#nothing will be able to fully convey just how much i adore this man | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thenovelartist · 3 years

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ABC Fluff Headcanons - Vyn Richter - Tears of Themis

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

If this was a fairytale, it would be Beauty and the Beast. Except he was simply the Beast and you were his magic rose he got to watch bloom. But instead of watching you under glass, he preferred it to be removed, even if it shredded your innocence in the process, but oh, watching you grow anyways, both blooming beautifully while growing fierce thorns to warn anyone before they touch, just to spite the adversity you were faced with was his truest pleasure. Your fortitude; that was what he truly admired about you.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

You’d think it’s your eyes, being the windows to the soul and all. But you’d be wrong; it’s your hands. Specifically, your tender touch. It’s gentle, warm, and safe. Being able to hold your hand feels intimate for him, and he actually enjoys when you tap his arm to get his attention, then let your hand linger when he gives it. It’s like a reward and a comfort all in one.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

He does enjoy a good cuddle, but hugging you from behind might be his favorite. Whether sitting together on the couch with you on his lap or spooning you in bed, he likes when he can nuzzle the side of your head or rest his chin on your shoulder.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

He will have planned this to a T because he’s not much for spontaneity. And it would involve a walk together, flowers, and he will either have made you a dessert or the two of you will make something together. It’s something quiet and intimate for you to enjoy time together, talking about anything and nothing while the date is riddled with affectionate touches and some kisses.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Good grief, this man’s emotions are… complicated. He’s very logical, but he’s not ignorant to his emotions. It doesn’t seem like it, but he frequently tempers them, only to bring them up again in full when he records his diary so that he’s able to manage them.

But you have ruined him. His carefully kept emotional balance has been thrown to the wind. You make him feel intensely and strongly, to the point it almost trumps his logic, which makes him uncomfortable. His diaries have been getting longer as his inner turmoil increases, and that’s all your fault. It’s something you notice, too, watching his even temperament waver more and more frequently around you as the emotion inside him wars with his rationality. You will have to give this man time. Time to open up and be honest with himself, and you, about his emotions. Be prepared to validate his emotions in his moments of weakness. It’s the only way he’ll get better about honestly expressing them to you.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

He wouldn’t be opposed to staying childless. He also wouldn’t be opposed to having a child, and you could probably talk him into two if the first goes well. Little humans would be fascinating studies, after all. (“Dear, do not psycho-analyze the children.”)

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

He does not care for trinkets. Nor does he care about giving you them. Gifts should be practical.

At least… that’s what he likes to think. His one exception to this is when he gives you something to wear. It’s his way of marking you and wearing it will spark a possessive streak in him.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He likes—no, needs to be either touching or holding your hand in quiet, private moments. And he wants to hold your hand when he’s jealous. Especially when he’s jealous. And you know when he is because he holds tight as though reminding you that you’re his while also sending passive-aggressive signals to the cause of his jealousy. When you’re just out walking, he will sometimes hold your hand, but he also likes when you loop your hands over his elbow and he can escort you like a proper gentleman. (It also causes you to pull yourself in close to him, so he actually quite enjoys when you do that.)

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Depends. Minor cuts or burns are treated with care and, occasionally, a kiss. Get into an accident, and he gets shockingly worried about you. However, if you end up hurt because of a reason to do with NXX, he’ll be sick with emotions. Guilt, fear, anger; all of them brew for a deadly concoction. He will not rest, even to the point of abusing his own body, until he finds the person who hurt you and sees to it they are paying dearly for their crime.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

He doesn’t always joke around, but when he does… this man is a wicked tease. Don’t expect to get off the hook easily. You better learn how to tease back, or he’ll use words and puzzles to twist you exactly where he wants you, which normally is you as a blushing, stuttering mess.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Sweet kisses off-the-cuff are quite nice, and so are the passionate ones, but the ones he likes best are the slow, lingering ones that take place hidden away in your own world. They convey so much with no words. There’s no frantic holding or clinginess. Rather, it feels like a moment of security, coming together and staying. He likes the comfort they provide him and the way they actually settle his heart.

L = Love Confession (how do they confess?)

He actually was super nervous to confess. He’ll have practiced and planned this confession before it happens. Which you never would have guessed because it was in such a smooth conversation during one of your outings that he admitted he held feelings of a romantic nature for you.

M = Marriage (What does the wedding look like?)

He wants it small, intimate, and preferably outdoors in a garden. He wants it nice but not overly fancy. He won’t fuss over the smaller details. Besides, he doesn’t realize it yet, but he will barely remember anything beyond how utterly stunning you look in your wedding dress, anyway.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

He hates being a failure, but if he’s everput in a position where he fails you, he will never forgive himself.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

This man has literal decks of cards of only one kind of card. You want a 52 card deck with all ace of hearts? He has that. Ten of spades? He has that too. Four of clubs? Yup. You don’t know why he has them, and he won’t tell you, but you think it’s literally just because he’s highly amused the way you wrack your brain over it.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

He’s classic. Love, Dear, Darling, Sweetheart. But he’s half-German (At least, that is my best speculation considering he was called “Vilhelm” and is canonly mixed-race), so “Liebling” is also an endearment he calls you, and my guess is he saves that one strictly for the sweetest, most tender moments you share.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Calm setting, electronics put away, and preferably some form of physical contact with you. This could be working together in the garden, side by side, or going out to walk around town together, but those are not his favorite. Baking with you is one of his top ones, though. Expect him to tap some sort of batter or frosting on your nose. His other favorite is lounging together on the couch, your back leaning against his chest, and just talking. Communication is important to any relationship, and he finds it a joy to communicate with you.

R = Romance (how do they show their love and affection?)

He’s the kind that shows his affection by giving you his time and attention. He’ll show it in the little touches exchanged back and forth and in the way he’s attentive to your well-being, particularly your mental well-being.

He’ll also show he loves you by playing mind games on you until you’re a blushy, stuttering mess. He’s usually forgiven with a kiss and “I love you”. You know you’re too soft on him, but whattcha gonna do?

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He is an onion you have to peel back layer by layer to get to open up to you. And like an onion, there’s likely going to be some tears shed as you do that. Time will determine how many secrets he’s willing to share with you, and it’s likely going to take years for him to fully open up to you. But keep at it. You will be rewarded with his innermost thoughts and feelings and the discovery of how insecure this seemingly unflappable man is.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

This man doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but falling hard and fast for you? That he did. One of his biggest hurdles he had to get over was logically evaluating his feelings and what he thought your feelings for him were as well as coming to terms with the way he’s been treated in past relationships (And not just romantic ones. He has an… interesting way of creating carefully crafted ties to people.) So it might take a little time for him to get comfortable enough to ask you out. And throughout the relationship, he’ll probably still be working with his past demons, so be prepared for that.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

He’ll comfort you the best way he can if you’re a sad upset. A mad upset, and he’ll probably give you a little space to work yourself out while offering his guidance. And upset at him? This is where a good chunk of your arguments happen, to be honest. So then you both have to calm down before coming together again and talking it out. But you always do and are stronger for it.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He’ll never admit it, but he loveswhen he can leave you impressed. It thrills him if he can show off a trick or his general intelligence and have you praise him for it. Occasionally, he’ll search for ways to impress you just because he wants that attention. But never will he admit it.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Well…he’s all okay with fighting as long as it’s not physical fighting. If you’re going to verbally spar with someone, he’s more than happy to let you go, and he takes pride in the fact you usually wipe the floor with your opponent. But the moment it’s going to turn into a physical altercation, he’s your shield. Part of him thinks that in times he is unfortunately not around, it might be good to have some self-defense under your belt, but at the same time, he’d rather you just flee instead of fight. Because he knows you well enough that if you had the ability, you’d probably knock someone’s lights out if they came at you.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

He’s a psychologist; he can already read you well. But on top of that, you are his favorite study, and he will catalogue everything he learns about you away to pull out for future reference. So while he already reads you well early on into your relationship, give it a few years and you have basically no secrets from this man.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

He will never forget the “surprise over romance” opinion on proposals you shared with him. So, determined to give you the best, he sets up an elaborate puzzle for you, getting all the important people in your life to get in on it. Together, the two of you will trapeze the town hunting down little clues—in places, that you only realize later, hold significance to both of you—before he’ll “conveniently” take his leave so you can finish out the last leg, which ultimately ends up leading you to his office, the place you first met. And there he is, sitting behind a house of cards sits made solely from the Ace of Hearts with a ring in the middle of the top tier which was made from two different cards: the king and queen. Only once you realize that and he revels in your joy and tears will he properly get on one knee and ask you to marry him.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

When everything is “right” in his world. His patients are doing well, he’s got no massive cases on his plate, nothing requires his immediate attention, and you are close by, doing well in your own right.

#tears of themis #vyn richter #fluff #tears of themis headcanons

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rainbow-shine · 3 years

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the odyssey of labels, pins and acceptance

@spnprideweek's day 1: coming out/flags

Here’s the thing.

Dean didn’t exactly come out to anyone. And that wasn’t his fault, not entirely at least. After all, he spent much of his life denying the existence of that part of himself, that by the time he could finally begin to accept that what he felt wasn’t as bad as his father always wanted him to believe, well, it no longer seemed necessary to go through an experience that was aimed mainly at teenagers.

Also, Dean didn't need a label to know that he was totally and utterly in love with a man. Dean had accepted his feelings for Cas, at least on a subconscious level, long before he even began to come to terms with his sexuality.

Besides, all the people he cared about knew to some degree that he wasn’t straight (being married to an angel in a man's body hardly left any room for doubt) and he finally felt comfortable in his own skin, without having to prove anything to anyone and without having a script to follow. He had finally gotten off the hamster wheel and something as insignificant as having to label himself wasn’t going to ruin his much-deserved happiness, thank you very much.

Or so he thought until he saw those stupid pins.

Cas had texted him in the middle of his shift at the workshop complaining that he needed more seeds from a flower that grew specifically during this time of year and Dean who since their relationship began after a very epic interdimensional rescue was simply unable to deny his angel anything, ended up making a quick stop at the store after work.

And that's when he saw them.

In any other circumstance Dean probably wouldn’t have noticed them, but considering that it was june and apparently this month was important for the LGTB community, next to the checkout there were a series of pins representing the flags of the different sexual orientations. Dean watched them for a second, wondering which flag would be the one for him before forcing himself out of stupor, paying for the seeds that Cas needed and practically running towards the store's exit.

What did it matter which flag would be the one for him? It's not like at some point he has even bothered to think of a label that he feels comfortable with. Furthermore, he was no longer a teenager discovering the world for the first time and taking pride in sharing with the world who he really was. His chance for that had already passed.

But had he really pass it? Dean remembers a vague conversation he overheard of Claire and Jody about how there wasn't an age to try to figure out who you are and that it was okay to even spend years trying.

Dean had always known that he was attracted to women, with their soft curves and charming smiles. But he also had to admit that on more than one occasion he had been curious about men with strong arms, a stubble brushing against his face and a deep voice.

(Though now that he thought about it, his current thoughts regarding his attraction to men may have been biased because of Cas.)

By the time Dean arrived at the small house he shared with Cas and occasionally with Jack (the fact that your son was god is more or less as if he was studying abroad and only came home for the holidays), the subject had completely ruined his good mood and he knew he had to do something about it before Cas looked at him with his bright blue eyes full of concern and started asking questions that Dean still had no answers for.

"Here are the seeds," was the first thing Dean said when he entered the house and found Cas sitting on the couch, fully focused on a book. With an involuntary smile curving his lips, Dean approached his husband and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead in greeting, his previous thoughts almost completely forgotten.

“Did you have a good day?” Cas asked, giving him a soft smile and tilting his head slightly in a clear invitation that Dean didn't even bother to resist, connecting their lips in a brief kiss.

"Yeah" Dean replied, kissing his husband a second time to erase the frown of concern that had taken over Cas' expression at his unconvincing response before heading up to the bathroom to take a shower and start making dinner.

Following his routine helped Dean ignore his little crisis in the store and by the time he was playfully hitting Cas with the spoon to stop his husband from stealing more pieces of cheese that were meant to melt above the pasta, the subject had been all but forgotten.

But see, Cas wasn’t only his husband, he was also his best friend and probably the person who knew him best in the whole wide world, so when they were both laying in bed, preparing to sleep until their respective alarms woke them up, Dean must have expected that the subject would resurface.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Cas asked, sounding so genuinely concerned that Dean couldn't help but lean in to capture his lips in a soft kiss. When the kiss ended, Dean spent a few seconds trying to organize his thoughts so that he could answer honestly.

"It's stupid," he decided to say, if he couldn't pretend he was okay, he would at least try to get them to ignore the subject.

"Nothing you can say is stupid," Cas murmured, placing a series of quick kisses on his face. Then, with an amused smile taking over his lips, he added: “Well, except when you say that western movies are actually good”.

“They are!”

"Whatever you say, dear".

Knowing that he probably wouldn't be able to look at Cas in the face as he made this stupid confession, Dean pulled his husband's body more firmly against him before hiding his face in the curve of Cas’ neck, breathing in the soothing scent of cotton and sunshine that was just Cas to calm down.

"I think…" Dean began, clearing his throat to force his voice to formulate the words. He had absolutely no idea why this was so difficult for him. “I think I’m bisexual".

Now, Dean had expected many reactions from Cas: from the typical "duh" as it was obvious that Dean had to be something other than straight to be in a relationship with a man, to an overwhelming and emotional reaction like the ones that he had seen on TV, or even an indifferent or confused reaction.

Dean hadn't expected this.

Cas held him tighter for a few seconds before slightly pulling away from him, cradling his face in his hands and gazing at him with the deepest adoration anyone could ever feel. Cas gave him a soft smile before leaning in to capture his lips in a tender kiss with which he seemed to want to convey all his love for him.

"Thank you," Cas said, surprising Dean even more. “Thank you for trusting me with this part of you”.

And that was it.

Dean felt like a weight that he didn’t even know he was carrying was lifted from his back and, although he would deny it to the grave, he felt his eyes water at the sudden wave of love he felt for the man in his arms.

The next time he was in the store, Dean didn't even hesitate before buying the pin of the pink, purple and blue striped flag.

#spnprideweek #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #supernatural #destiel fic #deancas fic #spn fic #my writing #rambleoncas #userstarry #this is my first fic and i don't really know what i'm doing asdfghhjl

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crybabyddl · 3 years

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I WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO REITERATE SOMETHING

Yes, let’s circle back to the beautiful performance of Edge of Great. More specifically the BODY LANGUAGE, particularly Julie and Luke’s, which I will be analyzing with gifs.

Exhibit A

Jealous Luke looks over at Julie and Reggie vibing

Julie is aware that she’s avoiding Luke, which she is doing so bc she realized her feelings for him thanks to Flynn earlier in the episode.

Since Julie has put the task of ignoring Luke upon herself even though she has no obligation to, she ends up failing her own mission. She sees Luke’s reaction to the lack of her attention.

She literally FREEZES. She’s emotionally worried to confront what she’s feeling and it’s beginning to manifest physically.

Exhibit B

It gets better y’all. After Luke finally has even a crumb of Julie’s attention, he beckons her over with his signature head tilt. This is important bc he did this with his longtime bandmate during the soundcheck of what would’ve been their biggest performance. If he feels comfortable enough using that body language with a girl he’s only known for, what, a week and a half(?) then you know this puppy boy’s got it BAD.

Julie is well aware that Luke is getting jealous. But in classic Julie fashion, she will try to tune it out instead of addressing it. Our wicked beauty doesn’t like confrontation and would rather just deny and avoid than potentially make things awkward, especially when she knows Luke would ask her about it at a later time.

The look on Julie’s face. Her eyes widen and the classic tight-lipped awkward smile is present. She’s literally saying “ok enough of that let’s get back to work doo doo doo” with her face. The way her body SWINGS back into performance mode as she faces the audience again. It may have been a split second, but when you’re deliberately trying to avoid looking into the dreamy (dead) eyes of someone you shouldn’t be crushing on, any amount of time feels too long. Plus, she knows Flynn is watching and doesn’t want her to lecture her (but she does anyway bc Flynn is observant and knows her bestie too well to let any action slip past her).

Exhibit C

Keep in mind; NONE OF THE GUYS KNOW WHY JULIE IS AVOIDING LUKE. Flynn, Alex, and Reggie have noticed the Juke chemistry, but it’s still too soon for them to get past the “we like each other but we’re too clueless to notice that we reciprocate” phase, so even though their respective besties know, they are still denying. Besides, Reg, Alex, and Flynn know better than to keep pestering if they want to keep their kneecaps. In reality they’re both smart enough to tell by this point, but for the sake of the plot and to make everything more adorably frustrating, Flynn has the collective brain cell under lock and key, leaving Juke to be like *dog tilting its head and making that “a-roo?” noise*

Anyway, Reggie notices Luke being snubbed after realizing that his extra dose of Julie time was slightly out of the ordinary. Luke is clearly concerned (look at his eyebrows and how his eyes travel from Reggie, to Julie, then to the audience to trying and get his mind off it and bring his focus back to the main goal; the performance.) If he can’t have the moment of connection with Julie that he so desperately craves, he’s gonna fill that void as best he can by connecting with the audience. >:’)

But Reggie’s trying to help Luke brush it off by conveying his reaction as ‘look at julie coming into her own! i told you she was a star! and you thought you were the lead singer? think again buddy this girl’s got you beat!’

But since Reggie isnt a master at hiding his feelings yet, especially around Luke, —who was able to get under his skin earlier (“girls, am i right?”)—Luke was easily able to see through that and interpreted what Reggie was saying as “look at julie go, she all in the zone. you’re literally making heart eyes at her get a grip you’re slacking lmao” (hence luke’s right eyebrow quirking at reggie like ‘dude seriously gimme a break u know i need attention like tinkerbell’) even though Reggie’s true message was a bit less harsh and more lovingly teasing, but it’s Luke, he sees things through his eyes and at his intensity, regardless of who it’s coming from. (This is one of the reasons why Luke comes off as selfish at times.)

Exhibit D

Poor Lukey boi can’t seem to catch a break today! Not only does Julie ignore him, then has a cute lil (platonic but it’s luke so it still makes him jealous >:P) moment, but now she has the AUDACITY to interact with Alex? The guy who was out learning Ghost 101 with this Willie guy instead of rehearsing with the band? What gives?! What’s he got that your moody ghost bf doesn’t? >:’(

He literally just watches, and even glances back in a way that, to me, screams ‘did i see that right? did i just see what i just saw with my own dreamy (but dead) eyes? say sike rn.’ \_(*_*)_/

Meanwhile, Alex pays no mind. I like to think that Alex is fully aware that Luke is an angry boy rn, but has learned to ignore it, especially this bc literally NOTHING happened. Either that or Alex has no clue and just truly thinks nothing of it and is having too much fun to think about Luke’s moody and childish behavior. Either way, Alex is just straight chilling and we love to see it *^_^*

Notice how Reggie is right there vibing with Julie and Alex. Luke feels a bit betrayed like ‘not you too! i know you were the first to turn on me but i figured since you’re such a golden retriever you’d be loyal and come back to my side!😠🥲’

Also; Luke approaches the rest of the group, wanting to be included in at least SOME of the vibing, but when Julie starts dancing and smiling with her buddy Alex, he backs up like

“you know what? nope. nevermind. not doin’ it.”

and the group’s like “i mean hey it’s your loss, but luke we want you to-”

“no, bc you chose to piss me off right in front of my face so no luke time for any of you! no cuddles, no hugs, no nothing! you made your bed, now lie in it and perish.”

Exhibit E & F: This is where it gets a bit interesting and theorized hehe...

Now we all know that this moment is just fucking ICONIC

WEOWH NEOW NEOW!!! WEOW NEHR NEHR NER-NER-NER NEHR NEHR NEOWHR!!! (wer nehr-nehr-ner-ner-nehr-nehr!!) WUEHNER-NEUHNER-NEHR-NEEOW-NEOWH! DLOOLOODDUH-DOODLAH-HOOBLUEH-NEOWHR-NEUEHR-NEEEEEEUOWRH!!!!

But hear me out– HEAR ME OUT!

What if... now don’t shoot the messenger who just so happens to also be the theorist... but what if...

WHAT IF!!! Luke didn’t!! plan this?!!!

Listen i know you’re probably thinking:

“Well uh Nicole, isn’t that kinda the whole point? It literally wasn’t planned until Charlie realized Madi was gonna be standing on the piano so he suggested the idea for the guitar solo to Kenny.”

And you’re right! But here’s the kicker:

What if Luke THE CHARACTER, just decided to do this as an “Alright that’s it! You wanna be like that? Well what if I just hit you with my super awesome radical totally cool wowza guitar skills & make a moment between us? Huh? What do you think about that? Hmm? HMMM???!!!”

He licks his lips & that to me read** like he was nervous (**read rhyming with bed just to clarify) so that means it could’ve been a spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment thing.

In the second gif, you can see that Julie’s head is tilted, as if she’s a bit confused, but she’s also delightfully surprised.

Julie is quick to smile and scrunch her nose at Luke, something she does often. It tells Luke his impulsive action garnered a positive response from his favorite girl. Julie also starts to shake her head, but doesn’t go through the motion in full, which means she’s still a bit nervous to let her guard down. This is probably because she doesn’t know what he’s thinking or what he will do next. The lopsided smile mixed with the suave, gliding steps towards her probably brought her back to her daydream lol.

Luke’s happy bc Julie’s no longer ignoring him. He smiles like a GOOBER bc this chump is simping HARD for our Julie. So cute! :’)

Exhibit G

And hear me when I offer this:

What if Luke poofed the guys out???

I know, I know. It’s a bold claim to make. But the boys are special, considering they are a threat to Caleb (3 gay-variant himbos vs. a gay magician that could’ve been on broadway but decided to make some sort of deal with a devil so he just entertains capitalists who most likely sold their souls to get into the hgc which i will probably elaborate on in a future theory so dont do that bc im gonna lmao idc we all have big brains) So it’s not too crazy to think that they could share some ghost powers.

We know Caleb transported the guys during You Got Nothing to Lose. And the guys have left a place at the exact same time on more than one occasion.

And you may be thinking “well what if the guys poofed out to give juke a moment alone together?” And to that I say...

Look at Reggie. He isn’t looking back at Alex like “dude let’s give them some space.”

The timing of him turning around, at least to me, makes me think Reggie was surprised by Luke approaching the piano. (But also he lowkey was waiting for Luke to prove him wrong by doing something to get Julie’s attention so Reggie isn’t mad. Neither is Alex but he doesn’t like being told how or WHEN to ghost) Luke doesn’t even give his bandmates a warning eyebrow quirk, a hand signal, nothing. Reggie turns to Alex like ‘dude what is he DOING?’ And before he can even really convey that, they go *POOF*

This man had a plan and he was gonna do it, so he did. Whether it’s the power of love, they stopped performing, or Reggie and Alex actually poofed out, the odds worked in Luke’s favor so he and Julie could have a super special moment, a moment special enough to make an actual living person (Nick) wonder if a “hologram” has a better chance at connecting with Julie than he does.

Again, regardless of who made them poof or how they poofed, they mf poofed so Luke’s a happy hamster. (Idk it just sounded fitting instead of happy camper lol wait what if someone had 3 pet hamsters and named them alex reggie and luke🥺 someone buy some hamsters and let me be their godmother or their aunt and i’ll love them from afar.) Anyway, Luke’s thriving, flourishing, his crops are going to grow in time for the harvest.

You can see Julie lean back as she turns to see Luke. It’s... almost as if... She. Wasn’t. Expecting. Him. To. Be. There..??

Honey badger Luke bc he DGAF <|:) Bitch, it’s Luke mf Patterson and he’s gonna,, GET! IN! YOUR! FAAAACE!!!

You CANNOT tell me he’s not doing the absolute MOST to try and seduce Miss Juliana Mariposa Rose Molina.

Yes I’m making a headcanon that Julie has TWO middle names and that one of them is the spanish word for butterfly and that the other is her mother’s name. Also yes, I believe (i believe that we’re just one dream away from who we’re– oh, that’s not what we’re doing? okay, sorry!) that Juliana is Julie’s full name.

In this house we love and respect Juliana Mariposa (Dahlia)** Rose Molina

**I’m just putting Dahlia there for fun bc I can. :) Whether I’d consider it a possible middle name of hers depends. Anyway I just thought it was a cute thing to add bc it goes along with the other middle names I gave her *^_^* Also, I feel like I made a post giving a bunch of the characters middle names lemme see if I can find it later)

Ok i’m done this took me basically all day from like 10am until 4:08. I obviously took breaks in between, but not long ones...😶

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bamfdaddio · 3 years

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X-Men Abridged: 1979

The X-Men, those globe-trotting mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 117 - 128, X-Man Annual 3) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne, Terry Austin, George Perez

See Jean? Dark Phoenix is nothing: this is how you turn evil properly. (X-Men 123)

So, these things have been getting longer. Whoops.

Last year, plotlines tended to bleed over in one another, but this year is a lot more arc-based, jumping from location to location. This is basically X-Men: World Tour. After hitting Antarctica and the Savage Land, our team of merry mutants visits Japan, Canada, Egypt, Scotland and even a theme park! (And really, both Murder World and Disney Land are run by capitalist scumbags who pretend to be in it for the art, the only difference being that Arcade purposefully murders his guests.)

But, before we check in with the X-Men, we return to the Institute. See, there’s a mutual misunderstanding that wouldn’t be out of place in a Shakespearian tragedy: Jean and Charles think Beast and Jean were the only survivors of their fight with Magneto in Antarctica, while the rest of the X-Men believe they were the only survivors and Jean and Beast perished. Since the X-Men have been trapped in the Savage Land, nobody has been able to clear up the confusion.

With their grief driving a wedge between her and Charles, Jean leaves the mansion to deal with her feelings on her own. (She’ll end up on Muir Isle.)

This is adorable! And, if the whole "Empress of the known Universe "-thing blows up in her face, she can always become a barista at Starbucks. (X-Men 117)

Lilandra successfully persuades Xavier to leave Earth as her consort, now that there is nothing left for him. Xavier agrees, but not before having a flashback to the time he met another telepath named Amahl Farouk in Egypt. (The Shadow King isn’t relevant just yet, but he’ll become an important villain later on.)

The X-Men, meanwhile, cross a treacherous ocean on a raft and are picked up by a Japanese vessel. The Japanese do not allow them to call anyone, for some reason. Sure. When they finally dock in Japan - six weeks later - some arms dealer named Magnum Moses has put Agarishima is on fire. Like, literally an inferno of such big proportions that even Storm can’t do much.

What follows is an uninspired, slipshod adventure. For some reason, Misty Knight and Colleen Wing are there too, because the president needed American detectives to investigate Magnum Moses (?) and for some reason, Misty doesn’t know Jean thinks Scott is dead, nor does she mention she just saw Jean to Scott. AUGH. It will take almost a year for Scott to figure out Jean isn’t dead and it becomes increasingly more contrived. I get that Claremont needed to isolate Jean to make her susceptible to, er, a certain someone’s machinations, but holy fuck do I have to suspend my disbelief for all of this bullshit.

The only good things about this little arc are:

Sunfire is still a dick.

Wolverine meets Mariko Yashida, a Japanese girl who actually reciprocates his feelings, as opposed to Jean. I’ve mostly been ignoring his budding feelings for Jean, because I stopped finding love triangles interesting since I was 16 and watched The OC, so I can only applaud this development. Mariko brings out Wolverine’s soft side and it’s very adorable. Later on, she moves to NYC for some reason and they start dating.

There is something sweetly disarming about calling Wolverine ‘beautiful’. (X-Men 120)

Anyway, Magnum is holding Japan hostage: either they give him what he wants - I think that might be money, sorry, wasn't paying attention - or he sinks Japan by activating the fault lines and you guys, I am sooo bored. Unsurprisingly, the X-Men stop him and for once, it’s Banshee who gets to play the most important part.

It’s a good thing I was terrible at science, otherwise I might have to point out that earthquakes and sonic waves don’t work that way! I simply get to be entertained by little rascal Colossus, plugging his ears like a toddler, and Sunfire’s gritty determination to not be impressed by some silly screaming Irishman. (X-Men 119)

Banshee pays a steep price for the victory, however: his vocal chords end up damaged, leaving him effectively powerless for the remainder of the year.

Oh, and here’s interesting fact about the above spread: you may or may not know that Chris Claremont and John Byrne were notoriously terrible at working together; this issue became a particular sore point between the creators. See, Byrne wanted to run the above panel without the sound of ‘Kra-Koom’, believing the art was strong enough to convey the destruction. He was livid when the finished product ended up containing a sound effect after all. I get your frustration, man, but if you want a writer who knows how to say less with more, you should maybe not work with Claremont?

(One of the reasons Claremont liked being so verbose and descriptive in his scripts was because otherwise, the artist would fill in the blanks using his own imagination. It’s no wonder these two found it hard to work together.)

On the flight to the US of A, Colleen Wing hits on Cyclops. It has to be the jawline, right? It can’t be the personality. All of a sudden, a snow storm causes their plane to be diverted to Calgary. The cause of this delay is Alpha Flight, who want their Wolverine back!

When even the narration is all “and they think they’re equal to any team of superheroes”, you know you’re a bunch of C-listers. Ugh. (X-Men 121)

Vindicator, previously known as Captain Alpha. He changed his name after accidentally shooting Moira that one time, which is exactly the kind of hollow gesture this dude would make. Ugh. If you think his new-found remorse won’t let him threaten an airplane chock full of innocent passengers, you would be wrong.

Shaman, doctor by day, magic user by night. Him and his magical little pouch are to blame for the snow storm.

Sasquatch, Canada’s answer to the Hulk. (Hilariously, the theory on why he turns furry instead of green is because he’s closer to the Aurora Borealis and this somehow messes with the radiation?)

Snowbird, a young Arctic goddess. Precious. To be cherished. Barely there for this adventure, sadly.

Northstar, an arrogant, hot-headed speedster, the twin brother of

Aurora, a lover, not a fighter. Together, they have light powers.

Vindicator and Shaman hog most of the spotlight, so Alpha Flight continues to be the ever-loving worst. They’re really wasting Northstar’s first appearance here. Here's why they suck:

Alpha Flight accidentally smashes a plane and keeps threatening to drag Wolverine back to the military against his will.

They push the cover price of the comic to a whoppin’ 40 cents.

Johnny fuckin’ Hudson even provokes Storm into an attack in the middle of a mall.

Shaman lets his blizzard get out of control.

After Storm fixes this mistake for him, Northstar has the gall to knock her out, “because she’s obviously the strongest”. Like, you’re not wrong, but damn, y’all a bunch of unpleasant superheroes.

To stop the fight, Wolverine decides to turn himself in. The X-Men leave, but while flying back, they already make plans to save their teammate. Wolverine saves them the trouble, casually sauntering into the cockpit while claiming that pulling a fast one on them was the easiest thing ever.

To be fair, I understand why you’d want to put a country between yourself and those bozos.

And finally, the X-Men are home! Xavier left them the equivalent of a Post-It saying “off to space”, so they try to pick up their life as best they can. None of them contact Jean’s parents, make an attempt to visit her grave or happen to see Beast on TV and by now, my suspension of disbelief is stretched so far that it could replace Reed Richards on the Fantastic Four.

Ororo, meanwhile, makes a little pilgrimage to Harlem, to the building she grew up in before she moved to Cairo.

I have failed you as a recapper, because I have absolutely no idea how to parse this scene. (X-Men 122)

I think I’d have to write a full-on thesis before I could properly analyse this, because so many things intersect here: poverty and racism, the boundaries of a superhero comic, confronting a (shared) past. I can’t even fully gauge if this is a clumsy, privileged attempt at tackling a serious topic or rather, a valuable moment in a comic that continually tries to expand on its themes of racism, exclusion and prejudice. One thing I will note is:

Luke Cage delivers the sort of trite conclusion that they’re superheroes: they’re better at fighting Galactus than at fixing the human condition. Point is, he kind of has to believe that, doesn’t he? It’s the sort of blind spot we all permit ourselves: you can’t fix everything. None of us have the power to fix the earth, or humanity, or the economy, or whatever: if you’re lucky, you can maybe tend to your own garden and leave it better than you found it, ensuring some happiness for yourself and a few loved ones.

Chasing bank robbers is easy. Superhero stuff. But here? Who do you attack here? These kids, or the system that failed them? You can’t really punch a needle exchange into being. Maybe that’s the appeal of superhero comics: there’s a clear villain, which is so sorely lacking in our day to day lifes. There, we are ruled by systems that are rooted in inequality, patriarchy, gender...

But Storm isn’t like Luke Cage, not in this regard. Before she became an X-Man, she used her powers to help people that came to her. And the whole point of the X-Men - other than beating up villains in colorful spandex - is that they want to change the system. They want to fix things, they want to fix a dark part of human nature, the part that hates which we fear.

Storm doesn’t really respond to Luke Cage here, but we know she’ll keep fighting the good fight, despite insurmountable odds. You can’t fix mankind, I don’t think, but you can sure as hell try.

*coughs*

Anyway!

Black Tom and Juggernaut hire Arcade… to kill the X-Men! I’m not sure why? I thought these two usually attempted to solve things on their own and Arcade’s fee is, like, a million bucks, so…? Maybe Black Tom asked his boyfriend what he wanted for his birthday and Juggernaut clenched his fists and said “I WANT THE X-MEN DEAD” and things escalated from there.

So, Arcade is a subtle villain. While Scott and Colleen Wing are on a date, this happens:

I can’t decide which is funnier: kidnapping people by sneaking up on them with A GARBAGE TRUCK or the fact that Spider-Man deduces this is Arcade’s doing by the noise alone. (X-Men 123)

Spider-Man doesn’t really figure into the rest of the plot, by the way.

Arcade successfully kidnaps all of the X-Men (and their dates: Colleen, Amanda and Betsy). Who is this Arcade? Well, he is an assassin who lets his victims run through a gauntlet of some sort, testing them with potentially deadly results in his Murderworld. He’s like a discount-combo of Saw and the Joker, except a lot less competent and a lot more spoiled rich kid. He barely kills anyone, ever, until maaaybe Avengers Arena, some forty years later.

Arcade veers heavily to the silly side of the silly-to-sinister scale, but he at least commits to a theme. Bonus is that trapping your heroes in a bunch of ricocheting balls fubars them ever-so beautifully. (X-Men 123)

This whole adventure is very silly and has very little bearing on the overarching plot, but it’s a fun enough romp: Cyclops nearly gets squashed by a hydraulic press, Nightcrawler gets attacked by bumper cars with chain saws attached to them, stuff like that. The absolute best part is when Colossus is hypnotized by an illusion of the KGB and becomes THE PROLETARIAN.

His insignia is Vladimir Lenin, y’all.

After various shenanigans, everybody is freed from their respective booby traps, everyone except Colossus. See, Piotr has been feeling down, torn between the exciting new loyalty to the X-Men and the more dutiful loyalty to his family and his motherland. (Also, he’s been feeling like a failure because he came up short a couple a times, aw.) Those feelings are exactly what Arcade has been abusing, but when Colossus comes in for the kill, Storm gives the most heartfelt plea:

I’m not crying, you’re crying. (X-Men 124)

Arcade’s all: “Eh, can’t win ‘em all” and yeets the X-Men out of Murderworld. The story has barely any other repercussions, except we stop seeing Colleen Wing and Betsy (Piotr’s date) after this. To be fair, being kidnapped by a super villain is a good reason to stop seeing someone.

Even more inconsequential is the adventure in the Annual. The only important thing to glean from there is that, when Thor is unavailable, Storm is a suitable substitution. Couldn’t agree more.

The quality of the comic has been steadily ascending throughout the year and ends on a supremely high note: Proteus. Because I think it might be Claremont’s best work so far, I’ll be dedicating a full post to that. (Man, that 10-picture-limit is a real bummer, huh?)

Ugliest Costume: I don’t care, I just want someone to cosplay the Proletarian.

Best new character: There’s actually a few options - Snowbird, Northstar, Proteus - but both Jean-Paul and Narya don’t really show their best sides this year, so I’m going in a different direction. My pick is the Shadow King. He is a very effective foil to Xavier, perhaps even moreso than Magneto. I know I rag on Xavier and his cavalier attitude to bending others to his will a lot, but imagine if you had his powers: wouldn’t you just make people do whatever you want? Just, like, all the time? The Shadow King is an effective reminder of what Charles would have been like, had he been immoral. (Well, more immoral.)

No matter how cool your psychic battle may be, this is what it looks like to the rest of the world. (X-Men 117)

Turns evil: Colossus, for the first time!

What to read: 117, 125 - 129.

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otonymous · 4 years

Text

The ABCs of Shaw (MLQC Headcanon - NSFW)

Dearest Nonny,

Thank you so very much for your lovely comments! 💕 And I'm SO GLAD you asked for Shaw’s dirty alphabet because god knows my thirsty ass can’t think of anything else 🤣 Take care of yourself as well and hope you enjoy the read!

Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language - reader discretion is advised. Specific spoilers noted in the appropriate section(s) below.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Surprisingly sweet and tender. Shaw is actually a bit of a teddy bear once he's decided to let you in his life

Sex is very passionate with him: often hard and fast, at times desperate and rough — the two of you will typically come down from the high of release with your foreheads pressed together, feverish bodies cooling as you both gasp for much needed air in between deep kisses, punctuated by the occasional chuckle at the fact that neither of you can keep your hands off one another

A marathon cuddler: his lithe yet strong arms will wrap tightly around you, as if the strength of his emotions could be conveyed through his embrace alone

Chatty Cathy: Shaw actually loves to talk after sex. Topics could range from something as mundane as what to eat for dinner to contemplating the meaning of life. He’s a great conversationalist (partly because he’s got such a wide range of interests).

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Shaw loves his cock. It’s huge — long and thick. He also loves the way you respond to it: immediately on your knees with your mouth wide open 🤣

He loves your eyes. He loves how expressive they are. He loves their honesty - the way you can never truly hide what you’re feeling. And when they crinkle at their corners when you smile? That’s the best thing in the world, as far as Shaw is concerned

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

Loves to pull out just enough to cum on the folds of your pussy. Will then proceed to use the head of his cock to slowly smear it along the length of your slit, still trembling in ecstasy

Sk8ter Boi is instantly hard again if you dip a finger in it and bring it to your mouth (tbh though, his refractory period is pretty much nonexistent)

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) - ***SPOILERS***

He’s in love with his brother’s girl

Loves the smell of your pussy on his hands

If he could, he would never wash them after fingering you

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Don’t judge a book by its cover: despite his youth, his sex game is strong

Not only is he experienced, he is also adventurous and up for experimentation (grad students need to conduct research after all 🤣)

F = Favourite Position

Pressed up against a wall: because 85.72% of the time, this man can’t wait until he’s in a bedroom

Neither will you, to be honest, especially if Shaw’s engaging in one of the following activities: playing bass guitar, cruising effortlessly on his skateboard, speaking oh-so-eloquently about his archeological research and studies, blinking, breathing, etc.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

Post-coital giggles and a few seductive chuckles leading up to intercourse, but Shaw is nothing but serious when he’s actually making love to you

Sex is raw and intense

At times, it actually feels spiritual: identities merge and unseen wounds are healed

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Your man is nicely trimmed and neatly groomed

And no, the carpet is not lavender as well 🤣

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Very intimate and romantic — Shaw is actually quite the sensitive soul. This is true even when the sex is rough and fast, such as when he’s banging you to within an inch of your life beneath an overpass or backstage before a set

There are rare moments (usually when he is particularly frustrated) when Shaw’s tough-as-nails façade slips and you get a glimpse of the melancholy that resides in his heart. You cannot help but sense that he’s been deeply hurt in the past. This won’t be something he’s readily willing to talk about at the beginning of your relationship, only when he feels like he can really trust you

Thus, there are times when sex feels like a form of emotional healing for this man. It is more than a means by which to sate his physical desires. The intensity of his love and feelings for you remind him of his humanity. The fact that you can love him reminds him that he, too, is deserving of love and affection

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He’s young, healthy and a grad student. Of course he jacks off 🤣

On average, a few times a week

The frequency increases during exams as a way to relieve stress (though this guy remains unflappable most of the time)

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Director’s Cut: Shaw LOVES, LOVES, LOVES to film your sex sessions

Even better: making love while watching clips of the two of you going at it

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Shaw isn’t really that picky tbh — any place is fair game when the urge hits

Still, he has to admit that your bedroom is pretty comfortable

That time he fucked you doggy style against a lectern at Loveland University was pretty hot too - he often thinks about that experience 🤣

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Shaw is most turned on when you show him that you love him — please give this guy plenty of care and affection

The swing of your hips when you walk also makes his cock twitch

He also loves watching you eat: he thinks you’re absolutely adorable when you react to tasty food with unadulterated joy

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Not into name-calling during sex (e.g. “slut,” “whore,” etc.), although he would do it if you so desired

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As much as Shaw loves to have your lips wrapped around his pole, he’s actually a bigger fan of eating you out

Sk8ter boi isn’t afraid to get down and dirty: he will bury his ENTIRE FACE between your legs when he goes deep sea diving, refusing to surface until you’ve come several times and made his face a shiny mess

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Capable of both, but tends towards fast and rough because y’all are typically boning all over the place

Guess that’s what happens when you can’t keep your hands off each other

You also don’t really have the leisure to be slow and sensual when there’s a line-up for the restroom at the Live House

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

(please see “Pace” above)

Quickies happen often and thankfully, are just as enjoyable as proper sex

Let’s be real: any sex with Shaw is great sex

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

As mentioned previously, this grad student is quite adventurous and game to experiment

Take your bag of kinks and feel free to have him root through it for something that might intrigue him — he’s down for whatever and would never judge you

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Can generally last pretty long during a given session

But his true talent lies in frequency — with a practically non-existent refractory period, Shaw is raring to go in no time at all

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) - ***SPOILERS***

this man charges them with his Evol

Boy’s got that Hitachi Magic Wand and isn’t afraid to use it (What? He’s got stiff shoulders from all that studying!)

Is definitely down to use electronic aids on the both of you

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Despite being snarky when you’re both fully clothed, Shaw is actually quite straightforward when it comes to activities of a more lascivious nature

He would like to be able to tease you, but most of the time he’s already got his pants down around his ankles by the time thoughts of sex run through his head

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

FUCKING LOUD

(Rapid, heavy breathing + ample dirty chatter) x (moans so sexy it should be illegal coming from a man’s mouth) = such a bad combo for discrete quickies but a turn-on nonetheless

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Shaw is also a b-boy. He knows his windmills get you hot.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

You have to see it to believe it. Shaw has actually been hiding an ANACONDA in those ripped jeans all this time!

This snake happens to be circumcised

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

HIGH AF. Nuff said

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Typically likes to cuddle and chat for a bit before falling asleep in that nice, post-coital haze

Please forgive him in advance: Shaw has been known to wake you up on occasion with the slide of that juicy boner between your legs LOL

Thanks for reading! Check out more of my work here!📚

#q&a #all request line #anonymous #thank you so much #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #mr love dream date #mlqc shaw #mlqc ling xiao #mlqc smut headcanon #my writing

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buckysrighthanddoll · 4 years

Text

Envy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader, Bucky Barnes x Savannah (OC)

Warnings: envy, jealousy, angsty implications, sexual implications (nothing actually described), fluff of course :)

A/N: So I’m fully aware that I haven’t been active on my blogs recently, and I’m sorry for that. Since the beginning of quarantine, I’ve been in a very rough family situation and had to move houses as a result. This one-shot will (hopefully) be the start of a series on the seven deadly sins; please give feedback and let me know what y’all think!

You weren’t new to the team. It was now 2018 and you were part of the original Avengers--you had fought in the Battle of New York and against Ultron. People have come and gone and died and retired; it was rarer to find someone who stayed and it was even rarer to attach to someone who was on the team.

Bucky Barnes was that rare, rare exception.

When he came along, your thoughts raced a million miles a minute. He was the Winter Soldier, after all, and you didn’t know how his recovery process was going to come along. You met him when he was in Romania--you fought him for a brief moment before he realized that you and Steve weren’t the bad guys, actually.

It was Steve’s idea to have you stay in Wakanda with him as sort of a caretaker. You had close contact with the team, even though you and Tony weren’t on the best of terms after the Accords, but you were also a hut away from Bucky. It was here where you fell for each other. Seeing him in the fragile yet strong state, the intimate moments as you both stared up at the stars, the kindred walks through the woods, it all made you fall.

Luck would have it that he fell twice as hard. You were caring and compassionate and, most importantly, patient and understanding. Growth was not linear, and you knew that. Being there for Bucky sometimes meant leaving him to his own business, but it also sometimes meant holding him while he sobs after having another nightmare.

You and Bucky had been an official couple for two years and five days. There were definite ups and downs to the relationship--Bucky was the most sincere and thoughtful man you had ever loved, but when the two of you fought, it was like hell on Earth. It could last a few hours or even a few weeks (three weeks, six days, and twenty-one hours was the current record). But, despite having a couple of massive fallouts and many, many bickers over safety during missions, you were a strong couple.

Never in the last two years had you been insecure, until she showed up. Her name was Savannah, and she was stunning in every sense of the word. Shiny chestnut hair, striking grey eyes, the perfect face, an even better body, the laugh that lit up the whole room--for fuck’s sake, even her powers were beautiful with her. She could shoot fire and water from her hands, but she did it in the way that made her seem elegant and graceful and--ugh.

Besides that, everybody on the team adored her. Steve had a crush on her, and you were pretty sure Sam did, too. Hell, even Nat seemed interested in her. The world seemed to revolve around her, and she knew that. And, lately, it seems like James Buchanan Barnes was wrapped around her perfect finger.

The insecurity started when she first moved in. Savannah was a late riser in comparison to most of the team, but that didn’t stop her from being so damn beautiful. During team breakfast, she came in twenty minutes after everybody else had sat down in a loose t-shirt and the shortest pair of shorts to ever exist on earth, and her hair was pulled back messily into a bun. Even without makeup, she was stunning.

She sat right next to Bucky with a plate half-full of food--part of her diet plan to stay in shape, you think she said (you looked at your now empty plate and couldn’t help but feel that perhaps you should also watch what you’re eating). She struck a conversation with him, and they held it for the entire meal. Rolling your eyes and making eye contact with Sam, you stood up and took your plate to the kitchen before getting down to the gym.

“New girl got your panties in a twist?” Sam asked a few minutes later. You tore your attention away from the punching bag and faced him, a scoff leaving your lips.

“Guess so.”

“You ain’t gotta be jealous,” He said, taking your hands. He takes a glove off of one of them. “Bucky loves you more than he loves his damn cereal in the morning.”

That earned a laugh from you.

You took off the other glove, and he motioned to the mat in a silent request to spar. You both worked out, and he took you down a couple of times before you were able to get the upper hand on him.

“That’s my baby,” Bucky sang as he entered the room. Your head turned toward him, looking like a Greek god in a tight shirt and workout shorts. Your eyes also caught Savannah walking in with him, but you tried your best to ignore her. “Wilson has nothing on you, sweetheart,” He adds as he comes to the edge of the mat.

“I took her down three times before you waltzed your metal ass in here,” Sam scoffed. You laughed and got up, going to the edge of the mat where your boyfriend was. He puts his hands on your hips and you reach for the back of his neck to pull him into a chaste kiss.

“You wanna go?” He asked you, nudging his head toward the mat. “I was gonna train Savannah, but I really want to lay some moves on you,” He smiles, wiggling his brows slightly.

“Oh my god, you are such a perv,” You joked, backing up to the center of the mat. “Come on, baby, show me what you got.”

It was a light spar, especially in comparison to how you normally fought each other. It was full of laughs and teasing moments, like right now. He had you pinned down, his hands wrapped around your wrists and his knees on either side of you. You glanced between his lips and eyes, and you caught him leaning in, but at the last second you flipped him over and pinned him down. He gave you a shocked look, but you just smiled up at him.

Of course, he didn’t let you win. He flipped you back over, but this time so that your face was planted against the mat. He holds your wrists behind your back and straddles your thighs, making you laugh. “Well, this reminds me of something,” You remarked.

“Dude, gross,” Sam said. Bucky got off of you and offered you a hand up, which you gladly took. “Okay, we gotta get this girl started. How about you fight (Y/N) first, Savannah?” Sam suggested. She nods her head and smiles cockily, stepping onto the mat. “No powers this time,” He tosses in.

The two of you go in circles for a moment, waiting to see who’s going to strike first. She looked confident, but you were a trained fighter in S.H.I.E.L.D., top of the recruits, and nearly beating out every single agent of experience. She had nothing on your physical fighting skills.

“You gonna fight me or are you just gonna stand there?” She taunted.

“Taunting gets you nowhere, dollface,” You smirked. You continued in another half-circle before she lunges. It was an easy dodge, just a simple side-step and kick, and she was thrown off balance. Her arms fly out to the sides to catch her balance, so you grabbed one and used it as leverage to flip her over you. Once she was on the ground, you straddled her and pretended to snap her neck, which indicated the end of the first spar. “Don’t ever let your emotions get the best of you in a fight,” You told her, getting up.

This continues for a couple more rounds, each time she gets her ass handed to her, but she does get better. Sam left by the time you both stopped fighting.

“Can’t I fight Bucky? Most of our opponents are male,” She asks, smirking slightly. It was abundantly obvious that she had a distaste for you, but it was completely reciprocated, so you weren’t bothered.

You and Bucky switch places, and she’s not doing well at all, even when Bucky goes easy on her. You could tell that she was faking being bad at fighting; she made it clear every time Bucky pinned her or straddled her and she gave him ‘the look’.

“Okay, let’s be done. I’ll get Steve to train you,” Bucky says, stepping off the mat. He gives you a side hug and a kiss to the cheek, eliciting a smile. “Do you wanna shower with me?” He asks. “We’re both pretty sweaty.”

You nod your head, choosing to ignore the death stare that Savannah was giving you.

_____

After that, you catch her trying to go after Bucky a little more. She started waking up at the same time as him and drinking coffee with him in the kitchen, she asked Tony to be placed on missions with him, she made it a point to not include you in conversations with him.

The worst part was that Bucky didn’t stop her.

It wasn’t like he was adoring the attention that he was getting from the both of you, but he most certainly wasn’t hating it, either. It almost felt like he was falling for her--you knew the signs, after all.

His laugh was a little more bubbly, his voice was a little deeper, and the body language conveyed that he was into the conversations they were having. It made your blood boil, and she knew it.

Eventually, you decided that you weren’t going to try to stop them from doing what they wanted. If he wanted to be with her, then so be it. All you had ever wanted for Bucky was for him to be happy--maybe you just didn’t make him happy anymore.

You compared yourself to her so much that any thought about you was straight negativity. You thought that you weren’t as pretty as her, and that your smile wasn’t as bright, and that she had a curvier body than yours, and that she was always so interesting and bubbly. You believed you were so boring by contrast--no powers, no unique features that you could see.

Just bland, boring, you.

“(Y/N), you good?” Steve asked, knocking on your door one day. Bucky was in the living room with Savannah and the rest of the team having a movie night, and she was sitting so unbearably close to him that you became nauseous and told him that you were just going to go to sleep.

Steve came into the room and sat on the bed beside you, making you look at him. “I’m fine,” You lied. You knew it was a lie. He knew it was a lie.

“It’s Savannah, isn’t it?” He asked.

You sighed and closed your laptop before looking back up at him. “Do you think he wants to be with her?” You asked sincerely.

“No,” Steve answers. “I think he’s happy to have a new friend, but he loves you more than he loves--”

“If you say ‘cereal in the morning’ I will chemically castrate you,” You threatened. He laughs and shakes his head.

“You know how he talks about his service days a lot? Any chance he gets, he’s talking about the good ‘ole days when he was actually charming and young?”

“Yeah, he talks about it for hours on end.”

“When he became the Winter Soldier, he didn’t feel human anymore. He thought with every fiber of his body that he was a monster and sub-human. He didn’t think he deserved to live because of all the things HYDRA made him do. But when you became official, and even to this day, he talks about you the way he talks about his service days--with pride and love. He told me that nobody can make him feel as loved and as human as you do,” Steve explains.

“But that doesn’t mean that other people can’t make him feel the same way. He’s an easy person to fall for--I’m not the only one who’s willing to sacrifice anything for him. What if she makes him happier than I do? Or what if he realizes that she’s so interesting and perfect and I’m just me.”

“Do you really think that?” Bucky’s voice asks. You snap your head up to the doorway in shock, where Bucky stood with a sweater. Steve awkwardly stands up and leaves the room, patting his best friend on the back on the way out. Bucky closes the door behind him and kneels next to you on the bed. “Sweetheart, do you really think that I’m into her?”

“It seems kind of obvious, Buck,” you sigh. “I get it. Everybody else sees that she’s beautiful and has an amazing personality. She’s amazing, and if you want her, go for her.”

“No,” Bucky says. His voice is full of emotion, stern and unwavering yet somehow soft. “(Y/N), I love you. You’re the one who has seen me at my best and my worst. You’re the one who makes me smile when I’m sad, who brings me back to reality when I’m having flashbacks and nightmares, the one who wipes my tears. You’re the one I want to marry someday and buy a house with and start a family with--whether that’s fur children, actual children, or just us, it doesn’t matter.”

“Bucky--”

“Steve was right. You make me feel human. Why are you jealous of her?”

You sighed heavily and tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill. “You smile so much with her, and you’re always together, and--”

“She makes me uncomfortable,” Bucky interjects. He gives a small laugh before he continues. “She’s clingy and too touchy and doesn’t know when I want to be left alone and in the moments I don’t want to be alone, she thinks that I want to be around her when I actually just want to be around you. She talks about nothing except herself and her family, and won’t let me talk about any issues I’m having. She tried to get me to kiss her tonight, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting that shit slide.”

“She did?” You asked. Bucky nodded in confirmation, which made you livid. You stood up and tried to get past him, but he wouldn’t let you. “I’m gonna beat her ass,” You sneered.

“No, baby, I’ve got it covered. I got up and grabbed your favorite sweater of mine from my room, threw it in the drier so it’s warm, and I fully intend on holding you and making sure you know that I love you. I already texted everybody in the team and asked them to never put her on missions with me or let her try to even talk to me.”

“You’re serious?”

“Dead serious, sweetheart,” Bucky smiles. He grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it up and over your head, handing you his sweater to put on. It’s warm and it smells like him and holy shit you’re so in love. “Nothing comes between me and my baby.”

“God, you are so cheesy,” You laughed.

Bucky stands up and gets into bed with you, pulling the comforter over the both of you and pulling you into him. “You don’t have to be jealous, (Y/N/N). It’s always gonna be us.”

“Do you think I’m boring?”

“Absolutely not,” He answers. “I think that you are a perfect combination of wild and tame. You know when to have fun and laugh, but you also know how to be serious when need be. And the way you can break a man’s neck between your thighs? That’s the hottest thing I have ever witnessed.”

You bust out laughing but hold him even closer. “I love you, baby. Can we get some sleep?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” He says. He asks FRIDAY to turn off the lights and lock the door, and then he kisses your forehead before you both drift off to sleep.

_____

The next day, you actually feel rested, even though you woke up at 0430 with him (a rare occurrence nowadays). He asks if you want to go on a run with him, to which you say okay. It takes all of ten minutes for the both of you to get dressed and brush your hair and teeth.

You go out to the kitchen to grab waters for you and Bucky. Usually, nobody else is up at this hour besides Steve (who was in his room getting ready for his run as well), but today, Savannah was there as well.

“You running with us, too?” She asked, turning around with a pep in her step. Her hair bounced in its ponytail, and she looks absolutely perfect in her leggings and sports bra. You felt like you weren’t nearly as pretty in your t-shirt and sweats.

“Yeah,” You replied, trying to keep a friendly voice as you searched for the bottles you, Steve, and Bucky typically use. You find them and fill them.

“He said last week that I could join him whenever I wanted. Hope that’s okay?” She says. It’s almost like she’s testing to make sure you weren’t the jealous girlfriend.

“I don’t care,” You shrugged. “Hell, I wish the entire team would go on morning jogs.”

“Listen, I don’t want to ruin your relationship--you guys are really cute together--but I think you should know that he kissed me last night.”

You shrugged your shoulders and leaned against the counter. “If you were really concerned about not ruining my relationship, you wouldn’t try to lay the moves on him as if you’re Michael Jackson. You’re aware he’s got a girl, but that doesn’t seem to matter to you,” You responded. Your voice was shockingly calm despite how envious of her you were.

“But--”

“But nothing,” You interjected. “Not only that, but I’m not concerned about you ruining our relationship. We trust each other and we’re open about our communication. You’re not a concern to us,” You added.

“Damn straight, sweetheart,” Bucky said as he and Steve walked into the kitchen. He plants a kiss on my cheek and grabs the water bottle from me, leaning next to me on the counter. “I told you last night that I wasn’t interested. Trying to get a rise out of (Y/N) won’t work because she’s one of the most rational and open people I know.”

Savannah got so upset that steam started rolling off of her, literally. Seemed there were some downsides to being enhanced, you assumed.

“Listen, we’re sure you’ll do great on missions,” Steve said, grabbing his bottle from you. “But I don’t appreciate people who try to get between Bucky and (Y/N). Keep that in mind,” He says sternly.

Envy is one of the seven deadly sins. It’s defined as a feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else’s possessions, quality, or luck. You most certainly felt that stupid feeling more than you cared to admit, but that was okay. Communication and being open could fix a vast majority of problems that arise. You were lucky, luckier than Savannah could ever be because you had a partner that was not afraid to talk to you about his problems; even better, he wasn’t scared to listen to your problems.

Bucky was rare, but the love you shared with him was one-of-a-kind.

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honeylikewords · 3 years

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jack daniels ship questions!

(Remember that ship questions prompt list I posted a while back? Here are all of those prompts, filled out for Jack and his wife! Hope you guys enjoy! Content Warnings: Not much to speak of, but some mentions of conceptual peril, Jack’s latent PSTD-linked behaviors, pregnancy. Word count is 6.8k. )

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

There are plenty of good options for this, but I prefer to imagine that Jack and his future wife met at work; the New York Statesman office is a functioning business, after all, and would therefore hold many people in its employ. Though Jack may be deployed to the field every now and then, he’s actually used surprisingly sparingly, and spends a great deal of his time actually working at the New York headquarters at a very real job as a chairman of the board for the company. His future wife worked on the same floor of the building in marketing, and the two of them crossed paths often, both in corporate meetings and just out and about in the halls of the building.

What was their first impression of each other?

Jack immediately was drawn to her after hearing her speak up during a meeting; she’d been sent in as one of the marketing presenters and had a wonderful breadth of ideas for the company, and he was charmed by her warm presence, intelligent voice, and sweet manner. His first impression was deeply positive, and he spent the rest of the meeting eyeing her curiously, his tanned cheeks flushed with pleasure at being able to watch her shift her files around and toy with her hair as she listened to other speakers and nodded along: she was very, very pretty in exactly his kind of way, and he liked that very, very much.

Her first impression of him was, contrastingly, rather fearful; she knew him only as “Mister Daniels”, and had only heard of him through memos and word of mouth around the office. When she was called in to speak to some of the board members, she was petrified with anxiety at the idea of slipping up in front of such important people and, in fact, barely noticed Jack the first time they shared a boardroom: she was so nervous about getting everything right and speaking clearly and conveying the correct information that he sort of blurred with all the other execs and suits. That said, she did notice him watching her throughout the meeting, and any time their eyes met (and he often smiled at her when they did), she became acutely aware of just how handsome he was; his features striking, his mannerisms coolly lackadaisical, his posture wide and relaxed, his deep brown eyes smoldering under a firm brow as he flashed her a sharp smile. No wonder his name flew around the office so much.

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

Nobody really knew, frankly: Jack has no family to speak of, and not that many friends, either. For someone so charming and socially adept, Jack is surprisingly something of a loner, and tells very few people anything about himself, much less about his feelings or attachments. Literally nobody knew that he was developing feelings for her, much less was intent on pursuing those feelings and manifesting them into a relationship, and he liked the privacy of that.

Likewise, she didn’t mention her growing infatuation with him to anyone, particularly because it would be so embarrassing: if word got out around the office that she was making eyes at a higher-up, it’d seem deeply unprofessional. Besides, she wasn’t really close friends with anyone at the office and they didn’t need to know, especially when she believed that her feelings couldn’t possibly be returned.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

Jack. He may not seem like the type, but when he falls in love, it hits him like a train: hard, fast, and unforgiving. It knocked him off his feet and flat onto his ass, and he didn’t mind a bit. The only hard part was keeping it a secret from her for so long!

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Big time. Jack felt it would be inappropriate to make a pass at her at all-- his gentlemanly nature insisted he was only to subtly imply his feelings for her, but otherwise treat her with ladylike gentleness and cordiality-- especially when he did hold some sway in the office, and that could be misinterpreted as, well, something unsavory. He tried hard to push the feelings down, to make them quieter and less intrusive, but he couldn’t help growing more and more attached to her, particularly when they ended up spending more and more time together as coworkers. Every new side of her that he saw made him fall more hopelessly off the steep cliff’s edge of adoration, and he barely had the willpower to hold on to propriety. Still, he did his damnedest!

Similarly, she resisted a great deal; how embarrassing would it be for her to try and flirt with a man so far out of her league, and so far up the ladder from her rung? It’d kill her, socially and in terms of her career, to make a faux pas like that, so she kept the feelings bottled up deep, deep inside herself. Still, whenever he smiled at her or went out of his way to be so intoxicatingly gentlemanly towards her, she found herself swooning; sure, maybe he treats all the girls like this. Maybe he’s just a well-raised man. But she still couldn’t resist the inkling that, maybe, just maybe, he was particularly fond of her; even if it was just a girlish fantasy, it made her heart race to imagine him harboring some secret affection for her, and, as she would later find out, that fantasy ended up being more than a little factual.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

Jack is a sucker for the idea of soulmates. He fully believes in commitments of the heart, body and soul, and would be utterly unsurprised to know that the woman he’d given his heart to so wholly was his soulmate. He may talk a lot of big game and posture all the live-long day about pleasing women and seeing “the whole doughnut”, but that’s just pretense: Jack’s a one-woman man, and he’s happy to pledge himself as her soulmate. More than happy.

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Jack, presumably, would have continued his work without ever knowing there was something missing, but would be distinctly less engaged in the office, sharply unhappy, and would have been more inclined towards keeping himself busy with field work. He would have closed off even further from attachments and affection and continued in his hollowed state, scraped clean of any remnants of the possibility for love, and would have, likely, kept running missions until his luck ran out. A dark ending to a cold story.

Her life would be entirely up to her, ready for any path she might be inclined to follow, though she would never know the joy of being treated with such respect and love as Jack treats her with, and she would never meet a man so gentlemanly, so adoring, nor so intensely loyal. Perhaps she would meet someone else she could love just as much as she would have loved Jack, but her life would be a painting lacking the warm hues of Jack’s mirth, love, and tenderness.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

I have a whole fic about that! But, in short, Jack did! I like to think of Jack waiting for ages and ages to find the “right” moment to tell her he had feelings for her and ask her out, and though he was petrified of making a mistake and losing her forever (and coming off like a creep), he managed to show her the sincerity of his attachment, and be granted the greatest gift of all: returned affections. She wanted to go out with him as much as he wanted to go out with her, and, from there, they melded together and the relationship progressed!

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

In that aforementioned fic, I suggest that their first date was sitting together on a long flight and watching movies together during a corporate excursion, and I like to stand by that! But if you mean first “date where they went somewhere”, after that flight, the two of them rented a car at the airport, went for breakfast at a local diner, and then took in the sights of the town before capping off the night with dinner and a movie. They ended up spending the whole day together, talking about everything and nothing, shy but ecstatic to be finally able to be open with their attraction to the other, and adored every moment of the date. It was a little awkward, at first, but they quickly matched one another’s patterns, especially towards the end of the night, cuddled up together at the theatre, resting their heads on each other and holding hands, exchanging little kisses on the hand back and forth.

It was like magic.

What was their first kiss like?

Nervous! Jack, normally so confident and slick, found himself trembling as he leaned in closer to her, hovering his lips over hers and feeling the quakes and tremors careening through every muscle of his body: all he wanted was to grab her by the face and kiss her as hard as he could and never let go, but he knew that would hardly be appropriate, so he just inched in, millimeter by millimeter, until she pressed up and closed the gap herself, sending him spiralling with fireworks behind his eyes and pure jolts of adrenaline coursing through his heart.

He ended up accidentally deepening the kiss by leaning in and groaning through his nose-- he’d held back for so long that his body wanted to take everything it could get before it lost its chance-- and felt her hands rise to cup the back of his head, locking him into her, which made his legs turn into jelly and his eyes roll back in their sockets in delight.

Suffice to say, they were out of breath when they parted, and not just from holding their breaths during the kiss.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

Well, she wasn’t Jack’s first kiss, nor his first girlfriend, but she is definitely Jack’s first and only love of his life. And his first and only wife! As for the other way ‘round, Jack is his wife’s first long-term boyfriend, then her first and only husband, and, of course, the one and only (and thus first) true love. Ain’t that sweet?

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

Jack comes in at 5’11’’, 6’1’’ in certain sets of cowboy boots, and often likes that his wife is just short enough for him to comfortably rest his chin on top of her head during hugs. As for their age difference, Jack wouldn’t be at ease with anything more than a ten year age gap, and even that’s pushing it, so his wife is somewhere in that range. While age may be “just a number” to some, development isn’t, so he isn’t looking for a woman who isn’t at the same point in life he is. He wants to always be in sync with his missus, so being close in age and close in life plans is important to him.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Jack has no real family; his parents both passed on a while back and he was an only child. He’s charming and affable with his wife’s family, but gets surprisingly nervous at family events and prefers to keep to himself: frankly, he’d rather spend all their holidays alone at home with the missus than be around her parents or siblings.

Who takes the lead in social situations?

Jack. His savoir-faire attitude, pleasing manners and general suave presence makes him a natural fit for taking the lead in just about every situation, but especially when out and about; his wife leans more on the quiet side, and he’s fine doing the talking towards others for the both of them. He’s fine ordering for her at restaurants, fine handling chit chat with drivers or dinner guests, fine charming businessmen or clients. He’s happy to be her voice when she doesn’t feel like talking, and happy to be the conversational springboard for her when she wants to make a foray into it.

Who gets jealous easier?

Jack has a shockingly vicious mean streak in him, and he can border on being possessive, at times. Sometimes it’s sweet how much he cares and how protective he is over her, but jealousy is a wholly different beast; when Jack feels like someone is flirting with his wife or has caught her eye, something hardhearted and controlling in him claws its way to the surface in him, and he looks at the object of her imagined affections with nothing but pure, boiling hatred.

For example, he can get more than a little insecure if he thinks she’s staring too closely at a particularly attractive actor during a movie-- does she think that man has a better body than him? Does she like that man because he’s younger? Prettier? Has a smaller nose and brighter eyes? Fewer wrinkles?-- and ends up hating the actor in every subsequent movie, even going so far as to refuse to watch films with that person in them.

He also can be more than a little rude to other men in public, but in a backhanded, “disguised” way, his cruelties and biting remarks hidden under a balmy layer of “Southern kindness”. Once, at a coffee shop, a barista gave his wife an extra baked good for being “the cutest customer he’d seen all day”, and Jack grabbed the pastry, smiled toothily at the man, and remarked that the barista had “good taste, though you wouldn’t guess it”, pointedly looked the man up and down as if judging his apparel, then took his wife’s hand and left the shop in a cloud of bitterness.

She’d really let Jack have it after that one.

Inversely, Jack’s wife can be more than a little guilty of jealousy, herself; after all, she knows her husband is a very, very attractive man, and that more than a few women find him alluring-- she’s heard how other women talk about him at the office-- and upon finding out that some of his field work can involve seducing women for information, she was in a near-constant jealousy tizzy for weeks. He’d had to promise her that he wouldn’t ever allow the seduction to be more than flirting, and even sworn to her that he would turn down operations where such a means of extraction was baked into the plan, but the feeling lingers, burning sour in her stomach whenever she knows he’s deployed. Is he out there, somewhere, flirting with some floozy, whispering things in that woman’s ear that he once whispered in hers?

It takes Jack eons to assure her that all his affection for her is earnest and passionate and that he never once used “the moves” on her that he might use for a mission, but every now and then, she still gets frustrated at the idea of him being coy with other women and he’ll have to take her aside and show her just how special their love is to him.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

Mister Daniels. What he whispers is a secret between himself and the missus, but rest assured knowing that he likes to spare her no detail when elaborating on what exactly it is he’s thinking about when it comes to her.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?

Jack wanted to say it first so, so bad: he had a whole moment planned out, where they’d be on a night drive, parked in his truck, watching the stars, and he’d have beautiful music in the background as they lay in the flatbed, and he’d turn to her and say those three words, sweeping her off her feet, but… she beat him to it.

She’d come down with a horrible cold, one that left her practically bedridden, and he’d come over in a panic, carrying bags of medicine and ointments and cool patches and Gatorades and soup from the best deli in town, and he’d spent the entire rest of the evening taking care of her. After propping her up on her pillows, putting on a calming movie, throwing out all her used tissues, getting her changed into clean, comfy pajamas, and feeding her warm soup and cool drinks, she was drifting off to sleep. Jack was getting ready to spend the night sleeping on the couch, and just before he left, she tugged him by the hand, looking up at him with cold medicine-calmed eyes. Dreamily, she stroked his cheek and hummed a soft “thank you, baby.”

“Anything for you,” he replied, kissing her knuckles. “Get some sleep, alright, Princess?”

“Mmm,” she cooed. “Goodnight, bunnykins. I love you.”

And with that, her medicine kicked in, and she dozed off, leaving Jack floating on air, hovering by her bed, staring with utter adoration at this sleeping angel who… loved him.

Loved him.

He barely slept that night, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he tried to fight off the silly, creeping smiles of a boy in love.

What are their primary love languages?

For Jack, he feels the most loved when he receives physical affection and is able to spend quality time with his wife. He has a deep attachment to her and feels that it’s best expressed when they’re able to touch each other; he adores being hugged by her, feeling her kiss his whole face, the way her hands playfully squeeze his butt when he wears those jeans she loves, the sensation of her fingers in his hair, tracing down his jawline and throat. Any time she’s touching him, he feels his life is complete and full, and when they’re apart, he feels fuzzy around the edges, as if only she can bring the whole picture into focus for him.

Add to that the enjoyment of quality time: Jack loves being able to spend days on end in only her company, doing anything she wants, talking back and forth and just absorbing the pleasure of being in her presence. He especially enjoys working on something together, like learning to dance together or building something (he, somehow, fell even more in love with her as they built a bookshelf together for their new, shared apartment), and, of course, traveling with her for trips and vacations. Once, they were snowed in together during a stay in Oregon, and he spent the whole three days of the snow-in just following her around the cabin like a lovesick puppy. They ended up sitting together on the couch in front of the fire, her perched on his lap, he with his arms fettered around her tummy, watching YouTube videos on resin pouring for, like, ten hours. He loved it.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

“Well, excuse me, miss, but there seems to be something wrong with my phone--”

“Jack, no, don’t--”

“Because I seem not to have your number in it!”

“Oh my god.”

“Did I wander on in to the Louvre? Because my, oh my, I am staring at a true work of art, little lady.”

“Jack, please--”

“Lemme go get my glasses on, beautiful; you’re too fine for me to see without ‘em.”

“I’m going to lock you out of the bedroom if you keep this up--”

“Now, sugar, come on, can you blame me? I’m in such terrible pain!”

“Mhm.”

“Because it sure hurt when I fell for you!”

“OH MY GOD.”

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

Every single day that Jack’s home, they’re cuddling in bed at the end of the day. He can’t sleep unless he’s got her in his arms, and he just can’t help but be a little handsy; he’s a lover of touch, after all! As for PDA, Jack tries to keep public affection “tasteful”, but also lets a little of his possessive nature pull through, at times: he likes to “mark” what’s his, and she’s his, all the way, so he likes to walk with his hand on the small of her back, sometimes cheekily stuck in the back pocket of her pants to get a feel of the nice curves back there, or periodically lean down to kiss her cheek and see if she’s interested in a more full-on kiss. At the office, they keep it limited to the occasional kiss on the cheek when there’s fewer people around, though that’s not to say Jack hasn’t teased the idea of going for something more intimate at work, before.

Who initiates kisses?

Both of them! They’re a very affectionate couple, but out of the two of them, Jack can be the most forward when it comes to making his intent to be kissed known. He has no shame about taking her chin in his hand and leaning in for a nice, deep kiss, or in pulling her by the waist away from whatever she was working, planting a wet one on her. Jack loves to feel her smile against his lips, and he’ll take just about any opportunity he can to snag a kiss from her. On her end, she loves to walk past him and press little kisses on his temples, cheeks, or the top of his head (provided he’s sitting down!), and will often try to walk off and continue what she was doing, only for Jack to grab her by the hips and tug her back for an even bigger kiss. He claims she “tempted him” into doing it; after all, a little kiss like that is more of an appetizer for the greater meal, is it not?

Who’s the big and little spoon?

They sometimes alternate, but more often than not like to go back to their favorite position, with Jack (and all his long limbs) as the big spoon, curled around his wife, resting his chin on his plumpness, pressed up against her. That said, he also adores feeling her softness surround him as she holds him from behind, all warm and cuddly. It makes him feel loved and cared for, and he melts for it.

What are their favorite things to do together?

Both of them enjoy exploring the town together: walking around the city, trying new restaurants, strolling in the park, window shopping, going to museums, anything! They like to walk and talk, discuss what they’re seeing, things going on in their lives, or what they’re hoping to do, next. They love trying new foods together, especially when it’s something unusual to them or something they’ve never heard of before. They also love to go to the movies together, and take great pleasure in reviewing films together or just canoodling in the theatre seats. Hell, sometimes Jack doesn’t even watch the movie: he spends all 90-some minutes with his face pressed into her neck, giving her hickies and letting his hands wander.

They also like to snuggle up at home and watch television, with Jack’s indulgences being cooking competition shows and dancing shows. He also has a secret indulgence: RuPaul’s Drag Race. He knows it’s trashy, he knows it’s staged, and he knows it can be, well, problematic at times, but damn, if he doesn’t get a kick out of how some of those queens fight! His wife will watch with him, even if it’s not her style, just because it’s cute to watch him gasp when one queen throws a drink at another or hear him complain that a queen is underdressed for the challenge. Watching Jack is ten times better than any entertainment the show itself could provide her!

Who’s better at comforting the other?

Both of them are actually pretty emotionally intuitive people, and Jack is deeply sentimental and emotionally intelligent, so it naturally follows that he can comfort her and show her all the examples of his love and protection when she feels low and fragile. Inversely, his wife knows him, and all his broken pieces, and is able to wrap her arms around him and tell him just what he needs to hear: the truth. That she loves him, that she’ll never give up on him, that she’s always by his side, and that they’ll weather any storm together. That he isn’t irreparable, unlovable, alone.

They both take great comfort in one another, and many couples envy their emotional honesty and how much they genuinely do care for and protect each other.

Who’s more protective?

Jack; he’s constantly anxious that something horrible is going to happen to his wife. He’s seen some pretty grisly business in his line of work, and participated in more than his fair share of that kind of business, and the ghosts of those deeds float around in his head and haunt his visions, making him fearful that something dreadful will befall her, as he’s seen befall so many others before her. He gets antsy and tends to hover around her, though he pretends he doesn’t. He also feels an obligation to protect her, as the “man of the house” and her husband; he’s old-fashioned and believes it’s his job to provide for and defend her, and while the sentiment is sweet, he can be a little overbearing at times, trying to coax her into letting him handle everything for her sometimes teetering on the edge of condescension.

She knows he’s only trying to be her gentleman, her knight in shining armor, her cowboy, but she has to assert that she’s a fully capable adult woman to him every now and then and show him that while she loves and appreciates his dedication to her safety, she’s going to be just fine, and they can work together on things, not leaving it all up to him to take care of. He’s still learning, and he can sometimes regress into old habits, but he’s made wonderful progress!

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

It’s an interesting mix of both! Jack loves to dole out praises and pet names and playful little flirts with his wife, but he’s also not afraid to get handsy with her to express his affection for her. He prefers to use both at the same time; holding her hips in his hands, swaying from side to side, murmuring teasing tones and warm whispers to her about how beautiful she is, how sweet and kind and lovely, and how she’s all his. And for as physical a man as he is, Jack feels truly loved when his wife tells him honest and earnest things she loves about him, or when she tells him he did a good job at something, and he can tell she’s sincere. It reminds him that he’s not just a body for her to love, but a soul, a person that she admires and takes comfort in. And that’s the most loving thing of all!

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

They both really love Dolly Parton, so “Islands In The Stream” comes on fairly often as one of their “dance around the living room and sing to each other” songs, as does “Why’d You Come In Here Lookin’ Like That” by Dolly! He also loves Johnny Cash, so “I’ll Remember You” is one of their favorites. Elvis’s “Love Me Tender” is one saved for special, quiet moments; it was played at their wedding, and holds a special spot in their hearts as a song to hold each other to, or murmur the lyrics to one another to show them how much they are adored.

Similarly, they also have “When I Fall In Love” by Nat King Cole as one of their special songs: after all, they had both promised that “When I give my heart it will be completely, or I'll never give my heart,” in their own ways, so dedicated to true and loyal love, and then they found one another, and their hearts were given in totality.

There are more, but these are just a few (particularly romantic) ones!

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Jack calls his wife “Darlin’,” obviously, but also loves to use terms like “Honeycomb,” “Miss,” “Sugar,” “Little Lady,” “Babydoll,” “Princess”: heck, what doesn’t he call her? He loves using pet names for her!

She calls him “Mister Daniels,” “Cowboy,” “Baby,” and “My Big Man”, among other things.

Who remembers the little things?

Both of them! Each of them loves to keep track of special, unique things about their partner; she remembers that Jack hates acrid coffee and likes his with two sugars and two creams, or that he always puts his socks on left to right, or that he won’t leave the house until his tie is the perfect length, or that he always checks his mustache in every reflective surface he passes. He remembers that she brushes her teeth anytime she eats something that leaves the “fuzzy sweater feeling” and that she loves when he gently fingers combs her hair so much that her eyes close and she makes the same little pleased hum every time or that she only can sleep if there’s at least some cool air so she can bundle up and get snuggly.

The little things are what let you know you’re in love, you know?

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes?

Jack, ever the picture of the classic gentleman, absolutely takes the initiative on proposing. He makes a whole big-to do about it, planning everything down to the exact detail and sparing no expense in trying to procure the perfect moment for him to pop that perpetual question. He actually quite enjoys the planning and that enjoyment does carry over to when they’re planning the wedding itself!

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

The wedding itself, despite Jack’s indulgences, was actually rather small: Jack doesn’t have that many people in his life he’d want to invite, so his side of the affair was rather empty, and so, in keeping, his wife decided to limit the event to just very close friends and immediate family. Both were very happy about that, being rather private people, and enjoyed being able to have an intimate wedding with a greater attention to atmosphere and personal touches than would be afforded for a much bigger wedding.

Jack had a few firm policies about the “tone” of the affair: he didn’t want a bunch of loud music, he didn’t want people getting drunk, and he wanted it to be fun but not “trashy”, a loose term he threw around at anything he didn’t really like or considered “gauche” when shopping around for wedding ideas. He also wanted to have at least part of the event take place outdoors, so the wedding ceremony was held indoors while the reception was outside, under the stars on an autumn night.

He hired a full, live band to play the affair, and had a fair amount of fun dancing with his wife all through the night, from the traditional slow dance to up-tempo square dancing to just uncoordinated wiggling as they laughed their way into their brand-new marriage. Jack loves to dance, and having her in his arms, swaying to whatever beat life threw at them, made his heart soar.

I could go into more detail about themes and color palettes and the ceremony itself, but that’s for another day!

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

Jack wants tons of kids. He wants as many kids as nature sees fit to give them, and has absolutely no shame in expressing that desire to his wife. Thankfully, she’s on the same page: while she may not want to be pregnant every bout of nine months or so, she also wants kids and is happy to raise as many as come along over the course of her and Jack’s lifetimes; a big family does not daunt either of them. As such, their marriage became a very fruitful one as time went on, and they soon welcomed their first child, a baby girl.

Jack was absolutely, unbelievably smitten with the little creature the moment he found out his wife was pregnant, and became even more resolutely devoted to her when she was placed, wriggling and crying and all red and small, in his arms, mere moments after her birth. He’d stared at her, half-sobbing, half-laughing, as his wife gripped his hand, and both of them fell utterly, hopelessly in love with that tiny little girl as she took her first breaths.

The little family only continued to grow after that; a few years later, when their little lady had grown into a chubby, grinning toddler, she met her baby brother, a squirmy bundle of miniature limbs and his Daddy’s dark curls, who Jack swore was born knowing how to smile, giggling as soon as he felt his Daddy take him into a hug. Three years after that, another tiny Daniels came into the world, a bright-eyed and curious baby boy who seemed to only snuffle, not cry, when he was placed in his Mama’s arms that very first day, peering around with a wondering gaze that made Jack’s heart break with utmost adoration.

(There may definitely come more little babies, but I think three is a good number to start with describing!)

They’re each amazingly different, and Jack loves them all as unique souls: his daughter, Lucinda (shortened to Lucy), is playful like her father, and loves to follow him around the house and ask him what he’s up to, sometimes running off with his hat just to win his attention away from desk work or some other ‘unimportant’ task. She adores her Mama, and hangs off her mother’s every word, copying her mannerisms and asks near-constantly to help with cooking or with playing with her brothers, who she loves to play “pranks” on (translation: she raspberries their tummies, then shoots off to another room, laughing hysterically).

Their first son, Joseph, is a rowdy little whirlwind, and learned to walk quickly just to keep up with his older sister, giving chase wherever she went. He loves to toddle around the house, squeaking and cheeping, showing his Mama and Daddy what he’s doing (often putting something in his mouth that he absolutely should not be putting in there). He loves being carried by Daddy and will crawl into Jack’s lap on the couch, sitting on his knees and making faces until Daddy laughs. He absolutely loves to make people laugh, and will play games like peek-a-boo for hours, gleefully shrieking and adoring when he hears his parents laugh at his silly noises.

The littlest one, Johnnie, is the quietest of the children, and enjoys cuddling up to his Mama and Daddy and taking naps on their chest. When not sleeping, he likes to sit and watch what others are doing, and seems the happiest when resting in his carrier on the table, watching his Mama hard at work on a project, and especially enjoys watching her partake in crafts like knitting, sewing, or cooking. Johnnie also enjoys watching animal programs on TV: he cries if they play anything loud and bright for him, and calms immediately when Animal Planet or National Geographic is on. He’s barely old enough to hold his head up, but will stretch in his bassinet to see his favorite animal, horses, on TV, or if Daddy is reading a book and doing horsie noises. He loves to wiggle his miniature arms around in circles, delighted by the pony sounds, and Jack can’t help but grin at how adorable his little man is.

Do they have any pets?

Yep! Though they save getting pets until the kids are older, the family gets a pair of dogs, both adoptees from a local shelter. The bigger dog is a mutt between a lab and German Shepherd named “Messy” by Lucy, and the smaller dog is a beagle-mix named “Buster”. They’re both deeply well-loved dogs, and though Jack may have pretended to not want dogs, he dotes on the two of them relentlessly.

Who’s the stricter parent?

Jack can be paranoid, at times, about anything bad befalling his kids, and he while he tends to be relaxed and fairly easy-going with the children, he can sometimes have bouts of militaristic tenseness and scold them for going somewhere without telling him, playing in the street, talking to strangers, et cetera. He gets so nervous that sometimes it bubbles up in controlling mannerisms, trying to keep his children as safe as possible, but going about it the wrong way. That said, he is a loving father, willing to apologize if he steps out of line, and he never yells at his children.

Who worries the most?

As mentioned before, Jack can teeter into paranoia that something will hurt his babies, but his wife gives him a run for his money, at times, especially because it can be harder for mothers to be separated from their little ones at first. The truth is, all loving parents worry about their kids, and always will, and both Jack and the Missus worry about their wee ones out in the big world.

Who kills the bugs in the house?

Joseph keeps trying to eat them! But it’s usually Jack, if only by default as the taller partner with the long, willowy limbs that can actually reach the corner of the wall where the damn spider is hiding.

How do they celebrate holidays?

As best they can! Mostly, they like to keep it to just the family, and don’t do any huge parties, unless it’s a birthday, especially for one of the kids: Jack tends to indulge the kids, particularly on their birthdays, so while the parties aren’t massive, they often have lots of kids and their parents come over for a big playdate and run around the house, lots of cake and balloons and party hats and presents wrapped in puppydog paper.

As for holidays like Christmas, Hanukkah, et cetera, they like to stay home and do all the decorating themselves, and often involve the kids in the decorating process. A cozy, safe at home feeling fills all their hearts and Jack loves seeing his family all gathered together, making little ornaments or snacks together, cuddled up watching movies or playing with toys, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Ol’ Missus Daniels has the greatest track record in the world of being able to coax her early morning-riser husband back into bed, back into her arms, and back to sleep. He can’t resist her sleepy eyes and beckoning smile, the way she opens her arms and pouts at him, the rusty creak of her tired little voice cooing “c’mere, you big lug, they can wait”. He has yet to convince himself to leave her side after a ploy like that.

Who’s the better cook?

Jack is flat out terrible. He’s great at a lot of things, but cooking is not one of them. He really is doing his best to improve his cooking, but he gets frustrated with how long it takes to make a good meal; he was so used to getting exactly what he wanted at fine dining restaurants and having things delivered to his apartment as a bachelor that he barely touched any of the dishes in his kitchen, and kept his fridge almost bare. Now that he’s a family man, he really does try-- he practices alongside his wife, watches the Food Network, stuff like that-- but he ends up burning things and getting pouty, and his wife will have to take over and show him how it’s done, which he appreciates. She was always the better cook out of the two of them, anyway.

Who likes to dance?

Very often, Jack’ll click on the radio and take his wife’s waist in his hands, giving it a loving squeeze as he twirls her around the kitchen, out through the living room, sometimes at the foot of their bed, his cheek pressed to hers, grinning from ear to ear. Sometimes, the babies will want to join in; Lucy will stand on her Daddy’s feet and hold his hands, swaying all around and screaming with delight, or Johnnie will be held to Mama’s chest and bop around with her to the tune of one of his favorite songs. Joseph, much like his father, likes to boogie on down and shimmy his diapered tush around, giggling as his Daddy applauds him. They all love to dance together!

Thank you for reading! Feel free to send in any requests for similar questions!

#jack daniels #agent whiskey #kingsman #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #long post #original #BEHOLD. content.#and i named all the kids after relatives of the Original Jack Daniels (whiskey guy) and after Johnnie Walker (another whiskey company) >;3c

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thatonesadending · 3 years

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Molly gets to finally see his room in Caleb's tower, and it was more than he could handle - Chapter 4

He didn’t know what he had been expecting when he first crossed through the Tower’s door, but it definitely wasn't this. It had nearly knocked him down when he entered that first floor, and then he looked up and felt as though he couldn’t breathe. Eventually, he found his words again and asked Caleb where they were and what this place was, even though he knew he couldn't really take in any more information. As it was, he was having issues keeping up with just the Nien’s physical changes, let alone their achievements. The ones they earned without him.

When Caleb had taken him to the level that was floor to ceiling filled with books, and massive creation of light and color that was obviously a representation of his own artwork, he simply lost all ability to process at all. He couldn’t take in the mixing of both of them. Of Caleb and Molly. Here in this man’s home. He stared for a long time at the glass, and how it made the books around it dance with life. Thankfully Caduceus, whom Molly was pretty sure was just a saint cover in velvety fur, came and saved him.

“They found me after you were gone, but they never forgot you. They all mourned in their own ways, but this -” The firbog pointed his staff at the stained glass,”- this was Caleb’s way of honoring you and the way you impacted all of them. Showing the others that he shared their pain, and joy. It’s really what this whole place is about, Caleb showing through magic what he does not convey through words, how much he loves his friends. I think …” Caduceus paused, considering his words, “I think that you never really stopped being with them, in a way. Something about you changed them all. I think you will find that out on your own, in time.”

Molly was thankful but overwhelmed by the man’s wisdom. He continued to ask questions of him, not really taking in most of the answers, but feeling cared for nonetheless.

It wasn’t until Caleb had said he had a room for Molly, and for some reason that had bothered Beau, that he began to feel uneasy again. Not unwanted or unwelcomed, just that he didn't belong. He still took the wizard’s hand, and they floated to nearly the top.

“Ja, so, I must confess I should have thought ahead and moved your room with the others. I promise the next time I cast it, I will.” Good to know that Caleb was still self-deprecating.

“Darling, I had to float here like a feather for what, 5 extra seconds? I think I will survive. ” Molly tried to reassure him, but Caleb just wrinkled his nose a bit before responding.

“Nien. It’s not that. Ah, well - this is your door.” He pointed to one that looked the same as the other 8 doors. “It will only open for now for me. But I promise that if you have one of the cats come to get me, I will open it immediately. That is if you choose to stay, that is up to you.” There were too many questions that statement produced for Molly. Why would it only open for Caleb? Cats? Why would he refuse a bed and clean clothes? He just wanted to lay down, try to sleep, but also try and not think about the fact that apparently, he had been dead not just an hour ago, and Lucien had been trying to kill his friends using his face. He was too over his head though to ask any of his questions and just nodded his head in acceptance.

Nothing could have prepared him for this next door. Molly knew he had almost immediately frozen on entering, and he could hear Caleb asking him if he was ok. But he couldn’t move or speak, just …. stare.

He had just walked into a beautiful circus tent, the fabric striped with cream and sun-faded red. The top of which was impossibly tall, and had a trapeze of sorts, like that he used to adore practicing on while Yasha spotted him. Underneath was a ridiculously large bed, almost as though it was a mat to catch him if he fell from the swing above, but it was big enough to hold all of the Mighty Nien. But it was the swirl of colors that really struck him.

The bed was not made up neatly, but rather a pleasantly lived-in pile of pillows of every texture and shape he could have thought of, as well as different blankets of different designs that all seem to somehow compliment and contrast each other perfectly. It looked like the perfect embodiment of cozy and sensual.

There was also an overly ornate armoire that was the boldest shade of red Molly had ever seen, matched only by its accompanying vanity with more little drawers than Molly could count in common, and a large dresser that held the promise of holding anything he could think of putting in it. However, despite all of these wonderful things, none if it is what really caught Molly’s attention

He hadn't even realized that he had drifted to the middle of the room, pulled there by magic or aw, he didn't know nor care. He was gazing at the far side of the room, where 2/3s of the tent stopped and were interrupted by the far most beautiful part of the tower he had yet to see.

“Ja, yes let me open it for you.” Caleb said from behind him, but Molly wasn't sure he wanted Caleb to touch the artwork he was looking at. “Give me just a moment darling.”He whispered, Caleb stopped and patiently stood by his side once more, and waited. IIt matched in style to the same stained glad he had seen down in the library, only this window stretched and arched to meet the top of the canvas of the tent, and seemed to glow with the almost holy light that backlit it.

The glass was mostly that of a night sky, unrealistically peppered with close together stars. However, where the stars would have gathered to be galalexies, Molly could see images. Depictions of memories.

He stepped closer to get a better look and was shocked at the emotion that shards of colors glass could remind him of. Some of the art was scenes of him and moments with the Mighty Nien. Him teaching Jester how to read cards. His swords out in front of him protecting Nott. Him pushing Caleb incredibly close to a wall in a sewer. A bowl of fruit covering his most intimate parts while a crown teetered on his head. Beau flipping him off in one of their regular exchanges …. And Molly kissing Caleb on the forehead.

That last depiction wasn't quite how he remembered it. Caleb had a far off, terrified look about him, which was accurate. But he did not remember placing a hand to the redded cheek he had slapped while kissing Caleb almost reverently on the soft skin of his temple. Of course, he remembers the strike to stir him, and the kiss to bring him back, but the closeness ... It was most certainly from Caleb’s perspective, but the intimacy was more than Molly thought it had meant at the time.

However still, scattered amongst all the scenes, were ones that he had never shared with the wizard. Scenes from his life at the circus. Scenes depicting the first time he balanced on a rope. His first Ale. His first piercing. Him and Yasha lounging in a field of flowers, swapping stories of whatever had transpired the night before. She was the constant in all of these images. These were the stories she must have shared with Caleb to make these memories dance with the light of the glass. She didn't share the dark ones of finding him alone, covered in dirt, unable to speak. All of the horrible times where he struggled to find a place in the world when he didn't understand how to eat, or bathe, let alone carry a conversation. She chose to remember him as vibrant, fully appreciating life, and he was filled with so much love that he could no longer see the glass in front of him. His eyes too filled with tears.

“Ok.” That was all he managed to say, after several long moments of looking at his life depicted in artistry through the haze of tears that he pushed back before they could fall.

Caleb moved slowly and started to part the panes of glass with handles Molly hadn’t seen before. The incredible work bent and moved much like an accordion, Caleb pushing each side to meet the tent, until Molly was covered in Moonlight. She glowed impossibly large in the night sky, and the light kissed every inch of the magical space.

“This was my best attempt at recreating her, of course, it isn't really the Moonweaver, but I had hoped - thought …” Caleb drifted off in his excuses for why this wasn't the most incredible sight Molly could be beholding. “It is just that, ah - I do not know if you are able to pray here, but it is what I - well, imagined.” Caleb festered to the floor in front of the window. Molly finally looked at the ground, he hadn’t given it a second thought, as everything up and around him was already so much to take in. But stretched from wear the glass doors parted, to where his bed was, there were incredibly soft overlapping carpets of differing shades of lavender, cream and lilac. They all looked divine to stretch out on, to bask in the moonlight, and even to kneel and pray to the Moonweaver.

Molly didn't know what came first, the hot fall of tears, or him wrapping his arms around his wizard.

“Thank you.” He couldn't manage much more than that, as much as he wished he could. Somehow, Caleb had found a way to capture not only everything he loved about his life, but why he loved it, and make it into a space just for him right as he needed it the most. Right as he was feeling out of sorts and like he didn't belong with the living anymore.

“Of course Schatz, Ich wünschte nur, du hättest früher hier sein können.” Molly didn't care that he couldn't understand what Caleb said, he was too busy sobbing into the man’s neck, clinging to the second chance of life he had been given.

#widowmauk #mollymauk #mollymauk tealeaf #mollymauk is fine #caleb widogast #cr fanfic

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sabraeal · 3 years

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All That Remains, Chapter 7: The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Conjure [Part 4]

[Read on AO3]

Written in honor of @claudeng80′s birthday! I’m only a week and change late this time, but everyone knows what they’re getting into when they request this fic for gifts-- aka, me dithering for weeks on if a chapter needs to be cut and where it inevitably needs to happen. But here is an almost 5K labor of love...and a little bit of hope... :3c

It would easy to speak of good and evil, would it not? To condemn a sorceress for her conjuring, to pity a girl and her deception. That is the way such tales are crafted: for simplicity, moral lines drawn in the sand.

But life does not fit so easily into the pages made to contain it. A line of prose may distill it to its essence, but a word spoken, an act done by a living creature-- these contain multitudes.

“Well.” Lady Mihoko fixes a shrewd glance over the rim of her teacup, pinning Shirayuki to her chair. Bombazine may creak with her every breath, but when Mihoko sets her demitasse upon its saucer, it is silent. “You are much improved.

The words alone would make a compliment, but with the way her ladyship threads them through her teeth, it is an accusation. Her eyes narrow even now, a proctor determined to catch her pupil filching answers from across the aisle.

Still, it’s the kindest words Mihoko has ever managed to spare, and Shirayuki seizes them with both hands. “Thank you, Lady Mihoko.”

All her ladyship’s fine graces do not restrain her from a humorless grunt. “Do not think it so fine a feat. You could hardly have gotten much worse.” With another contemplative sip, she adds, “But your progress is at least...heartening. You might not be entirely hopeless.”

Polite, tea-appropriate smile firmly in place, Shirayuki casts her eyes down at her plate. How fortunate she is to be able to experience such a fine example of being damned by faint praise.

He mouth does not twitch; by now, she knows better than to allow any of her facial muscles free reign in the presence of the lady-- but it does waver. It was not her own voice lilting those words.

A toe nudges her ankle; the consort’s countenance is carefully composed of bland inquiry across from her.

“You are too kind,” Shirayuki manages, smile polished back to its original brilliance.

“I am.” She settles back in her chair, spine straight as a rod, conveying that her enjoyment of the meal now resides firmly in the past. “You are lucky indeed that Her Majesty deigned to take a girl like you under her wing. How fitting it is that my best student is responsible for righting my worst.”

“It is only because I had such a good tutor that I could even attempt to teach.” The consort sets her own cup onto its saucer, mouth rounded in a pleasant curve. Shirayuki’s never mastered the art of it, to smile to brightly with so little teeth or crinkling around the eyes, but on Haki the effect seems natural, right. “But I must say that Lady Shirayuki is a pleasure as a student. A quick mind and a dedicated learner.”

“What she lack in aptitude she certainly makes up with vigor,” Mihoko allows grudgingly. “In my day, that would not be near enough to make a lady.”

It would be easy to condemn the sorceress, would it not? To raise the roses from their bed and cast the bright light of truth upon them, to drag her into the village square and expose her as a deceiver, a most vile villainess to lead this stray girl astray. We would stretch our hands through the pages if we could but shake our girl awake, if we could put our hands around the throat of the conjuress and see she never bent another illusion--

But that would miss the point entirely. You were told, so long ago now, that life does not fit into the narrow confines fiction demands. Surely you have not forgot?

There is a reason for every action. Unfortunately.

“That is true enough.”

The consort speaks in honeyed tones, mouth composed in a thoughtful pout. But that, Shirayuki knows, is merely an inoffensive mask she wears, one that may be discarded at a moment’s notice. It is always her eyes betray her, burning with an intelligence she can never fully quench.

“But was that not also the era of the former Viscount Yuris? Or the Counts of Sui and Lido?” It should be an accusation, a condemnation, but from the consort’s mouth, it is little more than a polite conversation, small talk between two peers. “So many traitors in so few years.”

Shirayuki may have gained some dominion over her face, but not near enough to keep from glancing at Lady Mihoko.

“That is the nature of the peerage,” her ladyship says after a long moment, mouth pursed in a moue of discomfort. “There are always some that choose to overreach their bounds. It is up to every lord to manage his lands in his own way. Though I know Your Majesties have...newer ideas about such things.”

“Better ideas,” the consort reminds her, both silk and steel entwined. “Under the late king, the court grew indolent, as did the crown. If he had not passed when he did, Clarines might have become another Tanbarun.”

Shirayuki’s teeth grit down, stemming the tide of protest that crashes against them. She had fled her home with little pride or trust in its royals, and it’s not as if she cares for the institution, but-- Raj was no longer the embarrassment he’d once been. It’d be a long time before he’d earn as lofty a reputation as Izana or Zen, but, well, he was trying. And as long as his father remained on the throne, that was enough.

She doubts either of them would appreciate the opinion. It’s not as if any of this is about Tanbarun after all.

Mihoko clucks her tongue. “I would not venture to say we had fallen so far as that.”

“No,” Haki agrees, so pleasant. “But I would.”

A silver spoon clatters to a dish, Mihoko’s aged fingers trembling above it. “That would be your prerogative, Your Majesty.”

“It is my prerogative to see to the quality of my husband’s court, my lady. While once this may have referred to the breeding of its members, I believe we have come beyond that. After all, Lord Zakura was hardly born with silver in hand, or Lord Sui, or Countess Yuris.” The consort hums, delicately setting aside her demitasse. “There would be worse things than to see one of the finest minds of our time raised to a position which suited it.”

Her ladyship does not smile-- a terrible business, nowadays, she would cluck, spoon chiming against the rim of her cup, men should know that every smile returns tenfold in ten years’ time-- but there is a softening in her face. Not of agreement, but allowance.

“We shall see,” she sniffs, waving away another tray of sandwiches. “In time. But none of that removes what a wonders you have wrought with this one, and in less than a month’s time.”

Haki dips her head, the barest bow. “Imagine what a lifetime might bring.”

“Yes.” Mihoko narrows her eyes above the rim of her cup. “Quite unforeseeable.”

What does it mean to conjure, to summon something from nothingness, to breathe life where there once was none? It is no mere illusion; not smoke and mirrors and lies shined until gleaming. Not just a lady’s magic, no substance nor thought, made of wishes and air alone.

No, it is creation; the act of sinking one’s hands into clay and forming something utterly unlike its origin, to take one’s will and give it form. It is any surprise that it is the provenance of women?

But that is the thing, is it not? For every creation, there must be a will, must be a spark. For man to be made flesh, there must first be clay. For illusion to be made real, there first must be a wish.

“One, two-- a sprightly pace if it pleases you, my lady! Lift your feet--”

Sweat spirals down her spine, but Shirayuki picks her heels up of the floor, her sashay the barest whisper of slipper sliding across wood. Far from the ethereal wood nymphs cavorting across the palace’s walls, but it carries her across the floor with far more grace than she’s ever managed before. Like flying, provided it was a hen across the chicken yard.

Shirayuki careens more than glides to the next sequence-- the turn, three, four, return, one, two-- and her heart lodges firmly in the vicinity of her throat. She’s never managed this one before, not without stomping on Arundo’s toes or gravity ruthlessly asserting it dominion over her, dragging her to the earth where she belonged, but--

Haki’s hand squeezes tight around hers before lightening into a lift, pulling right over her head. She curls under it, up-up-down, before swinging back, far less measured, but a thousand times more triumphant.

So many of these story children start with nothing-- unloved and unmissed, abandoned by their parents, scorned by those meant to replace them. But this girl--

This girl was loved. She did not have the mother and father that so many other had, one taken by fate and the other duty; but her grandparents tended her in their place. While other little girls were scrubbing floors, or chopping wood, or being chased into the forest with only the bread in their pockets, she was adored; a treasure on her home’s hearth.

And then, in a breath, it was gone. No time for tears, for contemplation. No time for grief.

She does what all bold little girls do: she moves forward, she adapts. All those fears and grief she locks away; a little drawer inside her mind that only opens in the dead of night, when sleep won’t come to her. How worn those memories are by now, frayed about the edges, folded and thin from neglect.

Strange how it is always children who bear the heaviest burdens. Stranger still that they can grow to used to them, that they can bear them even unto adulthood and hardly realizing they are carrying them at all.

That is, of course, until they are lifted.

“You did it!” Haki catches her arms, stopping Shirayuki’s body from crashing into hers, a smile stretched wide across her face. “With not a step missed.”

“I did,” she bursts breathlessly, nearly sagging in relief. “I did!”

A clap cracks in the cavernous room, but it is only Arundo, his own mouth parted in delight. “Brava, my lady! I am most impressed.”

“As well you should be!” The consort steps back, letting her stand on her own two feet. “There are plenty young ladies I have seen on a dance floor that have not done half so well as Lady Shirayuki.”

Even flushed with victory, Shirayuki knows that for an exaggeration; a thick bit of flattery to bolster her confidence. But it hardly matters, not when she traveled the whole floor without a single misstep.

“I truly despaired of ever teaching Lady Shirayuki much more than swaying in place.” Arundo glances at her partner shyly, color high in his cheeks. “I see it merely took a deft lead.”

“Ah, Master Arundo, it takes a woman to understand how difficult a lady’s part may be.” Haki huffs out a laugh that is far less dainty than one she uses in front of courtiers, sweeping long strands of gold from the frame of her face. “If I knew which place to help, it is only because I remember where I most needed it. As my dancing instructor used to say, we all start at the same place.”

“Still,” Arundo insists, “for you to be able to dance the man and the woman’s part-- a most impressive feat!”

“Not at all!” Haki loops the last of her wisps around her ears, and just like that, the consort’s smiling mask slips into place. “This is but a simple waltz. You yourself must know a hundred or more, and dance both parts with skill besides.”

The dance master waggles a finger at her, playful. “Ah, but in the realm of grace and elegance, Your Majesty has far outstripped my paltry skill.”

With the high drama for which the Viandese were known, Arundo swept into a deep bow, bending near in half. Over his back, Haki glanced at her wide-eyed, mouth twitching, though any proof of it was gone before he rose.

“Please, Master Arundo, I am merely well-practiced.” The consort’s mouth tilts, a wry smile playing at her lips. “Izana and I often switch when we...”

Haki’s eyes pulse wide, her cheeks blossoming with a delicate pink. “In any case, I would not have done so well had Lady Shirayuki not already been through the best instruction.”

You see, Miss? Obi’s laugh is bright in her ears, as if he were only right beside her. Anyone can do it. And if you stumble, only stand on my feet and I’ll guide us both through it--

An arm slips through hers, the consort leaning close. “Won’t my brother be surprised to see such progress?”

Shirayuki cannot fathom why Makiri might care about her dancing. He’s seen it before, both of them often pressed into the same endless dinner parties at Lilias, the sort that always seemed to turn into dancing and awkward moonlight professions. He’d been light on his feet when any of the girls dared to approach, not a born dancer like Haki, but a competent one; when she’d clomped past him, dragged by regretful partners, he’d only raised an eyebrow-- an improvement upon the usual sneers she garnered from fellow revelers. He’d never been forced onto her dance card, but still--

Haki slips her a wink, and oh, it’s not her brother she means, but Zen.

You’re supposed to be learning to dance with him, after all. Even in memory, Obi’s smile cuts like a knife’s edge. No wife dances with any man besides her husband.

Shirayuki’s palms sting where her nails cut crescent into them. This room, it’s-- it’s far, far too small. Too tight. So confining, little more than a cage--

“Shall we break for a moment?” Arundo’s jovial lilt crashes through her thoughts like a bird to a window. “And then we shall start the next!”

“A perfect idea, Master Arundo.” Haki smiles down at her, so bright that the shadows of her thoughts burn away. “I dare say my sister has earned a break.”

It was always just enough for this little girl: a grandfather, a grandmother, a loving home and hearth. There had been no dreams of another there, not even when she lost them, not even when she pruned her roses and found another set of hands to take hers. Not even when those hands became a home in themselves.

But with a single word, uttered so casually, a drawer springs open.

Sister. The word echoes through Shirayuki’s head as they walk. There’s an itch of irritation beneath her skin, a pebble in her metaphorical shoe, but still--

Sister. She’s damp, not gently dewed like Haki, so drenched in sweat that her dress clings to her. Fatigued too, every muscle aching, including a few that hadn’t been in her textbooks. She has every reason to want to bury herself in her covers, to try to find the reason her skin feels too tight.

But that’s not what her attention’s caught on, not in the slightest.

“I’m not your sister,” she says, wishing she hadn’t at all. It would be so easy for it to be taken away, for that soft glow in her chest to be snuffed out.

“No,” Haki agrees, looping her arm through hers as if it belongs there, as if she belongs. “But you will be.”

In the morning the girl rose, the cottage empty save for the scent of honeysuckle and forsythia. Her small feet padded across the floor, right to the window latched tight against the night. She pushed up to tip-toe, fingers flicking against metal, and--

And her first sight was a garden, piled high with blooms; a paradise that belonged on a canvas in oils, not at her fingertips.

Do you see? the sorceress asks, rising from where she tends her beds. I awake to this glory every morning. You could as well, if you wanted.

I can’t, the girl says, certain.

The sorceress blinks. And why not?

I... The girl stares out over all this beauty, its scent surrounding her. I do not remember.

Ah, well then. The sorceress smiles, the way she always thought her mother would, had she known her. Then stay a while, and perhaps we will help you remember together.

“May I...” Shirayuki hesitates, biting her lip as they take another winding curve through the halls. The longer she stays within the palace, the more she’s certain: she could live a lifetime here and never knows all the twists and turns it takes. “My I ask you a question?”

The consort peers down at her, both eyebrows lifted in gentle question. “You may.”

“How do you do this all day?” Shirayuki restrains herself from sagging in her stays, whalebone the spine that keeps her upright. “It’s hardly evening and if I hold my shoulder back a moment longer, I think I’ll...”

Collapse, she means to say, but it lingers at the tip of her tongue, too sweet, too untrue. Scream is close, rend this dress to pieces closer still, but closest--

Her mind snaps tight around the thought, a steel trap with a wolf’s paw between its teeth. From the murmurings she’s heard since she first came to Clarines, Wistal has seen enough madness for a lifetime.

“Ah, you see, the secret is--” Haki leans in, looping her arm through hers-- “I don’t.”

Shirayuki blinks.

“You are still learning,” the consort continues, setting herself upright, setting their arms into the proper form ladies strolling. “And thus, you must memorize protocol every day, eat your meals under supervision, and practice the mazurka. I, however, have mastered all this, and thus, I cannot remember the last time I waltzed outside a ball.”

“But the etiquette--” the poise, the presence, the elocution-- “surely..?”

“Well, of course.” She shrugs, jostling their elbows. “But those lessons were a part of my childhood, much like how you probably learned to cook and clean and pick herbs instead of poison. It all becomes second nature to you, in time.”

Shirayuki doesn’t have the heart to tell her how easy it was to mistake mushrooms, but her point-- well, it’s a good one. “I’m not sure that will ever happen for me.”

“Perhaps not,” the consort allows mildly. “Certainly they will never seem as natural to you as they might to a lady born to manors and castles. And had you continued to try to learn manners from a book, than you would have had no hope at all. But--” Haki pulls her closer to her side, mouth curled with satisfaction-- “you are not alone, you have me.”

Her cheeks flush with heat; the very same as the flame that warms her chest. “Do I?”

“You do.” The consort nods, the sort that says she expects her will to be followed to the letter. “I have always wanted to share these things with someone. Alas, I was given but a single brother, and he my elder. But now I have you.”

What was it we said? A human heart has four chambers, beating in concert. A complex thing, a puzzle box of wants and desires, one buried beneath the other, a dangerous tower of longing crushed inside a container too small to hold it. And all of us live our lives never knowing its depths, not until a drawer springs open, and oh--

Oh how easy it is for our longing to sneak up on us, all unknowing. How easy it is to be blinded by it.

When the consort smiles-- really, truly smiles-- it’s too bright, like looking into the sun, and Shirayuki has to duck her head or be blinded. She’s light-headed from only a moment of basking in its radiance; she can’t imagine what might happen if she dared to look more.

“Besides,” Haki continues blithely, skirts brushing their slippers as they walk. “You could drop an entire tureen on my brother and I think he would adore you just the same. Maybe even more, if you dropped it on the right person.”

A laugh bubbles up from her, and oh, oh, it has been far too long-- it leaves her, a cage thing finally freed from its chains, and rampages through the hall.

Haki stares down at her, pale eyes wide and almost wary. For a moment her mouth works, rounding as if she might say, a lady laughs like a bell, not a gong, just like Mihoko--

And then she joins in, just as wild.

But how can she forget about her precious boy, you might ask? How can she forget about her home?

The answer is easy enough: one must only provide a new one. Oh, how easily a heart may be fooled when the illusion is so pleasant, when it is so wanted. Men on the verge of death imagine entire cities in the desert, oases just over the horizon, luring them yet another step to their doom. When there is no relief, no hope, when only doubts encompass us--

That is when we are most in need of fiction. Of an escape, of respite. How simple it can be to close ones eyes to harsh reality when it is paradise that lays before them.

But take heart-- such things never last. They cannot. It is folly to suggest there is no life without suffering-- an excuse to give breath to all kinds of evil-- but for plenty to have meaning, there must be a lack. To know joy there must be sadness, to know wisdom there must be ignorance, and when all one’s days are filled with a mindless, monotonous bliss--

Well, there is no paradise from which man does not escape, and no garden that will keep a little girl from what she seeks.

“Ah!” Haki’s jolts ahead, a filly at the end of her lead. Shirayuki nearly is dragged with her, her feet stumbling over the hem of her gown, but the consort extricates herself just in time, setting her to rights.

“Just-- just wait here a moment, if you would,” the consort tells her, fingers wound tight over the rounds of her shoulders. “It seems as though there is, ah, someone waiting for me at the door. I’ll only be-- a moment.”

Shirayuki blinks as the consort scurries away, skirts sweeping against the carpet in a rhythm and pace too hurried for Clarines’ stately queen. “But, your room is...”

Around the corner, she almost says, a better shorthand for not yet visible, which is what she means. Both points are moot; the consort springs away long before she can speak, the only part of her that remains the lagging lace of her train. And then even that is gone, all disappeared down the hall.

Perhaps it is the angle, Shirayuki allows. With her on the inside of the turn and the consort on the outside...?

Well, it hardly matters. She huffs out a breath, straightening her shoulders, and comes to stand in the intersection. This is a safe enough place to wait; the consort’s chambers are the first door on this hall, and--

And there is someone waiting. Or was, since all she catches of them the flash of a white coat.

The girl knows every inch of this garden in time, every undying bloom. For that is what they must be, at least for them to be so many, for so long. There are daffodils and daisies, dahlias and tulips, marigolds and gardenias, lilacs and lilies of the valley. A hundred flowers and more, too many to ever name crawling up lattice and sprawling over the bounds of their beds.

And yet, there is something missing. It sits at the tip of her tongue, begging to be said, but she cannot find the word, no matter how long she thinks on it. The only thing that comes to her is the memory of loam, and the warmth of hands brushing hers.

Don’t ever leave me, the sorceress would say, a smile on her lips, fingers tangled in her hair.

How could I, the girl would laugh, an inexplicable knot of dread tightening in her belly, when everything is so beautiful here?

“Shirayuki!”

Haki approaches her, smile wide and warm but also-- strain lingers at the corners. Maybe even displeasure. “I thought you were going to wait.”

“I was,” she says, wide-eyed. “I mean, I am. Who was...”

“No one.” The consort waves her off. “Just a delivery. A tisane. For my migraines. I ran out just the other day.”

“Oh.” Her mouth works, grasping for the words that had come so easily no so long ago, but now were like grinding glass. “From the pharm--?”

“Come!” Haki sweeps her arm up into her own, pulling her firmly against her side. “It’s time for dinner, isn’t it? We must see that you’re ready.”

It ends like this: she finds a petal.

It is no crimson red, no passionate pink, but instead a simple and clean white, not so unlike the gardenia. But it is too small for such a flower, too rounded, too plush. She presses it between her fingers and it is familiar as her own skin, as the scent of vanilla on the air, and yet she cannot find the name, nor envision the bloom from whence it fell. Surely it is nothing in this garden.

What it that you have? the sorceress asks, her voice suddenly sharp, like a blade placed between skin and bloated tick. Give it here.

The little girl has not reason not to. It must have blown in from elsewhere.

The sorceress takes it in her hand, slender fingers curling into a fist around it. When they unfurl it is gone, merely dust in the wind.

We need none of that world here, the sorceress says, kinder but firm. You will never leave me, after all.

Of course, the girl says, turning to her with a wide smile. The sorceress has a new hat on, black and covered in flowers, even finer than the ones she’s worn before. Why would I, when--?

Her teeth snap down, words stuck between them. It’s the only way to be safe, the only way to stop herself from saying now what she knows she cannot. Right there, painted on the cloth, next to a blood red dahlia--

--There is a rose. The sorceress’s hat has roses, and this garden does not.

Of course, she says again, stilted. This is where I belong.

Shirayuki stands frozen in the hall, mind churning like a mill’s wheel in the storm of her thoughts. The summer months mean whites and creams and ivories are in season, a playful palette that the consort’s court adorns with floral embroidery. But she did not see a floating train of silk, or the fluttering layers of linen, but instead--

A white coat. A brown paper package done up with twine and ink scrawled illegibly on the outside, passed so quickly from one hand to the next. The scent of herbs is fresh on the air, valerian among them.

She misses it. Almost as much as she misses...

“Shirayuki?” The consort tugs at her, a question writ across her brow. “Is something wrong?”

“Haki...” Her hands clench at her side. “Has there been any news of Obi?”

That is the thing about magic: it is easy to weave wishes into illusion, but to maintain it-- a different matter entirely. A woman may send all her roses underground, never to be seen again, but to remember to remove them from every vase, from the back of a brush, from a hat--

Impossible.

“Obi?” The consort’s grip tightens, even as her smile spread wide. “No, none at all.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #All That Remains #snow queen AU #ans #i really and truly thought i'd get to finish out this section #but NO #it is not to be #to be fair it's one of the longest in the story #and it has the most like...plot movement in one piece #so i guess it makes sense #but SIGH #soon guys #soon we'll get to the turn on this #NEXT CHAPTER FOR SURE

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anntoldst0ries · 3 years

Text

Diagnosis

I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart to all of you who read my previous fic and left such kind comments. You can’t imagine how much I appreciate this!

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Vicky Valentine)

Word Count: 2,911

Summary: Dr Ramsey attempts to diagnose the most difficult case in his career...his own.

Warnings: None! A lot of introspection again and hints of angst :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ethan Ramsey considered himself a brave man.

He always had the courage to say whatever he wanted to say or what had to be said - be that a terminal diagnosis, savaging someone’s speech at a medical conference (only if the speaker was talking nonsense, that is), scolding an intern - you name it.

With years of experience under his belt, Dr Ramsey excelled at the “art” of saying the most horrible, unpleasant and inconvenient things. It was a process he took to pieces and mastered every tiniest part.

He knew exactly what they were whispering behind his back in the hospital corridors. Dr Ramsey is a bully. A ruthless cynic. No one survived more than 3 minutes of his tirades without bursting into tears. Or, as some of the interns so lovingly put it, he was “the only survivor of a heart transplant”. The last remark had been conveyed to him by Baz, who found it hilarious…and so did Naveen. It took one deadly look to silence Baz forever, however Naveen used every occasion to remind his protégé of hospital’s favourite joke:

‘How’s your heart, Ethan?’

‘Good, why are you as—‘ Ethan didn’t have a chance to finish answering the question, interrupted by Dr Banerji who was in convulsions.

‘God, Naveen, for such a bright mind and one of the best doctors in the world, I still find it hard to believe that you have a sense of humour of a 5 year old’

‘There is nothing wrong with some joy, Ethan. You should try it sometimes, it may do you good.’

Similar conversations took place on a regular basis, but they always ended with Ethan rolling his eyes and Naveen sighing. Younger doctor would never, ever tell his mentor off, he respected him too much. So Ethan let Dr Banerji have some fun at his expense from time to time.

But, truth be told, he kept his emotions at a leash and he was good at it, because there wasn’t a thing in Ethan’s life that he wasn’t good at. Regardless of what it was - saving people’s lives or emotional self-deprivation.

That’s why reminiscing past 2 years was so hard for accomplished diagnostician. He couldn’t help but think that he’s lived more during this time than he’s lived during his whole life. His existence wasn’t a boring one, he loved his job and the cases that the team had to crack were mostly complex and thus exciting. There was also a sense of fulfilment and servitude to a greater cause.

As a kid, Ethan wanted to be a detective. It all started with Alan buying his son one of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s books. There was no hidden intention in this choice - Alan simply ran out of book ideas, Ethan was literally gobbling up the books at his disposal and was thirsty for more. Therefore, Mr Ramsey picked picked one of the thickest positions available in the book shop, with hopes it will keep Ethan occupied for at least a couple of weeks. Oh, how wrong he was - 5 days later his son was already begging for more.

Sherlock Holmes and Hercules Poirot quickly took the top spot on the list of Ethan’s childhood heroes. He was obsessed with their investigative methods, their sharp minds that captured even the tiniest of details and how missing those nuances would make solving a mystery a lot harder, if not impossible.

That’s why he became obsessed with details. He analysed, compared, observed and noted down everything around him with deliberation. After a while, Ethan realised that these skills come handy in various areas of life. He could read people and to a degree foresee what their next move was going to be. If he wanted to, he could probably try and influence their decisions too. If it wasn’t for Alan’s upbringing, this particular skill might have taken his life onto a dark track, but fortunately he utilised it for greater good.

Having this sort of insight made him very self-conscious and he never turned away from reliving his own decisions and behaviours, which helped him become a better doctor, every single day. But he never wallowed in the mud of emotions, instead always operating on facts.

But for the past couple of months, this process became a pure torture.

You know what they say, the devil is in the detail. And the devil it was indeed.

The devil that would be the death of Ethan was 5’4, had raven hair, plumped lips, mesmerising eyes and a captivating laugh.

Suddenly, he heard the devil’s voice in his head.

‘Are you pinching the bridge of your nose right now?’

He was.

‘God dammit!’ - shouted Ethan, so loud that he startled poor Jenner, who resigned from occupying the sofa and ran straight to his bed. Even the retriever, in his doggy wisdom, knew that when his master was upset, it was best to stay out of his sight and wait for the storm to pass.

Whenever Dr Ramsey had a serious dilemma, he would subtly join his thumb and index finger to pinch the gentle skin between eyes. She knew of this somewhat subconscious habit and teased him about it countless times.

With most people, the whole observing and reading process was a one-sided game. For majority of mortals, Ethan was a closed book and they had no idea how to open, let alone read it. But not Rookie. She saw right through him. Ethan considered himself a riveting mystery thriller before, if we’re talking comparisons, but right now he was probably a cheap Harlequin. How did he sink so low in practically no time?

The answer came before he was even able to finish the question.

He was hopelessly, utterly and irreversibly in love with Dr Vicky Valentine.

“Victoria….” he whispered. He knew her full name, he’s read her bloody application and her employee file many, many times. More than he’d ever care to admit. Neither him nor anyone else addressed her by her full name. She always introduced herself as Vicky and even mentioned to him, June & Baz one time that she considered herself too young to be a bearer of such gracious name. But when the name fell out of his lips, it made perfect sense. Victoria. Victory. After a long, tough and heartbreaking battle, she’s won all of him. And man, wasn’t she fighting fiercely.

She was so much like him, and yet so different. Patients loved her, and for a good reason - not only was she amazing at her job, but also so genuinely caring about every patient she met. Somehow, she was able to see past people weary of their conditions, instead she always noticed the human beings with their unique stories. Thanks to her, patients never felt like sickness became their identity, but merely a stage in their life that shall soon pass.

Hospital staff adored her as well, she had time and a huge smile for everyone; her bright aura lit up every room she walked into and was a pleasure to be around.

Those who knew Ethan a bit better or worked with him were aware of the insanely high standards he was holding himself to. And it would have been fine if they only applied to him, but he held everyone else to the same standard too. It was his buffer. Most gave up without even trying, it was humanly impossible to live up to such expectations. And that was the goal. Dr Ramsey wanted no distractions and if anyone wanted so much as approach him, they had a giant wall to jump over first.

But the young intern wasn’t bothered in the slightest. Dozens of people before her stood in front of the wall and tried to figure out how to get in. And she… she just found a tiny gap and squeezed right through. Before Ethan realised what’s going on, it was already too late. And she wasn’t even fully aware of what she’s done.

Like air, she’s entered his life imperceptibly, filling every space until there was nothing else. She was in every reflection he saw, every smile, every freaking thing a reminder of her, one way or another.

He was completely under her spell, enchanted, drunk in the thought of her.

The most ironic part was that if he went by his unreasonable standards, she’d never stand a chance.

She was messy, she was a klutz, she laughed too loud and rounded her eyes like a child when something seriously excited her.

And yet, something about her made him break all of his rules, lower his guard and re-think everything he’s ever thought he knew and believed in.

Obviously, he wouldn’t be himself if the occupational quirk did not kick in at some point. Whatever the cause, Dr Ramsey had to get to the bottom of it, no matter how many tests did he have to run on his mind and heart. He needed the diagnosis so he could start the treatment. But his sharp diagnostic skills which made him a famous man, suddenly decided to go on unplanned vacation and it looks like they were not coming back anytime soon.

Ambivalence became Ethan’s newest companion. Some days, he thought he was going to blow his brains out, the others he was strangely content and did not want to analyse anything, things were good just as they were.

For the first time in his life, he felt truly lost. He felt like Jon Snow, he knew nothing. It wasn’t a result of one event, rather a chain reaction. Starting with Naveen getting sick, the inability to figure out what was wrong with his mentor made Ethan seriously doubt his capabilities as a doctor. Then, Louise Ramsey made a surprise reappearance after having walked out on him and his dad 25 years earlier. When he was little, his dad use to say that wherever Louise goes, trouble follows and it wasn’t any different this time. She brought company - insecurity, sorrow, resentment - to name just a few. Ethan felt like someone ripped a band aid from his heart and painfully reminded him that all the wounds are still alive and never really healed.

And finally, Edenbrook. The place that others saw as walls, glass, beds, people in white coats, sickness, illness, death. To him, it was much, much more. The hospital had almost a transcendental dimension. It was here that Ethan’s transition had been completed. He shed his old skin and became Dr Ramsey, the person he was always meant to be.

That’s why Edenbrook closing hit him so hard - a part of him was about to die and be buried beneath years of sweat, tears and effort. It was probably the hardest thing to come to terms with in the 37 years that he’s been walking on the surface of the Earth.

And throughout all these events, she was with him.

She never gave up on Naveen and Ethan knew that there was more to it than just saving Edenbrook’s most prominent doctor. He believed, he wanted to believe that she did this for him too.

The memory brought shame that drained off him like unpleasant wave of cold water. Ethan never really forgave himself for just laying in his bed like a drunk bag of potatoes, whilst she was busting her gut to solve the case, even though she had ethics hearing to prepare for. A hearing that could make or break her whole career, before she even had a chance to start.

Dr Ramsey would like to think they were alike. But as a matter of fact, she was a much better person than him.

Then, with his mother in the picture, she never told him what to do. Even though he asked, many times. He hoped someone can actually make the decision for him, because it hurt so much to even think about this, let alone decide what to do next. But she never did. She was just there and by simply being, she empowered him to make his own, informed decision.

She was there, like no one else was in his entire life. Not to take anything from Naveen, who had tremendous effect on Ethan’s life - but this was completely different.

She penetrated his soul.

She made him feel.

Love.

It was the first time he used this word in a long, long time.

And maybe, quite possibly, for the first time in his life he used it with intention.

He thought he felt it once before.

When he was a student at Johns Hopkins, Ethan met Camille. She was a year older than him, with angelic voice and looks, the cascade of blond locks surrounding her gentle facial features like a halo.

What impressed him was that she kept hitting up on him, not the other way round. He’s had his mind set on graduating as a top student in his class and then getting the best residency there was - in Edenbrook hospital in Boston. It was either him or someone else. University romances were of no interest to him, or so he thought. After all, he’s just gone past his teenage years and was relatively new to the world of intimate human desires. As much as he tried to push them away, he had needs and his hormones were still a giant part of his decision-making process, doesn’t matter how hard he tried denying it.

Also, there was something motherly about her and she reminded him of the woman who left him when he was just a boy. It was completely fucked-up, he hated his mother and yet a memory of her and how he’d once do anything for her was tattooed in the insides of his brain.

Ethan and Camille shared a passion for medicine, music and opera. A few times, he was close to bringing her down to Providence, to introduce her to Alan, his father. But there was this weird voice in his head stopping him.

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t overly surprised when one day he walked on Camille. In his bed. Screaming and making other explicit sounds…except, he wasn’t the igniter. It was none other than his best friend at the time, Tobias. Ethan would never forget the jealous glance he shot him with when he first brought Camille to one of the student parties. And then things got worse. Ethan and Tobias always competed and for a long time it was a fuel that kept them both going. But when someone wins, someone has to lose. Neither of them was good at losing or accepting the failure.

Ethan was doing better than his best friend. Not significantly better, the difference between them had usually been slight, but it was there. Tobias couldn’t swallow this. Not only was Ethan doing better than him, he also had one of the most beautiful students at Hopkins by his side. Jealousy started to spread inside him like a wildfire and since his attempts to beat Ethan at school were futile, he decided to make use of his other skills. Tobias was a born flirter and charmer. He often used to say that no woman can resist his spell and that “where there’s a woman - there’s a way.”

Dr Ramsey never told anyone, but having found out that his girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend was sort of relief. Call it sixth sense, an intuition… subconsciously he sort of felt that she wasn’t a girl for him. As for Tobias, he was tired of the fight….of Tobias fighting with him, that is. Ethan wasn’t fighting, he was just a better student and was going to be a better doctor. He was tired of petty competition and how the toxin poisoned their relationship.

So they actually made him a favour and helped him killed 2 birds with 1 stone - he was saved from having an awkward break-up conversation that he’s never went through before and he now had every right to hate Tobias. He didn’t really, as such feelings were a waste of energy, but a week later Tobias moved out of their shared apartment and they never really spoke again.

After Camille, he was only in a brief relationship once. With Harper. He deeply admired and respected her, but when things started getting too serious (from her side), he distanced himself. And so, for a couple of years to follow, they were on the off and on again terms. They went through countless friends with benefits stages, but he genuinely enjoyed her company. They just never wanted the same things, which became more and more evident as she was getting older. And he respected her too much to mess her around.

Ethan’s career was everything to him and he accepted the fact that falling in love and having a family is just not in the cards for him.

Or so he thought.

Dr Valentine entered his life one September morning and hasn’t left ever since. And, hell, hasn’t he tried to erase her. To make her hate him. To draw a line between work and personal life. He could honestly say that he tried everything.

For the love of God, he ran to fucking Amazon! He tried to hide from all things Dr Valentine, like a fool who forgot one of the most basic rules of life: there is no running away from yourself.

Tag list (please let me know if you wish to be removed): @terrm9 @openheart12 @openheartthot @rookie-ramsey @alwaysmychoices @brooks-eden @drethanramslay @starrystarrytrouble @justanotherrookie @caseyvalentineramsey@incorrectopenheart @heauxplesslydevoted @perriewinklenerdie @mercury84choices @archxxronrookie @renasalek-blog @maurine07 @whippedforethanfreakingramsey @lemonmiddleton @tsrookie @choicesfan10 @dr-colossal-pita @queencarb @gryffindordaughterofathena @qrkowna @aarisa-frost @choicesficwriterscreations

#open heart #dr ethan ramsey #dr ethan jonah ramsey #dr ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey #open heart choices #dr valentine #play choices #open heart fanfiction #open heart fic #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week

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fantasticstoryteller · 3 years

Text

New Amsterdam Chapter 74

Wade slammed open the door to his apartment.

[Way to go jackass. Some hero you are.]

{Couldn’t even help one poor woman!}

[Spiderman could have caught her.]

{Nothing more than poor imitation.}

Wade ripped his mask off and stared at the crimson, black, and white thing in his hands. Equal parts leather and Kevlar, it weighed more than Spidey’s entire outfit probably did. The weight of the dead. Of the grave. Of failure.

{It’s all your fault!}

It was. If he’d been more approachable, if he’d been more toned down, if he’d been more like Spidey—she wouldn’t have jumped. She would have been fine; he would have gotten her to the hospital and gotten that horrible wound on her arm looked at and treated, and everybody would have been happy. But no. No, he was a failure! Wade hurled the mask across the room, barely listening as it hit something as he collapsed against the closed door behind him.

“Wade?” asked a voice. “Are you okay?”

Fuck. He’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. “It—it’s nothing,” he grit out.

“Don’t lie to me, Wade.” Peter calmly and unerringly made his way through the dark towards Wade. “Tell me what happened,” he suggested calmly.

[Don’t.]

{He’ll just hate you.}

“Wade?” Peter’s warmth, his comforting weight, settled into Wade’s lap. Wade looked up and abruptly wished that a light had been left on. If this was going to be his last conversation with Peter, he wanted to be able to see more than just a silhouette. “Talk to me,” Peter urged quietly.

[Sure. Tell him how you failed to save someone when your hero asked you to watch his city.]

Wade bit back a sob and Peter pulled him into a hug. “I failed, Petey,” he said as he buried his nose into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck.

Peter simply rubbed soothing circles into Wade’s back, “At what, Wade?” he asked softly, gently.

Wade had no right to such gentleness, but he couldn't pull away. “There was a woman tonight,” he said, fully prepared for Pete to hate him.

[Liar.]

Peter said nothing, just kept up with that soothing rubbing. “She was—on the ledge. Of a roof,” he clarified, even though he knew it wasn’t necessary. “She—she jumped, Peter, and I couldn't—I couldn't save her.”

Peter stopped rubbing the soothing circles and tightened his grip on Wade into a fierce hug. “It’s not your fault,” he said.

The words felt like both benediction and horrible mutilation. Wade’s own arms tightened around Peter’s body. “You don’t know that,” he said miserably.

“Yes, I do,” Peter said firmly.

Wade drew in another shuddering breath as he closed his eyes and hugged Peter. “Spidey could have saved her,” he mumbled.

“Oh, Wade, no. Honey, no. You don’t know that. He might have failed too. He might have made it worse.”

Wade couldn't let anyone, not even Petey, trash talk his hero like that. “Oh, no,” Wade said firmly. “Webs is like—the best hero in the world. The universe.”

There was a moment of silence from Peter before the younger man laughed. “I love you, Wade,” Peter said, voice choked with emotion.

{I don’t understand. Shouldn't he be jealous?}

“You couldn't,” Wade whimpered. He wasn’t worth loving. He shouldn't get that privilege—but he couldn't let go. If anything, he clung tighter.

Peter didn’t squirm or demand to be released. Instead, he chuckled. “You know Wade,” he said calmly, softly amused, “the best things in life come in threes.” Wade listened, because it was Peter talking, but he made a sound of disagreement. “No, listen. Those cherries on the top of One Cone’s sundae cones. Chocolate. You.”

“Me?”

“You. Wade Winston Wilson,” Peter clarified. Peter gave a squeeze of his arms, almost knocking the breath out of Wade. “You’re the best one ever.” Wade let out a breathless laugh and felt Peter grin. “You are,” he said fondly.

Peter loved him. Peter loved him. Peter believed in him.

[Say it back, asshole!]

“I love you too,” Wade whispered. “You,” Wade’s voice broke as his throat closed. “I love you,” he whispered. He didn’t know how convey how much loved, adored, and marveled at this young man, holding him. Comforting him.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, just enjoying the warmth of his boyfriend’s presence. He did know that he fell asleep. He must have fallen asleep, because he woke up. Woke up to feather light touches on his face. His face that didn’t have a mask on it.

{Where’s the mask?!}

[Idiot threw it across the room, remember?]

And Wade did. At the time, it had been dark, but now the sun had risen. Now there was light in the apartment. Hesitantly, not wanting to see the disgust on Peter’s face but knowing he’d have to face it sooner or later, Wade opened his eyes.

Peter’s own eyes were searching Wade’s face. The feather light touches were Peter, gently tracing the patterns between the scars. The expression on his face wasn’t disgust, disdain, or revulsion (Wade was intimately familiar with all of them). It appeared to be mild confusion. “I don’t see it,” Peter said quietly, hand still tracing the skin.

[What?]

{What?}

“See what?” Wade’s voice was hoarse, almost like that time he’d gargled gravel just to see what would happen.

Peter’s soft brown eyes met his without hesitation. “You keep calling yourself a monster,” Peter said. “I don’t see a monster when I look at you.”

[Lies!]

Wade hesitated. It would be easy to call it a lie—but he was looking into the face right now. And there was no horror, no fear, no recoil. “What do you see?” he asked instead.

“Strength,” Peter responded simply. Then he elaborated, “I see a man who’s gone through Hell and gotten back up and still has the humanity to care about other people.” A smooth, soft hand came rest against Wade’s face as Peter cupped his cheek. “You’re stronger than you think you are, Wade Wilson.”

Wade leaned into the touch. He always did. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, Peter sitting right there. Calmly. Sweetly. “Pete,” he said firmly, “as sweet as this is, facing you without my mask is kind of freaking me out right now.”

Peter smiled. “Coward,” he teased gently as he pulled the mask over Wade’s head.

[We threw the mask to the other side of the apartment. How did he get it?]

Before he finished pulling the mask over Wade’s face he leaned in and, quickly, pressed a gentle kiss to Wade’s lips before pulling away and tugging the mask fully into place. His face was red as a tomato. Before Wade could say anything Peter had lurched to his feet. “Come on,” he urged gently. “I’ll make breakfast.”

{Excuse you, did he just say he was going to cook?}

Wade scrambled to his own feet. “Wait for me!” he called.

[No, seriously guys. How?]

#Spider-Man #Deadpool #Spideypool #depression #mental anguish

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dex-xe · 3 years

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I’ve made Spotify playlists inspired by each of the ghosts and I’ve made these little written pieces to talk about them. if you wanna read them, please go ahead - if not then enjoy the music!!

This is Julian’s playlist:

Arabella - Arctic Monkeys

He’d liked it in a straight boy football beer way rather than indie kid record player way, they give of drastically different vibes you know??

Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High - Arctic Monkeys

More Arctic Monkeys, it’s honestly a miracle Julian didn’t live to see them form cause God he would be too powerful upon hearing this song.

Do It All The Time - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Again self explanatory, I feel like all the songs I chose for Julian are super basic but I’m feeling stressed today and needed someone simple to do XD

Girls and Boys - Blur

I feel like I include this song in most like fuck boy playlists of which Julian is obviously a part. It almost definitely wasn’t meant in this way but it clearly has bi vibes these days which is very Julian. Jk but like it’s just like a fuck boy bastard atmosphere which I fully vibe with like same Julian we’re both bastards. And what??

Death of a Bachelor - Panic! At The Disco

I know Julian was married and had a kid and everything so certainly wasn’t a bachelor but because he kinda lived that life still it feels like his death was super influenced by his lifestyle.

The Cult of Dionysus - The Orion Experience

See above XD

I’ll Make Love To You - Boyz II Men

I love Julian singing this, it’s such a brilliant scene and Mary’s “I don’t want him toooo” is so fucking funny to me!! I want more of the ghosts singing in the next season I think it’s really fun.

Womanizer - Britney Spears

As much as I would murder Julian on sight, I’m not saying that I wouldn’t go there you know…

Country House - Blur

If you know the lyrics, it’s incredibly basic and self explanatory but here are some lines to prove my point: “City dweller, successful fella. Thought to himself oops I’ve got a lot of money. Caught in a rat race terminally”, “I’m paying the price of living life at the limit” “He lives in a house, a very big house in the country”. That’s my explanation.

London Calling - The Clash

I mean it’s the song that’s always used to convey the idea of someone being rich and successful in London, like it’s played with every single rich white boy rocking up to London ready to make a fortune.

you should see me in a crown - Billie Eilish

Another song that would make Julian too powerful, please never let that man hear this song. But it gives me Moriarty vibes cause of that line (I haven’t seen Sherlock in years so can’t really remember it) and yeah Julian gives of similar vibes but less consulting killer and more war criminal you know??

Let Down - Radiohead

Basically about watching people in a pub try and hide the empty emotions which I’m obsessed with (I bet you guys can’t figure out what my favourite band is, I’m sure I’ve included them in every playlist tbh). Politics is such an empty industry and everybody involved in any capacity is literally half deceased inside already, you look at them and can see there is simply nothing left behind those eyes *shudder*.

Blah Blah Blah - The Oozes

I adore The Oozes, I think they’re so cool so I obviously had to include this cause it’s basically about the idea of the Tories being scumbags and quote “not a sweet boy” which I think is very Julian. I adore Julian so so so so much, he’s a brilliant character and I love him to pieces but I swear to God if I saw him in real life I would bang his fucking teeth into his pissing Tory head and then reach down his throat to pull them back out again. He’s a bastard and I love him!!

FOR YOUR LOVE - Måneskin

“I wanna leave you alone in the middle of the night”. Yeah there we go.

Die in the Summertime - Manic Street Preachers

I think this is my favourite Preachers song just because the foreshadowing for what was about to happen to Richey is just???? But yeah let’s return to Julian, it’s basically about the lead singer’s idea that it’s better to die in the prime of your life rather than let things go downhill (summertime refering to adolescence, spring being youth, autumn middle age adulthood, winter elder years) so yeah I think very Julian cause he partied and fucked and drank and did drugs and then died prematurely.

Toxic - Britney Spears

Toxic king

Sex with a Ghost - Teddy Hyde

I had to include this for someone but couldn’t decide who, this felt like the obvious choice.

Charmless Man - Blur

“He thinks he’s educated, airs those family shares”. More Blur, more Blur. These descriptions are shit but like I’m tired and ill sooooo.

Don’t Threaten Me with a Good Time - Panic! At The Disco

“Champagne, cocaine, gasoline” like I will scream that line every single time this song plays. Like just so Julian, I can’t wait to find out about Julian’s death cause I just want to be able to laugh at the bastard-man’s antics!! (Irrelevant but apparently this song came out in 2015 but I distinctly remember listening to it aged 12/13 so either my memory of the year 2013 is fucked or someone’s lying about this song.)

Power & Control - MARINA

Bitch is a Tory all he wants is power and control.

#bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts julian #Spotify

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daaziscoolbesties · 3 years

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i yearn for one(1) thing only, and that is to have a nice, simplistic, cartoonish artstyle. an artstyle that doesnt rely on anatomy, but the "movement" of the drawing, if you get what i mean.

i dont want realistic proportions and traditional colors and basic poses and gradient shading, i want funky lil dudes in funky poses with funky styles littering my sketchbook :( but alas i havent figured out how to develop that kind of style yet, my brain wants anatomy to look nice but also i dont want to draw eyes. i dont want to take time out of my day to learn how to draw lips i want to draw a line that extends past the characters face. i dont want all my characters to have pointy chins with curved cheeks i want their heads to be round and friend-like or full of sharp edges depending on their personalities and styles. i want to give them all not-quite human ears, blob feet, simple faces, but at the same time i want enough detail to convey the story or emotion im trying to tell.

ive spent so much time recently agonizing over how to use 3d model websites, using real-life references and tracing over them for practice, color-picking from real images to try and do realism and failing miserably, but you know whats easier than that? funky little dudes. little dudes who do not care if their legs are too long or their hair is too bouncy. i dont want my characters to look human.

ive spent enough time on the artfight website to realize that most people who classify their characters as "human" have the most basic ass designs (no offense to people who like basic human designs its just not my thing) or its like dnd-medieval style outfits which i cant draw for the life of me (ive tried). again no offense to people who actively enjoy and draw characters like that. i just need my dudes to have that certain,,, off-ness to them. tails are cool. wings are swag (especially if they arent even like,, fully attached,, ), elf ears are so wonderful to me no matter how much theyre overused, horns are so much fun to draw, and colors!! i have no knowledge in the color theory department so this works great for me!! the only thing i really know is dont shade with black, other than that i just colorpick from references usually but i dont want to do that!! i want the colors to hurt people's eyes but in a satisfying way. like the character's design is so nice to look at that you dont mind your eyes hurting a bit. like how im enjoying writing this post even though its 2 am and the brightness on my computer wont go any lower.

and then another thing ive noticed from being on the artfight website is that a lot of people classify their characters that are anthro/have anthro features under humanoids/monsters. like i made a google form to find some people to attack and someone sent me in a character with some sort of animal (wolf? idk) arms and legs. like dude!! peak character design i love her. but me personally? i cant draw that shit, its so hard for me. i tried a while back and its just Not my thing. nothing against furries i just. cant. and i dont want to either.

and i got another submission that i accidentally deleted that was like full anthro/wolf-like like my comrade,,, i cannot draw animals what makes you think i can draw an animal who acts like a human lmao. i can do like. very basic tails, and also animal ears but i cant do the arms and legs and such i just dont know the anatomy, and i know i was talking about how i dont want to care about anatomy but i feel like for anthros you really do need to know at least basic animal anatomy so you know how the limbs look and shit and i dont have that knowledge and dont feel like gaining it.

and then there were some submissions that i absolutely adored. there was one that like, was vaguely human shaped but definitely was not a human. they had a dark-ish lavender colored skin and horns and tusks and like goat ears and a sorta fluffy tail with spikes on it and they had wings and such and they were such a pleasure to draw i love them. and they had a fairly simple outfit too, nothing too complicated. and then i also enjoy object head characters, theyre so neato to me. i got one of those and i really wish i had the motivation to work on it cause it looks so fun.

i want to make funky characters but id have nothing to do with them because the only book i ever tried writing (key word tried - never got past planning it out) had strictly human characters in it, and most of the books i read are humans/humans with powers in situations specific to them so id have no idea what lore to make with the dudes. assuming i have the motivation to make lore and backstory because honestly i just really enjoy character designing its super duper fun.

(side note a song about trucks doing the deed came on just now and its interrupted my flow, apologies).

i only have three actual characters right now. one is an original roleplay oc whos design is literally athletic shorts, an oversized long sleeved grey sweatshirt, long purple hair, and demon horns. the second one is my persona whos design some sorta medival knight outfit kinda thing? but not ugly it looks really cool (idk one of my friends designed it bc i won some contest from him but the drawing was on a super small scale so idrk the details,,,) with a plague doctor mask and crown, and shoulder length wavy brown hair, dyed bright pink at the end. and then my last one im not too comfortable using other places because theyre a character my friend is using in the story hes writing, and thats really the only place theyve been used. but theyre easily my favorite and im already writing a ton so ill talk about them too.

they're a sorta elf species thing from another planet, with pale green skin and pointed ears. they also have a tail, its like,, super thin, but with a feathery bit at the end. probably not the texture of a feather but i dont know how else to describe it. they have short, curly, almost-draco-malfoy-blonde hair that when it gets too long they can put in a man bun. their eyesight is kinda shitty so when they got to earth, they were exploring some supply closets around the airship. drop off area. thing. like airport but for rocketships and also fancier. yeah. they were exploring that area and found a nice big pair of round glasses with grey frames. and they also found a cowboy-style hat and a sharpie so they wrote their name on the underside of the brim of the hat and stole the hat and glasses (but left the sharpie in the supply closet).

yeah theyre my favorite, my absolute beloved, my child, so cool. i want more characters like them but with maybe a bit more snazzier designs. theyre super cool and all but they could have more pizzazz if they werent in a story where its too late to give them more pizzazz. i just want to be able to give my characters thigh-high boots with a bunch of buckles and fluffy hair with tons of accessories crammed in and abnormally large and long ears that can harbor many piercings and horns that can hold rings on them and special little details on their outfits like who knows what but i dont have any characters to do that too, so i have to make them from scratch, which is always hard especially when you have artblock.

and i also have like 17 characters i need to fully draw, line, and maybe color for artfight before august 1st. so i dont know. i have many things to do and plenty of time to do it but instead i spend my time halfway watching repetitive youtube videos that get boring or sleeping all damn day because i stay up too late doing things like this or i just do nothing at all and its tiring and frustrating but i also feel nothing about it like theres no consequence if i dont do it besides you know. not doing it, not gaining that experience, not making something i enjoy.

so i should do it but i dont for whatever reason, i think its called executive dysfunction but im not sure. this post started out very differently than it ended and i said somewhere up there that i was writing this at 2 am but now its almost 3. this is so many words why couldnt i have put this energy into something productive

#long post #sorry its so messy but like i said its almost 3 am and i dont want to go back and format all this #i might come back and make it look nicer in the morning #maybe not who knows #i just checked and this is 1.5k words what the hell

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aelaer · 3 years

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☕ The extended Avengers. Aka Rhodey, Wanda, Vision, Bucky, NOT PETER (already done), Captain Marvel and Ant Man. I think that's it? The others are outsiders that occasionally come into the fight and will be asked about later. 👀

Bucky you can find here.

So there’s a fun history to this post. The first draft I wrote when I was in a ranty mood, and in a rare moment of wisdom, I held off posting until I was calm and ready to revisit it. So that happened this summer, and the original draft was heavily edited. … and then Tumblr saved *none* of my edits. None of them. Ohhh, I was fuming. So I left it be, and then I had another break in the fall. Now as I play catch-up, I revisit this post once more withhh draft #3.

Rhodey: Not given nearly enough credit by most. First point: Tony wouldn’t be alive for y’all to ship (with literally everyone) without Rhodey being a motherfucking boss and saving him from everything. What I really like about Rhodey is his independence and agency. They make it a huge point in the films to show how independent Rhodey is from Tony Stark while still being his best friend. The best fan fiction with Rhodey is when the writer remembers Rhodey’s agency and keep him his own independent person rather than a Tony yes-man. The wonderful thing about Rhodey is that he supports his best friend when he agrees with him, and he lets his own opinion be known when he doesn’t, and on occasion, he sets Tony back in his place when it’s needed. He has a strong, strong character and strong personality which is why I love him so much.

With Tony’s strong personality, it would have been easy to have Tony walk all over him, but that doesn’t happen. He stands his ground when it matters, and he has his own strong opinions for his own reasons, and best of all, none of his opinions have anything to do with his friendship with Tony Stark. He’s his own man. He’s such an amazing character on his own, so why wouldn’t a writer explore the interesting dynamics between these two and make Rhodey stand on his own? I Don’t Get It.

Wanda: Not fleshed out nearly enough compared to other side Avengers in the MCU, and done outright dirty by a large segment of the MCU fandom (which was the start of my enormous distaste of anti-culture). I do think that she has a lot of potential for an expansion of character in canon, and I really hope we see more of her personality and what makes her her in her TV show. I hope we get some sort of flashbacks from her difficult childhood after she was made an orphan in a civil war, some sort of acknowledgement of her grief and healing from her brother’s death, and Vision’s as well. That is what I am looking for most in her show - more growth as a character and further acknowledgements of the grief and tragedy that shaped the woman she became. She’s never been near my favorite Avenger, but a large reason she hasn’t is because she hasn’t had the chance on the screen to really become a fully fleshed character. And that’s a crime.

Vision: Ah yeah, this was a large part as to why I didn’t post the first draft of this. A small segment of the fanbase upset me with their hypocrisy in mocking Vision’s and Wanda’s love as not real because of his android-ness, while understanding Tony’s care for his robots and his true grief for JARVIS’s loss. The inability to understand Wanda’s grief for Vision’s loss, while claiming to understand Tony’s loss for JARVIS, is simply willful ignorance. I remember I got especially angry about this at the time because some person somewhere was mocking Wanda for loving “a toaster”. The type of folks who make such comments just seem really… ignorant. Unless they’re mocking Tony in the same way for loving JARVIS. If they are, then it’s like– you’re just being more ignorant. I have stronger words, but– not worth the effort.

I don’t remember being so angry at fandom as often when I was active in the Tolkien fandom. Annoyed, but actively angry? Nah, but no one ever treated the characters so poorly and actively made fun of people for liking other characters. It might be part of why I pulled away so fully for the exhausting year 2020 was. (The ‘reset’ time did help.)

Anyway, Vision himself is absolutely fascinating. He definitely had a very interesting birth process, and I adore how the presence of the Mind Stone helps “evolve” him into something alive, which really makes sense: the mind and the evolved ability to reason and “think” is what has really separated humanity from the rest of all living creatures. While we’ve seen evidence of other animals using tools and higher emotion, and some recognizing their own form in a mirror, there’s no species that does it with a complexity and consistency that humanity does (and in the MCU, other creatures that are distinguished between “animals” and “people”). With the mind evolving, he becomes as complex as a human or another alien form. And that’s really amazing. I’ve really, really enjoyed writing him as well and people don’t understand what they’re missing by dismissing him.

Carol: I was wondering when this would come up, but no one’s asked before now. This is my least favorite Avenger. I found her movie really underwhelming and out of all the characters in it, the side characters were 10 times more compelling than her. And I really liked Brie Larson in Community, so it’s not the actress herself. I think it may be just that I don’t think she really connected with me as a person, at least with what we saw with her in her intro movie. She just felt flat, humor, emotions, everything. I also really dislike overpowered characters with no obvious weaknesses. Stephen can run out of magic, for instance, or certain tech can take him out. Carol feels too much like Superman, and I really don’t like Superman either. That’s one reason I have to write her in any fighting role or in any “heroes are in trouble” role because she just seems to be able to get out of every hero-in-trouble situation fairly easily. I’m open for future films to change my mind, but at the moment she has nothing substantial for me as a character, especially with the other Avengers competing for “most interesting” and her powers make her too OP. But I’m rooting for her (and Goose). I could try writing her with Stephen in something involving demons, so that might prove more of a challenge and help me explore her character further. I’m certainly open to metas that dig further into what makes her tick, too.

Scott: Not given nearly enough credit for his own heroics in Endgame, for one thing. Tony wouldn’t have been able to do his Famous Uno Reverse Card without Scott’s optimism and hope. I love his sense of humor, I love that he’s both smart and funny, I LOVE how good of a dad he is, I adore adore adore that he’s on good standing with his ex and her fiance by the end of the first Ant Man, and I love how he so clearly has a clear, individual personality. Kudos to Paul Rudd and the writers/directors of the first two films for helping convey that so clearly. I’d love him to meet Doctor Strange so much, properly. Yeah, he’s not appreciated as much as he should be by fandom.

And this post is finally done.

#mdcbd #james rhodes #vision #wanda maximoff #carol danvers #scott lang #mcu #another my opinions post #ask #answered #meta

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dolphin-enthusiast · 4 years

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bucci gang with a model s/o hc??

Bruno:

- Absolutely (and secretely) infatuated with s/o’s photoshoots to the point where he buys all the magazines, products etc. that include them. He won’t outright admit that he has basically all of their stuff and will be HELLA embarassed if s/o ever came across his secret little collection one day by mistake.

- Most likely that will happen someday and that’s when Bruno’s usual calm and collected persona would shatter a little, the man erratically stumbling over his own words and blushing madly whilst trying to explain himself. Last thing he’d want is to come across as creepy or stalker-ish for buying all of the magazines and pictures that s/o was featured in.

- Of course that s/o would just chuckle and call him adorable, something that would make poor Bruno lose it e v e n more. S/o would be flattered that their own partner thinks of their work so highly and greatly admires it, hence why from that day on they’d make sure to give him all sorts of limited edition stuff, some of which would even be signed! Needless to say, Bruno would feel like the luckiest man in the entire warudo.

Giorno:

- Just like Bruno, he’d be very invested in s/o’s work, every so often the man complimenting s/o on their photogenic nature and their overall lovely features. He’s just a little bit more open with his passion for s/o’s modelling career as opposed to Bruno, even though Gio would still be lowkey embarassed and would get hella blushy on many occasions.

- Giorno has an eye for art, and models are no exception. He thinks of modelling as its own kind of art because in his opinion it’s not easy at all for one to be able to fully convey all sorts of emotions and overall be photogenic in all of their photos at all times. He thinks of this career very highly and has a great appreciation for s/o’s work.

- One quick way to fluster him is for s/o to offer him signed pictures or even gift him a very rare limited edition magazine that features them on the cover! Of course that Giorno would modestly say that they really didn’t need to do that, but s/o knows him all too well and can see the sheer joy in his eyes once they give him such presents. If s/o was ok with it, Gio would even take some pics of them and keep them as memories.

Abbacchio:

- At first he wouldn’t even be able to believe that s/o is a goddamn model. How did he even end up with someone like this?? Hell, they could have ANYONE in the world and yet they chose to be with him. Every so often such questions would be plaguing Abba’s mind to the point where he’d end up asking s/o about it, to which his partner would just call him silly and explain that their career literally has nothing to do with their personal life and the choices they make of course.

- Abba would be lowkey embarassed of his behavior sometimes, but it’s just that he thinks they’re extremely beautiful and successful and that they could find someone way better than him. But honestly he’d be lying if he’d say that he ain’t fond of skimming through various magazines that include his hella photogenic partner. Just watch the man lose it after s/o secretely signs one of his magazines one day, Abbacchio letting out a comically loud gasp upon making the discovery once he turns to the first page.

- Seeing that their partner has a tendency of putting himself down sometimes, at some point s/o would come up with the wonderful idea of them taking pictures of Abba just to show him how goddamn beautiful he is as well. Of course that Abba would be extremely flushed and would make up excuses as to not do it at first, but s/o would eventually convince him and it would turn out to be quite effective. S/o would keep instructing him on how to pose (and the man would be a damn mess) and what expressions to make and holy shit he actually is very photogenic if he wants to??? S/o would ask him if he ain’t considering a modelling career, to which Abbacchio would just roll his eyes with a flustered smile.

Mista:

- If you thought Bruno and Giorno were chaotic fanboys then you ain’t seen jack shit because Mista stands out the most. He’d immediately recognize them as “that one super popular and hella hot model” and would jump up and down whilst asking for an autograph with the biggest most excited smile ever. How did these two end up actually dating??? No one knows for sure.

- Mista is extremely open about his passion for s/o’s modelling career and is constantly complimenting and praising their work. You bet your ass that he has literally all the magazines and posters featuring s/o and he ain’t afraid of asking for some extra rare limited edition numbers either. He’s absolutely thrilled whenever s/o has a new photoshoot and is basically cheering them on all the time.

- He’d be the happiest in the world if s/o would sign stuff for him too. On top of that. Mista also has a habit of bragging to people about his partner and how great they are in general, so the fact that they’re a popular model will be thrown into discussion more than once. He would tone it down if s/o wanted him to though, but he just can’t himself sometimes since he’s really proud of them yknow??? Also 11/10 asks if he can paint them like one of his french girls even though he’s fucking Italian.

Fugo:

- We all know he’s a man of culture, so there’s no way he wouldn’t recognize them. Ok maybe he wouldn’t OUTRIGHT recognize them like the chaotic fanboy that Mista is, but the second he’d see them on the street he’d just k n o w that they look familiar...till he glances to the side and sees an ad and realizes that holy shit they really are THE model!

- Fugo is hella shy and will be extremely reluctant to ask them for an autograph or shit like that, not to mention that he doesn’t wanna come off as overwhelming or creepy either. So once again, how did these two end up dating? Not sure at all. If anything, s/o was probably the one who made most of the moves all because Fugo would be too fucking shy especially because holy hell they are so popular and amazing and he doesn’t wanna embarass himself. S/o would find him to be hella cute of course. And don’t even get me started on that time when they cheekily offered him a little picture that had a small message written by them, autograph included. Fugo still keeps that shit in his wallet and calls it his lucky charm.

- Once the two make their relationship official though, Fugo will realize that he was being extremely silly for being so self conscious. After all, even if s/o is a very popular and well respected model it’s not as if they’re a deity (even though they sure look like one) or something. He’d gather more courage as time would pass to the point where he’d be buying countless of their magazines and posters, not to mention that he’s also very supportive and would be admiring them for just...having the balls to pose for a camera on a daily basis.

Narancia:

- Doesn’t even recognize them at first and starts dating them without having a single fucking clue until he sees an ad and the person featured in it gives him a little sense of deja vu. Only when s/o outright tells him about their career does the poor boi connect all the dots and he quite literally jumps up in the air full of excitement. He’d want to slap himself for being so blind all of this time but hey nothing else matters because his s/o is a f u c k i n g m o d e l.

- Considers himself the luckiest man on the planet and, just like Mista, brags to everyone about his dear partner and their succesful career. Sometimes he can get just a little bit too excited to the point where he’s staring off into the sky with dreamy eyes as he goes on and on about s/o’s lovely smile, but overall he’s just a very wholesome and supportive boyfriend. S/o happens to be nervous before a photoshoot? No problem, walking dose of serotonin Narancia is there to encourage and comfort them!

- Gets each and every product/magazine that features them to the point where he sometimes almost goes broke and it’s honestly the funniest shit ever. He just loves his s/o so much and wants to support them so damn bad by buying all the merch and products, even though s/o probably makes like twice the amount of money that he does. They’d find his behavior and enthusiasm to be extremely adorable, although s/o would still be a bit concerned about his spending habits sometimes.

Bonus - Trish:

- Honestly it’s my personal headcanon that Trish has an aspiration for modelling and lowkey wants to become a popular model someday. If not a model then an actress for sure. It goes without saying that she’d instantly recognize them on the street and would be h e l l a excited, the girl rushing towards said model and politely asking for an autograph.

- Basically, being with s/o would be the most thrilling experience of her life. Of course that she wouldn’t date them JUST because they are a model, but that aspect would also play a small part in all of this since she has a great admiration for models and she loves reading all sorts of stuff about the industry. That being said, she’d be absolutely smitten with both s/o as a whole and their modelling persona/image and would occasionally ask them for info about how it feels to be a model, how exhausting it is, how the industry works etc.

- Honestly deep down she’d wish that someday she’s going to be able to model along with s/o, and her partner would actually encourage her and support her dreams too. They would find her to be very cute and her entire admiration and love for their career would matter alot to them. S/o wouldn’t even be surprised once they stumble across the huge pile of modelling magazines (some of which would be featuring them) sitting in Trish’s room, even though the poor girl would be lowkey embarassed.

#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #Vento Aureo #bucci gang #jojo headcanons #headcanons #anon

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