago who literally flooded the whole street. Her shoes were permanently damaged. Not to mention her sliding down the road like a poor excuse of a slip and slide. She did get some stellar photos and videos from that. Even if she almost fell down into the sewer.

Hobie had finally conceded to the fact she was going to be near his fights. By her volition or by her new job. He couldn’t escape it. So, he did the next best thing, he started to make her gear that she could at least use to help herself.

The first being a web shooter. It wasn’t set up exactly like his. It was discrete enough to look like a watch. It was mostly to stop her from falling, which is how she saved herself from falling into the sewer.

The month it took for her to figure it out and feel comfortable enough to use it was not fun. Hobie was trying to teach her how to swing her weight, but he was a stick in comparison to her. She’s seen what his webs can do, she knows they can hold her easily. It was trusting herself to not screw up the momentum that was scary. That and the fact she didn’t like swinging to begin with. Even if it was Hobie’s favorite, it certainly wasn’t hers. The actions gave her whiplash and made her nauseous.

She only used the web shooter when she absolutely had to. She was more than happy that today Hobie was flying through the sky. She could safely keep her feet on the ground.

The Vulture shots his metal feathers as an attack toward the swinging vigilante. Hobie swings too close toward her and it has MJ running from the projectiles hitting the ground.

She keeps her camera steady as she readjusts to follow the fight again, “The Vulture should really start learning how to aim if he’s going to resort to his feathers.” She comments as she keeps filming. “I mean, how often have they really hit Spider-Man?”

There’s no one really around her but a few reporters on the sides of the streets. Most of them keeping their distance far away. MJ was the only one willing to get this close to the action. Which is why her online blog was skyrocketing in popularity. She didn’t even think about making one until one day Mr. Jameson pissed her off. He was ranting and raving about how the Daily Bugle was the only news source worth listening too because of how good their images were of Spider-Man.

Or as he said, “That no good Spiderpunk running around and destroying our city!”

If she had to bullshit some article calling Hobie Spiderpunk one more time she was going to vomit in Mr. Jameson’s waste basket. It was such a playground taunt. He couldn’t even be more creative!

It also made her eye twitch that her boss was using her perfectly good photos to slander her boyfriend. Hobie didn’t care. In fact, he never looked at a single news source, the most he did was hijack the police scanners to aid him. Didn’t stop the fire burning under her though. If MJ was anything, she was loyal to a fault. So, what if it meant she got a little petty? It was all in good faith. She made her blog that night, as a counter protest to her boss. She never expected her ramblings and bad videos to explode overnight.

It was an added bonus that her boss had also caught wind of her blog and couldn’t do anything about it. He had demanded MJ pay closer attention when she was out, to try and figure out who ran the blog. The man clearly couldn’t put it together that it was her. Who else would get that close to Spider-Man’s fights? She didn’t even disguise her voice, but she made sure to never show her face.

Hobie just found it amusing if anything else. She had a decent following online and made sure her content was always free. If she was going to report on what was happening she wasn’t going to profit off of it. Unlike the Daily Bugle who hid their slanderous newspaper articles behind a paywall. She loved what she did, uncovering stories and being near the action. It gave her a rush like no other. Even if Hobie would wish she wouldn’t get so close.

This was one of those moments she wished she wasn’t so close.

“Shit, shit, shit!” She’s running from falling building debris. The vulture had taken a large chunk off the old brick building to her left. She could hear the car alarms going off as the falling pieces were crushing the cars underneath.

She feels arms wrap around her tightly and she stops struggling almost immediately. Looking up to see Hobie’s mask staring down at her. A heavy sigh leaving his mouth.

“You were doing so good this time. Outta way and everythin’.” He teases half-heartedly.

She rolls her eyes before shrugging, “To be fair, I didn’t expect the bird to throw such a hissy fit he’d take out the corner of the building.” She replies.

Hobie sighs and nods. He sets her down a good distance away. “He’s really bloody upset over somethin’… I couldn’t tell ya for the life of me. I tuned him out ages ago.” He turns to dash off and take care of the giant bird man.

“I’m wastin’ my breath, but don’t follow alright.” He tries to tell her. She just hums in acknowledgement and she rushing off right behind him.

She was almost like a shadow with her new job at the Daily Bugle. Always behind him. It still frightened him. Had the rage simmering underneath his the second she was too close to danger. That dread would probably never fully go away. It was just a matter of trusting each other. He’d come running to her if she needed him, and vice versa. The least her could do was arm her so she could defend herself. Not that she needed too much defending. She did explode the Goblin with their own bombs. He knew the dangers that came with being Spider-Man and she had taken them with so much grace and shouldered them with him. It was more than he could ask of anyone.

Yet there she was, next to him, like she was always meant to be.

She grabs a few more photos and is able to catch the end of the fight. Hobie having the Vulture wrapped up in his webs.

“Once again, our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man can be found protecting us! He’s a little cross with me right now so I won’t bug him. I am expecting some fan cams from this footage so don’t let me down!” She signs off her video and shuffles her belongings into her bag.

Hobie turns to see her and she waves in small acknowledgement before jogging off back to her office. He shakes his head but goes to handle the Vulture, knowing he’ll see her later anyway.

Mariana’s curled up on the couch, nursing a half cold tea, when the door gently opens and she hears him kicking off his combat boots.

“Long day?” she calls out to him sitting up to look over at him.

He gives a dry chuckle before walking over to kiss her forehead. “It was more than just the birdman today,” he sighs.

She frowns looking up at him, “Go take a hot shower, I’ll make you something.” She whispers holding his face.

He nods his head and presses another soft kiss to her cheek before walking to the bathroom.

She shakes her head and gets up with a full body stretch. She goes to grab the leftovers from the dinner she cooked earlier. She goes to warm it back up for him, it wasn’t too cold but definitely not as hot as when she originally cooked earlier. It won’t take very long so she starts on a drink too. She goes over to the kettle and starts making him a cup of tea, while also making herself a second cup. Pouring her lukewarm tea down the sink. She leans against the counter and waits for it to heat up.

She doesn’t hear Hobbie come behind her as he wraps his arms around her waist. Pressing his half naked body against hers. She leans her head back to look up at him.

“Ya know, this would be lovelier if you weren’t still slightly wet.” She teases him.

He groans and shoves his face into the crook of her neck. “Don’t care.” He murmurs placing a soft kiss to her shoulder.

She smiles softly and moves her hand to pat his cheek. She doesn’t stop her task of making them tea but it becomes a slightly more difficult task with one hand.

Hobie slowly starts swaying their bodies to an unheard tune in his head. She easily moves with him as she makes their mugs. The silence isn’t stifling, it’s more relaxing than anything. His weight on her is comforting and he places more soft kisses against her skin, moving from her shoulder up her neck, to her cheek, and finally to the corner of her lips.

She turns her head to follow him, chasing his lips with hers. She hums contently against him.

“I have to pour our tea Hobbie.” She whispers against his lips.

He presses another kiss, this one deeper and longer. “Can wait,” He grips her hips to make her turn fully to him. He presses his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.

Her hands snake up his arms and down his bare chest, touch feather light. He makes a deep groan in his throat. It has her chuckling softly.

One of his hands goes to grab both her hands, capturing them easily. His other hand moves from her waist to grip the counter behind her. His mouth moving down to her ear, “Watch it…” he whispers, “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” He presses a kiss under her ear.

She starts to squirm a bit, “Oh piss off!” She giggles her face heating up, “I’m not the one who walked in here half naked.”

He leans back and sighs dramatically. “I haven’t done the laundry in a minute luv.”

She rolls her eyes, “What you need is to just move in already.” She tries to say nonchalantly avoiding looking up at him.

He hums in thought, “Is that you officially asking me or joking?” He teases trying to make her look at him.

Her face grows redder, as she tries to wiggle away from him. He other hand releases hers and he blocks her in against the counter. Leaning dangerously closer to her.

“I… I want you to move in, I mean you come here every night anyway, I just think it would be easier if-” she’s starting to ramble running over her words.

Hobie cuts her off with his mouth, kissing her once more. Pulling back to smile lazily at her furiously blushing face.

“I’m just teasin’. Course I’ll move in.” he tells him softly.

“Okay, perfect, cool…” she says quietly, eyes avoiding his.

“I’m keepin’ the house boat though. Don’t want to leave all my spider stuff here.” He says seriously.

She laughs with her chest, moving to wrap her arms around his neck. “I’m okay with that.”

He moves to grab her thighs, lifting her to wrap her legs around his waist. She makes a small noise before holding onto him tighter.

“Hobie! What about the tea, and your food!” She tries to scold him, but her laughter gives her away.

“It can wait, just want you right now.” He says walking them to her bedroom.

She leans forward, her small laughter being swallowed by his lips. They fall onto her bed together and her hands move to hold his jaw, deepening the kiss.

If someone told Mariana a year ago she’d be in a relationship with her cities vigilante she’d call them crazy. She’d also find it impossible that her path would have crossed with his to begin with.

She wouldn’t believe anything that’s happened to her this past year of knowing Hobie. She’s felt herself change for the better, becoming braver than ever. He’s everything she could ask for. Parts of her have healed in ways she never thought they could. The scares are still there, but they can fade with time. She doesn’t feel like a dog who’s been kicked one too many times anymore. She’s found her home in his heart. She knows he’ll protect it, like she protects his. It’s precious that she’s found this love and all she wants to do is nurture and grow it.

She loves him and she thinks she could forever.

Tag List: @missshelleyduvall

#hobie brown x oc #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #spiderpunk #spider punk #hobie x reader #hobie x oc #my art

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coucouatoi · 8 months

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we're not who we used to be | h.s.

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Summary: Some letters you've written but never sent to Harry over the years.

Warnings: Angst... so much... there's some fluff, emphasise on the some, there's a hopeful ending tho!

A/N: Sooo this is the childhood friends to strangers fic no one asked for... Hope you all enjoy! This is my writing debut in Harry land :)

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April 10' 2010

To: Harry Styles From: Your first fan

Hiya Harry,

It's currently 11:29 pm about 10 hours away from your audition. I figured since you told me to stop praising you and boosting your ego, I'm writing down the rest of the things I want to say.

Firstly, I know you're going to smash it! All the judges are going to want you in. There's no chance that they won't see how special you are, how you're the next big thing.

I won't let you back out of it last second! Anne, Gemma and I are ready to drag you onto the stage, we've discussed it thoroughly...

Secondly, I'm already so proud of you. This is a huge step, I know how nervous you are about it. How you think that everything is going to go wrong and that you'll fail. I've got enough hope in you for the both of us. I'll stand by your side the whole time and I'll cheer the loudest.

To finish, you're Harry Styles. You can do anything.

Break a leg superstar!!

Cheering you on already,

Your first-ever fan

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December 12' 2010

To: Harry Styles From: Your biggest fan

Harry!

You've made it all the way to the finals! It's crazy! I knew you could do it but seeing you go further and further has been surreal.

I hope you and the other boys get along well! We haven't had much chance to really gossip about it all, you seem excited with them!

The finale is set to start in about 2 hours and I had to get some emotions out (my mom was tired of hearing them... rude) Anyway! I remembered that I had written you a letter a few months ago and now I'm back in this notebook.

I'm so nervous, excited and kind of nauseous about watching the last episode tonight. I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now... You must be so scared but incredibly jittery!

I'm counting the days until I get to see you again! I want to hear everything that's happened behind the scenes! You know how nosy I am!

I've already taken up two pages so I'll stop for now.

You can do this!

Talk to you soon,

Your favourite person ever

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March 7' 2011

To: You From: Me <3

You called me Angel today...

I don't know what to make of that.

I had so many butterflies in my stomach.

Could you call me that again?

You're my favourite person,

Angel

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November 20' 2011

To: Harry From: Angel

Boo!

You finally let me listen to the full album today! Said you had to be there when I listened to it so you could give me all the secrets. You also wanted to see live how I reacted to every song. You're too cute.

"I Want" is my current favourite.

You did tell me that you'd resonated with a lot of the lyrics you sang on this album. That almost scares me.

How did you relate? Who was going through your mind?

You do have the world at your feet now. I shouldn't feel jealous but I do like having you all to myself. Don't worry I'll get used to sharing...

The Up All Night Tour is starting soon! I'm happy that you've invited me to come to some shows. I'll be there no matter if I have to miss school.

I have to show all these newbies that I'm THE biggest Harry Styles fan out there!

Hopefully, you thought about me while signing.

Because I think about you all the time,

Your favourite fan.

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April 13' 2012

To: Harry From: Angel

G'Day Mate!

So you're officially all the way in Australia now! That's so exciting I wish that you could have stuffed me into your suitcase... sniff

I bet it's super warm there! Or not wait their seasons aren't the same as ours, are they? I'm not even sure...

Hopefully, you can tan a little while you're there! Don't go near any animals or insects!!

I miss you a lot, maybe I'll send this one (spoiler I definitely won't).

Talk to you soon hopefully.

Go swim in the ocean,

Someone who wants to be in it

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August 29' 2012

To: Harry From: Angel?

You haven't come to see me since you've been back.

Too busy being a celebrity?

I've been seeing all these tabloids... I'm not allowed to be jealous I know but I miss you.

I hope you've missed me.

I really really wish you were here with me or that I was with you wherever you are now.

I just want to be us.

Have you forgotten your friend from the small town already?

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January 1' 2013

To: Harry From: Someone You've Hurt

I don't know what to think,

You kissed me. It made me happy.

You said it was a New Year's kiss.

You said you drank too much, it hurt.

You ended up kissing someone else about 20 minutes later.

That hurt even more it almost made me feel used.

I'm happy you were my first kiss.

I don't think you'll even remember it,

Y/N

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November 27' 2014

To: Harry From: Me

I love the new album, took me a while to finally listen to it. I thought you'd come home and make me listen to it in your presence.

You didn't. The first album that I've listened to alone.

Spaces and Fools Gold are my favourite songs. I wonder how many lyrics you resonate with. How many of them did you write?

Come home?

Only for a day please,

Your first Angel

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October 21' 2015

To: Harry From: Y/N

It's been a while,

It's your mom's birthday today. Well only for a few more hours...

She invited my family and me to the party, and of course we went. I didn't think you'd be there. I haven't seen you in almost a year.

It was fun.

Catching up about everything that's been going on with you and the band. Your life is so much more interesting than mine now.

I'm just a boring college student... you're this huge star but that's ok there's no one like you for me, you're my safe place. No matter how far away.

You asked about my love life and I told you about the date I had a few days ago. You asked if we had sex, I lied and said yes. I didn't want to embarrass myself by telling you no one's ever been with me like that.

We ended up getting drunk. Too drunk.

We fucked.

You took my virginity and you have no idea... should I tell you? You were so good. So gentle, loving but you fucked with a purpose, you needed to get off. I won't ever see your childhood bedroom the same way.

This was only a few hours ago.

I've felt every emotion about it. Now I'm crying because I know you'll find someone new to share a bed with. I'm just a notch in your headboard.

It meant everything to me.

But I think I regret it...

Y/N

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May 12' 2017

To: You From: Me

Really?

I hope Only Angel isn't about me.

But I'm overanalysing every single song. Is one about me? Did you think of me while making this album?

We haven't talked since the last time we saw each other. When we fucked again. It wasn't even the second time, after your mom's birthday two years ago we never stopped. It's all we do when we see each other.

It doesn't make me feel all that much better but I feel like if it wasn't for that we wouldn't even know each other anymore.

I'm moving away this year. Got a job offer in Canada and I'm taking it.

Maybe I'll get over you... hopefully.

I can't live my whole life waiting for someone who I don't know anymore.

I'm blocking your number.

I miss who we used to be,

Your first-ever fan

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December 4' 2019

To: H From: Y/N

Hello,

You've crawled your way back into my life, Harry. This morning, you decided to send me your album. Your new one, Fine Line. Your fans haven't even heard it yet. The public hasn't either.

You didn't write a single thing in your email, the mp3 link was staring me down with your automated signature. Not even a greeting.

I shouldn't have listened to it.

I don't know why you sent it to me. We haven't spoken or crossed paths in over a year. Not since I moved and tried to get rid of every way of contact between us.

I still haven't answered, I don't think I will.

You don't get to know what I feel about it. Not anymore.

I'm sorry Harry.

I've moved on,

Y/N

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December 13' 2019

To: H From: Y/N

Your new album came out today.

I'm proud of you even if we are strangers now.

You're a superstar.

I always knew you would be,

Y/N

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March 17' 2020

To: H From: Y/N

I saw that you had to postpone your tour.

You must feel so defeated.

I know I do. Everything's been closed and opened and closed again here in Canada. It's getting exhausting.

I hope the world starts working again soon.

This all sucks...

Crossing my fingers for the tour,

Y/N

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May 18' 2022

To: Harry From: Y/N

Hi,

You sent me the album before the release again.

This time you did say something: I miss you Angel, Can we meet up?

I didn't think I could feel so many butterflies in my stomach. I felt like a teenager again. And I cried more than once listening to Harry's House.

I'm still considering if I should answer... if I do what should I choose? Should I agree and go into the unknown or forget it happened and keep on going with my life?

I miss you too... the one I knew. Not the one who used me. I guess I used you too... How did we get here?

All I want is to be loved and to be in love.

I'm not sure if I'm ready for the hurt this will bring but maybe I should just be a grown-up about this...

I want you back in my life.

That scares me,

Y/N

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August 16' 2022

To: Harry From: Y/N

Well,

I'm going to the Love On Tour today and after we are going to "meet". We even have until the 20th because that is when your next show is, after today obviously.

You were so excited when I agreed.

It's almost as if no time has passed when we text (he changed his number in the last few years... no need for an embarrassing unblocking).

My friend, the one who convinced me to agree, helped me pick out an outfit. Thankfully for her, I won't stick out like a sore thumb in the crowd of feather boas and cowboy hats.

I really want this to work.

I want to believe that we can be good again. We can be healthy for one another again but I'll be worried until I see you.

Until we speak.

I won't let myself touch you, I have a feeling that it would be far too easy to fall back into a bed. Maybe a hug would be okay.

I'm excited for the show, to see the Superstar Harry Styles in action. After so many years you have to have evolved so much.

You aren't little Harry from Worcestershire anymore.

I'm not the same person I once was either.

See you tonight.

Break a leg,

Y/N

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n

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babyrubysoho-maiden · 1 month

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Scanlation: Hyakujitsu no Bara Ch38(13)

My English scanlation of new MR chapter from ihr HertZ (new chapter 13, old count 38).

Click here or here to get it.

This chapter continues the expanded version of Rosa Alba, and is bursting with symbolism. Also continues to fuel my fire of "wtf is Enrico's deal anyway?" XD

Check the master post at the top of my page for all my MR scanlations. Enjoy! :)

#hyakujitsu no bara #maiden rose #fusanosuke inariya #scanlation #taki reizen #klaus

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mybutcheredtongue · 4 months

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I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER FOUR (see full series list here)

1992

You awake on a regular Wednesday morning a few days before the return to school, groaning and stretching as you sit up in your queen-sized bed. The sun is streaming in through your windows, and you can hear birds singing their first few melodies of the morning.

You hear a very croaky meow from beside you and you look over to spot Dubh awakening from her slumber, seeming very angry about it being awoken. Dubh's actual bed is resting in the corner of the room, but it has long since been forgotten and she much prefers to sneak up onto your bed covers during the night. This little habit of hers means you've had to deliver a quick cleaning spell to her every night before bed, but you enjoy her company anyways. You reach out and pet her lovingly, scratching under her fluffy chin.

"Yes, yes, good morning, Dubh," you say. You yawn, trying to muster up the will to properly get out of bed, before eventually you manage to swing your legs over the edge of your bed and step onto the soft rug beneath you.

You throw on your favourite pair of jeans and a sweater to accompany it, taking a quick minute to wash your face before heading downstairs and into the kitchen. Dubh follows you the whole time, complaining as she waits for you to get her breakfast.

This is the home you've lived in for the past 13 years. The home yourself and Sirius had bought after you got married. It's small and cosy: exactly how you had wanted. The walls are covered with photo frames and beautiful oil paintings that look straight out of a dream.

The kitchen is charming, especially as it's lit up by the August sun. You push open a window to let some air in, waving your wand to pour out some cat food for Dubh. You click the kettle on and drum your fingers on the countertop as you wait.

At that moment you hear a small hoot and a light thud outside your back door. You leave the kitchen, unlocking the door to open it and spot a small folded package on the front step. It's the newspaper, the Daily Prophet.

You toss the paper on the kitchen table, humming as you prepare breakfast for yourself. Finally, when you've finished, you take your plate in one hand and your ready cup of tea in the other, sitting down at the kitchen table. You pull open the twine wrapped around the paper, unfolding it out.

You nearly spit out your tea when you read the headline of the front page and spot a familiar face.

Sirius.

Sirius Black.

Sirius Black has escaped.

Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban.

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck.

What the fuck?

You swallow hard, looking at the article again. Your heart is thumping. Your hands are trembling. You feel like you're about to be sick.

BLACK STILL AT LARGE

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.

'We are doing all we can to recapture Black,' said the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, 'and we beg the magical community to remain calm.'

You scoff. Fat fucking chance!

Fudge has been criticised by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

'Well, really, I had to, don't you know,' said an irritable Fudge. 'Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it — who'd believe him if he did?'

While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand which Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

You feel like you're dreaming. How the hell did he break out?

This article makes you feel so sick. The things they're saying — the things they've always said about him — they're not true. They can't possibly be true.

Sirius would never do that.

Your Sirius would never do that.

Your Sirius who kissed you on the Astronomy Tower.

Your Sirius who proposed to you in your first tiny London flat, lit only by candlelight.

Your Sirius who waited patiently for you at the altar.

Your Sirius who spoke in detail of his undying love for you during his vows.

Your Sirius who gave you the most perfect first dance you could ever ask for.

Your Sirius who spent your wedding night reminding you how much he loved you, gazing at you like you were the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, making sure there wasn't a single patch of skin on your body that went unkissed.

Your Sirius who bought you flowers every week, so the ones on your dining table were always fresh.

Your Sirius.

For twelve years you've maintained the belief that Sirius is innocent. There has got to be another explanation because the Sirius you know would never sell out his friends like that. He would never support Voldemort like that. He would never murder thirteen people like that! It's bullshit.

The Sirius you know would sooner die than rat James and Lily out like that.

Sirius isn't mad, like the way they say in that article.

Or maybe he is.

You wouldn't be surprised if 12 whole years in fucking Azkaban turned him loony.

Suddenly, there's a loud knock at your front door and you startle, dropping the paper.

What if that's him?

You slowly, apprehensively get up out of your chair, carefully walking to the door. You take a deep breath, and place your hand on the handle.

You turn it agonisingly slow and open the door a crack, peering out.

It's not him.

You don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

Well, you're definitely not happy anyway, as you're met with Cornelius Fudge and three other Ministry officials.

You gulp.

"Good morning, ma'am," Fudge says. "Can we come in?"

You sigh, nodding. "Yeah, yeah. Of course."

You open the door wide to let them in, wrapping your arms around your torso nervously. They walk into your kitchen, looking around and you gesture to the kitchen table with a nervous smile. "You can sit down there..."

The four of them sit. You notice how Fudge's eyes immediately land on the paper, and he looks quickly back up at you as you lean against the counter, anxiously fiddling with your fingers. Dubh's head lifts from her food bowl, eyeing the newcomers suspiciously.

"Tea, coffee?" You ask, forcing a smile.

The officials glance at each other, as if deciding whether or not it's safe to accept a drink from you.

"Um...no thanks," one squeaks, looking up at you fearfully.

You sigh.

"Ah, so you've evidently heard the news..." Fudge starts, tapping the paper with one of his large, pudgy fingers.

You nod wordlessly.

"Is it a...surprise?" he asks.

You blink at him. "Yes, Minister, of course it's a surprise. I hardly expected him to break out of bloody Azkaban."

"Yes, yes, it is a shock to all of us," Fudge replies, eyes glancing over at the wedding photo on your countertop. "Have you...heard from him? At all?"

"No."

"It's just that you are his wife, you would be the first person he'd run to."

You raise your eyebrows, folding your arms. "Oh? I would've thought you'd expect him to run to Voldemort?"

They all wince at the name.

Fudge sighs, trying to keep his composure. "Look, regardless of your personal feelings on the matter, Black is a criminal and — "

"You have no proof — "

"He is a convict!" Fudge snaps. "Regardless of whether you believe it to be wrongful or not, he is a convict! If you see him, you must contact the Ministry. The magical community is in shambles with him on the loose. People are afraid."

You scoff. "The magical community has been in shambles for centuries."

Fudge ignores your statement, standing up from his chair unsteadily. "We will have to monitor your home, in case he decides to...visit."

"Shocker."

"We — uh, we'll be going now," Fudge says semi-certainly, motioning for the others to follow. They all stand, narrowly avoiding you as they exit the kitchen. You see one woman flinch when you move. You feel a hand on your shoulder, looking up to see Fudge's red, fudgy face looking at you pitifully. "I am truly sorry, dear. Remember what I said."

You watch as the party leaves and you shut the door behind them. You groan, running your hand through your hair as you slide down the door and sink to the ground.

Dubh appears around the corner, plodding over to you. You smile weakly at her, petting her softly. You feel your eyes starting to water and you sniffle, lip trembling.

You shake your head in disbelief.

"What am I gonna do?"

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

You wave your wand, levitating your heavy trunk up onto the overhead carriage of your train compartment. Most teachers don't take the Hogwarts Express — they just apparate to Hogsmeade instead — but you find that apparition tends to distress Dubh immensely and don't do it. You don't mind it really, the train ride gives you that little bit of extra time to look over lesson material.

Lucky for you, you have the compartment to yourself and freely let Dubh out of her carrier. She stretches with a long meowl, moving to settle on your lap, and you spend the ride reading a book and looking over lesson material, though your mind keeps drifting from what you're doing, choosing instead to fixate on Sirius.

You have a sickening seed of guilt and worry circling your gut ever since you heard of his escape, an overwhelming sense of dread looming over everything you do.

Heavy rain pelts the window harshly, wind battering the sides of the train, rattling it loudly.

You glance out the window pensively, wondering what he must be doing right now. Maybe he's been recaptured and you just haven't found out yet. You hope he's not out in this weather.

If sixteen-year-old Sirius had been caught out in torrential rain, he'd be busy complaining to you about how it completely ruined his hair and you'd just have to listen on and on because truthfully, you liked his hair after the rain.

The train starts to slow and you sigh, starting to pack up your things. Then, your eye catches the window and you squint out into the dark surroundings. You're not in Hogsmeade — you're not even close to it. You've been on this train enough times to know that you have a solid 20 minutes or so left in the journey.

Maybe there's something blocking the track and you'll all just have to continue on foot?

Hardly.

You stand up, gently plucking Dubh from your lap and placing her onto the seat beside you. You slide open the compartment door and stick your head out, looking up and down the hallway. You know well that Professor Flitwick is inside along with some of the Prefects so you step out, closing the door behind you and moving to their compartment.

You open the door and look in at Flitwick and three students, shiny silver badges on their chests. "Hey, Filius. What's going on?"

Flitwick shrugs, straining his neck to see up out the window. "I don't know."

You bite your lip, turning around uncertainly. "I'll ask the driver."

Suddenly, the train stops with a jolt and you stumble into the wall beside you, knocking your head against one of the flickering lanterns. You groan, bringing a hand to rub at the sharp stinging in your temple.

You try to make your way up the carriage but before you can the lights extinguish with a small puff and you're plunged into darkness. Rooting around in your pocket, you fish out your wand and mutter, "Lumos." A small bead of white light appears at the tip, illuminating a short distance in front of you.

To your horror, you look up and are met with a dark cloaked figure that towers to the ceiling. Its face is completely hidden beneath its hood. You feel your breath hitch in your throat as the room grows cold, freezing cold, making the hairs on your arms stand up.

A Dementor.

"He's not here," you choke, but it doesn't seem to matter as the dementor draws a long, slow, rattling breath. "He — he's not — "

You feel an immediate sadness overwhelm you. You feel every stitch of joy being sucked from you, your body desperately trying to cling on to whatever it can. You hear Sirius' voice, screaming raw and pleading, and it feels like the pain in your head is magnified a billion times.

Before your last stretch of consciousness can escape from you, you grip your wand tighter and, summoning all your will and happiest memories, you yell, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A bright, blue light bursts forth from your wand, taking on the form of large, scruffy dog and chasing the Dementor as it glides away from you. You stumble back, chest heaving, placing a hand on the wall for support, before remembering about the rest of the students and you turn, sprinting back down the corridor to the other carriages.

You throw open the door, moving quickly as you throw glances in each compartment window, checking that everyone was alright. Was there only one?

As you continue down the corridor, you look in one compartment and see the back of a tall figure blocking your view. You breathe a sigh of relief when you see it's not a Dementor, and slowly slide open the door to poke your head in, trying to carefully look past the figure in front of you.

"Hey guys, everyone okay? I think — Remus?" You stare in shock at the tired face of Remus Lupin, currently holding a gigantic slab of chocolate in his hands, loudly snapping it into pieces. "What are you doing here?"

Beside him is Harry, Ron, and Hermione, looking between the two of you in surprise. Harry is as pale as a ghost, his hair messy and untidy.

"Guess I took your advice," Remus shrugs, handing everyone pieces of chocolate. He hands one to you and you accept it gratefully, biting off a piece with a loud crack. "Taking up the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

You grin. "Remus, that's brilliant!" You throw your arms around him and he chuckles, tapping your back softly.

You pull back, noticing Harry's shell-shocked face and turn to him in concern. "Harry, are you alright? You don't look too good."

"Dementor," Remus explains and you nod in understanding.

"There was one in my carriage too!" You say. "Bastards."

"Language."

"What? It's true!" You say in defense, looking back at Remus' unapproving face. You glance at the three thirteen-year-olds also present in the compartment with you. "Er — sorry, guys."

"I'm going to go talk to the driver," Remus announces, tossing a small bite of chocolate into his mouth.

You nod. "Alright, I'll go check on everyone else." Remus moves past you, but before he can go in the opposite direction to you up the train, you grab onto his arm. "Next time, tell me if you're coming. Could've saved me a very boring train ride."

Remus chuckles. "I was asleep the whole time, not sure if I'd be great company."

You just give him a knowing smile, heading down to the carriage to check on the other students.

→ all kinds of interaction appreciated ♡

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter five here!

p.s. it's easy to miss grammar/spelling mistakes when im editing it myself, so if you find any please let me know!! 💌

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #the marauders #marauders #angst #angst with a happy ending

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victorianpining · 11 months

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The Game is Now

(Well The Game is over a year ago, if you want to be technical about it)

I finally took the time to write up my notes and reactions to the original BBC Sherlock Escape Room Experience! Sorry in advance if things are a little vague at points, we only played through the room once and am mostly running off of iphone notes I wrote 13 months ago. I hope to be able to go back to try out the new Mind of Moriarty room during its run, if this one was anything to go by, it should be a fun time!

My usual disclaimer that while this is a TJLC slanted writeup, I'm just playing The Game for fun at this point, I really am not expecting any of this to lead anywhere. Enjoy your television responsibly, don't idolize television writers, eat your veggies, etc. etc. etc. And spoilers for the room, obviously.

Oh, and huge thank you to @watermotif @betweendoctorsanddetectives and @647763 (and her girlfriend) for playing the room with me! I had a blast suffering with you all <3

The way I'm getting myself to finally actually write this up is by telling myself it's okay if my thoughts are a little informal, especially after this long, so this is going to be written the way I usually structure my outlines in the format of chaotic bullet points. Hopefully it's still readable!

I'm starting my recap of the experience outside of the escape room itself, which was located in what was, for all intents and purposes, a random, abandoned seeming mall in London (it wasn't actually abandoned malls are just like that now)

So imagine you are just walking through what looks exactly like your local, very dead, mall, when there's just this massive wall with dark damask wall paper and the most DFP Sherlock quotes you can conceive of plastered on it. Think "I may be on the side of the angels but don't think for a second I am one of them" "heroes don't exist and if they did I wouldn't be one of them" "I'm a high functioning sociopath" etc. It's already hilarious

You come around the corner from that and there's the gated off "Doyle's Optometrist" office, where you have to page in (I think we had to state our group name, I can't remember exactly how we got in)

Once you're inside the staff helping you are named Stamford. Yes like Mike Stamford. Yes all of them. If you didn't know you were in for psychological torment, you do now

[brief intermission here because some of us arrived early, so they actually let us through to the Mind Palace bar while we waited. It was pretty cool, apart from the guy working there being really pushy about ordering drinks. The bar is Victorian themed with framed pictures from TAB and the biggest one in the room, like by far, was a framed picture of Sherlock and Moriarty's little gun standoff, so you know, that was fun.]

[here we are trying to be normal about it]

[also I went to the bathroom at this point and there was a little sign in the stall which said that the Sherlock theme song was exactly the right length to wash you hands to which was the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen in my life]

Anyway back to the intended order of the experience, Stamford led us back to the optometrist waiting room where we sat calmly while John Watson's voice read out random advertisements. (The only one of these I wrote down was "the eyes are the legs of the face" because it was so random, but there was a set of them)

Also as you will see in the following picture, the posters in here were Bananas

(In case you can't see it since it's small in dash, the purple one behind Mia says "Doyle's Audiographs: for those who hear but don't listen" very evocative of the "I did tell you but did you listen" motif, 0/10 very infuriating)

Stamford came over at this point and brought us back and gave us the rules, which included no photography so photos end here unfortunately

So we were taken to a projector room where John Watson addressed the players, saying that while it says the office belongs to Doyle, this is actually a front for one of Mycroft's plans (ha ha ha (deadpan)) and that he's coopted John into helping. (hah. do you get it? the author and the narrator? hillarious)

It was so clear that Martin did not want to be there. Like yes John in character also doesn't want to be there but Martin literally looked like he was being held at gunpoint. His eyes were dead. Poor guy.

Stamford led us through another room into the 221B living room! Being in here was surreal. Because there are a few groups lumped together at this point, we had a bit of time to look around the room. Rachel found a book about fetishes on the mantle, which was something.

We took our group picture, they let you pick from a few props. I went for the white queen chess piece for Dracula reasons and got bullied into wearing the deerstalker, which was homophobic.

Also the skull was the Yorick version, and I took a moment to stare into ACD's eyes, out of respect, as one does.

At this point the game proper begins! Sherlock's voice comes on (Ben is not on camera other than one brief exception which we will be coming back to later) and starts prepping us for our mission.

I don't remember the context but I think while telling us to be careful in the flat he told us "don't scrape your knees, or do." which was funny considering "the state of her knees"

Mycroft then addresses the audience (hah) only to be interrupted by Moriarty (hah) hacking the TV (hah hah hah)

The mirror above the fireplace? Also turns into a TV that Moriarty hacks. Ha. Ha ha ha ha.

Moriarty informs us that he has kidnapped Mycroft so the point of the game is to save Mycroft from Moriarty (I was fighting the urge to bash my head against the walls of 221b at this point, like I was expecting M Theory but like Come On you're killing me here)

You may be wondering how exactly Moriarty has kidnapped Mycroft considering he is dead. Great question! You don't get an answer apart from Moriarty saying "remember I am definitely dead" in the most sarcastic voice I have ever heard come out of Andrew Scott's mouth. Full psychological warfare at this point. Having a great time. The usual.

Also at this point, while talking about Mycroft, Moriarty compares him to Sherlock, and he definitely listed off a bunch of things but the part that most stood out was he said verbatim "Mycroft is like Sherlock without the fangirls or sex appeal" so uh. Um. Yeah. M Theory Time!!! All Aboard!!! Choo Choo!!!!

We were taken to the first of our three puzzle rooms: the morgue at St. Bart's. Moriarty is introducing the room and jokingly refers to the brief time he spent dating Molly, lets us know that our goal is to break into the computer system (a development which had me thrilled, you know I love the Moriarty as a Virus angle)

Not one full minute after Moriarty joked about Molly being his cover, Molly voice over talks to John (who by the way has a beard at this point, that I had not mentioned) and goes "nice beard!" Hah. Hah.

To get into the computer we needed to put in a date, I don't remember the context for this puzzle but the answer was 2012, the year of Season 2.

The case in the middle of the room then lights up and you're able to see the corpse. On the computer, a database comes in, and in order to get into the server, we need to fill out a series of questions about the identity of the corpse.

One of the filters is the relationship status of the corpse with three options, single, married m/f, and married m/m. I let out the most exhausted sigh of my entire life and hit married m/m without even looking at the corpse. (we briefly removed it because the room was giving us clues out of order that made us think for a moment that this was wrong, it was not, the corpse is gay, you have to not assume he's straight. Do you get it?) (war and strife on the planet earth)

So the clue for that is that the corpse has the name Stephen tattooed on him (really? of all the names? Stephen????) and you're meant to figure out that he wouldn't get a tattoo of his own name. Or just be so mentally exhausted that you intrinsically know the corpse is going to be gay because of course he is.

If that wasn't enough, the corpse was also a member of the Royal Navy who was left handed. Hi John.

At this point my friends in the room with me pointed me up to the TV in the corner, which was showing random news feed but the ticker tap at the bottom was advertising BBC Dracula, which was fun.

When we were finally getting into the cage the server was in, Moriarty kept ominously chanting "let me in"

Again, don't remember the context, but one of the clues in this room was identifying the heart

We discovered the corpse died of a horrific virus (hah) just as Moriarty hacked into the server thanks to us (once again was genuinely enjoying the code stuff, this is a 10/10 from me, makes fadow better for everyone who has done this silly escape room sdhgakjdsg)

The second room was Mycroft's underground office and our task from Moriarty was to locate where his agents were stationed throughout the world and once again send off his virus. I was giggling.

Flipping around with switches on Mycroft's desk, we found that the mirrors on either side of the room were actually windows! Because of course they were!

Sherlock comes in with a clue at this point and lets us know something to the effect of "Mycroft likes to hide clues in photographs" which was uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.... normal.

Those are my only notes for this room and I don't remember literally anything else about it so sorry about that on to....

The final room: The Victorian Operating Theater! Oh boy!!!

Moriarty has been using us to access the genetic code (hah) for a virus (hah) last scene in the Victorian Era (hahahahahahahaa). He literally phrases it as "an old treasure brought into the modern day." Hillarious.

Then the absolute highlight of the experience: there's this giant console thing in the middle of the room that comes to life with all these screens, and on them including Moriarty taunting us and, the absolute 12/10 winner, footage of Sherlock wandering around 221B. This is the only Ben footage you get and not only does it confirm the "Moriarty is always spying on Sherlock" part of M Theory, it's very similar to the wall of monitors I came up with for fadow. Fellow Moriarty fan Mia and I were dying at this as much as we were able to while still trying to solve the room.

Moriarty freed Mycroft but had infected us with the virus (this is why I joke that Moriarty gave me COVID, because I caught it this day and it might as well have been from him)

His plan was to unleash the virus on the world unless we could stop him

This room was more physical puzzles than mental, and we had to cure the brain, the heart, and the lungs respectively. The brain and the heart are obviously big Sherlock meta staples so since then I've been like "why the lungs tho?" My best guess is it has something to do with breathing new life into an old story, but that's just a guess

While we were solving it and making progress Moriarty came on to rant something like "the game was over! You should have known when to give up!" Flames, flames on the side of my face.

When we won, Sherlock insulted us, but Mycroft then came on to compliment our efforts and talents, which was a great way to leave off.

Apparently only 20% of people actually solve the room, and we were in the top 20% of that, all while trying to take in the meta of it all, go League of Furies!!!

Final thoughts: this really was like if watching the show was a thing you could live through in real time. If you've ever wanted to be tormented by Mofftiss in a more visceral way, this room is exactly what you're looking for. Also shoutout to Andrew, who acted his absolute heart out, 15/10 thanks for all the M Theory, it was delicious

Also once again to reiterate, I can't believe James Moriarty gave me COVID, after all I have done for him, rest in pieces except he isn't even dead all the way.

I guess 4 months of not being able to breathe fully was the real lungs meta all along.

Can't wait for the Mind of Moriarty game next though for real, that's gonna be Bonkers, if one of the scenes is a virtual version of the waterfall scene from TAB I think I would combust on the spot

Thanks for reading!!! Sorry this took me forever only to be such a casual writeup in the end, but hopefully this recreation of my mental breakdown in a mall was entertaining.

#rebs blogging #the game is now #tjlc

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the-obnoxious-sibling · 6 months

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“Being a pirate is all about going your own way.” // “Come with me, Buggy!!”

is this post totally redundant after the similar post i made last week? idk. i guess the main difference is that this time i’m looking at the same topic in an unambiguously romantic light? the shipper goggles, as they say, are on, and i want to talk about these scenes in that context. so, if you’ll forgive me for repeating myself a bit, let’s talk about this again:

as much as i enjoy the heartbreak of “they always thought they’d be together but miscommunication tore them apart” takes on shanks/buggy, the very first flashback we get about them—the first things we learn about them at all, really—tells us this isn’t true.

and i think what we get is more romantic.

Chapter 19, Pages 12-13. i know last time i said they’re at most 12 here, but looking at these lanky-ass teenaged designs that’s nuts. i fully believe oda hadn’t thought through their ages/the timeline at this point, and they were originally supposed to be about luffy’s age when buggy got his devil fruit. which is not relevant to this post in any way, but it’s my post so i get to go off-topic if i want.

Shanks and Buggy have their own goals as pirates, and at this time they understand them to be mutually incompatible. Buggy thinks Shanks’ travel-and-adventure-oriented take on piracy is soft and foolish; Shanks doesn’t care for Buggy’s exclusively treasure-focused take. They’re sometimes friendly, sometimes not, they’ve fought side by side, but they know this time as allies and crewmates is temporary. (Buggy plans on taking his treasure map and the Devil Fruit and leaving the crew immediately.) Maybe they’ll become friendly rivals, ‘fighting to the finish’ when they run into each other like Roger and Whitebeard do, or maybe the next time they see each other they’ll literally fight to the finish. Who knows?

“That’s also what being a pirate is all about.” It’s very sensible behavior. Smart planning for the future.

Which means the contradictory ways they act later—Buggy secretly deciding to follow Shanks, Shanks bluntly asking Buggy to come with him—are not about these characters thoughtlessly clinging to the status quo. They are not in a “we were always together and I never thought that would change” situation. Deciding to stick together is a considered, emotional decision: “I know we don’t make sense together but I don’t care, I want us together anyway.”

Chapter 1082, Pages 8-9. i was cursed the moment i saw these pages with Unable To Stop Thinking About It disease; only time will tell if seeing it animated makes it worse or cures me.

This argument is a codependent breaking point. Buggy’s pinned all his dreams on Shanks, hoisted that poor boy up on a pedestal, and it all falls apart when Shanks reveals thoughts and plans that don’t match Buggy’s perception of him. He can’t bear to be around him now that the false image has been revealed. (Shanks, poor thing, seems to have had no idea any of this was happening.)

But if Shanks hadn’t said no to Laugh Tale in this moment—or maybe if he’d offered a soft no of, idk, “okay, sure, once we’ve got a strong enough crew”—Buggy would have gone with him, still projecting wildly onto Shanks. He’d convinced himself that being a member of the Pirate King’s crew was enough for him, that he didn’t need to be Pirate King himself if Shanks got the title and he was with Shanks.

…but would he have actually liked being a member of that crew?

Like, looking at the things the Red-Haired Pirates do, would Buggy have enjoyed being one of them? Wandering East Blue, hanging out in friendly port towns, collecting treasure here and there but spending a lot of time getting drunk and making friends with the locals? Eventually becoming famous for having a large, weak fleet of subordinate pirate crews Shanks has to sometimes physically step in and protect?

God, no, he’d’ve been miserable. Just seething with thwarted ambition, furious at the perceived disrespect. A real power hungry first officer stereotype, the kind of character that makes you think, Why’s he working for this guy if he hates him so much?

And Buggy must have suspected it would go something like that. But if Shanks hadn’t rejected Laugh Tale, he would’ve gone with him anyway.

(Better to be miserable with you than a loser on my own.)

Or say Buggy agreed to come with Shanks. Obviously his presence wouldn’t change the crew makeup significantly enough to skew the Red-Haired Pirates towards his way of thinking, but for the sake of argument: if he had convinced Shanks to do things his way, would Shanks have enjoyed the kind of piracy Buggy engages in? Taking over and destroying East Blue port towns, ordering your crew killed on a furious whim, single-mindedly hunting down treasure maps and single-mindedly hunting down treasure chests and paying no attention to anything along the journey? Eventually becoming the boss and administrator for a bunch of bounty hunters and mercenaries?

No way; most of that behavior is totally repellant to Shanks. If he let Buggy do that kind of thing under his banner, you’d be left wondering What happened to his morals? Why does he let this guy walk all over him?

And Shanks knew the kind of pirate Buggy was and wanted to be. But he asked Buggy to come with him anyway.

(Better to be miserable with you than have fun apart.)

It’s hard to see a way to make these very different styles of pirating work together. It’s probably doable… with a lot of compromise and honest conversation. The younger Shanks and Buggy had a point, when they said each going their own way was the obvious choice! It was certainly the easier one. Was it the happier one? Who can say.

#i also keep thinking of that year after the roger pirates disbanded. did everybody REALLY go their own way?#or did the two youngest maybe stick together. for safety in numbers! not bc they’re afraid to be alone or apart or anything!!#they’re just. SO codependent after roger’s execution…#i really don’t think that was the first time they’d seen each other in a year.#shuggy #one piece #i’m sorry i can’t stop thinking & writing about them #eventually i’ll be able to have thoughtful opinions about other things again #maybe even about non-one piece things!! anything’s possible!#shanks #buggy #my meta #*the shuggy roguetown breakup #*shuggy miscommunication #.19 (devil fruit flashback)#.1082 (roguetown flashback)#*shuggy ironies #*buggy’s bad choices

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trigun-manga-overhaul · 7 months

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TRIGUN ULTIMATE OVERHAUL OCTOBER UPDATE

OVERHAUL UPDATE 10/07/23 - More future content and the Japanese scan upload schedule.

Hey there and welcome to yet another monthly update!

We hope you've been enjoying the new Japanese scans, and having that look at al the new formats for credit pages, chapter indexes, and upload banners. There are still a few things up for potential change, but these are the styles we will primarily use from now on.

Of course, as always, if anyone runs into anything they find strange, gives them trouble, or just general questions about the new upload, feel free to contact us and we'll answer as soon as possibly.

While uploading the Japanese scans, we're also planning on releasing some extra content on the side. While the cleaning work for the scans is the priority, we might clean a few other stuff on the side for release as well.

Few of these uploads in particular are the Trigun RED and BLACK booklets, which a very rare and a lot of their contents haven't been posted online yet. While we have the RED book on hand, we're still looking for the BLACK book.

We also have other things, like magazines, booklets, etc., to share in the future as well.

Anyway, we don't have any pictures to share today, but we will share the future posting schedule. If we update it, we'll make a new post with the new schedule. Will post it below for those who want to read further!

Thank you all for supporting and following our project!

The upcoming posting schedule will look something like this:

2023

October 27th: Trigun RED booklet.

November 6th: JPN Trigun Vol 2.

December 4th: JPN TriMax Vol 1.

2024

January 1st: JPN TriMax Vol 2.

February 5th: JPN TriMax Vol 3.

March 4th: JPN TriMax Vol 4.

April 8th: JPN TriMax Vol 5.

May 6th: JPN TriMax Vol 6.

June 3rd: JPN TriMax Vol 7.

July 1st: JPN TriMax Vol 8.

August 5th: JPN TriMax Vol 9.

September 2nd: JPN TriMax Vol 10.

October 7th: JPN TriMax Vol 11.

November 4th: JPN TriMax Vol 12.

December 2nd: JPN TriMax Vol 13.

2025

January 6th: JPN TriMax Vol 14.

February 3rd: Trigun - Multiple Bullets.

Remember that the posting schedule is up for potential changes, all depending on the speed of the cleaning process. This process also determines when it's possible to start putting the English release on the schedule as well, so stay tuned for any future news of further releases!

That's all for this update, next time will be after we begin the new uploads. Hope you enjoy it then!

SEE YOU GUYS NEXT MONTH!

#trigun #trigun maximum #trimax #trigun manga #manga #fan project #trigun overhaul #trigun ultimate #trigun ultimate overhaul #infodump #overhaul monthly update

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ivyinterrupted · 2 months

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Hiii! Welcome to my blog :) 🎀

I’m new so I just wanted to introduce myself!

INFJ ‎ ‧₊˚ 𓂃౨ৎ

୨୧ I’m a minor so don’t be weird <3

୨୧ birthday: Nov 5!

୨୧ pronouns: she/her

୨୧fav bands/artists: Lana del Rey, Lady Gaga, The smiths, Melanie Martinez, Laufey, beabadoobe, Faye Webster, The cranberries, CAS, Conan gray, coco & Clair Clair, Clairo, phoebe bridgers, The cardigans, Fiona Apple, mitski, TV girl, Tyler, the creator, Sabrina carpenter, & Taylor swift

୨୧ fav movies/shows: Mean girls, girl interrupted, Gilmore girls, Gossip girl, vampire diaries, legally blonde, but I’m a cheerleader, thirteen, Priscilla, 10 things I hate about you, pearl, Jennifer’s body, black swan, the virgin suicides, 13 going on 30, pretty in pink, Bridget jone’s diary, & Marie Antoinette

୨୧ where am I from: Mexico 🇲🇽

Literally me 🥰 anyway hope you guys enjoy my page!

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cosmerelists · 5 months

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Ranking Cosmere Planets By How Cool I Find Them

[Contains spoilers for all Cosmere! I'll list the books in the title so you can skip the ones relating to books you haven't read]

The Cosmere has some very cool planets: but which are the coolest? In this list, I will rank them by my own definition of cool, which I'm defining here as "Planets where my interest in past or future stories is chiefly driven by the nature of the world itself."

#13: UTol (From Yumi and the Nightmare Painter; this entry also contains a spoiler from The Sunlit Man)

UTol is the sky planet that Painter can see from the surface of his world, Komashi, and we get a glimpse of it just right at the end of Yumi. It's also possible we get a glimpse of the same world right at the end of The Sunlit Man, but I don't think that's confirmed. Anyway. It's an ocean world, and the inhabitants have four arms and may have originally been from Yolen. But we don't learn anything cool about the world itself, really. I guess the fact that it can always be seen even through the shroud that otherwise blankets Komashi--that's cool. But I don't know if that's UTol's doing. Maybe when we get more info, it will turn out this planet is super ultra cool and then I will look like a fool. But for now--eh. Oceans. With water? Yawn.

#12: First of Sun (From "Sixth of Dusk")

First of Sun is a hostile world with jungles and oceans and magic birds. It's cool--as all Cosmere worlds are in my opinion--but none of it had any special, extra coolness for me. I suppose I've never been much interested in parrots, and also its only feature story so far was quite short.

#11: Braize (From Stormlight Archives; this entry also contains a spoiler from The Sunlit Man)

I am legitimately curious about Braize, Roshar's "Hell" where the Fused were imprisoned by the Heralds. Like, what is Hell like in a material sense? I want someone to visit it (and I really want to know if Sigzil has been there himself, based on his mentioning a Hell visit during The Sunlit Man), and my curiosity makes it seem more cool. But not too cool, because for all we know, Braize is super boring. We just don't have enough info yet.

#10: Nalthis (From "Warbreaker")

Nalthis has some interesting things going on, planetarily. People don't always properly die, which anyone who cheated and already looked at my #1 planet already knows is something I enjoy. It has some unique cultures, which is also something I enjoy in a Sanderson world, although the differences are painted in pretty broad strokes. It's colorful. I don't know. I'm not super into Nalthis, but it definitely has some cool aspects.

#9: Taldain (From White Sand)

I have a shocking confession that I forgot to include in my authorial confessions list: I haven't actually read White Sand. At least, not more than a few pages before I got frustrated with how hard it was to read it on my phone, which is where I had access to it. Anyway. I do think the general set up of this planet is legitimately cool: tidal-locked, I think, with a Dayside and a Nightside which each have their own magic system. There's a lot of sand. Water matters. I think there are magic tattoos. So I can't rank this too highly myself simply because I don't actually know much about it, but it does seem "Top 10" cool.

#8: Scadrial (From Mistborn)

Scadrial has an advantage because it has Time Periods, and really is a pretty different world in Era 1 vs. Era 2. I have a dark fascination with Era 1 Scadrial: the ashfalls, the mist, the slow but inevitable apocalypse constantly creeping closer...would NOT want to visit, but it's cool to read about. Era 2 Scadrial is bright and shiny in comparison. I'm not much of a Wild West gal myself, but there are giraffes, and that ups any planet's coolness, even if it has lost its brooding volcanos. Oh! And I hope we hear more about the Southern Scadrians too.

#7: Sel (From Elantris and The Emperor's Soul)

I've been trying to judge these planets based on the planets themselves rather than on their magic systems...but on Sel, can you really separate those? The magic is based on geography, after all! Anyway, I like Sel because of the wild things going on with its pooled investiture. I don't understand computer programming and so I may or may not really get its magic, but I like the fact that it ranges from the stately, sometimes assholish Elantrians to Soul Stamping. It's all very cool.

#6: Lumar (From Tress of the Emerald Sea)

Lumar is very cool. Like, color-based aether seas that each react differently to water? Rain as a deadly but necessary thing? The color borders where one aether sea meets another? Sailing on something other than water?? I ate it all up. Tress's world is wild and creative and definitely lots of fun.

#5: Roshar (From Stormlight Archives)

It's hard to separate Roshar the planet from the people and stories there, as I think it's the Cosmere planet I've spent the most time on, metaphorically speaking. But I gotta say, the idea of a constant, world-spanning storm that spits out magic and death--that's cool. A whole world that's inhabited only by crab-versions of things? Well, I hesitate to call that cool exactly, but it is...something. Plus, so many different cultures and religions and ideas on Roshar, which I really enjoy.

#4: Canticle (From The Sunlit Man)

Listen, I love Threnodites. Wherever they pop up, they are doing wild things and refusing to properly die and having names that are...let's say unique. And Canticle is quite the interesting planet. Imagine--not being able to stay in one place because you're constantly fleeing from the deadly sun while trying not to get too far ahead lest to stray into the constant fire tornado. Imagine powering your ships with dead-people batteries and doing engineering with your captive ghost engineers. The place is tiny and super invested and also an incandescent lightbulb or something. Again, I would NOT want to visit but that world is damn cool.

#3: Komashi (From Yumi and the Nightmare Painter)

I think my love of Threnody really affects these top picks. Komashi doesn't have Threnodites, but it does have the weird creepy shadow monsters which I apparently...love? (Learning much about myself writing this.) But in all seriousness, I really like Komashi and I am so curious about it. The idea of Virtuosity and how she manifests as both magical paintings and magical rock stacking. I am so curious about the magenta and cyan coloring and how Sanderson says its based on printers somehow and that yes there is one color missing (what??). The way the inhabitants just lived in a thick shadow sludge with lights creating small habitable zones...like, again, horrifying but such a cool and creative world to explore.

#2: Yolen (No books so far)

Maybe Yolen is super boring. But it is SO mysterious that it can't help but be cool. I mean, this is where the Shattering happened! I think it's where Hoid is from. I think there are dragons. It's just gotta be cool, right?

#1: Threnody (From Shadows for Silence in the Forests of Hell)

But my favorite planet, for whatever reason, is Threnody. I am dying for another story set on that planet. I am so curious about what the Evil is, and I want to hear more about the people living in the literal Forests of Hell. The Shadows and the rules that you have to follow to survive them, the use of silver, the fact that Threnodites just can't catch a fucking break. I am fascinated by all of it, and I think that Threnody is the coolest planet in the Cosmere.

#cosmere #cosmerelists

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pluckyredhead · 1 year

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Since we are FINALLY getting a new Green Arrow comic next week, I wanted to talk about my favorite GA story in a very long time: “Earn It Back” by Dave Wielgosz and Mike Norton, which was part of last year’s DC’s Saved By the Belle Reve anthology. I picked up this comic because the solicit mentioned Super Sons and Gotham Academy stories, but the solicit, cover, and variant cover gave zero indication that there would be any GA content at all, let alone maybe the best Ollie + baby Roy story...ever??? (Side note: this is why I am Comics Georg. If you read EVERYTHING, you will eventually find treasure.)

The story takes place “years ago,” when Roy is in 8th grade. (For non-Americans, that means 13 or 14, depending on when exactly in the year it is. Roy’s birthday is in November so he’s probably 14 here.)

It starts with Ollie being called in to Roy’s school to speak to the vice principal, and oh man, Ollie is a disaster here:

There is so much to love already:

1. Mike Norton’s art! I always enjoy his work so much. Take it as given that for every page I am loving the art, so I won’t keep saying it. (Also this is a tiny detail but colorist Steve Wands picked just the perfect shade of green for Ollie’s shirt.)

2. “He’s not an idiot.” Already Ollie is in a defensive panic and absolutely flailing. It’s worth noting that Ollie has always and will always be someone who says the very first thought that comes to mind, and this is before he lost all his money and grew a social conscience so he is using thoughtless, offense language. But also, as will be made explicit by the end of the story, Ollie is not someone who did well academically. When Ollie uses the word “idiot,” he means himself. Roy himself once said Ollie is both proud and ashamed that Roy is so much like him and the fact that Roy phrased it that way makes my heart hurt, but it’s probably more accurate to say: Ollie recognizes that Roy is very like him and it worries him because he is intimately familiar with his own faults.

3. This story sits pretty completely within pre-Flashpoint continuity and characterization - it doesn’t match Roy’s New 52 or Rebirth backstories at all. And as a pre-Flashpoint fan, I do love that. But one thing that emerges from the mess of contradictory versions of Roy’s backstory in the New 52 is that it’s really easy to headcanon that version of him - eternally bored in school, miles ahead of the class and unable to sit still, eventually seeking solace in acting out and substance abuse - as neurodivergent, potentially ADHD. And this story also hints at those tendencies, which there is zero indication of in pre-Flashpoint. I just think it does a great job gracefully combining multiple characterizations of Roy so that no one’s is “wrong.”

Ollie: “Hey Barry. you’re a fucking nerd, right?” Barry: “...Yes. 😔”

ANYWAY LOOK HOW MUCH OLLIE LOVES ROY!!! HE THINKS ROY IS AMAZING!!

My single solitary issue with this story is that it posits that Bruce is someone it would be logical to turn to for parenting advice, but I guess this early on, before Dick started butting heads with him - let alone before Jason showed up - both Bruce and Ollie could be dumb enough to think he was.

I will never get over how cute Roy’s little face is when he’s talking about shooting Wally. I kiss him! I pinch his cheeks!

Weeks go by. Roy’s grades improve, but he’s miserable:

Truly Mike Norton is just drawing my headcanons at this point. Yes, that is what Ollie’s house looks like. Yes, that is how he dresses. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Look how mad the Titans are! Look at Garth stomping off! This is so cute, I’m dying.

Again, BRUCE IS NOT A MODEL PARENT. He’s so condescending here, too. AT LEAST OLLIE'S KIDS ALL MAKE IT OUT OF ADOLESCENCE ALIVE, BRUCE.

(The Dinah cameo is interesting, since she and Ollie don’t interact. It makes this story tricky to place in any prior continuity, since pre-Crisis she didn’t join the League until after Ollie had already grown his beard. I guess this could be the post-Crisis continuity established by JLA: Year One, because Ollie is clean-shaven in that book, which has the pleasing implication that she is a veteran founding member here and Bruce and Ollie are rookies.)

Anyway, it’s the VP calling to let Ollie know that Roy has been cutting school:

BABY IS ANGRY. Baby also has impeccable aim (of course), because oh man, telling Ollie he’s a tyrant and a fake and flaky is one THOUSAND percent hitting him where it hurts. “You gave up on me” oh BOY the abandonment issues started early.

Other things I love: how incredibly daddish Ollie sounds in the “Keep going, Roy” line. Also, “Being his friend didn’t work.” DAVE WIELGOSZ IS ALSO JUST WRITING MY HEADCANONS!!! I have said for literally decades at this point that Ollie’s early parenting style was permissive to a fault because Roy is his buddy! His pal! His little fella!

Like I said at the beginning, Ollie’s panicked “He’s not an idiot!” was not about Roy, it was about Ollie. He doesn’t want to see Roy make the same mistakes he did. (He should probably have told Roy about contraceptives then, but...) (Actually he did tell Roy not to get Donna pregnant in Teen Titans: Year One, but probably he should have been clearer about the means.)

Panel three makes me want to sob. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MU-HU-HUCH. (Ollie and Roy, I mean. Not Ollie and Vice Principal Parks.)

P.S. The posters on Roy’s wall! What a nerd!

😭😭😭

This is such a complicated little emotional beat and I love it. Roy has been so angry at Ollie but his immediate uncomfortable forgiveness and the way Ollie recognizes it for what it is is so good. (Also of course Robert went along with it, Robert Queen was trash.)

THEY LOVE EACH OTHER! OLLIE THINKS ROY IS THE GREATEST PERSON ALIVE! ROY SHOWS HIS FORGIVENESS BY ROASTING HIS OLD MAN!

(We don’t need to discuss the part where I’m pretty sure Roy never finished high school. It’s a happy ending for now, okay?)

Anyway, I love this story very very much and just wanted to gush about it. if the new GA book is anywhere close to this high quality, I will be very happy indeed.

#green arrow #oliver queen #roy harper #speedy

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