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stardancerluv · 2 years

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Blossoming of a Shy Violet

Part 7

Summary: You dance out your feelings.

Warning/Note: This is a 18 & + chapter! lyrics from Led Zeppelin’s Whole Lotta Love in italics! Virgin!Fem!reader, squint & see dom!Eddie, voyeur!Eddie, mention of rings & belt, fingering, and sleeping together. First time writing Eddie like this..hope I did good! And…don’t forget enjoy!

“Alright! Good night, dad!” You called from the doorway of your room. Closing the door, you leaned heavily against it.

You were just a jumble of emotions. Blinking, you spotted his hoodie. Tears welled up, but you swallowed them down. You remembered how Chrissy had looked as she had preened and moved in front of Eddie. Maybe if you moved liked that, you could catch his eye too.

You don’t know what got into you, but you had an idea. Going over to it, you quickly stripped down to your panties. Your bra sat on top of the pile.

Then grabbing his hoodie, you slipped it on. You fluffed your hair. Bringing the edge to your nose, you inhaled deeply. You really loved that autumn scent of his. It managed to push the tears that had wanted to come. It further fueled your idea. Leaving it unzipped, you walked over to your mirror.

Seeing yourself like this made butterflies flap madly in your stomach. You ran your brush through your hair. So this is how girls looked wearing a boyfriend’s hoodie, you mused. If only you were Eddie’s girl. You shook your head from side to side, enough sadness.

Tilting your head from side to side, you had to admit you didn't look half bad. You turned on the radio. You smiled, your favorite Led Zeppelin song was on. You resisted the urge to turn it up.

…honey you need it

I'm gonna give you my love

Want to whole lotta love

With a smile on your face, you began dancing around your room. Absently, you began imagine him in your mind’s eye. If only he could see you now. You swished your hips, you pretended to hid yourself. To play coy. These thoughts were making you flush. Your cheeks were so warm. You turned to your bed, in your mind’s eye you imagined if he was there watching you.

******

He was halfway back to the trailer when he stopped, the van rocked and his breaks squeaked. He decided one last time to try and reach you. Pulling a u-turn, he stopped a block from your house. Sticking close to the shadows, he made his way over to your house. There was only a single light on. That had to be your room.

He really hoped he had not made you uncomfortable. Why didn’t even you smile his way. He was worried, so worried. And this was very unlike him. No one shook him. You did.

He really hoped none of your neighbors were being nosey. It was a late. Taking a breath, he leaned over and peaked into the window. It certainly was yours!

He immediately looked away, he covered his mouth with his hands. His heart beat heavily and fast in his chest. He had to look again.

Looking again, he was completely entranced watching you. There you were, dancing around your room with only his hoodie and a pair of panties on. Damn, it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. The more you moved, the more he watched, and the faster his heart beat. He became incredibly aroused, he had to press a palm against himself. He needed to do something. Last thing he needed was to get arrested outside your window for lewd behavior.

It was too much, he almost choked as you crawled onto your bed. He was tapping on your window, before he even realized he was doing it.

He watched, that at the sudden sound you collapsed onto your bed. He repressed the urge to chuckle. You quickly gathered yourself and immediately wrapped the hoodie closer to you.

He gave you a sheepish smile, when you turn and saw him. He waved. Your surprised expression was actually the sweetest thing, he’d ever seen. But it did little to help his state.

“Are you going to let me in?” He finally mouthed to you.

You nodded. Eyeing the window, you finally undid the lock and opened the window.

“What are you doing here?” You hissed.

“Can I come in and explain?”

“Eddie?” You put your hand on your hip. A posture, despite the situation was growing to be one of his favorites. Right now, he especially loved how you stood there completely forgetting that now he saw quite a bit of you, while standing there.

“Sweetheart,” He breathed. “if a neighbor decides to look out any of their windows, this will look really bad. Please let me in.” He pleaded.

“Ok. Come in.” You opened the window wider. With a huff, he crawled in. He scrambled a bit before standing up and dusting himself off.

He closed the distance between you. “I see you are enjoying my hoodie.” Reaching over, he grabbed one of the edges of hoodie that rested against your thighs and tugged it gently.

You pulled back, easily wrapping it and your arms around yourself. Your flushed your cheeks did not escape him.

“Eddie, what are you doing here?”

He opened then closed his mouth, he could barely think. All he wanted to do was touch you. Run his fingers along your jaw or just drag his fingers along the area that the hoodie didn’t hide and stopped just where your panties rested on your hips. He swallowed. He could wait and he wanted you to want it too.

“I am worried I upset you.” He chewed on his lip. “You didn’t exactly crack a smile, my little nymph when I made my silly face.”

*****

Now, you don’t know where you got this strength from. Your knees felt wobbly. You didn’t even know how you were standing. You managed to take a step closer to him.

“I am not your little nymph.” You swallowed. You would not cry in front of him. “Chrissy, perfect miss head cheerleader, head of the welcoming committee,” You added sarcastically, inwardly you were shaking. “Is your nymph or whatever you call her.” Looked right up into his brown eyes.

“Chrissy?” He made a face. “Why would you say that?”

You rose an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

You sighed. “I saw the two of you walk into the pizza place.”

“Oh.” He pressed his lips together. “We’re not an item. We ran into each other in the parking lot.” He gestured to you. “And after what I just saw, I’m very glad I lent you my hoodie.” He flashed you a wicked smile. It made you tremble. “And well, I’m here because well, I had to see what was going with you, us.”

“So why was she preening and looking like she was going to devour you?” It was how you felt right now about him; despite how your stomach was twisting and twining into knots.

“One day, I will tell you” He looked away. You could practically see something pass through his eyes. It ripped the knots apart in your stomach. He looked completely lost.

And yet, when he finally met your eyes, that devil may care smile slowly spread across his face. He once again looked like the guy who made you smitten. It melted your resolve. Now, he took another step closer to you. There was no more room, unless you stepped back and you didn’t want to.

“If, I don’t kiss you right now I don’t know what I will do.” He whispered, he was breathless

Sparks burst and flew through you.

“You better kiss me.” You managed to say.

You don’t know how, but you were in his arms.

Easily, you lost yourself in the kiss. You just followed your instincts. You would have tried to remember all the romantic movies you had watched over the years but he stole away any logical thought.

When you two parted, you felt like your heart was going to burst through your chest. As your eyes met, you both shared a giggle. He kissed you again, his hands easily moved up and down your back. You closed your eyes and pressed against him.

Breaking the kissing he was breathing had become heavier. “Get onto your bed for me little nymph.”

You did as he told you. Reaching over you turned off your radio and just watched him. He pulled off his converse, followed by his black t-shirt. His belt still hung low on his waist holding his torn jeans in place.

Your bed gave as he came over you, smiling he as he laid on top of you, you happily opened your arms to him. His lips were soft as he nuzzled your throat. His weight felt good as you felt him press against you. Despite, the buckle of his belt pressing just so against you, it felt cool to you body that felt like it was heating up. Unsure what to do you continued to kiss him back, and your fingers nestled into his long strands.

You moved just the right way as you felt his lips on yours, on your cheek, throat and collar bone. You were literally buzzing all over. Easily, you were swept away by the kiss as he deepened. He tasted far better then you could have ever expected.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered, meeting your eyes. Pulling back, resting his weight on his elbow. He tugged on one of the sleeves. “Let’s take this off, yes? I want to see more of you.” Since the two of you were so close, you could feel that his heart was racing as hard as yours.

That’s when nervousness grabbed you. You blinked at him. “Eddie.” Your voice was small and you looked away.

His slender fingers came up and caressed your cheek, his rings felt cool as they grazed your skin. “I told you earlier, look at me when you talk to me.” He softly told you.

“I’ve never, I’ve never done any of this before.” You finally managed, swallowing.

He blinked at you, remaining silent. You shifted under him. His rough jeans felt good against your skin.

“We’ll take things slow.” He whispered and pressed soft kisses against your lips, you kissed him back. “Alright?” His eyes were soft and warm as he met yours, you nodded.

“Yes.”

“If you ever want me to stop or anything, tell me alright.” His mouth had become a firm line.

“Yes, I understand.”

He helped you shrug out of his hoodie then. You both let it fall to the floor beside your bed. His body was so solid and warm as he kissed you. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you nestled one in his hair. Which was so much softer then you could have ever expected.

When both of you parted, he leaned on his elbow. He nuzzled your nose. “You are an amazing kisser, nymph.”

You giggled, hiding your face into his chest. When you pulled back you looked up at him. Tentatively, you let your fingertip graze the the tattoo on his chest.

“You have a tattoo.”

“Yes.” He smirked. “Actually, I have a few sweet ol’ tatties. I’ll have to show you all of them, some other time.” Taking your hand, he placed it over his heart. “See I am just as nervous as you.” You could feel his heart thudding hard, you trembled as he kissed your finger tips. Shifting, he moved so he was now holding you closer to him.

You were so flushed as he looked at you. You covered your face with your hand.

“Don’t hide from me.” He gently took your hand from your face.

Cupping your cheek, he brought his mouth to yours and kissed you deeply.

A soft moan came from you, breaking the kiss as you felt his fingers run down your middle. He made a soft sound. “Does that sound good my little nymph?”

You immediately missed the feel of his touch.

“Good.” His voice was soft and gentle. “We best be quiet, we don’t want to wake anyone, do we?”

Your eyes grew while you shook your head at the thought. You had not even considered that.

“Shall I touch you again?”

“Yes, please.”

His finger tips roamed over you. You whimpered but catching yourself, you bit your bottom lip.

As he cupped one of your breasts, gently his thumb grazed nipple. You inhaled sharply.

“Does that feel good?”

You nodded, your breath shortening.

“Now I am going to make you feel even better but you better be quiet.”

“Ok.”

His bent his head down, his hair at first tickled you. Then you felt as his tongue ran over your nipple your body arched against him before you even realized what you were doing. You wanted more. A soft chuckled came from him. “Mmm, that’s my little nymph.” He murmured before you felt his tongue again, which was then closely followed by his lips.

As your breaths shorten further, you panted. You tried to suppress some of the sounds that wanted to pour out of you. “Eddie.” You softly whined.

“Feeling good?”

All you could do was nod as his lips and tongue teased, his other other hand caressed you. These sensations were almost too much for you. You felt this unbelievable tightening in your lower stomach. It kept building and building.

You whimpered, meeting as you felt him withdraw his touch from your body.

“Eddie?”

“I needed to see you.” His smile was gentle.

You smiled at him, your heart was racing and it was hard to think.

He kissed you again, eager and more confident then you had been earlier you kissed him back. Distantly, you felt one of hands smooth down you body till you gasped and arched into him. “Eddie.” You practically moaned against his lips, without even thinking you opened your legs to him. You could feel as he smiled.

“Oh, my little nymph you are so good and wet for me.” He rubbed you through your panties.

“Wet?” You were confused.

His hand continued to rub at you before that large hand cupped you, without thinking you moved against his hand. “I’ve been making you feel good?”

“Yes.”

He squeezed you. “Good.” It sounded liked be pulled the word softly from himself. “That will make you get very wet and slippery down there. It is your body’s way to prepare for me or someone to be with you.”

“Ooh. You made a soft sound, your pleasure was becoming stronger. “Eddie, touch me more.” You begged.

“I can do that.” He dragged his fingers up, they traced the lacy edge of your panties. “But tell me,” his fingers barely brushed under the lacy edge. “Have you ever touched yourself down there?”

“No.” Panted, bucking a little hoping his hand would touch more of you.

“You are so eager, I will make you feel so good. I promise.”

“I believe you.”

“I am glad. These panties,” His voice was tightening. “These are very pretty.

“Thank you.” You managed, you swallowed some air.

Very smoothly, let his fingers slip down the front of your panties. You looked at his hand and felt your excitement build, and looked back at him and could see how good this was making him feel. It was intoxicating.

“Oh my god.” You shook as his fingers rubbed at you. “Yes there.” He came across something, and it just made a small burst of pleasure blossom in your stomach.

“I won’t stop my sweet nymph.” He promised. His fingers moved, firmer and faster.

Your panting increased and you grabbed at your sheets.

“Kiss me.” He urged you.

You did. It grew sloppy, you moaned into his mouth as the pleasure his fingers gave you increased to unbelievable heights. Your moans turned to whimpers, your tongues moving together as you felt his fingers. The pleasure continued to build. Until you finally arched so hard and yet, he had managed to not stop holding you.

Just then in a feeling that was more of an eruption, you felt as your pleasure just exploded in you. You collapsed and melted back into Eddie’s arms.

“Oh Eddie.” You managed, blinking looking at him.

He smiled. “You came for me baby. You just came for me, and it was beautiful.”

“It felt amazing.” You were breathless.

You felt as he slid his fingers from you. It missed his touch before you realized they were no longer between your legs. You watched his stuck his fingers in his mouth. He closed his eyes and made a soft sound.

“Oh baby.” He slid his eyes open. “You taste so good. I can’t wait to lap at you down there.”

“Now now?” You asked still dazed from what you still felt yourself trembling from.

He chuckled, he smoothed some hair from your face. He gently nuzzled your nose with his. “Not tonight but soon, I promise.” He pulled back smiling.

You knit your brows together. “What about you?”

He smiled. “Oh, baby. You are so good to me already. That also can wait. Maybe later.”

“But, but..” He placed a finger to your lips.

“Soon, I promise. I can’t wait to feel your hands, your lips,” He gently patted your lip with his finger before he cupped you once again. “Or down there if you will allow me. But now, it is late and we both must sleep.”

Shifting, he moved and pulled you partially on top of him.

“You’re staying.” You looked up at him.

“For a little while, after that I don’t want to leave during your afterglow.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Of course baby.” He kissed your nose. “Now, try and sleep.”

*******

It actually didn’t take you terribly long. Your breathing leveled and your grip on him softened but even in sleep you did not let go. He smiled.

This was the first time he cared, or even had someone as precious as you. It made all of his cold, uncaring past fade into a mist. You had become so important to him now, his little nymph. As he nuzzled your hair, he was reminded of delicate violets. You were his delicate violet. He pressed kissed the top of your head.

Closing his eyes, he tried to calm his racing heart. He was harder then he has ever been. His hardon was tight against his jeans. Reaching down and careful to not wake you, he palmed himself a little. It did little to help. But as he held you a little tighter to him, he tried to focus on just how sleepy he was too.

******

“Kiddo?” There was a sudden sharp knock on her bedroom door.

Blinking, you woke and realized, Eddie was soundly asleep beside you.

“Yes dad.” You called out. Please…please don’t open the door, you silently prayed in your heart.

“Morn’in kiddo. Just telling you, Il left you a breakfast sandwich in the fridge. I got a morning shift and a night one, I will try and see you in between.”

“Alright dad. Bye.”

“Bye Kiddo.”

You heard the creak of his footfalls fade before you heard the front door close. Not long, after there was rev of his engine starting and soon you could tell he drove away.

You glanced at Eddie, finally feeling like you could breath.

A small smile touched his lips. “Morning, little nymph what time is it?”

You twisted in your bed. “Too early?” You said turning back to him.

He scrunched and rubbed his face before finally opening one then both his eyes. They were heavy from sleeping. “I guess I followed you and fell asleep hard.”

You giggled. “I guess so.” You felt a boldness, last night gave you. Reaching over, you gently traced his necklace that laid on his chest. “What’s this?”

He grabbed your hand and gave it a kiss. “One of my lucky pieces.”

“I like it.”

“Good.” He idly ran his fingers up and down you back.

“So what are we going to do?”

A smirk curled his lips. In the bright light of the sun that was bathing the two of you, a mischievousness glint entered his eyes. It caused a stirring in your lower stomach that until last night you had never felt before.

“I have a few ideas.”

@eddieswifu @underscorebisexualgirl @gabriella-gvf

@apocalypticwafflekitten @blackberries45 @buckymydarlingangel @mouthfulloftoothpasterry

#joseph quinn #fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things 4 #stranger things 4 fanfiction #stranger things 4 imagine #blossoming of a shy violet #part 7 #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluf #eddie munson angst #fanfic #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn imagine

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fridayyy-13th · 4 months

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20 questions for fic writers

tysm @three-magpies-in-a-trenchcoat for the tag!!

How many works do you have on Ao3? 4

What's your total Ao3 word count? 13,296

What fandoms do you write for? i used to write for the Hermitcraft fandom, but i've discontinued the one fic i started for it and moved on to The Magnus Archives. i've got a couple story ideas for other fandoms, but idk if they'll go anywhere.

What are your top five fics by kudos? well, i've only got four! but from most- to least-kudosed, there's: - Double Trouble (Hermitcraft, rated G, incomplete multichapter) - Know What Can't Be Shown, Feel What Can't Be Known (TMA, rated T, oneshot) - Time Enough to Spend Some Time Alone (TMA, rated T, oneshot) - Here, Nowhere, Somewhere With You (TMA, rated G, oneshot) and i'm totally not salty my two most kudosed fics are an incomplete work and something i posted at 3am, respectively.

Do you respond to comments? hell yeah! i love answering comments <3

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? gotta say Time Enough, bc it's more refined than its predecessor, Know What Can't Be Shown (man i really need to stop giving my fics such long titles, i always end up shortening them when referring to them). but for reference, both are pre-Unknowing jmart kiss fics; it's a favored headcanon of mine. Time Enough also spends more time musing on how Jon and Martin are feeling—that is, they feel Bad. Absolutely Terrible. sad and scared, both for the Unknowing and for each other.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Here, Nowhere, Somewhere, absolutely. the ending itself is pretty open, but Jon and Martin have reunited post-MAG 200, admitted they still love each other after its events, and found themselves Somewhere Else. it's the most hopeful.

Do you get hate on fics? not yet, thankfully. i'm not a well-known enough author for that lol.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? i do not! and i doubt i ever will. props to everyone who does, though.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? i don't really write crossovers, at least none i ever planned to publish, but i do have a couple fusion AUs in the works (that is, taking one story's premise and combining it w/the characters of another). and funnily enough, both are based on songs.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? i sure hope not.

Have you ever had a fic translated? no. though if someone offered to, i'd be honored!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? technically? a friend of mine and i made a couple AUs for a few different MCYT fandoms that never really went anywhere, but i've never co-authored something that's made it to publishing.

What's your all time favorite ship? probably jonmartin. i've read a ridiculous amount of fanfic for them, and i think pretty much all my WIPs feature it if both Jon and Martin are there (sometimes i'll make them queerplatonic, and sometimes they'll be part of a poly ship like jongerrymartin, but jmart tends to be pretty Do Not Separate in my mind lmao).

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? ages ago i was reading this one rom-com webcomic where two people wound up as roommates bc the landlord accidentally rented the single apartment to both of them, which i thought was a really cute premise, but then BAM there was some really awful transphobia in it. when called out in the comments, the author doubled down, so i snatched up the concept and decided "i'm gonna make this t4t out of SPITE." but uh i've found spite doesn't work very well as a fuel source for my work, and i can get the same awkward domesticity/mutual pining out of a safehouse fic, so it'll probably just stay buried in the WIPs folder.

What are your writing strengths? dialogue. or at least, making a character's dialogue sound like their voice. vocabulary, things like stammering or using filler words, cutting oneself off or pausing a bunch, that sort of thing. though sometimes the dialogue itself feels a little clunky. i also think i'm rather good at writing emotional scenes, especially once i'm in the editing stage of things.

What are your writing weaknesses? over-editing. my utter beloathed. i sometimes get really caught up in trying to make everything as clear as possible, when that just makes the work 5,000 words too long and takes way more time to do. i'm trying to be better about it.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? i think it's neat! but if you're monolingual you should read up on writing bilingual/multilingual characters beforehand, don't just wing it.

First fandom you wrote for? probably Pokémon? i'm not entirely sure.

Favorite fic you've written? Time Enough, hands-down. (though uh, hypothetically, if i wanted to make some small edits to it, would it be weird to do so? especially seven months after posting? there's a handful of lines i wish i'd phrased a bit differently.)

tags (no pressure!!): @radical-dadical-rafael @dramaticdads @winterswrandomness @ollieofthebeholder @ladydragonkiller @incandescentis @cornmazehater @jewishjon

#tag game #friday's fics #beloved mutuals #magpie tag #re: the edits for Time Enough—i noted them all down a couple months ago #some of them are probably too minor and i won't end up changing them #but others bug me every time i re-read the thing #but also yknow it's been seven whole months and i'm like ''ehhh that's a long time maybe i should just leave it''#so i figured i'd ask you guys & get some second opinions

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s4crificial-a · 1 year

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@eternasci ; What intrigues you more? Intrapersonal or Interpersonal character focus? E.g., your character's inner conflict, or conflict derived from external sources, such as another character?

UNPROMPTED !

okay, i love this. so. intrapersonal, meaning occurring within the self, or one’s mind—that is my style. i put a lot of emphasis on what’s going on inside my muse’s mind because my muses are mentally ill and it’s fascinating to know how they navigate the world. they have so much internal conflict, that any external conflict usually sends them over the edge. and i do this for many reasons.

it’s about context, as in, what you’re writing and who you’re writing for. if i was writing a novel, i’d have more external conflict because all the muses are mine and i know what they’re gonna say and how they react. when you’re roleplaying, i don’t care how much you plot, you have no idea how your partner’s muse is going to react to certain things. so instead of focusing on something you can’t control, it’s easier and more engaging for me to go inward.

take beck for example. if i didn’t go deep into his mind, he would just be crazy and weird. but because i’m focusing on what’s going on inside, now people know that he has a mental illness and it literally affects everything he does because he’s undiagnosed and unmedicated. now you know why he’s smashing furniture. it’s because destroying things and creating chaos makes him feel in control.

same with tsurya. tsurya is the main reason why i go so deep because people need to understand that he’s just not some sad dude who can’t get over his trauma. this man is broken, so the way he views the world is very important when it comes to interacting with other people and conflicts. he cannot handle conflict. that’s why it makes sense, in his mind, to go to extremes because he lacks emotional regulation. his brain does not have the capacity to think of future consequences because of his complex PTSD. he is always stuck in the past.

now, back to the main point. i don’t know if people are aware of this, but when you create a character to be played on this hellsite, they are not going to survive without a strong internal conflict. why? because they rely too much on outside interactions/conflicts to sustain their character and you need something to fuel these interactions beyond bumping into one another.

a great example of this? beck. at face value, he’s a nice boy. okay, cute. that’s a cute character. but what if i open up and reveal that he’s fake? what if i made him have anger issues resulting from his abusive relationship with his dad? what if i make him manipulative because he learned that from his mom? what if he has some unresolved trauma from being this so-called nice boy? what if he’s sick and tired of being nice in this messed up world?

suddenly, we have a person.

everyone IRL carries these intrapersonal conflicts, that’s what makes characters relatable. going back to beck, who is my most popular muse. his intrapersonal conflicts influence how he reacts to interpersonal conflicts. and that’s what makes beck, well, him. (same goes for all my muses!)

in short, it’s never about one or the other. it’s about how one influences the other. they’re supposed to be in tandem. that’s where the characterization comes from aka how your muse interacts with the world. both intrigue me, but intrapersonal is my favorite.

#eternasci #{ ooc } — it be yara.#/ i feel like you asked me a simple question and i just ranted #/ did y'all know that i'm qualified to teach college level writing #/ >.> everyday ya learn something new about yarabara #/ but if you read my writing and catch mistakes ssssh no you didn't-#/ lmaoo

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foxofthedesert · 10 months

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youtube

Behold my current ear worm. Eye of Night by Trees of Eternity. A haunting yet poignant and lovely offering composed by lovers going through one of the worst trials a couple can endure. One battling cancer, the other watching helplessly as that cruel disease destroyed what he loved most. An entire album overflowing with near palpable suffering, gratitude, despair and hope. The sacred offering of a melodic memorial by a heart stricken by grief to an angel that left this world way too soon.

There is something so beautiful about sadness to me. I can't really explain it. Oh, sure, I'm all about energetic music when working out, peppy tunes when I'm in a rare good mood, and aggressive music when I'm angry. But melancholy is the blanket I wrap myself up in to find meaning in an existence I could never fully understand in a thousand lifetimes. It colors the lens through which I view my surroundings, casting them in varying shades of gray and blue, so that I tend to notice misery more readily than bliss. And as it so happens, it also greatly informs my taste in music.

I've never been a particularly happy person. Probably never will be. I have an affinity for the darkness that the light only just manages to keep in check. When I have brainstormed lengthy pieces of fiction in the past, I always began with pain or grief or sorrow as the touchstone for my imagination. Never happiness. Never joy. Those things are not fuel for my muse. I dwell on tragedy and heartache, and the characters I love most would - if they could - attest to that.

My soul, it seems, is written of minor chords, interspersed only sparsely with majors lest the composition stray too far into the black margins of inescapable gloom. My music therefore is moody; it's dissonance and harmony warring for dominance, a somber verse over a promising chorus with a percussive anvil keeping the rhythm. I crave that feeling in my chest, that burning tightness and discomfort on the edge of tears, that mournful songs elicit. It needs to hurt to move me, to inspire me, to make me feel something profound I can't quite put words to.

As may be obvious, I am not a blue skies individual. The darkening clouds and driving rain and rolling thunder are my cherished friends, my constant companions, my faithful comforters. But that doesn't mean I don't love basking in the warmth of the sun in season. Rather, I find that teetering between the poles of perspective makes me more appreciative of the necessary role both play in navigating the human condition. What's tricky in my estimation is avoiding the extremes, and thankfully that's something I am getting better at with time.

Balance is difficult but not unachievable. And that gives me hope.

#trees of eternity #eye of night #music

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ryder-s-block · 1 year

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Jaig Eyes (Ch 84)

Jaig Eyes (84/?)

Summary:

Kida, a former slave who now thrives as a bounty hunter, finds herself sucked into the war she advised Jango Fett against. Now that she’s involved, she has to finally mourn the loss of Jango, seeing his face in the clones that man the GAR. What happens when she allows herself to get attached to one, not for his resemblance to her former mentor, but for his heart?

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Chapter 84: A Calming Cup of Tea

Embo stayed the night in one of the spare rooms in the back of my club. They were meant for my workers to stay in, but they weren’t always actually occupied. Workers came and went, after all.

After fueling up his ship and giving him some supplies for the road, the bounty hunter was gone. I was sad to see him go, but I’d especially miss Marrok. The anooba had snuck up to my chambers to cuddle in the middle of the night and it’d been the best surprise anyone could ask for. I’d seen him rip men to shreds, but he was also a sweetheart–if he and his owner liked you, that is.

I shrugged on a jacket as I walked down the winding stairs from my office. The club was closed in the mornings, the cleaning crew working their magic to make my establishment shine again. The bar itself was empty, Earl likely sleeping off the busy night. Rouva, however, never seemed to need rest.

“You’re out early this morning,” she observed from where was sipping her morning brew. Her pale violet legs were folded lazily over the lush pillows of the booth, her robes emerald green and pooling over her thighs. “Tea?”

“No thanks,” I forced a smile, despite my exhaustion–I’d been up all night worrying over Hardeen. Had the Jedi captured him? Why hadn’t I heard anything? How was Dooku connected, if at all? And what was the Jedi Council hiding?

“What’s the rush?” the Twi’lek called as I moved to rush past her. I stopped, sighing while I dragged my hand down my face in hopes of wiping away the tired expression. It probably didn’t work, considering the deepening of Rouva’s frown when I turned back to her. “What did you and Embo talk about?”

I shook my head. “Something isn’t right,” I allowed.

She gave me a sad look, opening her hand to me. “You’re grieving, Pika. I know nothing feels right.”

“That’s not what I mean,” I brushed her outstretched hand away. Rouva only scowled at me. “I’m not in denial either,” I promised, chewing my lip, “even though it’s going to sound a lot like denial.”

Air whistled gently through her bejeweled nose as she sighed. “I really do insist on tea. You seem like you need it.”

Maybe some caffeine and a talk to get my thoughts in order would help. I didn’t sleep, after all. And it wasn’t everyday someone went to speak to the Jedi Council. Though I seemed to be making a habit of it.

I sat with a heavy sigh, accepting the hot cup Rouva slid across the polished table. “Embo told me about a job he and a slew of other top-tier hunters were invited to.”

Her elegant brows lifted. “That’s a lot of manpower. The client is an ambitious sort,” she mused before asking, “Do you know who it is?”

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13221379/84/Jaig-Eyes

#star wars #stars wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars oc #captain rex #captain rex x oc #Kida Fett #Daughter of Jango fic #Coruscant #comfort #cup of tea #obi-wan #Ahsoka Tano #the Jedi Council

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attemptsonherlifepdf · 3 years

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bojack horseman and bo burnham: the art of acting like you’re acting and the comedy of misery

at the core of bojack horseman, raphael bob-waksberg’s 2014 comedy, is a story about the relationship between performance and depression. the protagonist of this renowned tragicomedy is best described as a sympathetic villain; he is shown to clearly be in the wrong across various events of the show, and is explicitly referred to as a bad person, but the audience is granted deep access to his personal struggles, resulting in some portions of the audience finding themselves on bojack’s side. the duality of his character is complex, but can be broken down into some core components, that all stem from the impacts of stardom and performance. the standup comedy of bo burnham arguably echoes this sentiment in real time. having been a performer from a young age, burnham creates work that serves as a satirical commentary on the life of entertainers. he uses original songs to explore the reliance upon and resentment for his performative nature both onstage and within his personal life. both the comedian and the netflix show are widely understood to be thinly veiling their critiques of the entertainment industry behind a particular brand of witty and absurd humour.

both bojack and burnham’s content openly criticises their audiences and explicitly states the manufactured nature of the narrative the audience is fed. in the fifth season of bojack horseman, the show satirises itself by having bojack star in a police procedural drama, parts of which are actively written by other characters to reflect events of bojack’s life. the titular character he plays, philbert, is the epitome of selfish male angst, and an example of what bob-waksberg’s show could have been; another story about a sad and angry man whose guilt supposedly makes up for the people he has hurt. according to bojack, philbert teaches us ‘we’re all terrible, so we’re all okay’, an interpretation that is harshly disputed by diane: ‘that’s not the point of philbert, for guys to watch it and feel okay. i dont want you, or anyone else, justifying their shitty behaviour because of the show.’ this moment is a direct reaction to some of the online reception bojack horseman has received. various circles of the show’s fanbase have found themselves relating to the protagonist to the point of defending his untoward behaviour, a response not intentioned by the show’s creators. this is not the only example of bob-waksberg’s ability to make his work self-evaluative. in season six’s exposure of bojack and sarah lynn’s problematic relationship, characters question their sexual encounter from the first season. the writers use this as a way of examining their own choices, and the harmful tropes they played into when using this exploitative sexual encounter as a gag. this self-evaluative quality is what sets bojack apart as a show that assesses the performance it participates in, much like the comedy of bo burnham.

bo burnham is known for directly addressing his audience, particularly in terms of discouraging idolisation and parasocial relationships. some examples of this manifest as responses to hecklers rather than a planned bit in the show, for instance:

heckler: i love you!

bo: no you don’t

heckler: i love the IDEA of you!

bo: stop participating!

he actively addresses the issues posed by being an entertainer, and encourages the audience to understand and recognise that his onstage persona is just that: an exaggerated persona. not once does burnham claim to be fully authentic onstage, and even moments of authenticity we see in his latest special, inside, are staged. we make the assumption that having the physical setting of a stage stripped away grants us a more personal look at the entertainer’s life, but he makes it clear that even in his own home we still see the aspects he has carefully constructed rather than the full truth. arguably though, parts of the show really are authentic; in his monologue during make happy, bo deconstructs his own show in a way that is similar to bojack horseman’s later seasons, admitting that all he knows is performing and thus making a show about the more mundane and relatable aspects of life would feel ‘incredibly disingenuous.’ in his attempts to separate himself from this onstage persona he actually manages to blur the lines between what is acting and what is now part of his nature as a result of his job. this notion is echoed in bojack horseman as bojack’s attention seeking nature is attributed to his years acting in front of a camera every day.

bo suggests that the era of social media has created a space in which children’s identities mimic that of an entertainer like himself, describing the phenomenon as ‘performer and audience melded together.’ in this observation he criticises the phenomenon. bo attempts to force the audience to recognise the ways in which their lives are becoming shaped by the presence of an audience and to some extent uses his own life as a warning tale against this. he points out the way in which the ‘tortured artist trope’ means that your cries for help or roundabout attempts of addressing mature themes such as substance abuse, mental illness and trauma become part of that on stage persona and therefore become part of the joke. both bo and bojack address these topics in more discrete manners earlier in their careers, but this eventually becomes expected, and thus they are forced to explicitly detail their struggles with these topics in order to be taken seriously. even then, portions of the audience are inclined to see it as part of the persona or as something that fuels the creators creativity and thus does not need to be addressed as a legitimate issue. the emphasis on creating a character or persona promotes the commodification of mental illness: any struggle must be made into a song or a joke or a bit, must be turned into part of the act in order to have value. this actually serves to delegitimise these emotions and create a disconnect between the feeling and the person, as it becomes near impossible to exist without feeling as though you are acting. even when an artist’s cries for help become blatant, they continue to go ignored because now they serve the purpose of creating content that criticises the industry they stem from. online audiences can be seen as treating bo burnham and his insightful work as existing to demonstrate the negative effects entertaining can have, and because this insight is useful or thought-provoking to audiences, he is almost demanded to keep entertaining and creating. in response to this demand, his work becomes more meta and his messages become clearer, and the more obvious his messages, the more people he reaches. this increases audience demands and traps entertainers in a cycle fraught with internal conflict.

during bojack’s second season, bojack’s date asks him, ‘come on, do that bojack thing where you make a big deal and everyone laughs, but at the same time we relate, because you're saying the things polite society won't.’ this moment exemplifies how aspects of his genuine personality have now become a part of his persona and this is demanded of him in genuine and serious situations, undermining the validity of his emotional reactions. he immediately makes a rude comment to the waitress at the restaurant they’re in and satisfies his date by performing that character he has set himself out to be. some circles of the fan base have argued that bojack is written as a depiction of somebody with borderline personality disorder, offering a psychoanalytical lens through which to view this notion of performance. a defining symptom of borderline personality disorder is a fluctuating sense of self; having grown up on camera, being demanded to perform to others as young as six years old, bojack’s sense of self will have been primarily dictated by the need to act. whether this acting is for the sake of comedy, or as a representation of masking his mental illness, when they need to act is taken away bojack entirely loses his sense of self and relapses into his addictions: ‘i felt like a xerox of a xerox of a person.’ burnham’s depictions of depression run along a similar vein; in his new special he poses the idea that his comedy no longer serves the same personal purpose it once did for him. he questions ‘shit should I be joking at a time like this?’ and satirises the idea that arts have enough value to change or impact the current global issues that we are facing. burnham’s ‘possible ending song’ to his latest special, he asks ‘does anybody want to joke when no-one’s laughing in the background? so this is how it is.’ implicit in this question is the idea that when the audience is taken away and there is nobody to perform his pain to, he is left with his pain. instead of being able to turn his musings and thoughts into a product to sell to the public, he is forced to just think about them in isolation and actually face them, an abrupt and distressing experience.

the value of performance and art is questioned by both bojack and burnham, particularly during the later years of their respective content. burnham’s infamous song, art is dead, appears to be a direct response to the question ‘what is the worth of art?’ he posits that performing is the result of a need for attention (‘my drug’s attention, i am an addict, but i get paid to indulge in my habit’) and repeatedly jokes throughout his career that the entertainment industry receives more respect that it deserves (‘i’m the same as you, im still doing a job or a service, i’m just massively overpaid’). his revelations regarding the inherent desire for attention that runs through all entertainers is frequently satirised in bojack horseman. bojack is comically, hyperbolically attention hungry and self-obsessed, and the show has a running gag in which he uses phrases along the lines of ‘hello, why is nobody paying attention to me, the famous movie star, instead of these other boring people.’ his constant attempts to direct the focus of others towards himself result in bojack feeling like ‘everybody loves you, but nobody likes you.’ his peers buy into his act and adore the comical, exaggerated, laughable aspects of his character, but find very little room to respond to him on a genuinely personal level because of this. interestingly, bojack appears to enjoy catering to his audience and the instant gratification it produces, whereas bo burnham becomes increasingly candid about his mixed feeling towards his audience. ‘i wanna please you, but i wanna stay true to myself, i wanna give you the night out that you deserve, but i wanna say what i think and not care what you think about it.’ he admits to catering to what audiences want from him, but resents both the audience and himself in the process as it reveals to himself which parts of his character are solely for the sake of people watching him.

within bojack horseman, this concept is applicable not only to the protagonist, but to the various forms of performer demonstrated in the plot. towards the show’s end, sarah lynn asks ‘what does being authentic have to do with anything?’ to which herb kazzaz responds, ‘when i finally stopped hiding behind a facade i could be at peace.’ this highlights the fact that because entertainers are demanded to continue the facade, they do not receive the opportunity to find ‘peace.’ this sentiment is scattered throughout the show, through a musical motif, the song ‘don’t stop dancing.’ the song stems from a life lesson bojack imparted to sarah lynn at a young age, and becomes more frequently used as the show progresses and bojack’s situation worsens.

sarah lynn is also used to explore the value of entertainers; in the show’s penultimate episode, she directly compares her work as a pop icon to the charity work of herb, arguing that if she suffered in order to produce her work. it has to mean something. she lists the struggles she faced when on tour: ‘i gave my whole life...my manager leaked my nudes to get more tour dates added, my mom pointed out every carb i ate, it was hell. but it gave millions of fans a show they will never forget and that has to mean something.’ implicit in this notion is the idea that entertainment is the epitome of self-sacrifice. there is a surplus of mentally ill individuals within the industry, largely due to the nature of the industry itself, but some may argue that the cultural grip the industry has, and the vast amounts of respect and money it generates annually, gives the suffering of these prolific individuals meaning.

the juxtaposing responses entertainers feel towards their audiences manifest as two forms of desperation: the desperation to be an individual who is held accountable, and the desperation to be loved and validated. we see both bojack and bo depict how they oscillate between ‘this is all a lie’ and ‘my affection for my audience is genuine’, or between ‘do not become infatuated with me im a character’ and ‘please fucking love my character i do not know how to be loved on a personal level.’ bojack explicitly asks diane to write a slam piece on him and ‘hold him accountable’, similar to bo’s song ‘problematic’ in which the hook includes the phrase ‘isn’t anybody gonna hold me accountable?’ for his insensitive jokes as a late teenager. their self-awareness is what enables their self-evaluative qualities, but self-awareness is its own issue. bojack grapples with a narcissistic view of his own recognition of his behaviour before settling on a more nuanced, albeit depressing take. originally he makes the assumption that in recognising the negative aspects of himself, he is superior to those who behave similarly: ‘but i know im a piece of shit. that makes me better than all the pieces of shit that don’t know theyre pieces of shit.’ eventually, during his time at rehab he is forced to reconcile with the fact that self awareness does not, to put it bluntly, make you the superior asshole, it just makes you the more miserable one. the show does, however, make a point to recognise how the entertainment industry protects ‘pieces of shit’, prioritising their productive value over how much they deserve to be held accountable, demonstrated using characters like hank hippopoalus. the show itself obviously stems from the entertainment industry, as it is a form of media produced by netflix, one of the most popular streaming platforms available. bojack horseman and bo burnham represent the small corner of the industry that is reflective enough to showcase the damage it inflicts. this is powerful in terms of education and awareness, and urges audiences to question their own motives and versions of performance, but the reflection alone is not powerful enough to help the artists in question. burnham’s candid conversations surrounding his mental health continue to reveal a plethora of issues somewhat caused or sustained by the nature of his career. within bojack horseman, bojack is only able to stop hurting other characters when those characters construct a situation that forces him to face consequence, his introspection alone is not enough. while bojack ends on a message of hope, suggesting to the audience that reverting back to the status quo is not the only acceptable way for events to end, it leaves stinging lessons and social commentary with the audience regarding the unnatural and damaging narrative that performers live through. on a similar but markedly different note, bo burnham’s work and personal progression is playing out in real time, and not in a way that is as raw and genuine as it appears. each bit is planned, even the most vulnerable moments that appear unplanned and painful. his latest special is not entirely devoid of hope, but does translate to audiences as a somewhat exaggerated look around the era of social media and the development of performance, using himself as an example.

the absurdist humour that often acts as a vehicle for poignant statements or emotionally provocative questions is very specific to each media creator. bob-waksberg’s use of puns, tongue twisters and entirely ridiculous circumstances served to simultaneously characterise his points as an expected part of the show’s style of humour, similar to bojack’s emotional instability, but also to make them appear gut-punching in comparison to the humour. burnham’s work is similar in that poignant but blunt statements are often sandwiched between absurd and exaggerated jokes, making them stand out via contrast but not giving the audience too much time to dwell upon them as they are said. performance art is second nature to entertainers, and is presented a an issue that is infiltrating the general population via social media rather than solely affecting the ‘elites’. bojack horseman and bo burnham present the duality of artists simultaneously attempting to level the playing field and increase their chances of survival in the industry, and encourage audiences to know that everyone is bluffing and you’ll never have the right cards anyway.

i.k.b

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onestowatch · 3 years

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19 LGBTQIA+ Artists You Need to Listen to This PRIDE

PRIDE is all about self-empowerment and self-determination. It’s about not just being comfortable with who you are but showing the world that there is pride to be found in being unapologetically you. And that’s why, this PRIDE, we wanted to shine a light on a small handful of our favorite LGBTQIA+ artists. Ranging from rapturous hyperpop, revelatory bossa nova meditations, romantic rave music, and everywhere in between, these are 19 LGBTQIA+ artists who deserve a spot on your PRIDE playlist and every playlist for that matter.

girl in red

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In her debut single, “i wanna be your girlfriend,” a teenage girl in red unapologetically sings of young queer love over a mesh of lofi production and jangly instrumentation that would come to define much of the bedroom pop genre. It is a standout moment of unrelenting honesty, and a serenely simple three-minute confession that would go on to strike a chord with millions who were afraid of what it meant to be something more than friends. Now, a few years later and following the release of her critically-acclaimed debut album, if i could make it go quiet, Ulven still writes with that same emotional honesty, putting forth every ounce of herself for the world to see.

Meet Me @ The Altar

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“the little lonely black alt girl i was in the 00s is living rn, she never even dared to hope she might see this 💖💖,” reads the top comment on Meet Me @ The Altar’s music video for their single “Garden.” It is a sentiment shared by much of the rising band’s fanbase, who are used to the mainstream alternative scene championing cis white males. Existing in the space between pop-punk and hardcore, Meet Me @ The Altar exists to challenge the notion that queer women of color don’t have a place in punk. And after penning a record deal with Fueled By Ramen, home to the likes of Paramore, Panic! at the Disco, and nearly every pop-punk band that made up your middle school playlist, chances are this is just the beginning for our new favorite punks.

THE BLOSSOM

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For Lily Lizotte, better known as THE BLOSSOM, music exists as the synthesis and subsequent recontextualization of a host of past experiences. From the sound of their dad belting away in his home studio to stumbling upon niche Internet subgenres, THE BLOSSOM transforms all this and more into a sound that is instantly recognizable but impossible to perfectly place. The culmination of this host of influences takes sweeping sonic form on their debut EP, ‘97 BLOSSOM, a perfectly imperfect introduction to one of the most fascinating rising artists of recent memory.

BIMINI

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You may recognize BIMINI as Bimini Bon-Boulash, the runner-up on the second season of RuPaul’s Drag Race UK. And now you should familiarize yourself with Bimini, brit-pop extraordinaire. Releasing their debut single “God Save This Queen” earlier this June, Bimini deftly channels late ‘90s brit-pop and punk to deliver a single that has us absolutely living for the ensuing chaos. Serving up multiple looks throughout its eye-catching music video, “God Save This Queen” is not just a non-binary anthem but a veritable 2021 lookbook.

Hope Tala

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With a sound that falls somewhere between turn-of-the-century R&B and bossa nova, Hope Tala’s music is expectedly a dream given sonic form. Perhaps that’s why much of the UK singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist’s music is able to so deftly weave imagery of love, heartache, and teenage fistfights into tightknit tracks that feel simultaneously transcendental and deeply personal. And with the release of her 2020 EP, Girl Eats the Sun, Hope Tala poses one all-important question, “Why have a life if you’re not going to do something crazy and make a difference in the world?”

chloe moriondo

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For much of chloe moriondo’s avid fanbase, watching her transform from budding ukulele sensation to pop-punk phenom very much meant watching her grow up. Getting her start on YouTube, moriondo's fanbase witnessed her evolve as both an artist and person. Coming out in the aptly titled “a ramble about self identity, growth, and being a lesbian,” to be a fan of the artist often feels like trading secrets with a close personal friend. It is a sentiment that rings all the more true upon delving into her debut album, Blood Bunny. Grappling with coming-of-age at the axis of empathic pop and euphoric pop-punk, Blood Bunny sees moriondo taking yet another impressive step forward.

Godford

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Little is known about Godford beyond what can be garnered from a handful of interviews online and his succinct Spotify bio, and chances are he’s happier that way. The anonymous DJ and producer aims to make non-binary music that exists outside of the confines of genres, overly-simplified classifications, and even himself. What is important are the emotions his music hold and what his listeners take away. Fusing romanticism and rave in his debut album, Godford: Non Binary Place, the anonymous artist does just that. He provides a space that exists simultaneously everywhere and nowhere, like an ephemeral night spent out on the dancefloor with a stranger or close friend.

Joy Oladokun

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Joy Oladokun is at the core of her music. It may at first glance appear to be a painfully obvious statement, but as her sincere songwriting seeps into every corner of your soul, it is a notion that becomes undeniable. In her major label debut, in defense of my own happiness, Oladokun writes with an unabashed authenticity, never turning a blind eye to the world around her. These shared reflections and recollections of life are often heartbreaking and uplifting in the same breath, but in their candidness, we can begin to piece together what it means to be human, imperfections and all.

Allison Ponthier

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Allison Ponthier may only have a handful of singles to her name, but her unmatched potential is clear as day. Raised in the outskirts of Dallas, Texas, Ponthier’s moving songwriting and emphatic vocal prowess speak to her country roots. Pair that country sensibility with some of the most pristine pop songwriting we have heard in quite some time, and you begin to understand just how exciting Ponthier is as a rising artist. With only two singles to date, there’s not much else we can say beyond do yourself a favor and play “Cowboy” on repeat.

Rina Sawayama

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It feels like no hyperbole to call Rina Sawayama an inevitable pop icon. First garnering critical acclaim with singles like “Cherry” and her 2017 debut EP RINA, the Japanese-British singer-songwriter staked her name on her immaculate ability to capture all the glamour and larger-than-life appeal of early ‘00s pop. Building on what was a nostalgic yet forward-thinking vision, Sawayama returned with her 2020 eponymous full-length debut. From nu-metal, club beats, to veritable pop anthems, SAWAYAMA emerged as a genre-defying showcase of an avant-garde pop star.

Arlo Parks

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Listening to Arlo Parks’ music is akin to sipping on a hot cup of chamomile tea as you watch the world slowly pass by your living room window. It is a testament to the British poet and singer-songwriter’s subtle yet beautiful way with words, the way in which each lyric serves as a glance into a tightly-held memory or passing observation. These poetic musings come to life in her debut album, Collapsed In Sunbeams, which layers lyrical revelations over some of the most tender R&B of recent memory. Parks’ is more than a must-listen; she feels like the birth of a new wave.

Claud

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Claud has spent the past few years making a name for themselves in the indie pop world, and the culmination of it all arrives in their debut album, Super Monster. The acclaimed album sees Claud reckoning with coming-of-age and love with an irresistible charm. Pair that with a penchant for grounded, affective songwriting and infectious, dreamlike melodies and you have one of the best debuts of recent memory. In case you somehow need any further convincing that Claud is one to watch, Super Monster marks the debut release from Phoebe Bridgers’ Saddest Factory Records.

UMI

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Equally as inspired by R&B and neo-soul as she is by her generation’s penchant for blurring genre lines, UMI and her music exist as a form of spiritual healing. Half-Black and half-Japanese, her work explores everything from identity to self-introspection, such as on the aptly-titled Introspection. It is a fondness for self-exploration that UMI delves headfirst into on her 2019 EP Love Language, a sublime blend of identity struggles, love, and anime that tackles the issue of always feeling like an other, never Black or Japanese enough.

Joesef

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Sad boy summer. It’s the simplest way to being explaining Joesef’s serene albeit somber sound. Emerging out of Glasgow, the quickly rising star often wears his still bleeding heart on his sleeve, even when the underlying sonics seem to be moving onto greener pastures. It is an exquisite balancing act that comes to life on his 2020 EP, Does It Make You Feel Good?. Blending elements of soft-spoken R&B, jazz, and ethereal pop, Joesef sets himself apart as an artist whose influences and appeal know no bounds.

Serena Isioma

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At the top of the year, we named Serena Isioma one of our top artists to watch in the year to come, and for good reason. The self-proclaimed “nonbinary rock star” experienced a breakout moment with “Sensitive,” a track that is difficult to perfectly encapsulate but think along the lines of fusing modern-day R&B and woozy indie-pop with reckless abandon, and you’ll be about halfway there. It was an impressive standout track that was only buoyed by a pair of EPs, Sensitive and The Leo Sun Sets, in 2020, officially cementing Isioma as an artist like no other.

Khai Dreams

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Khai Dreams’ music is effortlessly easygoing. With its straightforward guitar lines and understated production, every track from the Pacific Northwest singer-songwriter flows out as naturally as breathing. Maybe it’s that laid-back approach that begins to explains Khai Dreams’ universal appeal and millions of monthly listeners, despite releasing most of his music independently. A hallmark of the DIY generation and its massive homebrewed potential, it would be a crying shame if you didn’t let Khai Dream’s serene meditations transport you somewhere far from here.

Frances Forever

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Like much of their Gen Z cohorts, Frances Forever’s exponential rise was not the result of a well-executed marketing plan but by the pure chance of a single song finding a home online. The song in question, “Space Girl,” was originally part of NPR’s Tiny Desk Content before soon blowing up on TikTok, and it’s not hard to see why. Short, sweet, and to the point, “Space Girl” is a saccharine love letter to that bubbly feeling of floating on cloud nine. Now signed to Mom+Pop and with their debut EP, Paranoia Party, due out later this year, this is the perfect time to get familiar with Frances Forever.

Dorian Electra

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Unapologetically playing with gender norms and stereotypes while seeing just how far they can push the limits of pop, Dorian Electra has long maintained a cult following in the world of experimental, highly addictive hyperpop. And it’s not hard to see why. Having collaborated with the likes of Charli XCX, 100 gecs, Village People, Pussy Riot, Rebecca Black, and more, Electra’s music ranges from off-the-rails hyperpop to introspective pop slow burns. All of this and more reaches a fever pitch in their 2020 album My Agenda, a devious showcasing of one of pop’s most explosive figures.

MAY-A

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Maya Cumming, professionally known as MAY-A, is no stranger to the hustle it takes to make it in the music industry. The Australian artist got her start entering numerous singing competitions in her hometown of Byron Bay and started busking on the streets at the tender age of 11. Now, she has a breakout single under her belt in the form of “Apricots,” an anthemic indie-pop ode to queer love. And since that breakout moment, MAY-A has continued to release impressive single after single—the latest being the collaborative “American Dream.”

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bokettochild · 3 years

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Ooh for a fluff piece you should do Hyrule and Warriors and something with claustrophobia (although that has the potential for angst real fast so feel free to ignore me)

Oops, I think my hand slipped.....

(Sorry I didn't get to this for so long, I've been crazy busy and wasn't sure how to approach writing angst until people apparently started crying at my attempt at crack :)

Glass.

Glass walls and a glass floor. A cork ceiling and too little air, too little space to breathe, too little space to function.

Hyrule’s breath hitches again with a silent whimper, his glow fading slowly with every second spent inside of his prison. Outside, he can hear the reverberating shouts of the others, fear and worry in their voices as they call out, likely shouting for him, looking and worrying and screaming in concern.

‘I’m right here!’ He wants to call back, wants to wail to the glass walls that press closer and closer around him. ‘Guys, I’m here, let me out!’ But they won’t hear. They won’t hear his tiny voice, especially not when it’s trapped inside this glass prison.

“Any sign?” The vet’s voice is strained and desperate, violet eyes flickering with fear as they dart from one tired Hero of Courage to another. “He’s got to be here somewhere!”

“Nothing.” There are tears in Sky’s eyes, and even if he’s clearly trying to be strong for the others there’s a heavy slump to his shoulders as if the weight of all of their problems hangs from them. “Twilight and I looked all over, his trail just...ends...”

“He’s got to be somewhere!” Wind protests, voice breaking and fists clenching as the sailor looks over each of them, fear and worry in the kid’s eyes as he stubbornly denies the report Twilight gently gives the rest of them.

It’s not a pretty sight.

Hyrule had only wandered off for a minute while they’d all freshened up in the stream near their camp, but that was all the time needed for him to disappear, tracks ending suddenly and no sign of him, not even a droplet of blood or a broken blade of grass left behind for them to track him with. It was Four who noticed, and while jokes and laughter had sounded as they all teased each other about the Traveler getting lost, the jokes had faded when Twilight had come back, eyes shining with worry as he informed them of Hyrule’s lack of a trail.

All mirth had died then, and eight dripping heroes had abandoned all save their weapons to search for their brother. Their cheeks redden in the cooling night air, Four sneezing occasionally as he pulls his tunic over his head while they speak. None of the others bother, standing about in all states of dress as they consider what to do.

“We’ve searched everything within two miles.” Wild murmurs pensively. “And there’s only one trail, even Hyrule can’t cover his tracks so well that Twilight can’t find him.”

“But I can’t find him, Cub.” Twilight’s voice is almost a whine, eyes pained as the rancher sits with his head in his hands. “There’s no signs! It’s like he just, vanished!”

Time’s heavy hand comes to rest on his protégé's shoulders, rubbing gently over them in an attempt at comfort that Twilight shows no interest in accepting.

They’re worn, Warriors sighs to himself. His brothers have been pushing themselves for weeks and today was meant to be a day of rest and rejuvenation beside the river. But here they sit, worry carving lines across the faces of even their youngest, shoulders drawn up close to ears or slumped in resignation. It’s been hours, Hyrule should be back by now.

Sky’s tired gaze meets his own over the heads of the younger heroes, there’s determination fighting against reassignment inside of sapphire blue, but Sky forces a weak smile for his sake, silent words passing between the two before both nod in finality. “There’s no sign-”

“We know that Sky!” The vet snaps, hands buried in his still dripping hair. “Twilight, you have your things, right?” The vet asks pointedly, breath hitching and coming in short little bursts as he looks up to the rancher.

Twilight nods, dropping one hand to tug at something hidden under his collar “Yeah.”

“Does Hyrule has any items that let him fly? Oh Nayru! I should have asked him!” The vet’s panicking now, and it’s agitating the younger heroes as his feet tap nervously at the ground, hands shaking as they run repeatedly through his bangs and tap against his thighs.

Wind’s worrying at the hem of his tunic and Wild scratches at his scars, and Warriors has no doubt that if Four wasn’t shivering and wrapping himself in his arms that the smithy would also be fidgeting nervously.

Sky sighs heavily, grabbing his sailcloth from the ground and wrapping it around the smithy’s shoulders carefully. “Like I said, there’s no sign so far. But we have to trust in Hyrule’s abilities. The traveler’s a tough egg, he doesn’t break easily and he knows what he’s doing in a forest, especially a dangerous one.” The Skyloftian shoots Legend a pointed glance, cutting off the young veteran before he can start fussing again. “It’s getting dark and we won’t be able to see, and if we’re too loud and keep disturbing the forest, we’ll only alert any monsters that might be around here to our presence. We’ll make camp here for the night and keep looking in the morning, after everyone has a warm meal.”

“He’s out there!” Legend insists.

“And he’s strong. I can’t help Hyrule right now, none of us can, not in this darkness. But I can make sure you all rest and get something to eat.” Sky’s voice gentles as he lays a hand on Legend’s bare shoulder. “We’ll find him, Bun, have a little faith in the traveler.”

The vet looks instants away from protesting, from shouting something harsh that he probably doesn’t mean. He’s worried, they all are, but Legend responds worst of all of them to injury or illness, and his protégé going missing doesn’t seem to be an exception.

It’s Time’s voice that cuts through the tension, face stern as he meets the veteran’s eyes. “Rest. We’re no good to Hyrule if we can’t walk a straight line. Cub,” Wild’s ears prick forwards, attentive and eager for orders. The little soldier shows his training, even though he might not remember it; eager for a task to complete to distract from the tension, needing a job to focus on instead of his own spiraling thoughts. It draws a tiny smile to Warriors’ face as he watches. “Could you mix up something warm for everyone? We’ll eat and head to bed, Sky and I can take first watch, Warriors and Wild will have second,” Always best to put the two war heroes together on second watch, less chance of waking the others with their nightmares. “And Twilight and Four can take second.”

Again, Legend looks like he might protest, but their leader fixes him with a stern look. “Vet, try to sleep, please.”

Little chance of that, he muses, watching as the vet huffs and kicks at the dirt, Legend’s a worrier, even if he would never admit it, and if anyone’s going to be up all night long fussing and fidgeting, it’ll be him. What Warriors wouldn’t give to pull Ravio along just this once so that the merchant can calm their friend, he doesn’t know how he does it, but Ravio and Hyrule both have a magic touch when dealing with the ornery teenager.

“Help me get Four settled.” Sky nudges Legend’s shoulder gently. “But get dressed first.”

Tasks. That’s right, give everyone something to do to take their mind off of worrying and running wild with imaginings that will only fuel anxiety and nightmares.

“Wind,” The sailor turns to him with pinched brows, but the kid calms significantly at the sound of his captain voice. “How about you and Twilight gather some wood for a fire? Time, will you scout the borders with me while the others prep camp?”

Mentor and protégé both nod; taking the orders that come easily to his mind, the rancher pulling on his wolf pelt and melting into the forest with Wind at his heels, and Time grabbing his sword and shield and coming to follow at his side.

“Thanks for stepping up.” The older man hums, gaze strained but warm as he offers a small quirk of the lips. “You and Sky both.”

He claps the other man on the shoulder, thankful in part that Time hasn’t donned his heavy armor, thus allowing him to avoid destroying his knuckles. “That’s my job, Sprout. Besides, you had your hands full with a sad puppy.”

Time shakes his head with a soft chuckle, but Warriors counts it as a win.

If Legend was bad the night Hyrule went missing, he’s terrible when the portal sweeps over them midway through their attempts to find his protégé, and the vet’s full-on panicking once they’ve all stopped feeling woozy and sick. He’s not the only one; Wind is almost crying, the poor kids so overwhelmed, and Wild’s agitated behavior has spiked to a full blown manic as he investigates the land around them.

It’s all the three eldest heroes can do to try and keep the younger ones calm, and while Twilight tags along with Wild to scout the area, Time bundles up a shivering and sneezing Four into his arms with a soft hum, hands dragging through the smithy’s long hair carefully.

“Cold?” He calls over to the two.

Time nods. “Probably.”

They should have taken more care to dry off before starting their search.

While Sky attempts to calm Legend, simultaneously holding Wind close to himself and offering one of his Big Brother Hugs to the sailor, Warriors takes care to check their things over and make sure nothing has been left behind.

Wild’s things are nearly always in his slate. Twilight and Time have their bags on hand, but the younger ones and Sky all have plenty to ensure is still in order, and he makes extra sure to check that the potions and fairies they have are all in order and that the bottle haven’t broken during the tumbling of the switch.

There’s light again.

Hyrule whimpers as it floods over him, tucking himself closer to the base of the bottle as large hands rummage around.

His glass prison tilts and swings, but the traveler can only tumble around within, pained hisses escaping him as he fights nausea that he can only assume is from some kind of switch.

It’s Warriors’ blue gloved hand that has his bottle, and hope flutters softly alongside iridescent wings as Hyrule silently prays that the captain will open it. They’ve been looking for him, right? Maybe Warriors figured out his mistake! Maybe he realized that Hyrule isn’t your average healing fairy and has decided to let him go again!

Oh, please let it be so! He won’t burn the captain’s bug-net after all if the man will just let him out!!!

The bottle settles again, and a blue gloved hand withdraws, leaving Hyrule lying on the floor of his bottle, the glass walls and stuffy air of the bag pressing in around him as another miserable whimper escapes him.

The bag he’s trapped in is flipped closed, and he’s plunged again into darkness.

Someone get a fairy!” Legend shrieks, the vet’s panic over the last few hours heightened as his blood soaked hands press against the wound in Time’s side.

Twilight’s face is pale from where he sits supporting his mentor’s head, blood splattering his face and Time’s own as the older man chokes and wheezes, blood bubbling up from between his lips as Legend and Four both work like mad-men to try and tend their leader’s wounds.

It was a freak attack. No one saw it coming, not with how out of it they all were, and there was no time to stop it when the hinox had come rumbling through the forest with ‘blins scurrying about at its feet.

As per Legend and Warriors’ instructions, the heroes had worked to bring down the smaller enemies first, slashing and skewering while the black blood of their enemies gushed out over their blades and darting forms. The ‘blins are hard to beat, as are all the black blooded monsters, but it's become a struggle they’re accustomed too, and the heroes each dart in and out of the battle with the sort of grace of people that are accustomed to battling together and against dangers of all sort.

There’s a flaw in the system though, as they’re short one member, and while Legend and Hyrule usually fight back-to-back, with Four and Wind close at hand, the traveler is gone, and it throws off his battle partners considerably.

Time was only just in time to prevent Wind and Legend both from being axed, but the wound l=that gushes blood from his side now had been the price.

“Fairy!” Four shouts out again. “Now!”

He blinks awake, the blurriness of his vision fogging his mind too, but not so much that he doesn’t register the request this time. Gloved hands fumble with the buckles of his bag, and he’s sweating and breathing harshly with worry as he rips the straps aside and grabs the first bottle he sees. Red liquid glitters back at him and he huffs a grunt out, handing it off to Wind and digging back into his bag.

Thank Hylia he and Four had gone fairy hunting in the last world they’d been in, he’s only got the one fairy, but it should be enough.

Faint pink glimmers in his jar, no longer bright and flittering, but he has to pray it’ll be enough to save Time. His fingers scrabble for the cork, tears pricking at his eyes and burning as he does his best to force them back.

Help Time.

Calm the others.

Break down and cry later.

The cork pops free, and the fairy bumbles sluggishly towards the mouth of the jar.

“Help!” He wheezes, glancing at where Legend and Four have started preforming CPR as tears stream openly down Twilight’s face, the rancher clutching his mentor’s hand tight enough to break bones as he watches the two replacement healers attempt to preserve the ever-fading breath of the man in his arms.

The fairy's wings flit softly as it launches from the mouth of the jar. Its path is sluggish and crooked, but soft glimmering dust flutters from its wings all the same, sprinkling over the gushing wound and slowing the flow of blood. Four leans back to spit out some blood that’s bubbled up into his mouth while he was pushing air into their leader’s lungs, and a stuttering cough breaks the frenzied silence as Time’s eyes flicker. The fairy circles a second time, color returning to Time’s face as raw and tender flesh takes the place of an open wound. There’s no time for a third pass, however, as the fairy’s wings stutter to a halt, pink glow fading as it drops to the earth.

The others are too busy with Time to notice, Wind practically shoving the red potion down the man’s throat while Legend and Four start wrapping the wound in their leader’s side. Only Warriors has seen the fairy fall, and panic lances through his heart again.

Fairies aren’t supposed to collapse after healing someone; they’re supposed to fly away. But this fairy only weakly attempts to rise again, and while the other fuss over the lesser injuries while Legend scolds Time, the captain turns his attention to the fading pink light that blinks on and off in the tall grass.

The fairy shivers in his hands as he gently scoops it up, but when he raises it to eyes level to look at it properly, he freezes.

Tousled brown hair, drenched in sweat, flops over lidden golden eyes. Sure, there six tiny eyes to look at, but the light in them, though faded, is familiar. Same as the freckles that dust drawn cheeks and the tiny green and brown tunic, the shrunken boots the-

“Hyrule?” His voice is soft and disbelieving, too hushed to be heard by the others as they continue to worry over the old man. But the tiny figure in his hands stirs, ever so slightly, golden eyes blinking open as a weak smile meets his gaze.

“W-” The single sound escaped before the fairy stutters in his hands, lights blinking out for half of a second as Hyrule coughs and wheezes.

“Hang on!” Again, he’s digging in his bag, guilt and utter horror filling him as realization hits.

He put Hyrule in a bottle. A bottle that has sat in his bag for days. A bottle that is closed and sealed and-

The captain’s breath stutters as his fingers find the vial of green potion. Eyes glassy as he lifts it to the fading light in his hands, and while Hyrule sips slowly at the vial that’s raised to his lips, it’s all that the soldier can do to not break down crying right then and there.

He locked Hyrule in a bottle!

Tiny wings flutter in his hold as Hyrule pulls himself up to grasp the vial better, but the captain’s so lost in his head he can only stare, unseeing, as the fairy downs the rest of the vial, despite the thing being bigger than himself. The pink glow that signifies a healing fairy stutters back to a more radiant bloom, wings fluttering lightly as Hyrule shakes out his limbs with a wince.

“Thank you for freeing me.” The traveler’s tiny voice chirps, eyes pained but warm as they all stare up at him, and a single tear escapes from the captain at the words.

He doesn’t really think, just gently plucks the fairy up and settles him in a fold of his scarf before jumping to his feet and striding away into the forest. Sky’s voice calls after him, but he ignores it, instead heading for the nearest bunch of trees.

He’s not sure why he brought Hyrule along, but he also knows he couldn’t just leave the fairy hero back in the camp with no one to watch over him, so even as he fights back the tears that well in his eyes and the pain that blossoms in his heart and the sensation of too small- too tight- trapped- glass- trapped-

“Warriors!” The sharp peal of Hyrule’s voice cuts him out of his thoughts. He doesn’t know when he’d fallen to his knees or when his hands had risen up to clutch his hair. It hurts how hard he’s pulling, and it scares him that he hadn’t even felt it. “Hey!” The voice continues, Hyrule fluttering, still weak, only inches from his face, concern glimmering in glimmering golden eyes. “Hey listen! Wars? Can you hear me? Wars?”

“S-sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Hyrule dismissed the apology, and it draws a wet laugh from the captain as he watches the still stuttering wings beating with a speed to rival a hummingbird, Hyrule’s drawn frame looking even paler and thinner right now than it had when they’d first met him.

“I should be asking you that, kid.” He chokes out. He’d locked this kid in a bottle for days! He’d never known it and if Time hadn’t been dying, who knows how long it would have taken him to open it!

Hyrule’s smile is drawn as his wings stutter to a stop again, the traveler falling into Warriors’ lap as the captain starts forwards as if to catch him. Muttered words sound through the air and then Hyrule, properly sized but still pale and thin and painfully still is nestled against his chest. “I’m exhausted and hungry, but I’m out.” The kid breathes, eyes fluttering as a soft breeze ruffles his sweat soaked hair. “I’m out and that’s all I could ask for right now.”

He doesn’t even think as he wraps his arms around the kid, burying his nose in the damp curls and never minding the fact that they are rank with sweat and fear. It’s Hyrule, and he’s safe, and while Legend is probably going to murder him for trapping the poor kid for three whole days, at least he knows that the little one is alright.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice is muffled as he murmurs into the curls. “I know how bottles suck, if I’d’ve known it was you I would have never-” His voice hitches with a sob as he tugs the kid closer, weeping as Hyrule’s gentle hands weakly pat the only thing they can reach within his tight hug, his chest.

“You didn’t know.” Hyrule rasps softly. “But I’m burning your bug-net when I have the energy.”

“Please.” Comes the strangled sob. “Oh goddesses, Rule, I’m so sorry!” The gentle hands move up to wipe away his tears but it only brings them flooding down harder. “Goddesses, I locked you in a bottle! You could’ve been in there forever and I wouldn’t have known! I wouldn’t have checked! I would’ve-”

Left him there. His mind supplies. He would have left Hyrule in a glass bottle where no one could find him, where his shrieks and screams and pleas for help wouldn’t have made a difference to anything or anyone, not when the giant beings that trapped him were unaware or uncaring of his fate, not when he was there to serve a purpose, not when he was there to be used like an item and supply power to those who don’t have enough themselves.

A talisman. I trophy. A tool so that they could do what they needed.

He’s been there. He’s been in that bottle, used like a tool, supplying power to beings so much larger than himself. He’s been in that bottle and left to sit while his friends call his name, while Mask and Tune and Ravio and Impa and Marin and Midna and- and-

“Hush.” Hyrule coos softly, voice hoarse, no doubt from many a scream and wail in hopes of catching their attention, of gaining freedom. “Sush, you’re okay. I’m okay, we’re both okay and Time will be okay.” Rough pads scrape across his cheeks and gently rub his ears. “I got you Wars, I got you.”

And Hyrule does have him, holds him despite being the one in Warriors’ lap, until the others come wandering over and the traveler is scooped from his arms by Sky, who hugs the youngster with tears pouring down his face and voice caught in his throat.

His tears go unnoticed as they all head back, and the instant they reach camp Legend is springing forwards with worry glittering in his eyes as he takes the traveler’s face in his hands, disbelief and shock and hurt and hope and a thousand other emotions swarming in golden violet as Legend gently touches the traveler’s brow with his own, crystal tears leaking out slowly as a tiny smile pulls at the vet’s face.

It only lasts a minute, but then Sky and Legend are fussing over Hyrule, checking him over and clucking their tongues like a couple of mother cuckoos as Wild springs towards the fire, eyes flashing indignantly at the sight of Hyrule’s thin frame, something he’d worked so hard to mend.

“Oh, ‘Rulie, thank Din you’re back!” Legend sighs, cupping the kids face gently in his hands as golden eyes flicker up at the vet with a smile. “Wherever where you? We nearly lost our minds with worry!”

“He was trapped by a monster.” The words roll off of his tongue bitterly as Hyrule frowns up at him, but Legend and Sky are too busy fussing to notice and Hyrule isn’t given a chance to correct anything as they check again for any injuries.

Warriors draws away, leaving Hyrule wrapped in his scarf as he sits on the edge of camp, head aching from tears shed and mind blank in the wake of them. He’s too tired to join in the fuss and celebration as Time sits up again with a groan and Hyrule is spoon-fed soup by a murmuring Sky. He’s tired. He’s cold, and he feels utterly empty.

At least he’s not in a bottle.

The thought sends shivers through him as he curls in on himself, an outlier to the bustle of the camp, free now to descend into the madness of his broken mind.

#warriors angst #idiot writes angst #sapphic loser16 my beloved #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu time #lu twilight #lu sky #lu wind #lu four #lu wild #angst #hurt no comfort #claustrophobia #claustrophobia tw

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pascalslittlebrat · 3 years

Text

Favors

Rating: T

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count: 6316

Warnings: Mentions of food, cigarettes, alcohol, some language, insecurity, tiny angst, this is honestly just soft

Summary: As Noonan’s secretary you have to deal with a lot of things, all part of the job description. Dealing with Javier Peña and his constant need of favors? Not part of the job description but something you can’t resist. When he asks you to dinner as a thank you, you can’t help but question it, not when you have feelings for him and you know this is just part of him owing you. But sometimes our own insecurities block us from truly seeing everything going on around us.

A/N: Honestly, I’m shit at summaries but I saw this gif set and it made me think of this along with @sleep-tight1 fueling my want for this. Big thanks to @mothandpidgeon for dealing with my musings on this and to @danniburgh for helping me plot things out and for making sure I translated right. I’m honestly scared because this is my first character fic but here it is. Kind of want to do a part two cause I love them xoxo

Taglist Masterlist

You were looking through paperwork that needed to get to the ambassador when the familiar scent of cedar, cigarettes, and a hint of mint hit your nose, causing your body to immediately perk up and you didn’t have to look up to know who was now leaning over your desk. You sighed setting your hands down in front of you clasping them together. You looked up to meet the familiar intense brown eyes of Javier Peña.

“What do you need Javier?” you deadpanned, knowing the mustached man only visited you when he was asking you for a favor, other than that at most you might get a wave when he’s getting called into Noonan’s office to get chewed out.

He placed his hands on your desk, feign hurt coming across his face, “Y/N, can’t I just come by and see you?”

You roll your eyes at him, you wanted to call him out on his lie, he only spoke to you during times like this. “That’s bullshit and we both know it. The ambassador doesn’t have you scheduled to chew your ass out today, so what is it? I don’t have time for this today, I have stacks of paperwork to get to.” You gestured to the stack next to your computer.

You tried to ignore how good his stupid curly hair looked today, how much his eyes looked like melted chocolate in the lighting, or how distracted you were getting see the first two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, exposing that little bit of tan skin that made you want to unbutton and explore the rest, you wouldn’t let his charm get to you today. God will this man learn how to button up his shirts? “I just need your signature on something, hermosa, that’s all,” he says smoothly, his Texan accent slightly coming out.

Exactly as you expected, he just needed something. You couldn’t help the twinge of disappointment that coursed through you, after years of crushing on Javier, you couldn’t help but still hope for the day he would actually come to you just to talk or maybe ask you out. You knew it was ridiculous and your little crush shouldn’t bother you so much, for fucks sake you were an adult, but you couldn’t help it. You had fallen for his charm the moment he first came to you and you hadn’t been able to deny him since then, even when you knew the stories that surrounded him.

Today hadn’t been a good day for you though, so you frown at him, watching his hand come down to brush against your desk. His eyes were on yours and you wanted to punch him for that beautiful face, that prominent nose and his jawline that had your fingertips itching to run along them. “Let me guess: it’s a very sad and complicated situation involving you and a beautiful local,” you say bitterly.

Javier reaches down taking one of your hands in his, rubbing his thumb over your fingers, you ignored the tingle that went down your spine at the touch of his warm calloused hand over yours, “You got your nails done. It’s your color, y/n.” He gives you a soft smile and your frown deepens. He’s really trying to turn the charm on today, and it was taking everything in you to not stare at his arms, the way he had his arm bent to hold your hand was showing off the veins that led up his biceps in a way that was making your body feel warm. Yet another urge to touch him came to mind that you had to shut down to keep focused

You slip your hand out of his, a part of you missing his soft touch and hated that he was only complimenting you to get whatever it was that he wanted. You narrow your eyes at him when you see the visible paperwork in his other hand that he had been keeping hidden behind his back. “What do you want, Javier?” you ask exasperated, it was clear he wasn’t going to take no for an answer and you already knew if he continued acting like this you’d be like putty in his hands soon enough anyways .

His stare was direct yet gentle as he brought the papers in front of you pointing down at the line he needed you sign, “It’s simple, I just need your signature right there.”

You took the paper from him, both his hands came down to grasp the edge of the desk and you saw him look over at the ambassador’s office, he looked nervous all of a sudden and you realized why the moment you read over the paper. You looked up at him eyes wide, looking around to make sure no one was around either. You knew that you were safe from the Noonan, she was in a briefing meeting but you definitely didn’t want anyone to hear this conversation. “You want me to create an embassy ID?” you ask him shocked. Of all the things he had asked you to do before, this was definitely one of his biggest favors, one that could get you in a great deal of trouble if Noonan found out. She was already growing weary of the way you would always vouch for him. “Who is this woman?”

“What I want you to do is sidestep a little bullshit bureaucracy and help someone stay alive,” he answers you, his voice low and deep, his eyes held that serious intenseness to them again.

You give him a look, one that reminds him how often you had helped him sidestep some bullshit. There was something in his eyes, worry maybe? You gulped, you couldn’t help but feel envious of her, that she had someone like Javi sticking his neck out for her. “You really think I’d be asking you if it wasn’t important?” he asks.

You can’t help the way your hearts drops a little at his words, the reminder of him only coming to you because only you could help him commit this plan of his through. “She’s my informant. And she can be the key to bringing down the whole Medellin cartel, so come on, y/n, whose side are you on?” he continues the irritation clear in his tone.

Your jaw clenches and you look up at him then at the papers. He had you there, he knew the answer to that. You knew the hard work he put in day in and day out to take down Escobar, you knew the late nights he worked, the early mornings, the close calls. He knew that even though you were just Noonan’s secretary that you still wanted to be able to help in whatever way you could. That’s why you stuck your neck out for him and his informants no matter the fight you might put up first, because they risked their lives, they had helped to get information in, and the least they did deserve, for their time and sacrifice, was safety or to the ability to live a better life.

You can see how tense he is, his jaw is tightened, he’s biting his bottom lip, you can tell there’s that part of him ready to argue with you further if that’s what he needs to do. Whoever this woman was, she was clearly in great danger if she stayed here with whatever information she had that he needed an Embassy ID to get her out. You knew this had to be the informant you had heard Noonan complaining he was keeping hidden, that would tie Escobar to the Palace of Justice siege.

You look up at him once more and he raises an eyebrow at you clearly annoyed and waiting to see what your answer was. You sigh shaking your head to yourself, Noonan would have your ass if she knew you had any part of this, but if this could help stop the violence in Colombia then you didn’t care. You grab your pen and sign your name on the printed line, you watch as Javier visibly relaxes as you hand him the papers. The hardness in his face is gone, the relief clear in it.

“Thank you, y/n, you’re the best, really. I don’t know what I would do without your help,” he tells you softly, the appreciation clear in his eyes and he takes your hand in his again giving it a gentle squeeze. Gone was the hard man from moments ago.

Your heart melts at his words and touch, all you can do is nod in response your throat suddenly feeling dry. “I owe you big time for this y/n, you don’t know just how important this was. I’ll take you out to dinner one day, my thanks for this,” Javier promises as he brings your hand up giving the top of it a kiss before bringing it down and standing up fiddling with the papers in his hands.

You stare at him dumbfounded, your cheeks were burning, and you hoped he couldn’t see the way you were reacting over the simple gesture. “I-It’s fine, just know if I go down, you’re going down with me,” you mumble out, trying to keep the feign unbotheredness up that you tried to hold around him.

Javier gives you that gorgeous side smile of his, “Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything else.” He winks at you before he turns and walks away. You slide down into your chair suppressing a groan running your fingers over your forehead. You hoped to God this would work out for him or you’d both be screwed. You look at his retreating figure, admiring the tightness of his blue jeans, how nice his ass looked, you told yourself you deserved the peak at his ass after the stress he just caused you. You run a hand through your hair and let out a deep breath before reaching for one of the files in your stack, grateful for the stacks of paper now and the distraction it’d help give you.

You come out of Noonan’s office frustrated, with Gacha’s death, Escobar bombing Colombia, and Gaviria not accepting the help the US wanted to give, Noonan was more snippy than usual and the amount of reports going through you to get to her or to send back home felt never ending. Noonan usually got along well with you, other than when you were standing up for Javi and Steve, but today she was more stressed than usual, so you forgetting to tell her husband called had caused her to flip out more than it usually would and you just had to take it because you knew there was a lot of pressure on her.

You see Javi sitting at the edge of your desk one arm crossed while the other is clearly roaming through your things. “What do you think you’re doing?” you ask annoyed, watching as he sets down the picture of you and your parents when you graduated university.

“That’s a good picture of you, your smile is beautiful, genuine, I can see how happy you were,” Javi notes as he looks over at you with a lopsided grin. You want to bask in the compliment but the negative side of you reminded you that he only complimented you when he wanted something.

You frown at him and cross your arms over your chest raising an eyebrow at him. “Turning up the charm real quick, what do you want Javier? As of 5 minutes ago, my shift is over.” You walk around him to sit at your desk and gather your things, closing off the files you had laid out.

“Why do you think I want something, maybe I’m just always this charming?” he asks you watching as you organize everything back in place, he can’t help but admire how you keep your work space as organized as his, he could tell you had your own system going.

“Look, whatever you want, I’m not doing it. I’m still holding my breath from your last favor, don’t think I didn’t hear the CIA telling Noonan about how guilty they thought you and Murphy are about hiding a communist,” you mutter and look up to see him watching you.

He frowns a bit at your words feeling bad that he constantly dragged you into his issues with his favors and you looked down, only to feel his thumb gently tilt your head up to meet his eyes, “You don’t need to worry about that, it’s taken care of. That’s why I’m here, I owe you dinner.”

You gulp but feel your insecurity start gnawing at you, repeating his words to you, reminding you that he is only here because he feels he owes you. You try to shove the irritation down but can’t. “What? No one else was available?” you scoff as you open your drawer where you kept your purse. “So I was the last resort because you feel like you owe me?”

“You weren’t a last resort, I’ve been meaning to ask you all week, things have just been busy with all this shit going on,” Javier retorts frowning as he watches you pull your purse out, he was trying to read you and you were making it hard for him. He was used to you giving him a hard time, liked that about you a lot actually, but you seemed more withdrawn today and he was worried maybe he had done something wrong. You set your hand down on the desk and he immediately put his over yours, “I don’t feel like I owe you, I know that I do, you’ve helped so many of my informants stay alive and have a chance to live and be in safety.”

You take a deep breath, knowing you needed to calm down. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He couldn’t help that he didn’t feel the same way about you as you did for him. He was trying to do a good thing and you were trying to fight him on it. You look up at him and give him a small smile and give his hand a gentle squeeze, “Look Javier, you don’t owe me anything. Helping the fight against Escobar even if it’s just signing papers or bothering Noonan for you, is enough for me especially, when your informants risked so much to help in this war against him.” You let go of his hand and stand up smoothing out the front of you dress, “Now if you’ll excuse me.” You give him a small nod moving to walk away but he sticks his arm out blocking you.

He had noticed the way your smile didn’t meet your eyes just like he had noticed the frustration on your face when you had walked out of Noonan’s office earlier, he wondered if stress was the answer to how you were acting. “Y/N, please come to dinner with me,” Javier pleads softly when you meet his eyes.

You wanted to resist, you wanted to tell him no, but the way those warm brown eyes were staring at you, pleading, worried almost, had you nodding your head in agreement before you brain could even think to decline, I’m too soft for this man, “Okay…I’ll go with you.”

Your heart races as you see his eyes light up, he smiles at you and he motions for you to lead the way. You’d never seen him act like this when he wasn’t asking for something so you couldn’t help the small smile that came across your face. You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks when you feel his hand on the small of your back, guiding you with him as he falls into step next to you as you walk out of the office.

You both make your way out of the embassy and you try to ignore the way the few people still around were eyeing you and Javier. One of the guys that works for the CIA made a snide comment about if Javier had paid for you for the night and you told him off before Javier could. You made sure to remind him how Javier had gotten more intel than the CIA had been able to and that he needed to remember who had connect the cartel was working with communists, and that he was probably just jealous because no one would pay for him for the night. You had left him and Javier both speechless, and you had to drag said shocked Javier outside.

Javier looks at you, taking in what you said, a look of appreciation coming across his face. You were usually so timid and quiet when it came to others and seeing the passion burning in your eyes, watching you stand up for him and others, calling out bullshit, he couldn’t help but admire it. He loved being able to get a glimpse of you. “Here I thought you only saved that little fire in you to give me shit,” Javier chuckles and brings your hand up to press a kiss on it, “You are an incredible and surprising woman, do you know that?”

You flush under his gaze but roll your eyes pulling your hand away and shoving his shoulder playfully, “It’s called being a decent human being, Javier.”

He chuckles leading you to his Jeep and opening the passenger door for you, “I assume you don’t mind riding with me?”

You smile at him and the gesture, you honestly couldn’t remember the last time any guy had opened the car door for you. “No, my car is in the shop so I was going to get a taxi or walk.”

A frown crosses Javier’s face, he didn’t like the thought of you walking alone, not when he knew how men could get at night, what could happen to you, “Don’t ever walk home alone, please, not at night, if you ever need a ride you can call me. It’s not safe on the streets.”

“Javier, it’s okay. I got some self-defense training and my apartment is really just a block away,” you tell him but can’t help but feel like a child being scolded. You almost winced when you saw his glare, you knew training wouldn’t help much but you were hoping it would somewhat put him at ease, which apparently it had not.

He closed the passenger door and walks over the driver’s side, you could see the way he was trying to collect himself, probably trying not lecture you about how unsafe it is at night. “It’s not safe on the streets for gringos and worse if you work for the embassy, you might as well have a target on your back,” he lets out as calmly as possible.

You sigh reaching over and putting your hand over his that was grasping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. You feel him ease his hold on it at your touch, his look softening a bit, you didn’t think he would care but the way it obviously bothered him, made you want to reach over and hug him. “Javi, okay okay, I promise, the steering wheel didn’t do anything to you,” you tell him hoping to get him to crack a smile.

He just looks you over eyes still hard, before nodding. “You better or I swear I’ll personally take you to and from the embassy every day,” Javier threatens, the look on his face telling you he wasn’t lying. He knew his schedule was shit and sometimes he leaves without even planning but he would figure it out if it meant keeping you safe. The wheels in his mind were already turning. He was already thinking of how he’d ask you if you drove before he’d have to go out on a late night mission or just leaving you a spare key to the Jeep for those times he had to run out quickly and could just call you to let you know you could use it if needed. You didn’t know it but he cared for you and the thoughts of you walking alone, the terrible things he had seen happen to his informants, he didn’t want that for anyone, let alone you.

Your heart starts racing as you play his words over again. You knew his threat was serious, you just gulp nodding, not trusting your words. In your whole time in Colombia, no one had shown the slightest concern for you. You were just an assistant after all, what could happen to you? But seeing Javier be concerned, worried, it made you feel like you were somebody, like maybe you did matter to someone other than your family back home. “Thanks Javi,” you whisper out and he nods at you, finally relaxing knowing that you would listen. He keeps your hand in his, placing it on the console as he drives to the restaurant.

You both sit in silence, one part of you was overthinking this whole situation, the other part of you practically running laps around your brain excited. You didn’t know his reasoning for holding your hand, did he need one? But you weren’t going to sit there and complain so you opt to just enjoy the feeling of his hand in yours, warm, rough yet soft.

When he parks on the side of the street outside of the restaurant, he comes around and opens the door for you, holding out his hand to help you down. He doesn’t even give you a chance to miss his hand holding yours because it’s immediately on your back, guiding you as you walk into the restaurant. His manners make your heart soar and you can’t help the thought that you could get used to this with him, the light touches, even if he meant it in just a friendly way.

The older woman at the entrance greets Javier excitedly, kissing his cheek. You can’t help but smile as you watch their interaction. She asks him where he’s been and tells him he looks skinnier, that she can tell he hasn’t been eating. She looks over at you before looking back at him and tell him something you didn’t quite catch but you could have sworn under the low lighting, that he seemed to be blushing as he answered her back.

She leads you both to a booth and you slide into the red leather seat as Javier gets in across from you. You smile as you look around, the restaurant had a good ambience to it. It wasn’t a hole in a wall or fancy, but it was comfortable and laid back, the inside felt warm and inviting with the dim lighting, each table had a lamp on the plaid table cloths and it just made each table feel personal and like it was its own little space. “You come here often don’t you?” you ask him and he can’t help but nod and give you a sheepish smile as the woman comes back with a glass of whiskey for him.

“Que te gustaría tomar señorita?” What would you like to drink miss, she asks you with a warm smile but turns to Javier for an answer.

Javier opens his mouth to translate for you, but you stop him, “Un vaso de agua, por favor.” A a glass of water, please.

“No quieres un poquito de alcohol para aguantar a este hombre?” You don’t want a little alcohol to be able to stand this man, she teases and you can’t help but laugh.

“A lo mejor después,” Maybe later, she nods smiling at you before telling Javier he better not bother you too much causing him to tell her he’s innocent. You look at him seeing him looking at you quizzically, “What?”

“I didn’t realize you could speak or understand Spanish,” he mumbles unable to keep the shock off his face. You definitely were a surprising woman to him and it was making him want to learn more about you.

You shrug unable to help the chuckle that escaped, “Close your mouth Javi, you’ll catch flies. I’ve been here three years and I studied it in high school and college, even more once I realized I’d be living here. There’s some things I can’t always catch or piece together, but I can usually get by.”

Javier takes a sip of his whiskey. “Remind me to never talk shit about you in Spanish when you’re around,” he mutters but you could see his eyes crinkling in amusement.

“You’re right, I might just talk shit back,” you tease and he laughs.

“You’ll give me hell in Spanish and English, figures,” he chuckles as he pulls a cigarette out, “I don’t know if she’ll bring out a menu but they have great arepas, Chuleta Valluna, arroz con pollo, pretty much everything is good.”

You watch the way his lips wrap around the cigarette as he lights it, looking away so you don’t seem like you’re staring or thinking about his soft lips. “I trust your judgement to order whatever you think is best, I’m not picky at all,” you tell him shrugging.

The woman comes back placing your water on the table. Javier tells her you both would like an order of his usual and she smiles saying she expected as much and would make sure to tell Don Ricardo to make it perfect for his girlfriend. The blush that came across Javier’s face had to have matched yours, he had opened his mouth to correct her but she waved him off walking away.

“I like her,” you say unable to keep from laughing at the interaction, “She’s not afraid to give you shit either.”

Javier couldn’t help but smile, your eyes seemed to be shining again, that empty look gone and he was glad he was able to get you to come out to dinner with him. “Doña Maria, definitely is something, one of the reasons I can’t stop coming here. She cuts through my bullshit,” he chuckles as he takes a drag of his cigarette and you smile back, you could see the admiration he held for the older lady.

You both fall into easy conversation from talking about how Doña Maria constantly gives him shit when he comes, how it reminds him of his Abuela Rosa to your own your grandmother and where you get your own strong attitude from. You watch him as he speaks about growing up in Laredo, listening intently. When the food comes you, your mouth waters, and your first bite is everything you could hope for in a meal but not even that can stop the two of you talking in between bites.

You laughed when you needed to, teasing him every now and again, like when he told you about how he bit a puppy’s tail when he was younger just because it had bit him in the butt when he was bent over at his grandpa’s ranch in Mexico. “You’re still a bully I see,” you had joked and he had thrown a piece of rice at you causing Doña Maria to chastise him as she brought him another glass of whiskey. You had laughed so hard your stomach hurt when he apologized to her looking more like a small boy than a grown man which had caused him to glare at you.

Javier found himself becoming more and more at ease talking to you, he couldn’t remember the last person he had really spoken to like this other than Murphy but even those conversations didn’t feel as personal and deep like this. He found himself wanting to make you laugh more, he loved seeing your eyes crinkle, the way your smile seemed to light up the little table more than the lamp next to you. He loved seeing the little reactions you had as he told you things, the way your eyebrows would furrow a bit when you were really hooked onto what he was saying, the little twitch of your mouth when he would say something dumb that made you want to laugh, the way your hand twitched wanting to reach out for him when he told you about Lorraine but he could see you were afraid to interrupt him.

He was opening himself up to you and you couldn’t help the way your heart swelled as you got to learn more about Javier Peña and who he really was other than the asshole DEA agent everyone saw him as. It made you easily open up to him, he made you feel comfortable and relaxed. You felt you could trust him, that he would listen, and it seemed like he actually cared as you rambled off about growing up being the quiet kid that loved to read books and lose herself in fairytales. You expected him to laugh at you but he just grinned saying he could just imagine you, young and adorable with your nose stuck in a book, preparing the big words for when you would become sassy woman you are today.

“So what made Cinderella decide to come to Colombia? To become an assistant to an ambassador?” Javier teases, it had been a question he had been wondering since you first smiled at him with those big doe eyes when you started working for Noonan.

You couldn’t help but roll you eyes, shaking your head as you laughed, “Cinderella? I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.” You sigh and Javier watches as you grimace, he gets ready to tell you that you don’t have to explain but when you look at him as if reading his mind, you let him know it’s okay, “I was seeing someone at the time, we had been together three years, I loved him, thought we would get married. I had gotten a degree in biology, wanted to work in a lab testing the purity of different chemicals that were being manufactures, he hated that, told me how would that affect me if we were to have kids. One of my friend’s mom’s was a senator in our state, she was looking for a secretary and offered me the job because she knew I was responsible and very organized. I took it to please him and he was thrilled that I had this office job. It kept me out of the lab and because it kept me busy most days, he could bring whoever he wanted to our bed,” you add bitterly remembering when you walked into to Jason asleep with another woman after one of the galas you had to attend, one that he told you he was too busy working to go with you.

Javier reached out taking your hand, he could see the far away look in your eyes, the frown that had formed, he knew you were feeling the way he felt the first few years after leaving Lorraine when he would think about her. “I left him that night, didn’t yell at him even though I wanted to, just grabbed my things and told him to have a good life. I went back to my parents but they adored him and he kept showing up with flowers or gifts trying to apologize to me. Around that time, Noonan had came to visit my boss, they were old friends from university. My friend’s mom was about to finish up her time as a senator, Noonan was looking for an assistant and she was recommending me to her. Me and Noonan hit it off and I was honestly just looking for an escape,” you admitted giving him a small smile as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, “I was tired of Jason, tired of my parents wanting me to get back with him, they’re not bad people and now they understand, they just thought at the time that he was what was best for me. I wanted to see something else too, I had always wanted to travel and maybe Colombia isn’t everyone’s most wanted destination, but I knew this job was a great opportunity. So here I am.” You gesture to the restaurant and shrug a real smile coming back to your face.

Javier nods rubbing his thumb over your skin gently, “Well I’m glad you’re here.” And he meant it, he was glad he had met you and if anything he was kicking himself for not taking you out to dinner before but he couldn’t forget the reason he had tried to keep his interactions with you as professional as possible. He knew after tonight though, that he couldn’t stay away from you, Noonan be damned. He liked your company, liked seeing you smile, seeing you roll your eyes at him, seeing you laugh, and just being yourself and telling him things. “I’m glad we came to dinner tonight,” he admits meeting your eyes.

He sees something flash in your eyes and you look away from him. “Don’t act like we would have if you didn’t owe me the favor from helping you,” you mumble out.

Javier furrows his eyebrows as he watches you, it clicked now what he’s been seeing, insecurity. It made him want to take you in his arms and kiss you until you forgot every negative thought that was going through your pretty little head. “No baby, I really enjoyed myself, let me show you yeah?” he asks you softly, as he gives your hand another squeeze so you could look at him.

You shake your head, letting out a humorless laugh, “Javier, you don’t have to pretend. I get it, I help you, you feel you owe me. You don’t have to act like you have any interest in me. I know I’m not like the women you’re usually with, I’m not pretty or confident. You probably bring them all here.” You hate how bitter you sound, the night had been wonderful, but you couldn’t pretend this meant anything more to him.

Javier frowns at you, hating that you saw you thought so low of yourself, “I’ve never brought any woman here, this is usually where I come alone or where I meet Carrillo on our off nights, when we don’t want to worry about the bullshit at work. Why do you think Doña Maria was so excited? This was more than just because I felt like I owe you, I wanted to take you out.”

A look of shock crosses your face, “B-but you only come to me when you need a favor…you barely wave or glance at me any other time…” You feel stupid admitting this out loud and you get up taking your hand out of his, “I’m sorry, this was nice but I think I should leave, it’s just been a day. Thank you Javi.” You nod at him before walking away giving Doña Maria a small smile, thanking her for the food before you walk out of the restaurant.

Javier immediately gets up. He places money on the table telling Doña Maria he promise he’s going to fix this before she can lecture him from the disapproving look on her face. He walks out and catches up to you, grabbing your hand before you can walk away from him further. He couldn’t let you leave, not thinking that he only cared about you for favors, you needed the truth. He pulls you close to him, one hand resting on your hip as the other tilted your chin up to look at him. “Y/N, Noonan told me to stay away from you, when you first showed up, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I asked Noonan questions about you and she immediately told me I better leave you alone or she’d have my balls. She told me you were too good for me and she didn’t want you dragged into the danger that comes with being with me. And I knew she was right, the little conversations we would have, you were so pure, kind, and you weren’t afraid to give shit or be sassy, and I hated how selfish I was always asking you for favors,” he admits, his eyes pleading with you to believe him. “I know I brought my share of people to you, but I swear to you even though I grew to care for some of them, hell I can’t pretend I didn’t care about Elisa a few weeks ago, but nothing compared to how I felt when I saw you or how you’ve made me feel tonight and it fucking scares me if I’m honest.”

You look at him with unshed tears in your eyes, trying to process what he was saying, you couldn’t believe it. Did you spend too much time worrying about the little interactions that you never noticed him admiring you from afar? Stolen glances when you tried so hard to ignore him? “Javier…” you whisper out, trying to find your words. He looks at you, then at your lips and you close your eyes as you feel him leaning down.

His soft lips press against yours and you felt like your heart was going to fall out of your chest, none of your daydreams had prepared you for this. Not this moment of his lips warm and soft against yours, the way his mustache tickled a bit, the way he was holding onto you like he didn’t want to let you go. You pull away, blinking your eyes, expecting you to wake up in bed, for this to all be a dream. Javier smiles at you, how flustered you look, “Baby, will you let me show how much?”

Your words get caught in your throat and you can do nothing but smile and nod as he embraces you and presses his lips to yours again.

taglist for those who might be interested: @221bshrlocked @danniburgh @metalarmsandmanbuns @mothandpidgeon @queen-since-97 @emofairyprincessofarkansas @mouthymandalorian

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x Reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x y/n #Javier Peña fanfic #Javier Peña fanfiction #one shot #narcos #narcos fic #my writing

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zulivaris · 3 years

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Art Block tips that helped me

I’ve recently experienced art block after 3 or so months of overcoming my last one. Thankfully this block only lasted a few days thanks to some things I’ve observed and noted down from the previous time. So I’m sharing these few tips in hopes that it might help someone get unstuck :D!

First and foremost if you’re tired, sad or anxious don’t be surprised that you can’t make art, go and take care of yourself by treating yourself with kindness and patience, the sketchbooks and canvases will wait for you :)

The tips are under here:

Separate art studies from the creative time: When you do art studies you’re there to focus on specific things, learn and understand how things work so you can apply them later in your art. Studies take a lot of energy and focus and are the opposite of the creative "flow” of making your own pieces. If you combine the two the results are either unfocused studies or stiff drawings. When you sit down at your desk ask yourself “Do I want to learn something new or do I want to create something of my own?”

When you have an idea don’t be afraid of being messy: Let’s say you want to make a picture of several cats kolo dancing in the moonlight. How do you go about doing this? Well since you came up with the idea you already have a vague image in your mind, sketch it out with simple shapes, stick figures, circle and spheres etc Don’t worry about cat anatomy, or the dancer’s moves, sketch out the essence of it. This method removes the need to be perfect or accurate.

Ok after the messy sketch then what? Well now that you have sketched out the essence of your idea (and hopefully had fun doing so) now you go on to look for references! You put the creative process on pause and you can do a few brief studies if you need to: anatomy, color schemes, values, poses. Pick out a few of your favorites but don't obsess over them, they are a guide, a tool.

You know much more than you think. You’ve probably been drawing for a few years now. You’ve probably done some studies and drawn more than one type of subject. Then you have already internalized some of that information. I used to be obsessed with capturing the minute detail of the subject, and not be able to draw ANYTHING without reference. Instead of a useful tool, references became another obstacle to my creativity. That’s perfectionism my friend, and that’s no good. Here is an exercise a good friend of mine offered: Draw a few characters, animals and objects from imagination. Make sure that the subjects have no personal value to you (no ocs for example) so that if you make a mistake you won’t feel bad about it. Make the process relaxed and comfortable, pour a nice cup of joe, listen to your favorite music ... You will notice that you do indeed know how to draw some things without reference, and it’ll help with your confidence.

The more you do studies the more you understand This seems evident but the more you understand your subject the freer you can be and the easier it’ll be to draw it from imagination in the future. If you really struggle with something to the point of frustration (as in you can’t get it right even with reference) It means you have to study it. Have a study list, for example: hands, perspective, color theory etc. And one of those days you want to study pick something from the list, and look for videos on youtube or useful sites like line of action etc. Only study one thing at the time. You can go from studying hands to studying arms since they’re more immediately connected, but you can’t study hands and then jump to learning perspective right after. Trust me you can learn perfectly fine with the resources online, and I’m sure you’re clever enough to do it :D

Mistakes don’t mean you “suck” I’ve noticed that the two most common causes for art block are perfectionism and lack of self-confidence. The two can often go in tandem which is worse :’D But let me remind you of something, you can fix your piece along the whole process. Use erasers, lasso tools, liquify , select, paint it all over etc If something looks off to you then you also know deep inside how to fix it. Useful ways to see what clunks: flip canvas horizontally (helps with placement, proportions), turn the image to grayscale (helps to check values and where your eye tends to look), look at your image in thumbnail size and ask yourself if it’s clear, see the pose’s silhouette and ask yourself if you can tell what the character is doing etc. Don’t fret, everything can always be fixed :)

Perfectionism, sometimes it stops you before you begin Perfectionism causes you to overwork a piece, it makes you draw less, it makes art stressful, it brings insecurity. Let’s remove it with a simple exercise. It can be combined with the “draw things from imagination” once you’ve drawn something you like: dont do line art, don’t shade it, keep it as simple and crude as possible and then...post it. Yes, post it. You’re not at your best? You’re only human, this will help you embrace that very human side of you. You make mistakes. So what? The more mistakes you make the more you know what you need to study and the better at art you become. Mistakes are there to show us what we need to learn. See them as another tool and not a sign of failure.

Make the process as enjoyable as possible: You like art. You love drawing. Never forget this. Otherwise why are you drawing if you don’t enjoy it? It’s easy to fall prey to the mentality of those relatable memes that “art= suffering” or “I can’t even draw the other eye”. No no no my friends, these messages are fueling your insecurities instead of overcoming them. Let me tell you what, art is fun. It is. Art is fun, because I decided to make it fun again. And you should decide on that too. Personally I adore lineart but my hand-eye coordination is lacking to do it digitally, so....I just skipped it. Yes. I skipped it. I do the sketch, I clean it up a bit and then jump onto color which I adore. It allowed me to draw more and more freely. When I draw I listen to music, make strokes with the rhythm, I take breaks often and I drink my favorite iced teas. If you don’t like coloring do it in grayscale, if you love lineart then do that etc It doesn’t mean you won’t learn your weak points in the future with studies and practice, but you won’t let your weaknesses prevent you from drawing at all. No no, you won’t let them. You draw because you want to, despite of them.

Don’t wait for inspiration, provoke it Inspiration is not a divine and capricious muse. You make inspiration. It’s easy just collect all the things you like, music, artists, objects, characters, animals, patterns, plants etc Make boards on pinterest or similar sites, combine things you like. You like suits? You like birds? You can draw a bird in a suit, or a bird-inspired suit design, there is frankly a lot of ideas that can spring up from little things like these.

When a project stops being enjoyable either pause it for now or move on to the next thing. Pieces aren’t precious. They’re not “the one time I got x right” they are one of many. This advice goes mainly to hobbyists who can afford the luxury of passing to a new project. I have a WIP of a character who is overly complicated (I enjoy a challenge from time to time) sitting for half a month. I sometimes come back to it and add something... but as soon as it starts to create discomfort and insecurity instead of enjoyment I move onto something else. In the meantime I created 3 or 4 new pieces. If I had waited on finishing that piece I would have been severely creatively and physically exhausted. The art comes from you, not inspiration. The more art you make the better you become.

That’s about it :D I know it’s long but I prefer to be thorough and cover all the possibilities. If you have read of this: Thank you so much I hope this helps you at least a bit, if it helps only 1 other person I’d still be very happy. Have a nice one, and kick art block’s butt!

#art block #art block tips #art block advice #art advice #art help #BloggityDiary #art reference #I hope this will help someone out #This will also help me remember my own advice sksksk

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tchallasbabymama · 3 years

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Troubled Waters Prologue

Hey y’all! Some of you may have seen this already, but I took it down and reworked it a little bit. Check out my masterlist to read my other stories, and let me know if you want to be tagged in anything. Enjoy!

Word count: 1,723

Aziza [a-zee-za] noun: A benevolent magical species with moderate stature, pointed ears, colorful wings, and deep brown skin that always has a slight glow. They enjoy music, dancing, and frolicking with human children. They also have a propensity for plant magic and hunting and tend to dwell in or around the rainforest.

Long before humans ever stepped foot in Wakanda, the aziza were appointed guardians of the land by the panther goddess, Bast. Aziza lived in harmony with the other magical beings, with a few exceptions, and the queen of the aziza ruled over all of Wakanda. That is until these strange, magicless creatures stumbled into the forest one day and were immediately accosted by some of the more malevolent beings that inhabited the land. Several aziza sprang into action to protect the newcomers and were able to stop the evil obambo from possessing them and driving them mad. When the heroic team of aziza brought the defenseless humans to the queen, she welcomed them into her kingdom with open arms and gave them their own plot of land that was locked between her forest and a dangerous mountain range.

When left to their own devices, the humans began to fight with each other over resources and the right to rule. Queen Ani grew tired of the fighting and called on Bast to help end the constant wars. The goddess instructed her to find a man named Bashenga and bring him to her garden. Apparently, her favorite flower had a strange effect on humans. To all the other beings under her rule, the flower simply acted as an ointment of sorts, but it made humans powerful. Queen Ani followed Bast’s instructions and ground up the petals for Bashenga to consume. She buried him in the rich soil, and when he emerged minutes later, he was a new man. He was a leader, a champion, a king.

Humans and magical beings lived in harmony in isolation from the outside world for centuries until a strange thing started happening on the continent. People were disappearing from the western coast, and when the queen of the aziza heard about it, she brought it to the human king’s attention. King Amir refused to help out of fear of exposing his kingdom to the world, and Queen Onara became incensed. She couldn’t believe he was turning his back on his own kind. The queen wanted nothing more to do with him and his cowardly people, so she called on Bast again. The goddess made another realm within Wakanda for the magical creatures to live in. Onara assumed it would be difficult to get the other species on board, but, as it turned out, most of them were eager to get away from the humans. It seemed the only ones that actually liked them were the aziza, but that quickly changed upon hearing of their negligence. A few even chose to travel to the new world in disguise to help the humans that had been taken. The aziza operatives did their best to help them, but there were just too many for them to save. Their numbers were few, but they were able to perform small acts of magic to help where they could.

Over the years, magical creatures became a thing of the past to the Wakandans. They became bedtime stories and folk tales, but nobody truly believed in their existence anymore except for the children the aziza would occasionally visit when they felt like being playful.

————

One sunny afternoon, a little aziza was playing down by the river when she sneezed, and her surroundings changed. Everything looked almost the same but slightly less vibrant despite the bold greens and blues around her. She turned around and couldn’t see her village in the distance, but instead, she saw a boy about her age splashing in the water.

She emerged from behind the bushes and called out to him, “Sawubona!”

The boy looked up, and his eyebrows furrowed. He was sure he had been alone.

“Um, mholweni...ungubani?”

“I’m Nia. Who are you?”

“You speak Xhosa?”

“I speak a bunch of languages,” she giggled. “You speak Zulu?”

“Yeah. I bet I speak more languages than you,” he challenged her.

Nia’s face scrunched up as she counted up all the languages she knew.

“I speak thirteen so far, but I’m only eight,” she shrugged.

“Wow, thirteen?! I can only speak five.” He looked dejected, and she hated seeing the look on his face, so she quickly changed the subject.

“Can I swim with you?”

“Sure, but...where did you come from?” the boy asked as he looked around. “You just sort of came out of nowhere.”

Nia was young, but she knew she was in the human realm. She had visited plenty of times with her ubaba and knew it well. She just wasn’t sure how she got there this time. However, she knew not to tell him exactly what she was, so the little aziza tucked her ears under her colorful headband as she stepped closer and tried to think of a good explanation.

“My ubaba says I’m sneaky like that,” she shrugged. “Want to play tag?”

“You’re it!” he yelled as he splashed her and swam away as fast as he could. She cut her eyes at him and wiggled out of her clothes before jumping in after him. She quickly caught up to him, much to his surprise, but he stopped when it was his turn to chase her. The boy noticed something strange on her back as she swam away, and he grew concerned.

“What happened?”

Nia quickly turned around, confused by the tone of his voice, “To what?”

“To you. The scars,” he pointed to her back.

“Oh,” Nia had to think fast again. “It’s just a really big birthmark.”

“Really? That’s so cool! It looks like two wings,” he mused before his eyes lit up and he gasped loudly. “What if you can fly?”

“I wish,” she said with a certain sadness to her voice that confused him. He noticed the heaviness in her eyes and decided to lighten to mood a little by splashing her in her face. It worked, and they were off again.

The two of them spent the afternoon splashing away in the river, laughs echoing loudly as they played until a deep voice called out, and the boy froze.

“T’Challa!”

“Coming, baba!” he yelled back before turning to his new friend, who had just figured out that she had been playing with the Crown Prince of Wakanda this whole time. “I have to go. I’m not supposed to be out here.”

Nia’s face deflated until she looked at the shadows and realized too much time had passed since she left home. She nodded solemnly, and they swam to shore. They begrudgingly got dressed in silence until T’Challa spoke up.

“Can I see you again? I had fun today… I don’t get to have fun often,” he looked at the ground, and she hugged him tight to make him smile.

“I can come back tomorrow,” Nia said, making his face light up.

“Deal!”

The two kids said their goodbyes, and Nia watched as T’Challa ran through the trees towards the disembodied voice. She turned around to leave the same way she came and jumped at the sight of her father.

“Did you have fun?” he asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Nia nodded enthusiastically, “I made a friend!”

“I saw,” he chuckled. “How’d you get over on this side?”

“I sneezed,” Nia shrugged as she grabbed her ubaba’s hand, and they shimmered back over to the magic realm. That night, he began to teach her how to clear her mind and travel between the realms intentionally. Nia took to it quickly, and she was excited to explore the human realm, her mother’s realm, more than ever before.

Amare, an aziza, and Celeste, a human, met and fell in love while he was stationed in New York for his first tour as a secret operative. When Amare heard about what the human Wakandans had allowed to happen to their kin, he jumped at the chance to make a difference. It was a dangerous job, dealing with humans and the occasional fae, but he loved it. Almost immediately, he met and fell in love with Celeste, a vivacious and opinionated brown-skinned beauty from Harlem. They lived together for two blissful years before they found out they were expecting a child. Celeste was over the moon, but Amare couldn’t help but worry. There had been very few half-human, half aziza babies over the years, but they always took a massive toll on human mothers. Amare knew then that he might have to say goodbye to the love of his life. Sadly, he was right. The baby’s higher need for energy to fuel her growing magic drained her mother dry, and Celeste was even too weak to push. She didn’t survive the cesarean.

Amare brought his baby girl back home to Wakanda, and they lived in a small home near the rainforest on the outskirts of the Border province that he had enchanted to straddle both realms. He raised Nia the same as any other aziza child, but they often traveled to the human realm so she could be among her people. Before popping over to the other side, he’d always cast a glamour spell to hide his wings, making them lay flush against his back so that they looked like intricate tattoos. Nia was always jealous of her dad’s bright orange wings since she never got hers, just the giant wing-shaped scars that covered her back. She always felt a little broken, like she wasn’t as good as the other aziza kids, so when she met T’Challa she was excited to have her first human friend. Or so she thought.

Nia went back to the river the next day and waited for T’Challa. She waited and waited, but he was nowhere to be found. She tried again every day for a week, but he never showed. His absence started to weigh on her, and Amare hated to see his little girl look so sad. After day seven, he put a stop to it and Nia eventually gave up on her so-called friend. However, the pain of his abandonment never really went away.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @bribrisback, @impremenior, @ljstraightnochaser

#cecewritessometimes #black panther au #black panther fanfiction #t'challa x oc #black!oc #troubled waters

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stardancerluv · 1 year

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I posted 732 times in 2022

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I tagged 296 of my posts in 2022

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#supporting our creators is how we keep this site going

My Top Posts in 2022:

Umm dead.

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239 notes - Posted August 4, 2022

Blossoming of a Shy Violet

Part 7

Summary: You dance out your feelings.

“Alright! Good night, dad!” You called from the doorway of your room. Closing the door, you leaned heavily against it.

You don’t know what got into you, but you had an idea. Going over to it, you quickly stripped down to your panties. Your bra sat on top of the pile.

Tilting your head from side to side, you had to admit you didn't look half bad. You turned on the radio. You smiled, your favorite Led Zeppelin song was on. You resisted the urge to turn it up.

…honey you need it

I'm gonna give you my love

Want to whole lotta love

******

He really hoped he had not made you uncomfortable. Why didn’t even you smile his way. He was worried, so worried. And this was very unlike him. No one shook him. You did.

He really hoped none of your neighbors were being nosey. It was a late. Taking a breath, he leaned over and peaked into the window. It certainly was yours!

He immediately looked away, he covered his mouth with his hands. His heart beat heavily and fast in his chest. He had to look again.

It was too much, he almost choked as you crawled onto your bed. He was tapping on your window, before he even realized he was doing it.

He watched, that at the sudden sound you collapsed onto your bed. He repressed the urge to chuckle. You quickly gathered yourself and immediately wrapped the hoodie closer to you.

He gave you a sheepish smile, when you turn and saw him. He waved. Your surprised expression was actually the sweetest thing, he’d ever seen. But it did little to help his state.

“Are you going to let me in?” He finally mouthed to you.

You nodded. Eyeing the window, you finally undid the lock and opened the window.

“What are you doing here?” You hissed.

“Can I come in and explain?”

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269 notes - Posted July 24, 2022

Umm wow… he looks so good!!!

272 notes - Posted August 15, 2022

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My #1 post of 2022

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375 notes - Posted July 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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thisnoodlewritesao3 · 3 years

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Ok ok ok so theres a soulmate prompts and it's the most important thing your soulmate says to you is written on you and like i think it would be a great prompt for either Kyoutani or Ushijima and it be something along the lines of I love you something that people hear everyday but would mean so much more than just "I love you" coming from them

Okay, ngl, I was struggling a bit with this one. Motivation really said nope. But! Then, something happened today, and this ended up a little longer than I wanted it to. But! It is so good. So here, my lovely little anon, have my heart and soul

Thank you for sending in a request to the event my dear

----

The idea of having a soulmate was sweet in and of itself; actually having a soulmate was a different story of whether you could actually find them. Because in a world so big and full of people, the chance of finding them was getting so rare that it was more surprising to see a pair of soulmates than it was to see a regular couple who had chosen to be together.

It didn’t help that you only had a phrase on your wrist to go by. “That sentence will be the most important thing your soulmate will say to you,” your 6th grade teacher mused with stars in her eyes, “and your soulmate is someone who you will feel the most connected to, things will feel right, like everything has fallen into place.” At the time, you were infatuated with soulmates (maybe because they held the love that you lacked), but you’d grown to realise how small of a chance you had to find your soulmate.

I love you.

Of course you couldn’t have something normal, something easy to recognise. Now you had to second guess every single time someone told you they loved you, whether you’d felt some sort of special connection or whether it was just a friendly remark. Life was ever confusing.

You settled on the idea you had no hope to find your soulmate, that you’d have to create your own special connection with someone - that made you content - because special connections can be made with time and care.

That was why you’d loved you’d met Kyoutani Kentarou - maybe it was a bad thing that you two fueled each other’s flames but who was to stop you? No one, that would be the first problem. You’d met at a volleyball camp for young kids, your brother wanted to go so your mom made you go with him; it was like you locked eyes and were instantly drawn to each other.

As much as neither of you liked to admit it, no one could make you happier than the other. He was the spark in your step, the flame in your heart, the roar you needed to fight back. You were his calm, an ocean in a world surrounded by destruction, the bite he needed to pull back. That wasn’t to say you weren’t just as chaotic - if not more - than he was. Sure, he'd be the one to start fights, but you preferred to finish them. To push buttons beyond relief.

Neither of you had exceptional social skills, but who needs social skills when you already found the person who compliments you so well.

He may not have been the reason you played volleyball initially, but he was the reason you stayed. And, like Kyoutani, if you’re going to put your energy into something, you put 100% of your effort into it. The same way you’d put 100% into your relationship with him.

Kyoutani started your adventures together and you tagged along. When he joined Aoba Johsai, you were hot on his tail. He joined the boys VBC team, and you joined the girls. It meant you spent a little less time together, but when you were together you had so much to talk about.

So maybe things started to go wrong when you started getting closer to your team and he was at an impasse. More temperamental and on edge than ever before. And that shitty captain of his didn’t help much either, but you helped where you could - even when it didn’t seem to go anywhere.

And when he was kicked out of his club, you followed suit once again, quitting yours until he got a chance to join again. Even when you were suffering, it couldn’t have equated to what he was feeling, so you dealt with it.

“Why did you do it?” He asked, glaring off into the distance after school. You didn't know why you were waiting around, but he said he had something to do, so you joined him.

“What?” You quirked a brow up at him.

“Quit your club.” He elaborated and you shrugged.

“Where you go, I go, no matter what, Kenta.” You looked away before you could see the emotions on his face shift from his typical glare to something more. Something light and filled with adoration and confusion all at one. His hand unconsciously went to his shoulder, where the words of his soulmate lay. You weren’t even paying attention. He could have sworn his heart fluttered in that moment.

Of course, he’d always liked you in some way, that was why he let you stick around - and maybe there was a deeper connection he couldn’t explain. But there was an issue: he didn’t want things to change. Maybe he was being selfish, who cares. Not him. Definitely not him.

Things only got worse when he started to notice things about you, things he’d seen before but hadn’t really paid attention to. Like the way you swayed your head in deep concentration, or how your eyes would light up when talking about something you were passionate about. How you’d bite your lip nervously as he argued with people. Even that you’d reach out and grab his shirt just before he swung to punch. You’d stand more behind him when the volleyball came around him, like you were on edge around them, eyes constantly flickering between them and him for any signs of hostility. You didn’t seem to trust them (with the exception of Iwaizumi because he trusted Iwaizumi).

Every little thing you did drove him crazy. So what if he’d fallen for you? You didn’t need to know because things didn’t need to change.

Watching you play volleyball was like a different kind of rush - you were a Libero - every movement was calm and calculated as you dove across the court. He can only imagine how it must have felt for you. And the fact you insisted on wearing a skirt on the court drove him insane.

You must have noticed, because you brought it up. “You doing okay, Ken?” You tilt your head to the side, trying to work out the wonders in his mind. For the ninth time today, he avoids your eyes. You’re starting to feel offended, have you done something wrong? You couldn’t think of anything you’d done wrong, but maybe you just weren’t thinking hard enough.

“‘M fine.” He sighed; you looked up at him with wide doe eyes and he thought his heart might melt. Then you did the worst thing you could have done; you reached out and squeezed his hand. He tried to pull away, but you wouldn’t let him - in the end, he ended up falling over, you ended up falling with him. On top of him.

Was this heaven or hell? He’d find out later. Of course he knew you were his soulmate, but you didn’t know. You couldn’t know. He wouldn’t let you know. Because things were fine how they were. And what if he wasn’t good enough? What if he hurt you somehow? You were happy right now, weren’t you? So maybe everything would be fi-

You slapped his cheek harshly, glaring down at him. “Kyoutani Kentarou-” oh no, so you were mad “- if you don’t tell me what’s happening right now, I swear to God.” He cringed away. By trying not to hurt you, he’d hurt you - who could have predicted this would happen?

What would the consequences be if he told you how he felt? Maybe you’d be happy, or maybe you’d be mad. He’d be putting everything on the line right now. But the way you looked at him - almost darkly, some sadness, but most of all confusion and anger. It made his heart stung.

Before he could think more, his mouth worked faster than his mind, “I love you!” He almost yelled it out, he was staring directly in your eyes; he got to watch your emotions shift. It was like you went through the five stages of grief: denial (in the form of confusion), anger (your brows furrowed together and knuckles turned white), bargaining (your eyes pleaded with him to change his mind, or the words he used, or anything), depression (you pulled in on yourself, he could feel all your muscles tense), and then there was a pause, your face went blank, you were searching his eyes for something - anything - and you seemed to find it. Acceptance: you wrapped your arms around him and buried your head in the crook of his neck.

You could never be sure whether he was actually your soulmate, but something about that look in his eyes told you he meant it. No if’s, and’s or but’s. His heart was yours, and yours his. Wherever he went, you followed.

The only time you didn’t follow him was when you walked down the aisle.

----

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 10

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. Mild smut in this chapter.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Tony fluff, Tony snark, Tony sass and Tony smut (finally!). My & reader's brain be like: tony tony tony tony. A request for my readers: do I write a believeable tony? Is he in character, more or less?

My beta @miscmarvelwritings - she's not into Tony but even then, she was finally excited about them finally getting down & dirty. The patience of this woman...

"Tony, could I borrow, like, a hoodie or something?"

He eyed my attire critically for a moment, seemingly coming to the same conclusion I did minutes earlier, and made a beeline for the couch in the back of the lab. Picking up and examining a black mass of fabric, deeming it satisfactory, he tossed it to me. "It's clean enough, I guess."

The thin straps of my mesh top rubbed against a lot of tender skin, leaving pink lines in the wake of it. A sigh of relief escaped me involuntarily when I removed it -

"Woah, woah," Tony squeaked, covering his eyes with an exaggerated gesture. "Warn a man!"

I honestly didn't see what the big deal was. "Tony, chill. I'm pretty sure you've seen it all and then some." I snorted, stretching briefly, shrugging on the slightly oversized hoodie. It smelled like the lab - like Tony, too, but mostly like motor oil and iron. Beggars can't be choosers, however - I had already devised and executed the plan that will let me keep the hoodie.

"When you put it that way..." He smirked, briefly returning to his usual self and giving me a salacious eyebrow wiggle.

I laughed in response, wiggling my hips, feeling the hem of my skirt swish against my thighs. I considered removing the fishnet tights, too, but a brief look in the reflective wall divide between Tony's and Bruce's labs got me pulling out my phone to take two dozen selfies. I looked great with Tony's clothes on.

The engineer chuckled at my antics, coming up behind me as I sat on the floor with my knee raised, chin resting on it. The amber liquid sloshed over the top of his glass, dripping down his fingers. He sat behind me.

"Weller Full Bourbon?" I asked, bringing my nose closer to his fingers to get a good whiff. The distinctive vanilla notes in his whiskey were unmistakable. "Good choice," I made a serious face. "Fancy."

"I can afford it, darling," He snarked back, devoid of malice.

He was so close. And so warm. And I needed a new screensaver. Shuffling back, I reclined against Tony's chest, carefully wedging my head in the crook of his neck.

God help me.

I felt his breath hitch. The dark, magnetic pools of his eyes stared at me from our combined reflection. Tony's eyes were the most expressive, he could fake a smile, he could charm the press and countless investors, but his eyes only spoke the truth. Always. I loved working with Tony because his gaze would light up. It was akin to seeing a little kid on Christmas.

A muscular arm snaked around my waist, pressing my back to his chest. The metal of his arc reactor jabbed uncomfortably between my shoulder blades but there was nowhere else I'd rather be.

"You're filming, Princess," He interrupted my Moment.

"Sure," I answered, not caring. There could be another alien invasion happening and I wasn't able to give a damn.

I felt the vibrant chuckle more than heard; Tony snatched the phone out of my hand without permission. I noticed the furrowed brow when he opened my Instagram and saw the unmistakable evidence of my frequent partying, yet he didn't comment on it.

"Tony, the press is going to go nuts," I raised my eyebrows, seeing what he was planning to do.

"They've seen me doing worse things," He scoffed. And took a photo of us ‘just chilling’ in his lab, hugging. He picked out a filter and everything., and then posted it.

"First of all, I am pretty awesome to be 'doing', I've had only good feedback," I scoffed at his dismissive attitude, using my free hand to make quote marks. Then I turned my head to stare him square in the face. "Steve's going to be pissed and Ms. Potts is going to call to yell at you." I punctuated the statements with a raised eyebrow.

There was really no innocent way the press could represent the photo that he posted. I didn't care for it, my parents wouldn't give a damn (my father probably would encourage it, the free publicity and all). Tony himself didn't seem like the kind of man to care much about some gossip articles, if anything, he enjoyed provoking them into a frenzy. Or at least, he used to.

"I'll put them both on hold. I like to watch the line blink," Tony winked, smirking. "I've been told the press expects me to have a midlife crisis since my last breakup," Eyes darkening, the man swiftly finished off his drink.

Midlife crisis seemed such a bitter way of putting it. Considering my own preferences in romantic partners, I couldn't help but feel offended at the way people offhandedly dished out labels - "midlife crisis", "daddy issues" and so on and so forth. The briefest part of me traveled back to Mr. Davies' living room where - no, I am not going there.

"Huh," I said, coming to a conclusion. A sad one at that.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Princess, but you don't seem like the kind of girl who thinks about pesky things like reputation or consequences," Tony mused idly, coming to a conclusion of his own.

"Nope, I don't give a fuck," I agreed with his opinion wholeheartedly. "If I would have a publicist, they would quit on the second day."

"I pay mine, uh, twice the average amount and they still quit. We're doomed, baby," Tony's gleeful face was mere inches away from my own, whiskey-tipsy and glowing.

I snorted, sliding lower to further burrow into his arms. Tony's sudden touchy-feely mode wasn't lost on me. My own touch starvation overrode any common sense that I had left. The totally-PG (well, not quite) embrace, one armed hug brought me more satisfaction than any of my sexual partners had ever achieved to give me.

"Why are there so many messages from Banner? Are you staging a world domination plan and forgot to include me? I'm hurt!" Tony exclaimed suddenly, a whiny tone to his voice.

"Thor's space yeasts have corrupted our minds with their spores. Soon all will become... Mushroom!" I deepened my voice for the dramatic effect, flailing my arms on the last word for the extra flair.

The man wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye; his eyes were sparkling, laughing even. "I'm evicting Thor and his supremely selfish yeast. How dare it ignore me."

"I vouched for you, I really did," I kept up the silly game. "But alas, the yeasts deemed you too... Boomer," The pride in my voice could barely hold back the laughter threatening to spill.

"Did you just..?" Tony gaped. "Did you just call me old?!"

I attempted to get away, shrieking when the tips of Tony's fingers squirmed along my midsection. "It was the yeast! IT WAS THE YEAST!" My resistance proved to be futile. The engineer had mass and strength on his side, years of piloting and maneuvering the Iron Man suits showing just how quick and nimble he could be when the situation demanded it.

"Take that from an old man!" He exclaimed triumphantly, using his arm to hold down both of my hands from grasping at him. One of his legs held down my own; we were a squirming, writhing mass of limbs in the heat of a tickle fight.

The cocaine in my blood, the mild buzz from being drunk on Tony - my body reacted to the close proximity of the man who occupied my fantasies. I was blushing, breathing heavily, and it wasn't just from the exertion. It should have affected me less, but I struggled to keep my eyes from Tony's face; his own flush, the moist part of his lips.

I wondered how a deer in the headlights felt. Was it hot, like it's body was suddenly alight, or was it cold, liquid nitrogen freezing in its veins?

"Fuck," I mumbled half-coherently.

"What was that?" He arched an eyebrow, clever eyes carefully watching my own.

"I'm in trouble," I chuckled weakly, looking away, pretending to struggle against his arms.

"You're trouble," He announced, grinning. His fingertips slowed, skimming gently along my sides now.

I retaliated with a tentative brush of my foot along the softness of his jean-covered inner thigh. It was euphoric, seeing Tony shudder, the thick eyelashes fluttering for the briefest part of a second.

"We should stop," He whispered suddenly, making a move to disentangle us both. Mixed signals, we've got em, ladies and gentlemen.

"Why?" I was tired of this dance. It was fun but painful. My firm decision of the past still stood: I won't be the lovesick fangirl, I won't be another notch in his bedpost. The resolve was crumbling but it was still there, to some point.

"You're not sober, this is wrong," He mumbled. "I'm more than twice your age, Princess."

That ship had sailed, Tony. If only you knew... "Do you seriously expect me, out of all people, to find common ground with someone my age? Someone like Peter? Jeez," I tried to be amused. If it came out more pleading, I pretended to not notice it. It was the moment of truth. It needed to be said. "I'm FUBAR, Tony. I'm lucky if anyone at all will want to put up with me, much less someone I can stand. I'm spoiled, I'm selfish, and annoying. I know that. I just thought we were friends and you'd be...kinder about it." My mumbling was met with a somewhat perplexed stare.

"I..." His eyebrows threatened to have a close encounter with his hairline. "What the fuck? Are you dead set on giving me a stroke today? I have a heart condition," He yanked me back towards his chest, unceremonious and indignant. "You can be so smart yet so stupid. Gosh, where is the world rolling, I'm quoting Pepper now." He seemed to be muttering to himself.

"Pot, kettle." I didn't resist the urge to snark.

"Right," Tony rolled his eyes. "You're beautiful and all that jazz. You deserve much more than this." Uncharacteristically sad, he pointed to himself, again. "I'm an old man with more issues than Playboy magazine."

"And I'm an angsty teenager with daddy issues, we're a match made in heaven."

"Hell," Tony was eyeing our combined reflection with a sort of petulance. It was hard keeping track of his microexpressions; his eyes and face held fleeting, half-finished thoughts, just like when he was creating, inventing something new.

"Works for me. Lucifer's hot," I answered with my brain on autopilot. He caught my eyes in the shiny glass, trapping me in his calculative gaze.

"The Netflix one or the Supernatural one?" Tony asked, equally absent from the conversation. Neither of us were able to break eye contact, breathing laboured and hearts thudding in our chests. I felt Tony's pulse fluttering under my palm where I'd rested it on his wrist.

The organ that dutifully pumped blood through my own veins and kept me alive threatened to escape my body, jump out of my chest, make its way out my mouth. Tony's unblinking stare penetrated my skin, seeped into the hollow behind my eyelids, ignited a flame within me and froze my thoughts.

"The one with the detective kink," I answered breathily. "I have an affinity for brown-eyed, narcissistic, sarcastic men with self-destructive tendencies," The last part of my sentence was swallowed by Tony's lips.

My brain shorted out, just like that. Bourbon on his breath and a new dose of snark on his tongue, he licked into my mouth with the grace and finesse of years of experience. It was sudden, it was rough, it was fantastic. His beard left marks on my face and I craved the burn of it.

"Fuck," I moaned when we were forced to surface for oxygen. My hips had moved, pressed against his own, prominent arousal digging into the small of my back. Tony had me moaning and grinding into it in mere seconds.

A hand rested on my face with surprising tenderness, turning my face to look at my own reflection. My hair was a mess, lips puffy - Tony wasn't looking any better, hunger and lust in plain view. It was a good look on him.

"Watch," His breath ghosted over the shell of my ear, lips traveling to the nape of my neck to attach themselves to the very sensitive flesh of that area.

I obeyed, gazing at the scene with lidded eyes. Keeping them open was a struggle. My body was flooded with sensation, riding the waves of pleasure like a rollercoaster. I wanted to please him, needed to obey him, to feel him.

My thighs quivered at Tony's touch. There was no warning, no preamble as he wedged a firm hand, separating them quickly to follow the heat. His biceps flexed deliciously. Under my skirt, through the fishnets and the tiny, lacy panties I wore.

"Fucking shit," The man moaned loudly, finding me, predictably, soaking wet. It was one hot, sticky mess between my legs.

The keen that left my mouth might've been embarrassing, yet it only spurred Tony on. Gently parting my lower lips, he gathered the moisture, suddenly withdrawing from me. My confusion met his amusement in the mirror as he stuck the two fingers in his mouth, moaning obscenely and loudly at the taste.

The corners of my mouth lifted, happy. "To-ony," I whined, my pussy aching for more. Now that I had felt the relief and pleasure of his touch, I didn't want it to end.

"Princess," He replied, seriously and sternly. I shuddered at the scratchiness of his voice. The hand that I was missing returned, stroking over the outside of my pussy with broad, soft motions. I arched, presented myself into the touch. "So eager," Tony mumbled into my shoulder, catching a bit of my skin between his teeth.

His fingers dipped deeper, delving in between the puffy, engorged flesh and stroking once, twice, before finding my clit. The pads of Tony's fingers were rough, hardened by manual work and hours spent in front of his inventions, making, tinkering, creating. The friction was perfect. I followed each stroke with a fluid motion of my hips.

"Tony, fuck," I slurred my approval, needing him to know how amazing he made me feel. Tony's form pressed closer, both of us melting, molding into each other.

"Baby girl, what do you need?" His raspy voice tickled my neck. I was sure there would be an array of marks decorating me come morning and absolutely loved the thought. I belonged to Tony Stark, in body and heart and mind and soul.

"I want to cum," I had no shame left. "I want to feel you."

He groaned, rutting into me. A squeak was all I managed to emit as two thick fingers plunged inside of me with a wet squelch. My pussy immediately took hold of the situation, squeezing and rippling around them. I was so close, my nerves pulled up taut like an overtaxed string. The effect this man had on me was positively unholy.

My clit throbbed under his thumb. Tony somehow managed to reach every single sweet spot on my body, effortlessly, easily, like he'd done it a thousand times.

"Ohmyfuckinggod, Tony," I came hard, shuddering, drenching the fingers inside of me. The moment I began sagging in his arms was the moment they tightened around me; I felt Tony grind helplessly against me, saw his own eyes slam shut and his brow furrow.

The hand that was in me withdrew rapidly as he hastily popped the button on his pants, freeing his cock and giving it several desperate tugs. I couldn't see it; I had to settle for the sensation of his hand, his hips rubbing against my clothed back.

He came quickly, with a loud shout. My curiosity got the best of me and I used the brief moment of his weakness to turn around, take a good look at him.

Tony was a fucking mess with a fucking gorgeous cock. Thick and veiny.

My face was level with it before he could have opened his eyes. I wanted, craved to know how he tasted. With gentle kitten licks, I collected the stray drops of cum running down his hand, careful of the rapidly softening, sensitive flesh.

His eyes popped open in surprise. I smiled at him, unseeing, collecting as much of him as I could.

"Fuck, Princess," He breathed. "I'm just a man, I'm pushing fifty," Gently pulling my head away but holding it mere inches from his cock. Indecisive.

I reached over for his hand with my own, popping finger after finger in my mouth, collecting every drop of cum like it was nectar. I could be good...I If properly motivated. The salty musk was all the motivation I needed at that moment. He pulled me in for a filthy, sloppy kiss once I was done, both of us humming, vocalising the shared pleasure.

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