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#i'm also thinking about sets they could sell
rubenhopclap · 2 days
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I'm bringing this to you instead of making my own post because I'm not sure I'm qualified to make an observation, but it's kinna weird Ruben explicitly goes to Fig's domain in Hell to essentially be her slave/sweat shop worker, right?
Yes, my take is that this is actually kinda icky. For clarity, I am only part white but entirely nonblack.
It was obviously entirely not intentional. I wouldn't be surprised if no Intrepid Hero other than Lou has actually thought about Ruben as a Black character. It is in these moments of essentially colorblind thoughtlessness that accidentally icky things happen sometimes.
It is also very much muddied by the fantasy elements.
It's already canon that Fig has control of a whole lot of people and what they're going to do for eternity. If we didn't have this fantasy lens that'd be pretty fucked up! Fig felt bad earlier this season about making a guy rock who didn't want to. Hell is fucked up. The status quo of the world that they live in (the hierarchy of which Fig is part of) is fucked up.
It isn't fair to Fig to completely remove the fantasy lens when looking at that moment. But yes, it's also kinda established that the place Ruben is being punished is Fig's recording studio, which she intends to use to benefit her career and most likely financially profit.
Emily was not thinking about this. (Fig wasn't thinking about this either, she's huffing rage dust or whatever, etc.) Let's just go ahead and assume she meant only cords that are specifically unspooled for him to spool, like a recording studio themed Sisyphus. That's the place hell traditionally is. When the devil jabs you with a pitchfork, he's not traditionally selling your blood. That's the touchstone in her head when she very quickly thinks about what she's going to make happen.
It's still an icky moment, even if this gets reversed next episode. It makes me go "eugh" to think about. I don't expect anything from the cast for that. They are improv comedians. In order for them to be funny, they have to be free enough that sometimes! Icky things get through the filter.
It's still worth acknowledging.
The fandom for this show can spot potentially racist implications when Grix casts Dominate Monster on Riz.
We can spot it when Ivy says Mazey could be "worn like a coat."
The fandom for this show can spot the racial dynamic of Gorgug, a half-orc adopted by gnomes, pursuing both Artifice and Barbarianism and rocking the shit out of both. We can spot what it might parallel when Porter makes that difficult for him, when people don't believe that these two things can work together.
Meanwhile I literally saw someone call Henry Hopclap a racist who thinks "cute little gnomes" can't be real artificers, because he referred to Gorgug's parents as tinkerers who taught him practical engineering. (This person was confused and thought Henry was a halfling when they formed this opinion, so set that to the side, it changes nothing about the point here.)
What does it mean if a fandom can be prepared to rush to Gorgug's defense and label Henry a racist for having a mildly abrasive manner, but that same fandom can't spot the dynamics invoked when a young educated Black man is confident in his education and even dares to imply that he might be more educated than some white people he met at a DIY fair?
What does it mean if we can spot any potential slight of members of fictional races who symbolize targets of racism, but have nothing to say when a Black character's soul passes (violently) to the control of a white* character, and that white* character tells him she's going to make him do menial labor for the rest of his eternal life? (*I know she's a tiefling, fantasy racism isn't real racism, but I hope we can at least all agree that she's definitely nonblack.)
It's worth pointing out.
And yes btw, I understand that there's defensiveness on Emily's behalf because of the extreme misogyny she has been subjected to by fans in the past. That's fucked up and it isn't okay. This isn't a reason to harass her either. It's not even something to judge her entire character about. But the fear that it might fuel that shouldn't prevent us from ever being able to acknowledge when moments like this happen.
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dsudis · 2 days
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Talk Shop Tuesday: If you could immediately pluck one story/concept/idea from your brain and have it fully formed in front of you, exactly as you would want, what would that idea be? Can you describe it to us, along with any potential factors that are slowing you down/blocking you from creating it in the first place? Thanks! <3 -@fieldsofview
Oh, boy, that is a question!
My first thought is that I'd like to have When Two Become One (or, oh dear, Little and Broken, but Still Good) completed, just to not have the dangling WIP to worry about.
But really, honestly, if I was sitting here with the one-use-only magical wishing stone that would take a story from my brain and give me a ready-to-release perfect version of it? I would ask it to finish the historical-with-magic m/m romance that I started writing a bit over five years ago and had plotted five followups to.
It's such a great story! It has magical soulbonds that are made, not found! It has a whole system of gay marriage fitted into a historical setting in a way that I personally find satisfying and logical! It has the obstacle to marriage between our heroes being that they are too exactly well-matched for each other (and therefore it's painfully difficult to determine which of them ought to become a non-person and lose his independent inheritance and social status by becoming the dependent spouse of the other, because it's 1834 and somebody has to not be a whole legal person anymore after they get married, that's the rules).
It has COMPLEMENTARY MAGICAL ABILITIES REVEALING ROMANTIC COMPATIBILITY. It has YEARNING. It has a DUEL (well, almost) and a huge historic disaster that our heroes get swept up in, leading to SWOONING FROM MAGICAL EXHAUSTION. It has the baby sister who the hero wants to protect SOLVING PROBLEMS HERSELF, with the help of her trans girlfriend. (It has magical gender affirmation for trans people, because what kind of magical setting would it be if it didn't??) It has a HORRIBLE COUSIN WHO WILL INHERIT THE ESTATE who turns out in a subsequent book to be not really horrible at all so much as, you know, autistic and traumatized and dashed awkward in sensitive situations, and in need of just the right adorable twink to understand him and love him.
It unfortunately has a terminal lack of writing momentum due to me picking away at it through all the years when my writing had not come home from the wars, and so I just feel sort of exhausted every time I think about figuring out what the fuck happens in chapter five and how to put that into words and sentences and paragraphs, so I've stuck it in the drawer and moved on to things that I feel a bit less daunted by, although just this second I feel daunted by every activity more complicated than playing Cake Sort on my phone and watching a lot of Air Crash Investigations, because life is a lot right now.
But if I just had this novel straight from the wishing stone, I could read it, and I'm sure I would love the whole thing again and be ready to write the next five books, and also I could publish the dear thing and tell people it's a bit like a KJ Charles (with less murder) or Jordan L Hawk (with less eldritch horror), and it would probably sell pretty decently and I could be firmly on the way with my five year plan to be able to do more writing and less day-jobbing. And that would be awfully nice.
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ahlaway · 2 months
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I know there is no way #quackity or #quackityStudios are going to see this but as someone who lives 20 minutes from a pokemon center (alongside a patreon) i'm BEGGING for them to do plushies. Plushies of eggs in every event skin. Different signature hats.
People LOVE the egg designs. They LOVE how cute they are. Tiny egg plushies. HELL. BIG EGGS. That would be about the size the eggs would be for cosplayers that could be expensive.
The amount of people I see leave the pokemon center with multiple of the same pokemon in different plushie form is crazy and if it was FUNDING the admins and not a big corporation??? all the better.
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sleeperagentclone · 3 months
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I am too socially inept to deal with all the weird people my dad has collected over the years
#Like no my dad is not here right now because come back when he is#The old people who seem like they did too many drugs in the 70s/80s are more annoying#But like he'll set up a precedent of buying shit from homeless guys because “maybe they'll have something good someday”#And he'll just give them money which is all well and good (if I ever donate money to anything or give change to anyone I've been scammed)#But then he expects me (5'1 teenage girl looking ass) to refuse to give them money when he cuts them off#Like he is 65+ and over 6 feet tall I AM NOT#And like telling people who are seemingly unstable that you can't give them money and that no only the owner buys things and no you can't#Leave a pile of junk for him to look at later and no I can't give you any money over and over is fucking scary!#I am for sure speaking from a place of privilege because I would probably just be dead if not for my support network#I could very easily be on the other side of this I'm not fucking stable I can't hold down a real job#But I am just not equipped to be having these interactions and honestly I shouldn't be having them anyway#He keeps pretty regular hours and answers his phone so I don't understand why people are always looking for him when I'm here#I will say the homeless guys he buys from have gotten a lot better about coming in when he's actually here#And one of them Chris is perfectly nice he's a great artist but he also smells bad and is visiblely dirty sometimes and that sets off my ocd#and also makes me feel like a really shitty person for 'judging' him when I know that he doesn't have stable access to a shower#When I'm actually just suffering from my mental illness and that can also trigger the intrusive thought side of the ocd#Where I get stuck in a loop of thinking I'm a terrible person#And also I just feel bad not giving him money#And like we sell his art in the store but people rarely buy it which is annoying because it's pretty fucking sick
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loriache · 1 month
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Butch up that Elf: my Marcille manifesto
TBQH, this came into being because the Falin "dragoness" fanart rewired my brain completely. It's sillytimes, but we're going to make a serious argument: trying out being a little butch would Fix Her.
1. Marcille Gender Discomfort
Now, Marcille LOVES feminity. She loves playing dressup, she loves elaborate gowns, she spends her free time going to the spa - the absolute last thing I want is to deny that. However, there's also a definite vibe that this isn't just a preference. Specifically, the way that she pushes Falin towards femininity suggests that she isn't comfortable with gender nonconformity in the people around her.
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If this was something she was 100% confident about ("I'm doing this for myself and nobody else!") surely what other people do wouldn't be a big deal? Of course, you can read this as a little bit of solipsism; "what works for me must work for you too! I think this is so cute and would suit you - wouldn't you agree?"
But for the sake of this argument, all I'm trying to suggest is that gender nonconformity (and probably sexual nonconformity... well, frankly, any kind of sexuality at all) is unlikely to be something that's on Marcille's "radar". She hasn't tried out other ways of presenting and decided she doesn't like them. I do think she'd be a very flamboyant butch - "ouji lolita" vibes, you know? It's a whole new set of wardrobe options she could play dress-up in, even.
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After the story ends, she starts dressing like her mother in all black, which makes sense - her mother was also a court magician, so she's probably emulating her in order to project confidence and authority. But I can't say I think she should stick with this. Break away and be your own person, Marcille! Try a fancy waistcoat and frilled jacket!
2. Haircut
This is another potential hard sell, I'm sure. The people she loves doing her hair is a cute symbol of their care for her, and her hair is key to her magic - so there's plenty of reason for her to keep it long. But like... think practically. Having someone do your hair every morning, for the whole of her long life, while it gets messier over the day (because she can't remember to keep it neat)... That's got to be such a pain. My hair gets messy when I put a hoodie on. And I have short hair.
It would require her to go through a change of mind, and probably a little more growth in how secure she feels in her relationships, but - the hairdo's a symbol. The more important thing is the relationships themselves. Eventually I think there might be something liberating about cutting it off, even if she might eventually decide to grow it out again.
The lion, her trauma, took something away from her which was really important to her. The people around her are able to make that easier, and make up for it, and soften that loss, but... Mithrun isn't the person he was before, you know? He's a new person. The relationship he has with his brother is new, and I don't know if it's one that the person he was before could have had. If Falin hadn't died, they wouldn't have gone on that wonderful adventure! They wouldn't have met Senshi or saved Izutsumi and Laios and Marcille wouldn't have gotten so close. So I think it's totally congruent with the themes of the story that the burning away of this part of Marcille's self might eventually create the potential for new growth in a new direction, not clinging onto the parts that are gone.
This also isn't totally out of the norm for elven mages - both Otta and Flamela have short hair. Otta is canonically butch, and potentially Flamela reads that way to elves too, but the point is it clearly is possible to be an accomplished mage without long hair.
3. Desiring (to be) a chivalrous prince
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Marcille's succubus is clearly General Halleus from her favourite book series, the Daltian Clan. The fact that this is her ideal man.... it certainly plays into readings of her as Not Straight. But at least, this conveys the way her conception of sex and romance is strongly idealised, dissociated from the bodily and from physical desire.
There are many ways to interpret that, including thinking about what types of desire this fixation is obstructing because she is not comfortable with it, but I am going to focus here on what this desire does signify. She likes the trappings of courtly romance, and is clearly comfortable putting herself in the role of the princess, being taken away on a white horse by a noble (but tormented; eyepatch has "death" on it lmao) prince. (Though I think he's actually the token male lead who isn't royalty; he's a General. There's always one in Romfan, lmao. IYKYK)
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A kiss on the hand - this is so chaste, I think it's clear it's more about desire to play a role in a dynamic than it is about desire in a physical sense. There is undoubtedly a big part of Marcille that wants to be a beloved and chased-after princess, but I think it isn't at all impossible that she'd also enjoy being the powerful, cool, and chivalrous "prince" to someone (a pretty girl, perhaps) who needs her protection.
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This is a little silly, because it's clearly just aping the shoujo artstyle that articulates basically the same idea as her succubus, that Marcille is attached to highly abstracted and idealised romantic (and Romantic) tropes and ideas. But the imaginary "successful" Marcille from chapter 4 looks quite similar to her succubus. (Another thing I noticed is that in the fantasy she has sharp ears... like full elves have. Despite what she says, I think the cultural messaging that this trait is "attractive" and hers are inferior got to her at least a bit. 😥)
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Also, the way that she treats Falin, scolding her indulgently, trying to look after her and wanting to be looked up to and respected by her... that aligns more with the "masculine" role in the trope that her succubus is referencing. "What are we going to do with you...?" I can imagine her saying this to Falin, word for word. Whereas, if anyone real started talking down to her, even affectionately, I don't think she'd like it, given the negative way she reacts when people don't respect her or her skills. Especially after canon, given the way the Winged Lion was treating her.
Her attitude to Falin is partially down to her reluctance to acknowledge Falin as an adult, who is independent and can grow beyond her and leave her behind. But I think even as they move on from that unhealthy dynamic, Marcille is still going to get pleasure from feeling capable, reliable, able to look after and protect Falin. She'd like to pull the chair out for her in a restaurant on a date, you know?
4. Conclusion
Even after the growth she goes through during the story, there are parts of Marcille's character that are very much obstructed. Romance, sexuality, and gender, feel like one of those to me. The way that her discomfort with the messy origins of food betrayed a deeper, more significant discomfort with the cycles of life and death.
Much in the same way, I'd argue that the simplified, idealistic, and safely fantastical way that she views romance, as well as her very "safe" gender presentation and tendency to push it onto others as well, suggest an underlying discomfort in her own gender and sexuality. The character growth she goes through leaves her in a place where it may be possible to safely re-evaluate her relationship with Falin, as well as her choice of clothing and hairstyle, both things that go through a change at the end of the manga. Neither, I think, reach a sustainable stopping point that we see - there will be a point when it's more servants doing her hair than friends, just out of practicality, because they're all going to be so, so busy. The black clothing to copy her mum is cute, but once she gets some more self-confidence in her own skills as a court magician, I think she'll move on from it. And... who knows what direction her relationship with Falin will develop, over the years? I'm rooting for them, anyway.
In all those cases, I think moving outside of the things she's done before, into something really different from the things that are "safe" and expected, will be the most rewarding path for her. Like in the dungeon, things that she would initially reject were actually able to sustain her and broaden her tastes. She loves dressing up, looking after people, and "princely romance". So I say: Butch Marcille! It'll be good for her!!
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thepeonysbackup · 2 months
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◇Dry Humping◇
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Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader
Summary: Gumbo, a soup that brings out more then just the taste of its ingredients, but desire from within from a source only taste can trigger. A broth that acts as a honey sculpted cup that holds the aphrodisiac to the minds most fondest of memories. Affection. That is its purest name.
Tags: Mdni, boring plot, dub con (She ultimately enjoys it), dry humping, something I came up with on the spot.
Word count: 2.2k (not proofread)
Request: Yes/No
Part two at: 600 notes!🎉
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As you stirred the ladel within the large deep pot from your place at the stove, atop your stool with your apron. You gently leaned over the pot as steam rose, inhaling the heated air so you could smell your progress, it was daring to graze the mark of heavenly, much to your excitement as you shifted to finish chopping up the vegetables that were set up on a chopping board on the off side of the stove as the radio played soft jazz in the background.
Being the kind and sweet little vixen you were, you thought you'd do the hotel a favor by cooking the rest of the staff a meal. Taking care to check on the individuals before you went all in on your choice. Angel wanted Asian food, claiming that he'd seen one of the girls at his work snacking on rice balls and wanted some too. Husk said he'd been craving seafood, groaning about how none of the places near the hotel had anything good to sell. Vaggie was bias, 'okay with whatever was cooking in your noggin' in her own words while Charlie urged you to surprise her with excited squeal. Nifty had ended up finding you before you could her, and then handed you a bag of maggots that were still very much alive and asked for a paste. Creepy, but you said okay before actually thinking it through. Pentious had taken a rather long while of thinking before he settled on soup, he wanted a tomato soup. That left you puzzled at what you could possibly make for everyone to equally enjoy, because fusing palletts with rices and seafood was a breeze, but adding a soup into the mix? Oh dear, your idea was becoming difficult to come into flourishan as you trekked down the halls of the hotel to locate the facility manager and overlord whom was currently residing in his pocket dimension like room, which never seemed to stay in a singular one of them, but shift everytime he wanted it moved. So it was a game of chance, knocking on every door you knew as vacant before finally having one opened by the smiling radio demon. He held his cane in the same hand that he had for the door, the other arm folded behind him as he tilted his head to the right in question down at you. "A meal, you say? My, I was going out this evening but I must ask what it is!" He had enthusiastically voiced through his static, but when you said you hadn't decided yet because of how different everyone's cravings were he seemed interested in also giving an option to you. "You always choose Jambalaya, why not another meal?" You complained while thinking of what you could do with all these choices. "I'm afraid it's Jambalaya, my dear. Unless you have any access to some truly delicious venison!" He chuckled out, lightly twirling his cane in his hand as he tapped it on the ground so he could lean his chin on the handle. This was so unfair, what could you possibly make that would—
"Wait, Jambalaya- Jambalaya, Cajun‐ Cajun means that rice, shrimp and- Yes, wait, hold on- Soup- Tomatoes- Vegetables and add extra meat like chicken and venison—" You babbled quickly aloud, drawing Alastors attention a bit more. He cocked a brow at you, lips thinning out as he grinned at your unintelligible banter, "My Dear, you must speak up. I simply can't understand anything when you mumble." He straightened himself up so he could examine his nails as you let out an excited noise, in all fairness it was so sudden that he had every right to tense up as you grabbed his arms suddenly in a tight grasp so you could pull him towards you, "You're a Genius Al, thank you!" You beamed, bouncyness following your stride as you began to quickly make your way back down the hallway to the stairs after letting him go like you hadn't even realized that his static was buzzing like a hornet around the two of you. You were something alright.
As you had just finished throwing the rest of the vegetables into the pot, you pulled out the spices from the lazy susan on the counter, choosing the more mild spices and only about four drops of tabasco before the basil and parsley were dashed in on top. Now the lid was placed, holding in the mouth watering scents that were to come later when they were ready. The music continued, your figure bopping gently around the kitchen as you began to get the plates ready with the rice, plopping large scoops into the bowls so you could hallow them out by pressed them inward with the bottom of the ladel you were using. At the bottom of each of the rice bowls you'd made, you added thoroughly cooked slices of venison to everyone's except Al's and Niftys. Those two were getting their own special snacks added in, the maniacs. Al's bowl got raw, uncooked deer meat at the bottom instead that and a few on a plate below his bowl that had the maggot paste for the side dip. Niftys maggot paste was poured into her bowl and topped with raw shrimp and then the cooked venison. After all of them were prepped, you picked up a rag and wiped your forehead because all you had to do was wait just a bit longer.
"Ah, so you're really cooking. I would have assumed the hotel would be in flames if anyone else were to take a chance in this room, of course Nifty can make some delicious demon spik."
"Haha, very funny Al." Your back was facing the radio demon, ears on alert as his footsteps slowly but casually drew him over to your bubbling pot, inhaling while lightly using his hand to bring the scent of the steam rising from the sides of the lid. He made a delighted noise, static almost completely gone as his claws grasped the handle of the lid and tugged it off, steam bursting upwards to show the contents within. “Well, this sure isn't Jambalaya but by good golly it's gumbo! How clever of you, little darling!” He spoke loudly, amused and seemingly with a truly gleeful smile on his face as his other hand grabbed your waist to pull you near him as he examined your work, nose catching whiff of a different scent near as well. “And if my nose doesn't deceive me," He inhaled deeply near your ear, nose just barely grazing your cheek as he leaned further up until his head was resting above yours, using his height to allow himself to break character for a moment, his eyes turning wide with dials fixed in the center as blood stains began to run down his chin from how hard he was grinning,
"₮Ⱨ₳₮ ĐɆⱠɆ₵₮₳฿ⱠɆ ₴₵Ɇ₦₮ ł₴ VɆ₦ł₴Ø₦.."
The harsh sound of his static made you wince, body tensed further, “Yes, I thought it would be a nice addition, the meats flavor is a bit different and so when you eat it with the broth i-it tastes mildly spicier then without it.” His voice buzzed, a satisfied noise leaving him as he side stepped around you, now back to his normal cheery grin as he took hold of one of the raw slabs of venison and dangled it above his mouth before slowly opening his jaws like a snake threatening to attack. Then, with a swift move, he clamped down on the thin piece of meat and tore it out of his hand in a single whip of her head to the side. “Truly a marvelous snack you've provided here, darling doe.” His nicknames were slowly progressing to more dearing comparisons, making you flush as you lifted you ladel and placed it back into the pot to stir it, but not before you climbed back onto your stool to do so.
-
Time went by as you cooked, Alastor remaining hovering with his quiet buzz of static as he enjoyed the meat that you had to offer, the fact that you had taken so much time just to get everything you had needed for him making him feel as though he was more important, even if you were making dinner for everyone. His eyes held true to your figure, that smile that forever kept its place on his face widening as he slowly lost himself in thought as he observed your lips lightly shy away from the utensil you'd pulled from the hot boil to get a taste of the broth, the contents being too hot to consume so suddenly before you blew on it. He reveled in the way you moaned at the creamy liquid, eyes shutting blissfully as a hand came to cover your lips like it would hide the long trickle of the broth from his sight. No, he saw it, and how he craved to be the very thing that would lick the taste off you, the tongue that would replace your own that darted so quickly out to take the drop for itself. That, nostalgic.. that warm and soft, dare he say heavenly taste from your lips, from your tongue. Alastors static began to grow in volume, his body inching closer to yours on the stool as he felt a growing pain from below at your half bent over form over the stovetop. “Do you often leave yourself so openly vulnerable to just anybody.. or… Am I just lucky?” He asked, suddenly right against your ear from behind, both hands atop each of yours as his physique pressed you into the dangerously hot Kitchenware. “What?-” You had asked, bewildered at the sudden change in atmosphere the room was in just moments ago. 
Alastor hadn't really heard you, ears pressing back into his head as he pressed his crotch against the plush softness of your ruffled skirt, lightly moving the fabric of his bulge against your rear in slow rolls of his hips. It was sudden, hesitant almost, as if Al hadn't been planning for this to happen whatsoever. “I asked you a question, hmpf- d-dearest..” He hushed against the back of your neck, nipping it with his teeth with a hiss, his hands that had yours pinned down gripping harder to keep you in place as the stretchy fabric of your skirt rode up on your ass at the force used in his motions. The friction had you boggled in the brain, a few noises of concerned pleasure rising up into your throat as you thought hard about his question. “Ahn- N—no-..” She answered, earning a tut from the overlord behind her, the fabric of your panties were getting bunched up and pulled down about half way, “That's not a proper answer, now is it Mon Cher?” A little cry escaped you, the feeling of his pants rough texture against your soft petals making tears of overstimulation well in your big doe eyes. “I-I— I don't know- I can't- Ouu- Fuck!-” Alastor hushed you, a hand freeing one of yours so his could trail up to your neck so it could wrap around it in a firm grip. Your pretty face being cranned upwards and back so he could see the fucked out blissful expression on your face as your own hand reeled back to hold fast against his hip, a last attempt to push him away being futile as his movements became more spurred by you noises, faster and faster. "Such vulgarity," He groaned into your ear, breath hot and growling excitedly, "Speak again, speak to me. Tell me how you crave more, Mon Cher-" Your voice called to him, his name slipping past your lips like a hymn, a lament, a song.
Oh, how he adored your voice, strained and laced with need.
How he desired more as the coil in his mind snapped, antlers growing in size as he hunched over and into your back, head lightly using you as stability while his demonic form grew, long arms and gnarly claws digging into your clothes enough to tear the flesh, not only fabric. The dials of his eyes spun, his legs buckling as your bare cunts juices flowed lazily down his front, the warmth he felt as he released as well pulling a guttural growl from his throat as the both of you eased into a slower more controlled pace.
This hadn't gone as planned, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining.
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punkshort · 12 days
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Roommates | 3. fun in the sun
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Pairing: pornstar!joel x f!reader
Chapter Summary: Maria organizes a getaway to Lake Travis for a long weekend. You invite your new boyfriend, but things quickly deteriorate, leaving Joel to help you pick up the pieces.
Chapter Warnings: language, smoking cigarettes, alcohol consumption, flirting, sexual tension, jealousy, mutual pining, smut (18+ MDNI), semi-pubic sex, fingering, hand job, description of a panic attack, heartbreak, food consumption, golf
WC: 8.4K
Series Masterlist
Charlie was cute.
Well, cute didn't seem like the right word, and handsome sounded too stiff. But he was both those things and more. You discovered he was also very dapper when you met him for lunch one day during work. He wore a perfectly tailored dark blue suit with a crisp white shirt. One button was left open at the top, revealing a sliver of his tanned skin underneath. You almost felt out of place wearing what you thought was one of your nicer dresses when he took you to some steakhouse you never heard of that didn't have the prices on the menu and you began to wonder how he didn't own a home yet since he appeared so successful.
"I never have the time to look, to be honest," he told you with a shrug. "Work keeps me busy during the week, and even some weekends. Then between grocery shopping and laundry and occasionally going to parties and meeting super pretty girls," he smiled with a wink and you giggled, "I just never find the time to house hunt."
"I guess I got lucky with Maria doing all the heavy lifting for me," you joked as you picked at the remains of your salad.
"Yeah, and she did a great job. It's a good starter house," he said with a nod before checking his phone.
"Mm, I don't know about starter. She was hoping to raise a family in that neighborhood one day. She really likes the schools."
Charlie made a little noise and you glanced up. "What?" you asked with a small smile.
"Nothing, it's nothing," Charlie said, setting his phone back down on the table. When you tilted your head and gave him a look, he sighed. "It's a fine area of town, I just personally would prefer to raise a family elsewhere."
"Oh, yeah? Like where?"
"Barton Creek would be great," he said, and you nearly choked on your drink.
"Barton Creek? That's like, so expensive," you laughed but his mouth didn't twitch. Your smile slowly fell and you said, "are you serious?"
"Of course I'm serious. You wouldn't want to live there?"
You huffed and sat back in your chair. "Yeah, sure, in my dreams. But I could never afford something like that."
Charlie leaned forward and took your hand. "But one day, maybe you could. If you go back to school at night and really apply yourself, it would only take a few years-"
"I told you I'm not interested in becoming a lawyer," you said, smiling up as the waiter cleared your plates. "I'm happy doing what I'm doing right now."
"Well, I'm just saying. You're young, there's options out there. You should really give it some thought."
At the time, you thought Charlie was being sweet and encouraging by trying to help you reach your full potential, but you would later discover you were wrong.
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"I want to get out of town for a bit," Maria said at family dinner one night. You all looked up at her, bracing yourselves for whatever she had already planned in her head. "What do you think about renting a spot on Lake Travis?"
She immediately clocked the table's hesitation. "Just a long weekend. Four days on the lake, get out of this heat and on the water. Doesn't that sound nice?"
"When?" Tommy asked, and Maria knew instantly she had won.
She gave him a few different options while he scrolled the calendar in his phone to look at his work schedule. Weekends were hard for Tommy and hit or miss with Joel, so she knew it would be a tough sell.
Tommy picked a weekend and Maria's eyes lit up. Joel was about to decline when you piped up and agreed to go and suddenly, he couldn't resist.
"Amazing!" Maria said, clapping her hands giddily. She picked up her phone and began to look at availability for lodging. "You can invite Charlie, too, of course," she added without looking up.
"Oh, right," you said, feeling stupid for not even considering him. "Yeah, let me see if he's free."
Joel's heart sank and he looked down at his food, pushing the pasta around on his plate while you texted that guy you've been seeing, completely unaware that it was tearing him up inside. He tried to not let it bother him and he thought he was doing a really good job so far, but he wasn't sure how he would be able to handle four days in the same house, watching him touch you and kiss you and make you laugh. All the things he wanted to be doing, and more, but couldn't.
"He can come for Saturday and Sunday but he has to work Friday and Monday," you announced. Okay, so two days of watching another man touch what should be his.
Maria spent the rest of the night planning the trip while Joel bit his tongue. Why couldn't Charlie take off work a month in advance? he wanted to ask. Doesn't he want to spend time with you?
But of course, he didn't say a word. He and Tommy listened as the two of you researched activities, restaurants and bars in the area and planned out the weekend, making sure to carve out enough time to relax on the beach because you knew that's what he and Tommy really wanted to do. Fuck, he couldn't wait to see you in a bikini.
"Aren't you excited?" you asked him when Tommy and Maria headed up to bed.
"'Course I am."
"You don't seem like it. I thought this would be right up your alley."
"Oh, yeah?" he asked, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees. "Why's that?"
You grinned and settled back into the couch. "Girls on the beach, obviously. Dripping wet from the water or sweating from the heat. I thought you would be more excited."
"I am," he said, leaving out that he was excited to see you dripping wet from the water or sweat. You hummed and stretched out your legs on the couch.
"Feel like watching a movie?" you asked, and he quickly nodded.
He knew it was pathetic but he couldn't help it. Any amount of time you wanted to spend with him alone, he would take. And when you curled up under a blanket and shoved your feet underneath his thigh while you watched the TV, it took everything in him not to pull you into his lap and press his lips against yours.
Because you were spoken for. And that would be wrong.
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It was so fucking hot.
The day you left for the lake, the temperature was close to record breaking and all of you had to admit once you were in the comfort of the air conditioned truck that Maria's plan to get out of town was truly inspired. And once you arrived at the house you rented, you had to give Maria even more credit because the place was stunning.
It was a two story cabin with four bedrooms, a spacious living area and a kitchen behind it. The walls were all made of wood, stained a dark cherry for ambiance while the house sat a mere ten minute walk to the beach.
"Oh my god, this place is so cool," you said softly as you walked around the upper level, checking out each bedroom. It was hard to choose, they were all equally beautiful and had great views of the small forest around you, so you didn't mind when Tommy and Maria picked the master suite. Each room had its own charm.
The first evening you were there, you decided to go to dinner and then hit up a bar nearby, just the four of you. Charlie had planned on arriving sometime the next morning and then you would head to the beach, where you would spend a majority of the day getting tan and drinking whatever was coldest from the cooler you brought from home.
"Okay, do not even start that shit with me, Joel! You know I have a fear of heights! I'm not going anywhere near that fucking thing!"
He laughed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you walked down the boardwalk behind Tommy and Maria.
"It ain't even that high! It's just a goddamn ferris wheel!"
"I don't care, I'm not going on it. You guys can go and have a lovely time. I will stay down here, safe on the ground where I can't plummet to my death."
"C'mon, now. You know I won't let anythin' bad happen to you," Joel said, his voice dropping an octave lower as he pulled you in closer, the alcohol coursing through both your veins began to call the shots when you leaned into his hold.
"And what are you gonna do, Joel, if the thing breaks and I'm stuck up there? Do you have some superpowers I'm not aware of?"
"No, I think you're aware of all my superpowers," he teased, making you blush and shove him away with a laugh. "But I know I could distract you. Help keep your mind off it til help arrives."
You stumbled a bit as you laughed harder, Tommy and Maria leaving you behind when they spotted an ice cream stand.
"Yeah, I bet you would. Telling me shitty jokes or more stories of how you tormented Tommy on the school bus?"
Joel grinned and grabbed your hand, yanking you into him again as you continued to walk past various bars and restaurants packed with tourists.
"Both would work, I'm sure of it, but I had somethin' else in mind," he said without thinking, getting too carried away in the moment. It felt too good, it felt so natural as you walked with your fingers linked together around your shoulders and your head leaning against the side of his chest.
"Oh yeah? Like what?" you giggled, then hiccuped, then giggled again. Why did you have to be so fucking cute?
He opened his mouth to say something he would probably regret in the morning, then bit his tongue when you looked up at him curiously. You saw the look in his eye and you cleared your throat, leaning away from him when you realized how inappropriate the two of you must have looked.
"Maybe I'll try the smaller one," you said, trying to steer the conversation back after the awkward moment.
"Nah, I'm just teasin' you. Don't do anythin' you ain't comfortable with," he told you, making you smile right as you caught up with Tommy and Maria. He loved making you smile.
"You guys wanna head back?" Tommy asked, tossing a handful of used napkins in a nearby trash can.
"Yeah, I should probably get to bed. Charlie's getting here early tomorrow and he wanted to try to get a hike in before the beach," you said, pulling your phone out to see if you had any missed texts from him. Joel swallowed and looked away.
"A hike? Since when are you a hiker?" Maria said with a laugh. You shrugged and grinned before looping your arm with hers, heading back in the direction of the house.
"Charlie must really like her," Tommy said as he walked side by side with Joel, both of them watching you and Maria giggling and poking each other in the ribs. "Always took him for a workaholic. Surprised he would be interested in coming out here."
Joel frowned before lighting up a cigarette. "It's the weekend. Didn't think he worked on the weekends."
"Oh, he doesn't, but he likes to put in extra time. Always chasin' that next promotion. Always been that way."
Joel exhaled a puff of smoke before replying. "How'd you know him again?"
"Used to work at the bar with me, if you can believe it," Tommy said, "but it was just somethin' to keep money in his pocket while he finished school. He was always a hard worker, even behind the bar. Real focused, y'know? Wasn't surprised at all when he got a job right outta college with that finance company."
Joel took another drag from his cigarette and allowed his gaze to drift to the curve of your ass in your shorts, knowing that the darkness would give him cover. "And you stayed friends all these years? Doesn't sound like you got much in common."
Tommy shrugged. "He's a nice guy and fun to hang out with when he lets loose. Used to be a good wingman back in the day. But he's the type of guy who's real driven. Sets his sights on a goal and will do whatever it takes to get it. I think his parents put alotta pressure on him growin' up."
Joel nodded and flicked his cigarette onto the pavement as they walked up the driveway to the house. He should be happy for you. It sounded like Charlie was a catch but he couldn't stop from comparing himself to your boyfriend. Even if he quit his job tomorrow and started over doing something normal, he would never reach the level of success Charlie had.
He didn't stand a chance in hell.
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Maria was right. You were decidedly not a hiker. But Charlie seemed so excited to explore the area and you were just so grateful he took time out of his busy schedule to spend an entire weekend with you that you felt compelled to agree.
At least he gave you a great view of his muscular back as you trailed behind him, your legs ready to give out from the exertion any minute.
"I bet you made so much money as a bartender," you told him. He turned around and shot you a smirk.
"You checking me out back there?"
"Can you blame me?" you giggled.
"It's beautiful out here, babe," he said once you reached a high point with a clearing. He took a swig of water while you caught your breath. "Thanks for inviting me. I've never been out this way before."
"Really?" you asked in disbelief, "it's not that far from the city."
"Yeah, well, you know how it is," was all he said. You sat down on a fallen tree and stretched out your legs while Charlie took a few pictures of the view.
"Isn't Joel seeing anyone he could have invited this weekend?" Charlie asked out of the blue. You paused for a moment, taken off guard at the thought of Joel with a girlfriend. Something you never really considered before.
"Uh, I don't think he's seeing anyone serious," you replied.
Charlie chuckled and sat down next to you. "He's a bit of a fifth wheel, don't you think?"
Your face twisted up in disapproval when you looked at him. "Not at all. He's, like, part of our family. If anything-"
You stopped yourself before finishing your sentence but it didn't matter. Charlie furrowed his brow and glared at you.
"What? If anything, I'm the fifth wheel?"
"I didn't say that."
"But you were about to."
You sighed and rubbed your eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. It's just because we all live together, that's all."
He scoffed and stood up, brushing off the back of his shorts before picking up his water bottle from the ground.
"We should head back," he grumbled as the guilt settled deep in your chest. You stood and wrapped your fingers around his bicep.
"Wait, come here," you said softly. He sighed and hung his head before turning around to face you. "I'm sorry. Really. I am," you reached up to cup his face and pressed your lips tenderly against his. You felt him relax into your touch and you smiled against his lips. "Can I make it up to you later?" you asked suggestively, and Charlie laughed.
"I'll hold you to it," he said with a playful swat on your ass. You squeaked and he grabbed your hand. "Let's get back. I wanna go to the beach and relax with you."
"That sounds amazing," you said dreamily as you followed him back the way you came, grateful the trail was now downhill.
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Joel didn't like Charlie.
And it wasn't because he had his hands all over you the entire fucking day, but that didn't help matters. He tried to keep an open mind, he really did, but something about him just felt off. It clicked with Joel later when he noticed Charlie had encouraged you to cover up your bikini before heading over to the bar to grab some drinks, even though they had brought plenty to share in the cooler. You had initially protested, laughing him off when you thought he was joking, but gave in when you realized he didn't want other men staring at you at the bar.
Charlie was trying to control you and you didn't even realize it.
Those chips are terrible for you, babe. Try these instead. They're baked.
You gotta reapply sunscreen after swimming. Don't you know that, babe?
What are you reading that trash for? You gotta let me broaden your horizons, babe.
Babe. Babe. Babe. Babe.
It was really getting under Joel's fucking skin.
"You're so quiet today," you said, plopping down next to him after spreading out a towel on the sand.
"Am I?"
You gave him a look and grinned. "Yeah. What's up with you? Did you not sleep good or something?"
Joel shrugged and looked out at the water, grateful his sunglasses were able to disguise his feelings on that particular day. "Not really."
You hummed and regarded him silently for another moment before lying flat on your back, stretching yourself out to bask in the sun's warm rays. You took off your sunglasses and closed your eyes with a contented sigh while he fought the urge to stare at your perfect body so goddamn close to him.
He forced himself to scan the beach, looking for anything to keep his mind off your soft skin coated in a thin sheen of sweat just within an arm's reach. He felt a stirring below his waist when he imagined running his tongue between your breasts, licking up the sweat collecting there.
"Everything okay?" you asked when Charlie reappeared, his phone in hand. Joel shifted and tried to subtly rest his book over his crotch.
"Yeah, just a quick work call. Hey Joel, I think that girl's checking you out," Charlie said, sitting down in the sand next to you.
Joel resisted the urge to roll his eyes and forced himself to be nice. For your sake.
"Oh yeah? Where?"
"The one in the white bikini. Blonde hair, big tits."
You whipped your head in Charlie's direction, unable to keep the shock from your tone when you whispered his name in disbelief. Joel tried not to watch but he could tell you were offended and he hardly blamed you. Who says that in front of their girlfriend?
"Not really my type," Joel said, settling back in his chair and closing his eyes.
"Not your type?" Charlie scoffed, and Joel cracked open one eye, once again grateful for his sunglasses because he caught you trying to silently shut Charlie up, but he continued to ignore you. "If she's not your type then who is?"
Your fucking girlfriend is my type, asshole, he wanted to say. Instead he just shrugged and hoped he would drop it.
He didn't.
"Come on, why don't you at least try to talk to her. Maybe invite her to dinner tonight. Then it would be all couples for once."
"Charlie," you hissed, a little louder this time. "He's not interested. Leave him alone."
"What's the problem? You were just saying earlier how you wished Joel would find a girl. I'm just trying to give him a little encouragement," Charlie said with a smirk. Your mouth fell open and you shook your head but it was too late. Joel's heart plummeted into his stomach and the familiar sting of rejection crept up his throat, strangling him. If you were privately telling Charlie you wanted him find someone, that must mean you were really over him, and whatever foolish shred of hope he was clinging to was all for nothing.
"I never said that! Joel, I'm so sorry," you said, scrambling up from the sand and turning on Charlie angrily. "Why would you-"
"It's fine," Joel said curtly, standing up and brushing the sand off his swim trunks. "You're right. I'm gonna go talk to her."
You twisted your neck to look up at him, your mouth opening and shutting as you struggled to come up with something to say.
"Y-yeah. I mean... go for it," you stammered and watched as Joel made his way across the beach. Even from a distance you could see the girl's face light up as he approached and you felt a pit form in your stomach.
"Why would you lie to him like that?" you asked Charlie with a scowl. He grinned and settled back into his chair with a book.
"I just had a feeling if a close friend motivated him, he would do it. Poor guy needs to get laid."
Fortunately you could blame the heat from the sun on your reddening cheeks. Charlie had no idea what Joel really did for work. You always skirted around the question whenever it was brought up because deep down, you knew Charlie would have a problem with it.
You slipped your sunglasses back on with a sigh and crossed your arms, still pissed off with Charlie but not in the mood to get into an argument. You tried not to stare as Joel flirted with the girl in the white bikini. She leaned into him and playfully shoved his shoulder with a giggle and your chest tightened when you saw him thread his fingers together with hers and lead her towards the bar.
You had absolutely no right to get jealous. Joel wasn't your boyfriend for that exact reason: jealousy. You had your own boyfriend who was very smart, handsome and successful. And sure, sometimes Charlie pushed you into doing things out of your comfort zone, but he was trying to help you grow as a person. So if he was so great, why did you spend so much time thinking about Joel?
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Chelsea was sweet, in her late twenties, got her degree in economics and also spent the better part of half an hour subtly rubbing her ass against Joel's hips at the bar. It was crowded, being right on the beach, and getting louder and rowdier as the afternoon dragged on. At first, Joel thought it was an accident, that the crowds of people forced her to press up against him. But he soon discovered it was quite intentional when she ducked her hand under the bar to rub his cock through his swim trunks.
"Whoa, what're you doin' down there?" he chuckled. She beamed up at him innocently.
"Feel like going for a swim?" she asked. He thought she was ignoring his question until they got in the water, swimming out a ways where it was quiet, but not too deep. Chelsea glanced around before wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her mouth against his, wasting no time slipping her tongue past his lips with a soft moan.
"I recognized you," she admitted, dragging her mouth down the column of his throat and dipping her hand below the water. He hissed when she slid past his waistband and wrapped her hand around his cock.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Mhmm," she said with a mischievous grin, her fist languidly stroking him up and down where nobody could see. "You're in dirty movies."
He laughed and squeezed her hips, encouraging her to come closer to him.
"You got me."
Even though she had her hand down his shorts in the middle of a lake surrounded by people enjoying a hot summer day, he had to admit that Charlie was right about her. She was sexy and charming and he liked how confident she was. She also seemed more than okay with his profession, which thrilled him. Maybe this was something that could actually work.
The first red flag came when he had two fingers curled inside her and she murmured I bet I feel better than those girls you have to fuck, huh?
It took him off guard for a moment but he shrugged it off, thinking it was just an idea that turned her on, so he told her yeah, so tight, baby.
The second red flag was when she asked are you gonna think about me next time you're at work?
His hips stuttered a bit underwater and he could feel the mental block building up. He tried kissing Chelsea to keep her from talking but it was too late, so instead he focused all his energy on getting her off with his fingers. Her grip loosened around his cock when she came, her moans muffled against his mouth. She grabbed at his shoulders desperately as her muscles went lax and he whispered I got you and held her against his chest until she caught her breath.
Over Chelsea's shoulder he could see you and Charlie on the beach. It was far away but he could spot you anywhere. While Chelsea murmured into his skin and raked her fingers through his hair, his eyes were pinned on you. You were standing up and brushing the sand off your legs, your perfect ass sticking out when you bent over in that hot pink bikini that was driving him fucking crazy all day.
Chelsea's hand was wrapped around his cock again, the mental block disappearing the longer he watched you. He groaned when you began to rub sunscreen into your arms, your tits bouncing with each and every movement. Chelsea took that as a sign to go faster. She whispered in his ear how big he was and before he even had a chance to stop it, his mind was imagining you saying that, instead. He remembered how nervous you were but then how you begged for his cock and his hips began to thrust into her hand underwater. Then, his breath caught in his throat when he watched you untie your bikini top, your arm holding the tiny pieces of fabric against your chest as the strings hung loose and you positioned yourself face down on the towel to tan in the sun.
"Fuck," Joel groaned, his cock pulsing in Chelsea's hand as he came. His breath was ragged and he fought to stand up in the water and not succumb to sinking to the bottom of the lake. She seemed to sense his struggle because she whispered in his ear let's go back.
As he swam to shore, the guilt began to wash over him for thinking about you when he was with another girl. That wasn't his intention at all. It was disrespectful to both you and Chelsea. But you were directly in his eyeline and he couldn't seem to stop himself. He could do better. He would do better.
"Hey, what're you doin' for dinner? A few of my friends are all goin' to this Italian place-"
"Oh," Chelsea said, cutting him off in surprise when they finally made it to the beach. "I'm sorry, thank you, but I have plans tonight."
He was a little disappointed but he knew giving a girl he just met a couple hours notice to go to dinner was asking a lot. "Don't worry 'bout it. Can I get your number? Maybe we can meet up tomorrow?"
Chelsea gave him a disbelieving look as she adjusted her swimsuit. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah, 'course I am. I'd like to get to know you better," he said with a lopsided grin. She laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of her neck and that was when Joel felt the uneasiness settle deep in his chest.
"I'm sorry, Joel. I thought this was just a hook up," she said, biting her lip and glancing around the beach. He could feel the smile fall from his face but he cleared his throat, trying to hide his disappointment.
"Y-yeah, sure, I get it."
"I mean, you're really sweet and all, it's just... you know," she said with a little shrug. He swallowed and nodded. He knew. You can't take a pornstar home to meet your parents.
"Maybe I'll see you around?" he said, and Chelsea nodded. She kissed him goodbye and he watched as she made her way down the beach towards her group of friends, who had been watching with great interest.
He was living every man's dream and he couldn't feel shittier about it.
He didn't want to just hook up with random girls anymore. It was fun when he was in his twenties but now it just felt pathetic. He sighed and turned his head in your direction. Charlie looked like he had dozed off in his chair while you were still laying face down with your eyes closed on your towel, your smooth skin coated with a sheen of sweat, pinkening under the sun's rays.
As he began to walk back towards the pair of you, he spotted Tommy and Maria making their way over from the opposite side of the beach, having done their own excursion for a couple hours that day and promised to catch up with the rest of you before dinner.
Joel was relieved. At least there would be a buffer.
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Admittedly, Joel drank a little too much at dinner. He was still a little bothered by his afternoon with Chelsea, but he would have gotten over it had Charlie not picked at the scab every chance he got. First, he ribbed him about not being able to seal the deal when he showed up to dinner alone, but Joel just politely laughed it off. Then, as dinner progressed and the table was on their third round, Charlie began to point out girls around the restaurant who looked like they could be single, asking Joel if he thought they were his type with a teasing lilt to his voice.
You hadn't really been paying attention. You were too engrossed with something Maria was saying, leaning across the table excitedly as the thin strap of your sundress slid down your shoulder. Your skin was practically glowing from the sun, your eyes sparkled when you giggled with Maria and Joel was finding it more and more difficult to keep his gaze off you. Charlie either didn't notice or care. His arm was resting along the back of your chair, his thumb brushing against your back or your arm while he explained to Tommy the Chelsea backstory. Tommy's eyes flickered back and forth between Charlie and Joel, providing a few forced chuckles at his teasing, then changed the subject the first chance he got.
"What d'we wanna do tonight?" he had asked, breaking up your private conversation at the other end of the table.
"Why don't we hit the boardwalk?" Charlie offered, tossing back the rest of his old fashioned.
"We did that last night," you said.
"It's my only night here, babe. I wanna check out the rides and shit."
Joel's jaw tensed and he looked down at the table.
Of course, everyone agreed, so once dinner was over they all strolled down the sidewalk towards all the bright lights, the intoxicating smell of sugar and the sound of carnival games in the air. Charlie spotted the Ferris wheel and snatched your hand.
"C'mon, babe, let's check it out!"
You stopped dead in your tracks, making him spin around in surprise. "I don't like heights, I'll just wait-"
"Oh, come on! It'll be romantic," Charlie murmured suggestively, pulling you into his chest and pinching your chin. Joel hurriedly walked past to catch up with Tommy and Maria, unable to stand there and watch him kiss you. He knew he was being unreasonable. He knew he had to get his jealousy under control or else it would drive a wedge between the two of you and he couldn't possibly risk that. You meant far too much to him. So, he tried to distance himself for the remainder of the night. He hung out with Tommy and Maria, checking out various shops, getting candied apples and playing games while he forced himself to not look over his shoulder and seek you out.
Looking back on it, he probably shouldn't have gotten that beer and shot at the bar after Tommy and Maria ducked into a photo booth. His head was already swimming from the drinks at dinner but he really didn't want to be awake later to hear you and Charlie through the walls.
Tommy and Maria found him after the photo booth and showed him the strip of pictures, laughing at some of the props and faces they were making when Maria suggested they take a ride on the ferris wheel since it would likely be their last chance. Joel told them he would just wait, not wanting to admit the mere thought of those little cars swaying back and forth made his stomach churn with the amount of alcohol he had drank that night.
He was smoking a cigarette and scrolling on his phone, sitting on a bench near the ferris wheel after Tommy and Maria had gotten in line when he heard you. The panic in your voice sent a jolt of fear down his spine and he jumped up, flicking his cigarette on the ground as he whipped his head back and forth, searching for you. Finally, he spotted you pushing your way through the crowds of people in front of the ride, your face red and soaked with tears. His heart sank and he rushed over just as Charlie emerged a few seconds behind you. When he reached out to touch your arm, you yanked it back so forcefully that you fell on your hands and knees, scraping your skin against the hot blacktop.
Joel called your name and you looked up frantically, your chest heaving. You reached out a shaky arm towards him and he immediately pulled you up off the ground, his eyes raking up and down your body, assessing you for damage. Aside from some red scrapes on your hands and knees from the fall, you appeared fine, but you clawed at his arms and gasped I can't breathe and his heart began to slam wildly in his chest. He held you up against him and twisted around, trying to spot a paramedic when Charlie waved you both off with a dry laugh.
"Bro, she's fine, she just got scared on the ferris wheel."
"She's not fine, fuckin' look at her!" Joel yelled, turning a few heads, but he didn't care. He dropped his gaze to your face, cupping your jaw and wiping your tears away. "You're alright. Hey, c'mon, you can do this. Take a deep breath in through your nose, like this. Watch-" he inhaled deeply and you did the same through clenched teeth, then he exhaled slowly, pursing his lips as you continued to follow his lead. He did it a few more times until the tears stopped and your color returned to normal.
"You alright?" he asked softly, brushing your hair away from your face. You nodded and looked around for somewhere to sit. He seemed to read your mind because he led you by the elbow towards the bench he vacated. Giving you a chance to catch your breath, he turned on Charlie.
"What the fuck, man? Why'd you make her go on that goddamn thing?"
His nostrils were flaring and he could feel the anger bubbling up into his chest.
"I didn't force her to do anything," Charlie said with a frown. "She's a fucking adult, she made her own decision-"
"Because you fuckin' pressured her!" Joel shouted, taking a menacing step forward. "I heard her tell you she was afraid of heights so don't bullshit me."
Charlie's hand clenched into a fist and his jaw tensed. "Why don't you mind your own fucking business before I knock you on your ass?"
"Is that a threat?" Joel countered, closing the distance between him and Charlie, staring him dead in the eye as he waited for him to make a move.
You shoved yourself off the bench and quickly wedged yourself between the two men, a palm pressed against each of their chests, pushing them apart. "Stop it, please," you begged, "I just wanna go back to the house."
They stared each other down for another moment before Charlie looked away with a scoff. He grabbed your hand and muttered something under his breath as he began to lead you away, but when you passed by Joel, you stopped.
"Thank you," you told him softly. You reached out to grab his hand and gave it a grateful squeeze. He nodded and forced a small smile before Charlie tugged on your other hand. Joel watched until the two of you disappeared into the crowd before he sighed and collapsed back onto the bench. He raked his fingers through his hair, trying to get his temper under control when Tommy and Maria walked over, hand in hand with huge grins on their faces.
"You missed such a great view, Joel," Maria said, then looked around the boardwalk, asking where he thought you and Charlie went.
"Back to the house," was all Joel said before gruffly standing up and lighting another cigarette to help with the burst of adrenaline still coursing through his veins.
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Joel managed to calm down by the time the three of them arrived back at the house. He replayed what he had said and done over and over and just hoped that you didn't hold it against him. It didn't seem like you were pissed with him when you left but he knew his actions just made the next day incredibly awkward, so Joel decided once he saw Charlie in the morning, he would apologize.
When he walked by your closed bedroom door, it was quiet with the exception of the water running in the bathroom. He slipped into his own bedroom down the hall, then turned on the TV and fell asleep.
He slept in a little later than he intended but he had a hunch he wasn't the only one. It seemed like everyone had a little too much to drink the night before and from the sound of the plates and silverware clinking together in the kitchen below, everyone was getting a slow start to the day.
"Mornin'," Joel mumbled to Tommy, who was sitting at the table, rubbing his eyes over a steaming cup of coffee. He glanced up and nodded in return before bringing the mug to his lips and taking a sip.
"Need help with anythin'?" Joel asked Maria who was busy cracking eggs. She laughed and shook her head.
"Go sit down. You look like you feel about as shitty as your brother."
Joel didn't need to be told twice. He sat down next to Tommy with a grunt, his hands curling around his own cup of coffee, blankly staring down at it, hoping it would bring him back to life.
"Hey," Tommy whispered, eyeing Maria from across the room who was busy gathering things from the fridge. Joel leaned forward and arched an eyebrow. "Charlie left real early this mornin'. I heard a car door slam and noticed his car's gone when we got downstairs."
"Shit," Joel muttered, glancing over at Maria quickly, making sure she didn't notice them gossiping about her best friend.
"Think they got in a fight or somethin'?" Tommy asked, but right as Joel opened his mouth to tell him the details of what happened the night before, Maria bounced over to them with a plate in each hand.
"I'm gonna go wake them up," she said, turning on her heel. Joel gave Tommy a curious look and he just shrugged.
"Didn't tell her," was all he said, then rolled his wrist in the air. "Tell me before they come down."
Joel managed to give Tommy the bullet points then began quickly shoveling eggs into his mouth when they heard Maria descending the steps. She entered the kitchen with her hands on her hips, looking concerned.
"What's up, baby?" Tommy asked innocently. She swiveled her finger around in the air as the gears turned in her head.
"Charlie left."
They both did a good job of acting surprised as Maria sat down with her own plate of food and with a hushed voice, told them you were upset and didn't want to come down for breakfast.
"Did they break up?" Joel asked, realizing too late that he sounded a little too eager, but Maria didn't seem to pick up on it. She was biting her nail, worried about you and trying to figure out how to navigate the rest of the day.
"I think so."
Conflicted was the only word to describe what Joel felt in that moment. He really didn't like Charlie but he hated the idea that he could be partially responsible for your pain.
After they finished eating, Maria checked the time and tapped her foot. "I think I should cancel the zip-line, Tommy," she said, "I don't want to leave her here all alone." Maria had planned for her, Tommy and Joel to zip-line over the beach, overlooking the lake. Knowing your fear of heights, she had intentionally picked that day, expecting you and Charlie to spend some alone time together.
"I'll stay, you two go," Joel said immediately, picking up their plates and heading to the sink.
"Are you sure?" Tommy asked, and Joel nodded.
"I'm not exactly in the best shape to be flying through the air, anyway."
"And I am?" Tommy replied, but Maria shoved his shoulder and put her finger to her lips behind Joel's back while he scrubbed the plates. "Uh, yeah, thanks Joel. You let us know if you end up goin' out and we'll meet up."
Joel stayed downstairs, alternating between going on his phone or watching TV. When it got closer to noon and you still hadn't come down, he began to worry. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a couple water bottles. Putting them on the counter, he scoured the fridge and scratched his chin. He was always a terrible cook, so he gave up quickly and resorted to ordering a couple burgers for delivery before taking the waters upstairs.
He rapped two knuckles gently on the door, then heard some shuffling before your voice called out, inviting him in.
"Oh, sweetheart," he said sympathetically when he saw your puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. You sat up in bed and tried to run your fingers through your tangled hair before sighing and giving up.
"Leave it to me to get dumped on vacation."
He gave you a sad smile and held out a bottle of water, which you eagerly accepted. He sat down on the edge of your bed and watched as you drained almost the entire bottle, then handed you his. You thanked him and set both on the end table before turning your attention back on your television, which he hadn't even realized was on.
"Legally Blonde?"
"I wanted to laugh but I forgot she gets dumped in, like, the first twenty minutes."
Joel chuckled and leaned back against your headboard. "I'm so sorry. If it was 'bout last night-"
"It's not your fault," you sniffled, pulling the comforter up to your chin.
"You wanna talk about it?"
"Not yet."
He hummed and nodded, turning back to the television. He gave you all the time and space you needed, staying close by for the rest of the afternoon in case you wanted to talk, only leaving to get the burgers when they arrived. You ate them in your bed, grease dripping from your fingers and laughing at stupid movies until you felt good enough to get up and shower.
"You wanna go mini golfing?" you asked over your shoulder as you fixed your hair in the mirror. Joel cringed but agreed. He absolutely hated golfing, but for you, he would suffer through it. Especially considering your mood seemed to be improving.
"Lemme text Tommy and let 'em know where we're goin'," he said, pulling out his phone and following you out the door.
"Oh, let's just do our own thing tonight," you said, then cleared your throat when you realized how that sounded. "I mean, y'know, they probably want time to themselves, right?"
"Yeah, sure," Joel agreed, side eying you before hopping into the truck. You gave him directions to a mini golf course ten minutes away, then rolled down the window and stretched your arm out, the warm summer air slipping through your wiggling fingers. Even though the sun had set, the air was still so thick with heat it felt like you could grab it.
"It's so hot," you said, sliding out of the passenger seat once Joel parked the truck. You fixed your skirt; a flowy, white number that felt feather light against your thighs as you walked. Joel agreed and checked his phone, noticing a text from Tommy.
"Hold up," he said, and you twisted around, your tennis shoes crunching on the gravel parking lot.
We're gonna go to that Mexican place. 30 minutes.
"They're invitin' us to dinner," he told you without looking up.
"Tell him we already ate."
He nodded and tapped out a quick reply before pocketing the phone and approached the cashier.
"Two tonight?" she asked, smacking her gum between her teeth.
"Yes, but I'll pay for mine," you said, reaching for your wallet.
"Nuh-uh," Joel said with a frown, about to argue but the cashier spoke up first.
"It's date night. Two for the price of one."
Your cheeks felt hot at the insinuation that you were on a date with Joel, but you couldn't pass up the deal to play for half price. Glancing at him awkwardly, you shrugged and he slapped his card down with a cocky smirk.
"Alright, pick out your ball, but for the love of god don't pick the-"
"Oh, look at the hot pink one!" you exclaimed gleefully, snatching it up from the bucket. He groaned and buried his face in his hands. "What?" you giggled, shouldering him playfully as you admired your ball.
"It's just such a girl thing to do," he said with a grin, then leaned over to pick a neon yellow ball for himself.
"Well last I checked, I am a girl," you winked and headed towards the door, his gaze falling to your ass only once before getting himself together and following you.
"Shoulda known," he tsked once he caught up, "matches your bathing suit and everythin'."
Your stomach flipped and you felt your cheeks grow hot once again but you just laughed him off and approached the first hole. The course was packed with couples, no doubt taking advantage of the deal, so it was slow going. By the fifth hole, Joel grew impatient and plopped down on a bench.
"Giving up so soon?" you teased, and he huffed.
"I ain't a quitter, just waitin' for some of these people to play through. Sick of standin' around."
"You sure it's not because I'm beating you by six?" you grinned as you sat down next to him.
"I'm lettin' you win, darlin'. Tryin' to mend your poor, broken heart," he said, rolling his head to the side with a smirk.
"Eh, I don't think we were together long enough to say he broke my heart, but it still sucks," you sighed, playing with your golf ball in the palm of your hand.
Joel eyed you for a moment, trying to choose his next words carefully. "You ready to talk 'bout it, or-"
"I thought he was nice, y'know? Like, okay, he could be a little pushy sometimes, but I really thought he was just encouraging me to get out of my comfort zone."
Joel frowned and shifted his weight on the bench. "What'dya mean?"
"Like, professionally. He was encouraging me to go back to school so I could get a better job, but I like my job. And other things, too. The ferris wheel," you said, rolling your eyes, "told me I should face my fears and all that."
"You're better off without him," Joel said without even thinking. You laughed and glanced up at him through your lashes.
"You think?"
"'Course. You don't need someone to tell you how to live your life. If you like your job, then why change it? If you're afraid of heights, who cares? Seemed to me like he was tryin' to fix you, and from where I'm sittin', you're-" he cut himself off and looked down at his hands, chewing on the inside of his lip to keep himself from finishing his sentence.
You stared at him for a moment, watching something flicker across his face. "I'm... what?" you asked gently.
He shrugged and took a deep breath. You're perfect, he wanted to say, but instead he went with "you don't need fixin'."
You smiled shyly and poked him in the ribs, making him chuckle.
"Thank you, Joel. You managed to save me from wasting the last day of vacation moping around in bed."
He let you drag him up from the bench so you could continue playing the course, but your conversation kept replaying in his head, distracting him. Even though you weren't a fan of his job, you never once pressured him to find a different one. You accepted him for who he was and it bothered him that Charlie couldn't do the same for you.
Joel watched you with a smile as you bent your head and lined up your putter with your golf ball. A little crease formed between your eyebrows as you focused on the windmill eclipsing the sixth hole, trying to time it just right. How could anybody want to change you? You were so adorable and sweet and you deserved someone who would worship the ground you walked on.
A foolish thought popped into his head and he opened his mouth, about to ask you a question that could possibly change everything.
"What if-"
He cut himself off when you tapped the ball down the turf, both of you watching and holding your breath when your hot pink golf ball managed to avoid the blades of the windmill and dropped into the little plastic cup with a soft clink.
"Holy shit!" you exclaimed, garnering a few odd looks in your direction, but neither of you cared. You dropped your golf club and jumped into his waiting arms, letting Joel spin you around as you both laughed and he told you what a great job you did, deciding it was best he never finished his question, anyway.
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"One-Sided, One Receiver"
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pairing: alastor x fem!reader
synopsis: Alastor has taken you in under his wing after being mistreated by the vees. Vox tries to confronts you about your feelings for Alastor in hopes that you come back to work for him. His plans of course backfire.
warnings: MDNI fuckin tentacle porn, alastor is fully clothed, no pp for you to see sorry, alastor and his dirty mouth, praise kink ig? fingering
word count: 1.7k words
a/n: my first time writing this kinda thing, please spare me. Also thank you to @rubra-wav for the cute divider omg. and my two favorite in character smut authors @hazelfoureyes (my hazel basil) and @jyoongim giving me the courage to do this ✨️🙏
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You've worked with Alastor going on years now. He had taken you under his wing after the treatment you received under the control of the Vees. It was well known they weren't the nicest overlords around but they knew how to sell.
You were Vox's little plaything in more ways than one. He had you pegged to be a pretty good spy and information gatherer. Of course, your mission was always to look for signs of the Radio Demon for his whereabouts. Alastor was very meticulous and every clue left for you was purposely placed, and you knew that. And because you knew that, you never bothered to inform Vox of the very little "information." In which came at a cost of your job and nearly, your life. Vox often underestimated Alastor's smarts. Their own egos constantly bumping each other in the head.
The night you lost your job, you were found outside the Vees' tower, horribly bruised and broken. Hands clutching at the brimstone dirt to try and stable yourself in some way, you saw a pair of black boots standing in front of your face, the demon's cane setting down on the ground.
"Well my dear, it looks like you finally received Vox's boot." He chuckled in amusement and offered a hand to you to help you off the ground. "I'm impressed with how you've gone about finding my little clues, not many have managed to connect them back to me."
With your hand still in his, you two disappear into his shadow and find solitude in a different part of Pentagram City, away from the Vees' territory.
"I have a deal for you. Well rather a job." He states conjuring up a needle and glowing green thread along with a small first-aid kit. He talked his way through his prompt while mending and sewing your wounds. You accepted and that was that.
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The years you've worked along side him he's been quite kind to you. Despite not trying to be, he was a charmer. Your feelings for him changed over time. You often caught yourself doing things you never thought you would for the Radio Demon. The man you were convinced to hate in your previous employment. You'd bend over backward for him if you could.
The role he gave you was to do exactly what you had done for Vox in the past. There was never need to leave his side for you to gather whatever information he needed so you never looked suspicious. You looked more like an assistant or an apprentice.
No matter what you looked like you were doing, Vox was deeply displeased. How dare you escape his grasp and go kiss Alastor's ass. It was insulting from both you and the Radio Demon.
There was more to your companionship that meets the eye. While Alastor was an oblivious man, Vox saw right through you. It was clear to him you had fallen in love with the radio demon. And with the way Alastor has reacted to confessions in the past, the TV man knew exactly how to ruin your relationship with each other and potentially along with the contract that was signed.
Checkmate.
"What are you doing here, old pal. Don't you think you are on the wrong side of town." Alastor's body was facing away, Vox's presence clear from his heavy breathing. His attempt to stay calm and collected.
"I am here to offer Y/N's job back." He stood up straight, folding his arms behind his back and turning his unfazed gaze to you. "I'm willing to raise your pay by a substantial amount if you come back to me."
"Not a chance, Vox. After the way you and the other Vees treated me? Go to double Hell." You spat at him, your eyes full of disgust and turning your body away from him.
Vox's smile creeped further up the screen, wholeheartedly expecting that to be your answer. The wrong answer. The one to ruin you once again.
"You come back to work for me and I won't tell Alastor your dark little secret. You get to stay in his good graces and I get my favorite little employee." He held his hand out to you. Alastor's silence completely deafening as he zones in on the strange conversation. What could you possibly do to fall out of his good graces, he thought.
Your expression faltering slightly before returning to it's stability. Was it that obvious? Did everyone see your feelings like an open book? He was unfortunately right.. if Alastor knew how you felt he'd probably ditch for another 7 years. Either way the outcome of this would be you trapped in the hands of the Vees once more. "You're confused Vox. I think you should take a break from all that porn."
"Do not pretend to not know what I'm talki-"
"I think I've heard enough, Vox. If you are referring to her romantic feelings towards me, there's no need to inform me. I already know." Alastor finally stepped out from behind you to stand in between the two of you. "The only difference here is that she has not forced those feelings upon me in which I quite respect. She will not be going with you."
Alastor tapped his cane on your back to turn you around and continue your walk. You give one last glance at Vox behind you, his face obviously fuming in embarrassment before disappearing into Alastor's shadow with him and reappearing in front of the Hotel.
You two stood in front of the doors in silence. Not really awkward just a little stunned.
"Sir.. you knew?" Your head was looking down to his shoes, scared to look him in the eyes.
"Dear, do not be embarrassed." He placed his cane under your chin, watching your eyes shift from the ground to his own. "I'm willing to make another deal with you if you allow it. This will be a one time thing. One night of your pleasure and you will give me your soul. Your services will belong to me for the rest of your immortal life."
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Not to long after that were you in his radio tower. His shadowy appendages wrapped around your ankles and wrists, your ass resting on the buttons of his desk. You were already in the nude and he still sharply dressed. "Let's get a few things clear, darling. You will not touch me whatsoever, no I will not remove my clothing-" He spoke in the midst of taking his coat off and hanging it up on the hook to the side of the desk. He carefully rolled up the sleeves to his dress shirt before turning his attention to you, continuing his sentence. "and do remember to make noise. I need this to be amusing for me as well."
The appendages snaked up your thighs, softly maneuvering themselves through your folds. Spreading your slick everywhere they could reach. Your shut eyes tightened underneath his delicate touch. Another pair of his tentacles made their way up to your face, pulling at the sides of your mouth, making you open your lips. One slipped inside your wet cavern, lapping up the saliva around your tongue. Moans now starting to slip out as it started to fuck your mouth, spit dripping down the corners of your lips.
"Now that's my good girl." Alastor's cold digits made their way to your clit, rubbing in rhythmic circles, eliciting a well earned gasp from your throat. Not rough enough to jump start an orgasm but enough to be quite pleasurable on it's own. What pretty sounds he thought. Your legs tensed at his praise, his voice. It was deeper and more staticy than normal. Seemed he was enjoying himself more than he'd like to admit.
Removing the tentacle in your mouth, he replaced it with his own mouth. Your heart fluttered at the way he moved his lips against yours. Not exactly how you fantasized your first kiss with the Radio Demon but you'll take it. You groaned into his lips, grinding your hips into his steady going fingers. "Alastor.. please. I need you inside me." Heavy breaths passed between each word that escaped your mouth. This was your part of the deal so he was willing to give you whatever you wanted. Within reason of course.
The extremity wet with your juices slid up and down your cunt, spreading you as much as possible before slipping into you with ease. It wasn't his dick but dear god did it feel good nonetheless. Some boundaries had to be made after all but you were grateful for his generosity no matter what he offered. It's pace started off slow, simply trying to make it's way to your cervix before anything else. His lips still continuing to massage yours, going back and forth between licking your neck and kisses.
He was making every piece of your body vibrate with excitement and pleasure. Alastor's pace speeding up once he finally hit the end of your vagina, nearly making love to your cervix. His fingers began to abuse your now sensitive clit. It didn't take long before that long awaited tightness started to form in your womb. Your breath hitched and various parts of your body twitched, letting him know that you were approaching your end. "Are you going to cum for me, my dear? My precious apprentice."
With one last bite to your shoulder, you came undone on his tentacle and fingers. Continuing to rub you through your high. Your head rested against his shoulder allowing you to control your breaths back to normal. All his dark restraints dissipated, letting you free.
Alastor licked his fingers clean and rolled his sleeves back down, grabbing the coat he hung up and placing it back onto his shoulders. "Now I do believe you need a bath. Feel free to use the one in my room. Be back down stairs in an hour, we've got business to attend to later."
And with that, you now belonged to him in heart and soul.
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lc-holy · 3 months
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Conférence Masterclass 808 (Translation)
I've taken the liberty of translating the conference that took place last year with the writing director of Miraculous (Sébastien Thibaudeau). It was only made public when someone posted a video of the conference a short while ago.
In this conference, Sébastien Thibaudeau will talk about the creation of Miraculous and his work on the series. He is joined by Chloé Paye, a new scriptwriter working on Miraculous season 6.
Sébastien talks a lot and repeats himself a bit, so the summary can be a bit confusing.
I strongly advise you to go and listen to the video if you understand French. There are a lot of details I'm going to leave out, and Sébastien is very funny.
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Photo belongs to mlbfanfr on twitter.
Please be respectful in comments or tags. If you want to debate on things related to this conference, please make your own post. I apologize if there are any mistakes, I'm French and I'm not fluent in English.
-12 years ago, Sébastien arrived at Zagtoon, a studio that was just starting out and had yet to produce and broadcast any series. The producer (Jérémy Zag) and Sébastien hit it off and decided to start working together. Zag decides to give Sébastien total freedom over his projects. Sébastien then decides to put the spotlight on scriptwriters, because in this profession they are unfortunately poorly paid and never stay on the same projects.
So they produced a cartoon called Kobushi. A little-known series that did rather well, even if it didn't stay on the "Gulli" channel for long. The scriptwriters and producer were happy with the end result, as it was produced in a very short time.
Jeremy Zag then proposed another project, which he thought was quite good, but which he was unable to sell to broadcasters. At the time, the project was called "Ladybug". No one was interested, as the project was aimed more at an adult audience than a children's audience. Sébastien had to make sure that the project could be broadcast on Disney and TF1.
There was only a "trailer" also called "Ladybug" (but you'll find the video under the title Ladybug PV) animated by Toei animation. At the time, Sébastien had not yet been hired by Zagtoon. It was Jérémy Zag who convinced Toei animation to work with them (no mean feat, since Toei animation doesn't work with anyone).
So Sébastien started working with Thomas Astruc (the man who wrote and created the "Ladybug" project). At first, he didn't want to work on this project because he found it complicated. Thomas wanted to make a series for adults, but at the time, it was very complicated to make a cartoon for adults. What's more, they didn't have enough money to take on such a project. Sébastien finally agreed, but there were some changes to be made, which Thomas accepted.
-What Sébastien appreciated most in this project was the romantic comedy, the love square between the two main characters.
To meet the requirements of the cartoon industry, "Ladybug" had to be set in a neutral universe, in other words, in an imaginary country or the USA, but Zag, who loves Paris, declared that the cartoon had to be set in Paris.
In the end, Thomas Astruc's entire project was discarded, leaving only the love story between the two heroes and the city of Paris, where the story was to take place.
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-Sébastien explains how he writes Marinette's first dialogues: He says he talks a lot in real life, so he writes Marinette like him. She says out loud whatever she's thinking.
For Chat noir, he makes him tell his father's jokes. Something TF1 doesn't accept. The TV channel went so far as to refuse to validate the Bible (a collection of information on the series and episodes) until it had removed the sentence: “Chat noir makes jokes”. Sebastien has therefore removed the sentence, but will continue to make Chat noir tell jokes.
-The writing director's job is to get the producer, creator and broadcaster to agree. The series broadcast on TF1 and Disney are very different. TF1 wants series whose story can be told in a single episode, unlike Disney, which wants series whose story spans several episodes.
Sébastien and TF1 agree that Miraculous will be a series with one story per episode, a "Formula Show".
He cites the example of Dora the Explorer episodes, where every episode is the same: Dora goes on an adventure from point A to point B, she has to find 3 clues, then she meets Swiper, she sings a song to make Swiper go away, she uses the talking map to get from one place to another, then Dora manages to get to point B and the episode ends.
This episode format is used for children, to give them a reassuring framework, as they build themselves up through repetition. That's why series like Dora work so well with young children.
So Sebastien sold the Miraculous series to broadcasters as a formula show. A person gets angry, is akumatized, then marinette transforms into Ladybug then frees the person from the akumatization and… The End.
It's also for this reason that Marinette tries to confess her love for Adrien in every episode, but is unable to do so.
But he tried to go against what he had planned with TF1, by slipping little extra stories into certain episodes. Audiences were receptive to these slightly hidden stories. The TV channel even asked Sébastien if there really were hidden things in the series, but he denied everything. Thanks to the positive reception from the public, TF1 agreed to develop the characters of Marinette and Adrien and flesh out the universe a little more.
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-Once the bible is written, they have to write a script. But first Sébastien, as writing director, needs to know the mood of the series, and to do this he calls on Thomas Astruc, the series creator. Thomas is a great fan of classical painting. A single painting can tell a complex scene with lots of detail. He wants the episodes of miraculous to be like these paintings, there will be very few shots, but in a single shot a lot will happen.
-Sébastien explains that one of the things Thomas wanted to convey in the series was emotion. They didn't want to do what a lot of children's cartoons do, which is to beat the bad guys and win at the end of the episode. They wanted to tell kids that it's normal to have negative emotions. We can also become better people, learn from our mistakes and so on. It also reassures TV channels by setting up scenes that are repeated in every episode: people get angry, people akumatize then people deakumatize, end of episode...
Once the TV channels had been reassured, they set about writing a script.
-Sébastien asks Thomas to write the ending, as they're not sure the series will work. They also wondered what the aim of the series was, and what they wanted to say to the children. The two of them sat down in an office and wrote the ending, which turned out to be just the end of an arc. He even adds that now that they've written a lot more, it's important for them to write in advance so that everything is clear to them.
-The first season was written by 19 authors, from home. He found it interesting that the series was written by several different authors, even if some of them didn't quite understand the premise of the series. One episode that Sébastien particularly appreciated was written by two “autrices” (I think it's weird to say “two female authors”, so I'll use the French word): the refletkta episode, with the story of Juleka who couldn't get into the photos. (Note that all the episodes were proofread by Sébastien and Thomas).
After that, they kept a few people on to work together on the scripts for subsequent seasons.
Sébastien explains that he keeps a close eye on the production of the episodes, to make sure that everything that goes into the picture is as faithful as possible to what they've written in the script.
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-The kwamis exist thanks to Toei, who wanted funny little animals to sell plush toys. So the scriptwriters had to find a way to integrate kwamis into the story.
-(Again, Sébastien advises people to check out the Kobushi series if they can still watch it somewhere, or ask the leaker who leaked the whole of season 5 to give them the episodes (that's a joke, of course)).
-Sébastien talks about the Ikari gozen episode, which could have been a total failure because the storyboarder didn't fully understand the scenario. Sébastien asks Zag to redo the storyboard, which will add 10 weeks to the episode's deadline. The storyboarder admits that he's always done storyboards mechanically, without worrying whether the episode is good or not, whether the jokes are funny or not. Eventually, the episode was redone by the same storyboarder, resulting in the episode we all know today.
- They still have a lot to tell with Miraculous, to the point where they're wondering if they'll have enough seasons to tell everything they want to tell. Sebastien says there will be a season 6 and 7, and probably a season 8 and 9.
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- Chloé Paye met Sébastien when she was looking for an internship. She had never worked in animation, and knew nothing about Miraculous. She tells us how the scriptwriting team works. Each time, all the scriptwriters in the room have to be convinced of the script. They can sometimes spend hours on details to get everyone to agree.
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- The driving force behind the series is that there must always be a secret between Marinette and Adrien. The lovesquare can never be broken, otherwise there's no series. Sébastien knows that some people are worried about this. Will they continue the lovesquare for another 4 seasons or more? How will they evolve? Sébastien says not to worry, they know where they want to go.
-It takes them 14 to 16 months to produce an episode, but it's often much longer due to unforeseen circumstances. And they don't work on one episode at a time, but on several at the same time. One episode takes a long time because of the 3D animation.
One of the things that's complicated with Miraculous 3d animation is that they can only display 3 characters at a time on screen, whereas the series requires them to display many more characters. It's also very difficult to correct animation errors, as this takes a lot of time.
-The TV networks were very surprised by the success of miraculous. They didn't think adults and children alike would watch the series. The TV channels were a little confused because they usually make series for a specific age group, but since miraculous had people of all ages watching, they weren't sure what to do.
- Sébastien says he's very happy that miraculous inspires a lot of people to create things, like writing fanfiction, however he's not interested in it because he doesn't want to be influenced by certain fans who would love to see certain things in the series.
- Writing direction also means paying attention to how the characters speak. They all have their own way of speaking. For example, Adrien will never say "j’te parle", but rather "Je te parle".
- During the writing process, the writers sometimes act out scenes to make the dialogue more natural. This is what happened with the episode "Gang of secrets". They felt that, with the success of the show and the pressure it was generating, they needed to write something to relieve their stress. So they wrote about Marinette and the enormous pressure she was under to keep all her secrets. The final scene, in which Marinette tells Alya that she's Ladybug, came naturally when they performed it together.
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despazito · 2 months
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could u elaborate on "parrots make bad pets"? not disagreeing (far from it) just interested to see your take! looking to learn more about this
(i've gotten this ask before so please don't mind i'm just gonna paste a writeup i did a while ago)
There’s a blog run by an animal behaviourist who specializes in parrots that i really enjoy reading, she has a very good writeup on the state of companion parrots as an industry: The Inconvenient Truth About Cockatoos
so basically the average person usually cannot meet the needs of a parrot, especially medium and ESPECIALLY large species. they are long lived, extremely social and intelligent animals who are very demanding if you are their only companion. in my mind the most 'ethical' pet parrot setup is having some pairs of budgies in a dedicated bird room filled with foraging enrichment and doing some basic command training as a bird-human bonding activity instead of cuddles.
most pet parrots are hand reared or even hatched in incubators by breeders and are never given a chance to be raised by their parents, and virtually none stay with their parents until a natural weaning age before getting sold. which is wild considering it is fucking ILLEGAL to do that to puppies or kittens.
A parrot isn't really born wired for human companionship in the same way that a dog or cat is. they imprint on their parents which sets the blueprint of their kin, and they generally want to only form extremely close bonds with others of their kin. To get a very people-oriented parrot, it has to think it’s people.
This is different from the socializing practiced in raising cats and dogs or acclimating ferals to people. socializing means exposure to things so that the animal doesn't grow up to see the target as a threat, and ultimately that the target is something that can be very rewarding to spend time around. A dog raised with its mother and socialized to people still understands that it's a dog, it can get along with other dogs, but can also form strong bonds to people. They actually read both dog and human body language and legitimately have an awareness that we are different species.
The companion parrot is raised to think it’s people, and as a result many lose the ability to form bonds with their own kind. in fact the reason many breeders remove eggs or chicks from the nest is arguing that the parent birds don’t really know how to raise their chicks- because they themselves were hand reared and never learned how to parent from their parents! it seems that, like us, parenting isn't perfectly hardwired in parrots and they need to learn the skill from their families, oftentimes even staying to help their parents raise younger siblings!
That's why it's not at all uncommon for pair bonded breeding birds to be sold as a completely separate product from companion birds in many aviary operations. there's so many ads for people selling breeding parrots that fucking hate humans or are semi tame specifically listed for sale as breeders not as pets:
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then their babies are bred for the pet market so they are taken either before or right after hatching to get hand reared and imprinted onto humans, because a parrot-bonded parrot just won't be as interested in forming those close human companionships you see in viral videos. this isn't the case for all aviaries, i want to acknowledge there are smaller scale breeders who have tamer breeding birds, but big producers can have borderline feral pairs and the point i'm trying to make is when you socialize a parrot to either the human world or parrot world, it's often at the expense of the other.
most trouble starts once the parrot begins reaching the age of sexual maturity. they stop being openly cuddly to most people, and will try to pair bond with their primary caretaker. It's not uncommon for this to lead to aggression towards other family members because parrots don't share partners, they can even do this to babies they are jealous of!
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But a human can't become a suitable mate substitute for a parrot, and some of their mating behaviours such as regurgitating on you can seem straight up gross so the human then shuns the parrot and shuts down their advances. this can make your bird become very sexually frustrated that can lead to more unwanted behaviours and even health emergencies such as prolapse. we lead them on by stroking their chest and backs (only something bonded pairs do, you are essentially jerking off your parrot when you do this..) then reject them with no other outlet for their natural urges, and spaying/neutering isn't an option either! so they're stuck in a psychological purgatory of being unable to fulfill their instincts. and if they're in an understimulating environment and left alone for most of the day in addition to all that, frankly i think that's just an awful life to give to an animal we allegedly love!
we essentially alienate them, and when they don’t have people around to meet their extremely high social needs because you work a 9-5, even if there are other birds around, the lonely or frustrated human-bonded parrot can become depressed and self mutilate.
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parrots that were left with their parents, are raised as parrots, and weaned at their own natural pace overwhelmingly do not exhibit these destructive behaviours.
 a productive relationship with a pet parrot is one that fosters independence, not dependence, on the human companion. the most responsible parrot owners should strive to act more as a zookeeper to their parrot instead of cuddling it and creating a ‘velcro’ bird glued to the hip, and socialize with them via training sessions instead of letting their birds indulge in pair bonding behaviours like petting and preening which leads to sexual frustration and aggression or self mutilation.
Ultimately I believe any parrot hand reared and imprinted onto humans is some degree of psychologically damaged and suffers from the parrot equivalent of a developmental trauma, they have been robbed of a normal parrot life and it cannot be undone.
SO many parrot rescues are completely flooded with unwanted pets, many with tough behavioural challenges (for example it's not uncommon for parrots to be reactive to an entire gender, so that cuts the adopter pool immediately in half). and these patterns can be difficult to break especially without the aid of a behaviourist. and the thing still has another 40 years of life left in it but nobody wants to adopt because it's another "crazy bitey bird that hates everyone", has reached sexual maturity so it's no longer as friendly, and it's much easier to start from scratch so folks choose to just buy another baby and keep the cycle going.
And none of that even touches on the rampant poaching that keeps supplying the trade in many parts of the world. and that's why everyone should have domestic chickens or pigeons.
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genericpuff · 5 months
Text
All That Glitters is Not Feminism - An Analysis of LO's Brand of "Feminism" and What Remains of its Fanbase (The Twist)
Alright y'all, I've been waiting a hot minute to talk about this because I wanted to see how it fully panned out before saying anything about it. And it's not even specifically about LO, but I do think it's very adjacent to it in a way that I'm sure you'll be shocked to hear. Much of it speaks to how we prop up white writers even at the expense of POC.
This is 'the twist' attached to my first post that I made just a couple hours ago that concerns an entirely other topic but I feel ties into this subject very well.
If you haven't heard, there's this author who recently fucked around in the Del Rey publishing scene.
Her name is Cait Corrain.
In the original tweet calling this person out, names were not dropped, but it was made very clear that what Cait did was unacceptable behavior.
You can read the entire thread that started it all from Xiran here:
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There's also a GREAT recap thread from one of the affected authors, Bethany Baptiste:
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I want to make it clear that Cait Corrain isn't just a debut author.
Cait Corrain is - or now, was (foreshadowing is a literary device that-) - a debut author who had an agent, a publishing deal with Del Rey (an imprint of Random House which is a MAJOR publisher) and even an upcoming Illumicrate deal - meaning, her book was going to be packaged in a monthly loot crate subscription shipped directly to people's doors, quite possibly one of the best marketing deals a debut author could ever get, usually unheard of in this industry. All the pre-reviews were strong and positive.
Cait's book was literally set up for success. All she had to do was sit back, relax, and watch the fruits of her labors roll in. She had written the book. It was ready for release. The hard part was technically over.
But I guess the racism brainrot got to her because as it turns out, since April - for EIGHT MONTHS - she's been making alternate accounts on GoodReads to review bomb the indie and debut works of her friends and peers, most of whom were POC and did not have the same opportunities set up for them as she did. There are loads of receipts to back this up that you can find in those above threads ^^^
To say that this is appalling is an understatement. This was an intentional and deliberate act of racism by a white queer writer who claimed to be "jealous" - of what, I can't imagine - so much so that she deliberately sabotaged her peers, people who had supported her and her book.
And then when she got caught? She doubled down on it and claimed it was a "friend", also an alternate account she made up.
The exchange between her and this made-up person is actually the funniest shit out of this entire thing, it's so poorly written and as soon as people noticed the time stamps were out of order, that was when it truly cemented her newfound clown status.
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"oooooh he's standing right behind me, isn't he?" energy right here LMAO
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yes keep expositing cait, that's really selling the "this is a genuine conversation that really happened with a real person" bit 🤡
Anyways, it became abundantly clear that Cait was just going to continue to dig her heels in over something she caused.
This has been a hot topic in the UnpopularLO Discord, not just because of how crazy of a situation it is that we had to talk about it - and we have people within the community who work in the literature and media sector - but because we noticed one very telling thing in the list of series that she had review bombed in her very own personal act of wrath.
You see, Cait made one fundamental mistake that led to her undoing - she didn't just review bomb the works of her peers, she positively reviewed her own book and others.
What's her book about though?
It's an Ariadne x Dionysus retelling set in space.
It's literally another "modern retelling" of Greek myth.
And wouldn't you know it, guess who else created a modern retelling of Greek myth that she included in her positive review raiding while she was sabotaging the work of her actual peers?
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Now, I think it goes without saying that what I'm about to say should be taken with MOUNTAINS of salt, I'm sure a lot of you are reading the headline and going, "Ugh, really? You're gonna make this about LO? Could you give it a rest already???"
I need you to understand, with the current state of Rachel's fanbase and 'modern' Greek myth literature as a whole, at this point Lore Olympus - and the works that are literally inspired by it such as A Touch of Darkness - has basically become the shopping cart litmus test of basic decency. It's like when someone says they like Harry Potter - you can't take it automatically at good faith anymore, because there isn't a whole lot separating someone who simply liked Harry Potter as a kid and still rewatches the movies from time to time from someone who fully supports the politics and agenda of J.K. Rowling. No, not everyone who still watches the movies or reads the books fondly is a TERF by default, but it's justifiably a reason for suspicion when the consequences are often too dire to risk.
There's this thing that's been happening in the LO fanbase that I frankly saw coming, but has really recently started to hit its peak. It's what I call the "Kanye Effect", where the comic has become so absurd and backwards in its misogyny and white feminism that the only people who seem to be left supporting LO are the people who are legitimate white feminists and misogynists - because all the normal level-headed people fell off the comic ages ago (or transitioned into the critical side of the community).
I mentioned it in my last post, but it bears repeating - Rachel's fanbase has literally been shipping Hera, a victim of abuse, with her abuser, Kronos. I'm really hoping a lot of them realize how fucked up that is now that Hera herself has called it what it is - abuse - within the comic, but I also can't count on the LO fanbase picking up on that or even noticing it with how quickly people swipe through it each week, it's very apparent at this point that most of LO's readers don't know how to chew their food and don't pay attention when Persephone and Hades aren't onscreen.
But I'm digressing. Or am I? We're talking about Crown of Starlight after all. The debut Dionysus x Ariadne sci-fi/fantasy romance that was quite literally advertised using Lore Olympus as its baseline-
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This. This is what the ongoing cultural erasure and white feminist uwu-fication of Greek myth is doing to the literary zeitgeist surrounding Greek myth as a whole. This is why we criticize Lore Olympus and works like it that are created by disingenuous people who only seek to use the assets of Greek myth material as a way to shoot themselves up into fame and stardom. This is why we demand better standards in the literature and webcomic industry, so that people like Rachel and Cait can't use their privileges to quite literally erase the source material that they used to make themselves famous in the first place.
If anything, Cait's actions didn't just affect the people she negatively review bombed, or the people she was affiliated with, but also the people she positively reviewed. While I don't support what Rachel creates, she wasn't the only one who Cait went out of her way to review positively from her alt accounts, there were many others as evident in the Google Doc - but all this really does is tarnish the legitimacy of these books and their ratings by artificially jacking up their numbers that are advertised to others.
Making Greek myth fanfiction or fun creative retellings was never the problem, but it's now being sabotaged alongside so many other genres and mediums by toxic white individuals who can't even keep themselves from committing hate crimes, let alone create something purely for entertainment that's transparent in its illegitimacy, lest it destroy the illusion that these people are qualified to speak over those whose voices are being stifled, often by these very same people. Many of these writers get caught and are still allowed to continue what they're doing - that was certainly what we feared with Cait.
Until today.
It was revealed today that Cait's book will no longer be featured in the Illumicrate May 2024 box.
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Del Rey has dropped Crown of Starlight from their publishing schedule.
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Daphne Press will be hopefully following suit.
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And, most telling of all, Cait's own agent has severed ties with her.
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For anyone not familiar with the inner workings of the publishing industry, Cait has essentially been blacklisted. Without an agent or a publishing house, she'll have to entirely rely on her own resources through self-publishing. Unless she manages to sneak her way back in under an alias (which I wouldn't put it past her to try) she no longer has access to the mainstream publishing industry that was already guaranteed for her before she let her 'jealousy' get the better of her.
Her career was already made for her. She had a red carpet laid out for her debut. Her book was getting good pre-reviews and she had quite literally nothing keeping her from her success. The best thing she could have done was nothing. Somewhere in her head, she made up a threat that didn't exist, and sealed her fate in acting on it, a self-fulfilling prophecy.
I think in these situations such as with Cait Corrain, Rachel Smythe, and - also recently and relevant - James Somerton, we need to become increasingly aware of how white voices are still overpowering POC voices, not just in their actions, but in the opportunities they're given over others which they then use to further stifle the voices of those they feel "threatened" by or feel entitled to speak over. While neither James nor Rachel have used sock puppet accounts to "take out the competition" (at least as far as we know lmao) James did quite literally steal the words and voices of queer writers who were deserving of their time in the spotlight, and Rachel's work is being quoted as "rewriting Greek myth" as if its blatant gentrification and appropriation should be marketed as some sort of positive.
It's all too common for these deeply-rooted prejudices to rear their ugly heads and for the people who carry them to act out in this way while justifying it as "jealousy" or "a mistake". This isn't jealousy. This isn't a mistake. This isn't someone "starting drama". This is genuine, targeted hate, with the intention of snuffing out the voices of others who should be empowered, not silenced.
All that time and effort, and for what? Racism and petty jealousy? It just goes to show, it doesn't matter how many opportunities you're given, how high up on the ladder you already are - it won't fix the deeply-rooted insecurity and racial pettiness that spurs people on to do such horrible things.
I've spent enough of my time and words today talking about Cait, and James, and Rachel. So to end this off, I want to join in with all the others who have highlighted the books that were review-bombed by Cait, and help in uplifting them so they can have successful debuts. I'll be pre-ordering a few of them, so I'll be happy to make dedicated posts for them in the future after they release. Please consider purchasing them for yourself if you want some new reading material <3
The Poisons We Drink by Bethany Baptiste:
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So Let Them Burn by Kamilah Cole:
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To Gaze Upon Wicked Gods by Molly X Chang:
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Mistress of Lies by K.M. Enright
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Voyage of the Damned by Frances White:
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(I'm sure there are plenty others so if I missed any here, please let me know so I can add them here and check out their books!)
If there's any silver lining to this, I hope that it makes people aware of the media they consume and who it's being created by. I hope it makes people more willing to seek out the books that aren't getting the same opportunities as Cait Corrain and Rachel Smythe. I hope it's a wake-up call to the industry that matters like this need to be taken seriously and that POC writers are still being silenced under their own noses. And most of all, I hope it's a reminder that we shouldn't even need at this point that this behavior is not okay, no matter what level a person climbs to - that just because someone is part of one minority doesn't mean they're not capable of sabotaging another. It sucks that that has to be said, it sucks that despite these groups being so intersectional there are still people within them who submit to their deeply-rooted insecurities and find ways to feel threatened that they use to justify hateful behavior.
Having a platform is a privilege. It should never be weaponized against your own peers or those who you simply feel "threatened" by for no reason beyond your own imposter syndrome or doubts or internal struggles. Because as much as you may feel like you've earned where you are, that never gives you the right to weaponize your opportunities against others who were never given those same opportunities in the first place. "Feminism" is not using your power to crush "other women". "Progressiveness" is not exclusive to the progress that only benefits you.
I wish only the best to those who were affected by the actions of Cait Corrain. You deserve to be heard and seen and appreciated for the work you do and the abuse you've had to tolerate. I look forward to your debuts in 2024 <3
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eustasskidagenda · 7 months
Note
Hi! I love your writing! Can I ask some headcanons with Kid, Sanji, Zoro, Law et Luffy going to the beach with their S/O, please?? Tysm!
Hello sweet anon! Thank you for requesting, it was fun to write. Hope it will match your expectations ☆
☆ Kid, Sanji, Zoro, Luffy & Law going to the beach with their s/o
CW : g/n reader, funny, fluff, Kid is cursing but I guess no one is surprised, Kid is a savage, really vague mention of sex for Sanji, slight cursing for Zoro + mention of alcohol,
WC : 2,3k
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Kid
Heavy stomps, mumbling curses, regular sighs and grunts full of irritation. Yep. It was your idea to go to the beach. Kid would never go to the beach by himself because he hates all the screaming children and the sand between his toes. And, the sun could ruin his make-up. So he would act all grumpy, wondering what he has done to end up in such a situation. 
"Goddamn, y/n, come back, you didn't put your sunscreen" Of course Kid thinks about his skin all the damn time, he's such a beauty-influencer when it comes to make-up and skin care. If you neglect to apply sunscreen to your body, he will bark at you, grab you by the wrist, and do all the work himself. And then, you'll have to help him, especially when it comes to applying sunscreen to his back. He won't let you know he loves when you run your hands down his back and along his always tensed shoulders. 
"I've seen this place before you, fuck off!" While planting violently your parasol on the ground, barking to the poor innocent guy who tried to set his stuff at the place Kid noticed in first. "It's my beach."
He's so possessive with everything, help.
Actually, Kid likes one thing about the beach: he can brag about his big man boobies. No shirt, just his glorious bare, toned chest. Every time someone looks at him with jealousy or admiration, he feels so proud; his ego is never satisfied with this. He's perfectly aware of how shaped his torso is, and he's really proud of it. 
Every time someone looks at your body, he feels really pleased with himself. Even if they try, they won't be able to have you. But on the flip side, he's also upset when he realizes that everyone can see your beautiful shapes. His arm would be wrapped around your waist. All. The. Time. 
Kid being Kid, he would smash all the sandcastle made by the children. Prepare yourself to get in trouble with all the mad parents around there, while their children are crying because "the big scary man told me I'm a piece of shit who don't even know how to build a sandcastle" You better watch Kid tightly before he stuffs their mouths with some sand to make them shut up.
"Come on Kid, it's just a child." 
If you try beach sports, he will make everything a competition. Avoid playing volley beach with him, because if you team up and lose, he will smash the ball into the winner's face. "Now who's the loser?" 
If someone tries to sell him an ice cream, he would scowls madly. Does he look like someone licking some fucking ice balls full of sugar? Ugh. It's so ridiculous. 
He doesn't wear armbands because he thinks he's too good for them. "I don't care if I can't swim, I won't use those damn armbands." 
Honestly, Kid hates how weak he is in the water, so he would stay away from trouble. The ocean makes his voice weak, even his strength is leaving him. And, even if his eyeliner is waterproof, he doesn't want to risk ruining his make up. "I fucking hate water" 
Would end up using his DF to find some metal around and build something with it while you're swimming. It looks like he doesn't care, but secretly, he watches to make sure you're safe. And if you're drowning, then, he'll run to save you so yes, congrats, now you're drowning together. 
Luckily, Killer is not too far.
Killer deserves a break.
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Sanji 
Oh, damn... going on a beach date with Sanji is not a good idea. All the women in swimsuits would overwhelm him. Sanji, as he is, wouldn't be able to handle all the women around him, even though you are the prettiest of all the people around.
But the moment you take off your clothes and replace them with your swimsuit, his eyes would be on you all the time because you're the most mesmerizing person in the whole universe. 
He's so proud to introduce you as his s/o to absolutely everyone, yes, even that one person sleeping peacefully under their parasol. "Have you seen how beautiful y/n is?" 
Of course, he would help you apply sunscreen to your skin. Enjoy the massage because his hands are so heavenly smooth and divine. He would clearly take advantage of the situation to place some soft kisses along your collarbone, shoulders, neck, jugular, and down your spines. 
It's clear that Sanji brought his own food to the beach. You can enjoy fresh drinks, ice cream, waffles, cakes, fresh salads, and juicy fruits just for you. He wouldn't let you buy some ice cream from the trader because it's probably disgusting, full of sugar and chemicals. Your body is a temple and cannot be contaminated by non-premium quality food. 
He's probably causing the parents to be angry because he's smoking. But Sanji is nice, so if it was asked politely, he wouldn't mind stubouting his cigarette. 
While you're tanning under the parasol, Sanji is probably laying next to you, with a book explaining all the fish he could buy in the town. 
If you decide to go swimming, of course, he's going with you. As the kind person he's, he wants to make sure you're safe, and if you uncomfortable with your body, he wouldn't mind using his own body as a shield, so no one but he can look at you. 
He's a pure romantic, so prepare yourself for some lovely hugs in the water, with him holding you tight and his hands roaming all over your wet skin. Sweet kisses on your neck. He's not against taking things further, but he's romantic and all the screaming children are ruining the mood. But during the night... yes, he's definitely not against swimming at midnight. 
And if he finds some ugly, green, gummy seaweeds, then, he'll take them back to the Sunny. "Marimo, don't let your children alone at the beach."
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Zoro
"Oi, y/n, where are you?"
Well, have you already seen Finding Nemo? Remember about Marlin always asking "HAVE YOU SEEN MY SON?" Now, you're Marlin and Zoro is your Nemo. 
Do not leave him alone for more than two seconds. Do not leave him buying ice cream for the two of you. Otherwise, the date is ruined. The only thing you will do is ask everyone 'Have you seen a big man with big boobs and green hair?' 
Maybe he'll find the one piece before the end of the day.
"I wasn't lost, your indications weren't clear." 
Zoro's obliviousness means you need to pay close attention to him. Stay close to him and everything will be okay. He's in good shape, so people are probably looking at him with admiration, jealousy, or whatever thoughts come to mind. But he doesn't give a damn, and is probably thinking people are looking at you because you're mesmerizing in your swimsuit. 
He doesn't care about the people wearing swimsuits around him. It's not an event for him. "I won't nose bleed like this shitty twirled-brow." 
He thinks the beach is a good opportunity to train himself. While you're relaxing under the parasol, he's training in the sun. Burpees, push-ups, and even some yoga are used to work his breathing and stability. 
Once he's done, he's all sweaty and wants to swim a bit. If you don't follow him, he'll be swimming until he finds a new island. 
If you're too lazy to swim, he'd be okay with carrying you. If a jellyfish tries to bite your thigh, then, the poor creature is doomed and would end up as a dinner for the crew when you'll get back to the Sunny.
He prefers alcohol over ice cream, of course. It's the best thing to enjoy after swimming and training. While he's drinking, he likes when you rest your head against his chest. On the other hand, he's a bit flustered because Zoro cares about his privacy. But you're too cute, he can't push you away. 
Arms wrapped around your waist while you sleep together. Perfect date for Zoro: training and restlessness. No one would dare trying to steal your stuff because Zoro is used to standing guard on the Sunny, so he would react really quickly. 
At the end of the day, he got the biggest sunburn ever because he forgot to apply sunscreen. Poor Zoro.
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Luffy
It's like going to the beach with your overly excited dog. 
He's yelling excitedly, jumping everywhere, laughing loudly, and oh, good luck, he's already running away. You tried to catch his wrist, but it just stretches his arm beyond its limits. Good luck in finding him. 
Well, honestly, if you want to find Luffy, just try to figure out where the food is. He's probably eating some waffles and ice cream, or more precisely, emptying all the stands of their food. 
"Oh Y/N, you're here?" He speaks with his mouth full, obviously. 
Luffy is selfish with food, but he would let you have the last waffle because he loves to see you smile. 
As Zoro, he doesn't give a damn about people in swimsuits. 
If a child has a better rubber ring than him, he's sad. "Y/N, we need to buy a better one! What about this one?" While displaying an extravagant beetle rubber.
He's so happy, with it. Prepare yourself to pull him out the water because while he's watching to find some fish or play with some seaweeds, he would end up falling overboard like the overexcited child he's. 
But drowning wouldn't destroy his joy. Be ready for the sandcastle episode after the rubber ring one. He wants to build the best one. But have you seen his nonexistent artistic skills? His creations wouldn't look great, that's all we can tell. Please, help him building a pretty sandcastle, he's so sad. Poor baby.
"Don't get a sunburn, y/n." While lending you his straw hat. 
"Y/N, have you seen those crabs? Y/N, have you seen how funny this seaweed is? Y/N, have you seen this stone? Oh, Y/N, this cloud looks like Zoro, don't you think?" 
He wants to catch all the crabs and winkles he can find. And would probably end up organizing a crab fight. If his favorite one loses, then the poor baby will be sad again. He's so fluffy when he pouts.
He is eager to try and do everything with you. So you better follow him, because going to the beach with Luffy means you'll never be able to rest peacefully under the parasol. He's too energized to sleep peacefully. 
And if you're sleeping, he would bury you under the sand, so when you wake up, your body is totally covered up, the only thing you can do is moving your toes and head while Luffy laughs loudly and proudly. His laugh is so endearing, you can't be angry with him.
"Gum-Gum… ice-cream stolen" 
Prepare to run away from the guy who is mad at him.
Overall? Not relaxing at all, but funny as hell.
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Law
If Luffy is like an overexcited dog, Law is like a cat forced to bathe. Have you already tried bathing a cat? Do you end up with scratches? It's nothing compared to Law.
"Bepo, don't sharpen your claws on the deck!" "What? But it's not me. It's Law, Y/N decided to bring him to the beach. They had to drag him to the ground. 
Yes, Law probably hates the beach. It's a noisy place with noisy people, the food smells bad, the children are annoying, and the sand is irritating. And please, the sea is like the toilet for the fish and all those disgusting people. He's so pissed off to be here. 
"Why me, Y/N-ya?"
"Aren't you happy? The sun is beautiful today! You need to take some breaks from your work." 
His sole response would be an annoyed scowl. 
Ain't no way for him to wear a swimsuit. He's conserving all his clothing, even the hat. And he's standing under the parasol with his arms crossed. All the people around are probably avoiding him, and that's for the best because a 'room, shambles' could happen really fast if they dare to make a comment about his non-appropriate clothes. 
Law would remind you to apply sunscreen on a regular basis.  And he wouldn't mind applying it himself. He loves the feeling of your skin against his palms, it feels like heaven. 
He would remind you to drink water frequently. And to wet your neck before swimming. Certainly, he's watching closely the entire time. He may be mad, but he cares about you. Prepare yourself to have a shadow following you everywhere. If you're too far from him, he'll use his DF to bring you back to him.
"Please, help me, my child needs a doctor!" He's annoyed as hell. Even at the beach, work is still pursuing him. Of course, if someone asked for a doctor, he would help. He's frustrated because he can't take care of someone and keep an eye on you at the same time.
If you give him onigiri, he will look like a child: pouting while eating silently. 
"Y/n-ya, don't touch this, it's a toxic seaweed.", "y/n-ya, come here, you have to stay hydrated."
He would lend you his own hat if you forgot yours, while he's standing under the parasol. "Do not lose my hat." 
No swimming for him. He'll stay away from the cursed water. Just like Kid, ain't no way for him to wear armbands. And if you Try to throw some water on his face, he would look like a wet cat: shocked and angry. Beware, he yowls.
Overall? You had fun. And even if Law acts annoyed all the time, secretly, he would love to have a break day with you.  On his desk, he would keep the beautiful shell you found on the beach and give it to him.
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binsito · 8 months
Text
warning: unprotected sex, mentions of m receiving oral sex, usage of the word "kitten" in a sexual connotation, very brief and minor degradation (reader referred to as stupid), nerd!seungmin in a college setting, semi public sex (sex in an empty classroom), i think that's all :]
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nerdy college student kim seungmin who has never had a date nonetheless a girlfriend before in his life. too focused on his studies to even have a social life outside of his small squad of geeky friends.
he was used to being somewhat of an outcast, was used to the popular kids asking him for answers, especially the pretty girls with skirts that were way too short. at least sometimes he made some money off of selling his test answers or tutoring.
"don't you guys think he's kinda cute?.. he looks like he's packing.." you gossiped with your friends about him, they laughed and waved you off
"i'm serious you guys! i've seen his imprint before!" you defended but they were not entertaining you.
you were going to prove them wrong, if they weren't going to jump at the opportunity to fuck the cute nerd, then you were.
the next time you saw him, you asked him for help on a test, letting him know you could stay back after class ended so you two could work on it. you knew he charged for exams but you purposely didn't bring any cash.
class wrapped up and the two of you stayed back, there wouldn't be another class in here for the rest of the day so you were in the clear.
and as always, he did fantastic on the test, getting some questions wrong so it didn't seem so suspicious. you thanked him and he patiently waited for you to hand him his payment.
"oh no.." you feigned
"shit, seungmin.. i forgot the cash on my counter.. i'm sorry.." you pouted
"is there any other way i can pay you? i feel soo bad.. i don't wanna stiff you.."
seungmin had a feeling he knew what you were implying, he didn't want you to feel like you had to do that, he was gonna let it slide and just ask you to bring it next time but he also had a feeling you didn't really want to do that.
he also couldn't really help the blood rushing to his cock. he always thought you were the prettiest of the bunch, his heart always hammering in his chest whenever you would acknowledge him by name, even if it was just to get help on a worksheet.
you got underneath his desk on your knees, looking up at him with a pretty little smile. he knew this was definitely better than the fifty bucks he was going to charge you.
and you were so right about him.
his cock was nice and thick, tip red and drooly, a vein on his underside that was so sensitive.
and once he got over his initial shyness, he melted under your touch, enjoying the way your mouth took him, how you gagged on him and made a spitty mess of his cock. he had never been touched like this before, his hand could only do so much and even then he didn't get to touch himself often. pent up school stress surfacing and building up in the form of an orgasm deep within him.
and seungmin was demanding.
because how dare a stupid little kitten forget to pay him for all his hard work?
pulling you off by your hair and instructing you to get on the professor's desk because he wanted to fuck you there, that he wanted to teach you a lesson you'd never forget.
you knew the nerdy ones where always the most fun to mess with.
never in his wildest dreams did kim seungmin think he would be bending you over in an empty classroom and stuffing you full of his delicious cock. his hips slamming against yours as he dug his fingers deep into your side, you were a babbling mess on his cock, whining whenever he pulled out just a little too much.
"next time, don't forget okay? or i won't be as nice.." he growls
(he was hoping there would be a next time, that you would pull this stunt again.)
(you were definitely planning on it.)
"oh s-seungmin.. i don't want you to be nice.." you moaned, cheek pressed into the cold wood of the table but you were too busy enjoying the ridges of his cock inside of you to care about how uncomfortable it was.
he spanked you, wanting to see his handprint on your asscheek, his balls tightening at the sight.
"shit." he grunted
"i'm afraid you might fail this class if you don't let me tutor you.." he chuckled as he felt you clench around him, cunt so warm and velvety that he had to concentrate hard not to cum.
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please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito
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sykostyles · 15 days
Text
melodies | 1.1
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summary: he's the most powerful & ruthless mafia boss in the city, and she's just a music store owner. but once he hears her singing voice, he wants nothing more than to hear it for the rest of his life..and she's not so sure about that.. he'll do anything to change that. wc: 4.5k
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warnings: fluff, suggestive?, cursing I think
a/n: hi babies! thank you all so much for the love on part one! I'm thrilled you're all enjoying melodies! I can't wait to bring you some more! i'm always working on this story so updates will come as they're completed! <3
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Ellie offered to close for you so you could go home earlier and take your time getting ready. The only thing Harry told you was to dress comfortably. He said he wants to show off his cooking skills instead of someone elses, and this way he can make sure nobody is around that shouldnt be around. 
Lately Harry had been dealing with a problem, but he wasn’t about to be telling you that. He already knew your apprehension towards dating him because of his status, he didn’t want to chance scaring you off before he had a proper chance of making you happy.
Someone had been trying to get close to Harry, trying to learn information and sell it to his number one enemy, Scott Jones; another prominent mafia boss in the area. He wanted Harry’s contacts, warehouses and secrets. Everyone wanted Harry’s contacts. Everyone wanted his status. They wanted the power. Harry had it all. The money, the loyal men, the status, the everything. The only thing he didn’t have, was the girl. But oh did he find one, and oh was he obsessed with her. But she wanted very little to do with him. 
Until now.
He picked you up at six on the dot, nevermind how he got your address. You’ll just have to thank Ellie later. She’s also the one who slipped him your phone number, but she refuses to admit it. 
“You look lovely. I love the matching sweatpants.” Harry grins down at you, taking your hand in his and offering a kiss to your knuckles, just as he did yesterday.
“You told me to wear something comfortable, and it doesn't get much more comfortable than sweatpants and a hoodie.”
“No, no. I’m not complaining,” he rushes out. “I said comfortable, and you–.”
“Calm down, Styles. You didn’t offend me,” you chuckle at his anxiousness. It’s a little surprising to you.
“Oh. I know,” he half laughs. “Are you ready?” you nod in response, and he opens the car door. You don’t miss the line of cars behind his as you get into the front seat.
The drive to Harry’s estate doesnt take super long. A couple of winding roads, a gate with guards, and a long driveway later and you're there.
His kitchen is set up with the best of the best; every tool and gadget you could ever need. “I was thinking we could make something together. Ellie told me your favorite thing to make is pancakes, and those happen to be my specialty,” he says, guiding you into his home. 
Tall black cabinets adorned with gold hardware and a black marble countertop. Everything is so sleek, and elegant and perfect you're almost afraid to exist in the space. But it’s so warm and cozy and inviting at the same time. He’s got candles burning on the counter top and on the coffee table in the living room; which also has black furniture and dark walls. 
“Did she now? What else did she tell you?” you ask, leaning across the kitchen island looking up at him on the other side.
“I guess that will be revealed in due time, my love,” Harry smiles over at you. He pulls the ingredients from the cabinet, and the fridge. “She said to make sure strawberries were involved or to not even bother,” he chuckles softly, placing a carton of fresh berries on the counter. 
“That’s a little dramatic, but strawberries are the best topping for pancakes,” you take the knife as he passes it to you, softly rolling your eyes at his “Careful, it’s sharp.” and you don't miss the way he clenches his jaw when you say “Ok, dad”, in response.
“So, what made you say yes to ‘Mr. Big Mafia man’ after all my months of pining for you?”
“First of all, you were mostly pining for my piano. Second of all, I got some advice telling me to live a little and here I am doing that,” you pop a strawberry into your mouth after cutting the top off.  Harry opens his mouth leaning down next to you, silently asking for a berry. You slice the top off another one, raising it to his lips for him to take. He smiles as he chews it, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time; making your skin heat up in silent anticipation.
“Sweet,” he mumbles, licking his lips after he swallows, “Very.. sweet,” his eyes flicker down to your lips, but he snaps out of it at the sound of you clearing your throat. He clears his in response, “Right, I wanted the piano. But you were the real prize,” he says, trying to regain his composure.
“Just because you heard me sing?” you effortlessly cut the strawberries into slices, setting them to the side as you spoke with him. Harry was on your right, mixing the batter together, plus the dash of cinnamon you threw in–“That’s my secret,”--you blush over at him as he eyes you.
“Nah. I was interested in you before that. Your “playing hard to get” attitude feels like a challenge.”  His words make you scoff. “The singing voice is just a plus.”
“I’m not playing hard to get. I am hard to get. And I think if anything, the last year is evidence of that.” you’re grinning to yourself as you continue your task.
“Sure is,” he mumbles to himself, but loud enough for you to hear, making you grin. “But that’s okay, I like a challenge.” He turns away from the counter, leaning to turn the stove on.
“You certainly are the most persistent person I've ever met.” leaves you in the form of a chuckle. You hate to admit how flattered he make you feel by being so adamant in trying to know you
“I don't know, you were pretty persistent on not letting me take you on a date. And about that piano of yours.” He starts dripping the mix onto the surface, creating perfect circles. 
Of course. 
Insert eye roll here.
“Hey, you agreed to not bring up my piano if i sang for you,” you watch him work effortlessly.
“I agreed to stop trying to buy it. I still intend to tease you about it. Although I would appreciate some help in finding a piano that’s as nice as that one.”
You’re startled by a voice that isn't Harry’s. “Sir, there’s been developments.” Harry’s demeanor changes in front of your eyes. His gaze finds the man near the entrance of the kitchen and immediately hardens.
“I said, no interruptions. Are you aware of what that means?” his tone makes your blood run cold. You’ve never seen him this way before. He’s always been goofy and kind to you, sure he demands his men’s respect and can get them to do whatever he wants with the snap of his fingers, but this is different,
“Y-yes, sir, but this is impo–”
“Enough, Liam. Take it to Niall and Mitch,” Harry demands. “I’ll decide what to do with you later. Now leave us.”
“Yes, Har–Sir. Yes, sir.” the man says, leaving in a rush.
“He’s new if you couldn't tell,” Harry jokes, demeanor switching back in an instant. 
“You don’t have to talk to him like that, you know,” you toss a strawberry into your mouth.
“In my line of work, I do. But let's not focus on that, I know you don’t really care for that side of me and that’s okay.”
“Yes, please just keep me in the dark on all of that,” you chuckle, “I don’t need anything else on my conscience,” your words make him laugh. But you also notice the look of worry laced behind his eyes.
“So does that mean there will be a next time?”
“Mm, too early to tell Mr. Mafia man. But I am enjoying this so far.” you offer him a soft smile.
The two of you continue to move effortlessly throughout his space together, as if you were meant to be a part of it all along. He flashes you that award winning smile any chance he gets. After the pancakes are done and topped with the strawberries, he leads you to his patio where he has a large projector screen set up with a sea of blankets and pillows for you two to sit on. 
“I hear you enjoy the Harry Potter movies, and I happen to be a fan as well. So i figured we could have a little marathon while we got to know each other,”
“Har–” you notice the way his eyes glimmer with a sliver of hope, but that was a mess up,--”Styles, that sounds perfect,” you whisper. His face slightly drops at your correction, but he’s deterred none. Shaking it off, he smiles over at you, helping you take a seat on the blanketed area.
“You strike me as a slytherin with that attitude of yours,” he jokes with you. “I’m a Gryffindor myself.”
“Mm, I would have thought you to be a Hufflepuff,”
“Those are fighting words,” he says as he leans over and grabs a pillow. Swiftly catching on, you immediately grab one as well and strike first; landing a blow to the side of his head. He chuckles, “You’re going to regret that, Birdie,” his threat makes you giggle. 
You burst with laughter as he takes hold of one of your ankles, and pulls you towards him, making you tumble back from the sudden movement; the pillows breaking the short fall from your sitting position. His pillow begins making repeated contact with your upper body, your arms shoot up in an attempt to cover your head. His light blows of the pillow make both of your laughs fill the air.
“God, Styles at–whack–least pretend to–whack–-let me win,” you giggle out.
He pauses his movements for a split second, smiling at you from above deviously. He takes hold of both of your hands in one of his, slightly pulling you into a sitting position.
“No,” and he whacks you again lightly upside your head, sending you backwards into the pillows below again
“Rude,” you huff, making him laugh.
“Had enough?”
“Mhm,” you pout. Putting your hand out, you silently ask for help, but keep hold of your pillow with the other hand. He pulls you to sit, but is surprised to feel your pillow collide with the side of his face, sending him backwards this time. You take the opportunity to straddle his hips, and repeatedly whack him with the pillow. Lightly of course.”How do you like it? Hm?” you tease from above. Harry has that permanent grin all over his face. His hands find your hips, giving them a light squeeze before he switches your positions so he's hovering over you again. You go silent, but have a huge smile etched onto your lips.
“What’s wrong, Birdie?” he gloats, “Got no defense now?” Low laughs fall from his lips as he watches you swallow in anticipation, You look up to his lips, also forming a grin. “Whatcha lookin at? Hm?”
“Do you want to kiss me as bad as I want to kiss you right now?”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you from the moment you first told me ‘No’ when I asked to buy your piano, and then even more when you told me to get out of your store.”
“Why haven’t you then?” you ask breathlessly, raising an eyebrow at him.
“I wanted you to be comfortable with the idea before I made my move,” he says, connecting your lips together for the first time.
You’ve never felt so comforted yet nervous by someone's touch before. He feels of danger and darkness, but comfort and safety at the same time. He could give you the best of both worlds, if you’d let him of course. Deepening the kiss he feels your hands snake under his shirt, learning the defined muscles across the area. Harry caresses the side of your face in his left hand, bracing himself near your head on the right.
He pulls away, looking at the blown look in your eyes and chuckles softly. “As much as I would love for this to continue, I want to do this right with you and make sure this is really what you want.”
Harry’s admission makes your hardened heart soften just a little bit. “Ever the gentleman, Styles.”
“Still just Styles after that?” he teases.
“The night is not over yet,” you sit up, shoving him backwards.
“Indeed it is not.”
“I can’t believe you’d be offended to be a hufflepuff. Don’t you know they say every Slytherin needs a Hufflepuff?”
Harry ponders for a moment, a look on his face that makes you think he’s actually mulling over a serious thought inside his big ass head. “If you’re guaranteed to be my Slytherin then I'd consider the change.”
“You’d change your Hogwarts house for me?” you look down to your hands sitting in your lap, a grin formed on your lips as you speak.
“I’d try to change the world for you,” Harry whispers. Your head snaps up, looking into his eyes.
“That.. has to be the cheesiest thing i've ever heard on a first date,” you chuckle, making him laugh with you.
“Please, you were eating that up Birdie.” he attempts to play it off.
“Would you really though?”
“Of course,” he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.
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“Any chance we’ll do this again? Or am I banned?” Harry asks, pulling your hand up to kiss your knuckles. Giggles leave your lips.
Leaning up, you give him a kiss. “What do you think, Styles?” you whisper. Harry’s skin heats up, his face turning a light tinge of pink
“How about this friday?”
“That’s literally tomorrow,” you chuckle.
“Okay?” he questions, unsure where your worry is coming from. He'll ease all of your worries if you’d let him. He’d give you everything if you’d let him.
So what? He thinks
You pretend to mull it over in your head for a moment, “Okay.” you finally agree.
“Okay?” He seems almost puzzled.
“Okay. But no labels. And nothing extravagant.”
“Okay,” he smiles at you, offering one more kiss and a “See you tomorrow, Birdie.” Harry leaves you standing in the doorway to your apartment, a light blush evident all over your cheeks. 
Heading inside you immediately call Ellie to thank her for being so thorough in telling Harry everything about you. She was adamant she didn't know what you were talking about but said you’re welcome anyways. “Now, about Mitch” you start telling her the details about the double bunned man. 
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A slew of dates followed the first one. He was determined to change your mind about no labels… and about not wanting anything extravagant. Harry wanted to show you the world of opportunities he offered you by saying yes to being his. The second date he took you one was to the restaurant he owned at the marina. Some of the finest dining you’d ever seen. A complete turn around from the pancakes you’d had the night before. When you’d asked him what to wear this time, he’d told you not to worry, that something would show up for you soon. A sleek, black satin dress with a scoop neckline showed up at your store before your date, earning a genuine eye roll from you. 
“I said nothing extravagant, Styles,” you scolded him as you stepped into the car. 
“The smile you’re attempting to hide from me betrays your words, Birdie,” he gloats from his seat next to you. “You look wonderful.”
“Just because I like playing dress up does not mean I'm not mad at you.”
Harry grabs your hand, raising it to his lips to place a soft kiss on the back. The gesture never failing to make you blush. “Whatever you say, darling.”
“Sir, Scott Jones has just arrived at the restaurant. Should we change locations?” Suguru questions from the front seat. 
“No, this is my turf…” he begins speaking, his grip on your hand almost feels tighter as the words leave him. “...I won’t be made a fool of in my own establishment.”
“Scott Jones?” you whisper to Harry who’s got a vice grip on his cellphone, typing angrily. Your hand comes to rest on his leg.
The stiffness in Harry’s stature eased at the sound of your voice and the feeling of your touch. He wonders just where you’ve been all of his life. Your ability to make the darkness not seem so dark inside his mind makes him feel like there might be a point to all of this.
“He’s just a contact. Nothing for you to worry about, Birdie,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head.
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Harry loved taking photos. His camera roll was full of his favorite things to look at. Whether it was a nicely decorated room or a view he’d seen on a business trip. But now, his camera roll was full of one thing and one thing only; you. Photos of you from your first date, lying peacefully in the blanket fort with pillows surrounding your serene looking frame. He thought you looked beautiful when you were all dressed up, but he thought you looked your best when you were dressed down. Harry just loved having reminders of your pretty face. 
He had other photos of you; sitting at your piano, or laying in his bed. Photos of you on every date he’d taken you on. So many videos of you singing along with the radio. Any song could come on when he was visiting you and you were able to match the tempo perfectly on the keys. Your voice always sounded sweet like honey in his ears. His favorite photo was the one you took with him, a selfie of you kissing his cheek. He felt like a teenage boy freaking out over his highschool crush when he spent almost an hour just grinning to himself while looking at the picture.
You were still hesitant to say you were fully in a relationship with him, even all these months later. He’d visit you every day in your store, telling you he’d be ready whenever you were. You were it for him, he was just waiting for you to be on the same page. 
Harry smiled down at you laying on his chest. He’d rented a cabana at the beach and planned a day with you just to relax and be with each other. Talking of everything big and small. After you mentioned that you loved being around water, it seemed like every date had a water undertone to it. A dinner date at the marina. A trip to the aquarium. Day dates on his yacht, which often turned into sunset cruises. Multiple beach dates. This beach date started to remind you of Pretty Woman since Harry offered to read your book to you while you rested your eyes.
As he read the words off the page all you could think about was how hard you’d fallen for this man without even being aware of it. You can't even pinpoint when it happened. What you do know is that looking up at him in this moment as he reads your book back to you, you’re head over heels for him. 
“This reminds me of Pretty Woman so much,” you chuckle, sitting up out of his hold.
“When he was reading to her under the tree?” 
“You’ve seen it?” you look at him with shock in your eyes. You’d never have thought in a million years Mr. Mafia man would have seen such a chick flick.
“I hadn't before, but you’ve mentioned it so much I wanted to see what you were referring to,” Harry admitted, closing the book with a thud. He sits up next to you, and caresses the side of your face. Leaning into his touch, you smile softly at him.
“You’re really determined, you know that?” you whisper.
Harry rubs his thumb over the apple of your cheek, eyeing your mouth as he speaks. “Took you long enough to notice,” he places a soft kiss to your lips and feels you smile against his mouth.
“Who knew the big mafia boss had a soft side.” you chuckle, kissing him back.
“Only for you, darling. When are you gonna let me make it official and call you mine?” his thumb brushes over your bottom lip.
“I--" you start to think of what to say. You want to try this with him. He’s more than proved himself, but you still have reservations. Mostly because of who, or what he is. His life eats, sleeps and breathes danger. You just want to run your little music store in the middle of downtown. He’s making it easy to forget that life you had planned for yourself.” –I don't know. I’m scared.”
“I know you are, but I'm here when you’re ready.” His fingers thread their way into your hair as he lulls your head to the side and pressing his lips to your neck. “I have a question for you though,” he whispers against the surface. Harry pulls back to gauge your reaction
Your eyes look glazed over and blown out, so he continues. Your hands find his shoulders in an attempt to hold yourself upright on the cabana bed. 
“Well, more of a request,” he hums. “I have an event tomorrow evening I need a date for. Would you be interested in accompanying me?
“Is it something fun?” you pull his head to be level with yours, looking directly at his lips with lust behind your gaze.
“Have I asked you to do anything so far that hasn't been fun?”
“No,” you shake your head at him and kiss him. Pushing him to lay back, your leg hikes up around his hip. “I would love to accompany you to your event tomorrow, Styles.” 
“Still just Styles, huh? Even when you’re trying to get into my trunks?” His teasing words make you retract your touch from his body, fully sitting up again. “Nuh uh, you get back here,” he laughs, pulling you back down with him making you giggle. Harry gives you an onslaught of kisses all over your face, pulling more and more laughs from you; his second favorite thing to hear. He knows all of his favorite sounds will get outranked one day… he just has to wait for that day to come. Harry slides his hands down your sides and digs his fingertips into your sides, making you squeal.
“S-stop! I’m ticklish!” you whine.
“Oh, and that’s supposed to make me want to stop?” He continues his playful assault, laughing along with you. You manage to get one up on him, swinging your leg over his hips so you’re straddling him. Taking hold of his wrists in your hands, you pin them on either side of his head, smirking down at him. “Mm, what’s your plan now, Birdie?” he shows off that million dollar smile. You cover his lips with yours, tasting the salt from the ocean on his skin. Harry offers you a hum of approval at the feeling of your mouth on his, making you smile. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, making you gasp. Letting go of the grip on his wrists, your hands tangle into the chestnut tufts of his hair. Harry cups your jaw with both hands as he pulls you off of him. “We can't,” he whispers against your lips before you’re attaching your lips again. “Birdie,” he says, pulling you off again.
“What?” you ask, a grin plastered on your face. “Why can't we?”
“Well, number one we’re in public,” he motions to all the other couples scattered around the various surrounding cabanas. “And two, Mitch and Niall are not going to be getting an eyeful of what's mine,” he growls, taking your lips with his once more. You groan once he pulls away.
“I never said I was yours,” you tease, letting him sit up with you.
“You’ve always been mine…” he says, caressing the side of your face in one hand, “...ever since I stepped into your store for the first time.”
You clear your throat, “Right, about tomorrow though?”
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Ellie won't let you see the dress you’re wearing; the only thing she’ll tell you is that it's red and beautiful. You decided to close up early since she’d offered to help you get ready. Harry said he was going to take care of everything, but you at least asked if you could get ready yourself. Having strangers mess with your appearance wasn’t at the top of your ideal things to do today list.
Harry told you to be ready by seven, he’d pick you up on the dot. You were sitting in the sink of your bathroom as you put your makeup on, paying extra close attention to the details today. Ellie stands behind you with the curling iron as you two argue over Harry. You’re still adamant on not being ready, but Ellie keeps calling your bluff. 
“Why wont you just let yourself be happy?” Ellie asks as she helps you curl your hair. 
“You date a Mafia boss and tell me you're not terrified at the end of the day,” you chuckle, sweeping your blush brush across your cheeks.
“So you’re telling me you dont like him?”
“That’s not what I said, I said I was scared.”
“So you do like him?” she asks excitedly. 
You do, and that’s what scares you. This was supposed to be just something fun for you. You never envisioned feeling this way. 
You nod slowly, “Probably too much,” the admission feeling like a weight off of your shoulders. “Think I’ll tell him tonight, if it goes as well as I'm hoping it does.” Ellie is bubbling with excitement at your words. She’s probably already planning your wedding.
“You’ve been leading him on for months now, just give in and see where it takes you!”
Ellie was kinda right. But in reality, you don’t owe him anything and you know that. But you do really want to see where this could possibly take you. You already feel so much for this man, but who knows what else could happen.
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Harry picked you up exactly when he said he would, knocking on your door at seven sharp. You open the door, and you’re met with your handsome date for the evening in a black on black suit with a red boutonniere on the left hand side that matches your dress impeccably well.
“You look… wow.”
A light blush forms on your cheeks at his words. “You look pretty wow yourself, Harry.”
He takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the silky material of the gloves that stop just below your elbow. “You look fantastic, not just wow.” he smiles at you, placing a kiss on your cheek. “I have one more surprise,” he pulls a box from his jacket pocket.
“Oh? And what would that be?”
“Well, I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
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taglist: @freedomfireflies @harrysonlylover @daydreamingofmatilda @triski73 @evie-119
@vamprry @howling-wolf97
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fraugwinska · 24 days
Note
What about the reader found and old radio, they thought the radio was broken but it's not, it's just antique.. when they play it at night time alastor broadcast was heard first they feel something is odd.. but they love to listen to his voice, heck they even like talking to each other, because of this encounter alastor talk about it to rosie, she was happy hearing alastor telling her stories but she feel odd when alastor mention that the person he talks to is a human, Rosie giving him advice to not fall for human because they're different species, and it will make him weak etc.
Alastor feel guilty and agree with rosie advice so he's stop contacting the reader from the radio, he thinks that the reader will be fine but no the reader take it personally.. they thought alastor don't want to talk to them anymore.. it drive them mad and lead to suicide..
So yeah angst :D
Oh Anon. What have you done.
I cried while I wrote that - it took two very good friends of mine to encourage me to post it (Thanks to @macabr3-barbi3 and @mysterypotatoink). But I think it's tragic and beautiful, and honestly - I'm kinda proud of it!
TW: Psychological Trauma, descend into madness, loss of self care and suicide - please take care of yourself and do not read if you aren't comfortable with any of the mentioned! MINORS DNI
Here we go.
❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️
Leap of Faith
You carried in the last box from you banged-up minivan. The old thing barely made it to your new home. A little cabin in the outskirts of New Orleans, a little off the grid and surrounded by the peaceful and whirring bayous of Louisiana.
A fixer-upper, just like yourself.
The online auction had intrigued you the second you found it, the photos were a bit blurry and you knew it was a risk to buy a place you've never set foot in, but something in you called you to get it. The price you paid was laughable, barely making a dent in your savings. Moving states sounded scary and impossible, but you felt oddly calm about it.
You didn't have a lot of stuff to move anyway. After all, you only lived with your late grandmother, and she never really cared for material things. Your parents left you at her doorstep, never to be seen again.
Caring for her in her last, sickness-ridden years had been a no-brainer - it felt like nothing in comparison to all she had done for you - but it also had been a bit lonely.
You had your friends, if you could even call them that, but you rarely saw them - guiding your nan through the last months of her life had been demanding and time-consuming. It had left you exhausted and emotionally unavailable, and after a while, calls and texts ceased, until it was just you and her. You felt lost, as if the world was slowly pulling away from you.
When she finally died, peacefully in her sleep, you felt sad, relieved and drained.
Detached from the city you lived in.
Lost.
So you decided to sell what little you inherited, except for a few sentimental mementos, and move away from it all. To start a new life, a happier one, finally one that was truly your own.
You took the final box inside, setting it on the coffee table and wiped the sweat from your brow. You looked around the little cabin: The roof had some spots that needed a patch, and the wood floors were a bit warped, but it was all yours. No more having to share anything with anyone.
The cabin came furnished, a lot of the stuff was old, but still usable. You figured that would change once you settled in and had a vision of what you wanted and needed to buy. The thought of thinking about no one but yourself made you nervous.
But a little excited, too.
The old furniture would do for the moment, but there was a particular piece that caught your eye: an old, vintage cathedral radio, sitting nestled in between a cracked wooden box and a tarnished, bronze candle holder in a bookcase that was a bit out of place in the tiny space. With a tilted head, you stepped closer to inspect it, drawn to it by it's unique character and beauty.
It looked as well-loved as it looked well-used, the mahogany a bit scuffed, the knobs a little worn from years of being turned. But there were golden details etched into the front, and you traced them lightly with a finger, strangely touched and intrigued.
You were certain the old thing didn't work, but when you plugged it into the nearby socket, static erupted from the speakers, making you jump back. You had to smile, though.
Tonight, you wouldn't be alone. You'd have this little device and a little music for good company.
***
"I'm home!" you announced to no one in particular, as you closed the door behind you, your hands full with overfilled grocery bags full of necessities, waiting to fill your empty cabinets.
The day had been hot, but a welcome breeze of the impending night break cooled the inside of your little cabin a bit. With a quiet grunt you set the paper bags down at the small kitchenette. Your groceries were quickly dispersed, and you put on an apron you saved from your grandmother as you got started on dinner.
You hummed as you cut vegetables and boiled water. It had been a long time since you had cooked, really cooked, your nan wasn't much for eating and had no problem living off of simple soups and toast. When you opened your fridge to get some butter, your glance fell onto the radio.
A little music would be nice, you decided, and you walked over, cleaning your hands on the red, frilly cloth around your waist before you turned the dial. The soft sound of static made you hum in contempt - yup. Still works. A little turn to the left, and the room was filled with a soft jazzy tune, the melody a bit grainy, but you didn't mind that at all. You returned to the stove, swaying your hips to the beat as you worked. The music made you feel at ease, and for a moment, the world seemed to be just right.
Just as the onions began to brown in the pan, the song faded out to a voice. You turned your head to the radio, intrigued by the unusual, eccentric accent of the host. It reminded you of the old, vintage films and recordings your grandmother had been fond of - wasn't it called 'transatlantic'?. Whatever it was, it made you smile.
"Now wasn't that a kick in the head, dearest listener? I sure hope you enjoyed the little musical interlude, but it's time to return to the real show! As usual, my name is Alastor, and you are listening to the best jazz, blues and swing music that Hell has to offer!"
You blinked, a little puzzled and yet amused. "Sure is hot as hell today, strange man in the radio.", you mumbled, chuckling as you stirred the bell peppers under the caramelized onions.
"Today we have a very special guest joining my humble broadcast, it seems. Pleasure to meet you, darling, quite the pleasure!"
"Oh who? Me?" you asked, looking theatrically over your shoulder with batted lashes, shaking your head over your own silliness. You weren't used to talking out loud to yourself, or even really thinking out loud. You were always alone, after all, but the little pretend-play was fun. You laughed a bit, waiting for the host's guest to speak.
"Of course you, little dove. Who else would I mean?"
You gasped, and nearly dropped the spoon as you whipped around, eyes glued to the humming, orange glow of the radio in the dim darkness of your living room.
"What's that? You're surprised, my dear? Don't worry, you're not the only one! This is a first for me, too. Never had a human join my program. I must say, I'm quite intrigued! Tell me, what is your name?"
Your eyes grew wide, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. You took a hesitant step backwards and hit the hot stove, making you curse under your breath. Was the heat finally getting to you?
"Don't be shy now, darling. I'm not gonna hurt you, cross my lil' old, blackened heart."
"I-I'm..." you began, swallowing as your fingers tightened around the wooden spoon. "My name is..."
"Yes?"
"I'm... crazy.", you mumbled, rubbing a hand over your face and chuckling a bit. You were just going insane, that's all. Must be the stress, combined with the intense heat. And lack of a companion, a tiny voice reminded you. Yes. Must be.
"Hello crazy, this is Alastor." The host laughed, together with a canned audience.
"Alastor...", you repeated, realization settling in - this wasn't a joke, or a trick of your mind.
"At your service, my dear.", the voice cooed. "Now, I believe you still owe me your name..."
***
You weren't crazy.
Or if you were, you didn't mind. Not with Alastor by your side - or, to be exact, in the radio on your bookcase.
After two weeks of ignoring the cursed radio after unplugging it in a wave of panic on your first night, your morbid curiosity got the better of you. You plugged it back in, and turned on the dial. Just once, you told yourself, then never ever again.
And that's how the two of you got in contact with each other once more. Alastor was as chipper as the first time you heard him, and after a bit of back-and-forth, he promised once again not to harm you, and you shared your name with him. The rest was history. He was very pleasant company. For a demon from hell.
You wouldn't classify the conversations you had with him as a real friendship in the beginning, but you did talk. Occasionally. Mostly in the evenings, when you cooked dinner: He'd ask you about your day and would pry eagerly for a little bit of gossip or new information about the modern New Orleans. When he let it slip that he lived in this very cabin in the 1920's, you weren't stopping with questions about what it was like back in his days, which he, in return, answered generously and enthusiastically.
The first few times he would try to coerce you into making a deal for your soul, casually sprinkling the offer into his small talk, but with enough blunt refusals and a few more days of radio silence (pun intended), he dropped the topic and seemed content on just talking. You, in return, found yourself relaxing into his charming company, your brain happily engaged with trying to wrap your head around him, or better, you tried to come to terms with it.
Weeks passed, and turning the radio on in the evenings became less of an occasional lapse of judgment but more of a routine you were looking forward to. You could tell the Alastor felt the same, his banter became less tense and acted, and a little more genuine.
It made your heart swell in happiness, that someone out there seemed to appreciate your company – even if that someone wasn't human.
Apprehension became amusement, and fascination became friendship. Oddly enough, you found common grounds in a lot of things: A love for cooking and good music. Preferring books over films. Red wine over white. A shared aversion of vulgarity, and appreciation for good manners.
Your nights were cut shorter and shorter, you would spend hours chatting on and on, until the deep darkness of night disappeared into a shade of blue on the horizon. Neither of you minded, at least that was what you thought. Alastor never ended the conversations with you. Either you had to say your goodbyes, or you would just fall asleep after hours of talking on your couch, and awake with a pained back to a shut-off radio. Then, after you'd realize that you would have a whole day ahead of you without hearing his voice, the loss would make your chest ache.
Two months into the 'thing', which was still a strange concept you could barely comprehend, the truth of the matter dawned on you: You liked him. Not just because he was a surprisingly amicable voice coming out of your vintage radio, a lively constant in the uneventful life you had made for yourself in Louisiana - he had become important to you, irreplaceable, even. An essential element to your life. You couldn't imagine how you'd gone so long without him, and yet, here you were, lost without him, scrambling through the hours until you could talk to him once more.
"Something on your mind, darling? You're awfully quiet today."
You held your fork and knife still above the salmon you had just been about to eat. It was the first meal of the evening in a long time where you weren't spending the entirety of the preparation time speaking to him, lost in thought about your blossoming feelings. He had gotten excellent at reading you like an open book - you should've gotten used to it after a couple of weeks of him catching on to every little change in your demeanor and knowing just what to say, when you were feeling happy, upset or nervous.
"Oh, um... no. It's nothing Al. Work had me in a wringer today."
"Is it your co-worker Susan again?" You could basically hear his eyes rolling, making you chuckle. "That name must be cursed, every single soul with that name is a menacing pain."
"Maybe,", you muttered, nibbling on a piece of the roasted fish. "This one is mostly just an ornery old bitch."
"Taking the words right out of my mouth, dear." he laughed.
There's was a comfortable pause, with just a gentle background noise of his ever-playing static and an easy, melodic tune coming from his program.
"Is that really all that preoccupies that pretty little head of yours?"
You blushed, picking at the food with your fork. "Bold for a guy who's never seen me to assume my head is pretty."
The radio crackled with pops and feedback. "Bold to assume I can't see you whenever I want, little dove." he said, his voice strangely deeper, tinged with something you didn't catch at the shock of his words.
"You... what?"
"And I can most assure you,", he purred out of the speakers, "pretty is a well fitting word to describe you."
He hummed in approval when your cheeks gained color, as if he knew his comment threw you off guard and made you turn a lovely shade of pink, but it didn't make it any less enticing.
***
"Alastor, if I didn't know better, I would say you have become smitten with this mysterious gal you're blabbing on and about."
Rosie giggled, hitting his shoulder in a playful, friendly swipe. "When will I meet her? Come on now, you can't hide her forever. Or are you afraid she'll like me better?"
She laughed, and Alastor forced a toothy grin. His long time friend was the only one he talked about you with, and he knew she was intrigued whenever she could smell a blooming dalliance, especially with a notoriously abstinent bachelor like himself. Normally, he would laugh at that thought with a healthy dose of mockery, but he found himself to be less and less aversed at the thought - if it would be you. Impossible, of course.
"Nonsense, Rosie dear, nonsense,", he chuckled, taking a large sip from his coffee cup, a heavy hand bringing up a plate stacked with finger sandwiches. "And I'm afraid you won't meet her for a long time, maybe never. Humans seldom traverse to hell in their lifetime, and who knows if the little darling will take on the trip downstairs?"
Rosie coughed in her tea, her blackened eyes wide in shock. "Human? It's a human girl you've been courting here? Oh, Alastor, you old fool."
Alastor scrunched his nose, "Talking, Rosie, talking is all we do. And yes, she's a human. I don't see the quandary in that. It's just a little fun."
"Well,", she huffed with a small, thoughtful frown. "I would've hoped for a little more sense in you." The tall demonesse set down her teacup with nimble fingers.
"You may not call it courting, but if it quacks like a duck, it's a duck, love." Rosie ignored the indignant look Alastor gave her. "You know as well as I do that such a connection is dangerous to entertain. Humans are fragile and fragile things tend to break. And when they do, the owner mostly follows. You need to break this connection off."
Rosie gave him a sad look as his ears flattened against his head. She would've been more than happy for her oldest and dearest friend to have a partner on his side, someone good and honest who really cared about him, maybe loved him even, as unlovable as he was. But she had to protect him from the silly idea of possibly falling for a living, breathing and supposedly untarnished soul, and the heartbreak that would surely follow. "Don't make the mistake of breaking your heart, dear friend." she smiled, a tint of melancholy hidden in the red of her lips.
"I think it's far too late for that."
She offered a handkerchief, but Alastor waved her off, his smile more faint and close to a frown than she's ever seen.
***
The first day where nothing but static noise came out of the radio, you were irritated but just thought: 'Maybe Alastor has something to do'.
The second day of static you grew concerned. 'What if something happened to Alastor? Was he okay?'.
On the third day, you were panicked. 'Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you anymore! Maybe he met someone in hell, someone that he could talk to whenever he wanted and not through an old, dusty radio?'.
"Please talk to me.", you whispered into the empty room. Your knees were pulled to your chest, and you sat on your couch, eyes fixed on the radio in the bookcase. Your eyes stung with the tears threatening to spill. "Please, Al. I miss you." You shook your head, chuckling sadly. It had only been 3 days, but they'd felt like an eternity. The world had seemed silent without Alastor's constant chatter.
When night fell for the fourth day, you were half asleep, eyes red and burning and tears still staining your cheeks. You talked for hours into the void of your house, the radio now moved to sit in front of you on the coffee table, growing more and more desperate as hours passed. Talking faded into pleading, and pleading into begging.
"Please, I'm sorry, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry...", you mumbled into the wooden furnishing, resting your cheek against the top of the machine, eyes slipping shut with fatigue and defeat. A dry sob slipped past your trembling lips, as your hands desperately grabbed the sides of the antique device.
"Alastor please, don't leave me alone here...", you whispered with the last of your strength, before your body succumbed to your exhaustion, your unconscious mind welcomed the darkness.
If you had stayed awake for just a moment more, you would've, maybe, heard the faint shuddering breath beyond the static rumble. But you didn't. So you had no chance at knowing that, Alastor, listening to every word, saw and heard you at your weakest, and all it did to him was stir the embers and give the blaze an opening for the flames of his anger at fate to rage.
Work had called, again. Susan of all people. Threats were made - either come back to work, or don't come back at all. You smashed your phone. It was useless anyway. What was the point without...
Alastor wasn't here, hadn't answered for seven days now. And you had spent the whole time talking, begging him to show himself, just show himself and tell you what you did wrong, just talk to you one last time and then you'd stop, if that was what he wanted. You became obsessed with the orange light of the illuminated screen, imagining the flickers were maybe signs from him.
You stopped eating, stopped drinking, stopped almost anything, you just sat, in front of the radio, unmoving and unwilling to miss the smallest sign of his return.
Every single minute stretched into agony, and every breath that left your lips made a fresh tear roll down your paling cheeks, until your body couldn't produce them anymore. Then, you cried wordless whimpers and moans, even started praying to an unknown entity.
It wasn't as if Alastor owed you anything. It's not as though you thought the two of you were anything other than two kindred souls, one human, one demon, talking to each other. As a result, it wasn't like you had the right to anything from him.
It was strange to consider the connection the two of you shared: Something more than acquaintances, something closer than friends, and yet never fully crossing the line beyond it. The unpenetrable boundary dividing life and death in between.
Your eyes fell on a large, old crucifix on your wall, staring back at you with pity.
For the first time in days, you left the sofa, took it from the wall and burned it on your gas stove, watching the face of the nailed figurine slowly melt in the fire.
***
It had been eight days of excruciating, one-sided silence.
Eight days Alastor cursed his cowardice as he sat, red eyed with claws digging into his scalp, as he listened to you plead for him to talk - To answer. To do anything. Anything, but leave you alone, he heard, as if the words were spoken right in his ear.
Eight days of watching you slowly detriment from the eyes of the shadows he was able to manifest above, tugging on the very fabric of the world to move you, to keep your mind from going where it shouldn't go.
He kept telling himself it was for the better. His shadows murmured persistent reminders that he should find entertainment in your growing lunacy. He was the radio demon, after all. He shouldn't care if this wisp of a human were to perish, should laugh at your wails of agony and despair.
But Alastor never felt less like laughing. Your dried sobs and pained apologies for things you never did wrong in the first place filled his head, taunting and gnawing on him with feelings he thought he was unable to feel: Guilt and Regret.
It was as Rosie had predicted - he was becoming weak. But weakness was something that should be avoided. Had to be. He knew. Being weak, being feeble, would make him vulnerable, make him into the prey his cruel from already portrayed to the world he had to inherit. He couldn't allow it. Couldn't let his feelings for you bring him down to the levels of the sinners in hell he would tear apart and laugh while he did it.
That's why he stayed silent. Endured it, all of it, every word, cry and plea. Stayed invisible and silent, waiting for you to move on, forget him, shut off and leave the radio, never to turn the dial again. For your sake and his.
When the connection broke, on that eight day, Alastor could feel your resignation, your peace with which your pale hands gripped the electrical cord at it's base to pull. And he was suddenly filled with the awareness of something horrible, like a premonition. It set his already battered, aching heart in an ice cold grasp of dread.
His room exploded in green light as he expanded into his full demonic form, his limbs threatening to pull and burst at the stitches and his smile splitting his face almost entirely in half. He had to reach out, had to reform the connection to the radio one last time, even though nearly impossible.
You were about to do something he would never be able to forgive himself for.
***
Your car broke down just where it needed to. You took the radio out of the trunk, knocking the hood two times for a goodbye, the key safely in the ignition. Maybe some other poor soul would find and repair it, make happier memories with it.
You clutched the wooden device closer and started to walk. Indigo blue faded into black as you looked up to the sky that was sprinkled with glowing, shimmering silver dust, stars blinking in the unimaginable distance. There, but out of reach.
Just like him.
Your dry sob stung in your throat, but you didn't really feel the pain. Your eyes were fixed on the path to your final destination, right in front of you.
The Crescent City Connection Bridge was mostly abandoned by traffic at this time of night and provided just enough covered spaces to hide you from some foolish saviors eyes.
You didn't need to be saved.
You didn't want to be saved.
Because you were about to save yourself.
There was nothing waiting for you in the other direction than the one you were going. So, with slow but steady steps, you walked towards the middle of the bridge, settling on a place next to a metal pillar and looked over the railing onto the shimmering waters of the Mississippi River.
Alastor had told you about the river, how he loved to watch the steam boats floating on it from the radio station where he worked at when he was alive. The station was long gone, you didn't even find out where it had been in the first place, but you liked to imagine that you were looking at the same scenery now that he had been looking at when he peered out of his booth in his radio tower.
It made you smile through the tears... You were glad the end was somehow connected to him, even if it was most likely just your naive imagination.
It felt like the device in your arms was emitting static energy, prickling over your arms, hands and fingers as you caressed the mahogany wood gently, feeling as though the radio was shaking in your hands, trying to pull you back from the fenced ledge.
A quiet sob escaped your lips, turning into a giggle and into hysterical laughter. You sat down between the railing, and hugged the radio close, trying to breathe as you closed your eyes, resting your temple on the worn, warm wood.
"It'll be okay, Al.", you said quietly, your voice unnaturally hoarse and rough from lack of use and dehydration. "I'm coming. I'm coming to you.”
With one arm around the radio, holding it tight against your chest, you turned to stand on shaky legs, gripping the railing with one arm and, with one final glance at the stars above you you smiled. You heard sirens in the distance, and some people shouting from a sparkling streamliner passing under the bridge. Time was running short, so you didn't wait to put first one foot over the fence, then the other, taking a deep breath.
"I guess doves were always meant to fly."
And, with that, your body twisted, turned and leaped, falling as the light on the radio, firmly pressed against your heart, began to glow in deepest crimson and swirls of green.
Falling like an angel would descend from grace.
Part 2 for closure
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secretgamergirl · 6 months
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How a Computer Works - Part 1 (Components)
I am about to teach you on a real fundamental, connecting up electronic components level, how a computer actually works. Before I get into the meat of this though (you can just skip down below the fold if you don't care), here's the reasons I'm sitting doing so in this format:
Like a decade or two ago, companies Facebook pushed this whole "pivot to video" idea on the whole internet with some completely faked data, convincing everyone that everything had to be a video, and we need to start pushing back against that. Especially for stuff like complex explanations of things or instructions, it's much more efficient to just explain things clearly in text, maybe with some visual aids, so people can easily search, scan, and skip around between sections. It's also a hell of a lot easier to host things long term, and you can even print out a text based explainer and not need a computer to read it, keep it on a desk, highlight it, etc.
People are so clueless about how computers actually work that they start really thinking like it's all magical. Even programmers. Aside from how proper knowledge lets you get more out of them, this leads to people spouting off total nonsense about "teaching sand to think" or "everything is just 1s and 0s" or "this 'AI' a con artist who was trying to sell me NFTs a month ago probably really is an amazing creative thinking machine that can do everything he says!"
We used to have this cultural value going where it was expected that if you owned something and used it day to day, you'd have enough basic knowledge of how it worked that if it stopped working you could open it up, see what was wrong, and maybe fix it on your own, or maybe even put one together again from scratch, and that's obviously worth bringing back.
I'm personally working on a totally bonkers DIY project and I'd like to hype up like-minded people for when it gets farther along.
So all that said, have a standard reminder that I am completely reliant on Patreon donations to survive, keep updating this blog, and ideally start getting some PCBs and chips and a nice oscilloscope to get that mystery project off the ground.
Electricity probably doesn't work like how you were taught (and my explanation shouldn't be trusted too far either).
I remember, growing up, hearing all sorts of things about electricity having this sort of magical ability to always find the shortest possible path to where it needs to get, flowing like water, and a bunch of other things that are kind of useful for explaining how a Faraday cage or a lightning rod works, and not conflicting with how simple electronics will have a battery and then a single line of wire going through like a switch and a light bulb or whatever back to the other end of the battery.
If you had this idea drilled into your head hard enough, you might end up thinking that if we have a wire hooked to the negative end of a battery stretching off to the east, and another wire stretching off to the east from the positive end, and we bridge between the two in several places with an LED or something soldered to both ends, only the westernmost one is going to light up, because hey, the shortest path is the one that turns off as quickly as possible to connect to the other side, right? Well turns out no, all three are going to light up, because that "shortest path" thing is a total misunderstanding.
Here's how it actually works, roughly. If you took basic high school chemistry, you learned about how the periodic table is set up, right? A given atom, normally, has whatever number of protons in the core, and the same number of electrons, whipping all over around it, being attracted to those protons but repelled by each other, and there's particular counts of electrons which are super chill with that arrangement so we put those elements in the same column as each other, and then as you count up from those, you get the elements between those either have some electrons that don't fit all tight packed in the tight orbit and just kinda hang out all wide and lonely and "want to" buddy up with another atom that has more room, up to the half full column that can kinda go either way, then as we approach the next happy number they "want to" have a little more company to get right to that cozy tight packed number, and when you have "extra" electrons and "missing" electrons other atoms kinda cozy up and share so they hit those good noble gas counts.
I'm sure real experts want to scream at me for both that and this, but this is basically how electricity works. You have a big pile of something at the "positive" end that's "missing electrons" (for the above reason or maybe actually ionized so they really aren't there), and a "negative" end that's got spares. Then you make wires out of stuff from those middle of the road elements that have awkward electron counts and don't mind buddying up (and also high melting points and some other handy qualities) and you hook those in there. And the electron clouds on all the atoms in the wire get kinda pulled towards the positive side because there's more room over there, but if they full on leave their nucleus needs more electron pals, so yeah neighbors get pulled over, and the whole wire connected to the positive bit ends up with a positive charge to it, and the whole wire on the negative bit is negatively charged, and so yeah, anywhere you bridge the gap between the two, the electrons are pretty stoked about balancing out these two big awkward compromises and they'll start conga lining over to balance things out, and while they're at it they'll light up lights or shake speakers or spin motors or activate electromagnets or whatever other rad things you've worked out how to make happen with a live electric current.
Insulators, Resistors, Waves, and Capacitors
Oh and we typically surround these wires made of things that are super happy about sharing electrons around with materials that are very much "I'm good, thanks," but this isn't an all or nothing system and there's stuff you can connect between the positive and negative ends of things that still pass the current along, but only so much so fast. We use those to make resistors, and those are handy because sometimes you don't want to put all the juice you have through something because it would damage it, and having a resistor anywhere along a path you're putting current through puts a cap on that flow, and also sometimes you might want a wire connected to positive or negative with a really strong resistor so it'll have SOME sort of default charge, but if we get a free(r) flowing connection attached to that wire somewhere else that opens sometimes, screw that little trickle going one way, we're leaning everyone the other way for now.
The other thing with electricity is is that the flow here isn't a basic yes/no thing. How enthusiastically those electrons are getting pulled depends on the difference in charge at the positive and negative ends, and also if you're running super long wires then even if they conduct real good, having all that space to spread along is going to kinda slow things to a trickle, AND the whole thing is kinda going to have some inherent bounciness to it both because we're dealing with electrons whipping and spinning all over and because, since it's a property that's actually useful for a lot of things we do with electricity, the power coming out of the wall has this intentional wobbly nature because we've actually got this ridiculous spinny thing going on that's constantly flip flopping which prong of the socket is positive and which is negative and point is we get these sine waves of strength by default, and they kinda flop over if we're going really far.
Of course there's also a lot of times when you really want to not have your current flow flickering on and off all the time, but hey fortunately one of the first neat little electronic components we ever worked out are capacitors... and look, I'm going to be straight with you. I don't really get capacitors, but the basic idea is you've got two wires that go to big wide plates, and between those you have something that doesn't conduct the electricity normally, but they're so close the electromagnetic fields are like vibing, and then if you disconnect them from the flow they were almost conducting and/or they get charged to their limit, they just can't deal with being so charged up and they'll bridge their own gap and let it out. So basically you give them electricity to hold onto for a bit then pass along, and various sizes of them are super handy if you want to have a delay between throwing a switch and having things start doing their thing, or keeping stuff going after you break a connection, or you make a little branching path where one branch connects all regular and the other goes through a capacitor, and the electricity which is coming in in little pulses effectively comes out as a relatively steady stream because every time it'd cut out the capacity lets its charge go.
We don't just have switches, we have potentiometers.
OK, so... all of the above is just sort of about having a current and maybe worrying about how strong it is, but other than explaining how you can just kinda have main power rails running all over, and just hook stuff across them all willy-nilly rather than being forced to put everything in one big line, but still, all you can do with that is turn the whole thing on and off by breaking the circuit. Incidentally, switches, buttons, keys, and anything else you use to control the behavior of any electronic device really are just physically touching loose wires together or pulling them apart... well wait no, not all, this is a good bit to know.
None of this is actually pass/fail, really, there's wave amplitudes and how big a difference we have between the all. So when you have like, a volume knob, that's a potentiometer, which is a simple little thing where you've got your wire, it's going through a resistor, and then we have another wire we're scraping back and forth along the resistor, using a knob, usually, and the idea is the current only has to go through X percent of the resistor to get to the wire you're moving, which proportionately reduces the resistance. So you have like a 20 volt current, you've got a resistor that'll drop that down to 5 or so, but then you move this other wire down along and you've got this whole dynamic range and you can fine tune it to 15 or 10 or whatever coming down that wire. And what's nice about this again, what's actually coming down the wire is this wobbily wave of current, it's not really just "on" or "off, and as you add resistance, the wobble stays the same, it's just the peaks and valleys get closer to being just flat. Which is great if you're making, say, a knob to control volume, or brightness, or anything you want variable intensity in really.
Hey hey, it's a relay!
Again, a lot of the earliest stuff people did with electronics was really dependent on that analog wobbly waveform angle. Particularly for reproducing sound, and particularly the signals of a telegraph. Those had to travel down wires for absurd distances, and as previously stated, when you do that the signal is going to eventually decay to nothing. But then someone came up with this really basic idea where every so often along those super long wires, you set something up that takes the old signal and uses it to start a new one. They called them relays, because you know, it's like a relay race.
If you know how an electromagnet works (something about the field generated when you coil a bunch of copper wire around an iron core and run an electric current through it), a relay is super simple. You've got an electromagnet in the first circuit you're running, presumably right by where it's going to hit the big charged endpoint, and that magnetically pulls a tab of metal that's acting as a switch on a new circuit. As long as you've got enough juice left to activate the magnet, you slam that switch and voom you've got all the voltage you can generate on the new line.
Relays don't get used too much in other stuff, being unpopular at the time for not being all analog and wobbily (slamming that switch back and forth IS going to be a very binary on or off sorta thing), and they make this loud clacking noise that's actually just super cool to hear in devices that do use them (pinball machines are one of the main surviving use cases I believe) but could be annoying in some cases. What's also neat is that they're a logical AND gate. That is, if you have current flowing into the magnet, AND you have current flowing into the new wire up to the switch, you have it flowing out through the far side of the switch, but if either of those isn't true, nothing happens. Logic gates, to get ahead of myself a bit, are kinda the whole thing with computers, but we still need the rest of them. So for these purposes, relays re only neat if it's the most power and space efficient AND gate you have access to.
Oh and come to think of it, there's no reason we need to have that magnet closing the circuit when it's doing its thing. We could have it closed by default and yank it open by the magnet. Hey, now we're inverting whatever we're getting on the first wire! Neat!
Relay computers clack too loud! Gimme vacuum tubes!
So... let's take a look at the other main thing people used electricity for before coming up with the whole computer thing, our old friend the light bulb! Now I already touched a bit on the whole wacky alternating current thing, and I think this is actually one of the cases that eventually lead to it being adopted so widely, but the earliest light bulbs tended to just use normal direct current, where again, you've got the positive end and the negative end, and we just take a little filament of whatever we have handy that glows when you run enough of a current through it, and we put that in a big glass bulb and pump out all the air we can, because if we don't, the oxygen in there is probably going to change that from glowing a bit to straight up catching on fire and burning immediately.
But, we have a new weird little problem, because of the physics behind that glowing. Making something hot, on a molecular level, is just kinda adding energy to the system so everything jitters around more violently, and if you get something hot enough that it glows, you're getting it all twitchy enough for tinier particles to just fly the hell off it. Specifically photons, that's the light bit, but also hey, remember, electrons are just kinda free moving and whipping all over looking for their naked proton pals... and hey, inside this big glass bulb, we've got that other end of the wire with the more positive charge to it. Why bother wandering up this whole coily filament when we're in a vacuum and there's nothing to get in the way if we just leap straight over that gap? So... they do that, and they're coming in fast and on elliptical approaches and all, so a bunch of electrons overshoot and smack into the glass on the far side, and now one side of every light bulb is getting all gross and burnt from that and turning all brown and we can't have that.
So again, part of the fix is we switched to alternating current so it's at least splitting those wild jumps up to either side, but before that, someone tried to solve this by just... kinda putting a backboard in there. Stick a big metal plate on the end of another wire in the bulb connected to a positive charge, and now OK, all those maverick electrons smack into here and aren't messing up the glass, but also hey, this is a neat little thing. Those electrons are making that hop because they're all hot and bothered. If we're not heating up the plate they're jumping to, and there's no real reason we'd want to, then if we had a negative signal over on that side... nothing would happen. Electrons aren't getting all antsy and jumping back.
So now we have a diode! The name comes because we have two (di-) electrodes (-ode) we care about in the bulb (we're just kind of ignoring the negative one), and it's a one way street for our circuit. That's useful for a lot of stuff, like not having electricity flow backwards through complex systems and mess things up, converting AC to DC (when it flips, current won't flow through the diode so we lop off the bottom of the wave, and hey, we can do that thing with capacitors to release their current during those cutoffs, and if we're clever we can get a pretty steady high).
More electrodes! More electrodes!
So a bit after someone worked out this whole vacuum tube diode thing, someone went hey, what if it was a triode? So, let's stick another electrode in there, and this one just kinda curves around in the middle, just kinda making a grate or a mesh grid, between our hot always flowing filament and that catch plate we're keeping positively charged when it's doing stuff. Well this works in a neat way. If there's a negative charge on it, it's going to be pushing back on those electrons jumping over, and if there's a positive charge on it, it's going to help pull those electrons over (it's all thin, so they're going to shoot right past it, especially if there's way more of a positive charge over on the plate... and here's the super cool part- This is an analog thing. If we have a relatively big negative charge, it's going to repel everything, if it's a relatively big positive, it's going to pull a ton across, if it's right in the middle, it's like it wasn't even in there, and you can have tiny charges for all the gradients in between.
We don't need a huge charge for any of this though, because we're just helping or hindering the big jump from the high voltage stuff, and huh, weren't we doing this whole weak current controlling a strong current thing before with the relay? We were! And this is doing the same thing! Except now we're doing it all analog style, not slapping switch with a magnet, and we can make those wavy currents peak higher or lower and cool, now we can have phone lines boost over long distances too, and make volume knobs, and all that good stuff.
The relay version of this had that cool trick though where you could flip the output. Can we still flip the output? We sure can, we just need some other toys in the mix. See we keep talking about positive charges and negative charges at the ends of our circuits, but these are relative things. I mentioned way back when how you can use resistors to throttle how much of a current we've got, so you can run two wires to that grid in the triode. One connects to a negative charge and the other positive, with resistors on both those lines, and a switch that can break the connection on the positive end. If the positive is disconnected, we've got a negative charge on the grid, since it's all we've got, but if we connect it, and the resistor to the negative end really limits flow, we're positive in the section the grid's in. And over on the side with the collecting plate, we branch off with another resistor setup so the negative charge on that side is normally the only viable connection for a positive, but when we flip the grid to positive, we're jumping across the gap in the vacuum tube, and that's a big open flow so we'll just take those electrons instead of the ones that have to squeeze through a tight resistor to get there.
That explanation is probably a bit hard to follow because I'm over here trying to explain it based on how the electrons are actually getting pulled around. In the world of electronics everyone decided to just pretend the flow is going the other way because it makes stuff easier to follow. So pretend we have magical positrons that go the other way and if they have nothing better to do they go down the path where we have all the fun stuff further down the circuit lighting lights and all that even though it's a tight squeeze through a resistor, because there's a yucky double negative in the triode and that's worse, but we have the switch rigged up to make that a nice positive go signal to the resistance free promised land with a bonus booster to cut across, so we're just gonna go that way when the grid signal's connected.
Oh and you can make other sorts of logic circuits or double up on them in a single tube if you add more grids and such, which we did for a while, but not really relevant these days.
Cool history lesson but I know there's no relays or vacuum tubes in my computer.
Right, so the above things are how we used to make computers, but they were super bulky, and you'd have to deal with how relays are super loud and kinda slow, and vacuum tubes need a big power draw and get hot. What we use instead of either of those these days are transistors. See after spending a good number of years working out all this circuit flow stuff with vacuum tubes we eventually focused on how the real important thing in all of this is how with the right materials you can make a little juncture where current flows between a positive and negative charge if a third wire going in there is also positively charged, but if it's negatively charged we're pulling over. And turns out there is a WAY more efficient way of doing that if you take a chunk of good ol' middle of the electron road silicon, and just kinda lightly paint the side of it with just the tiniest amount of positive leaning and negative leaning elements on the sides.
Really transistors don't require understanding anything new past the large number of topics already covered here, they're just more compact about it. Positive leaning bit, negative leaning bit, wildcard in the middle, like a vacuum tube. Based on the concepts of pulling electrons around from chemistry, like a circuit in general. The control wire in the middle kinda works in just a pass-fail sort of way, like a relay. They're just really nice compared to the older alternatives because they don't make noise or have moving parts to wear down, you don't have to run enough current through them for metal to start glowing and the whole room to heat up, and you can make them small. Absurdly small. Like... need an electron microscope to see them small.
And of course you can also make an inverter super tiny like that, and a diode (while you're at it you can use special materials or phosphors to make them light emitting, go LEDs!) and resistors can get pretty damn small if you just use less of a more resistant material, capacitors I think have a limit to how tiny you can get, practically, but yeah, you now know enough of the basic fundamentals of how computers work to throw some logic gates together. We've covered how a relay, triode, or transistor function as an AND gate. An OR gate is super easy, you just stick diodes on two wires so you don't have messy backflow then connect them together and lead off there. If you can get your head around wiring up an inverter (AKA NOT), hey, stick one after an AND to get a NAND, or an OR to get a NOR. You can work out XOR and XNOR from there right? Just build 4 NANDs, pass input A into gates 1 and 2, B into 2 and 3, 2's output into 1 and 3, 1 and 3's output into 4 for a XOR, use NORs instead for a XNOR. That's all of them right? So now just build a ton of those and arrange them into a computer. It's all logic and math from there.
Oh right. It's... an absurd amount of logic and math, and I can only fit so many words in a blog post. So we'll have to go all...
CONTINUED IN PART 2!
Meanwhile, again, if you can spare some cash I'd really appreciate it.
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