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thetrashbagswasteland · 5 months

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Today only from a card carrying member of the Castis Vakarian Appreciation Squad, a refresher on canon since there's a not-zero number of people in 2024 who seem blissfully unaware of how much we know about this man in canon (including andromeda yes the game is canon go cry about it).

He's a cop. Yes Castis works for C-Sec, implied within the same unit/building as Garrus and to the contrary of his son, is implied to be both good at his job and well-regarded for it. (This will be important for later points try to remember it.)

He has alien friends. Castis is canonically one of Alec Ryder's best friends. They're good enough friends that he passes on rumours/heresay about the Reapers to him and reminisces about spending time with him on the Citadel. Any turian old enough to have been an adult during the FCW and who has human friends as of canon prolly isn't a miserable old xenophobe. Whilst no, working at C-Sec doesn't exclude him from having shitty thoughts about Krogan and Quarians, it's a fairly good sign he's not anti-alien on the whole if he'll befriend a human.

He's got a personality. How dare minor characters have those! But more seriously, acting as if Castis is portrayed as nothing but a rule-worshipping automaton is doing him a disservice. If nothing else, his willingness to befriend and hang out with Alec, who's very much of the opinion that rules are guidelines to be circumvented when at all possible, shows that he's capable of nuance and maybe even a dash of line-pushing of his own accord. Maybe he's comfortable within the system and trusts law and order as set out legally above all else but c'mon guys, you don't hang out with a guy who goes on to break AI law and get dishonourably discharged (and then remain friends with him after that when it's made damned clear few others do) without being able to see shades of grey.

He trusts his son. This one I suspect may be more contentious BUT let's be honest here, Garrus isn't an easy person to be around. We hear about the pair of them clashing on the job and within their personal lives about the spectres but here's the thing: Garrus winds up on a secretive mission with a human and xenophobic terrorist group, after running off to a lawless hellscape to play batman. He remains distant until done working with Cererbus and then returns home with a crazy tale about a dead human spectre, genocidal robots from the year dot and half his face missing. Castis not only believes him but does so willingly enough that he does everything he can to help him get the news to the right people, just in case he's right. Equally, whilst we don't have an exact date for when the call with Alec occurs, it's post-start of ME1 at the very least and within that he's already willing to take what Garrus is saying Shepard says at face value. Within that call, it's made patently obvious that no matter what, he still trusts Garrus on some level and is proud of him on top of that trust.

He cares deeply for the people around him. Perhaps this one's linked with 3 but whatever, my post, my rules; in the comics, the picture we're painted by (unreliable narrator) Garrus is that of a driven, cold man who doesn't care enough about his own family. This is why he doesn't come home when Mama Vakarian gets hurt, we're told, and we're expected to take that as face value even when she herself says that by the time he can get away from work and be back there, she'll be mostly healed. Kinda contrasted by the fact that he seemingly retires/takes time off from C-Sec to be with his wife when she's dying. Now, the details are kinda fuzzy on the whys and hows but during ME3, he and Solana escape Palaven together. Maybe the war's going poorly enough that they're able to finagle staying together through the draft, maybe they come across one another purely by luck, we don't know. Either way, rather than attempt to get back to the Citadel and to where he presumably still had a job and/or was needed, he sticks with his daughter. Can't do anything more to help his son but he's gonna stick with at least one of his kids to make sure she survives. As well as all this, the "do things properly or don't do them at all" lesson Garrus struggles with from him is (gasp) not bad advice for their situation. He's trying to teach his son important life skills and whilst there's no denying he's going about it wrong, a key point is in fact that Garrus learns to master the gun he's struggling to fire and it in fact becomes one of his specialities! He becomes an exceptionally good marksman! The lesson fucking worked! He still, regardless of the reasons for it, seems to support and be content with Garrus not fulfilling his mandatory 15 but instead joining C-Sec and (worse still) doesn't have too much of an issue with him consorting with Spectres. Perhaps he's not best pleased but he definitely comes to accept that that's how things are irrespective of his own feelings about them as either a concept or as people (his belief that Garrus being a spectre would be a terrible no good very bad idea is, in fact, backed up by canon as being entirely correct too).

Conclusion/TL:DR. Take a lesson from Castis Vakarian himself here, either write about this man properly or don't write him at all, I'm begging y'all. There's an awful lot more to this character if you think about him and put together the information canon gives us on him, so do so.

#meta #character analysis #Castis Vakarian #garrus vakarian #turian #shakarian #also yeah MEA which gave us a canon name for him came out in 2017. Y'all have had 7 years to learn his name even if you had named him prior #do better.

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skepsiss · 8 months

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Tooth and Nail pt2

Part 2 of this mini-series. I guess I'm writing like 4 mini-series right now. This story is about Eddie being the one to question his sexuality after Steve comes out first. Read the first part to get the full details.

This part is pretty darn sad with a lot of introspection. I put up a mini-poll asking people what they wanted to read the most and Eddie being introspective was winning when I started writing this. I'm likely to write all the options on that poll still, so don't fret. I want to say clearly too that I do not agree with Eddie's thoughts. Sharing your emotions is never selfish and I think the fact that he feels like a burden is something he needs to work through. He is unwell. I'll admit I made myself cry writing this so if you're emotionally fragile like I am (lol) read at your own risk.

TW: Internalized homophobia (he's working through it), self-hatred, brief thoughts on death, mention of war (Vietnam and Korea).

PT1 PT2 PT3

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"I kissed Steve."

"What?" Gareth said, startled as he stared at Eddie.

Eddie was sitting on a beaten-up old armchair in Jeff’s garage; it was night and they’d opened the garage door to let in the summer air. The whole block was having a party and despite the time of night, the street was still alight with lamps and Christmas lights as people mingled in the street. Eddie had taken refuge in the garage (slightly paranoid that someone was going to touch the band equipment) after the first hour of forcing himself to be social. He had a beer in hand, even though he was underage, but it didn’t seem like any of the adults cared as long as they behaved. Hell, Eddie didn’t even live on this block but he was here enough that the neighbours didn’t seem to mind.

“A week and a half ago,” Eddie answered. He was slouching badly with one leg up on the seat, looking as if he was trying to lounge on a satee instead of a corduroy, La-Z-Boy from the 60s.

“Wait–sorry, what?” Gareth asked again, holding his own beer between his knees as he stared at Eddie. He had come to join him a few moments ago since Eddie had been moping by himself, and then they had proceeded to sit in silence until now.

Eddie flicked his gaze over to the younger boy before taking a long sip of his beer as if to say, yeah, you heard right without the willingness to repeat himself. He was quietly pissed, actually, but was chomping at the bit to talk to someone about it.

“So, are you like…” Gareth started, waving one of his hands as if that would fill in the blank.

“I’m fucking straight,” Eddie muttered, looking away and taking another long drink from his beer.

“Then why–” Gareth wasn’t going to get a word in edgewise and anyone who came to talk to Eddie when he was in a mood like this knew that coming in.

“I don’t fucking know!” Eddie grumbled, crossing his other arm over his chest and slouching all the way down in his seat so only his neck was being supported by the back of the chair.

Gareth frowned at him and looked away, no doubt wondering what he should say to all of that. It gave Eddie a moment to calm down and he eventually sat back up.

“I just…” he muttered, speaking into his drink, “I don’t know; it’d be easy if he was a girl. I just wish he was a girl.”

“Eddie…” Gareth mumbled a bit incredulously as he pinched his brows in. His expression was pitying and Eddie hated that it looked like he felt sorry for him. That was annoying and he scowled before looking away.

Eddie’s logic was sound, it didn’t make sense why Gareth would be questioning it. Things would be easier if Steve was just a girl, that way if he had kissed him it wouldn’t be a big deal. Just an oops, sorry, that was uncool, well, anyways, and then they’d move on. He wouldn’t have to be dealing with this crisis of conscience and saying that he was just joking around wouldn’t have blown up in his face–maybe, he wasn’t sure. If Steve was a girl saying that he was joking actually might have blown up in his face more now that he was thinking about it… probably wasn’t cool to yank a girl’s chain like that.

“We were high and I don’t know, I wanted to talk to him about it being fine that he’s gay or whatever and I wasn’t thinking at all and I just…” Eddie sighed heavily and chugged the remainder of his beer. He twisted the pull-tab off and flicked it across the room, aiming for the bin and missing.

“You always want to kiss people when you’re high?” Gareth asked an edge of humour to his voice. He was teasing lightly, but Eddie didn’t have the patience for that kind of crap right now.

“Fuck no,” Eddie grouched, crossing his arms and resuming his earlier position where one of his legs was up and he was slouched into the corner of the seat. “I wouldn’t kiss your ugly mug for money.”

Gareth snorted lightly and took a swig of his beer, letting the moment simmer.

“So…” he continued, glancing at Eddie before looking away sharply, “he get mad or something?”

Eddie groaned as he covered his eyes with the side of his hand, cupping his forehead as he tipped his head back. Why had he brought this up? He didn’t want to talk about this. It had been eating his insides alive, but he didn’t actually want to talk about it. What was Gareth going to do? Tell him the magic words to make Steve like him again?

“I told him I was joking,” Eddie mumbled, “and that I didn’t mean it–I even apologized, and I don’t fucking apologize to anyone.”

“Tell me about it,” Gareth muttered under his breath and Eddie hucked his empty beer can at his head, forcing Gareth to duck.

“Jesus–” he half laughed, the can knocking against him harmlessly and clattering to the ground, “just saying.”

Eddie flicked him off and motioned to get up. He didn’t need to be here for this, he didn’t want to be around people. This sucked. He could tell that Gareth was trying to be helpful–trying to be a friend–but he didn’t have the patience for it and he didn’t want to have another fight with another friend over something stupid.

Eddie stuck his hands in his pockets and shuffled over to Gareth before picking up the empty can and chucking it into the garbage. He wasn’t about to leave trash in Jeff’s garage, his parents let them practice there and store their gear most of the time and Eddie wasn’t going to burn this location.

“Say bye to Jeff for me,” Eddie muttered, grouching out of the garage, “and thanks for the food.”

“You going home?” Gareth asked, leaning over the side of his chair to watch Eddie.

“No, this is an illusion,” Eddie mocked, turning and waving his hand in front of his face and giving a manic smile, “the Eddie you know died a long time ago.”

Gareth half laughed, but his brows pinched in at the same time. Eddie didn’t stick around to see if that meant he wanted to say something. He just continued to walk away, turning and hunching his shoulders as he walked past energetic little kids chasing one another and people starting to pack up their dishware. He didn’t feel like unpacking what he had told Gareth or why stating that he had died twisted his guts up into knots. He also didn’t like that he could tell that his upset wasn’t due to the fact that he was lying, but rather that it felt too close to the truth.

Eddie lit a cigarette and started the long walk home. He lost the last of the dusk light halfway through his walk, already two cigarettes down as he got closer to Cherry Street. He wanted to say he ended up there by accident, but that would have been a lie. He walked this way often, actually, and it had been convenient once upon a time. Steve lived on Cherry Street… and Cherry Street backed up onto the forest that connected to the trailer park. A funny coincidence, he had said once to Steve, makes it easier to bother you. That was all too true now though. He was more than a bother.

Eddie stood looming at the end of the street as he stared off towards Steve’s house, the large, stark white structure easy to spot even in the dark. The lawn was lit up by small pot lights and the street lamp across the road shone brightly down onto the sidewalk. Eddie was out of view of any of the windows from his vantage, but he could see the side of the garage and the front of Steve’s house still.

He grumbled miserably and flicked the butt of his cigarette, not bothering to stamp it out before rerouting and taking the long way home. He didn’t want to walk past Steve’s place and risk seeing him, he didn’t know what he’d say if he saw him… he still didn’t really know what had happened. The whole thing felt jumbled in his mind and then crystal clear all at once. He could remember everything so vividly, but it was as if they had been speaking a foreign language to each other: none of it made sense.

Why did he kiss Steve?

Why had that led to Steve getting so angry he nearly got hit?

Why was he such a jackass that seemed to ruin any good thing that happened to him?

It was pitch black by the time Eddie made it home, but he knew the route well enough. The trailer park didn’t have any lights other than the rinky-dink porch lights that some of the homesteads had. It wasn’t that late, but things got dark this far away from town. He came home late like this all the time though, so it wasn’t a surprise when the flyscreen slapped open and Wayne was lounging on the couch. Wayne wasn’t working right now, which was a problem, but they had a small nest egg from the government to live off of for at least a few more weeks. It was amazing how far you could stretch a dollar when you’d been doing it for 20 years.

“That you, Eddie?” Wayne asked, sparing a glance towards the door as a commercial popped onto the screen.

“Yeah…” Eddie mumbled, standing by the front door with his hands in his pockets still. He was looking at the ground, and Eddie wasn’t sure why he felt paralyzed. He didn’t want to move, but he didn’t want to be standing there either… stuck in some kind of limbo.

“You’re home early,” Wayne commented, his tone sounding cautious as if he wasn’t sure if a conversation was going to come out of this, “everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Eddie answered, again, not really sure what he was expecting.

Silence drew out between them as Eddie shifted from foot to foot, just wanting to… be around someone. He wasn’t sure if that was right, but he wanted to be invited in or something. He selfishly wanted to be comforted even though he was the problem.

“What’re you watching?” He mumbled, still not looking at Wayne.

“Mash,” Wayne answered easily, “reruns.”

Eddie nodded and sniffed, feeling like a stranger in his own home. Though he supposed that wasn’t right, this was Wayne’s home, he was a guest. He was a guest that had worn out his invitation by years and years. The deal had been until he graduated, but he still hadn’t done that and it was starting to feel like an impossibility. He didn’t want to be a burden though and he knew that getting a job was the next best thing… but he hadn’t been able to force himself to do that yet either.

Slowly, Eddie shuffled over to the couch and sat down a cushion width away from his uncle, looking up at the TV. The commercials were ending and Eddie felt his throat tighten as he tried to push himself into small talk.

“Is it a good episode?” He asked, having seen most of MASH living here with Wayne. He liked the show, and Eddie could understand why. All the characters questioned why they were at war and the ethics of it all. Made sense for someone like Wayne to get some kind of catharsis from the show after coming home from ‘Nam all those years ago.

“It’s the one where Hawkeye tries to get ribs sent from Chicago to Korea,” Wayne explained, sipping the drink he had in his hand and looking back at the TV.

Eddie snorted slightly, remembering the episode. He toed his shoes off and tucked up onto the couch so he could rest his chin on his knees, the room falling into silence except for the murmur of the TV and the tell-tale M*A*S*H song in the background. It was easy to watch and Eddie stared at the grainy images on the screen as Wayne and him shared the living room. He always liked that he could be quiet with Wayne, but it felt a bit forced on his part tonight.

A commercial broke up the episode and Eddie sighed, not looking at Wayne as he tipped his head to the side before chewing his lip and finally speaking.

“You ever… had a fight with a friend?” Eddie asked quietly, not liking the sound of his own voice right now. It was quiet for a beat before Wayne responded, his tone calm.

“Sure,” he said easily, obviously waiting for Eddie to continue, “you… have a fight with the band?”

“Steve,” Eddie mumbled, shaking his head no to Wayne’s assumption as he picked off the black polish on his nails.

“What did you do… to fix it?” Eddie asked, still not looking up.

“Apologized… talked, bought them a beer,” Wayne offered loosely, “depends on what the fight was about.”

Eddie nodded solemnly, not liking that there wasn’t some magic answer to his query. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he didn’t feel like elaborating his problem either. So he just nodded and picked at his nails, waffling for a long time before more words tumbled out of him.

“Do you think… people just… dislike me?” Eddie asked, his lip quivering a bit before he got control of it, swallowing hard to hide his emotions. Wayne didn’t say anything right away which forced a bitter laugh from Eddie’s lungs.

“Like, I’m difficult, I know it, people don’t like difficult but sometimes…” Eddie smiled sadly as he held back his emotions, hiding his face between his knees again, “something even when I’m around people that are… like me, I’m just… different.”

Eddie didn’t like the words that were slipping out of him, why he felt like this was related to what had happened with Steve, or why he was saying it to begin with. He didn’t want to talk about this and he didn’t want to put this on Wayne to think about, that wasn’t fair. Wayne dealt with enough of his bullshit, more than any Uncle should have to, but sometimes Eddie couldn’t help that his uncle felt like the only safe person to talk to.

“It feels like it’s just so easy for me to–” he laughed quietly again, having a harder time holding back the wavering tone of his voice, “--to just–fuck things up with people.”

His body betrayed him and Eddie felt tears slipping down his face and he rushed to push them away so they wouldn’t be seen, still shielded by his knees as he hunched like a gargoyle.

“Eddie–” Wayne started, too much sympathy in his voice.

“Sorry,” Eddie muttered, trying to put levity into his tone, “I know you don’t like it when I drop the f-bomb.”

That was partly true, but Eddie also knew that Wayne didn’t care that much. They swore all the time, he just didn’t like being sworn at.

Wayne went quiet for a moment and Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get rid of any lingering tears that might be holed up in there.

“What’s going on, boy?” Wayne asked, his voice incredibly gentle.

Eddie felt his bottom lip bunch up, hating that any time Wayne sounded like that Eddie was doomed to start breaking down. It was like a superpower or something–he didn’t know, but Wayne had made him cry dozens of times when he felt on the verge of tears. He always felt selfish seeking out comfort from his uncle when he had already saddled him with so many problems.

“I hate people–” Eddie blubbered, not sure if that was what he really wanted to say but that felt like the strongest phrasing he could find to describe how he felt. He felt so small and so selfish, reverting back to some kind of scared kid who didn’t know how to deal with his own emotions.

Eddie finally looked up, his face wet and his chest tight, and he crawled across the seat cushioned and collapsed onto his side, pressing his face into Wayne’s thigh. He was so pathetic… he was twenty years old and he was crying into his uncle's lap? Eddie the demon, the freak, the devil, metal head, satanic worshipper – yeah right.

“Sometimes it feels like–people just–I’m just–-I’m made to be hated,” he blubbered, hiding his face and gasping through his words. He felt miserable and like he wasn’t really saying what he meant, but he didn’t know what he wanted to say or even why he was doing this right now. It was like hundreds of emotions were trying to fight their way out of his chest and he couldn’t do anything about it. He hated it.

Wayne touched the top of his head and Eddie felt himself choke.

Wayne’s touch was gentle and Eddie couldn’t help but sob as he started to stroke the back of his head. It was a subdued affection, but one that Eddie knew was genuine. Wayne wasn’t a man of many words, so sometimes a touch was the best he was going to get. There was a reason why Wayne sometimes felt like the only safe person–even if Eddie still felt like he was a burden to his uncle.

“Everything about me just—” Eddie sobbed, gritting his teeth as he just let his thoughts and feelings freefall from him. “Why am–I—I–why do I like everything people can–can just hate–about me? I don’t like anything normal—I’m just–nothing about me is normal.”

Usually, Eddie was the first one to proclaim that he was different and scream it loudly for people to hear. He’d shout and point and own it and draw all the other weirdos towards him. He was the king of all the freaks, but it felt like he was still an island amongst them. He was always somehow different. Like there was this wall he bumped up against far too easily that would crop up out of nowhere. How he’d say or do something and just fuck everything up in one fell swoop.

Why did he keep giving people new reasons to call him a freak?

“I hate being like this–I hate–I hate that I can’t just–be normal for—for five minutes,” he gasped, feeling that swell of self-hatred rising in his chest, “it’s always my fault–it’s–I’m always… so… difficult. I just—I can’t—...I don’t know why–I don’t—I hate it, I hate it so much.”

He was feeling sorry for himself again and that felt unfair. It didn’t feel like this was something he got to be upset about or something that Wayne or anyone else cared about. It felt unfair to complain to a man who had probably watched dozens of friends die right in front of him during the war; to complain to a man who had taken him in when no one else would and had to bear this kind of responsibility when he hadn’t asked for it. To have a snot-nosed-brat sobbing in his lap because people didn’t like him. But Eddie was nothing if not selfish.

“I’m so tired of being different–I don’t… I don’t want it anymore–why does it matter so much to people? I just–I don’t want it anymore–It’s–like—I know, I know people hate me—everyone in this goddamn town–people–pe—everyone hates me. Wayne–” he was heaving now as he rambled, everything just spilling out of him in these waves of emotions as each ugly sound crashed into the next. “It’s not fair—I don’t—I don’t want to be the freak–I don’t what—I don’t want to be a loser–to be a drop out–I don’t want—I don’t want to like men–”

The last of his confessions slipped out and Eddie felt his body tighten; his throat felt like it was being ripped apart and his lungs couldn’t pull in enough breath to satiate him. It hurt so badly. It hurt and he hated it and he didn’t know why he said it.

Eddie felt Wayne’s pets pause briefly before picking back up again. That more than anything made Eddie feel ashamed. It made his jaw shake and his shoulders tighten. How fear and sorrow rattled around inside of him at the consequences of his words. He didn’t know what saying them would do–he didn’t mean them. He knew he didn’t mean them–he couldn’t have meant them. Those words were a death sentence.

“It’ll be alright,” Wayne mumbled, the words not sounding as hollow as Eddie thought they would, “I like you plenty.”

Eddie tucked in at the compliment, feeling weak and small as his sobs quieted a bit. His tears didn’t stop, but his chest heaves changed into fluttering gasps as he slowly regained his composure.

“Freaks run in the Munson blood,” Wayne continued and Eddie blubbered a small laugh shifting to press into Wayne’s hip. He was such a child, but he couldn’t help but soak in the comfort.

It was quiet again for some time as Eddie’s crying turned into hiccups and then sniffles, the TV quietly rambling in the background. It took a long while for Eddie to calm down, but Wayne never stopped stroking his hair. He felt wrung out and hollow now, his emotions dull and his body aching from how hard he had cried. Still, it did feel better than when he walked in here.

“I kissed him…” Eddie said quietly. He felt Wayne shift to look down at him, a question in his movement.

“Steve,” Eddie explained, mumbling, “I kissed Steve the other week.”

“I see,” Wayne answered back, obvious awkwardness in his delivery. He had never been good at talking about stuff like this–anything really–but it was obvious that he was trying. “And he doesn’t like that you’re a guy?”

Eddie shook his head, and closed his eyes, tucking in closer still as he pressed his forehead against Wayne’s stomach.

“Steve likes guys,” Eddie sighed, breathing heavily as he wrangled his emotions.

“Alright…” Wayne replied slowly, obviously puzzling through everything. Eddie frowned and tucked in again, hiding as he felt shame wash over him.

“I kissed him…” he explained, sniffing, “and then I told him it was a joke, that I didn’t mean it…”

“Ah…” Wayne answered, sighing a knowing breath. “Did you mean it?”

Eddie swallowed thickly, taking a long time to answer as he pressed hard into Wayne as if he could disappear this way.

“I don’t know…” Eddie replied, his voice muffled. Wayne stroked his head again and Eddie breathed deeply through his mouth, feeling bad for crying all over Wayne’s lap.

“Alright,” Wayne answered simply, not pushing the subject at all. He was good at listening and Eddie quietly appreciated that Wayne always seemed to have time to listen to him ramble. Slowly, Eddie sat back up, his back to Wayne as he hugged his knees and rallied.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled, feeling like he had to apologize for the way he had acted.

Wayne just patted his shoulder and Eddie felt a few tears slip down his cheek as if they had been knocked out of him by his uncle’s kindness. He sniffed hard again before getting off the couch and stumbling into the kitchen to splash water into his face and clean off the snot and tears. Eddie lifted the hem of his shirt to dry his face and then leaned against the kitchen counter, going quiet once more.

“Eddie?” Wayne spoke up and Eddie peered over at him through the cabinet shelf, “try telling your friend the truth.”

Eddie frowned at the suggestion, but he didn’t have it in him to be angry. Still, he didn’t think that was a great idea. What was he supposed to say? He wasn’t even sure if he knew what the truth was. How did he feel? Did he like Steve? That felt stupid and the idea made his stomach turn over. What good would a confession do anyway?

“And what’s that?” Eddie asked a bit flippantly, wiping wet strands of hair out of his face.

“That you’re figuring it out and you want to stay friends,” Wayne offered, looking over at Eddie for a moment before turning to look at the TV again.

Eddie stared at the back of his uncle’s head, not sure what to say to that. Was it that simple? It felt like he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone that he didn’t know how he felt about something. That he was unsure and vulnerable and scared—it didn’t feel like things were allowed to be that simple.

He didn’t answer Wayne as the TV flicked from image to image painting the dark little trailer in different colours each time. It felt comforting and Eddie appreciated that his Uncle wasn’t smothering him. He was more grateful that Wayne had just… accepted him. He had accepted him like he always did. He hadn’t said anything when Eddie started to grow his hair out or when he got a tattoo, when he flunked school, and now when he had said… he liked men. It had been a surprise to hear himself say those words and there was still deep-rooted shame attached to all of that, but that felt like something he had to unpack on his own. Still, Wayne’s reaction had been the same as it was for all of Eddie’s past transgressions. He’d quietly support him or sigh with worry, but it never seemed to change anything between them.

Eddie shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and went to the fridge. He pulled out a can of beer and walked it over to his uncle, touching the cold metal to Wayne’s forearm so he’d look up.

“Thanks,” he muttered gruffly, looking at Eddie briefly before redirecting his attention to the TV.

“Yeah,” Eddie replied quietly, wiping his nose and touching his uncle’s shoulder before stepping away, “thanks.”

PT3

#we stan Wayne Munson in this house #Wayne Munson = best uncle #Eddit is dumb cause he spent all of last fic (the week prior to this)#proclaiming that he loved queer ppl cause they were treated like he is #he thinks queer people are cool but now he's like I CAN'T BE QUEER #that's just cause he's scared of what that means and he has to face so many horrors all the time #doesn't like being hated and sometimes the RSD gets to him #the “being straight” thing is like armor that has just been stripped away and he's been shown he can be hurt here too #he'll learn and grow and eventually love his queer-ness #my_writing #steddie #steve and eddie #eddie munson #steddie fic #my writing #wayne munson #I'm bored so take pt2 early

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archangeldyke-all · 3 months

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Hi Angel!

I've been reading your kidfics and if it's okay I'd like to contribute to your little fucker cinematic universe because I have a real story that happened to me when I was tutoring and I think you might like it. 🌸

Little fucker is a clever kid. Sometimes too clever. And the problem is - she can't sit for the life of her. She will stand on her chair, rock it back and forth, run for water and for snacks and for whatever thing she wants to show you, but she will not just sit and do her homework.

Which is fair, she is only 7, but you're not so patient. So you decide it's going to be Sevika's problem now. Part of you hopes that little fucker will be more intimidated of her grumpy mom, but this hope is more of a delusion - you know Sevika is a softie and your daughter knows it as well.

Sevika thinks she got it, she is an adult, what can be hard about 7 year old's homework? Counting apples? Sevika is cocky about the whole ordeal, but you don't say anything, letting her find out by herself.

Sevika gets absolutely humbled when she sees little fucker's homework and gets confused at a math question 10 minutes in. Then she sighs in relief when she remembers she is only supposed to monitor little fucker and only help her if she is confused. Yeah, she can't sit through five minutes of work, but Sevika finds a way in a "waste my time I'll waste your time" deal. Little fucker's time management improves immediately.

One day they're doing homework and little fucker has to write a story, but before that, she needs to write details about her character (teddy bear on her shirt).

"How do you call really smart people?" Little fucker asks with a philosophical frown.

"Geniuses?" Sevika tries, also frowning in an effort to find the right word.

Little fucker looks at her disappointedly and Sevika sweats like she is a first grader in front of a teacher.

"Prodigy? Also a great word." Sevika offers, but the disappointment on your baby's face grows.

"I have no fucking idea, kid." Sevika admits.

Little fucker just flops her arms encouraging Sevika to try.

"Do you mean scientists?"

Another look of extreme disappointment. Sevika starts to feel bad.

Little fucker sighs and taps her pencil on her book, frustrated. Then she looks at Sevika again, still shocked at her lack of intelligence.

"Nerds." She says in mock surprise. "They are called nerds, mom."

Sevika is speechless. Then she snorts and nods, admitting her defeat.

"Okay. You're right." Sevika is kinda proud of her baby's sass and she doesn't even try to hide it.

"I'll use genius though." Little fucker says like an expert and slowly writes down the word.

"Yeah. Don't think your teacher will like it very much if you say your Teddy is a nerd."

Later Sevika asks you the same question.

"How do you call really smart people?"

"Competent?" You try offhandedly as you wash the dishes.

"Well, according to our daughter, they're called nerds."

"This girl, I swear to God." You snort. "It's all your influence."

"Dunno, I married a nerd after all, not you."

this is FUCKING ADORABLE IM SOBBING

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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emo-batboy · 1 year

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Fan pages on Twitter with Bruce are making me think of one thing. Kpop Twitter. Do u think they would be making fancams of him too? Photocards? Posters? Buying 10 copies of vogue just for different cover with him?

*takes off glasses* now I cannot reveal the secrets of my Twitter au BUT you came to the right person :DD

NOW CONSIDER

BRUCE WAYNE AS A FORMER MODEL (idk if this has been done before with Battinson? Let me know so I can read it)

So maybe Bruce did some covers for a business magazine in his late teens or early 20’s and it went really well!!

a few luxury brands asked if this fresh-faced Bruce Wayne would consider being an ambassador. Maybe a brand of watches, suits, sunglasses, something business-like or old money

He agrees to work with some suit company cuz his dad loves the brand and he likes them too now

This earns him his first ever taste of A-List Celeb Status. He is on the cover of magazines, not just business and fashion: Gossip magazines. Tabloids. People recognize him and want his autograph. Paparazzi follow him to lunch dates with friends.

They want to know his favorite color, cereal brand, ice cream flavor, and not because they want to be billionaires like him (poor little nepo baby) but because they love him so much they want to know every little detail of his life.

He is given the title of heartthrob over and over again (and I mean look at him, ofc he is)

He despises it with every cell in his body.

BUT he keeps working for this one luxury tailor brand until his contract ends. Maybe two or three years?

He has a good relationship with them, still. Wears their suits mostly, recommends it to friends if they need a new one. But he’s decided it’s not for him anymore.

Now. Every year, during New York Fashion Week, Bruce is invited to walk in their show. (This brand gives all of their ambassadors the opportunity.) Sometimes, he says yes. Sometimes, he doesn’t.

He refuses for a few years (during his vengeance era) until Bruce Wayne changes and decides to make more appearances. NY Fashion Week comes around, and Bruce returns for one (1) show.

Oh lordie the stans

They arrive in droves

EVERYBODY AND THEIR MOTHER SEES THE CLIP OF BRUCE WAYNE WALKING AT THE FASHION SHOW!!

He tears up that fucking runway! He’s a seasoned veteran of course he does

THE BRAND BEGS BRUCE TO COME BACK

And ya know what?

He says yes

Cuz he wants to be personable, likable, approachable, a role model (no pun intended)

His bitterness is slowly dissipating, and he’s grown stronger after the stress of his early 20’s and the hatred of his late 20’s. He’s an Adult TM who can handle it.

This is when he learns about the new emergence of stan culture :)

The edits are EVERYWHERE

Some are from his new collections and looks

Others are made up of early 2010’s Bruce Wayne

Imagine like those sparkly ones with cute music in the background and it’s just Bruce smiling

(And then there’s the thirst trap ones, you know those one)

Pretty boy billionaire Bruce Wayne and his army of fans could declare a nation. They’re your cousin, your friend, your teacher, your goddamn accountant.

Old posters from Tiger Beat 2009 go up on eBay for thousands of dollars

And those old “vintage” fashion magazines where he’s on the cover, those could cost you rent

Bruce walks some new shows and agrees to pose for some magazines (fashion AND business, among others)

Vogue offers him the cover, which he accepts

They run out of stock.

(How is that even possible?)

Fancams of him walking down the street and attending press conferences crop up? That’s what surprises him the most.

He is still very camera shy but the more he gets to know the regular fansites, he feels more comfortable waving and talking to them. (And hopefully they don’t suspect a thing. PLEASE don’t suspect a thing.)

There are a lot of events where they’re not allowed in but if it’s a public event, they will be there

(There are some creepy ones tho, and Alfred handles them accordingly) (with a call to the police) (and occasionally a hose)

It’s fun tho, allows Brucie Wayne, Billionaire Nepo Baby Extraordinaire, to become separate from his nightly persona

This is how Bruce becomes very familiar with Stan Twitter

But he still refuses to make an account for his own sanity

It’s for the best

#bruce wayne #battinson #batman #the batman 2022 #the batman #batman 2022 #model au #battinson is a model #WHAT IF ya know????#I really wish I could put like 50 photos in this post but I can’t

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justmonty · 26 days

Text

I don’t know if this has already been discussed but some time ago while replaying Cyberpunk 2077 I noticed an interesting detail - how different "relic" So Mi and herself in real time. I'm not talking about physical changes 'cause it's obvious but about behavior and how...mature she looks?

During the missions "You Know My Name" and "Firestarter" we have the opportunity to see two different So Mi almost simultaneously: "relic" So Mi has a more frivolous demeanor and free movements but she's still a damn child - her face is immature, she's literally looks like the same teenager who was recruited by NUSA at 19-20 years old. At the same time, So Mi from the present has a gaze full of experience (mostly negative), regrets and pain. Even if she didn't look half robotic, just by looking at her face I could tell "damn she's probably seen some shit".

And this brings me to the main idea: So Mi, as an adult woman in her early 30s, still acts (and prefers to look) like a teenager because she's stuck in this unclosed period of her life, she had no similar experience before this work (remember all those words from Reed and Alex about how So Mi screws everything up, then solves and screws it up again). Her normal life was taken away, she was threatened in various ways, she was given enormous responsibility for other people and guilt that she was and still is unable to process alone.

As I think now So Mi, in order to regain a part of herself, needs to live through these years (her 20-30s), find a friend who she can trust and who will help her grow up, and then let go of the past.

#imagine V sings “you've got a friend in me” to So Mi #cyberpunk 2077 #song so mi #songbird #songbird cyberpunk #I just love so mi #maybe I lost the main idea #but I needed to write it

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angelicalacrimae · 4 months

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thinking about that scene in kaze to ki no uta where gilbert is just having fun playing tag with some adults, specifically this one girl called sophia/sofia and she's like, treating him so well, and gilbert doesn't have a mother so auguste KNOWS that the poor thing (7 years old) is seeking her attention in replacement for anne marie's neglect, and so he just goes and says "okay fun is over i need you to come here now" and someone (rebec) mentions how gilbert's light "faded" at that very moment.

"that look isn't normal in a child! that's the face of resignation, he's suppressed all his instinct to fight ..."

and then gilbert (who is 7 at the time, it's been 2 years since the abuse started) walks away with auguste.

there's SO much to say starting with the fact that gilbert's attitude is nothing like the one we're shown in the actual timeline (this is from a flashback) and he's, basically, a whole different person in comparison, which fits with the way auguste raised him.

since his purpose was to make a "perfect masterpiece", he had to strip gilbert of who he was from the root, first attacking his "survival instincts", then treating him as if he was incapable of doing anything or learning anything despite the fact that gilbert taught himself to read (at like, 6-7) because he was interested in art, and so on, auguste is just taking away bits and pieces of gilbert to make him what he wants him to be, but he's never clear with what he's demanding of him so gilbert is a mess

the scene also highlights how he flinches at the sight of auguste, and looks nervous when he approaches him and sofia, but when auguste gives his final veredict (that "playtime is over") he just leaves without saying much, because he knows it's pointless, auguste will do anything to drive the people who care about gilbert away even if they will never do anything to stop the abuse. gilbert knows this subconsciously, i doubt he can explain it, but i think there's some level of acknowledgment on his part.

gilbert is not entirely lost at this point though, he's on his way out but he has some of his instincts, he knows that auguste means danger (also shown by their first meeting, gilbert just keeps repeating "danger, he's dangerous, he'll do something to me". this eventually stops as gilbert realizes auguste is the only person around him who "cares" -it stops after their encounter, the one right after bonnard kidnaps him- and instead of pushing him away, he starts to want to be around him more, the evident fear is no longer there, but auguste still haunts his decisions and the way he interacts with others -serge-)

now, remember rebec???? he knows about the abuse, he's definitely worried about the impact it has on gilbert, but he never does anything to stop it because auguste is a close friend of his. i won't go into detail but. that's realistic!!!! okay ending this point to add:

i think the way gilbert was written and described is really good, and as much as i HATE auguste he's also pretty well written too in a weird way. he has many flaws, but he's a perfect "villain" for this i think.

think of humbert humbert from lolita as a base, both of them use flowery language to make their acts sound less terrible (auguste constantly describes his acts towards gilbert as art, as "necessary for his development", as something that's right despite it not being so)

see 41:50 - 43:40

(it's not really evident in this scene i think? but you can see the way he speaks about it, he makes it sound as if it was something necessary, as if it was something that gilbert will benefit from even though it's just abuse)

gilbert IS a different person than he was years ago, and the only person to blame is auguste, that one scene i mentioned at the beginning is just a transition period between point A (rejection, fear, gilbert doesn't want to indulge in this) and point B (acceptance, he's actively seeking it even if he hates it)

gilbert has never wanted to do this, all he wanted was to be held by someone because everyone around him neglected that need, as serge said once: "he was starved (of love) and i could provide him with that"

but, eventually, he learned to suppress that need and, as the world changed his view on him (hypersexual behaviors that were previously encouraged are now seen as strange and gross, gilbert doesn't understand why the change) gilbert just had to go with it, accepting that he would always be seen as someone bad no matter what, he thinks he's broken in some way, that he will corrupt others if they dare to help him, which i think it's a key point to understand if you want to understand why he acts the way he does towards serge:

"doesn't he hate it? if he does, why is he pushing serge (the only person who ACTUALLY helps him) away?"

because he doesn't THINK he deserves it, he thinks he's going to corrupt serge if he does, everyone thinks that, everyone stays in their lane, no one has ever done anything to stop it and when they tried they were pushed away by auguste, and gilbert wanted auguste's approval! he wants him to like him! so he continues, and the cycle never ends ...

#gilbert cocteau #auguste beau #kaze to ki no uta #風と木の詩 #serge battour #gilbertology

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joshslater · 2 years

Text

A Star is Born

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

"It's not just porn. The adult industry is much more than that. Unlike Hollywood there is room for more narrow interests, and more diversity in actors. Obviously the revenue per title is smaller, but the production overhead is too, so you could still get some decent cash."

I had changed to my sincere voice, somewhat undercut by the venue and the thumping music in the nightclub, but otherwise I had stacked everything I could against him.

"I don't know, man." He was still unconvinced, but I knew now it was self-doubt, not stigma that held him back. He didn't think he had neither the looks nor the body.

"You're exactly what I need. You don't even have to be naked. $200 for a few minutes of dry humping. Then we can see what the response is."

He sat silent, nodding slightly to the music and making up his mind. "What would your mates say?" I asked, already knowing the answer. In his friend circle he would move up in rank, being seen as desirable and virile.

"Ok, I'll do it."

The first shoot I keep very much on his terms. We have a large couple of warehouses in the old paint factory that closed where we can fit a lot of different sets, though you can't use two sets near each other due to the noise. I made sure the studio was empty by the time he arrived to avoid any second thoughts. I let him use his own clothes for the same reason. We go to the "boy room" set and I hand him a baseball bat. "Just walk in through the door, pick up the bat, put it between your legs, and grind on it for a bit. Just pretend it's the best fucking experience you've ever had."

I take the camera and he awkwardly follows my instructions. It's very stiff up until the bat is between his legs, when suddenly his whole performance changes. He slowly teases the bat in and out, polishes the base of the handle with one hand, keeps the bat in place with both legs and moves his hands like his jacking off a huge wooden dick, rhythmically buckles his whole body while riding that bat, in and out, while his ever louder moans turn into an uncontrolled scream of pleasure as he comes in his jeans.

He's trapped.

He's looking confused, shocked almost, as I wrap up the shoot. He's barely listening to what I tell him about publishing dates and payment details, as he is walking behind me toward the exit with a dazed look on his face. He just can't believe what he had just done. Not the recording of erotic content for the internet, well only partially, but mostly that he would be so good at it. He'd bragged of course to his group of mates what a stud he was, like they all did, but any of the girls he'd slept with would rate him "fine" at best, and he knew that. But here he had been like possessed by a gogo dancer.

There isn't any visible cum stain on his jeans yet when I take the bat from him and tell him goodbye. It will probably not soak through at all, but it will be on his mind all the way home. There will be a lingering feeling of unease, pride, confusion, and horniness that he can't shake over the following days. He'll have boners more often than even as a teen, and jack off multiple times a day. Every time with a big release and trembling orgasm. He might hook up with some of the girls he knows to relieve his constant horniness, and find that he is a much better lover than he used to be, but can't last very long. Most importantly it will only give him a very short-lived relief.

By the time I call him a week or so later he's desperate to film. I ask him to come in later that afternoon, making him disrupt whatever else he has already planned. He shows up right on time though, slightly out of breath, and with a visible bulge in his jeans. This time there are a few people around in the studio. A painter is finishing up the new frat room set, dirtying the area around a light switch with a paint-dipped sponge as we walk by. Once we carefully pass by the "boy room" set a pair of twinks are fucking on the bed surrounded by a cameraman, a boom boy, and the director. He's torn between his old impulse to look away in modesty and his new one to see as much as possible. He doesn't slow down, but he is taking in everything.

I lead him to our private gym. It doubles as a movie set, but all the equipment there is legit and used by all the talent in between shoots. "The guy on top is Xander XeXy," I tell him.

"What?" He looks confused.

"The guy you watched in the room I filmed you in. He's been trending a lot." I can see reality intruding. He realizes this is a business with porn actors doing porny things, seen by the public. "Oh. OK."

He doesn't follow up so I move on to our business at hand. I hand him his next outfit, a maroon sweatshirt, grey gym shorts, white crew socks, and a pair of Nike sneakers with orange details. No underwear. The sweatshirt has a yellow sigil printed on the front looking like any college emblem, unless you read the "Professional Porn Actor" around the rim of the sigil. At first he looks a bit lost, like he's wondering where he'd change outfit, until he realizes we just walked past two naked men fucking.

He gets naked and his dick stands attention as soon as it's out of his briefs. He doesn't look at me, awkward about being alone with a man, naked and with a boner, for the first time in his life. The moment he lets go of the grey sweatpant shorts, the tent his erect dick made collapses and the dick hangs down one of the shorts legs. It's the same size as when it was erect though.

I pick up the camera and start shooting, directing him to get onto the treadmill and start running. His sloppy dick isn't really visible through the thick shorts fabric, but you can see from the movement that it's swinging inside. After that warmup I continue to direct him on what equipment to use, what exercises to do, and with what configuration. Light weights, many repetitions. I however ask him to repeat the sets several times to give me multiple camera angles to cut between. At least that's what I tell him. Then when he is all damp and flush after the thorough session I tell him to start over from the beginning and do all of them once more. This is the only usable footage, because otherwise it would be obvious how much he's changed in just two hours.

He looks about the same on the treadmill, though way more athletic, an inch wider shoulders and a few inches shorter, with his dick flopping around. Then it starts getting interesting. During squats we can see a tent forming, and by the time we're recording bench presses there is a very noticeable straining of fabric going on. Much bigger than was going on before, though perhaps unsurprising given the size of his now much larger flaccid dick.

We move to the locker room set and I have him stretch a bit, feeling himself up after the workout, before sitting down and cool for a bit. Then on the bench he starts to tease out his rock-hard dick from his shorts. He takes the balls out too and just stares at them for a bit. I'm still recording of course, but I haven't told him to do this. He doesn't know why he did it. "It's what would happen in a porno, and we're recording one," is how he rationalizes it for himself. At the same time he wonders why he did it unprompted. Deeper yet he is confused about how his dick is suddenly way larger than when he stepped out of his jeans just hours ago.

He grabs it, leans back against the lockers, and begins to stroke himself. It is already slippery from sweat and pre, and makes a wet noise as he lets his hand move up and down the shaft. As the shoot before he begins to moan loudly, and goes on for a good 5 minutes until he erupts in shot after shot of cum landing on his sweatshirt and his shorts. As before he is looking shocked and confused as I wrap up the shoot and he finds himself on a porn set, drenched in sweat, and with several ropes of cum on his clothes.

He slowly puts his deflating dick back into the shorts while I come to the rescue with a towel to clean up the worst of the cum. I tell him it was great, that he's a real natural, while I nudge him to his feet and walk him back out through the studio. I tell him he should consider doing workouts regularly. That he looked great doing them here and people would love watching him doing more. He's still in that post-orgasm glow, but nods politely while looking at the now empty sets to see if he can get another glimpse of any action. At the entrance I hand him a promo card for the Xander XeXy series and thank him once again. He's well out the door before he'll starts to wonder what happened to his old clothes, deciding to pick them up another time.

He'll be hard again before he gets home, and he'll be self-conscious about the big dick being hard to miss as it moves around unrestrained, bouncing against the fabric of the shorts. Then he'll have a few days of uncomfortable discoveries. He's just as horny as before, but instead of constantly orgasming and getting hard again he's lasting much, much longer. He's not interested in getting together with any of the girls he has on speed dial to ease hard dick issues though. Nor does his usual porn appeal to him. Instead he's just lying in bed, pumping himself for an hour or two until he explodes in loud orgasms. Maybe an hour later he starts firming up again.

He's giving excuses to avoid meeting any of his group of friends. The shirts don't fit his broader shoulders anymore and his trousers either don't fit at all, or show a big dick outline. When he does show up for a night out he finds himself distracted, like nothing he used to like about going out interests him anymore. He's introduced to a new girl. "He records some adult videos," his mate says with a wink. "I can see why," she responds, staring at your groin and licking her lips. She just looks so boring to him. It's getting more and more difficult for him to orgasm and he doesn't even see the point of having sex. He feels like a soda bottle, and masturbating or sex is just someone shaking it without opening it.

He's getting a pair of compression shorts to wear under his gym shorts, and a membership to the cheapest gym within reasonable distance. Something about looking great and others watching got stuck in his head. He's following the same routine as in the shoot, and really putting in an effort. To his surprise he can see some of the other men glancing his way. He likes it. If only they knew how hard he was while they were watching him, he's thinking. Perhaps they too were hard watching him. Suddenly his fantasy is pushing him to the edge and he is overcome with the desire to finish. He runs to the locker room and find the most private place he can, though nothing is truly private there, and starts working his big dick. It's not unlike the latest scene he recorded, but this time there are people within earshot hearing him moan. He's sure of it. His cum explosion is more under his control this time, so he doesn't look unreasonably untidy, at least not given his previous hard workout. Hardly any visible stains that can't be explained as sweat.

The few people in the locker room behaves as if they didn't hear anything, but he knows they would have to. He blushes as he rushes out and jogs back home, his mind again a jumble of emotions. Back home he strips naked, puts on the "Professional Porn Actor" sweatshirt, loads the Xander XeXy video from the business card URL, and coming again several times over the next few hours.

By the time I call him next time he's into a routine. Workout at the gym every day, a run home, and an hour or two of wanking to Xander videos. It takes longer and longer for him to get off. Physically he's changed further. Dropped perhaps another inch, massively improved muscle definition, and a whole lot of extra chest muscles. Most of all though his body fat has continued to climb down, making his face look much younger and leaner. His friends have mostly given up on him, or at least decided to come back later when he isn't so occupied with his latest obsession.

I call him in the middle of wanking, asking him if he wants a supporting role for the next Xander video. I can almost hear his precum drooling. I tell him that it's a bit of a bad boy on bad boy, so he needs to be outfitted properly. Nothing permanent of course, but it would fit the scene if he got some piercings. Doesn't have to be anything crazy, but perhaps a ring in each ear and studs through the nipples. I could of course just do it myself, but I want him to find a place, book a time, feel the procedure, and then anticipate the shoot for a few days.

He shows up on time, hard and horny. He hasn't been able to come for the past few days. He's wearing his new golden earrings, the porn actor sweatshirt, but compression shorts and blue jeans. Xander is already there, shaking his hand and greeting him by name. It always makes such a big impact when the guy you've been masturbating to for two weeks is just as stunning in real life, and knows your name. I quickly move along to our garage set, with a shutter door to the outside, to snap him out of his daze a bit. Partly to be professional, but party to not make him too comfortable with Xander yet. Just before the garage I have them strip and put on the dirt bike kit I've laid out for them. Thick polyester pants, slinky polyester shirts, boots, gloves, helmets, and goggles. All of it Fox Racing branded.

The glossy material of the shirt hangs off of his sizable chest and you can see a hint of the piercings through the material in certain poses, but his focus on the upper pec muscles makes the nipples point slightly out and down. I've told Xander to keep it cool initially, so there's no talking between them. For this shoot I've also gotten a boom boy and a cameraman, so I'm free to only direct.

First I have them mount the dirt bikes, some cheap 125cc ones we got that look aggressive with lots of open space, black mechanical parts, and the rest in striking green for one and blue for the other. Then they ride out a bit, turn around, and we start rolling. They ride into the garage, kill the motors, and dismount. Then they do a bit of teasing each other, while they remove more and more gear. Googles, gloves, helmet, shirt.

He's too into looking Xander's naked chest up and down to notice he is hairless and bronzed. They play a bit until Xander pushes him onto the flatbed with rugs and crap on it. I cut and before we continue with the sex part we need to set up the fixed cameras we cut between. With Xander on break and the rest of the crew rigging I walk up to him and tell him he was great. Then I push him every so slightly on the abdomen and a small amount of oil leaks out of his pores, covering him with a glistening sheen that makes the muscles pop in the light. It'll lock him into that greasy twink look we've been looking for.

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froggydoodles · 11 months

Text

My thoughts about the Ruby Gillman Teenage Kraken movie and the Chelsea controversy

I have to remind you all before i start that my writing skills are very limited due to my weak English so in advance i apologize for any grammar errors in my sentence. I tried to explain things as much as i can while keeping my sentences simple. Also i had to use some major spoilers to make a clear explanation of some parts so if you haven't seen the movie yet don't read it.

Okay, first i start with the movie in general. The voice acting was perfect, everyone did their job flawlessly and bring these characters to life along with the beautiful animation. Its music choices were really good and fit the scenes, i liked them a lot. I really liked how simple yet cute the character designs in most of the characters, especially Ruby's design was so adorable. I liked the character interactions too, especially Ruby and Chelsea's parts were so fun to watch. I liked both the disguised and full Kraken looks of the characters. Chelsea's design was so beautiful, Dreamworks really made one of the best looking villains ever. The colors and animation were so beautiful, i'm honestly surprised how they pull something like this with such a small budget compared to other animated movies. I like how they left things open at the end to imply there are still more stories to tell such as facing other threats and expanding Ruby and Chelsea's complicated relationship. I can sincerely say that crew who worked on this film did their best. The movie story was quite simple but still fun to watch. Now for the things i'm gonna critique.

The writing of the film can get a bit generic and cliche at some times but it still makes up with its likable characters, animation, and voice acting. The movie felt a bit too fast at the beginning like things were happening too fast back to back without giving enough space to process but it eventually back to a normal speed and became more enjoyable. I wish we could get a bit more lore about past enemies of Krakens but i understand that it was an introduction for any possible sequel or series. I'd like to see at least more than one mermaid and how Chelsea would interact with them as their queen but it's okay. I can't really find anything else to critique, overall it was a pretty nice movie. Not over the top, simple yet fun.

My heart gives this movie 10/10

My logic gives this movie 8/10

Now it's time to talk about the Ruby and Chelsea situation to clear things up cause i already see people talking and spreading misinformation about it. So, after watching the movie people thought there is a huge age gap between Ruby and Chelsea and the answer to that is technically yes but actually no, let me explain. First of all some people who watch the movie say Chelsea is at least old as Ruby's mom which is a piece of wrong information, they never revealed Chelsea's actual age in the movie. The second piece of wrong information is some people think Chelsea is a full shapeshifter like she could choose to look as young or old as she likes which is not true. During the movie we saw only two forms of her ( i say two forms because her small mermaid and human forms are almost the same except mermaid tail part), one small mermaid/human and one giant mermaid. Even after defeat, she went back to her old small mermaid form instead of a different one. After defeat everyone already knew who she is so there was no need to look like a teenager anymore but she still went back to her teenager look which shows that she can't change her looks randomly. She takes the look she originally has inside. The last piece of wrong information is thinking of Chelsea as an adult because she fought in a war with Ruby's mom. This is the tricky part that almost everyone misinterprets and i totally understand you all for it. I couldn't get it in my first watch and i was as confused as most of you all but after watching it two more times i gathered all the little details and understood everything. The biggest reason people mistake Chelsea for an adult is they think her age is like a human. She said herself that mermaid does not age well. She is almost like Mavis from Hotel Transylvania. Mavis was 118 years old canonically in first movie but her mental and physical age was 18. Same case here for Chelsea. No matter how old she is in numbers during the movie she was still mentally and physically a teenager. That also explains why Agatha and Grandmama couldn't defeat her now cause Agata and Grandmama got older in years while Chelsea remained to have her youth. Even after defeat and revealing who she really is and there was no need of acting anymore, Chelsea was still acting like a teenager further proving that it wasn't just an act and she is in fact a teenager in her mermaid years. Oh there is one more thing want to point out but this one is about Krakens. They do seem age similar to humans at some point but they most likely live a lot longer than humans does as Grandmama seem to be in all the past wars for ruling the ocean but still doesn't look extremely old. Also during the movie Uncle Brill once asked for permission to stay with Gillmans for 100 years which proves that Krakens does live a lot longer than humans since 100 years doesn't seem so much for them. Also in that logic, Ruby inevitably gonna outlive Connor so eventually, he'll look a lot older than Ruby.

That's all i wanted to say, if you are still not convinced and still feel uncomfortable about seeing Ruby and Chelsea ship content i totally respect your decision but i need to ask you to block me so you don't have to see my future posts about them cause i'll be still drawing ship doodles of them. Thank you for taking the time to read my post, if you liked what you read please spread the word so more people can see it.

#ruby gillman teenage kraken #teenage kraken #spoiler #spoilers #review #ruby gillman #chelsea van der zee

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anonymouspuzzler · 1 year

Text

HEY, IT'S A FREAKING ENORMOUS SMILE FOR ME FANCOMIC!! there is a very real chance that if you're new from twitter following me here, you followed me for this!! I don't blame you!! I'm real dang proud of this and it was a true labor of love!!! I have more like this I would like to draw soon, too...

(full transcript slash detailed image descriptions under the cut!)

PAGE 1 The comic title, COOKING, is written at the top of the page in big handwritten bubble-letters colored in pale peach.

Panel one shows Kamal, wearing a brown-and-red striped turtleneck sweater, standing next to Habit, wearing a fluffy teal-blue sweater over a pink button-up and blue jeans. Kamal is lightly grimacing, looking mildly embarrassed and rubbing his right arm with his left hand, while Habit stands with his hands on his hips and a big grin. Kamal: So, um, something that we only realized after we started living together... ...turns out neither of us can cook. Like. At all. Habit (in misspelled Habitspeak): I can make "spaghetti" (smiley face) Kamal: Yeah that barely counts. (in smaller text) I guess I can't talk, though... I was living off Chinese takeout and hot dogs...

Panel two shows Habit on the left, smiling warmly and holding up Putunia with both hands, who is grinning and holding both fists in the air triumphantly. Kamal is on the bottom right of the panel, shrugging. Habit (in misspelled Habitspeak): But now we have "Putunia"!! Putunia (shouting): THAT'S ME!!! Kamal: So, uh, we had to figure out the whole "cooking" thing. 'Cause we're the adults here or whatever...?

The third panel is marked with a big handwritten caption of "SO THEY LEARNED TO COOK". Below that, Kamal, left, and Habit, right, are standing wearing frilly aprons - Kamal's yellow with pink-and-red trim and a heart on the chest; Habit's light green with dark green trim and flowers on the chest. Habit is also still holding Putunia in one arm, while the other hand gives a thumbs up. Putunia is smiling with her limbs dangling limply like a kitten. Kamal (in small font): How did you just... have these ready...?

PAGE 2 In the large top panel, Kamal, still wearing the apron, is smiling, wearing red oven mitts with yellow flowers, and holding a blue plate with freshly-cooked samosas that are emitting a cloud of steam. Kamal: I, um, actually ended up calling my mom for advice, and she's been teaching me all her old recipes? I didn't really appreciate her cooking growing up - you know, you're a dumb kid and you just want pizza 'cause all your friends are getting pizza... But now... I dunno, it makes me feel closer to her. Feels like I'm carryin' on something important. And there's something real nice about getting to share a family recipe with people I lo- CARE ABOUT.

The second panel shows Habit leaning in from the right, smiling slightly mischievously and clutching his hands near his face. Putunia is also bursting in from the bottom right, smiling and throwing her fists in the air. Kamal is visibly flustered, sweating and yelling, jostling the plate of samosas. Habit (in misspelled Habitspeak): I still need to meet your mom!! Kamal (yelling): I- I told you, I'm not ready for that yet!! (in smaller text) Ugh, she keeps bugging me about coming over to meet you two... Putunia (yelling): I WANNA MEET KAMAL-MOM!! KA-MOM!!!!!

PAGE 3 The large top panel shows Habit in his apron, smiling, holding up a wooden spoon in his left hand and a wooden fork in his left. Habit (in misspelled Habitspeak): I've been learning to do "new things" with my favorite foods!!! (smiley face) "Homemade sauce"!! "Black bean burger"!! "Crabo"- "Crabounara"- "Cbabao"- "Ca"- Fancy spaghetti.

The second panel shows him in the same pose and expression, but now pointing upwards with his left hand. Habit (in misspelled Habitspeak): Also!!! I

The next panel abruptly cuts to a nervous-looking shadow-Habit, with an equally-nervous looking Kamal (no longer wearing the apron) peeking in from the right side of hte frame. Habit: um

PAGE 4 The large top panel shows Habit smiling nervously, looking more subdued than normal, lightly scratching his chin with his right pointer finger. Kamal, smiling proudly, is hugging onto his left arm. Habit (with a normal speech pattern): I... so, for a long time, I didn't even want to look at food from... where I grew up. Too many bad associations for me, yes? But, now that I'm in a better place, I'm trying to reconnect in ways that feel safe for me. Food has been a nice way to do that. Lets me build new memories to replace bad ones. Kamal: Proud of ya, big guy

The next panel shows Habit back to his usual bubbly self, smiling, wearing the flower-patterned oven-mitts and holding up a plate with a Medovik cake (a type of Russian honey cake) topped with berries. IN the background, Kamal and Putunia both stare at the cake, Kamal visibly drooling, Putunia with stars in her eyes. Habit (in misspelled Habitspeak): The baking is "ESPECIALLY GOOD"!!! Today I made "Медови́к" ("Medovik" in Russian script)!!! Kamal (in small text): it looks so good... Putunia (in small text): CAKE!!!!!!

The final panel cuts to Kamal drawn from the chest-up, looking slightly sheepish and scratching his chin. Kamal: Um, so that's the other thing we've discovered through all this. It turns out, uh...

PAGE 5 The top panel shows Kamal (left), Putunia (center), and Habit (right) all sitting at a table with a yellow-and-red checkered tablecloth, eating the Medovik cake. Kamal, with a sheepish expression, is leaning forward with his elbows on the table, right arm resting down and left raising a fork to his mouth, with a plate with a slice of cake to his right. Putunia is pumping her right fist and raising the left, holding a fork with some cake on it, into the air triumphantly, shouting with delight. Habit is resting his head in his hands with both elbows on the table, looking delighted, a slice of cake and a fork to his left. The cake itself, with a cake-serving knife to the left side, is in the center of the table. Kamal: ...we... all have a giant sweet tooth... (in smaller text) Oh my god I feel like such a hypocrite... Putunia (in small text): YUMMY!!!!!! Habit (in small text; misspelled Habitspeak): Isn't it?? Isn't it??

The next two panels cut in close on Kamal and Habit, from roughly the chest-up, as they both eat. Kamal is chewing with a guilty expression, holding his fork near his chest, while Kamal is smiling and lifting a bite of cake to his mouth with a fork held delicately in his right hand. Kamal: How did this happen?? We are literally both dentists?? Habit (in misspelled Habitspeak): "You" are. "I" don't have to worry about that anymore

The next panel shows Kamal grimacing, gesturing with his fork, while Habit chews with a smug grin. Kamal: Yeah, not how that works. Habit (in misspelled Habitspeak): Plus I brush my teeth 4 to 60 times per day so they are "perfect" Kamal: Also not how that works. (in smaller text) Please talk to your therapist about that I worry about you

The next panel cuts to Putunia, on the right, shoving her empty plate towards Kamal with a determined expression. Kamal stares back with one eyebrow raised. Putunia (shouting): I WANT MORE CAKE!!! Kamal: Uh huh. And what do we say about that? Putunia (shouting): MORE CAKE PLEASE??

The final panel shows Kamal, on the left, slicing into the cake, while Putunia to the right watches with a smile and her plate held up. Habit comes up behind her, also holding out his empty plate and watching with a smile. Habit (in misspelled Habitspeak): Kamal me too Kamal (smiley face) Kamal: Well, if you're both having seconds...

PAGE 6 The final page has a full-page panel illustration. Kamal, grimacing with his hands on his hips, is looking down at a messy sink full of dirty cooking implements. Behind him, Habit, scratching his chin, looks away sheepishly while Putunia to his right cheers, hands in the air. Kamal: Okay, now which of us is gonna be the adult who does the dishes Habit: not it Putunia (shouting): NOT IT!!! Kamal: oh my god

#smile for me #kamal bora #boris habit #habismal #putunia mollar #anonymous puzzler art #this is the longest comic I've drawn in a LONG while and i am EXTREMELY proud of it!!! i would like to do more soon!!!#i want to make medovik so bad now.#long post

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leahsflwer · 8 months

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Would be be all good to request a Thorne Jamison

Imagine? Preferably a smut or whatever you like 💋💋💋

Stay healthy and rest very well! Otherwise The Dark Vicar will have you on your knees, PRAYING~!

Hugs and kisses!~ ;)😋☺😏😯😳🦁🐺🐥🐥❤

Thorne Jamison smut imagine - “Looks like we’re stuck Dollface”

Warnings: smut! Adult content, not for young/innocent people, typical bad boy x nerd, oral sex, neck kisses, blah blah blah

Thorne Jamison x fem!reader

The rain fell down from the grey clouds, students rushing down the college corridors. I myself was in a rush, gripping my books to my chest as I ran down the stairs and past some classrooms, bumping into someone.

“Thorne! fuck sake!” I yelled as I spotted my books and notes all over the floor covered in paint, my brown cardigan covered with the blue liquid

“Shit sorry” he chuckled.

We both turned our heads to see one of his mates run over with a panicked expression. Thorne seemed to understand him and grabbed my arm pulling me along inside the storage closet, it made me instantly glare.

“What the hell? Don’t drag me into here” I went to say but was cut off with his hand on my lips.

I stayed silent, hearing a professor yell about, he saved me from getting in trouble. So he wasn’t as bad as I thought, a smile coming to my mouth as he removed his hand. The professor running off to chase a student down the hallway.

“Thank you” I sighed

“No need to thank me, now I’m out of here-“ he went to say but the handle didn’t push down all the way, he stopped and wouldn’t budge, meaning we were stuck in here all alone with the college’s bad boy.

I didn’t want to hear about all the girls and boys even that he’s been with, whether he likes tits or ass, all about his weird lyrics he sings for his band. I didn’t want to hear anything from his mouth. I had a test to study for and yet here I am stuck in a closet with the biggest pervert of them all.

“Oh come on you can’t be serious!” I snapped and tried to move the handle but failed terribly

“Looks like we’re stuck Dollface.” He smirked making me roll my eyes.

He was already annoying me. All though, I didn’t mind the nickname he called me.

The paint was still wet and dripping off my clothes making me grin with an idea. Wiping some of it up with my two fingers and putting it on his cheek. He deserves it.

“What the fuck..” he raised a brow and used both his hands to touch the paint and then cup my face so it was all over my cheeks.

Something popped into my mind as I spotted an old paintbrush on the shelf, just slightly lit up by the light. Grabbing it and using the pain on myself to draw on the wall.

It was something random, like flowers mixed with some sort of tree, it was random but something was missing. Thorne suddenly grabbed the brush from my hand and fixed up some details making it look perfect.

“I didn’t know you could even hold a brush, let alone paint so well” I chuckled

“Hey. I do paint for my band covers and shit thank you very much.” He grinned and threw the brush on the floor.

He was different to what I thought, I wanted to get to know him more, he was attractive after all, not that I’d admit it. So I touched my pants with the paint and walked up, inches away from him and placing my hands on his crotch, smirking up at him.

He let out a low groan at the sudden touch and then smirked, lifting up my chin and leaning in closer. But I backed away and laughed at the hand print on his pants.

But Thorne seemed unbothered by it. He just moved closer to me making me back up until my back touched the cold wall. Gulping as he lifted my chin up again.

“Can I?” He asked me

“C-Can you what..?” I stuttered

“Don’t act innocent doll. You literally grabbed my dick” he laughed

“Wha- well.. yeah.. I suppose..” I replied

“Good girl” He smirked and crashed his lips on mine.

The sensation sent a shiver and spark down my entire body. It felt wrong but oh so good. He felt perfect on my skin. His hands gripping onto my waist. My hands gripping onto his leather jacket.

Before I could even think he moved to my neck, not being shy about leaving marks. My hand exploring down to his pants, fiddling with the zip. Undoing them, gulping as he pulled away his eyes locked on me.

“Can I?” He asked me while holding my skirt

“Y-Yes.” I shyly nodded to him

He smiled and lifted it up, holding onto my underwear and fiddling with the lace, smirking at the sight before he tugged on them and watched as they fell down my thighs and onto the ground.

I felt slightly embarrassed but also confident from his stare and smile at me. I felt appreciated by that stare of his, those eyes piercing through me like a needle.

Thorne kneeled full down and used his hands to spread my legs slightly more and looked up at me as he let his tongue glide up my womanhood. I instantly gripped onto his hair, feeling a moan escape my sweet mouth. I had never felt something this good.

His tongue touching all the perfect moments, my hips bucking forward in pleasure to help him hit all the spots I needed to be touched. It was was good. He was good, I never thought I’d be in this situation but here I was close to my high thanks to the singer Thorne Jamison.

I threw my head back in pleasure as I felt my high come to its peak, realising right there and then. My thighs slightly shaking due to how hard I came. Laughing in return.

My body was begging for more of him until a clicking sound was heard from the door. Thorn quickly got up and fixed up his zip. I put my skirt down and stood up straight feeling very flustered and shy at that current moment.

The door opening to reveal Professor Edward Thatcher, standing there as he took in the sight, shaking his head with a sigh.

“It was you two who put the paint all over the place. I expected better from you.. Oh you’re with Thorne..” he sighed and shook his head at us

“Sir we got stuck in here” Thorne tried to speak up but Edward shook his hand

“No excuses this time Mr. Jamison. Both of you, detention. Meaning you can help me out after classes for a whole month” he smiled and left the area.

I got scared and left the closet fast finding my books on the ground and taking them. But was stopped from Thorne’s voice.

“You forgot these” He smirked showing my panties off the everyone in the hallway.

Blush covering my cheeks immediately as I grabbed them from him and shyly ran away down the college to my dorm and leaning on the closed door, my roommate turning to look at me, instantly grinning at me.

“Don’t even ask!” I yelled and ran into the bathroom dying from embarrassment.

#thorne jamison #Michael sheen #smut #fluff #angst #good omens #preferences #twilight #rock and roll #smut imagine #imagine #Thorne Jamison imagine #Michael sheen imagine

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wisecrackingeric-2 · 7 months

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Luis ramble time

TW//homophobia??

I think my favorite thing about Luis has to be the idea that his religious trauma led him to become homophobic but not in the sense of how it normally is. I think he internalized it as he grew up in a Catholic setting and became more interested in other people. This is why I believe he probably wouldn't have kissed Leon,,he will flirt and make flirty gestures but I don't really believe he'd full on go for it. I think it's more believable that he would've felt guilty because we all know one thing Luis still holds dear is his religion.

To me Luis is bisexual and when he met Leon it made him remember those odd feeling but he was to afraid to express them both from fear of loosing Leon and the feeling of being sinful. (this comes from someone who connects to Luis in these regards,,dw I came to terms with myself awhile ago!) And just like everything else in his life he ran away from it and ultimately..

He never let himself feel those emotions nor tell Leon

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET TO BUT YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW FERAL I WENT OVER THIS I STARTED GOING DOWN SUCH A LONG RABBIT HOLE OUUUUGHHH

BUT YOURE SO RIGHT YOU HAVE A BIT BEAUTIFUL BRAIN IT HURTS SM,,,,,,,, I think you’re absolutely right but I wanted to add my own headcannons too cuz I think it could be a very very interesting discussion!!!!!! I’ve put my thoughts under the cut so it doesn’t clog up peoples dashboards!!!!

I couldn’t agree more I think it’d be pretty safe ro say Luis has a FAIR BIT of internalised homophobia from his religious upbringing (now I wanna clarify that I don’t have any religious trauma like, at all, I wasn’t brought up relifious but I have TONS of friends who’ve gone through it so I’ve done my best to understand it best I can!!!!) and where my headcannon sliiiiiiiightly differs from yours is that I think Luis probably would have come to terms with his own queerness by the time he’s working with Umbrella

Obviously he’s already very flamboyant and VERRRRYYY flirty w both men and women and he’s clearly confident in himself- but what a lot of people seem to forget that the lovely @blveherb and @possessionisamyth have gone into detail about is that Luis is an immigrant, and if you look at literally any piece of history from before like,,,, roughly around the 80’s queer and immigrant history were REALLY intertwined, like, the two communities would often be at the same places or facing the same struggles at the same time etc and obviously white historians haven’t done us any favours with preserving this history (and ALSO also i am WHITE AS ALL HELL so im obviously not in a position to be speaking on topics that i dont fully understand/havent affected me which is why i ask that if anyone is more knowledgable on the topic please do elaborate on it!!!!!!!)((also it’s obviously very very important not to try and take away focus from or erase poc history when talking about queer history!!!!!!!!!!!!!))

So I don’t think it would be much of a stretch to say that Luis, after leaving Valdelobos and ending up wherever he did, would have also discovered the queer community as a whole just by virtue of being apart of a minority (again, this isn’t something that’s ever even remotely effected me so please if I’ve made any mistakes or if anyone wants to point anything out do so!!!!) also I just imagine that, in general, Luis would’ve been grateful for any kind of community to fall back on after he left his own- how old he was when he left is unknown obviously but I can’t imagine being barely even an adult discovering the big wide world for the first time after spending your entire life in a tiny rural catholic village would’ve been easy which is why communities like that are so important (also you could absolutely go into how Umbrella would’ve fed that need for a community even further in a young naive Luis but that’s getting ahead of the subject)

Also somewhat on and off topic but M A A N Y historians have pointed out that Don Quixote is a pretty queer fricken book. That’s an entirely different discussion in and of itself but the whole book itself, the relationship between Alonso and Sancho, the history itself surrounding the book etc can leave a lot of queer interpretations to be read (and @highball66 has pointed out that while not specifically a term used for gay men, in some areas ‘Sancho’ has been used to refer to ‘the other guy in the relationship’, ie the man the husband is sleeping with etc) ((AND also it’s just,, kinda hard to analyse super old books through the lens of the LGBTQ+ community as we understand it roday- Kaz Rowe on YouTube has some good videos on the topic I can’t reccomend enough!!!!))

And so I personally like to imagine that by the time he returns BACK to Valdelobos, he’s probably come to terms with it- but like most traumas, returning to the place where it all started and manifested probably would’ve brought up those same feelings of internalised homophobia like you’ve said; which is why he’s so afraid to confess to Leon. Even if he KNOWS he’s come to terms with his identity n such, that doesn’t mean that returning to the place where it all started doesn’t bring back up those old feelings (also him returning home in the manor that he does just makes my theory/headcannon that he’s Trans go WILD but I’m saving that for ANOTHER DAY)

‘He holds Religion very Close to him’ GOD YOURE SO RIGHT ABT THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!! Like even if he doesn’t still believe in god or anything his upbringing still effects him!!!!!!!!!!!!! He still always does the sign of the cross whenever he sees a dead body and obviously that classic catholic guilt and need to repent follows his every actions alongside just, y’know, the average amount of guilt people would feel in his situation BCNEHENDJDND so can you imagine how much WORSE he’d feeling going BACK to Valdelobos and meeting LEON and having all those feelings and fears come up again???????????? OUGH WHY MAKE ME THINK ABT THIS OP /lh

AND and, like you mentioned, Luis always has this reoccurring theme of thinking he has more time than he actually has and that he can run away from anything. It’s honestly so so so very tragic; and just the idea of that cycle repeating AGAIN in something SO PERSONAL (ie, his love for Leon) is just,,,,,,,,,, o u g h it’s so heartbreaking man why would you say that I am strangling you /jjjjjjjj

Luis always thinks he has more time to fix his mistakes, to be a better person- and even when he starts to realise he doesn’t, he still holds out hope. He thinks, ‘tomorrow I’ll tell Leon’, but he never gets that opportunity.

And finally this one is purely self indulgent but I’ve always pictured Luis as being the kind of person to just be happy labelling himself as ‘queer’ cuz it’s quick and convinient but BISEXUAL LUIS SL TRUE

(Also obligatory ‘these are just headcannons/theories/analysis nobody is saying these are CANNON this is just an observation’ message!!!!!!!)

#ericswriting #dear god this turned out to be so much longer than I intended ABSBDBENDHDNXJDND #I have. thoughts #luis serra #this is subject to change ofc I’m no expert on poc history and I might add even more thoughts into this later xhdndhnsjdns #also also if you’re gonna be mean or homophobic in the replies. just don’t. please be nice I just wanna have a nice discussion abt Luis ok #but ofc if I’ve said anything incorrect/offensive PLEASE please tell me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#luis sera #luis serra navarro

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lordgrimwing · 5 months

Text

Babysitting #01

Maglor didn't flinch when his office door swung open, hitting the doorstop on the wall with a bang. At the law firm of Fëanoro & Associates, slamming doors and raised voices were no uncommon thing. He considered it the natural consequence of working with his father and all six of his brothers (Amrod and Amras were just paralegals at this point, but there was no question that they would join the firm after graduating) in a single building. He continued typing on his chunky keyboard until he reached the end of the paragraph of the settlement document he was redrafting before looking up.

"I need you," Maedros said without preamble, the customary mildly annoyed expression he wore anytime he wasn't talking to clients or judges replaced by actual frustration. "To do something for me."

"I'm kind of in the middle of something," Maglor said, already knowing that he'd do whatever his brother asked and just end up staying even later at the office—it wasn't as if anything was waiting for him back at his apartment.

"She brought her children," The hand not gripping the edge of the door curled into a fist at his side.

“Who did?” One of the first changes Maglor made when he came on as an attorney was to hire some good secretaries. He did not pay that much attention to any of his brothers’ schedules these days.

“That Elwing woman, the pro bono case Celegorm talked me into.”

“Oh,” He was quite familiar with the details of this particular divorce if for no other reason than Maedhros complained about it at least once a day for the past month. The woman in question, a young peredhel from down south, was apparently prone to worrying over every detail and calling her attorney in a panic when she needed reassurance that everything would get worked out.

“I cannot work with children touching everything in my office.” His brother continued, shoulders tense.

He thought he knew where this was going. “And you need me to…”

“Just occupy them with something. If they aren’t around to interrupt and distract her from what we’re doing, I’ll be done in an hour, two at most if this girl keeps asking inane questions and insisting on accounting for every possible mishap in the formal papers.”

Maglor signed out of his computer and pushed his chair back from the desk. “I can do that.”

“Good,” Though the tone didn’t suggest it, he could see his brother’s gratitude in the faint softening of his frown before he turned away. “Come on.”

They walked quickly down the hall to Maedhros’s corner office. At the large wooden desk inside sat a woman with bleach-blond hair styled in a vaguely windswept way. She looked up anxiously when the door swished open, her bottom lip slipping out from between her teeth as she quickly tried to compose herself. She looked even younger than Maglor expected: less like the 23-year-old mother of twin 6-year-old boys and more like a child herself. The boys in question had their faces and hands pressed against one of the windows, staring out at the city below them.

“This is Maglor,” Maedhros said briskly to Elwing. “He will keep an eye on your children until we finish.”

Maglor smiled at her to smooth over his brother’s tone. “We’ll be just down the hall.”

“Thank you,” She said, still looking like a nervous wreck, and turned to her children. “Elros, Elrond.”

They turned from the window to look at the adults. Maglor was surprised to see they were identical and couldn’t help but recall how Amrod and Amras looked as children too. Even 20, most people outside the family had a hard time telling his brothers apart, though Amrod’s hair was getting slowly darker as the years passed. These twins did not bear any resemblance to his brothers, of course, beyond the fact that they were both identical sets. Their features bore such a mix of races as to make it impossible to guess at their heritage other than some combination of elf and human.

Elwing continued. “This nice man is going to take you to do something much more fun than listening to Mommy and Mr. Marillion talk.”

Maedhros’ upper lip curled back slightly in disgust at the use of his legal last name and probably at the reference to his brother as a man. Fëanor’s family held to the traditional values of the Noldor elves and preferred using more elvan terms. Personally, Maglor did not care much one way or the other if he were called an ‘ellon’ or a ‘man’, but everyone argued less when they all went along with tradition. He ignored his brother’s reaction and turned to the boys as they approached him.

“Yes,” He grinned at them, crouching slightly so he was not looming so far above them. “We can find something much more fun.”

“Do you have toy boats?” The first boy asked, holding hands with his brother who looked much more reluctant to talk with the stranger. “I love boats.”

His father kept a model of the boats the Noldor used to sail across the sea thousands of years ago in his office, but Maglor doubted Fëanor would appreciate them interrupting him to see it. “Let’s go see what we can find,” He said instead. At the very least, he could use one of the secretary’s computers to look up boat images or videos. If that was all it took to keep these children occupied, he would count himself lucky. He recalled Amrod and Amras being quite the handful at this age.

The first boy tugged the second along as they left the office. “I’m Elros,” He said and then pointed back at his brother. “He’s Elrond. It’s okay if you don’t remember, no one ever does.”

“I’ll do my best.” Given Elros was wearing a green t-shirt and Elrond a blue, he would have no trouble telling them apart. “What do you like most about boats?” He asked.

“You can go anywhere on a boat!” Elros exclaimed with obvious glee. “You can sail all over the world and visit all the countries and go on adventures. Who doesn’t like boats?”

“I’ve met a few hobbits who don’t.”

Elros rolled his eyes. “Our dad’s met all kinds of people on the sea, even hobbits!”

“Our dad’s a sailor.” Elrond piped up in a tiny voice.

By which, Maglor knew he meant their father was in the navy. He’s apparently been involved in some heroics a couple years ago which was somehow making the divorce more complicated than it should have been when two peredhil got married far too young and finally realized they shouldn’t stay together. According to his father, most people got married far too young these days, especially the elves. Fëanor spoke quite freely about the vices of marrying young when Curufin was going through his own quiet divorce five years ago. The then 23-year-old law student dutifully murmured his agreement with everything said as his now ex-wife took their child and drove away. Sometimes, it was better for everyone if couples didn’t stay together.

He wondered if these boys knew their parents were getting divorced. “That sounds very exciting,” He said instead and left it at that until they reached the front desk and he told the secretary that he’d be commandeering the unused computer so Elros could show him his favorite kinds of boats.

He did not particularly care for sailing himself. He’s gone out on the ocean a few times: their father insisted they all have at least an appreciation for the type of boats the Noldor used. He found the constant movement made him nauseated. Despite that, the next hour and a half passed surprisingly quickly as Elros, with a little support from Elrond, talked his way through picture after picture of various ships.

He looked up with surprise when he heard Maedhros’s voice. “Yes, yes I am sure that is everything we need to put in writing. Yes, Eärendil will be on leave next week and we’ll get everything signed and put away and it will all be official, and you do not need to worry.”

His tall brother guided Elwing through the doorway and into the front lobby. From his tone and expression, he was on his last thread of civility.

“All finished?” Maglor asked, standing up quickly and giving the children a gentle push toward their mother to distract her from whatever she was worrying about and his brother’s bruskness.

“Yes,” Maedhros said with conviction.

“Yes,” Elwing said with relief. “Mr. Marillion you’ve been so helpful, thank you. I feel so much better with adding those last couple things. I really do.” She turned to Maglor. “And thank you for looking after Elros and Elrond. I hope they weren’t too much trouble.”

“None at all,” He assured, thinking about the documents waiting in his office.

“Thank you again, Mr…” She trailed off, clearly fishing for his last name.

“It’s Marillion too, but please just call me Maglor. There are far too many of us in this firm to use our last name.”

With that, Maedhros ushered her and the two boys out through the glass entry doors.

“Is she getting custody?” Maglor asked when his brother turned around.

“Yes,” He answered, sounding entirely done with it all. “Full custody, the father didn’t even push very hard for visitation rights.”

“She doesn’t really seem like the kind of girl who should be raising kids on her own.” Maglor mused, watching through the glass as Elwing fumbled and dropped her car keys. When she bent over to retrieve them, her phone fell out of her purse to join the keys on the asphalt.

Maedhros snorted. “She’s done it for the last six years. The father will still pay child support, so a divorce isn’t going to change that much.”

“I suppose she loves them, at least.” Love did not play heavily in any of his siblings’ childhoods. Their father approved of results far more than people. Their mother appreciated that he and Maedhros were old enough to help when their siblings came along but was quite ready to continue with her career in the intervening years. People always talked about the importance of parents loving their children, though, so it seemed like an appropriate thing to say.

His brother shrugged, unconcerned. “She certainly worries.”

“How so?”

He turned back toward his office and Maglor followed by his side. “She wanted an addition to the agreement stating who should take the kids if she suddenly died or disappeared or was kidnapped and held for ransom by some eco-terrorist group, or if the police couldn’t definitively prove her ex wasn’t involved. I had to sit there for the last 40 minutes while she called every contact on her phone and asked if they would take them.” He threw his hands up with frustration.

“And did she find someone?” Maglor asked, curious.

“No! They all had the good sense not to answer or else say those were ridiculous things to worry about and told her to calm down and they’d talk later.” Maedhros looked as though he’d wanted to tell her a good deal more than that.

“She just gave up?”

“No,” He repeated, turning suddenly into Maglor’s office and flopping into one of the cushioned chairs for clients to sit in for more relaxed discussions. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

Maglor sat next to him. “You could get some nicer seats in your own office, you know, rather than using mine.” He chastised without any real intent. He liked when his brother stopped by to unwind a bit during the day.

Maedhros chuckled but didn’t answer. His office hardly changed in the ten years since he claimed the space after passing the bar.

“So what happened?” Maglor pushed.

“It’s past 6:30, I just wanted her to get out.” He said without opening his eyes.

“And?”

“I said I’d take them.”

Maglor laughed at the thought of his brother volunteering to look after children again. “Really?”

“Signed it and everything. Legally binding now.” Maedhros said, looking utterly unconcerned.

“Russ,” He switched to one of the names that he only used when lightly teasing his older brother. “That means you’ll have to raise two more boys if she suddenly and mysteriously dies.”

Maedhros inhaled sharply, a mockery of surprise, and said, “Pray that she doesn’t, Laurë. Pray that she doesn’t.”

#did i post this already? i don't know i can't find it here #theyre idiots your honor #anyway. maedhros really walked into this one #it's his own fault #maglor can never say no to his brig brother #that might be a problem later #but for now he gets to learn about boats #the silmarillion #maedhros #maglor #elwing #elros #elrond #twdd au #grimwing writes #trying to catch up on the twdd stories that i haven't posted here so have another one today

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blxckchxrrybxby · 1 year

Text

6 Months In Advance

summary: In the midst of sorting out a scheduling mishap, your daughter wanders away from you and makes her way up to HR.

pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Reader + Reader’s Daughter

warning(s): idek; mentions doctor? Scoliosis?

a/n: dude, I didn't revise this at all. Just brain vomit.

Six months.

That’s how far in advance you had planned for this appointment.

It was written in your planner, saved as a reminder on your phone, and circled in red ink on the calendar hanging in your cubicle. Yet, with barely an hour to spare, you found yourself in the main lobby of Kineros Robotics instead; demanding to speak with the men you worked for. The same men who were responsible for fucking up your work schedule and threatening to fire you on the spot if you didn’t come in.

You frowned, pacing as you checked the time anxiously. They couldn’t possibly fire you for a mistake on their behalf. You were more than 99% positive that you had taken this day off as soon as you were given the job. Hell, you had even mentioned it to them before an offer letter was—well—offered!

“Mommy?” Your daughter whispered, interrupting your thoughts with curiosity twinkling in her eyes. She took in the large building that seemed never-ending.

“Yes, sweet pea?” You replied gently (certain to make sure the stress you emitted wouldn’t be absorbed by your own innocent offspring).

“Where are we?” Her doe eyes were far too busy scanning the environment to pay any attention to you—causing you to let out a chuckle.

“At my job. I just need to talk to some friends really quick then we’ll be on our way.”

She nodded, accepting your words, and stared in astonishment at how different the world inside this building looked to her. It was nothing like the world in your cramped apartment. That world was far too small to compare, but her favorite stuffed animals resided there—so it was home. The building was nothing like the one where you dropped her off at to learn her ABC’s either. It was full of big people and not enough kids. Peering at the environment, her heart sunk at the sudden revelation—this place didn’t even have toys!

Despite how impressive this adult world was, it would never impress her more than recess.

“Uh…why are you here? And why aren’t you two at the doctor’s?” Your coworker (and only friend) asked after spotting you. Their shoes tapped faintly against the floor as they walked closer; holding their arms out to retrieve the bundled-up 5-year-old perched on your hip.

You looked at them with stress evident on your face, “Jeff and Mutt messed up the timesheet.”

They gasped, now holding the child securely against their own hip, “You’re joking.”

“If I were joking, I wouldn’t be standing right here, now would I?” You scoffed at the reality of your situation as your friend shook their head.

“The nerve of those two. On today of all days!”

You nodded, rubbing at your face. Before being granted the chance to respond, the receptionist informed you that Jeff and Mutt were ready to speak with you.

“Thanks, Marcy.” You replied politely and went to grab your daughter before your friend swatted your hand away. Your eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“You’re stressing enough. Just go talk to them. I’ll keep Willow safe and show her around since she seems so… intrigued.”

You both looked at your daughter, who was still eyeing every little detail of the building and chuckled.

“Fine. I’ll come to find you guys when I’m done.” You quickly leaned in and pressed a kiss to Willow’s cheek before scurrying to go see Jeff and Mutt.

Watching you disappear into the elevator, Willow was carried away from the main lobby. As time passed, she met many unfamiliar faces. Most of which slid peppermints into her small hands when y/f/n wasn’t looking, in the hopes of befriending the tiny human. After seeing most of the people on the first floor, Willow grew curious about what other adventures the building held.

Perhaps the top floors weren’t meant for children. Maybe goblins stomped all around guarding their treasures. Or maybe they were full of queens and kings, and the workers were the peasants! As her imagination grew wilder, Willow found herself itching to explore. Squirming in the uncomfortable office chair, she pouted at y/f/n.

“What’s wrong?” They asked, noticing how much your daughter was fidgeting.

“I have to potty.” Willow whined, coming up with the perfect excuse.

They blinked, “Oh, um. Okay... do you remember where the bathroom is at?”

Willow nodded and slid off the chair.

“When you’re done, come right back. I’ll be here waiting, okay?”

Again, Willow nodded before darting off. After passing the bathroom and sneaking past Marcy, Willow made her way onto the elevator. She grinned, pulling out a peppermint and shoving it into her mouth, before slamming her hand against one of the highest numbers. Willow giggled, enjoying the feeling of the elevator moving. It felt like she was on a rollercoaster, and it made her tummy feel funny. Maybe this place was better than recess!

Hearing a ding, the elevator doors opened, and out stepped Willow; instantly bumping into a pair of long legs. With a small, “oof!” her hands managed to grasp onto some fabric. A hesitant hand pressed against her back to keep her balance. Out of curiosity, Willow glanced to the side to see a cane, then glanced up as a woman dressed in purple stared down in slight shock.

“And who are you?”

Willow blinked, gently letting go of the stranger’s skirt, and adjusting her lavender glasses. Tilting her head, she observed as much of the woman as she could. Since the woman wore purple, Willow figured she must be the queen. Purple was for royalty, after all. However, Willow wasn’t naïve. Not all queens are good, she reminded herself.

“I shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

Wilhemina arched an eyebrow, smoothing down her skirt, “Neither should I. Yet here we are.” Huffing to herself, she looked around at her trembling assistant and the empty floor before shaking her head. “Follow me.”

As the queen, and trembling girl of whom Willow assumed to be her servant, began to walk away, Willow remained still; unsure of if she should follow the stranger. Noticing the only footsteps that could be heard were her own, Wilhemina halted and glanced back at the frozen child.

“Are you hard of hearing?”

Willow gnawed at her lip nervously and asked innocently, “…are you taking me to the dungeon?”

“Dun- Excuse me?” Wilhemina asked, more confused than she already was.

“You’re the queen, right?”

Wilhemina’s shock wore off and she chuckled, recognizing how wild the child’s imagination was. “Well, that’s one way to put it. Unfortunately, I don’t get paid enough to own a dungeon…yet. Now, come along before I abandon you in this hallway.” Scurrying after them, Willow grinned happily.

Standing in the stranger’s office, Willow looked up at the tall woman as she entered the room. “Do you have candy?”

Venable walked past the child and sat in her chair, “Even if I did, would your parents let you have it this early in the morning?”

Willow shrugged, “I only have one mommy.”

Venable took note of this; Mentally scanning through the employees in her head to guess whom this child could belong to. “Well, would your mother let you?”

Willow paused in thought, “No?”

“Alright then.”

As time passed, Wilhemina allowed Willow to get settled until her mother showed up to retrieve her. Alerts were sent out to inform the staff of a misplaced entity with two missing front teeth, now in her possession. Now, all Wilhemina had to do was wait for the culprit to show up at her office door. However, this was taking longer than Venable thought it would and the minor was oddly quiet. Especially considering she didn’t have any objects to keep children tame.

The anxiety of not knowing what the child was doing caused Venable to peer over her purple laptop and observe the little germ sitting on her lovely lavender couch (a fine touch and new addition to her workspace). She wasn’t used to the unpredictability of children. However, to her surprise, the little girl was already staring at her with a crossword book open on her petite lap. Venable furrowed her eyebrows as the curly-haired child adjusted her purple glasses back onto the bridge of her small nose. This little stunt warmed her heart to no end, yet she’d never admit it.

“Can I help you with something?” Venable asked, finally breaking the awkward silence.

The little girl shrugged and continued to stare.

Lowering her glasses, she sighed. “I’m assuming your mother has yet to teach you that staring is rude.”

“I wouldn’t stare if you were not pretty.” Willow stated plainly.

Venable tensed and cleared her throat. “You know nothing about what society sees as pretty.”

Willow frowned, “I don’t know who so-so-“

“Society.”

“-socility-“

“Try again. So-cie-ty.” Venable stated, slowing down her enunciation.

“-socie…um.” Willow tried.

“Take your time.”

“…s-society?”

“Correct.” Venable held back a smile. Willow didn’t. She was proud of her accomplishment. A new word she could tell her friends about.

“I don’t know who…society is, but I think you’re pretty.”

“Well.” Venable began, choosing to keep her insecurities to herself. “I suppose I should thank you.”

“Mommy says you don’t have to always say thank you when people tell you nice things.”

“That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?” Venable questioned, becoming more invested in the conversation than she would like to admit.

“No.” Willow stated bluntly.

“No?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” Venable arched an eyebrow, trying to piece together who the child’s mother could be.

“Ms. Benavle?”

Venable internally cringed from the mispronunciation. “Yes, child?”

Willow shifted, turning her body towards the awaiting woman, “What does society mean?”

Minutes continued to pass as Venable watched over the child. At first, she assumed the little brat was a prodigy, highlighting words at lightning speed in the crossword book. Then, after watching the page become consumed in purple highlighter, her assumptions were tossed out of the window. The child merely enjoyed coloring.

A slight knock caught her attention, breaking her out of the trance she was in. Perhaps it was the child’s mother.

“Come in,” Wilhemina called out, watching in disappointment as her intern opened the door.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Ms. Venable. Um, I just had a f-few more questions about the t-time off requests you wanted me to finish-“

Now standing from her desk and approaching the intern as if she were prey, Venable sneered.

“I understand that you are mediocre at best and the tasks assigned to you may be tedious—however—I can assure you that it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to complete them. Now, as you can see, I am with child.” Her hand barely outstretched to point towards Willow, “Go be stupid somewhere else. Preferably on the first floor.”

As the intern scurried out of the office, Willow grimaced and crossed her arms at the tall lady. Venable glanced in her direction and arched an eyebrow, “What?”

“You shouldn’t say bad words.”

With a scoff, Wilhemina retreated back to her desk, “Last I checked, I didn’t.”

“Yuhuh, you just did.”

As her ungloved fingers rubbed at the throbbing temple, she hoped to rid herself of the headache that resided in her head and on the couch across from her.

“And what word was it, exactly?”

Willow blinked; eyes widening in surprise. “You’re letting me say it? Mommy said I shouldn’t say it.”

This caused Venable to snort in amusement. After catching her reaction, she cleared her throat. How odd. “How else will I know what I’ve said unless you tell me?”

Looking around, in case it was a trap, Willow swiftly ran up to Venable, stood on her tippy toes to reach her ear, and whispered, “…stupid.”

Wilhemina closed her eyes for a moment, trying to comprehend how she managed to end up in a situation such as this.

As the clock neared Venable’s first break and the child remained in her ownership, she sighed.

“Tell me something, little one.”

Venable’s sudden conversation caught Willow’s attention, causing her to perk up in curiosity.

“Why exactly are you here?”

Willow shrugged and looked down at her hands, “I don’t know. I was going to see the doctor, but mommy came here.”

Wilhemina hummed to herself, trying to piece together why the child had been roaming the building unattended. “An appointment, you say?” She looked through her emails, feeling a hint of deja vu. Something about this was vaguely familiar.

“Yes. I get a new brace today!” This caused Venable to arch an eyebrow, “Hopefully it’s purple like this one! Want to see?” Venable remained silent as the child began to unzip her bubble coat. As she shimmied it off of her petite shoulders, the back brace came into view, launching Venable into a state of paralyzation. “See? It’s very pretty.”

She knew this felt familiar. This was Willow. As HR, Venable was well aware of the subordinates and their beneficiaries. She was also aware of any time off requests submitted. Within the past year, Kineros had onboarded so many new faces that she ignored or denied at least 70% of the time off requests within the first week. It was either you work or you find another place to pay your bills. However, some of the accruing requests must have slipped through her fingers. Something she rarely ever fell victim to. Especially after reading something as detailed as Willow’s mother’s.

“Hello? Ms. Benavle?”

Wilhemina blinked; hearing Willow capture her attention once more. She quickly searched through her files and found the denied time-off request. The only issue was, she didn’t remember denying it. Clicking on the document, it slowly brought up the pdf, showing that it had been stamped with her credentials; meaning she didn’t formally sign it.

Her intern did.

“Shit!” She groaned.

Willow gasped, “Bad word!”

Ignoring her and standing from the chair, Venable quickly made her way toward the door. “Follow me.”

Willow quickly grabbed her coat and followed along, “Where are we going?”

Walking with intention as her cane collided firmly with the floor, Wilhemina pressed the elevator button, “To find your mother.”

As the elevator opened to the ground floor and Venable stood with a cane in one hand and Willow’s hand in the other, they both descended into the lobby. You and your friend scurried around, panicking at the fact that there was a lost five-year-old in the building. “How in the hell did you lose her?!”

“She’s sneaky!” your friend retorted.

“She’s five!” you fumed.

Venable arched an eyebrow and held Willow close, before clearing her throat.

Your friend gasped, seeing Willow with Venable, as did you.

“Oh God, Willow! Baby, where were you??” You worried, as she ran over to you and gave you a hug. Rubbing her back, you sighed in relief.

“With me.” Venable interrupted, “May I have a word with you, y/n?”

You nodded, picking Willow up in your arms, and walked away with Venable.

“I am beyond sorry for everything that’s happened. I swear, this will never happen again, Ms. Venable.”

“Why not?” Venable inquired.

You paused, unsure of how to continue—so she did. “This, no matter how unusual it was, was entirely my fault.” You remained silent and equally dumbfounded. “I extend an apology to both you and Willow. It seems my stupid-“ Willow glared causing Venable to clear her throat, “My incompetent intern did not know better and denied your request. I remembered it. Not that it matters, as it’s potentially too late. However, I understand how difficult it is to get an appointment for these kinds of things. If you would like… I have a doctor who would be more than ecstatic to treat Willow as soon as possible.”

You remained silent. At a complete loss for words.

“As fond as I am of silence, I believe a conversation must include two willing parties.”

Willow nudged you, helping you come back to your senses as Venable awaited a response. “I… I’d love that. However, I’d prefer it now… Um, they informed me that since I’m refusing to work today, this is grounds for termination.”

“Nonsense,” Venable stated, completely unphased. “I will have a word with those two imbeciles, and you needn’t worry about a thing.”

You nodded with a slight blush adorning your cheeks as Willow squirmed from your arms and made her way over to Venable, hugging her legs, “I’ll miss you Ms. Benavle.”

With a chuckle, Wilhemina caressed the child’s head. “I will miss you as well, Willow.” Sliding a piece of peppermint out of her pocket, she handed it to Willow with the whisper of a smile adorning her lips. “Come back and visit whenever.”

#wilhemina venable x reader #reader + child #reader's child #wilhemina venable

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