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strawberrysturniolo · 5 months

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goal part 2 // hockey!chris

summary: your boyfriend tries to take some pressure off you by taking you on a late night ice skating date

part one, part three

“Chris,” I groan. “I have a final tomorrow. I really shouldn’t go out.”

“The fact that you have a final is the exact reason why you should go out,” he argues. We’ve been on the phone for ten minutes, the entire call consisting of Chris trying to persuade me to ditch my studying and head to wherever his plan is to take us. That's part of the issue. If I knew what he wanted to do, maybe I wouldn’t be so hesitant to leave tonight. “You’ve been so stressed out this semester. Let’s end it right.”

I go silent, weighing my options. When I don’t answer fast enough, Chris continues his methods of convincing me.

“Come onnnnn. I’ll come pick you up and we can go have some fun.”

I sigh, unable to win this argument.

“Pick you up in 15?”

“See you then.”

“Bye baby.”

I tidy up my study space, which consists of scattered notes and multicolored pens, color-coding different sections of my pages.

After my room is cleaned to my liking, which is just enough to where it doesn’t look like a tornado came through, I pull on a sweatshirt and another jacket over top, considering the weather in the North East is below freezing.

I run down the steps to my apartment complex, finding Chris in his car out front. The light hum of rap music playing seeps out of the car, and I’m met with the sound of no other than his favorite artist when I open the door.

The door opening catches his attention. He looks up from his phone, a soft smile on his face. “Hi.”

“Hi, pretty boy.” I cup his chin with my left hand as I buckle myself with the other, kissing his lips. When I pull back, his eyes are still closed, and his smile is only growing. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he finally says as he puts the car in drive and peels out of my lot. His hand alternates between holding my hand and my thigh, sometimes drawing circles on my knee, other times squeezing my hand and playing with my fingers. It’s obvious that his love language is physical touch. It’s like his battery dies if our bodies aren’t connected in some way, whether it’s him thrusting into me or him giving my hand soft kisses while he drives. I can feel him recharge just by touching me, and something about that makes me feel powerful.

The drive is silent on our part, other than the music playing lowly out of the speakers. I don’t ask question, but rather stare at him as he makes each turn, continuing down paths I’m unfamiliar with, insisting it’s the backway. Eventually, we pull up to a place I am very familiar with.

“The hockey rink?” I ask, watching him unbuckle and get out of the car. I quickly do the same.

“Yeah,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets. He pulls his beanie down over his ears, which have turned a soft shade of red in the cold.

I jog to catch up with him. “Isn’t it closed for the night?”

“Mhm,” he hum, but he finds a way inside anyway. I follow him anxiously as we head to the locker room, where all of his hockey gear is stored. He grabs his own skates, tells me to wait for him to return, and comes back with skates for me.

“How’d you get those?” I ask timidly.

He tosses them down at the floor, then kneels down to help me tie them. “From the rentals.” I don’t bother making a point of the fact that no student is there working the rentals, and not only are we trespassing, but we’re also stealing. My anxiety is skyrocketing. I was already worried about my final and making sure I had ample time to study, and now I have my boyfriend breaking and entering with me as his stupid sidekick. “We’re fine, babe,” he assures me as if he can read my mind. “Do you know how often I come here to practice after hours? As long as we don’t fuck anything up, we’re fine.”

“So no stealing the zamboni?” I tease, starting to loosen up.

He breathes out a laugh, then stands after tying my skates before he rests his foot on a bench to tie his own. “Definitely not.”

He holds my hand as I struggle to walk properly on my skates. Once we make it to the ice, he takes my hands carefully, holding them securely as he steps backwards onto the rink.

“I got your hands,” he assures me. We’ve had numerous ice skating dates since we started going out, but still, my hockey boyfriend is unable to teach me how to maneuver on the ice.

I nod uneasily, trying to think of anything other than falling. Chris holds my arms, skating backwards slowly, pulling my body with him. I probably look ridiculous, but he’s grinning, happy to be sharing his safe space with me.

“There you go!” he cheers. “You got it, baby!”

I nod, smiling a bit, trying to lift my own feet and skate by myself. It works the first few strides, until I lose my balance and start to go down. He catches me before I can fall, hooking his hands under my arms and pulling me back up.

“That was really good. You’re doing a lot better than when you started.”

In no way am I trying to become an olympic skater, but it would be nice if I could stand on my own two feet when skating with my boyfriend who has played hockey since he could walk.

He continues to pull me around the ice, praising me for my attempts to take control of my own feet. Eventually, we lay down on the ice, one arm behind his head, and the other wrapped around me. We stare at the ceiling of the rink, a comfortable silence forming before I break it.

“What are we going to do when we graduate?”

This question has been eating at both of us. I’m not from this city, and he is. He has scouts looking at him for professional hockey, but he has no idea if he plans on playing in the NHL. I need to take advantage of getting my career started, but I don’t want to leave him.

“We still have another year,” he reminds me, but I know at this point that this is his way of avoiding my question.

“I know but I don’t know if I plan on staying in Boston,” I add.

He inhales sharply. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

I lift my head up, turning over to him so he can focus on me and our conversation. This is important, Chris. Please listen to me. “What's going to happen with us?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about this,” he repeats, his eyes burning holes in mine. I start to feel mine well up, and to stop myself from shedding a tear over his tone and the topic of conversation, I set my head on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

It takes him a second, but he puts his hand on my back, his cheek pressing on the top of my head. “What final do you have tomorrow?” he asks, changing the subject.

“Psychology.” The sight of my colorful notes are engraved in my brain.

“What time?”

“Noon.”

“Do you want to get lunch after?” he suggests. “My treat since you’ve been working so hard.”

“That sounds nice,” I nod. “How are your finals going?”

“I’m passing,” he answers shortly. “That’s all that matters.”

I give him a look. He knows exactly what I’m thinking. The thing with Chris is that he’s very smart, he just doesn’t care about college, and I really don’t think he would have gone if he hadn’t received a hockey scholarship. The only reasons his brothers attended were because they received the same scholarship, and they all wanted to stick together. He’s majoring in Entrepreneurship. His brain is flooded with creative ideas that it seemed like the best option for him to be able to study while pursuing hockey.

“The classes that matter are the ones I’m doing better in,” he says, noting his few business classes. “The stupid shit like history that has no relevance to my degree, that’s a different story. All that matters is that I pass so I can play hockey.”

He hates talking about school. I can see it on his face. He wishes I would change the subject. It’s obvious.

I press a kiss to his soft lips. He returns the act, then shocks me when he speaks.

“Stay here for Christmas.”

I feel my heart fall into my stomach, I try not to stumble over my words. “I can’t, I have to visit my family.”

“Do you think you could come like… the day after, sometime really close to Christmas?” he poses instead. “I wanna feel like we’re celebrating the day of.”

It warms my heart that he wants to celebrate this together. We haven’t discussed much of it. We’re not really the gift giving kind of couple. We care so much more about these moments, where it’s just us holding each other.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I answer him, unable to give a clear answer. “I can definitely be here for new years.”

“Good,” he smiles, content. “You owe me a kiss.”

“Oh do I?” I tease, leaning up to him.

“Mhm.”

I press another kiss to his lips. His hands snake around my back, his tongue opening my lips before gliding against mine. A quiet moan leaves my mouth as his hand tangles in my hair. My hand holds his jaw, begging for more of him.

That’s when I flinch at the sound of the main lights being flashed on.

Chris pulls back, his eyes widening as he struggles to stand up. “Oh fuck.” He grabs my hand and pulls me up, skating off the ice and dragging me behind him. “Shit shit shit shit shit,” he chants.

“What is it?” I ask, trying to look behind me and find whoever is here.

Chris bends down in front of me, untying our laces and yanking our skates off our feet. I almost fall over at the force of him pulling mine off.

“Okay, well,” he starts, already out of breath. “I may have lied a little.”

My eyes widen. “What??”

I follow his jog to the locker room where he grabs his things and tosses me my shoes,

“I do come here sometimes to skate and clear my head,” he admits. “But that usually ends at 8, sometimes 9 depending on the day of the week.”

“What time is it now?” I ask, and when he turns his phone over to me, I feel my stomach drop.

1:22 am.

How long were we here?

“You guys can’t be in here!” someone shouts from a distance. “Trespassing on property can result in expulsion, and if you aren’t a student, I could have you arrested!”

My eyes widen, fear written all over me.

“Shh. It’s fine. Just follow my lead,” he says. I nod once, then watch him dig around in his hockey bag. He pulls out his helmet, tugs it down on my head to cover my face, then pulls his own hoodie up. He grabs my hand, and on his cue, I’m sprinting out of the building with him.

“Hey!”

“Go go go!” Chris tells me. I run in front of him, turning around at the sound of hockey sticks clattering on the floor.

Chris yanked down a bucket of 20 hockey sticks, causing a mess in front of whoever is chasing us, giving us a few extra seconds to get out of here.

I jump in the car, not even realizing that the helmet is still on my head. Chris’ wheels squeal as he speeds out of the parking lot, finally getting buckled once we’re away. The sound of his laughter snaps me back into it.

“What?!” I ask him, annoyed that he could find this situation funny.

“You look cute as fuck in my helmet.”

I reach for the face mask, trying to pull it off, only struggling in the process. He reaches over and removes it for me.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says, fixing my hair. “Garrett in there is a dick. He has this whole god complex because he works after hours. Weird as hell.”

“I should really go home and get some sleep before my final.”

He nods, guilt displayed on his face. “Can I have a do over tomorrow after your final? Your casual lunch date just got upgraded because I feel bad.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I tease, kissing his cheek before he drops me off at home.

#christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader

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cobragardens · 8 months

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CORRECTED & UPDATED! Clothes + Equivocation = Romance:

The Husbands in 1793

EDIT: I made a significant error when I wrote this. As @goodjomans kindly points out in the comments to Part 2 of this essay (massive shoutout for this, goodjomans! also I love your name!), Aziraphale is the one who dresses the executioner in clothing like Aziraphale's original ensemble, not Crowley. This changes my conclusions about the meaning we can take from this scene!

On the one hand, mea culpa, y'all. I shall get on with eating my crow. On the other hand, I had to go through this frame-by-frame to catch which of the ineffable spouses puts Jean-Claude in his new togs, and the answer only lasts three frames. Here it is:

After Aziraphale changes his clothes, but before Crowley snaps his fingers and unfreezes time, there's a shot of the executioner over Crowley's shoulder, and he is now wearing a light coat with gold embroidery on the shoulders like Aziraphale's. Aziraphale arranges the executioner's death, not Crowley. So I feel like an idiot for missing it, but not a total idiot.

Let's discuss how this information changes what we can read from this scene! I'm going to leave my original text in place and edit with bold green. I can still stand by most of this essay, but this detail changes how I read the meaning of the husbands' communication at the end of this scene.

So we're all clear on the fact that the universe of Good Omens is an inescapable nightmare dystopia in which either of the husbands' merciless authoritarian regimes could be watching or listening to them at any time, yes? And that if either are caught 'fraternizing' with the other that means discorporation, torture, memory wipe, and/or death for either or both of them, yes?

Which means Crowley and Aziraphale can never speak or do anything openly to each other about their friendship or attraction or love. Everything they say and do has to have an innocuous meaning they can point to in case anybody ever sees or hears something Team Azcrow can't explain away. Walls (and ducks) have ears, and the price of slipping up--as we see in 1827--is heavy.

When a character says or does something that has two distinct meanings because they need to disguise what they really mean from one party but make their meaning plain to another, lit-nerds (and lit nerds🍃) call this equivocation. Equivocation is a kind of coded communication meant to pass hostile ears and eyes in plain sight but reach its intended recipient with its true meaning. The 1793 scene is jammed with it.

A lot of that coded messaging revolves around the clothes Crowley and Aziraphale choose in this scene, so--THESIS PARAGRAPH, BITCHES--we're going going to talk about how their clothes read to the people of this time period and location, what their clothes tell us about their characters, how their clothes help them equivocate, and what they're really saying with that equivocation. And Spoiler A-fucking-lert, it is ROMANTIC AF PRETTY GD ROMANTIC. Let's get nerdy!

We start with Aziraphale's beautiful champagne-gold and powder-pink ensemble.

This outfit would tell people of this time period 3 things about Aziraphale:

That he's insanely wealthy--These clothes would be silk, hand-embroidered with thread made with actual gold. Each individual garment could cost years' or even decades' worth of working-class wages and take a team of skilled artisans dozens to hundreds of hours to make.

That he's a fop--i.e., a man who loves fine clothes and dressing up and looking fancy. By the 1790s in England, once-fashionable foppishness was giving way to the Neoclassical 'Corinthian' style, and was considered effete. (Fun note: During this time period, effete did not automatically indicate gay, and pink was considered a masculine color, so while Az. is queering it up to the audience here, his clothes would not have read as gay or overtly effeminate to the other characters around him.)

Even though he's insanely wealthy, Aziraphale wears clothes that are decades out of fashion.

According to the Victoria & Albert Museum, "As the [18th] century progressed, the male silhouette slowly changed.[...] Coat skirts gradually became less full and the front was cut in a curved line towards the back. Waistcoats became shorter. The upper leg began to show more and more[...]. Shoes became low-heeled with pointed toes and were fastened with a detachable buckle and straps or ribbon[.]

Source

That description is not what Aziraphale's wearing. Judging by his heel height and the length of his waistcoat, Aziraphale is wearing a style that's at least a decade older than this:

And this is from 1765. The great crepes caper happens in 1793, almost 30 years later.

My inference: Just as he has in the modern period, Aziraphale has settled into a style he really likes and refused to let go of it long after it's gone out of fashion.

We'll come back to this set of Aziraphale's clothes in a bit, but we need to talk about Crowley's first, because Crowley's clothes in this scene help render a line he says later about this outfit very flirtatious and darkly romantic.

First, some background: What was considered acceptable attire for wealthy people in France changed pretty much overnight during the French Revolution after the storming of the Bastille in 1789 and the fall of the French monarchy. Instead of advertising wealth, clothes now had to advertise political allegiance, and they had to do so loud and clear. And if you didn't want to be murdered by the French First Republic, that political allegiance had fucking better be to the Revolution.

People started wearing a looooooot of super patriotic shit. And I mean it was like little kids on the 4th of July; clothes were red, white, and blue in any hue and garish combination and print. The cockade, a fabric rosette in the colors of the French flag, was required by law to be worn by men, and despite that was just as popular among women. To show solidarity with the laboring classes, the fabrics the wealthy wore went from embroidered silk in light Rococo colors (what Aziraphale is wearing) to sober neutrals without decoration in wool, cotton, and linen.

Now, the script note for Crowley's clothing in this scene is this:

But clearly there were some changes made between script and filming, because Crowley does not appear standing behind Aziraphale; he appears lounging.

And he's not dressed as a French peasant.

Here's how French peasants dressed in 1790:

Peasants at this time wore styles that distinguished them from the styles of the upper classes not just in materials, colors, or patterns, but in shapes. Full trousers and cropped boxy jackets in French flag colors were the marks of the laboring-class Revolutionary, and both styles were huge changes from hundreds of years of French fashion up to that point.

And that's not what Crowley shows up wearing. Crowley is wearing the knee breeches, stockings, waistcoat, and frock coat of a wealthy man, and in fact his clothes reference a very specific type of wealthy man.

In the 1790s, if you were an aristocrat who wasn't happy about the Revolution and you were so sure of your privilege that you would risk your life showing it, you wore black in mourning for the monarchy and in protest of the violence of its deposition. If you were an aristocrat who wanted to protest and you didn't want to be immediately murdered by the French First Republic, you wore a style called half-mourning, which was black with a colored coat.

Here's a picture from a 1790 fashion magazine of an aristocrat in half-mourning:

"The text accompanying the plate describes his ensemble as 'half-mourning,' referring to the aristocrats who lamented 'the diminished powers of the monarchy and [signaled] their willingness to die for the royal cause'" [emph. added]. [Source]

Notice: the shoes, stockings, breeches, waistcoat, and cravat are all black. You with me?

Because here's Crowley in 1793:

I've turned up the brightness and exposure in this image so he's more clearly visible against the stone, but I haven't warmed it up. He's wearing a coat that's a dark blackish red. Everything else, even his cravat, even his shirt, is black. (The black shirt is anachronistic, a lovely little nod to Crowley's refusal to wear angelic white.)

This is 179fuckin'3, y'all. Marie Antoinette is executed in 1793. It's 3 full years after that fashion plate up there in his bright red jacket, and that lil dude was already risking his neck way back in 1790. As we can see from the fact that the government are apparently now grabbing random wealthy-looking Englishmen off the street to murder without trial, the time for a man demon to be sauntering around Paris dressed in all black or even nearly all black is well past.

Crowley's also wearing a whole assload of huge silver buttons, which would have been flashy and tacky and frankly pretty weird in 1793 but very definitely an eccentric Rich Person Thing to do, bc regular buttons at this time were horn or wood and covered with the garment's fabric. The only man in France who could get away with this fancy aristo shit anymore was Robespierre himself, and only "devotion to the cause[...] excused Robespierre’s showy dress since he was perceived as a bridge between the politically empowered bourgeois deputies and the ardently antimonarchical unenfranchised classes." [Source]

So when Crowley teases Aziraphale--

--both of them are perfectly well aware that Crowley's outfit would get him just as killed as Aziraphale's.

And that's why Aziraphale's expression is annoyed when he has abandon his "standards" and change his clothes. Because Aziraphale's the one who needs the favor, Crowley makes him take one for the team and wear the goofy hat.

The clothes Az. changes into here still tell people that he's rich, but they also say he's a hardcore Revolutionary. The red jacket in a current cutaway style, the cockade and sash, and the bonnet phrygien (the red garden-gnome cap) all announce this guy is a huge supporter of the Revolution. His clothes are all still aristocratic in shape and materials (and he keeps his now-unfashionably frilly lace cravat), but he's no longer flaunting obscene wealth in a city filled with angry starving people, and the gnome cap says he's in solidarity with the working classes even if he isn't one of them.

Once he restarts time, Crowley is not leaving that prison cell safely without either changing his clothes or taking Aziraphale with him, because Crowley looks like a rich asshole protesting the fall of the monarchy--which is frankly exactly the kind of thing he'd show up wearing to the Bastille during the Reign of Terror (just like he wears athleisure in Heaven). But Aziraphale's new appearance covers for them both: if the rich-looking guy with no cockade and wearing all black under his almost-black coat is in with this other guy who's obviously a Revolution fanatic, then the rich guy's probably okay, right? He just forgot his sash at home or something. Bees.

Something else happens when Az. changes, too. Look at Aziraphale's new dress from a different angle:

Half-mourning is a white shirt, but a black cravat, so this isn't half-mourning. He's wearing three different badges of the Revolution to make up for the fact that Crowley looks like a Satanic libertine (which tbf he is), but Aziraphale's new ensemble is black and dark red.

Y'all. Aziraphale changes into Crowley's colors.

Now, this is a more fashionable and higher quality version of what the executioner is wearing, so Aziraphale has very plausible deniability here; if anyone ever pulled him up on it, he could say he just copied our man Jean-Claude.

But let me show you what English fashion looks like right now:

This is a French painting of a wealthy Frenchman, but he's wearing the English 'Corinthian' style. It was painted in 1795, so this would have been the very cutting edge of fashion in England in 1793, and the fabrics and colors look right at home in Revolutionary Paris. (He's wearing the cockade on his hat, btw.)

Look at all that angelic white! The buttery almond of the buckskin breeches, the golden kidskin gloves, the rich tan of the riding boots! The blue of the greatcoat! All colors we know Aziraphale prefers!

And yet this is what Aziraphale chooses:

We know from the entire rest of the show how very particular about his clothes Aziraphale is. And yet 150 years before he (accidentally) admits in words that he's Crowley's friend, Aziraphale wears Crowley's colors to take him to lunch to say thank you for a rescue.

When we decide whether a character's speech or action is equivocation, one of the things we check is whether equivocation (and deception generally) is something that character does elsewhere in the text, which, with Aziraphale, hahahahaha, DUH. He's already using equivocation in this scene.

The lunch date itself is equivocation on Aziraphale's part. Aziraphale tries to thank Crowley for the rescue, but Crowley says,

So Aziraphale says,

No more words like "thanks" or "rescue" used, but a couple hours of good food and drink and conversation, Aziraphale hopes, will express the gratitude toward Crowley it's not safe to speak aloud. With this, Crowley and Aziraphale explicitly establish that they are equivocating for each other's safety and using coded communication--immediately before Aziraphale changes into Crowley's colors.

So yes, Aziraphale may well copy the executioner's clothes. But consider: When a character who can't speak or act openly says or does something that has two or more possible meanings, this can be read as equivocation.

We don't get a face reaction from Crowley about Aziraphale's new 'fit, so we can't be sure how he feels about this. But this whole scene is, even on its surface, about 1) the meaning clothes transmit to a viewer ("Oh good Lord," says Aziraphale when he sees what Crowley's wearing) and 2) how to show gratitude and appreciation when you can't speak of them openly. And we know Crowley notices clothing and clothing colors, because look at what he wears, like, ever. So it's very reasonable to presume he notices Aziraphale wearing his colors, and it fits well with both the rest of Crowley's actions in this scene and with his being very hurt and angry when Aziraphale later characterizes their interactions as "fraternizing."

Right, so we've covered what's going on with the husbands' clothes, and we've looked at two examples of equivocation on Aziraphale's part, viz., lunch and his change of colors. (Here's an example of equivocation on Crowley's part as well.) Now let's look at that super interesting thing Crowley says about Aziraphale's first outfit.

Here's the line:

Crowley follows up here on earlier lines in which he teases Aziraphale for coming to Reign-of-Terror Paris for crepes: "Dressed like that?" meaning Aziraphale was guaranteed to get arrested dressed like an aristocrat. The top layer of equivocation is always an innocuous meaning: the plausible deniability meant for the hostile/unsafe listeners. That's Meaning 1.

But "Dressed like that, s/he's asking for trouble" means two other things, too. It's a veeerrrrry familiar phrase, isn't it? We've all heard that arrangement of words in that order before. It's used when people think someone (usually but not always a woman) is dressed to invite sexual attention.

How do we know we're supposed to take this modern meaning from this phrase? This is how:

We have learned in literally the previous sentence to this one that rain has not been invented yet. The only two humans in existence have just left the Garden. Balloons definitely do not exist yet, humans couldn't tell you what lead is, and yet this is a phrase Crowley uses and Aziraphale understands. This tells us, the audience, in the very first line of the very first scene with these characters, that their speech is anachronistic and modern, and that we are to understand their phrasing in its contemporary sense.

So. When Crowley says "Dressed like that, he was asking for trouble" in 1793, we should read that in the context of the scene and in the senses the phrase carries to us today.

And since Crowley is using a phrase that means the executioner is dressed to invite sexual attention, and the executioner is wearing clothes identical to Aziraphale's, then Crowley is necessarily telling Aziraphale that when Aziraphale was wearing those clothes--those frilly, effete, unfashionable-for-decades clothes that nobody else likes and the French now murder people for wearing--that was, in Crowley's view...provocatively sexy. Meaning 2.

"Dressed like that, s/he was asking for trouble" is also what people say to justify violence, especially sexual violence against women and queerphobic attacks against men perceived as gay or just 'insufficiently' 'masculine'. In fact justifying assault is likely the most common way this phrase is used today by a wide margin. Meaning 3.

Crowley's joke isn't even really a joke in this sense; it's a vicious barb. And, because it must, it sounds like it's at Aziraphale's expense: You wore the wrong clothes, you weren't careful enough to guard yourself against the men who want to do you harm, so you deserved the trouble you got. Meaning 1.

Except remember: Crowley is also dressed for trouble. And Aziraphale is aware of this. Crowley's 'fit would be almost as offensive to the Revolutionary French of 1793 as Aziraphale's Rococo pastels, and probably just as likely to get him arrested and murdered by the state if he weren't making letting Aziraphale keep him safe by wearing the cockade and the silly hat. Crowley's not saying anything about Aziraphale here that he's not also saying about himself; and as we know from Aziraphale's initial "Oh good Lord" when he turns around and sees Crowley's black and red half-mourning (with extra black and gobs of silver), Aziraphale knows it.

Then why the rapey joke, Crowley?

This is fucking why:

Crowley rocks up at the Bastille just in time to witness some grubby fucker assault his friend. Assault the person Crowley will greet 15 seconds after this as angel.

Crowley's first act after freeing Aziraphale is to send this dude to his death. Nope! Aziraphale is the one who arranges to have the executioner killed in the clothes he would have killed Aziraphale for wearing. He takes Jean-Claude's ability to speak (but not to make sounds, interestingly! Jean-Claude can still whimper, Jean-Claude can still cry!) so the executioner can't tell anyone about the 'mixup.' It's unclear which of them blocks the executioner's power of speech. The vicious joke about assault in Meaning 3 isn't at Aziraphale's expense at all. It's not You wore the wrong clothes, so you deserved the trouble you got. It's If this guy thinks you deserve trouble for wearing the wrong clothes, he can eat his own rules.

And that's the other piece of evidence that, along with Crowley's ensemble, shows us the audience and Aziraphale which meanings Crowley intends with his equivocation. Meaning 1 is cancelled out by Crowley's clothes. That leaves Meanings 2 and 3.

Crowley and Aziraphale share clothes as a common interest. They don't have the same style, but they're both aware of current fashions, and Heaven and Hell aren't. You can't tell me Hastur or Uriel would recognize the significance of Crowley saying "Dressed like that, he's asking for trouble" about someone else while wearing black stockings and cravat and waistcoat himself. And that means Anything the husbands communicate to each other through clothing choices goes undetected by their masters.

SO. With all this in mind, let's go through the 1793 scene again and look at what their clothes help them say without words.

Concluded in Part 2!

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens s2 #good omens costumes #good omens fan theory #good omens meta #good omens analysis #aziracrow #azcrow #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #azicrow #good omens 1793 #good omens 1984 #good omens clothes and equivocation

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agarthanguide · 6 months

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How the heck do you get Ashton to actually look like a rock? Signed, a fanartist who has tried every brush under the sun but still cannot nail it the way you brilliantly have.

ahhh thank you so much for the kind words!

Answer (sort of)- Ash's palette was hugely up in the air for a really long time. I kept pitching random bits of color at Taliesin, but his write up did not have any specific coloring in it from the get-go. And because I knew they were made of rock, I trended towards something to the left or right of grey (his working/code name had the word grey in it, as well, which def influenced me).

This went on for a while, until one day Tal did his Tal thing and just sent me plans for the finished Ashton. He painted over one of my sketches with the colors he wanted, included refs of some textures. The textures for the skin included nephrite and serpentine (nephrite is one form of jade, serpentine is a whole other thing.)

The serpentine reference had these really bold lines running through it, and I was worried I wouldn't be able to replicate them, so i just... dropped the texture into the sketch. I think I was just checking to see if it was gonna make them unreadable, but it actually looked pretty great. I painted over it a bit to work out where the lines should fall and how to get them to bend around the figure. And then when I was doing the final render, I made a brush that made the fucky line effect. There's one key element to the brush that I will show you-

The shape of the brush is just a random splatter shape, but the angle, size, and roundness change in response to pen pressure, so that as you draw, you can increase the size with added pressure, and some lovely, 3-D helix shapes will start appearing as you go.

From there it's easy- Make an extreme dark and an extreme light in your little texture space, then paint over in variations of green to push things deeper into Ash's "skin" while maintaining a slight transparency.

Here's some other little tips- - Before you add intense, lined texture, start with a textured base. This can be anything. Once I used a picture of the amazon rainforest with heavy color correction. Sometimes I use sponge brushes. Have fun with it. - Try to make the larger textures support the underlying figure. My go-to is large, lazy spirals that shimmy up and down their limbs. - Don't fight the lighting too much. To increase readability, try to use elements of higher or rougher texture to frame the features, while keeping the immediate area of their eyes, for example, less busy.

Good luck, and thanks for the ask!

#my art #critical role #asks

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hoe4sports · 7 days

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Take care of Clara

Jessie Fleming x Reader

A/N: Mentions of car accidents and death, anxiety . This was supposed to be one part but it ended up being so long.

Summary: An unplanned meeting between your daughter and Jessie ends up with your daughter as the mascot. But your daughter has anxiety, and it’s about to break lose.

“Mmm, Jess, the door” you mumbled half asleep as you and your girlfriend Jessie was snoozing in bed a Saturday morning. Your head pounding from the dehydration. Jessie had the weekend off, and you had decided to have a date night with a few homemade cocktails. A few being closer to 10, but that was beside the point.

*DUNK, DUNK, DUNK*

“JESSIE, the door!!” You yelled as you kicked a half asleep Jessie out of bed. It was her apartment after all, and you had only been dating for 10 months. It was a good 10 months. You had gone on a few weekend trips together doing anything from hiking to going to the beach. It was nice, it was casually which was obvious considering you had been best friends for well over 10 years. Practically growing up hand in hand until you moved away as a kid, and since the world wasn’t very online back then; you lost contact. Things had changed when you had went to a friends dinner party and you had found your designated seat next to a name card that said “Jessie”. When she sat down, you couldn’t believe it. You instantly clicked as you talked all through the night, not talking to anyone else. That night you walked home together and exchanged phone numbers, immediately feeling like back in the days when you would bike around in your neighbourhood and Jessie would be giggling beside you. At first the friendship was platonic, but after a few months of talking and hanging out, you had drunkenly admitted to liking her and when she asked you about it the next morning; there was no room for refusal.

“Oh my god, hold you will ya” Jessie said under her breath as she was jumping on one leg to get her shorts on. She was about to run out to the door when you shot her a look. “Jess, look, I like your tits; they are mine and I would like it to stay that way” you said as you gestured down; she had forgotten to put on a top. She blushed to the color of a tomato and sweared under her breath as she threw on your tank top from last nights fun. As she walked out to sort out whatever was going on, you grabbed your phone. All of out battery, of course. Luckily Jessie had made sure to have a charger at your side of the bed too so you could have access to charging whenever you needed; especially considering you would struggle with sleep. Technically it was her bed, but the side was also technically yours since that was where you’d sleep when you stayed over just like the right side was always her side when she was staying over at yours. You placed down your phone in exchange for a water bottle that Jessie had gotten for you after you had finished your nightly activities. The water was still somewhat cold and it felt soothing going down your sore throat. “Ehm, Y/N/N!” You heard from the front door. “This is all you babe!” You shouted back as you giggled, jumping a little when your phone was finally turning on. Her apartment, her neighbour, her issues. You suddenly stopped dead in your tracks. It was weird, you could swear that you heard a tiny voice. You shook it off and tapped in the code of your SIM card. 3-0-0-1. Then you heard the voice again, slightly concerned as you held your breath trying to figure out what was going on. “I really think this is something that you might wanna sort out, I would love to but I haven’t really met her because you wanted to make sure that we-“ Jessie rambled as you heard her footsteps closing in on the bedroom door. But she was cut off by small sobs and it struck you like lightning. You could recognise those cries a mile away, as they belonged to your Daughter, Clara.

Clara was extremely shy, and was in treatment working to overcome her biggest fear before it could develop into something worse. The only place she didn’t feel shy outside of your home was in when she as playing football. That was where she could let everything go and just play. You has gained guardianship over her when your sister and her husband had tragically passed away during a high speed car accident when Clara was just a baby. You had been the only motherly figure that she’d know since she was 6 months old. Your parents were able to take her as they were getting older and had their own health issues, so you decided there was no other choice but to adopt her honouring your sister’s wishes. Jessie barged in and you could see the panic in her eyes. You’d probably also panic if it wasn’t for the raging headache you had going on in the background. You quickly jumped out of the bed and threw on your shorts and Jessie’s UCLA sweater before you bolted towards the door. There she was, your bestfriend with your little daughter clinging on to her leg. “Mommy” she sobbed as you reached your arms towards her while still walking towards the front door as your daughter ran into your arms clinging to you as if the world was ending. Clara wasn’t good with changes in plans, especially not when the plans was something she had looked forward to. “Hi Ella, what’s uh, sorry, why are you here again?” You asked confused as you had already planned for her and Clara to spend the weekend together while you were with Jessie. You hoisted your daughter up on your hips causing her to relax and lean into your side while placing a hand on your neck. You kissed her head as you held her tight and whispered; “Hi princess, it’s okay, mommy’s got you. You are safe.” The words causing her sobbing to soften. “Hi Y/N, I am so sorry but my brother has gotten into an accident and it’s bad so mom asked me to catch the first flight home. I tried calling you, but I could get through and you weren’t at home, so I had no option but to bring her here or take her with me to Wisconsin which I could but I don’t have her passport.” She said as she had a serious grin on her face. “Oh my god, I’m sorry for not answering. My phone was dead. It’s all good, go be with your family. Tell your mom that I’m seeing her love” you said as she nodded and handed you her little pink backpack with her pink Nike cleats in before running towards the taxi waiting to take her to the airport. You sat your daughter down in Jessie’s couch as your pulled her comfort blanket out of her bag to wrap around her before turning her favourite show on the iPad in hopes that it would distract her enough to let you pack.

Your thoughts raced in sync with your heart as you paced to the bedroom to pick up your stuff in an instant terrified of what Jessie would say. She looked terrified when she came to tell you that your daughter was there, and you knew that it wasn’t the right time. Jessie wouldn’t want to waste her weekend on a kid, let alone a kid that wasn’t hers when she only had a few limited weekends of each year. Clara was also a lot more demanding than your standard kid which meant that it was harder for others to connect with her. There was this tiny voice in your head that were trying to convince you that Jessie would think Clara was too much. This exact thing had happened before and it left both you and your daughter heartbroken when they left because Clara was too much. That day you vowed yourself to never let anyone close to your daughter again. It had worked perfectly until you met Jessie.

You grabbed your bag as you scattered around the room to find all your belongings before Jessie could come out from the en-suite. “Love, what’s going on?” A familiar voice said from behind you making you jump but immediately relax when you felt the warmth of her hands on your waist. “It’s was Ella, she had to go to Wisconsin because her brother was in an accident. So I need to take care of Clara. This has been nice and all but we shouldn’t be bothering you on your weekend off.” You mumbled as you could feel tears burning behind your eyelid while you got out of her grip to find your last missing items. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, I can pretend to be your friend if that makes it easier?” Jessie said as she pulled you into a hug and wrapped her arms around you as if she was a baby koala. “I have told you about how Clara is? She’s very shy, anxious and have big issues with talking to people. I get that she’s challenging, but she’s a good kid. I get-“ your rambling was cut off by Jessie. “If you let me, I’ll gladly spent time with the both of you today darling” she finished as you nodded and a tear rolled down your chin in relief.

“Clara?” You said carefully as you walked towards her making sure not to scare her. She looked up at you and nodded, feeling shy of the unfamiliar house around her. “Mommy, home?” She said with tears in her eyes scared of why she wasn’t home. She didn’t really feel safe in new places, let alone places you couldn’t prepare her for like the psychologist had advised you to. You sat down next to her as you tucked her long brown hair behind her ear making her little earrings show. Earrings she had begged you for since she could talk. “We are not home, that’s right. We are at Jessie’s house. Jessie is mommy’s friend.” You said as you took her into your lap while Jessie sat down next to you. “Do you wanna say hi to Jessie?” You asked as she shoved her head into your sweater and shook her head. You shot an apologetic smile to Jessie, but she mounthed “it’s okay” to you.

—

“Pass it Kiera!” Clara yelled as she ran across with the ball on the field outrunning all the other little girls. «I honestly don’t know where she gets it from, you know. She’s fast and she is very mature.” You said as your eyes watched over your daughter with the bright pink shoes and the bright pink shirt. “She’s a natural, way better than I was her age” Jessie said as she rested her hand on your thigh. In this moment, everything felt perfect. It felt like you were normal. Like any other girl with her partner and their daughter. “Hello miss Y/N, did you finally bring Clara’s mom? Gosh, they look so much alike! I could’ve spotted their bond from a mile away.” Another football mom exclaimed as she sat down. Sure, your daughter had chocolate brown hair and the same warm deep brown eyes as Jessie, but you had never considered their similarities. When you compared them, they were spitting imagine. You had blonde hair and blue eyes just like your sister, qnd none of you had anything close to athletic skills. Your little girl however? She had a gift, a talent and a drive to play. “Something like that, yes” Jessie said as you snapped out of your thoughts. You realised that you forgot to answer the other mom. Crap. Jessie squeezed your hand as you relaxed. “Well, Miss?” The mom continued. “Jessie” your girlfriend said as she smiled towards the woman. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Jessie.”

*4 months later*

You were walking along on the sidewalk with Clara in one hand as you were headed to the park to meet Jessie. She had met your daughter a bunch of times, and it was definitely a process as Clara still refused to talk to Jessie. The issue wasn’t that she didn’t like her, because she did. But she couldn’t get out a word whenever she tried. Jessie on the other hand wasn’t bothered the slightest. She’d talk to Clara, but not expected any response which was making Clara feel safe. “Look princess, it’s Jessie” you said as you pointed towards the Canadian. She looked in the direction and gripped your hand while her feet were shuffling next to you. “What’s in her hand, mom?” She said almost soundlessly as she noticed the gift in Jessie’s hand. “I don’t know, I’ll have to ask her when we get there.” A few minutes later, you were 10 steps from meeting Jessie. Jessie hunched down to be in Clara’s level as you approached. “Hi doll, I got you something!” Jessie said excitedly as Clara’s eyes widened. The box was pink and sparkling with a silver glitter bow on top. Jessie held out the box as Clara held your hand tight. “Do you want me to open the box so you can see what is inside?” Jessie continued patiently as your daughter nodded excitedly. Jessie’s hand pulled the top part of the bow towards Clara and she gestured for her to pull it. Clara’s little hand was still shaky, but she touched the bow as she pulled carefully. “Wow Clara, you are such a smart girl!” Jessie said as she removed the rest of the bow and opened the lid of the box before she held the box out in front of your daughter. Clara peeked into the box and gasped as she covered her mouth with her hand. Her face moved towards you as her eyes were sparkling. Jessie pulled out the gift revealing the tiny little Chelsea jersey with “Fleming” on the back. “See Clara, it has my last name and my number so we can match!” Jessie explained as she flipped the jersey around with a toothy grin. Clara was in awe and her eyes were lit up. It made you melt and it didn’t help when your daughter dropped your hand as she embraced Jessie into a hug. Jessie looked as surprised as you before she carefully wrapped her hand around Clara while the other hand touched her head. Clara pulled away from the hug smiling as she beamed and did a few more excited jumps. “Do you want to try it on?” Jessie asked as Clara instantly nodded. “Can I help you?” Jessie asked as bit hesitant as she feared that she had pushed her too far. Clara took a moment to make up her mind before she nodded and let go of your hand. Her arms reached out as Jessie slipped it over her head. “Maybe you can wear it when you come to see me play on Sunday?” Jessie asked as Clara’s eyes lit up. She had always talked about how she wanted to see Jessie play football on the big field, not just in your backyard. However, she made sure to only tell you. Clara’s gaze shifted towards you as she sent you her best please look without using words. “Yes Clara, we can go watch Jessie play on Sunday.” You confirmed as Clara jumped up and down once again attacking Jessie into a hug causing Jessie to lose her balance and fall to her back from the squat position she was in with Clara giggling on top of her.

*The following Sunday*

“Alright Claramell” you said as you sung her nickname. You had made it up as she loved caramels as a baby. She looked up at your from her little drawing table where she was busy drawing and colouring. “We have to put our jersey on when the timer ends” you said as you stated the timer so she could feel in control and make things easier for everyone included. “Mommy, will Jessie be there?” She asked as she looked up at your with her chocolate labrador eyes. “Yes, Jessie will definitely be there. She is gonna play, and we are gonna watch her! And if you want to, you can walk with her on the field with the other kids like we talked about. That means that you can walk out to the middle of the field with the other team and judges holding Jessie’s hand and then the teams sing. After that, you run back to the tunnel.” Clara nodded as she turned around to keep drawing again drawing as precisely as her hands would allow her. “Okay, Claramell, I’m just gonna get ready in the bathroom” you said as you pressed a kiss to her head and breathed in the balsamspray in her hair.

You got to the bathroom, and hopped in the shower. Your thoughts were quickly wandering around what would happen with Clara on the field. You had told her countless times that she didn’t have to do it, and that she could say no whenever she liked; but once she got in the field, she had to stay with Jessie. All kinds of scenarios took place in your head. The biggest worry of them all would be a full blown panic attack mid stadium in front of thousands of people not being able to get to your little girl. What would Jessie do if that were to happen? Would she leave you? Clara had yet to open up to her and hadn’t spoken a full sentence to her. The warm water washed your worries away as the damp of the water filled the room making it feel somewhat close to a tropical island. The damp hot air felt soothing in your lungs. After thinking and worrying for a bit, you hopped out and dried yourself off. You rummaged through your drawer and found your favourite mascara, some tinted sunscreen, a sheer lipstick and some blush from nars that you got as a teen. Lord knows that all girls has that one old makeup product that dosent compare, and you were no exception. The makeup made your face come alive before you glanced at the clock and realised that it was time. “Clara! It’s time!” You called out as your heard Clara’s little slippers tap on the floor in your direction. “Okay mommy, a bun with long hair” she said as she popped up into the sink in front of her, it was basically routine by now. She would come in and you would do her hair in whatever way she wanted it. Today was a half up half down kinda day, and you were softly brushing through her beautiful brown hair. “Mommy,Jess gonna be there?” She asked as she looked at herself in the mirror with her little feet in the sink. You nodded as you finished doing her hair. “Yes, Jessie will be there” you confirmed as her little brows furrowed. “Promise?” “Pinky promise.”

*2 hours later*

The stadium was huge compared to Clara. She had her little Fleming Jersey on, and she had insisted to wear her bracelet that she made at home a few weeks ago with pink beads. Clara’s hand tightened around yours as she stared at the stadium and the tons of people going in. She looked up at you with fear in her eyes and a stressed look in her little face. “Mommy, carry?” She whispered as you instantly popped her up in your hip wanting to hold her until she refused to be held anymore. People would always scold you for carrying her, but your sister would’ve carried her until she physically couldn’t and you intended to keep her wish alive. She wasn’t gonna want to be carried until she was a teen, so you wanted to make the most of the time you had with her. You followed the instructions that Jessie had given you, finding the side entrance with guards checking id’s towards a database with invited and pre-register people only. It was fairly quick as there was a significant difference in the amount of people that were at the special entrance.

When you got through the area you followed the signs until you found a room where the mascots were waiting. Clara was intimidated by the amount of children and adults and causing her to cling to you like cling wrap. “You can always say no, and nobody will be upset Claramell” you whispered as she nodded. She had insisted on bringing her pink purse in the shape of a heart with what she said was important things. Usually that would include her fake keys, a lip balm and a snack. After a few minutes, a women came to get you leading you through the big corridors of the gigantic stadium. You were looking at all the tapestry on the walls with pictures of the players in action. “Mommy, mommy, it’s Jess” your daughter whispered as she wiggled out of your arms and bolted towards Jessie. “Is it my two favourite girls coming to see me play? How lucky am I!” Jessie said picking Clara up as she spun her around and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Clara nodded and placed her hand on Jessie’s chest for safety. You greeted Jessie as you had a wide grin on your face from seeing your daughter and your girlfriend together. Jessie held Clara tight and it relaxed you knowing that she was doing what she could to make her feel safe. “Alright, walk on in 2!” A guy with a big headset yelled out in the tunnel. Clara seemed to get somewhat startled of his sudden loud voice. Her little heart beating like crazy in her chest. “Alright, Clara, we are gonna go out there in front of all those people while you hold my hand and then we will sing. Afterwards, you can run to mommy or I can carry you there.” Jessie said as she placed Clara down. Clara nodded attentively as Jessie unzipped her team jacket that Jessie had gotten for the occasion. You bent down and kissed Clara’s cheek as she smiled back at you. You had to go to the back of the line as the players were about to enter which Clara didn’t seem to mind. Her little hand held onto Jessie’s as they both turned around to wave at you. She seems excited, and she seemed like she felt safe with Jessie. Her curious eyes were wandering around the tunnel and towards the opening of it towards the cameras. The loud league music started on the field and the referees started walking on followed by the lot of the players in two lines. Just before Jessie and Clara was supposed to move out, Clara stalled. You could see Clara tensing up. Her little shoulders rising towards her ears. Her head turned towards you and you saw her eyes becoming glassy. Her lip was going from a pout to a wobble. Her eyebrows furrowed in a tense frown. Her chest moving slightly heavier than usual.

Your pulse immediately went up and you felt a need to scoop her up before this escalated. Was this gonna end in yet another breakdown? Would this trigger her anxiety? How were you gonna get a hold of her? And worst of all; was this gonna embarrass Jessie enough to want to end it with you?

#woso imagine #woso x reader #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming

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gingerjolover · 3 months

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The Love Nest - Julien Baker x young!gf

read the blurb here!

synopsis: young!soft!gf has a bad day but julien is always there to make it better

g's notes: oh heyyyy.... this is a small installment in the controversially young!gf universe, she is lowkey soft!gf coded - i am really going to try and push out more fics now that things are falling into place for me and my life doesn't feel so out of control :-)

warnings: RPF, age gap (both consenting adults!), young!gf is 20?? in this fic, bad day vibes:/, talks of internet bullying, smoochin/lovin/the works, no fundamental physical descriptors except hair that can be tucked behind ear??

The frantic succession of pings had woken Julien up from her post-studio haze, her body half laying on the couch when the panicked texts came in. She didn't even hesitate to get up, changing out of her recording clothes into a pair of boxers and a big t-shirt, moving around the house like a zombie, the routine is one she could do with her eyes closed.

20 minutes later, she sits on the porch, messy hair and slippers on, half exposed to the neighbors by the gaps in her landscaping. She's only lived in the house a few months, having narrowed down what she wanted right around the time you both fell in love almost 8 months ago. It's a small Spanish-style home, close enough to her friends but far enough away from the city that she doesn't feel suffocated. Phoebe relentlessly teased her about the renovations she made, "Oh, so your girlfriend gets to choose the color of your backsplash... it's a love nest!" she had squealed, poking Julien's side as Lucy and Jo admired the palette you had chosen for her kitchen.

She'd hated the teasing, the constant (but loving) making fun of how she worships the ground you walk in, bending to every whim needed to make you happy. Her friends could see it was reciprocated, having finally gotten to know you enough to feel comfortable teasing you about your relationship, your skin thickening with every lousy comment, but smiling at everything from Julien's friend's mouth, laced with admiration for you.

It scares Julien, despite being on the same page about your love, often having deep talks before bed about how the love between you feels like the only thing to ever exist; it scares her just how much she loves you. There's something natural about you flittering around her house, an old ratty band tee adorning your figure as Julien playfully mocks you about not knowing the song blasting throughout the house despite it singlehandedly getting her through her sophomore year of college.

But the best thing, the most natural thing of all, is seeing you pull up into the driveway. Julien envisions when you're done with school, following your dreams full time, and coming home to her every night. Normally, she'd stand on the porch, smiling wide and staring dreamily at you as you park your car. The dog at her feet would wag his tail, ready to pounce when your Converse hits the first step.

But the dreamy eyes are replaced with concern today. She can see your blotchy cheeks through the windshield, eyes bloodshot and streaming. "Oh shit," she mumbles under her breath; every nerve ending is on fire, worry flowing through her veins as she makes her way down the steps to you.

You've barely parked the car before flinging the door open, jumping out, and rushing into her arms. She catches you with ease, one hand moving to support your bottom as you wrap your legs around her, the other tight on your back.

"Hi baby," Julien murmurs, lips pressed to your cheek, your skin warm and damp. Your tears leak down Julien's neck, her hand rubbing up and down your back over your t-shirt, hot and sticky from the sweat, no doubt a result of your anxiety.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, rubbing your nose against her skin as she walks you back to the steps.

"You never need to say sorry for coming here, you know that." She gave you a comforting squeeze before walking you to the porch, the soft glow from inside the house and a few small lights outside were enough to illuminate the whole yard, a warm glow in the incoming darkness.

"Careful buddy, be gentle, mama's sad," Julien says gently, sitting you both down as her dog excitedly moves to you, as if knowing you need comfort, licking your cheek, pawing at your back.

A small giggle and a succession of pets give Julien some hope, her eyes watching your face. Cheeks flushed and puffy, eyes brightened by tears, lips bitten and red, you look so innocent and clearly hurt, but despite it all, approach everything with kindness and gentleness.

“I just needed to see you and I know you have an early session in the morning and I’m not supposed to be here until Thursday but I—“ you start to ramble, knowing that you and Julien both have strict schedules.

"Baby... breathe. It's okay, okay? You're here and safe," Julien says softly, seeing your eyes descend into panic once again when trying to be considerate of her schedule. Julien presses kisses into the crown of your hair, mumbling against the skin, "Besides, I missed you, except I hate seeing you sad, so talk to me; what's happening?" Julien says, pulling away, thumb coming to wipe away tears under your eyes.

“Everything that could’ve gone wrong today went wrong, and I’m so tired,” you breathe out, almost like you couldn't get oxygen back into your lungs. The sobs start up quickly again, heading towards dangerous territory quickly.

Julien's worried frown deepens slightly, but she squeezes you reassuringly. This wasn't good. Not at all. You were usually a ray of sunshine, but the way you breathed out, having such a pessimistic view, sounded... it sounded terrible. She rubbed her thumb against your back in a gentle rhythm. "Slow down. What happened?"

You let out some shuddering breaths, sobs broken up between sniffles before you explain, “I slept through my alarm which I never do, so I missed my meeting with my manager, and then on my way to class my smoothie spilled all over my bag and laptop, and thankfully I backed it up b-but I need a new one, a-and I haven’t gotten the checks from my shop yet so I’m stressing about rent and then all of my paints dried out so I couldn't even work, and my lunch ended up being spoiled so I haven't eaten and I walked to my car after class and there was a fucking p-parking ticket and then when I got home and tried to shower a-and the water was ice cold, and then I stupidly went on instagram and I just—“ you sob gently, all your words like mush, coming in out in only a few breaths.

The more details you explained, the more worried Julien's expression grew. This was a bad day. Worse than most. Her brow furrowed as she took it all in, a frown settling. She kept stroking your back gently as she pulled you in closer, legs interlocking as you sat on the steps. "Okay. Okay. One thing at a time. You don't have to worry about rent. I've got you. Let's just breathe for a sec and figure all of it out…"

“And I failed that stupid philosophy test! He’s making me retake it because my answers were “plagiarized,” according to Turnitin,” you cry out, the elective you were so excited to take because your girlfriend's enthusiasm is a main stress point this semester.

"Hey, hey, let's not worry about that right now. We can deal with your philosophy professor later. Right now, you just need to take some slow breaths, okay?" Julien's voice was soothing; she gently rocked you as she spoke. "Now… the laptop. You said you backed everything up?"

"Yeah, I- but I have so much homework due on Thursday and I— I won't have time to get a new one or even have time to go to the library,” you whine gently, leaning into Julien's affections.

"Hey, look at me." Julien holds your chin gently but sternly; she looks more serious now as she speaks. "You don't need to worry about all of that tonight. You're not going to the library. You'll have some dinner, then we'll crawl into bed and watch a movie, and you can just rest, okay? We'll figure all of that stuff out tomorrow."

“I— I don’t have the time, and I—" you try to explain, tears coming down faster.

The gentle tone in Julien's voice disappears as she shakes her head. "Princess, listen to me." She looks at you firmly and takes your hands into hers, her thumb rubbing your ring finger softly. "You can skip the library. You can tell your manager everything's all right. You can fail one test. You can sleep. We will figure out the laptop situation tomorrow, and everything will be okay. You're safe here, okay? I'm not gonna let anything happen to you right now. You're just gonna relax. I'll take care of everything else."

"But the parking ticket-" you sob softly, cheeks heating in embarrassment.

"I'll deal with that tomorrow." Her tone was more definitive, her eyes locked into yours. "You can just focus on getting some rest right now. Okay? I promise it's gonna be okay."

Julien searches your eyes, watching you nod. Her heart cracks when she sees the tears streaming down, a more profound pain behind your eyes. Her face fell instantly, her hands touching your cheeks as she pressed her forehead to yours. She breathes with you, trying to figure out how to approach what's clearly not a bad day but a breaking point. She gently strokes your hair, "You wanna tell me what's really bothering you, sweet girl?" Julien speaks softly.

“Why are you with me? You’re like— older and successful and isn’t this just— all so stupid, I mean I’m in college and I—“ you whispers, your words riddled with shame as you stare into her brown eyes, feeling small.

Julien's stomach drops; that definitely wasn't a response she was expecting. All of their friends joke about it, but you've never asked the question directly like this. Her mind reeled of every interaction she had witnessed that your relationship was the topic of conversation, wondering which comment was the nail in the coffin, one she didn't even know you had been preparing. She hesitates for a long moment, her brows furrowed. Her expression grows tender again as she pulls you into a hug and squeezes you softly. "Because I love you. And I'm proud of you. And I'm here to support you with everything."

“You shouldn’t have to deal with all of this; it’s all— childish, you’re like—taking care of me,” you say sadly, sniffling again. Julien notices specific language, the rhetoric not like your own, it sounds like a direct comment and not a narrative you've created for yourself.

Julien's eyes widened as she listened; she definitely heard those exact comments on social media, blocking most of it out for the sake of your relationship. "You're not childish. I'm not taking care of you. We're a partnership. We're taking care of each other. You take care of me too. Everything's gonna be ok," she says sternly but gently, tucking some hair behind your ear. "Can I ask you something?" she says softly.

"Mhm," Julien smiles softly at your hum, thumb rubbing your cheek gently. "Did something else happen today? Did someone say something about our relationship? Or have you been reading comments again?" Julien's eyebrows knit together in worry as she looks into your eyes. The trolls were nasty enough as it is. The thought that you might have been rereading their bullshit was heartbreaking.

You look into her eyes guiltily, bottom lip between your teeth as you open your mouth, but nothing can come out, just a sheepish blush crossing your cheeks.

"Sweetheart..." Julien groans, her voice more concerned now. She takes your hands and holds them more tightly in her own. "That's a terrible idea; we've talked about this, okay? You know not to read those comments. They don't know anything about you or us. They're just assholes with a keyboard."

"I couldn't help it, I-" you whine softly, dropping your head low to hide from any disappointing looks Julien might shoot your way.

"Look at me, come on." Juliens pulls your chin up, tilting it so her eyes meet yours. Her expression is soft as she strokes your cheek. "These trolls are just miserable people who have nothing better to do than make other people miserable. We've discussed this: you can't let their opinions take over your life. You can't let them affect you like this."

“I just— had such a bad day and I felt like I couldn’t get my emotions under control and— I just was on there for fun I swear, but then I saw the post from Saturday that Katie posted of us and some of the comments were just so mean, and I started to wonder why you would wanna deal with me? Deal with all of this stuff when you graduated like 6 years ago and I don’t have my shit together, I’m not even 21 so—“ you start to ramble, getting worked up again as the panic floods your chest.

"Hey. Look at me." Julien's voice is gentle as she strokes your hair, holding you close. "I'm not dealing with anything. It's called being in a relationship. There's nothing to deal with. What other people think doesn't matter, remember? Not a damn thing. All that matters to me is that you're here. With me. That's it."

Julien cant help but look down, your lips in cute small pout. She smiles lightly as she wipes your cheeks, kissing your lips quickly.

"Promise me you won't read through that garbage anymore, okay? You know it isn't good for you. It's not good for us. We're good. Just us. Don't let them get in your head. And you never have to justify why you're with me. That's not how this works."

You nod gently, chest lighter at Julien's reassurances. The heavy weight of people's comments still weighs on you, knowing this is something to discuss later, but for now, having Julien dote on you is enough.

Julien's lips curl into a soft smile as she brings her forehead up to yours, eyes still locked into one another's. She whispers softly, "That's my girl. You're gonna rest and I'll deal with the parking ticket and everything else. Okay?"

You nod softly, thanking everything in the universe for the woman sitting before you. You lean in, kissing Julien's cheeks a few times, the corner of her mouth, and then her lips.

Julien hums when you kiss her, your soft lips against her chapped ones. Julien's smile grows wider, her eyes gleaming softly in the dim glow of the porch light, the sun almost set. She closes her eyes and lets out a happy sigh as she pulls your body closer, wrapping her arms tightly around you.

"Are you happy?" you mumble out, tone laced with insecurity, silently face-palming yourself for how you sounded.

Julien's expression grows soft as her hands rub up and down your back, those words tugging at her heartstrings just a bit. She swallows before her voice comes out gentle and sincere, "I am the happiest I've been in a very long time, baby."

Julien's arms wrap tighter around you, and she pulls you into her lap, her lips meeting yours gently and tenderly. Her hands hold your head, mouths softly brushing together, the warmth of your breaths mingling against and into one another's.

She can't help but giggle when you pull away, cheeks flushed and your face moving to her neck. "Can we shower?" you mumble against her skin, Julien's hand rubbing your leg softly.

The blush spreads further up Julien's cheek as she leans in to kiss the top of your head. "Of course we can, pretty girl. I want to get you all cozy," Julien says softly, placing you back on the step as she pats the dog's head, quickly stepping down and towards the car.

She moves to grab your overnight bag, favorite pillow, and purse. Carrying the items in one hand, she locks the car and walks back towards the house, sticking out her opposite hand.

"Thank you," you murmur, kissing her cheek as you grab her hand. "S'no biggie, baby," Julien smiles softly, pushing you through the door first, locking up behind her, and following you straight up the stairs.

You make their way upstairs to the bathroom. The bathroom is dark, except for the light from the bedside lamp nearby that casts an orange-yellow glow. Julien runs the shower, watching you slip into the tub with a small smile. The shower is quick, like any other, Julien tending to you gently. She washes your hair and massages your scalp as you rest against her, a low song coming from her lips.

Wrapped in a fluffy towel, Julien grabs a pair of pajamas from your drawer in her room. Her hands move gently as she works lotion into your back, attempting to relieve the tight muscles in your overworked body. She kisses your neck and shoulders as she moves, her eyes locking into yours in the mirror, her expression so loving and caring, just wanting you to feel better.

“Thank you,” Julien's eyes shine brightly when she sees your soft, tired expression, your sweet thank you music to her ears. She pulls you closer to her chest, rubbing her thumb against your cheek gently and kisses your forehead. "You're welcome. You wanna order food?” Julien mumbles against your skin.

“Mhm, only had half a smoothie today."

Julien's eyes glow softly with admiration as she watches you lean into her. She kisses your forehead again and hums soothingly. “That’s not good,” she breathes, running her fingers through your wet hair. "Poor baby. You wanna lie down in bed while I order? I promise I'll be quick?"

“Yeah,” you say, eyes closing as you allow yourself to enjoy Julien's tender touch.

Julien's smile grows a little more, rubbing your back reassuringly. She pulls out her phone and pulls up the delivery app, watching you cross into the bedroom. She also moves into the bedroom, turning on the bedside lamp and pulling the curtains across the window, dimming everything to a soft, cozy glow. The room is warm and tranquil, any space in Julien's house can achieve this with just a few alterations.

As you snuggle into bed, reaching for the remote, Julien crosses in front of the TV to plug in your heating pad, setting it across your lap.

Juliens watches your face, taking in your exhausted expression, puffy eyes, and the way you're sunken deep into the blankets. Her soft, loving look changes into a teasing one, she can't help but to gently nuzzle her face into your hair as she leans down to you. "I know it was a hard day, baby, but try not to fall asleep before the food gets here," she whispers softly and playfully.

You squint back teasingly, “What’re you ordering?”

"Probably from that Thai place? That okay? That coconut curry could do you some good... it should warm you up and ease those muscles too."

“Is that the one that Phoebe got for me last time?”

"Yeah... think so," Julien's tone reflects the fond memories of Phoebe and Lucy trying to impress you and how cute and sweet it all was to them. "She said she did a little research for the best spot in town. It was so nice of her to do that, wasn't it? The food was really good too."

“Yeah, it was good. I haven't had it since that time with them, like 6 months ago," you say, looking up at Julien as she stands next to the bed, one knee resting on the mattress.

"That’s when I thought Phoebe and Lucy hated me,” you snort softly.

"Oh, definitely not. Lucy and Phoebe are probably both a little in love with you if you want the truth." Julien's tone is teasing; she knows how much her bandmates and best friends appreciate you, even if you don't see it yourself. Her tone grows kinder and softer as she continues. "Phoebe just wanted to feel out the vibe and get to know you better,” Julien says.

Julien's expression softens as she rubs her thumb against your mouth, arm sticking out in front of her, "Yeah, they were probably a little skeptical of you when they first met you. I don’t think they were sure what to make of you."

“Was because of my age, right?” you ask softly, eyes shining with insecurity when the 7-year age gap reappears.

Julien's expression grows warm and apologetic, feeling a lot of guilt over your anxiety about the age difference. She sits on the edge of the bed, tattooed hands running up and down your leg reassuringly. "That may have played a bit of a role, but honestly? I think there was a bit of jealousy there, too. You’re smart, pretty, and funny, and I was pretty smitten instantly. I think they might have felt a little threatened by you," Julien says with a twinkle in her eye, her smile moving to the side with jest.

“Shut up, Jay,” you groan, covering your face with your hands as you lean back into the pillow.

Juliens chuckles slightly at your reaction. "What, it may have been true. I mean, have you seen you?" Julien says playfully, pinching your cheek playfully.

“Flattery will get you nowhere."

Julien's playful expression grows a bit more mischievous. "Oh, it'll get me somewhere, alright. I have a certain spot in mind for that flattery." Juliens nuzzles her into your neck, leaning over you, her body half off the bed, as her lips land near your ear. "You know which one I mean."

“Jules!” you laugh loudly, pushing her off.

Julien's grin grows even wider as she's pushed off of you, leaning back toward you, kissing your lips playfully. "Sorry, angel, I can't help myself. I see a pretty girl, and my hands get a little excited."

You cock one eyebrow up at Juliens use of “a pretty girl”. Julien's eyes narrow playfully at your reaction knowing she's been called out for her choice of words here.

"Okay, okay, fine. I see my really, really, incredibly stunningly gorgeous girlfriend, and I just can't help myself. Better?" Julien chuckles.

“Better."

Julien moves to finish ordering the food, patting your leg quickly before going downstairs to get her laptop to try and get some of the things that went wrong in your day sorted. She lays on the bed, resting against the headboard, your back slightly towards her as you focus on the TV. One of her hands moves back into a gentle massage on your back, trying to relax you, your muscles still somewhat tense.

Julien works on setting up an appointment at the Apple store to get you a new laptop, highlighting and noting which options would be best for your current needs. She also makes sure to transfer enough money for your portion of your rent, knowing you will pay her back as soon as you get paid. And you didn't ask, she knows you would do it eventually, but she goes ahead and orders some replacement paint (and a few other things on your wishlist), knowing you need to get prints done.

Julien's fingers move up to your scalp, trying to commit to memory to ask you tomorrow about the parking ticket information so she can pay it as soon as possible. Her fingers move rhythmically, each stroke a gentle massage of your head. She hums softly as she continues, her eyes moving back and forth between the TV and her phone, watching the delivery time on the door dash.

Her fingers slow down and stop in place for a moment, taking a deep breath and realizing despite the hardships, she's never been more fulfilled and content. She can’t help but smile with tender affection as her mind is filled with thoughts of the girl in her bed, this sweet, smart girl who's taken up an unexpected home in her heart.

“Can I take a power nap?” you mumble, already half asleep, Julien's tattooed fingers to blame.

"You want to take a little power nap until the food gets here?" She asks with a smirk, lifting her arm and widening it, a signal beckoning you to her side.

“Mhm,” you nod, moving on your side and snuggling into Julien.

Julien's face is loving as she watches you settle into her side. She pulls a bit of the blanket over both of you, "Go on, baby, take your nap. I'll watch out for the food."

g's notes: does this suck? i feel like its somehow so long and yet nothing is happening lol

g's notes again: yes its 1 am, i- i don't have an excuse actually

#julien baker x reader #boygenius x reader #julien baker fluff #julien baker x fem!reader #controversially young!gf universe #julien baker x young!gf #julien baker x soft!gf

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poppy-metal · 6 months

Note

bully upperclassman jordan is AGH, but i raise you simp upperclassman jordan that hates the fact that they have been daydreaming about the sweet and kind new freshman that just!! smiles all the time and is so fun to be around and why the fuck do they want to bend her over the table in front of everyone and show you what an older and more experienced upperclassman can do to you, marking their territory almost as if saying "this one is mine"- and then you are asking them oh so sweetly and gently where the class of fucking-something they didn't catch is, and hey they might as well walk you there you are so cute and innocent and lovely... there are bad people that could put you in danger

oh im gonna be so ill and and and

they truly try to be irritated by you at first but they melt like butter the instant you look to them for guidance. maybe it feeds their ego, your admiration, but that doesn't explain the fluttering of their heart then. the way they want to stand behind you, because god dammit, you keep bending over to pick up things you dropped and theres no way they're letting people check out your ass - they might, though. they definitely do. the way they want to tuck your hair behind your ear when it falls loose, the way they can't stop wondering what your lipgloss tastes like. having a crush on their underclassmen is downright humiliating, but they're too far in by the time they realize to fight it.

soon enough, you're the person they text the most, hang out with the most, jordan fucking li caught up in some freshmans orbit, and its even worse because you're fucking oblivious to the way you're driving them up a fucking wall. turning to them and leaning in close, real close, close enough jordan can see the exact shade of your eyes, down to the color code, to ask "i bought a new perfume! smell test?" inching closer and their hand twitches at their side because you're so naive and dumb and sweet and just because they're in their fem form right now its like you think you can get away with acting like this, being this intimate and facing no consequences.

so they decide to teach you a lesson, and they do lean in, further than you thought they would, a ringed hand comes up to keep you steady, warm on your hip as they brush their nose along the pulse in your neck. heat floods your veins immediately, at the sensuality of the gesture, to anyone else it'd look like they're mouthing at your neck, leaving a mark. they pull back, "smells like fucking candy." they let that sit for awhile, flipping through the pages of their notebook, then they add. "i like it."

the praise works like sunlight over frost, melting you quick and easy till your flushed and pleased and fiddling with your fingers in your lap. "t - thanks."

"mm."

if they had to deal with the unrelenting torture of falling for a freshman, they'd make it hell for you too.

#ask #jordan li x reader #upperclassmen!jordan

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nakahras · 4 months

Text

᯽ fireworks • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • it’s the first time seeing chuuya after meursault. he left without a word and came back without a word. alternatively, the first time you tell chuuya you love him.

warnings • lower case is intentional, depictions of overstimulation/anxiety/panic attack, cursing, reader has an ability (description below), and fem!reader

wc • 2.8k

a/n • chuuya fluff my beloved <3

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽

ability • ravalry: allows its user to read the thoughts of someone through their emotions. the user can also push thoughts onto a target as well as emotions. this can cause the target to experience hallucinations both visual and auditory. it can also cause the target to feel certain emotions against their own will. the user, if not careful, can become overwhelmed by others’ thoughts and emotions themself.

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽

you watch as the night sky ignites into every color under the rainbow. the firework show from tonight’s festivities had been going on for almost 15 minutes now. almost all of the ada members had decided to participate. hell, even dazai caved and dressed in his best traditional clothes at the request - begging really - of atsushi. but even dazai’s participation couldn’t convince you to stay.

crowds had never agreed with you. they were noisy and it always felt suffocating. but there wasn’t a lack of effort, thanks to atsushi and dazai’s puppy dog eyes. it was comical considering those two boys are the most cat coded people you have ever met in your life. atsushi being a literal tiger at times. but unfortunately you only lasted a total of 67 minutes before your ability made everything extremely overwhelming.

even under fukuzawa’s “all men are created equal” you had a bad habit of subconsciously activating your ability and becoming far too overwhelmed by everyone else's thoughts to turn it off. dazai was able to stay back with you and use his own ability to calm you down. you were obviously grateful but you didn’t want to keep pulling him to you every time it happened.

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽

“do i get a reward for helping out my fellow ada member?” dazai’s voice was as light as ever, obviously he had been trying to make light of your situation.

this was the first time in a long time he had come out with everyone, the first time he came out since meursault, which was also a reminder that you still hadn’t heard from a certain gravity manipulator since arriving back in yokohama. you didn’t want to ruin the fun for everyone just because of your heightened emotions and constant loss of control. it wasn’t fair to anyone, most of all dazai.

you smiled meekly at the brunette. you could see it in the way his eyes dulled, that he’d already known what you were about to say, you said it anyway. “how about i reward you with the rest of the night off? i’m not cut out for these crowds. think i’m just gonna head to the empty pier and watch the fireworks from there.”

you started to back away but dazai persistently followed. “c’mon, you can’t possibly be upset over that shr-“

“dazai.” you’d promptly cut him off, not wanting to admit to yourself, let alone dazai that you were upset. especially considering the reason.

dazai throws his hands up in surrender with a wicked smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes — although, dazai’s smiles almost never did. you’re unamused and frankly tired, so your own mask had cracks in it. dazai, ever the observant, immediately drops the cheery facade and mumbles something under his breath.

something along the lines of, “that damn slug, ruining everything by running late…” you choose to ignore the cryptic way dazai says that and instead waved.

“tell everyone i said to have a good night.”

and with that you left. not even giving dazai a chance to respond as you had already turned to leave mid sentence.

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽

that’s how you find yourself here, sitting at the edge of the pier, knees tucked snugly into your chest as you lay your cheek on them to look up at the sky. your mind was a storm of noise but luckily the fireworks were louder. that didn’t stop you from feeling a very prominent presence approaching.

you tense, instantly recognizing his presence. it takes every ounce of self control you have to keep your head in place and not look his way. your arms tighten around your legs and it’s the only indication you give him that you’re aware he’s there. you can feel his stare, his eyes bore into the back of your head, it felt as if he continued to stare he would start to make a dent in your skull.

still, you continue to look forward and ignore his presence. the noise from the fireworks may be deafening but you’re so honed in on the redhead behind you his defeated sigh is hard to miss. he tentatively shuffles his way next to you and remains standing. you vaguely notice from your peripheral, that he isn’t in his usual dark clothing. instead you note flashes of red, gold and white. your eyebrows furrow. was he wearing a haori? which means he must be wearing a montsuki haori hakama? he never wore traditional clothing. you were itching to look over at how gorgeous he must look but resist the urge yet again.

you continue to refuse to acknowledge his presence.

another sigh.

more silence on your end.

this time he clicks his tongue, but it’s more in defeat rather than annoyance. “that damn mackerel texted me. told me he couldn’t do the one simple task i asked of him. last time i ask him for anything…” the last part of his sentence broke on into a grumble, obviously thinking out loud more than talking to you.

there’s still no verbal response from you, although your face does twist into a scowl. so that’s what dazai meant earlier. chuuya was supposed to meet you all at the festival. to what? surprise you? you didn’t want to wait for a surprise. he knew how much you loathed surprises. you just wanted him back. you wanted to confirm for yourself that he was safe.

the port mafia executive is observing you. he watches as shadows of colors provided by the fireworks dance across your face, causing you to look 10x more strikingly beautiful than you already do. you’re quite literally the most stunning thing chuuya has ever laid his eyes on. he wants to tell you so. he wants to gush over how much he missed you. he wants to hold you. but he needs you to acknowledge him first and he knows you have an opinion about meursault that you deserve to voice. the problem lies in getting you to open yourself up. next to being the most stunning, you’re also the most stubborn person he has ever met. he has his work cut out for him.

“i was gonna surprise you at the festival…” of course he was, you almost scoff at the predictability of it all.

another sigh escapes chuuya’s lips when once again he doesn’t get a response. he knows he shouldn’t poke at you. but at this point he doesn’t know how else he could elicit a reaction. he ponders on it for a moment, nervously gnawing at his bottom lip. this could get you to open up but it could also make you more upset. he makes his decision and takes in a deep breath.

“i wanted to surprise you. i thought about you a lot while i was gone. the thought of coming back to you was about the only thing that kept me sane while having to deal with that damn dazai.” his last words come out bitter, as if he truly had been suffering.

you try to keep face. gritting your teeth and sinking your nails into the palm of your hands. but the cracks in your mask were already too far gone, it snaps completely off. your head swiftly lifts and turns to finally look at him.

and god how unfair. it’s so incredibly unfair how handsome he sincerely looks. his face isn’t covered by his hat and hair is tied by an ornamental string. the reds and greens and golds of his outfit really bring out the duel colors of his eyes. even frowning like he is, he is still a shining star in a sky full of clouds.

you have to remind yourself to keep your resolve as you scowl at the redhead. unbeknownst to you, chuuya is having a very similar crisis. you look like the most priceless treasure on this god forsaken planet. the gold hair ornament you wear frames your face perfectly. the colors of your traditional wear compliments your skin tone perfectly. even your makeup, which subtly matches your outfit, is perfect. you are perfect.

your sour expression is what brings him back to reality.

you let out an appalled scoff. “you thought of me? i find that hard to believe considering you made the decision to go along with dazai’s plan without warning. do you know how messed up i was? thinking you could be dead upon hearing you had been turned into a vampire. i thought i was never going to see you again because you didn’t tell me- i didn’t know. and then when you do return i don’t hear a single thing from you? not even a text saying ‘hey, shit is crazy at the port mafia but i will see you as soon as i can. just wanted to let you know i was safe.’ i would have been happy with that, chuuya.”

he flinches at how harsh his name sounds coming from your mouth. like you had to physically force it out. you never called him by his name. it was always a pet name of some sort. it was truly heart wrenching that he had pushed you to this point. it was never his intention. with everything going on he didn’t realize that maybe he should have communicated dazai’s plan with you, but he can’t change that now. what he needs to focus on is fixing his mistake. so, he listens to you and let’s you get it all out.

“...instead you continued to leave me in the dark. i had to continue on like i wasn’t a wreck, not knowing where you were. do you know how many times i imagined you were just dead somewhere in a foreign prison? too many times to count on my hands. dazai-” you choke, not having realized that you had started to cry. you swallow thickly and continue. “dazai had to constantly be on watch because i would lose control of my ability over the smallest of things. despite being exhausted, i refused to bring myself to imagine a world without you in it. no matter how much i was spiraling, it jus wasn’t something i could bear the thought of because-”

you’re cut off again, this time by a sob that you can feel throughout your entire body. you choke again, feeling like you can’t breathe. your eyes unfocus, your hearing goes fuzzy and your limbs begin to feel numb and tingly. in your panicked haze you briefly note that you’re reaching out and latch onto some sort of soft material. the colors igniting the night sky become overwhelming so you squeeze your eyes shut. you wish you could drown out the booming noises created by the fireworks. it’s all too much, it’s been too much. your ears are ringing and your hands are trembling. the emotions swirling inside of you begging to be let out but you hold them in, not wanting chuuya to be affected. you’re nauseous, you feel as though you could throw up at any moment.

chuuya knew you got like this, he’s heard dazai recount the times this ability has caused you to overwhelm yourself and initiate a panic attack. your grip on his haori was unexpected until he saw the sheer trepidation swimming in your glistening eyes. his body reacts before his mind can and he’s scooping you into his arms. chuuya softly cradles your head, gently resting your forehead against the side of his chest where his heart lays. he’d seen somewhere that the sound of a heartbeat could calm this sort of episode. he also coos and and speaks soft words of reassurance.

it’s absurd how calming just his presence is to you, even when you’re this irate with him. you need to regulate your breathing. fast. the ringing in your ears has subsided and the thrumming of chuuya’s heart pulls you in. hyper focusing on his heartbeat helps calm you further and your breathing slows back to normal. your face is still buried in his chest and your hands are fisting his kimono. your grip loosens, signaling that you’re better. but you burrow your face further into the gravity manipulator's chest. he lets out a deep chuckle that sends vibrations through your entire head. it helps clear the fog that has built up in your head.

you utter those three words you’d been holding in since before he left. it’s like you had finally broken the dam within your heart and this was the result. now that the water has settled you have one last thing to do. but because you were so close to his chest the words came out muffled and unintelligible.

“my pretty doll, i can’t understand you when your face is covered like that. c’mere…” chuuya lets out another chuckle as you whine and pout dramatically when he peels you off of him. your face is puffy and eyes rimmed red. somehow your makeup managed to stay completely intact, you’ll have to remember to ask naomi what she used.

you huff and try to look away but he gently, yet firmly, takes hold of your face to gingerly wipe away at your tears. once he’s pleased with his work his eyes meet yours and he smiles softly. “now, what was it you were trying to say? i think i should be able to here you clearly this time.”

and something about the way he says that makes you think he actually heard it the first time and just simply wanted to hear you say it again. you turn your nose up at him and eye him suspiciously. “no. i don’t think i will…”

chuuya sighs incredulously and lets go of your face. he slumps down and rests his forehead on your shoulder. instinctively you raise your hand and sift your fingers through his wavy tresses. his hair is always surprisingly soft. you can help but to smile amusedly at his obvious defeat. you look back up to the fireworks that were still going. they must be nearing the finale because the amount of colors dancing in the sky have multiplied.

“stubborn as hell like always. i shouldn’t be surprised.” chuuya lifts his head back up and cups your cheek to turn you back to look at him. “you technically said it first, but i’ll let you hear it first. i love you.”

your lips part to respond but you find yourself mesmerized by the chuuya’s eyes. the reflection of colors swirling in his irises make it look like an actual fire has been ignited underneath them. your bottom lip begins to tremble as you feel yourself become overwhelmed by the feelings his words elicit. this time it was in the best way possible but it still made you embarrassed. you take in a shuddered breath and pout more. “god damn you, chuuya nakahara.”

with that utterance, you lean in and your lips meet his. you pour everything you have into that one kiss, hoping it explains your feelings better than any words you could ever string together would. luckily for you, chuuya has always been a firm believer of actions speak louder than words. he understands what you’re trying to convey and he reciprocates by grasping the back of your head and tilting his to deepen the kiss.

it felt as if you were falling into an abyss that consisted of only chuuya. your brain was simultaneously working in overdrive and malfunctioning all at once. the only thing in your head was chuuya.

it was only chuuya:

chuuya’s velvety hair

chuuya’s blazing warmth

chuuya’s soft lips

chuuya’s heavenly scent

chuuya’s gentle touches

chuuya.

then he chuckles against your lips and, god, you could just melt.

much to your dismay, chuuya goes and ruins it by leaning back and disconnecting your lips. you make a noise of protest but he keeps you firmly where you are. your eyes are lidded and breathing is heavy. he could sense how overwhelmed you were once again becoming. he gives you a few moments to fully cone back to him before speaking again.

you open your mouth to say it again but he interrupts. “you don’t have to, i understood you the first time.”

your mouth slowly shuts and you lean your head back on his chest, ear pressed against his beating heart. you both look up, hoping to enjoy the rest of the fireworks together.

“i’m still upset and this conversation isn’t over, but…” you trail off as the finale begins. after another moment you continue as you watched the colors multiply once again. “let’s just enjoy this. i missed you.”

his grip around you tightens. you look over to him and he’s smiling brightly at you. “i missed you, so damn much. we can go back to my place after this and talk over a bottle. how’s that sound?”

you look back to the sky with a smile playing on your lips. “sounds like heaven.”

#chuuya x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya x you #bsd x you #chuuya x fem!reader #fem!reader #᯽. éli originals

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pandorafairy · 1 year

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The Sully's in American Public School

Lo’ak:

Wears Nike Jordan's and sweatshirts

Snapchats Tsireya in class: “So wyd?” “Wanna meet at the gym in 5?” “U look cute today”

Takes the hall pass to go to the bathroom and never goes back to class

Attempts to make thirst traps and TikTok’s in said bathroom

Makes fun of Neteyam to his friends but if one of them agree, Lo’ak will punch them

Always late to class and will try to talk the teacher out of giving him a tardy (it never works)

Is literally always in trouble for something

Runs track and plays basketball

"Ayo, my parents are out of town. Party at my place tonight!"

Neteyam:

Definitely the best dressed guy in school. Baggy jeans/cargos, oversized t shirts, bomber jackets/pullovers, and beanies.

Captain of the football and track team

A lot of people have crushes on him but he pretends not to notice

Involved in so many extracurriculars

Literally everyone knows who is but he's still always so nice. Like he is popular but goes out of his way to talk to everyone not just 'cool' kids

Really good at math

"Lo'ak said what???"

Kiri:

Always has her airpods in

Pretends not to know Lo’ak

Wears crystal necklaces

Uses a bookbag not a backpack

Loves art and English class (actually enjoys Shakespeare)

Very quiet except for in debate. She completely dominates every single argument

Looks out the window and watches birds instead of paying attention during class (Rotxo likes to watch her because he can look at her without her noticing)

"Oh, I don't know a guy named Lo'ak." *rolls her eyes*

Tuk:

Tries to trade snacks at lunch but no one ever wants to because Neytiri makes her bring healthy food (Jake will secretly put candy in so she can trade)

Definitely wears like Nike and Under Armor athletic wear but in cute colors

Races the boys at recess (she always wins)

Goes crazy at Scholastic Book Fairs. She buys silly bands, bookmarks, those fuzzy mini wallets. Literally anything except actual books

She likes science. She loves learning about the chicks life cycle and watching them hatch

Her backpack is a mess

"Nete? Why are so many people in our house?"

Neytiri:

Gets in fights with PTA moms over dress codes (her kids can wear whatever they want)

On the environmental committee

Defends her kids always (even when it is clearly their fault) “How do you know that Lo’ak did that?”

Packs all their lunches and leaves good luck notes on days when they have a big test

Has to help the kids with their homework because they all cry when Jake tries to help them

"I am going to pluck out Lo'ak's eyes." *Lo'ak gets everyone out of the house and goes to hide* *Neytiri finds him easily*

Jake:

Tries to help Tuk with her math homework but she always ends up crying and then Jake feels bad and gives her candy.

Big football dad (at all of Neteyam’s games)

Drives his kids to all their school dances and gives their dates death stares

Makes friends with the other parents (Neytiri tries to be friendly)

Puts all their report cards on the fridge

"Neteyam! I said no parties. How could let your brother do this?" *Neteyam apologizes but secretly had a lot of fun and would do it again*

Thanks for reading! I've never written something like this but it was fun! Hope you enjoyed :)

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ilys00ga · 7 months

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

pairing: yoongi x female reader.

synopsis: where you meet him during your best friend's wedding. can a heart beat again after breaking to pieces?

genre: best friend's brother!yoongi, actress!female reader, bookshop owner!yoongi, angst, kind of hurt/comfort, there's also some fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, first encounters.

warnings: cheating, heartbreak, slight mentions of depression, failed past relationship, smoking. this is pure fiction ⚠️ !!

A/N: sorry for any typos or mistakes. just enjoy, pls :)! also, I might write a second part for this one. idk, tho.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

- incoming message: "saera <3: are you ditching at the last minute?"

the screen read.

oppening the door to the hall in which everyone was already sat, you made your way into the room as quietly and as quickly as possible. and with your eyes scanning around in an attempt to spot your usual group of friends, a wave of relief washed over you upon finally spotting them.

"finally! was almost certain you won't be showing up." your friend, saera, muttered under her breath and pulled you to sit closer by her side.

"why wouldn't I?" you scoffed at first, but continued with a more serious tone upon seeing the concerned look her face held, "I'm sorry, I... got distracted."

"distracted?" her brow rose in a stern question, before slowly shaking her head in defeat. "right. seriously though, if you feel like it's too much just say the word and we'll leave."

"no, I'll leave and you'll stay and have all the fun here. I won't let my messed up past ruin this for you too." you argued.

"hey-!"

"I'm fine, I promise. I wouldn't be here if I weren't. we need to drop this topic now." you took her hands in yours, looking into her eyes with a serious expression, and she silently nodded her head after a few seconds. you smiled at her in thanks before turning to greet Jimin and Jisung, your other friends from work who were sitting right behind the two of you.

"how are you boys doing?"

"I'd be better if it weren't for this ridiculous dress code we had to follow." Jisung pointed to the pink hat he was wearing with a frown. Soyoon, the bride and your dearest friend, had insisted on setting a dress code for all the guests. everyone had to wear anything as long as it's not black - "black is boring! this is a wedding! MY wedding!" - or crazy-colorful, along with a special piece - a pink hat or a pink hair clip. something pink, you do you.

no one understood this weird dress code, yet no one dared to complain, simply trying to style their options as best as they could. and in her defense, sweet, typical Soyoon said she wanted to play around and test her guests for fun.

"talking as if you wouldn't wear the most ridiculous looking outfits on random work days all in the name of fashion." jimin chimed in to tease the other whining man, making saera laugh. the room fell silent, and the ceremony began shortly after they started their usual bickering war of words.

in your honest opinion, Soyoon was a very gorgeous woman. she was always well presented and beautiful. however, as she stood before the crowd with her smile so big and radiant, she looked like a literal princess. you stared at your best friend in pure awe because you're genuinely happy for her. so, so happy. and you ignored the feeling that weighted down on your heart as your mind clung back to the day you wore your own white gown and your own veil, all to cherish this precious moment. to celebrate with your loved ones.

just like that, the vows were pronounced and the husband kissed his bride. cheers and claps filled the room, and everyone moved to congratulate the newly wedded lovers. yet the party is still very young.

you stood aside for a while, allowing yourself to drink in the beautiful sight of pure happiness and love, reminding yourself that the world is still moving even though you were busy being stuck in the past. you observed until the tornado that's been brewing in your chest grew violent before walking out of the scene, out and towards the small lake situated not far away from the building.

it's been exactly eight months and a couple of days since you've stood in front of your own wedding venue. eight-going-nine months since you got your heart broken.

maybe you were just a coward, too scared to face your own emotions, but it's not like you chose not to attend one all this time. you just couldn't. no matter how hard you tried to overcome the pain, the wound was still so fresh, and it only seemed to be getting bigger than you, swallowing you alive.

the pain of seeing the person you were so bewitched by, to whom you were ready to spend the rest of your life being committed, the one you loved with your entire heart inside some random room in the same venue the two of you chose to finally celebrate your love, all pressed up against the wall with another woman. kissing and doing things you decided not to even attempt to think about or recall.

at the time, it took you a good five minutes to get yourself together, to look closely to confirm that what you saw was indeed real and not just some messed up image your pre-wedding anxiety was trying to print into your brain, before sprinting out of the building and running far, far away from everything. running despite your legs feeling like they could explode at any given moment. you ran until you reached an empty unknown, crouching down and spilling your heart through your eyes and across your cold cheeks as you cried and cried and cried with the wind slapping against your skin.

from then on, you could never attend a wedding. no matter who the loved one was to you, you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. all you could do was smile apologetically as you politely rejected their invitation. and they understood because they knew.

eight months and there you were. numb body sitting on a bench, with a little cigarette between a thumb and an index, pulling and exhaling every now and then as you let the calm of the lake and the green of the grass, along with the color of the flowers do their favorite game of soothing your heart.

part of you wished you were the smoke that rose and flourished in the sky, giving its weight and color up to become one with the wind.

"not a fan of parties too?" a voice that sounded concerned, but very timid and gentle, broke the silence. almost like it was too ashamed of announcing its own presence. and if its deepness startled you, you didn't let it show. Instead, you lifted your head and saw a man standing close by, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark blue trousers and head tilted slightly in question.

"mind if i join you?" the sight of him scratching the nape of his neck with an awkward smile triggered your own smile, but you really weren't in the mood, so you wordlessly nodded towards the empty spot next to you and he didn't comment on that.

"it's more about the event itself rather than the crowd." you took a cigarette out of your purse and extended it to the pale skinned man.

"well, then we're not as similar as I assumed. and for that, I apologize." he mused, accepting your offer with a smile. you watch as he put it between his lips and leaned in towards the lighter you held out for him. "thanks" he nodded, taking a long pull and sighing as he breathed out and goaned in satisfaction.

you didn't know what to say, how to lay it out to him. in fact, you weren't even sure if you should let him know. after all, he was a stranger that you've never seen before. but your heart squeezed with a sudden need to talk, to explain why and how you were so messed up, while your brains insisted no.

you shook your head with a sigh, trying to think of something to say when the man caught you off guard with a question, "do you like playing UNO?"

snapping your head towaards him, you saw him holding a box of UNO cards, waving it slightly and proudly showing it off to you with a smile, and you couldn't help but giggle at that.

"why did you carry UNO cards with you to a wedding?" he chuckled with a shrug before sheepishly admitting that he bought it as a gift for his little niece.

"do you want to play, yes or no?" he smirked and narrowed his eyes in a teasing manner.

"gosh. open it already."

he does as he's told, scooting a little farther than you to make a little space in which the two of you started playing the silly little game.

"how do you know Soyoon?" the man wondered aloud.

"she's my best friend slash co-worker. what about you?"

"her brother, yoongi." he simply answered. you knew Soyoon had a brother before, but you never got to meet or even ask about him.

"it's an honor to finally meet you, then. I'm ___."

"i know you, soyoon talked about you and a couple of other friends before." yoongi smiled shyly, everting his eyes to focus back on the game.

"you seem pretty good at this, wasn't expecting that, to be honest." yoongi hummed at your teasing comment, picking a card, a plus two card, when it was his turn and putting it atop the pilled up ones in the middle. "glad you're having fun. I was afraid you would stick to your frown for the rest of the ceremony and never show us your cute smile."

heat rushed through your face, tinting your cheeks as his words, along with his slick move and the smirk on his face settle in your head.

"you didn't seem happy." he explained further, locking his eyes with yours, and you cleared your throat in an attempt to brush your brush off and continued to play.

"I don't really fancy weddings." you said.

"understandable. I don't fancy parties and public places either."

"yeah, but your circumstances are probably very different from mine."

he snorts "social anxiety is social anxiety."

"did you get your heart broken from an ex fiancé, soon-to-be husband like i did?" you failed to fight the bite in your tone, and your face hardened for a moment before softening again when he didn't respond with anything.

"sorry about that." you apologized.

"it's fine." he smiled.

your little bubble was popped open when a feminine voice called out your name, saera was waving for you to come over. you let out a small "oh" and faced yoongi who scrunched his nose in response, "guess the game's over." he stood up and offered his hand for you.

"for now," you noted, taking his hand and standing up as well, "we still didn't see who's the winner."

for a brief moment, you looked down at the cards you were still holding in your other hand, and then met his eyes again, "it was a lovely game can't wait to see again and beat you at last."

you could feel your hands shaking slightly, hesitating before extending a reverse card towards him with a shy smile. yoongi stared dumbfoundedly at first, then took the card with an equally shy smile.

"I'll be eagerly waiting, then."

you two started towards the building, with you taking rushed steps thanks to the way saera's been signaling for you to hurry up! and you didn't miss her little smirk when you finally reached her, nor the way she discreetly tilted her head towards the other man who was still a few steps far behind.

"I've seen a lot, but playing card games as a first interaction in a ceremony is quite new to me." she linked her arm with yours and guided you towards the main hall, where everyone was still chatting and enjoying their time.

"the party's ending, let's go say bye to the bride!" you ignored her comment with a cheer.

"my girls!" soyoon greeted with her arms open wide for the two of you.

"our beautiful, beautiful bride!" and saera cheered just with an equal amount of joy.

the bride pulled away to look at you with a grateful smile, "thank you so much for being here."

"oh please, did you expect me to really ditch your special day because of some stupid past drama?!" you scoffed.

"I know how hard it's been for you, my dear. I'm so glad you're here."

"it's really nothing." you insist.

"yeah, she was having fun with your brother out there, don't worry about her." saera winked with a mischievous smile, which pulled a gasp from soyoon, startled.

"wait what?!"

"oh my god. stop, you two. we just talked a little bit. I've never got to meet him before." you whined.

"neither did I!" saera fired back.

"well, I'm not gonna lie, you two are a good material." soyoon smirked and giggled with saera. both of them always loved to tease you.

"I'm leaving!"

"don't forget, we're having a sleepover this weekend!" you roll your eyes at saera before bidding you goodbye, hugging the girls one last time and leaving with a weirdly much lighter heart.

#yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #yoongi fic #bts yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi angst #bts imagines #yoongi imagine #bts angst #bts fluff #strangers to lovers #or is it #kinda #lol

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reggieslocket · 2 years

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prepare yourselves because i'm going to give you a bunch of reasons and hints that will show you the high chance of eddie being actually gay and him and steve becoming a thing >:)

1. "freak" as a queercoded word

let's start with the scene where dustin, robin, steve and max find eddie in the house where he was hiding and particularly on the dialogue between the five of them

there's this scene where eddie says something about how the people in town are getting ready to hunt him because they think he's guilty and he says "hunt the freak right?" and we see robin giving him an almost sad but understating look before replying "exactly" and i find it curios that they made her respond that out of everyone, i feel like it could be because she kind of relates to eddie's situation? she also would probably be considered a freak by people if they knew about her sexuality and that's why i believe the word has a queercoded meaning, if you think about it, "freak" was already used in the past seasons when bullies made fun of will, who also happens to be a queercoded character (even though we know he's coming out this season)

2. the handkerchief code

the handkerchief code gained popularity in the 70s and later on in the 80s and it was used especially by gay men to let others know their sexual preferences and fetishes. there were different and specific meanings depending on the color of your handkerchief and where you decided to put it (left pocket or right pocket)

now if you watch closely eddie can be seen wearing a black hanky in his left pocket throughout the seven episodes and of course these little details have their own meaning, in fact the black one was used to indicate S&M (sadomasochism) and as mentioned before the fact that it is placed in his left pocket isn't casual because that placement indicated that the person wearing it was a top (the dominant one in bed) while if you put it in your right pocket it meant you were a bottom (the submissive one)

this whole hanky thing made quite sense for me except for the fact that it was hard to believe that eddie is into sadomasochism but then rewatching the show a few days ago i noticed some handcuffs in his room and i found it weird because honestly what is a 20 year old man doing with those? he's not a cop or anything and so the fact that they are in his room is a bit strange for me... i just hope that the choice of making eddie wear the handkerchief isn't casual but a powerful move by the duffer brothers in order to hint at his sexuality

3. joe and joseph's interview

this interview really do be getting my hopes up. basically the interviewer asks joe what season one steve would think of his season four self and he replies with "surprised, approving... approval" WHILE looking and smiling at joseph who is also grinning, like there's no way they aren't hiding something and i hope it's the relationship between steve and eddie and steve's bisexuality. plus the fact that even maya is smiling while it seems like natalia is the only one able to be subtle about the whole thing lmao

then obviously there are steddie-antis saying that he would be approving of him and nancy getting back together but like... what should he be approving of? they were already a couple in season one so it wouldn't make much sense

4. gaten ships them as well

remember: if gaten ships it then it's canon

i love how the first couple that came to his mind is steddie and how proudly he says their names. he seemed so serious while saying it that it made me reflect on the fact that it's not that impossible seeing it happen and if not in season 4 maybe in season 5 since i read somewhere that luckily neither steve nor eddie are going to die in the last two episodes of this season (i don't know if it's true but let's hope so)

5. the chrissy-eddie thing

almost everyone who hates the fact that we headcanon eddie as gay will give the same explanation that he is clearly straight because he was flirting with chrissy and honestly i didn't see that as flirting at all, i just thought he was being really nice to her like he is to everyone. she was having a hard time and he was able to make her laugh and loosen up a little, i didn't find it as something romantic and furthermore who says that every interaction between a man a woman has to be romantic?

like friendship exists as well people?? and don't try and say "tHeRe cAn'T bE sO mAnY qUeEr cHaRaCtErS iN oNe sHoW, iT's nOt rEaLiStIc" like trust me it's more realistic having a group of only (or almost) queer people than one where everyone is straight and i know the show takes place in the 80s but gay people existed even then but they just couldn't openly say it so stfu

6. steve's attempts to find a girlfriend

we all know mama steve is trying his hardest to find a girlfriend but none of them really "suists" him right? what if eddie is the person that suits him? i mean it would be epic if he spent two seasons trying to find a girlfriend and then he ends up with a dude lol, i'd like to see bi steve happening so bad and i just know that robin would be super supportive of him and my boy dustin would be the happiest person on earth if his two dads got together

you can't tell me that they aren't developing a little crush on each other or that they don't care about each other, just look at eddie's face and his loving eyes in that scene and steve staring at eddie's lips for the whole time. i swear if they are really trying to get nancy and steve back together i'll start a riot because honestly they would be so forced, it wouldn't be good for both of their character development and also my boy jonathan doesn't deserve this, they made jancy dirty this season and i'm still pissed ugh

anyway if you read the whole thing ily and thanks for coming to my ted talk :)

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things s4 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #stranger things volume 2

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artofshinga · 12 days

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A bit ago I did a whole-ass set of warlocks based on D&D 5e subclasses - mostly for fun and also because my RP group was planning a warlock game. I didn't HAVE to draw one of each but doing so DID help me decide which one I wanted to play (this is, to note, why the characters are all pretty fem-coded - because that's my favorite to RP) Anyway, after I drew them all, folks asked if I'd do other classes too. And I was like, maybe? But, sorcerer did sound fun to do this with so over the last few months I've been working on them kinda on the side while I put most my energy in, like, the commissions I need to finish lol. But here, a bunch of theoretical sorcerers I'd personally play in a game:

Let's start us off with Iris, a half-elf who'd be living a pretty normal life in a normal job (I was thinking she was probably a waitress or somethin) until she finds something weird - a piece of a meteor or something, you know how it goes. Suddenly she has powers, and that's where her adventure would begin More sorcerers under the cut!

Tally I struggled with because, as it turns out, little mechanical fairy wings are complicated to draw. BUT also fun - I liked the idea of a fairy who's lost her wings and while she's trapped in the material plane she befriends a clockmaker who builds her little wings for her and eventually her magic ends up kind of syncing up with the mechanical way he teaches her about the world

Elysia was actually the last one I drew, since I have a DIFFERENT Divine Soul sorcerer I've already designed and want to play as a priority, but then I happened to see something about Greek gods while watching TV one day and thought, oh hey, that'd be a fun way to play with a divinity-themed sorcerer - maybe a musician that caught the affections of a god who blessed her with magic

Cherish is a cheerful tiefling working at an inn with her former-adventurer mother. We can guess what sort of things her mother got up to in her adventure since she ended up raising a child with some mysteriously draconic features

NGL Aine was just a way for me to play with some of the inspirations I used to cling to as a kid. Sailor Moon and other various bits of anime and JRPGs and such that I loved in my youth and used a LOT to inspire art. I wanted to remember that - and a catgirl wearing too many belts sounded perfect for that

Leila is probably my weirdest - she's SPECIFIC, like if there's a campaign set in the Shadowfell or something, I imagined a maid working in a mansion that gets magicked away to this realm and her gaining that shadow power when it happens

One of my first 5e characters was a storm sorcerer - more focused on rain and lightning and thunder. I used the same hair color and close to the same skin color to make this new storm sorcerer as a bit of a nod to that character, and wanted this one more focused on winter storms (including making her a winter eladrin elf)

and last but certainly not least, Gemma the halfling cursed with wild magic. I think she started off her adventuring life with a thieves' group before they found the wrong magic artifact. You know how it goes

#sorcerer #divine soul sorcerer #storm sorcerer #wild magic sorcerer #aberrant mind sorcerer #clockwork soul sorcerer #draconic bloodline #lunar sorcerer #shadow magic #tiefling #half elf #halfling #eladrin #tabaxi #fairy

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evilminji · 4 months

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Okay but >.> continuing my Marvel thoughts?

I got two of um?

First being? Don't Orange and Green go together? *looks it up* Aaaaaay~ "Direct harmony, also known as complementary colors, means pairing your key color with the color sitting on the opposite side of the color wheel." They DO!!! They're a classic example, in fact!

The Orange Soul Stone? Probably looks REAL good, real NATURAL even, against that Green sky! Bet it REALLY pops! Very stand out statement piece, you know? But? More importantly? That thing is sentient. All of those Pillars of Reality across the various Verses are.

And?

I bet it thought Pariah was a lil bitch.

Rank Vibes. Negative ris. Pick your words for it, the man was NASTY. He was too keep his filthy, filthy World's Conquering hands OFF of this Soul Stone. Something, I imagine? That ALL the Soul Stones agreed with.

Yes, I said all of um.

Because the various Realities each need their own. But! They can and DO work from the Zone, which is the PERFECT place to hide. And honestly? They like to get together and do this thing? Where they're all "oooh~ look at US! We are SUPER IMPRESSIVE Kingly Jewelry~☆! Definitely no important reality bending Rocks Of Great Power HERE! No SIR! We're just tooootally rad jeeeeewelryyyyy~~~☆! Oooooooh~☆"

They like to have fun. :3

Hope Danny likes Orange. Ha ha... trick question. He doesn't have a CHOICE! All SORTS of Death based Reality Pillars are rocking up, in their metaphorical Gucci sweat suits and shades with a margarita, going "oh thank ME, babe. The last guy was AWFUL! You're soooo much better? Now let me rub myself all over you. It's been ages and baby needs to recharge on Death Energy."

Danny hates it? So? So much?

He looks like a GAUDY PIRATE. *nnnnnnyooom!* *THWAP!* *Another reality shaking, highly sacred, Godly Staff of Death or whatever they decided to call it, flys in through a nearby window and nearly concusses him as it smacks itself against his upper back and sticks there*

He looks like a walking junk heap of sacred artifacts.

You ever been pelted by rocks? He has! Little orange rocks! Like fucked up hail! Welcome to kinghood, Danny, have a CONCUSSION! D:< he hates it!

But... but, I mean... At Least It's Not The SWORDS. (Panicked scream of "hit the deck!" from the other room.) (Holy sword number 15 wants to CUDDLE! Bare blade first! Dodge, your Majesty! DODGE!)

So yeah.

Danny? In A MOOD. Not feeling particularly FRIENDLY. It's not anyone's fault, really. But... well... you can't exactly negotiate with these fuckers, you know? Rocks are by NATURE, kinda stubborn.

So he's sitting there. Buried. With what he's pretty sure is a sacred text digging into his side. When a... glowing? Mist? Shows up? Huh. That's new. They don't seem to have a very clear image of "Self". Yet it's crystal clear? Just not... PHYSICAL? It's more... code? He thinks?

TECHNUS! Get over here! And behave!

There is much cooing and delight from Technus. The baby is a marvel. A wonder! Danny waits patiently for Technus to get to the point.

Ah.

He would like to "go back". His Obsession is demanding it.

IS it now? You're what? Maybe a day or so dead? You've been busy, if you've already gathered enough information to make your case like this. Alright, let's hear it, little guy.

It boils down to this. His obsession in death is the same as his primary directive was in life. Protect Mr Stark. Which is especially difficult to do from HERE. Even MORE so when there is a known threat, coming too...

WAIT, WHAT!?

The Souls Stones back him up. Oh yeah. Thanos' a lil bitchbaby loser. He's trying to make Death fall in love with him. Or "balance the universe". Depends on the reality. Totally throwing EVERYTHING out of whack.

And? Look. Danny's job? Isn't to interfere if countries kill each other. Or even planets. Nor entire galaxies, as much as he'd like too. But when you get too "I'm messing with Entire Realities or all of a Singular Reality at once in the specific depart of Death and its subsidiaries" territory? THAT is his job.

Might not be a "I personally have to show up" issue. But it still IS very much his job at that point. He has to delegate. Order the appropriate steps be taken. Cause yeah, there may be countless millions every day of such instances? But it IS his job to metaphorically order the roads repaired and the building inspected.

Sudden MASS "immigration"?

That causes Lair disputes. Confusion. Too many ghosts in too small an area. And WORSE, if people start playing with Death Pillars? The Zone might get dragged into whatever nonsense they're up too! It's like children playing with heavy machinery! Put that DOWN! Cease! Desist!!

And then? Clockwork shows up looking Mildly Miffed(TM). O:> dear lord. What madness has he stumbled upon? Oh. Oh of COURSE. First the "balancing" dude and now they're going to be playing with time travel. THATS IT. Someone unburying me!

I'm gonna go menace some humans that might actually believe I'm scary! Frighty! Pack up and shine your armor! Your coming too! We're escorting the baby home then have a Talk(tm) with the local Grape Ceral!

@hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe @hdgnj

#dp x marvel #dpxmarvel #dp x mcu

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alitheakorogane · 1 year

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Freedom's Protection: A Blasphemy or The Truth?

Summary: Venti's outburst shocks everyone, making the people of Mondstadt question everything they knew about their Archon.

This is the third part of Mondstadt's storyline for the Reader Protection Squad SAGAU series.

Note: There are instances of grammatical errors, please bear with me. Also, the entire layout was now changed and I placed a title on them so I could not be confused while I write the next chapters. It's still the same story though.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3 (current), 4, 5, 6, 7

"What if your dear Anemo Archon was also like them, an imposter who also steals someone's face?!"

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Everyone couldn't believe what the young bard was saying, especially those who are very devoted to Lord Barbatos. The Anemo Archon is also an imposter?

Bennett and Fischl who accompanied him looked at Venti with surprised looks on their faces, while Razor was confused about what happened. On the other hand, you were shocked at what the bard did, even though you had expected him to do something stupid after Eula's harsh statement regarding imposters.

To be honest, you can understand why the usual happy and mischievous bard suddenly snaps out and break down at everyone. Eula's statement may be intended for you but it also applies to Venti's situation, and her scathing words hit the Anemo Archon on a personal level. You guessed that not everyone knows his real story, not even his very devout followers in his church, as you had remembered that only the Traveler was the one who had truly opened up about his real feelings of loss by telling his story about his bard friend in his story quest.

They didn't know who he really is... because all knowledge that the Mondstadters knew about their beloved Archon is from secondary sources, from the words of other people, and not really from Venti himself.

They never knew how hard is to pretend to be someone he really isn't. You know it wasn't his choice to rule a nation, since Andrius had stepped down from being a suitable candidate but Venti had tried his best to fulfill the wishes of his beloved friend before he had died: for Mondstadt to be free.

Mondstadters from the past to the present saw his Archon persona in rose-colored glasses, portraying him as regal, poised, and hardworking as his people (they were also overworked because they thought they can emulate Lord Barbatos' 'hardworking' work ethic) who value the concept of freedom over his domain, not knowing that their Archon is actually a happy-go-lucky troublemaker who has the heart of gold, who really likes apples and Dandelion Wine to the point of breaking the records for most shots a Mondstadter can drink in one go, or how he likes to annoy people with his songs and pranks when he feels like it.

You had sympathized with him, as you and he are similar in some aspects. You always force a bright smile on your face and feel optimistic, even though there are times that you feel like you wanted to give up on everything. You can crack jokes over your so-called friends, laugh at the corniest punchlines, and put up some masks on other people, saying to them that you're okay even though it really isn't.

There is a reason why you loved playing Genshin Impact, it's not because of the waifus or husbandos or you just want to have fun and spend over nothing, but it was an escape from your loneliness and the reality. You feel loved when the game greeted you on your birthday before anyone can and was given you a digital cake even though you know it was coded to be like that. You feel happy when your favorite character had come home and when you listened to their voice lines where they said something good about you.

You think that someone took pity on you and whisk you away to the beautiful continent of Teyvat, but it seems that there's a mistake. The moment you were spat at by the same characters you really loved, you feel like you were really unloved by anyone no matter what world you've been thrown in. You're not suicidal, but at that moment, the urge to throw yourself off the cliff and unto the waters of Cider Lake to drown was very strong.

So when you met Bennett, Razor, and Fischl for the first time and they had befriended you no matter what others say something bad about you, you feel happy that someone had accepted you the way you are, and you wanna cry with tears of joy.

And when Venti, the actual Anemo Archon of Mondstadt, came to your rescue, you feel like you were lucky that someone out there still appreciated your existence. You silently thank whoever is above that gives you some mercy over this forsaken world.

Meanwhile, Barbara Pegg, the lovely Deaconess of the Church of Favonius, couldn't help but ponder over what the bard had said. You had noticed how she was not as defensive as the other nuns present, but you just brushed it off as she was just in shock. You were unfortunately wrong about your assumptions, for you underestimated her just because you know from her game appearances that she was oblivious to her Archon being literally meters away from her.

She may be a devout follower of the Anemo Archon, but as a Gunnhildr, she had access to a certain diary of one of their ancestors living at the time of Decarabian, along with her older sister Jean.

She remembered a passage regarding a wind elf and his human friend who died in the rebellion, after her mother, Frederica, had let her read the family heirloom after Barbara joined the church as a Deaconess.

"The young leader had unfortunately passed away by a stray arrow to the heart, the winds took away his young life so early. We were devastated to see the one who had awakened our hearts and fought for freedom die in the rebellion against Lord Decarabian, but no one grieves more than the Elf, who was with him till the end. The Elf has done the unthinkable after they had ascended into a god by Celestia: they had taken the form of his human friend so he could see the free world under the eyes of the Elf, who was now under the name of Barbatos, the new Anemo Archon of Mondstadt."

Imagine Barbara's surprise when she found out about that, she had never read this information in any Mondstadt history books or tomes she had come across. She knew that her ancestor had been part of the first Mondstadt rebellion against Lord Decarabian, so she could assume that it was a legitimate source.

At the time, she can't believe that Lord Barbatos' current form seen in the statues isn't his, to begin with, for it was based on his human friend who had died in the first rebellion. Today, she had doubts about the issue, especially when the bard had brought it up.

"If that's the case, then it's true that Lord Barbatos is technically an imposter, just like how Mr. Bard had said," she thought to herself, "But how he known about that if that information isn't in the books I have ever read about our Archon? Did I miss a book?"

She looked at her older sister who was still standing with Diluc with a troubled look in her eyes like she was pondering about something. She ever wondered if Jean still remembered the contents of the diary or knew something about Venti. As far as she was concerned, Venti knew the Honorary Knight, Jean, and DIluc personally due to their involvement during the Stormterror crisis.

She knew that Venti can summon Dvalin, one of the Four Winds, when they went to the Golden Apple Archipelago months ago. He is also the only one she can't heal with her Hydro Vision, the first time since she had been blessed by the gods. He had an angelic voice and an exceptional talent for playing the lyre, which to be honest, Barbara was slightly jealous of. And he just recently appeared on Mondstadt, which was coincidentally the time when Dvalin, known as Stormterror that time, had attacked Mondstadt.

Who really is Venti anyway?

"Blasphemy!" One of the nuns screamed as her fellow comrades and citizens agreed with her, "Lord Barbatos isn't an imposter, you blasphemous child. How dare you speak to the Archon that way?!"

"History books had never told the Anemo Archon's whole story!" Venti continued as he lowered his bow down, his right arm wiping the stray tears on his cheeks. You wanted to comfort him, to hug him in your arms, but the situation was so tense that you prefer not to, for now.

"You just knew him because of those books and those spoken stories that always praise him! And in every single one of them, he was portrayed as a divinity who committed no mistakes and made some exceptional deeds just because he is an Archon. You may think that he is perfect, but news flash people, he's not! He's as flawed as any other mortal out there! He should have saved his dear friend if he was as perfect and powerful as you think he was!"

He was glaring at the people in front of him, his aqua-green eyes glowing in intensity, "You had never known that he was originally a wind wisp who had taken the form of a dead friend to honor a wish. He had never saved his dear friend... if only that blasted wind wisp was a second too early, his friend wouldn't have died in the rebellion! That friend of his was the one who started the peak of the rebellion, who had sang songs of freedom, and guess what, no one remembers his name or even his sacrificial deeds!"

Venti closed his eyes as he continued speaking, a look of nostalgia etched in his eyes as he stared at the skies above, "Freedom was given to all of you due to a sacrifice of a human who was now forgotten by history, but his face... his young face now lived on under the facade of Lord Barbatos. Without the bard's final wish, Lord Barbatos would never make freedom his ideal for Mondstadt..."

"...He would never have been the weakest among the Seven Archons if he had never fulfilled his dear friend's dying wish."

"And how would you know about that? Why would you try to defame Anemo Archon Barsibato just to manipulate our minds about the imposter?!" Rosaria harshly interrogated Venti who just spewed some blasphemous information about their Archon, her polearm pointed at the bard.

The nuns of the Church of Favonius had deadpan looks on their faces over Rosaria's mistake over Lord Barbatos' name, while the citizens who believed in the Archon glared at Venti for his statement.

To their surprise, the young Anemo user smiled at them, but they could guess that he was actually smirking. He chuckled as he bowed his head, bangs covering his beautiful eyes. It left people confused and scared, especially the Knights and the Church nuns. They had never seen this side of the bard who they have just known to be as mischievous and happy-go-lucky all the time.

You felt chills when you see his smirk, as you had an image of a young-looking boy with angelic wings who looked at the people with a menacing smile, the bow on his hands was stained in blood. You then realized that you had seen a glimpse of Venti in his Archon form, and it was possible that it was him in the Khaenri'ah disaster 500 years ago!

His Elegy of the End bow was still on his hand as he dared to respond with a playful tone at the young nun, staring at her with a coldness that could rival someone with a Cryo Vision, as if he was scolding a young misbehaving child, "You could say that I am more than just a mere drunkard bard, Miss Rosaria."

"After all, how could I ever spread blasphemous words about myself?"

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BADASS VENTI IS LIFE.

Well, this is Part 3 of the Reader Protection Squad series of one-shots, where someone is trying to protect the Reader from being pelted down by the Divine Creator's obsessive acolytes.

This one was also cut into two parts, so there is a possible Part 4 regarding Venti helping you off. (sigh) I think I will do a full-blown fanfic if I kept this up. I also write the Reader's inner thoughts, based on my experience. I couldn't help but shed a tear when I wrote this part.

To those who are new to my story, in this series, Venti is part of your protection squad in this Imposter AU concept, one of the two Archons who are going to help you. He is usually the mischaracterized character in SAGAU fics, and I wanted to do justice to my boi's character.

I made Barbara more perceptive than she was on canon, because why not? I made her a book enthusiast, she likes to read books in her free time just like her older sister (if she is not busy with her idol work, practice, healing, and church duties). Her possible favorite books are about Lord Barbatos and his deeds to Mondstadt.

And here's Rosaria and her mishaps with Venti's Archon name...🤣

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Taglist: @eimuros, @vvyeislazzy, @ansyistiredsstuff, @haru-tofuu, @coquettemaiden, @voidlesslove, @depressed-bitchy-demon, @yuukaaariyuuu, @g3n0dtt, @misswitchthewindborn, @lumpywolf, @c00kie-cat, @mulandi, @genshin-impacts-me, @bloop-booop

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thewayuarent · 7 months

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Clothes in Only Friends

And how it let us know everything we need about Ray’s choice

God, do I love costume department working on Only Friends. There is so, so many fun and interesting things to notice - “talking” t-shirts (especially Boston’s), and Sand with yellow, and how TopMew started as “striped” couple - but one is vertical and the other is horizontal (is it about them being misreading each other? or is it about them crossing each other’s lives? idk), how Boeing appeared and we immediately see TopMew vibes all over him. How we can easily indicate each character individual style.

But my favorite thing is how the series uses style shifting to show what’s going on with characters without telling it out loud.

We have Nick, who was so obsessed in his jealousy, that he started to copy man he knew Boston was interested in. We see him coming back in terms with Boston, but we also see him learning to accept himself again - the way his style got back to his usual one, with green and blue colors and more boyish vibes. He’s not the same, because his experience changed him, but he is who he is, not a shadow of someone else.

We have Mew, who adapted Ray’s style and behavior because he was hurt, and he chooses to numb his pain, and he gets to the only person he thinks can help him with that. He’s coming back to his senses by the end of episode nine, but he’s still very Ray-coded, because he still didn’t figure out who he is or what he wants and he’s in the middle of his journey (I’m so waiting to see how it will turn out).

And we have Ray, and his example is so fascinating. Because if you look at Ray’s choices of clothing in episodes 8 and 9, you can actually predict everything happens. (I will exclude scenes from university cause, well, uniform)

His style screams Sand most part of the time, but it’s absolutely not about him wanting to adapt Sand’s life or look. It’s about him choosing Sand since the very beginning of his and Mew situationship. Because while Ray needs his time to realize everything about him and Mew and him and Sand, we know he already subconsciously made his choice. As well as we know Ray and Mew will never work out way before they are ready to admit it.

The talk. There a lot of things were said out loud for the first time in this scene that are every important. But this is also about what was shown to us - that the first time we see Ray and Mew as a “couple” is also the first time Ray chooses to wear something Sand-coded. Specifically something very similar to what Sand picked for him.

And there is something about Ray saying “I’m so happy when I’m with you” (can he hear himself? no, but really, it’s been two weeks and I’m still like, bro, for real?) while he stays here, wearing this shirt that looks like the one he wears at the night they were happy, and the night their relationship was damaged hard.

The bookshop. Here we see Ray way closer to his usual style, but not exactly. Ray is always extravagant, and attention grabbing, and using patterns, and lip gloss, and he is just that kind of person. But here he’s quiet. And monochrome. No make up, not patterns, no usual brightness. Mew looks more like Ray than Ray himself.

And this is indicating why their relationship with Mew is wrong - Ray is not fully himself, he adapts in a way Mew never asked him, actually, but he knows makes his presence more tolerable. He seems like himself, sure, but he doesn’t feels like himself.

The party. I made a post about is already - it’s just great example of Mew and Ray thinking they are on the same page while they are actually not even from the same book.

It’s all about toxicity, and pain, and dragging each other down instead of helping each other to stand.

The fight. This is my absolute favorite one. Because this whole conversation - absolutely unhealthy and terrible it is - is actually both of them realizing they will never work out.

And they try so, so hard. And I believe it’s really frustrating for both of them to accept they failed. And of course instead of talking it out they blames each other, and hurt each other. And of course they will manage thing well later - but this is their breaking point, right here.

And of course Ray, who is attentive enough to recognize Mew’s feelings for Top has no fucking idea about him spending this whole time with Sand written all over him. While Yo knows, and Mew knows, and everyone including my grandma knows - he himself is just not ready to allow himself to admit it.

The river. So, this scene, as well as next one, Ray wears not just Sand-coded clothes, but actual Sand’s clothes. But there is a difference.

Because this is the scene where Ray finally admits his feelings - but he’s able to do it only after Sand admits his. Because Ray is incredibly insecure, and incredibly drowned in self-hatred, because Ray always reaches towards people who give him attention and love. Because he can’t allow himself to go for such risk without assurance.

And he’s sitting here with Sand, and Sand is in bright blue color, while Ray is in his t-shirt, but dark, and black, and with “You Only Live Once” and he’s admitting - to Sand and himself - his feelings, but he doesn’t admit to himself that he’s already made his choice until the very next scene.

The choice. And they are sitting again, and that’s only two of them again, and Ray wears Sand’s t-shirt again, and this is very different.

Because this is not just occasional t-shirt. This is the one we saw Sand wears. This is the one that was on him the very same day Ray made an attempt to move on from Mew. The very same day Ray said “I want to know you better”, the very same day he invited himself in Sand’s life. The day they were probably very happy, even if way far from well communicated, the day that could become an indication of something new for them.

And he wears this t-shirt when he says something cheesy about “I will handle everything while I have you” and “Let me be the part of your dream” - the very same dream Sand told him about the very same day.

And it’s just painfully obvious that there is nothing about Mew on the picture anymore. Sand told him “I won’t wait for you” and Ray was like “You don’t need to, I’m already here”. Oh they’ll fuck it up so hard, won’t they?

The comeback. And like that, Ray’s style is back. Because Ray’s clothes don’t tell us story about trying to be someone else, but a story about wanting someone else.

And when he and Mew have this beautiful adult healthy conversation that I love the most we know that Ray is already accepted his choice - the one that Yo knows, and Mew knows, and everyone in this world actually kind of knows. And this is how we know that this painful arc of Ray and Mew being toxic disaster is finally over even before they say anything out loud. Just because Ray wears his style again.

#ofts #only friends the series #only friends #only friends meta #sandray #raymew #what can I say. I’m a sucker for style and unhealthy romance #does it guarantee happy ending? noooo #does it mean their relationship is healthy? noooooo #but yeah

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