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pillow-anime-talk · 3 years

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dating them.

synopsis: Some sweet, funny and also crazy moments in your relationship.

# tags: headcanons; current relationships; romance; mild comedy; fluff; PDA; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. reki kyan, langa hasegawa, miya chinen, kaoru sakurayashiki & kojirou nanjou {sk8}

author’s note: so... i’m just in love with this anime...

— REKI

↘ He’s such a precious boy who cheers you up in the blink of an eye; I think he has an extra sense, so he knows when you feel worse than usual or when you are in even the slightest pain (for example, you bumped your elbow or you haven’t eaten breakfast before ‘cause you missed your alarm clock and therefore you have a stomachache).

↘ Reki is a supportive lover; whether you are passionate about singing, learning languages, reading manga, sewing mascots or painting, a seventeen-year-old will always be right next to you to praise what you do or the way you look. He will notice every, even stupid detail about you and mention it immediately when you’re going to hang out. He’s definitely your fan and doesn’t hide it. Additionally, if you introduce him to what you love, he will also get interested in it in a way and then he will come to you to show off what he has done like a sketch of the two of you or an opinion about the anime you recommended him three days ago.

↘ The boy is really devoted to you and loves physical contact; grabbing a hand, kissing on the cheek or forehead, cute texts in the morning it’s something totally normal for the two of you. I also think that Reki could melt if you run your fingers through his soft hair or make small braids for him, decorating his head with a few colored hairpins or hairbands.

↘ If you know how to skateboarding, he will be delighted and your dates will mostly be about riding together or learning new tricks. Plus, it’s another thing Reki loves about you and wow. He’s even bigger fanboy than before!

↘ However, if you have never ridden or even tried to do it, it doesn’t matter. A teen will be happy to be able to offer you some private lessons if you wish. Again, red-haired adores physical contact, so holding your hands/waist while you stand on his beloved skateboard will be a dream come true for him.

↘ He always has ticket for you, so you make a new banner for each race to support him. Hit me, but I’m 120% sure that after race (whether he won or lost it) he takes your pretty banners and hides them in this special box that has its place on his bedroom closet.

↘ Overall, Reki is a boy who fits to the definition of high school, first love.

— LANGA

↘ Your relationship is a bit more peaceful, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a bit of humor or abstraction.

↘ Langa loves your company so, so, so badly; Reki is quite hot-tempered and is literally everywhere, so when the two of you hang out together after school or at the weekend, blue-haired feels that he can breathe and relax every muscle in his body. You’re his comfort person, and your room is a safe place without fear and noise.

↘ He also enjoys physical contact, but much more prefers to show affection in private, for example in your home or in his own bedroom.

↘ His favorite type of PDA is cuddling; he prefers to be a big spoon and hug you from behind, but he has no problem hugging against your chest or warm stomach, especially when he feels down because of school or racing.

↘ I have a strange feeling that Langa is the type of romantic who would make an amazing Spotify playlist for the two of you so you could listen to the songs, cuddling each other in the bed.

↘ If you can skateboard that’s great! For sure you, Langa and Reki will be a good trio that will meet often in the skate park or in ‘S’. I’m also pretty sure he’ll cheer for you, but at the same time he’ll be very cute with it and definitely more calm than his bestie. For example, if you do a trick... you’ll get a quick kiss on the nose or Langa will buy you your favorite drink. He definitely likes to pamper you.

↘ If you don’t know how to skateboard but you really want to start skateboarding to share your lover’s passion... Well, he will definitely give you a short (long) monologue about how dangerous it is, and you need to be careful – because he knows best of all how a fall on butt or face hurts.

↘ He always keeps a tiny set of colored plasters in his jacket or pants pocket to take care of you in the case of an unexpected accident, as Reki used to care for him.

↘ He’s a good teacher, but he will definitely need to calm his emotions, because sometimes instead of showing you how to slide down the railing, he will suggest something more down-to-earth, like going to the cinema to watch the movie you mentioned three days ago.

— MIYA

↘ Ahh, my precious smol baby.

↘ You are Miya’s first partner, so he still thinks that he’s not good enough for you, although you always reassure him with a light peck on the nose that he’s the best thing that has happened to you and that you’re very glad that you can be with him in every good and bad moment.

↘ The teenager is terribly shy about any physical contact outside, so if you aren’t at home, don’t expect a ton of hugs or kisses from him. He much prefers when you two are alone – then he doesn’t feel overwhelmed by the gazes of other people, especially other skaters who like to make fun of him.

↘ I swear I’ll bite and beat them all...

↘ Miya is a delicate soul and he really likes to feel that someone look after him, so in a relationship he definitely prefers when you cares for him. For example; just touch his soft hair, ask about his well-being or when he will have a race and a huge smile will appear on his face.

↘ I think if he feels that you are the only one for him... Maybe he will lend you his favorite hoodie with cat ears and tail? He’ll be overjoyed to see that you feel good in it. You look extremely cute, but he’ll never admit it.

↘ It smells like him, like wet earth and a hint of sweet perfume, and although it’s a strange combination, it feels really beautiful, downright safe and homey.

↘ For the next holiday (your birthday, your anniversary, Valentine’s Day or Christmas), he will give you a sweatshirt that matches to his own. It will be in your favorite color and will also have an animal accessory, not necessarily catish, because if you prefer dogs, rabbits or cows... You know, there are many options.

↘ If you know how to skateboard, he will be really calm and will feel that finally someone will want to spend time with him, training and riding together; not like in childhood when everyone turned away from him. He will definitely be moved when you grab his smooth hand and offer a long ride in the park. He definitely loves praise, so give him praise every now and then when he does a nice trick. He will also compliment you more than once and even give you a kiss on the cheek (of course if nobody is watching!). He’s not good at words, but he tries!

↘ If you don’t know how to skateboard... He may be a bit skeptical, but naturally he’ll agree to a few lessons in front of your or his house. Of course you originally just wanted to be close to him and hold his hand more often than usual, but it turned out to be pretty fun! Now, training is your typical dates.

↘ Miya is a sweet boy and although he may not look like that, he’s really protective, often jealous and always puts you at first place.

— KAORU

↘ This beautiful man, this angel-looking ideal, this ahhhh... Being in a relationship with him is pure pleasure and daily healing for the soul.

↘ He’s a calm, understanding and loving partner. I think he’s a bit old fashioned but that only adds much more charm to his person.

↘ He often calls you his ‘dearest’, ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’, isn’t that cute?

↘ You two don’t go out on dates too often, but I think Kaoru loves to spend time at home, having tea or on the couch while one of you is reading a book and the other is listening to music or just sleeping. He definitely doesn’t look like that, but he loves PDA/cuddling and is the best at it!

↘ He also likes it when you suggest learning calligraphy together. He never forced you to do this, but when he first heard that you would like to meet one of his passions, he was really happy and immediately showed you how to write with ink on the special paper he had in his flat. Obviously, more than once you ask him to write a simple letter or word, because you just love his handwriting and how focused he seems. He’s really hot then, I swear to god!

↘ You love his long hair and are always eager to give him a new, nice hairstyle; normal braid or fishtail braid. Maybe a bun or a ponytail with a few hairpins? He loves everything you do on him. In addition, the gentle head massage you give him each time is the most soothing thing in the world for him.

↘ If you know how to skating... He’s really surprised, but that doesn’t mean he’s unhappy or angry. He wants to see what you can do right away and you will surely feel a sweet kiss on your forehead more than once when the trick will be good or even better than you both thought. He’s a supportive boy, but doesn’t show it as vehemently as Reki, for example; he prefers to smile at you or clap softly.

↘ If you don’t know how to skate yet, but you asked him to teach you how to even stand on it... I imagine Kaoru going pale and trying to distract you from this idea because, as an experienced skater, he’s afraid that you will hurt yourself like any beginner. But your big eyes and ruddy cheeks are his weaknesses, so he’ll trust both you and Carla and help you keep your balance on his beloved, black-violet board. Reward him later with quick kisses or give him his favorites, okay?

↘ To sum up, Kaoru is a good and honest lover. He definitely loves your company and won’t mind spending his free time seriously and frivolously with you.

— KOJIROU

↘ This guy is the definition of the sentence ‘Through the stomach to the heart’. Any objections? No. So let’s gooooo!

↘ Kojirou is a PERFECT second half. Both in character and appearance. If he fall in love with someone seriously, and it will be you, then know that he’ll care for you like about a member of the royal family; breakfasts in bed, an Italian supper, the perfect choice of wine for a chicken or steak are things that have become a sweet daily thing for you at some point.

↘ He loves to show you affection and absolutely has no problem doing it in public, even when he’s working or when you two are in a tight crowd on the train or in the ‘S’ before his race. He will kiss you hard on the lips, grab your skin on your butt or hug your waist. It’s just that everyone needs to know that you belong to him. He’s just as clingy as Reki, and sometimes even worse and bolder.

↘ Of course he has cute side; he likes to lie on the bed or the sofa with you on his chest. He loves being between your thighs and sleep there. He definitely has a weak point in that when you you run your finger on his tattoo or cook dinner with him, throwing ingredients at him and laughing out loud.

↘ Another romantic who uses thousands of pet names (like babey, cutie, doll, pumpkin, kitten). Plus, he loves to dance with you in the kitchen and steal a few kisses here and there. Also, if you aren’t looking, he likes to surprise you with a big, bear hug.

↘ I think he’s a bit impatient, so he doesn’t like to sit at home and prefers dates in crazy places (such as an amusement park, swimming pool, karaoke bar) – it’s his favorite way of spending your time together. As a gentleman, he always pays for you, unless you go faster and bring your ATM card to the card reader as first. But don’t be surprised when Kojirou will just buy you cotton candy or popcorn shortly afterwards.

↘ If you know how to skateboard, he’s as excited as a kid and will definitely offer you a date at the skate park. Naturally, he wants to show off to others what a super cool partner he has, but he also wants others to know that you’re here together to kick everyone’s asses with your abilities. You’re definitely a powerful couple and you have the matching necklaces!

↘ But if you don’t know how to skating then... well, well, well. Just be prepared that one day (without even asking for it) you’ll stand on his beloved board and he will grab your hips, smiling silly. He enjoy skin ship so this guy feels utopian when he can be near you. He definitely won’t spare you compliments, long pecks, and smack your butt when you do something great, so you have to get used to it... and it’s going to be a long training session, so good luck, my friend.

↘ He’s a funny guy, but he’ll never cross your limits, so don’t worry about that. However, he will always find a topic for conversation or a joke to relax the atmosphere or cheer you up. You will never be bored with him.

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dourpeep · 3 years

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The men of Genshin as romance types:

This just kind popped up in my head after thinking about Xiao's characterization! I might add to this in the future, but for now it's just a small list of headcanons + a short blurb :>

Contains: Lots of fluff, lightly suggestive

Features: Albedo, Venti, Kaeya, Xiao, Zhongli, Childe, and Diluc

Note: you can be soft and still top btw, this is only for how they'd be romantically

Sweet:

Albedo

Albedo is also shown canonically to do little gestures like give people the sketch he did of them to see them smile, this man might seem kinda standoffish at first, but he's not cold

From his voicelines and story, we also know that Albedo is the type of person to think pretty deeply about everything around him

His brain goes 100 miles an hour with all the possibilities and scenarios he can think of

So with his s/o, the best thing that could happen is that he'll take the time to really slow down and unwind

Being a busy, busy man in pursuit of knowledge beyond anyone's comprehension, Albedo rarely gets time off (his sketches are considered research, in a way, no?)

So once he's finally at home, there will be lots of little shows of affection

Passing behind you, perhaps a light touch on your back or shoulder to let you know he's there

On a particularly rough day, he'll sit facing you with his forehead resting on your chest and just--take your hands and put them in his hair

Not really the type to pamper, but there's no doubt of his love

Probably the type of guy to like sitting close in silence

Maybe on the nights you cook, he'll come and wrap his arms around your waist, head leaning on your shoulder as he watches you work

Quietly, you lay on the couch tangled up in his arms, the soft sound of breathing and the light warmth you feel lulling you to sleep. It seems that, even though Albedo is left half asleep from a long day of research, he still continues to trace mindless little patterns on the back of your hand with his thumb. You shift, and he hums, pulling you closer.

Venti

The man’s been through so much, honestly

He's lost his closest friend, helped a rebellion usurp a tyrant, been through a war that lasted centuries, watched as another friend he'd known since birth fall to corruption (but ultimately was saved)

Point being, he's tired and just wants to have his fun

True to his nature, he likes to tease and poke at his s/o, but nothing that can't be undone (after all, a prank isn't funny if it's permanent)

Hand holding, is a must! Venti is a very affectionate person who isn't afraid to express his feelings when it comes to his s/o

Lots of smooches too! (Please smooch him back)

Speaking of hands and smooches, he's the type to bring your hand to his lips and give each your fingertips a little kiss. They've done so much for you and allow him the joy of holding them, so it's the least he can do!

His type of love is free and sweeter than the scent of cecelias, soft as the wind that kisses your skin

Really, he wants to be able to treasure you as much as he can in the time you have together

Today was a picnic date kind of day. A basket filled with fresh, ripe sunsettias and a few dishes you both worked together to make (mostly you, after what happened with Venti's apple cake) sat on top of a sturdy blanket laid on the grass. Head laid in your lap, the wandering bard strummed idly on his lyre, adding a lovely backdrop to an already perfect day.

Romantic:

Kaeya

Of course, the suave Captain doesn't stop with honeyed words

Mysterious as he is, he takes what he does in stride

If he could spend all his life entwined with you, he'd die a happy man

Kaeya is the type of partner to romance with candlelight and nighttime strolls on the beach

A little cheesy, yes, but all the more to sweep you off your feet

Flirty, he likes to take his time with his love and while he similarly treasures his s/o, it's in the way the fairytales are written

Perhaps a little cliche at times

Nevertheless, he's the type of partner to sweep you into a dance despite there being no music and dip you low (whether you both lose balance and fall is up to gravity)

He'll show his affection physically, whether through a quick kiss when you stop by the Favonious Knight's HQ, or pulling you close when you walk through a crowd on a market day

Teasing is also a big thing, if he can make you blush, his mission is accomplished

In privacy, expect his treatment to be the same--it wouldn't do any good if he leaves his dear s/o confused about how he feels

Once again, you take his hand and he sweeps you into a lively waltz, sweeping across the living room floor. Not once do his eyes leave yours. All he ever needs is the feel of you close and the rush of his heart in his chest that bubbles into something fonder when your laugh reaches his ears.

Xiao

Not the best with words, Xiao shows his love through his actions

Little gifts, helping now and then with commissions and clearing the road, he'll do it all with no expectation of thanks (should you thank him, he'll be extremely grateful for the recognition but also perhaps unsure how to react)

He doesn't tend towards physically showing affection to his s/o, so when he does, expect them to show his utter devotion

Often, Xiao questions what it is that he did to deserve such a love, but as soon as you appear in his view, it no longer matters because as long as you believe him to be worthy, why wouldn't he be?

His love is based deeply in trust. The heart is a fragile thing and to someone who's suffered so much in his lifetime, he guards it fiercely to protect himself

When he finally does allow himself the comfort of a relationship, he'll soak it up entirely

Nights spent stargazing on the top of Wangshu Inn, pinkies intertwined, or bodies held together tightly with the sweet exchange of breath

Every touch that he offers is gentle, reverent, and serves to remind him that what he's experiencing is real

He tried, really, for the thing on the plate to turn out the way that you usually make it. It's a far cry from what he remembers, but you set it down and bring your hands to his face. The sight of your beaming smile warms him deeply and he pulls you in close for a kiss.

Zhongli

Be still, my beating heart-

Just as he's full of information from the flowers of Liyue to the deepest cracks in the soil, he loves fully and unapologetically

He's lived through many eras and seen so much that it's hard to not want to express how he feels as he feels it

Deeply appreciative of whatever his s/o does and does for him

He indulges in every word, touch, feeling, and look- He's not a greedy man, but when it comes to love? There's a deep desire to feel it all

There are many ways that Zhongli expresses that love, a few being through your daily strolls through Liyue Harbor and the daily and nightly rituals the two of you have settled down into

His favorite is probably the mornings

There's something about waking up wrapped up in your lover's arms, head resting on their chest as the sun's warm beams shine through the windows that's utterly satisfying

Zhongli indulges in these little moments, favoring them over all else

Once in a while, he'll take you back to where your first date was to reminisce, perhaps even (jokingly) mention little embarrassing things either of you did

Zhongli watches as you sip at your drink and admires the way the sun compliments your eyes. You're preoccupied by the falling leaves, it seems, mentioning how they're just as brilliant gold as his. Though the feeling he feels is far from the excitement of butterflies, it has settled into a comforting sort of warmth that hopes you feel as well.

Passionate:

Childe

This man's love is wild like his personality

Loud, fun, and never quite predictable, he loves like a whirlwind and with an enthusiasm to match no other

Lots of teasing going on here, to make you blush or to mess with you, you'll never know

But it's his unapologetic fire that drew you to him to begin with

When he's not occupied with work, he'll drag you to go sight seeing

Every experience is a new experience, no matter if it's something that seems so everyday or not

His affection is in the form of tightly held hands (he doesn't want to lose you with how quickly he weaves through the crowd), well-placed winks, and kisses to steal your breath away

He also loves in a way that's fiercely protective. His job is a dangerous one and, with the way he's open with your relationship, his affection serves to protect you

But don't forget that despite his passion, he's a man who deeply treasures those close to him and, as his s/o, you'll be showered with only the best he can give you

It was only a quick break in your day, he'd assured, but it quickly became another round of seeing Liyue through his eyes. In the span of only an hour, you've already spotted an untouched patch of glaze lilies, sampled rich Li-style cuisine and fresh Yue-style cuisine, helped a young girl fetch her kite from atop a tree, and now are working your way (or rather, Childe is working your way for you) to a little area behind the busy streets to show you a pack of dogs he'd befriended. Fondly, you smile and watch as he beckons them out of hiding.

Diluc

Diluc lives for the way that his s/o brings the best out of him and, in return, he does the same back

He exudes the air of a gentleman with the way he shows his affection, but, whether intentionally or not, in an utterly enticing way

Being busy during the day with running the tavern and the winery as well as at night as the Darknight Hero (he insists you stop calling him that as well, but you don't miss the light flush of pride each time), the time he dedicates to you is left in the early morning long before you leave for the day and the evening as he settles just before he sets off

During morning time, he's often fond of running his hands over you, feeling each dip and curve, memorizing the way your hair falls and the way your lips curve when you smile

It's a quiet sort of passion

His love is expressed in the fond murmurs against your shoulder and head, sharing those moments of deep intimacy both physical and not

In the evenings, you both settle in front of the fireplace, sharing a drink or two

There's sometimes a certain look in his eye that sets your heart aflame in the dimly lit room, and sometimes he sets off a little later that night in lieu of a few more stolen moments with you

Diluc slides into your shared bed in the early hours of the morning, a bit later than usual. The shift stirs you just enough to wake up to two arms pulling you to his chest and a deep breath with his nose buried in your hair. He's no doubt exhausted. Eyes bleary, you turn until you're facing him and loosely wrap an arm around his waist. In the moments you're still half-awake, you hear a low murmur of 'love you' and you smile against his skin.

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matthewbeilschmidts · 3 years

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It’s been a long while since I’ve posted but I’m so glad that I am :’)

This is for Day 1: of @prucanweek - Ordinary

Apologies for spelling errors, it’s a little short but I hope you enjoy 😭💞

Matthew doesn’t mind that he’s living an ordinary life. Really.

He grows up near the coast, two parents, a fraternal twin brother, and their gangly hairless cat, Tony (picked curtesy of Alfred). Their parents take them everywhere they can during their childhood, the beach, museums, sports game. They focus on their interests, figuring out what the two like and dislike, as they encourage them both to be themselves and do what they love no matter what. Alfred debates between whether he likes wrestling or football more, while Matthew settles into hockey. In between family get togethers, community festivals, and endless sports training, they somehow have time for homework. (The two share answers a lot.)

He and Alfred each have their own rooms when they enter their teen years, a space to decorate and fill with their own mementos and awards. The sports continue, but later their parents find themselves a little bit busier than before. They do though, give them as much time as they can during the school year, never wanting them to go without someone by their side.

Matthew fades into the background a little bit as they get older, while Alfred puts himself front and center. Matthew watches once with a hand over his eyes as Alfred auditions for the school musical, and surprisingly he read and sings the lines well. “It’s always the rowdy ones!” their theater teachers says after he’s finished performing, a mix of anticipation from planning on putting Alfred on stage and dread at the thought of having to manage him.

Matthew silently supports him, after all he has his own things to do.

He’s the co-caption of the hockey team, the coach giving him the position to give him a little more of a voice, and his teammates verbally agree, considering on the ice Matthew has a lot more to show than he does in person. He accepts, albeit hesitantly.

By the time graduation comes by, Matthew can barely believe how the time has passed. His team even wins a championship under his watch. Some of his fellow classmates look so ready to go out and experience the world, and it’s scary to him because weren’t they all going at the same pace?

His parents talk him through picking his college of choice, and he decides to go. He needs to do what everyone does and experience the world.

And if he decides he wants to come home, that’s okay because at least he tries.

He’s in his first art class during his third year at university. The time has been going well, he’s got pretty decent grades and has managed to join a few clubs. But he’s not done yet. Extra curriculars, can’t finish without them. He prioritizes his general education first, and even slips himself into a few major classes early on, but humanities is on record now and has to be completed no matter what one’s studying.

He can get through one semester, he hopes.

Next to him, a student is snickering and the professor doesn’t look amused.

“Gilbert.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“If you’re done, I can introduce myself now.”

The professor goes in with complete, in-depth introductory slides with her name and credentials, and a briefing of all they will overcome this semester.

He’s never been an artist, at least not one that picks up a pencil and creates a realistic masterpiece with nothing but that and a pad of paper. Maybe some poetry contests in high school, if that counts. The written word has its own impact, its own set of colors to breathe out for the world to see.

There’s another snicker, interrupting his internal monologue.

He doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know the student, and it’s not his place to control others. But, if it starts to hinder the class, maybe he’ll tell him something. He’s paying to be there, too.

The man catches him staring.

“Yes?” he asks Matthew without being spoken to in the first place.

“Oh,” Matthew flushes at being caught, not that he was trying to hide it anyway. “Well, she didn’t say anything funny?”

The guys waves a hand, making a “psssh” noise as he does.

“I’m just laughing because of how formal this all is. She won’t be this dignified later in the semester that’s for sure. She’ll be ripping her hair out.”

Matthew glances back, he doesn’t want to say anyone looks mean but, he would believe it if she was.

“You look scared,” the guy laughs, which is rude because isn’t he the one that just put the thought in Matthew’s mind? “She’s not too mean just a sticker to the rules. Will get real pissy if something doesn’t go right.”

“And you still set her off knowing that?”

The man laughs again, but this time around he’s actually trying to contain it behind the thin art easel. He’s not very hidden.

“She’s my cousin’s wife.”

Ah, that makes sense then? Messing with family is normal, but also he shouldn’t be bothering her at work.

“It’s no wonder you seemed casual.”

“She taught both of the lower division figure drawing classes, too. This is my third semester in her class. She’s the only one teaching this specific class I didn’t have too much of a choice.”

“Art major?”

“Yep! And you?”

“Psychology major. I have to get in some cultural classes.”

“Ever taken art?”

“Actually no, not even in high school. I got through that stuff by working backstage in the theater department.”

“Well not to worry my friend, because you picked the best one.”

“Is it easy to pass?”

“Nope. Well, maybe if she likes your work,” Matthew deflates at the blunt response, “but don’t worry because I’m here to be your guide.”

Matthew perks up, but it takes him a moment. This guy’s gonna help him?

“Are you any good?”

“Am I good?” He looks perplexed Matthew would even ask. Matthew has to cover his own amusement. “I may not look it but charcoal and I go way back. I’ll show you my work later as proof.”

“Deal.”

“Gilbert, since you’re adamant on talking, you can be the first to introduce yourself.”

Even if his name wasn’t said, Matthew feels just as guilty. Caught, for talking on the first day of all things.

“Gilbert Beilshcmidt. Fourth year. I’m an art major and my favorite breakfast food is pancakes.”

Matthew looks surprised that he was paying attention, even to the last addition of their introduction. Matthew’s not sure he would have known considering he was distracted.

And so their friendship starts.

Gilbert sits next to him again. And again.

Where ever Matthew sits in the art room, Gilbert follows not too long after.

Some days they take the sitting desks, some they stand and lean against the stools.

And despite not even talking much, Gilbert treats him like a friend.

“Do you have any plans this afternoon?”

“Nope, this was my last class.”

“Do you want to get some coffee and work on our sketch books.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Matthew finds himself meeting Gilbert in his downtime. Every Thursday after drawing for three hours becomes the day they meet. At first, all they do is draw, little more.

Gilbert is animated in all moments, but he has short spurts where he focuses exceptionally on his work. Matthew is no art critic, but he thinks Gilbert expresses himself quite well on paper. Graphite, charcoal, and pastels, all the utensils glide easily without a single stroke missing its mark.

Watercolor though, could use some work, which actually happens to be Matthew’s favorite. Even if the intention is to guide the colors with a brush, it’s okay for them to take a life of their own spreading across the thick paper.

They share snacks, art supplies, and their time.

Gilbert proves himself very useful as he promised. Matthew though never planning to be the next Van Gogh, has to pass this class. And it would be nice to pass it with flying colors, but some concepts are harder to grasp than others.

It’s obvious to tell he’s a beginner, while Gilbert excels. Matthew finds out he only now needs the intro class since it’s the first semester it became a requirement.

Gilbert helps him find the shapes he’s comfortable with, explains the processing for hatching and how it relates to shading. And while he’s no expert, he sees a subtle improvement over the next few weeks that makes some pride swell within himself.

“Do you want to come with me and my friends to this cool bar for dinner on Friday?” Gilbert asks about a month into the semester.

It’s the first time Gilbert and him will have spent time off campus.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

Gilbert’s friends are just as animated as he, it’s almost hard to keep up. Overwhelming as they are, they’re extremely welcoming. Matthew eases into the atmosphere, joining in when he can but mostly pleased to be out and doing something different.

He’s made friends during his time, but like him they’re a little more reserved and pick quieter places on the town.

It’s fun. And he wants to go out again.

Matthew invites Gilbert and his friends to watch his next hockey game.

After their shock in finding out he plays such a violent sport, they’re all agreeing and planning to find the best seats in the arena.

“Are you serious. Are you hiding muscles under that red sweater?”

Gilbert pokes at him, it tickles when he gets closer to his biceps, but he knows he’s only teasing.

“You think I’m playing but I’m serious! You should have been there, well you were there. On the stands, I mean. We all screamed after you sent that player flying against the wall.”

Gilbert recreates the motions, but only slams himself into the wall and whines after he bounces back. He then plays it off like it doesn’t hurt. Gilbert’s not a very good actor.

People tell him it’s so much different watching him on the ice, but it’s still him. He’s always wondered how much different, he feels like himself. He just knows he goes into the zone when he’s in his gear. He just wants to win. And he will.

“It’s like night day,” Gilbert continues. “You were ready to kill a man down there.”

“You’re not the first to say that. I guess maybe, I could be a little more out there in real life, huh?”

Gilbert stops walking.

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“You’re perfectly fine the way you are. I like the way you are, so don’t go change. I don’t want to be at risk of dying during art class.”

And as silly as it sounds, he’s pleased. He likes Gilbert a whole lot, too. Just the way he is.

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” Matthew takes the initiative.

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, just you and me. I want to take you out.”

“Like you did to that guy on the court,” Gilbert laughs nervously.

“On a date. Gilbert, would you like go out with me?”

He says yes.

Later that evening when he’s heading home, Gilbert starts running through the courtyard cheering that “I have a date with the cutest guy I’ve ever met!”

Matthew’s window is open, he’s face is bright red and he slams head first into his pillow. He needs to plan the best first date ever.

Three months into dating, he’s finally heading home again for a school break. He wants to take Gilbert with him, who is waiting for the next major holiday to go back home. But isn’t it too soon? They haven’t been dating that long, after all.

But Gilbert surprises him, and jokingly says he wants to go with him because he’ll miss him too much while he’s gone. And then, Matthew asks if he seriously wants to go.

“I do.”

So they ride the 3 hours train down to Matthew’s childhood home. He’s a little bit nervous, because he’s had dates to school dances, and brought friends over, but this is entirely different. This is someone he wants to take a serious step with, even if the time hasn’t been that long. They’ll never get anywhere if they don’t, so they’ll both take the leap and pray it works out.

“Mom, dad, Alfred, this is Gilbert.”

It’s the most timid Matthew’s ever seen him.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Matthew’s boyfriend.”

After he shakes all their hands, he takes his hand back to link pinkies with Matthew.

There’s not an once of regret in his mind as the long weekend passes.

Gilbert graduates the next year, and the year after it’s his turn. They’re going to move in with each other. Gilbert really has no irresistible urge to go back to his home town, satisfied with just visiting a few times a year. And Matthew thinks he would like to go back closer, just to figure out his next move. So, they go together.

It’s only a one bedroom, but is more than enough space for them both. Gilbert finds work as a docent while Matthew works for a second degree in education.

He still plays hockey for a local league, Gilbert becoming their number one fan. They find their own rhythm, a pace that works for them both, where they can settle down or speed up when they agree with each other. Dewey mornings, warm summers, chilly evenings they spend them altogether.

They decide move up North closer to Gilbert’s hometown. Matthew’s more nervous meeting his grandparents than he was introducing Gilbert to his own family, but Gilbert assures him again and again they’re just a stuffy old family who actually really care about each other a lot more than they let off.

Gilbert’s grandfather towers over him, despite being a hair above 6 feet. He’s silent, eyes boring into Matthew as he introduces himself. And to end all of Matthew’s worries, the elder man pulls Matthew into a hug and tells him he’s glad him and Gilbert are home. Gilbert, just as perplexed as he, stares, but he melts into a pleased laugh.

Yeah, this is his and Gilbert’s home now.

They stay, for a long while, contemplate moving a few times, but they’re satisfied for now.

Gilbert and him always make time for each other, continue their own respective interests with complete support of the other. They’re never afraid to complain, because they always work through it rather then let it simmer.

Gilbert’s vivacious spirit keep them going, and Matthew’s heart keeps them grounded.

His life at first seem a little bit ordinary, but how can he complain when the pieces of the puzzle fit themselves in and stayed locked in tight.

#hetalia #prucan #prucanweek #APH Prussia #APH Canada #.txt post #I forgot all my writing tags #will fix later HAHA

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donutloverxo · 4 years

Text

Nude

Run through - Steve wants to try new things so he takes a painting class with a nude painting subject. Only the woman he has to paint are you, Peppers assistant and his crush.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 2k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

Steve Rogers was many things. He was an artist, an amateur cook (who really does try), a loyal friend, a good citizen, a soldier. Yet when people looked at him, they only ever saw the captain. His friends called him cap. He'd go weeks without hearing his own name. Sometimes he felt the lines were blurred. When did Steve Rogers end and Captain America begin?

He had a big wake up call when he confronted Tony, saying he wasn’t iron man, it was an alter ego. To which Tony said that Steve was basically captain America. And Steve couldn’t argue or disagree, because it was true. He didn’t want to lose himself in his work anymore than he already had. His therapist told him to make healthy boundaries, which is what he’s going to do.

So he ordered some colors and pencils online and got to work on his art, for the first time in a long time. It was exhilarating and freeing. He could lose himself in it, go on for hours without thinking and seeing anything but the colors and his canvas. Which was extremely rare for him. He could rarely ever shut his brain off or run from his traumatic memories.

Everyone could see the visible change in him. How he seemed happier. Clint even joked about it saying

“Cap must be getting some”

To which Steve only snorted. There was no room for anything as complicated as a relationship or sex in his life, not right now.

But wouldn’t it be nice? To have a woman to hold and to paint. To love and care for. He didn’t let himself delve too much into that fantasy. Because even if it was a nice escape once in a while, he knew that while Steve Rogers might make a good partner, Captain America would certainly not. He would never subject any woman to deal with either of them.

With some encouragement from Sam and his old friends he started attending painting classes at his alma mater, the Brooklyn College, every Saturday evening. It helped him make some friends. He didn’t know if he could call them friends. Most of them were too different from him. They seemed like different types of 'tortured artists'

When he heard that there would be a nude subject to paint the next class, he was a little bit hesitant. Such a thing would’ve been scandalous in the 40s. But he was trying to open himself up and that meant pushing his comfort zone, even just a little bit.

When he set up his canvas, oil colors and brushes that Saturday he expected male subject. He didn’t however expect to hear a woman’s voice. He was too focused on his set up to look up, whatever. He didn’t care if it was a man or a woman. There wouldn't be anything erotic about it. This was strictly professional and educational.

He looked up to take a good look at his subject, when he felt as if his soul was knocked out of him. There you stood, his crush, Pepper Potts' assistant, and the woman who turned him down.

“You know back in my day they used to play elevator music” He said to drown out the awkward silence. Even after all this time, he still didn’t know how to talk to women. He had had a crush on you since the moment he laid eyes on you. You were always so funny and sweet. Asking him and everyone about their day, if they were doing well. Always willing to help others.

When he let it slip that he likes banana bread, you baked him a whole loaf of it, which chocolate chips so ‘so you think of me when you have them. They’re my signature of sorts' you had said proudly. Of course he’d be thinking of you when he ate it. Overthinking actually. Wondering If you like him as he likes you, or if you’re just being your sweet self.

“Oh we still have that!” You chirped “but not in um professional or business buildings like these”

He just nodded. Tapping his foot impatiently. You would get off in just six floors it was now or never. “Hey uh – what are you doing this Friday?” he asked shyly.

“Oh just watching some Gordon Ramsay with my dog probably. I have no life” you laughed at your own self depreciating joke “Why?” you tilted your head.

“I was thinking, maybe we could get dinner? Only if you uh – you wanted to, you're free to say no” he promised. Maybe he should’ve asked you to ‘hang out' or 'for a coffee' like most people these days. But he felt that was no way to treat a lady, especially one like you.

“Oh Steve” he was already disappointed upon hearing your tone “I would’ve loved to. But even though we don’t work together, it wouldn’t look good you know? I mean I don’t care much for 'my image'” You said making air quotes “But I don’t, it’ll be complicated” You looked completely defeated. As if it hurt you to say no more than it hurt him to hear it.

“I completely understand” He nodded “no hard feelings” he gave you a smile as he watched you walk away. It did break his heart a bit, but he’d respect your feelings.

He looked at you taking off your satin robe revealing your bare body to the class of twenty or so artists. His breathe hitched. Your hair flowing down your back and covering a bit of your left breast, your soft stomach and thighs, the patch of soft curls at your core, your nipples hard against the chilly air, and how your stomach rolled a bit as you sat uncomfortably on the stool. You were beautiful. A work of art even. There was absolutely no way he could do you justice. He started drawing an outline on his canvas. You would very well be his best subject.

You looked around a bit, your fingers holding onto the stool for dear life so you could stave off the anxiety and feeling of being so exposed. Then your eyes landed on him. You thought you were dreaming, maybe you didn’t see properly, so you did a double take. Then you were frozen on the spot. There he was, Captain Rogers, the first Avenger, the man you often dreamt about, sitting right in front of you while you were naked as the day you were born.

You had no idea what you should do. This was literally like a nightmare come true. If you flee it would look bad, if you didn’t it might look worse. You decided you’d follow his lead. So you peeked a glance at him from the corner of your eyes and saw him, sketching you? Holy shit Steve Rogers was drawing a nude portrait of you. What has your life become?

You had always been insecure about your body. You knew magazines, porn and movies were meant to feed people lies to get them to buy more things. That didn’t make you feel any less bad about not looking anything like the women in them. You tried to remind yourself that you have many things going for you. Like your supporting family, your loving friends, your cute labrador, your amazing job.

Speaking of your job, exactly why you turned Steve freaking Rogers down! A man that looks like him asking you out and you say no. Your friends flat out laughed in your face at your unfortunate predicament, where the cake is right there but you can't eat it. Now that you thought about it, it was funny.

Your co-workers weren’t kind to you. Even on your best day you didn’t look anything like the women you worked with, who would stab you in the back the first chance the get. You were kind to everyone, but you knew by now not to expect the same treatment back. Which was why you had to say no to the beefy blonde. You didn’t want to be branded as the ‘office slut’.

Which now you were sure you would be. You didn’t know Steve enough to know he’d be willing to keep this a secret. He didn’t seem like someone who would do that to you. But you still couldn’t help but think the worst.

You squirmed and shivered in the chair for a good part of the next two hours. By the end your back was sore and you did everything you could to avoid looking at Steve, only sneaking glances here and there, while he seemed too engrossed in his work.

You had done this a couple of times before, to accept your body for what it is and get comfortable with it. If you weren’t going to love it no one would do it for you. Finally the time was up and the artists were asked to pack up for the day.

You quickly got up from your stool putting the robe back on. You turned your back to Steve, stretching your muscles. You couldn’t wait to lay down on your comfy bed and just get out of here. But you knew you needed to have that inevitable conversation. You probably would never be able to look Steve in the eye after this.

You walked towards him as he was cleaning up his work station. “Fancy seeing you here” You cringed at your embarrassing attempt at a British accent.

“Hey there” He gave you a bashful smile scratching the back of his head “I didn’t expect to see you here”

“Right back at ya” you returned his smile, no longer feeling on edge. It was strange how his presence served to comfort you.

“You do this often” he asked casually. You couldn’t really hear any judgement in his tone, not what you would expect from a hundred year old.

“No not really. It just uh – I’m trying to love myself. Which I already do! Of course” you let out a nervous chuckle “just trying new things and stepping out of my comfort zone”

“That makes two of us” he said as he was done packing his bag, which he was deliberately doing at a slow pace. He didn’t want to leave. Not yet.

“Can I... Look at your painting?” You asked nervously. You didn’t know if you wanted to see his interpretation of your naked body, what if it was bad? But what if it was good? What if he was impressed by you...

“Uh it’s not done yet. And frankly I’m not that good”

“I seriously doubt that. I’ve seen the sketches in your office” You caught your slip of tongue. You couldn’t let him know about your borderline unhealthy obsession with him.

“Well, have a look then” he relented showing you his canvas.

You let out a breathe you didn’t even know you were holding at the painting. It was breath-taking. The woman looked like you, but why was she so beautiful and graceful? In the painting she was sitting on a stool, like you, in front of a tree admiring a rose in her hand. She was naked as well. It reminded you of classic Greek paintings where women weren’t perfect, but were celebrated for their imperfections.

“It’s amazing Steve. I – do I look like that?” You stammered not being able to tear your eyes off the painting.

He shook his head at your shock “On the contrary you look much better I’m glad you like it”

“You’re a great artist” you gushed

“I don’t know about that. I’ve seen much better” he said humbly.

You would argue with him. But you knew it would be of no use. Looking at the beautiful woman in the painting gave you the surge of confidence you needed “Steve, does the offer for that dinner still stand?” You straightened your back looking up to lock eyes with him.

“Yes” He blurted without even thinking “how about tomorrow evening?” He asked.

“Yes that will be awesome! You can pick me up at seven. I’ll text you the address“ you said making an mental note to do so.

You could hardly wait for your date. You didn’t really care about what your co-workers would think of you. As long as you were happy their opinions didn’t matter.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you want in on the taglist click the link in the bio or send me an ask!

Please do not steal or repost my works. Reblogs are welcome.

This was actually a request. But I can't fir the life of me find the person who requested it. I hope you see it babes❤

#steve rogers x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #captain america x you #captain america x reader #steve x reader #steve Rogers x you #avengers x y/n #avengers x you #avengers x reader #marvel x reader

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tendermiasma · 3 years

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i’m not even into overwatch anymore but i just wanted to say I ADORE your art style and hope to develop my own into a similar semi-realism leaning...have you made a post about your art journey? I’m assuming I just need to buckle down and do anatomy studies but any tips are very welcome!! Ty for your time <3

Oh man thank you! I’ve never made a comprehensive post about how I got to *gestures* whatever this point in my art this is, and I definitely sat here wondering what “art journey” means for me since I always feel like I’m stumbling around so I’ll answer as completely as I can. But a great way to develop a realism-minded eye is to draw from photos and life. Everyone in the world has said it over and over but it really gets it done, it’s not any more complicated than that. It’s how I started when I was little and it’s not something I planned, but the Legolas posters were right there so how could I not? Your own non-realism “stylistic” touch will bubble up whether you want it to or not and that’s a beautiful thing. It’s not something you need to look for because it happens on its own, whether it’s you seeing something another artist is doing that you like and assimilating it into your work, or it’s your own unique way that you absorb information from the world and use it to solve problems in the drawing in front of you. Some new artists also still have the idea that using references is cheating-- I’m not blaming them, sometimes this weird thing is circulated by more established people as well-- but this is a very small minority. Please use references. I’d be lost without them. The Castlevania team has a giant collection of references for faces of every character from every angle, props, etc. and I always have a second screen up with 10 different sheets of whoever I’m drawing. Feeding yourself info is essential to getting better. Look at how other artists handle something you’re having a problem with too. If they’re doing a similar pose or something, study their drawing and ask yourself what specifically, extremely technically about that drawing is convincing-- what marks are where, and what is the quality or direction of the strokes? Try it out on your own drawing. If you’re stuck, become aware of if you’re holding on too tightly to what you think something should look like. I have to remind myself this as well. Really try to let go of the idea you have in your head about how something works and simply try instead to draw what you see, even if it feels weird. The results are often pleasantly surprising.

I have a funny relationship with studies. You seem to be looking at them like a chore and I feel the same way. It’s impossible for me to sit down and just draw something over and over, disconnected from emotion or a larger narrative. I think a wonderful way to “study” is to incorporate those studies into a project that you wanted to do anyway. I’ve used my minicomics to get better at background painting or specific figure poses that I needed for the story but wasn’t sure how to do. I’m a very “oops I need it now better learn TODAY” kind of artist, if that suits you better than buckling down and doing anatomy studies for hours. Both are great ways to improve, but you have options for how to get there.

In terms of how much time I spend drawing.. well lol it’s a lot. I almost typed “but I don’t do it every day” but yes, my jobs have made sure that I do (I tend to separate personal drawing and job drawing). But the truth is, to get better, a lot of very focused drawing time is important; how much of it is up to you and your schedule. You can sit down for 6 hours and doodle or you can sit down for 3 with an extremely critical eye. It’s about the volume of time as well as focus and I don’t have a clear answer for it, but I can point to one specific year in my life where I made artistic progress like I’ve never seen from myself since. I drew a comic with regular updates during that time and, looking back, the art was not good. But the point was, I was drawing for 7 hours a day after work, at least 5 days a week, and actively looking to draw things that I hadn’t done before or knew that I wasn’t good at, and the result was that every single update was almost like it was drawn by a different person-- readers noticed and commented on the progress as well. It was very much an art bootcamp and I wouldn’t have the skills I do at this point if I hadn’t done it. It’s important that you’re loving what you do if you do it for yourself! That’s how you get through big projects and continue to be excited with where you are. Love is one of the most important motivators and discipline-keepers in art, in my experience. Draw what sets your brain on fire and attack it wholeheartedly even if it’s really weird or niche, not what you think you should be drawing, and you’ll improve a million times faster.

Art journey in terms of what I’ve done with my life (if this is what you meant from the beginning I’M SORRY I’m just trying everything you might have meant) uhhh I haven’t been to art school. I have no idea what my relationship with art would be like now if I’d had any formal training and I don’t really dwell on it. I could either be a testament to being able to get by without it or an example of someone who has no idea what she’s doing at all and lacks many basic foundational art skills. I have an architecture degree. I love architecture, I love the language of space we build for ourselves, and I’m truly, deeply glad for that eye-opening and often grueling experience, but I think my current field is a much better fit. Before animation I worked as a graphic designer mainly drawing storyboards for commercials and internal-industry stuff-- lots and lots of quick colored sketches (one of our main clients was a big glass company and my god I never thought I’d draw so much glass in my life). I was able to do that job due to the skills I developed through personal work. Maybe I’d be a hundred times more powerful if I went to art school! Maybe I’d be completely burned out and bitter and not drawing anymore at all! I just don’t know. I have friends who have had both experiences. Whether you choose art school or not it’s best to keep tabs on if the art you’re currently making brings you joy. Joy and struggle aren’t mutually exclusive. Oftentimes I’m drawing something I care deeply about but it’s VERY FUCKING HARD and I’m frustrated but it’s worth it.

I also do everything while being very scared of the thing. I have a lot of deep-seated anxiety that I’m constantly trying to root out and my brain compulsively twists things around into why I can’t do something, why people secretly know I’m below-par and are just too nice to tell me, how I’m “tricking” people into thinking I’m better than I am, etc. It’s so bad that my first thought when I was initially offered the art test for my current job was to say no; not because I didn’t want it so badly it hurt, but because I thought I’d be too much of a disappointment. After completing the test I spent an hour figuring out the most gracious way to apologize for not being enough. It’s common, but not something to accept and we’re all working on it. I just thought it was important to mention because art is also a mental journey and forces you to do all this navel-gazey shit in order to advance, and feeling like you are Not Enough is rife in the creative community. The work feels entangled with my value as a person because art is a massive part of my life. Something I’m learning is that I don’t have to be confident or sure of myself all the time. This ensures that the process is usually painful and frightening. Often there’s no way to make it less painful or frightening, and I just have to hold my breath and do it. An oddly comforting thing to me the past couple years is to remind myself that the scary thing I’m about to do won’t be the scariest thing I’ll ever do. I implies both that this isn’t the pinnacle of my progress and also that I will inevitably get over it. If you continue with art you’re going to run into things like this and I guess if it was me it would’ve been helpful to know I’m not alone in it.

I hope that maybe answered some of your questions, maybe? If you have some specific questions feel free and I’ll try my best. Hope you have a good day/night!

#anon #asks

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senadimell · 3 years

Text

The Mysterious Benedict Society as an adaption

So far, The Mysterious Benedict Society adaption feels very faithful to the books. There are definitely changes (Constance, for instance, has been aged up, and likely has a different background. This is understandable. It would be nigh impossible to portray her as she is in the books in live action format--for example, none of the kids in the book suspect she’s a toddler, let alone two years old). However, most changes have all felt reasonable and add to plot and pacing.

I especially enjoy the additions: showing the adult side of the team, for example, or Ms. Perumal’s growing concern about Reynie’s whereabouts, or the girls’ nighttime conversations. Some changes are more extreme. The Mr. Curtain of the books is clearly a villain. He’s condescending and rude, and the only people who like him are bullies. Mr. Curtain of the show is much smoother. It’s easy to see how he’s managed to influence people. Similarly, the L.I.V.E. curriculum is much less obnoxious in the show (not just memorizing nonsense by rote), and as a result, the school’s students seem less stupid and cruel. You can see why they enjoy attendance.

I’m particularly pleased that Number Two’s weirdness has been amplified. Mr. Benedict’s found family is delightfully strange, and I love watching their unusual rhythms. It will be easy to believe when (or if) it’s revealed that the women have been legally adopted into Mr. Benedict’s family.

Similarly, I love how they intensified the quirky feel of the setting and characters. Of course Number Two built a house in the woods in a day because she has a woodworking hobby. Of course there’s secret tunnels and drawers and compartments in Mr. Benedict’s house. Of course Milligan’s disguises and mannerisms are wackily memorable instead of just matter-of-fact. The books themselves have a stylized feel at times (they kind of remind me of Lemony Snickett’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, though with none of the grimness).

I love the overall aesthetic. When I first read the books, they didn’t strike me as being set in the past, but the vaguely vintage feeling works excellently. (I was also a fully grown adult before I realized that the Incredibles wasn’t set in the present, so...) The color schemes, costumes, and sets have distinctive feelings and coordinate well. The effect is stylized rather than naturalistic, which is appropriate and amplifies the tone of the scenes. The bright colors and rough textures of the wooded hideout and its inhabitants’ costumes contrast nicely with the clean lines of tL.I.V.E.’s vintage-pastel interior and sleek exterior.

I also enjoyed the way they did Kate’s flashback as rough home footage. Similarly, I enjoyed the way they showed four kids solving problems on the same screen, how they illustrated Reynie’s thought process with overlaid sketches of the problems, and the way words show up on the screen during the tests for emphasis. The combination of animations, showing multiple things at once, and creative angles for emphasis did a great job conveying the feeling of the tests. (Unfortunately, I lack the vocabulary to describe the techniques they used here).

There’s two things I didn’t enjoy. The first was killing Sticky’s parents to make him an orphan. It mattered in the books that he felt rejected by his own parents. Making it his aunt and uncle who (seemingly) care more about money and fame than the child they’re raising feels a little too much like the wicked stepmother trope. I don’t know why the showmakers decided that Of Course They’re All Orphans, because while most of the book characters are orphans, Sticky isn’t, which serves to show that you can feel rejected and hurt by your parents even when you’ve got an ordinary, non-abusive nuclear family. It’s about feeling isolated, whether or not you’re technically alone.

Secondly, all the wheelchairs have been removed from the adaption. I’m not sure why this was done. Sticky’s mother has bad arthritis and requires a wheelchair. In the books, this was done without fanfare; it was as normal as anything else to oil Ms. Washington’s wheelchair in damp weather, or load and unload it from cars in later books. She was more of a background character, so it didn’t affect the plot, but the casual background representation was a welcome contrast to many books that assume being disabled is strange and uncommon, and that disabilities only exist when they’re plot-significant. The aunt who replaced Ms. Washington used no mobility aids, which disappoints me, especially as the woman she replaces in the books is ultimately shown to be a flawed but loving parent who’s dedicated to making up for her mistakes.

The other person missing their wheelchair is Mr. Curtain, the villain. I’m also not sure why this was removed? It could be to avoid the Evil Disabled Villain trope, but in the book, I didn’t feel like his disabilities were treated as a moral flaw or an excuse for his villainy. He shares his narcolepsy with the unquestionably benevolent Mr. Benedict, so it didn’t feel like his condition was used to vilify him.

He and Mr. Benedict act cope with their condition differently: Mr. Benedict relies on trusted family members for support and chooses to sit on the floor and avoid positioning himself in tall places from which he could fall, whereas Mr. Curtain disguises his narcolepsy by wearing mirrored glasses and using a wheelchair that secures an upright posture, so that no one knows when he has an episode. He does use his wheelchair aggressively, banging through doors and zooming around and forcing people to jog and keep up, but it felt like his use of mobility aids grew naturally from his character.

The books also include a scene where he shocks the children by leaving his wheelchair to chase them. They assumed that using a wheelchair=completely unable to walk, a common view in US society. Importantly, I didn’t feel like the scene was framed as particularly deceptive, like he was lying to them by using a wheelchair when he could walk. Rather, it fit into a pattern of Mr. Curtain managing assumptions and expectations: he doesn’t want people to take advantage of his weaknesses, yet wants to hold a few cards close to his chest. He doesn’t have to lie to people, just let them see and hear and assume what they will.

I don’t use a wheelchair or have narcolepsy, so I’m not in a position to say whether or not the books have good representation. Maybe the fact that Mr. Curtain is evil, and also zooms around and bangs through doors, is uncomfortable. Maybe the fact that his nefarious devices are wheelchair-accessible and in fact designed around his chair sends the wrong message. Maybe using mobility aids to conceal a disability sends a bad message, or maybe it would be better if the good guy was the one to use a wheelchair to cope with his disability. I don’t know. I do know that Mr. Benedict’s condition is played for laughs in both the book and show, and that might be uncomfortable. I do think it’s worth noting that Mr. Benedict’s narcolepsy is seen less and less as funny as the books go on, and grows to be seen as an endearing quality that emphasizes how much he loves people, since his attacks usually underscore with strong emotions and convey worry for his loved ones or joy at their company.

My own sense is that both approaches to narcolepsy make sense, and neither is shown to be inherently faulty. Rather, it’s Mr. Curtain’s character that’s to blame for his villainy--his arrogance, condescension, and mistrust. Both characters feel well-developed and consistent, and their disability is only one part of them. Their disability is colorful, but it’s colorful in the same way as the main characters (Sticky’s anxiety and memory, Kate’s gusto, eye for measurement, and bucket, Constance’s precociousness, etc).

As for why Mr. Curtain’s wheelchair was cut, I’m not sure. Maybe the show writers just didn’t want to deal with the ramifications of depicting a villain in a wheelchair, and decided to cut it altogether (a lazy reason, I think). Alternatively, it seems like they’re depicting narcolepsy without cataplexy, eliminating the need for a wheelchair (a better reason).

On the other hand, Mr. Curtain’s attitude and mannerisms bear the least resemblance to his book counterpart of all the show’s characters. They’re incorporating some backstory from the other books to build a secondary plotline, and I’m not sure how it’s going to play out. From what we’ve seen of him so far, S. Q. Pedalian is also drastically different (shy, cloistered, and openly acknowledged as Mr. Curtain’s son, instead of the gregarious, bumbling, misfit Executive of the books). The TV dynamic between him and Mr. Curtain is largely unrevealed as of yet. Since these changes constitute departures from the book, I’m not sure how the future story’s going to play out around them, and what that reveals about why the wheelchair was cut when it was so characteristic of Mr. Curtain’s mannerisms while other things (like Mr. Benedict’s use of plaid) were included.

Still, it does disappoint me that two wheelchairs were erased, and no one in the show uses one, not even background students.

Overall, though, apart from the orphan and wheelchair situation, I’m very pleased with this adaption and think that the pacing works wonderfully. It’s a near-ideal format for a video adaption (I think animation would be best, but this is a close second).

#the mysterious benedict society #the mysterious benedict society adaption #tv adaption #the mysterious benedict society show #ledroptha curtain

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dindooku · 3 years

Text

As a young student studying Criminology, Gotham was the perfect place to study the thoery of crime. But, that didnt come without it’s own risks. Without your intention, your life becomes intertwined with another’s; a life you had so vehemently tried to repress - and now it was within your grasp; the opportunity held upon a golden pedestal, just waiting for you to take it. In your own desperation to fend off the demons tormenting your soul, can you overcome the very thing your swore against? Or will you succumb to the darkness? When had being bad ever felt so good?

Rating: M/E (swearing, triggers, panic attack (not explicitly said) - alcohol abuse (OC isn’t an addict but doesn’t display healthy relationships with alcohol) - please read the tags. this fic is going to be very dark and twisted so please be warned in regards to further chapters

word count: ~5k

You needed this.

By fucking god you needed this.

You could blame it on your studies, your recent move to Gotham city to study your Masters in Criminology; the perfect setting really. And you could blame it on your stressful move; the house that you're renting not being anything like the photos you viewed online - the water-damaged walls and the odd-looking array of bullet holes in the front room, and maybe even the questionable red stain spotting along the cream-turned-brown carpet towards the bathroom.

But most of all it was this.

Moving to Gotham was the worst-best thing you have ever done. It'd do leaps and bounds for your research and personal evolution, but it was also becoming more and more apparent by the day as to why the little flat you lived in was so cheap; having an address with anything to do with Hell on it was probably a good indication.

Flat 221B, 36th, Hell's Kitchen, Gotham.

Yeah. That's why you fucking needed this.

It was an absolute shithole. You'd only been here for a week and you had experienced more crime than you had been privy to when studying at home. It was a catch 22, move to the most dangerous city you can think of and get 1-1 experience in crime, collecting data for your dissertation; or stay at home, go to a safe city and become some pansy police officer who refused to get their hands dirty.

You were always one for taking risks.

So, as you downed your last home-made margarita and stuffed your bits and pieces into your shoulder bag, you were off out the door.

Tonight was a field day; an excuse to go out and get absolutely trollied all in the name of science. It was just getting late, the sun had set a few hours ago and the Gotham nightlife brought the streets to life; ironically, considering the insanely high murder rates. Some would call you mad, a single, young, attractive woman walking unfamiliar streets at this time of night, in Gotham. And you supposed you were. See, the only reason you were studying crime was out of pure fascination. Fascination, yes. The theory of it, really - how the human mind comprehended such decisions and why you lived in such a society - who branded these rules? Desperation was a word you liked to play with. Its meaning subjective depending on your own reality, really. You had always seen the world differently... criminals weren't inherently bad people to you, they were just often misunderstood, brandished, acting out of desperation at someone else's greed. Obviously, you had the complete and utter fucking mentalists, but even then you could find an argument in their favour - like the Joker; he was misunderstood, torn and thrown around like a rag doll until he made a stand, a particularly violent one, but a stand nonetheless; a stand out of desperation to be heard, to be understood. And deep down you resonated with his actions, being driven to the extremes to be listened to.

You knew exactly how he felt. You had the scars to prove it.

Enough on that, though; you're here for a good time, right? Right. You're going out to forget about the stingy shithole you'll be returning to once the night bleeds into morning, to forget about the mountain of case studies you've yet to work through. It was all a bit overwhelming; thus solidifying your burning need to procrastinate and forget about it all, and what better way to do it than get black-out drunk in a bar you've never been to before?

You weren't an alcoholic by any means, you didn't rely on the sweet burn to see you through the days, but that didn't mean you couldn't revel in the double-ended spear of its toxicity - drinking so much to forget, but its effects only temporary. You were a student, after all, you had to live up to the stereotype?

You scoffed at the thought, murmuring out loud, "Fucking hell." Ok maybe you needed to slow down a little bit... you put the hipflask back in its pouch whilst you continued to walk to your third bar of the night.

You were on a pub crawl of sorts, embarking on your own little quest to scout out the best club in town for further investigation. You were just balancing on that fuzzy tightrope between bliss and blindness, the perfect haze to blur out the dangers of the night and warm your skin despite the bitter cold. You were in your own little world it seemed, and as a bright neon sign for a secluded back alley club came into view, you knew you had to investigate.

"Card." Came the burly voice in front of you. You had to crane your neck up to meet their eyeline, trying your best to pull a serious face and not laugh at the imaginary comedy sketch playing out in your mind.

"Card, you mean ID?" You ask, one eyebrow furrowing in question. You had all the relevant stuff, and deep down you'd be offended if they didn't ask, you'd only just turned 21, a few months ago in fact.

"No, Entry Card, VIP." He reiterates, crossing his hands in front of his chest. You scoff at the idea that a place like this required VIP cards to get in. 'Really? They'd have to pay me to not go in, ha' you humour to yourself, finding the joke a little too funny in your drunken state.

"What's so funny?" The man asks again, a bit more aggressively this time, like he knew you were mocking him in your head. And you were. You knew you shouldn't push your luck, his size easily outmatching yours. But fuck it.

"Nothin sweetheart, just surprised 'tis all," You tease, rolling your eyes as you put your ID away and prepare to leave the queue.

The bouncer can't help himself, "Surprised?"

"Mmm, yes, surprised, or disappointed? You choose." You smirk as you turn away, hips swaying in a drunken swagger that you would never normally possess. Something about you tonight just screamed fucking goddess - and 'don't fuck with me else it will be the last thing you do' - you didn't know why; you were in no state to start a bar fight and win. Maybe it was the tight, black faux leather flares and wrap around corset that filled you with a placebo pill of confidence; but by god did you have a stunning poker face, one that seemed to have caught the eyes of someone other than the bouncer you were antagonising.

A whistle stopped you in your tracks.

You stood on the edge of the pavement, back to the club, your hair flowing slightly in the wind. You tilted your head slightly towards the sound, your minimal movement the only sign of your acknowledgement. You really hated catcallers. It was one of the few things that would really wind you up, your short and temperate anger fizzing and popping under the surface.

"Let her in." Came a new voice. You turned around, eyes landing on an unfamiliar face. He was a tall guy, with an ice-white buzzcut and a sculpted face sporting scars; new and old - his brows knit into a harsh line and his piercing gaze instructing you with just his silent intention. You decide to play along, smirking back at him as you turn and saunter your way back to the entryway. As you walk past the bouncer you position yourself against him, slighting a faint touch of your body to his, sure to leave a whisper of your perfume lingering in the air as a sort of poisonous parting gift - a nicely packaged fuck you.

Your pupils instantly dilated to the sight laid before you. Ok, you take it back. This was no dingey club. Your skin was coated in an inciting shade of red; the coloured theme of the club. It was stimulating, the atmosphere - reigniting that previous cockiness you had been secretly harbouring through the night and twisting it into something still unfamiliar to you, the inner thrumming residing behind your naval indistinguishable from the music reverberating around the club.

The man who had whistled at you had disappeared, so you took this as your opportunity to grab a couple more drinks, to scout the club, of course...

You sauntered over to the bar and after a moment of getting yourself comfortable on the stool, locked eyes with the bartender. They didn't hold the same ferocity as the man before, and you felt your outer guard falling slightly at the soft tones lacing their eyes, their general aura giving off nothing inherently dangerous. They walk over, one hand wiping away at a newly washed pint glass with a rag.

"What can I get you?" They ask politely. They seemed young, too young in fact to be working behind the bar, but now wasn't the time for serious investigating - you highly doubted he was underage, just in fact sporting an inherent babyface. You smile sweetly back at the bartender as you purr your reply, "Whiskey on the rocks, please."

"Oh? Honey that's strong?" He questions, an eyebrow furrowing at your request. You giggle at his innocence.

"Mhm, make it a double." You smirk, and he only reciprocated, pouring a double and a little extra.

"You're new 'round here, aren't you?" He states as he passes over your drink, and you nod as you take a sip, soon following up with a further reply, "That obvious?"

"No, I just would've remembered a pretty face like yours if you'd been here before." He flirts, leaning down onto the bar, elbows sitting comfortably on the dark mahogany surface - it was a tactical move, you knew it, he was getting closer to you by the minute and you noticed his blatant interest the moment he locked eyes with you. You'd play along for a little while, it was good practice anyway, investigating.

You smile before replying, a brief pause between sips to sell your contemplation, "I can tell you're not one for wasting time..." You pause, implying silently for his name.

"Alex." He smirks, holding his hand out to you. You shake it, surprised by the dexterity. But as you thought things were going well, he pulls away sharply, his gaze dropping from you as he scurries back to the other side of the bar nervously. Your face scrunches in confusion, wondering exactly what you'd done wrong.

A firm hand around your waist answers your question.

The presence of another behind you makes you tense momentarily, their forward nature catching you off guard. A hand swirls around the small of your back, stopping at the natural curve of your waist, their palm sitting comfortably in the dip as their fingers latched into your exposed skin. The grip is tight, possessive - possessive for someone you didn't even know the face of. Your nervousness quickly turns into a tizzy, frustrated at the being behind you and their audacity to hold you so. You twist, turning your head to meet the side of their face, eyes rough with your bubbling anger.

The sharp-edged, stubbly profile of a man greets you, a little too close for comfort.

"Alex, two of whatever she's ordered on me, 'kay?" The man says. You roll your eyes at his cockiness, picking up your whiskey glass and downing the rest of the hot honey, burning your throat in the process - but you invited the pain, it's scorch momentarily masking the uninvited heat that was building elsewhere.

"I can order my own drinks, thank you." You scoff, sliding off of the barstool and away from his grasp, picking up your bag so that you can leave.

The man scoffs, using one hand to bring the red-tinted shades sitting on his nose sliding down, tilting his head to give you a better look. You turn and face him at the wrong time it seems, interrupting his very blatant scan of your form. You scoff at his actions, turning harshly to go, muttering to him as you walk past him and towards the exit, "In your fucking dreams."

Yeah - you tell him, girl. Too fucking right, that's what he gets for...that. Maybe you were overreacting, but the way your skin heated like wildfire at his unexpected touch, the way the previously dormant thrumming deep within your stomach tinged with a spark of something you hadn't felt in a long time, a feeling that was unfortunately not one of pleasure to you - you panicked. You'd never reacted like this, but something about his presence was just dominating your senses and you had to get away, to clear your head; maybe it was the alcohol, you didn't know - you didn't care, you just wanted fresh air and five minutes to get whatever the fuck has come over you out of your system.

"I see manners are not your chosen language," The man jokes, but he doesn't bother hiding the icy bitter frustration at your rejection. But you carry on, moving away from his ensuing footsteps.

"Neither are they yours," You retort, turning the corner towards the back exit. But you don't make it to the back exit. The scarred man from before moves from the shadows and grips your upper arm, swivelling you in one motion to face your incessant assailant. You don't give him the privilege of your attention, instead choosing to stare wide-eyed at the ground. Your bubbling anger evolves into something more pertinent, more feral, "What the fuck is it with you guys?" You spit, trying your best to yank your arm free. It was no good, every time you moved his grip on you tightened.

"That's no way to speak to a kind gentleman, is it darling?" The stubble-haired man chides, waving a hand in a dramatic swish as he talks.

"You and gentlemen is a bit of a reach, don't you think? And kind too, don't flatter yourself sweetheart -- hey! Let me go!" You scorn, yanking away harder. Your heart was starting to race now, the phantom ghost of familiar brutish hands that had hurt you before were blurring with your present reality. You couldn't go through that again, no. You'd moved away for a reason, even if it were disguised by your University Degree, the real reason was to get away from him.

Your change in body language seemed to shock both men, and soon the bearded man orders the other to let you go.

"Zsasz, let her go." He says sternly. As soon as his grip is off of you, you practically run to the bathroom, locking yourself in the stall. You close your eyes. You were trying so, so hard to help yourself, but it was just not to be. The last 12 months come crashing down on you, and you were helpless against the murderous gravity of it all. Your panic quickly turned into terror, and no matter how hard you tried to suppress the overbearing feelings blistering your heart, their clutch was now embedded into your conscious and they were working their way out, ripping and tearing, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake. It was brutish, the power of it all; how after all this time those short few moments held such a crippling power over you, a power no matter how hard you tried to overrule, decimated you each and every time. You're so caught up in your emotions that you don't hear the lock on the bathroom click, nor do you hear the faint rustling of a velvet suit making its way towards your stall.

However, you do hear the tap-tap of leather-coated knuckles against the door.

"Fuck off," You spit, not even attempting to mask the raspy panic between each word. The other person didn't say anything, and silence engulfed the room momentarily, only the occasional piercing sounds of your choked panic ripping the hazy-yellow neon light animating the bathroom. The clink of glass to wood brought your head up, your attention distracted and now upon the glass of whiskey being slid underneath the door.

"A peace offering," A familiar voice clarifies. You snatch up the drink and down it in one, desperate for a distraction; a controllable discomfort. You cough roughly at the strength, the new soreness from your rasped panic mixing distastefully with the burn from the alcohol - note taken; don't ever do that again.

You take a second to let the burn cool before speaking, "Thanks...for the drink."

He doesn't bother with a reply.

Another few moments pass and you feel you have yourself under control. You take in a deep breath and straighten your clothes out as you stand, brushing the stray hairs from your face and trying your best to look presentable despite the absence of a mirror. You unlock the door and move to step out, hand holding the empty glass out aimlessly for the other man to take.

He doesn't take it.

You furrow your brows and pause in your movements, and it is only now you chance a look into his eyes for the first time. The moment your eyes meet his, you regret it. Not because you're scared or frightened, no; you regret it because you know those are eyes you will forever see in your dreams. This man's eyes told you similar tales of the navy shores from home that you had often resided to in search of peace, the lighter hues telling tales of the midwinter sky you would doze under; and the occasional slash of cobalt reflected the darker depths of his soul, mirroring the light of unnamed stars. His eyes painted your soul in a colour you'd yet to see, a colour only he could grace you with, and it made you weak.

You were transfixed, held stationary by his unspoken authority. He raised an eyebrow at you, his understanding all too clear. You broke from your haze and scuffed, a hot blush creeping over your tear-stained cheeks.

Embarrassed couldn't even cover it.

"Fuck," you whispered, wiping away once again at the drying streaks of once warm tears on your cheeks. "FUCK!" You shout louder this time, chastising yourself as you come back to reality. What the fuck are you doing? You're stronger than this?

"How about we fix you another drink, hmm?" He says. You chuckle as you pinch the bridge of your nose, the heavy daze from the whiskey starting to mount its assault on your senses. Fuck it, you came here to get blackout drunk, so you're going to get fucking blackout drunk - for free by the looks of it.

You roll your shoulders and pick your head up, holding it high. "Sure, ugh--?" You say, holding out your hand to shake his as you hint for his name.

He replies with a smirk before turning you towards the door, catching himself before he places a hand at the small of your back, "Roman, Roman Sionis."

"Well, Roman, how about a pitcher or two?" You challenge, "Ever drunk with a student before?"

He didn't reply instantly, but you didn't let him, storming confidently out of the bathrooms and to the bar. You honed in on Alex, and at first he looked excited to see you, but as you approached he saw the darkness in your eyes and instantly knew you were'nt to be messed with. He poured a double shot of Vodka and Coke as quick as he could; it didn't even reach the counter before its contents were emptied by yours truly and slammed back onto the mahogany.

"Another." You growl, and Alex doesn't hesitate, the next drink landing in your hands within moments. You sink this one like the last, face maintaining the deadly glare it had held since you entered the room. Roman was soon at your side, marvelling at your drinking abilities; it was scary actually, how you managed to down your alcohol with such ease, expressionless. His grin faltered on your fourth shot and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, breaking your anamatronic trance and stealing your attention to him; that's better - Roman always got what he wanted, and he wanted you. He raised an eyebrow at your anger, wondering how he could capitalise on this and turn the situation in his favour. But for some reason, he hesitates; the thought of being cruel to you made his skin shiver in an unpleasent way - oddly. See, Mr Sionis was a criminal, a violent, feral monster who, if he did not get his own way, or was undermined or disrespected, made sure that those were the last things said person would inflict - for disrespecting the King of Gotham's underground was a penalty punishable by death. A slow, torturous death, courtesy of his own cynical ministrations. He was the Black Mask, and the Black Mask felt no mercy. Why should he sympathise when he could not receive such pleasures? Others can't have what he cannot, that simply is not fair, its preposterous. And like the narcissistic bastard he was, he reasoned with this part of himself, convincing the little golden figure sat perched on his right shoulder that he was doing the nice thing by not kidnapping you right now and keeping you for himself. Something about you was different, he could sense it - he recognised the brutal blaze swirling in the depths of your eyes. They reflected his own - murderous. And that's when the little red devil on his left shoulder made their attendance known, reinforcing Romans suspicions. This girl had the devil in her, the same devil within him.

"What?" You asked, incredulously. Roman had been staring at you for longer than was comfortable, and you knew he was deep in thought over something. His eyes flicked like an old VHS tape, his physical thoughts and their direction reflecting in the depths of his scrutiny over you.

Roman grinned at his plan. He had to have you, but he knew now that forcing himself was not an option - he had to wait for you to come to him. And what better way than to get someones attention by no longer wanting it? It was the ultimate power play he thought, his excitement at the idea of you being his under your own intention ignited a blistering fire of self admiration within him - Roman Sionis was a fucking genius he thought, no, he knew.

"Nothing Darling, ciao." He replied smugly, his lips stressing a shit-eating grin at his own devious plan. He waltzed away from you to find Zsazs, desperate to let him in on his incredible plan.

You scoff at your dismissal. The fuck was all that about?

Rolling your eyes, your turn to Alex. You take a second to allow the room to catch up with you, "Did you see that?" You ask Alex, moving your head slightly to the side in a nod towards the now retreated Roman. Alex scoffs, placing a pint of water on the bar in front of you. You cut him a look of displeasure but knew you should probably slow down if you wanted to get back safe tonight.

"That guy, my dear, is Mr Sionis." Alex said, lifting his brows as at your confused look.

"Mr Sionis...right, and he is...?" You say, waving your hands in a confused manner.

Alex looked stunted, but continued to serve a few orders before continuing his conversation with you, "Well, Mr Sionis is the owner of this club."

Your eyes widen at the realisation, "The owner?" You mutter.

"Mhm." Alex hummed, amused.

But the conversation took a new direction, a direction Alex was not expecting.

"Tell me about this Mr Sionis, Alex." You murmur, gliding into your soft, convincing voice you used to get information about men.

"Well, he's the owner of this club, and my boss. He pays well." Alex starts, trying his best to close of the conversation.

"Hmm, yes; but what about him? What type of person is he?"

"I don't think--,"

"Alex," you growl, darkly. Your face dropped the sweet smile it had held before and Alex visibly winced. He knew he couldn't say too much, and he didn't know much either, but he also didn't know you, and if living in Gotham had any perks; he knew those eyes - they were the eyes of someone you did not fuck with if you wanted to keep breathing. So, Alex moved across the bar, leaning in on his elbows so he could whisper to you over the loud music; where only the two of you could be heard.

"He, he has a particular personality - colourful, bold,-" Alex starts, his eyes shifting past your figure a few times to make sure he wasnt being watched, "-Possessive. He gets what he wants - always. And he will do anything to do so, there's no limits with the guy. You fuck up, you're done."

"Done?" You whisper back, leaning in closer to Alex, only a hairs breath away.

Alex stalls, trying to find a way to answer your question without sinking himself to that fate. But he doesn't get the chance to, as you're pulling away and turning towards an unknown figure behind you.

The next few moments were a blur.

The next thing Alex knew, there was a face being buried into the hard mahogany of the bar, and the loud crack of the mans nose being broken shook Alex from his trance.

You moved so effortlessly, your movements only so perfect through hours of repetition. You didn't even stumble, and with the effectiveness of your ruminations, practically no attention was drawn to the now escalating scene at the bar.

"On what fucking planet is it ok to grab anyone like the way you just groped me, huh?" You whispered into your assailants ear. They whined and coughed, shifting under the mounting pressure you were placing at their shoulder. You had grabbed them by the arm the moment you felt their hand sliding across your ass, and the quick pinch had you seeing red - moving through muscle memory and destabilising the man by using his own weight against him. He was now bent over the bar, head buried in broken glass, his shoulder ready to pop at any moment. He was at your mercy and your blood turned primitive. You'd had enough of creepy perverts tonight.

"The fuck is wrong with you lady? It wasn't anythin' bad," The man groans, blood pouring from his nose and staining the white shirt he was wearing.

You pressed harder, muffling the pop of his shoulder joint and his cry of pain with a loud laugh, "Say, Frank - how bout you walk out this club now under your own premise before I have you wheeled out in a bodybag?" You sigh.

"The fuck, how'd you know my name was Frank?" he growled, grunting at the pain.

"Not only are you incredibly rude, but you're also rather obnoxious too, you fucking loser." You sneer, shifting his dislocated shoulder further round. He screamed, but only briefly, as you soon shut him up with a face full of glass.

"Fuck off, Frank, and don't come back."

You release him and he instantly turns and scampers away like the injured hyena he was. Rolling your eyes you turn back to Alex, who's eyes are wide with shock.

"Alex..." You mumble, and he gulps, his eyes searching yours out of panic over what you'll do next, "Just fix me a drink and I’ll be off. Sorry for the mess." You say calmly as if nothing happened. And that's the way it seemed, as no one even batted an eyelid to the violent display from moments ago. Alex says nothing but does as he's told, making you up an extra strong rum and coke. You down the drink and place the glass down.

"Where's the emergency exit?" You ask Alex, and he points to the door behind the bar. You smile, sliding him a small tip - hush money - and exit the building.

You made it about five minutes down the road before things began to get weird - real weird. This wasnt the same type of blurry you got from alcohol, this was colourful, dazy.

"Fuck - that fucker drugged me!" You sneer, words merging together as you propped yourself up against a brick wall. You tried to run over the events in your head, wondering where you tripped up. And then it hit you, the pint glass - when you leaned in to talk to Alex, he’d slipped something in the drink.

"Fu-cckk" You mumble, eyes incredibly droopy now.

You needed to get back to your flat, safety - yes.

But you didn't, as when you tried to move your legs they gave out from under you. This was an incredibly dangerous situation for anyone to be in, especially a young woman on the streets of Gotham. But the drugs worked quickly against your system, and before you had any time to prepare yourself for your inevitable demise, you blacked out

#roman x you #roman sionis smut #roman sionis fanfic #roman sionis x you #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis #roman sionis fanfiction #black mask fanfic #black mask fan fiction #black mask x reader #black mask #ewanfuckinmcgregor #ewanmcgregor #ewan mcgregor

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stuntgirlatthevampiremansion · 4 years

Text

To the Rhythm of the Ocean

Pairing: Jake Kiszka/reader

word count: 2,226

warnings: first person POV, the reader is mentioned to be an artist and bisexual but it is not important to the plot. Other than that its just a fluffy day at the beach. 😊

A/n: at last, I finally wrote a fic. It is extremely self-indulgent and was inspired by some anons that @safari-karrot got that I definitely did NOT send ;). I also want to thank Kate for being my beta! I worked pretty hard on it and im proud of it. Hope you enjoy!

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Walking into the elevator of my apartment complex, I was able to let my shoulders relax and my guard down for the first time all day. The day at the studio was intense today, and for all the wrong reasons. No matter how much I tried, I wasn’t able to create anything, as if all of the motivation and drive to do my work had burned out. I was burnt out. I was lucky enough to score an apartment next door to a pair of twins, Jake and Josh, who quickly became good friends. And even more fortunate, they had come back home this week from recording with their band, which meant I could spend my afternoon with them instead of alone in my own apartment.

I entered my house and set my bags and work down on the dining table. It was impossible to make out where the table was under pile of unfinished sketches and work plans, but that was a tomorrow problem. I put on the kettle to make some tea and shot Jake a text asking if I could come over.

Jake... in the last couple of years that i have known the twins, the have become an indispensable part of my life. We take turns cooking for the three of us and hosting movie nights, an even go do laundry together. Having them away for so long felt like a hole had been carved out of my soul, and it also made my harboring crush on Jake ache deeper and deeper. He was unlike anyone I had ever met, we understood each other in a way I never thought I would have with anyone, yet he was still an enigma. He was insanely talented and driven, and he was smart. And kind. And funny. And extremely easy on the eyes. I would never tell him this though, his friendship is all I can get, and I’ll learn to live with that.

His text came back telling me that his door was open. I finished and drank my tea, washed my face, changed into more comfortable clothes, and made my way next door.

When I came into the twins’s apartment Jake was sitting on the sofa playing his guitar, a small notebook sat on his lap. At my entrance, he sent a smile my way, but continued playing.

“Where is Josh?”

“He’s out filming. Why, did you need him?”

“No, just wonderin’.”

“You know, if you just want to hang out with me to try to get into my brother’s pants, you could have just told me. And I want no part of it. Here I was thinking we were best friends.” He teased and wiped fake tears from his eyes, but his smile said that he was just messing. That did not, however, stop my nerves. Best friend.

“I do not want to get into your brother’s pants, Jake. They wouldn’t fit me.” I took of my boots and plopped on the couch next to him. “I’m your best friend?! What about Josh, Danny and Sam?”

“That’s different, they’re my brothers.”

“Hm... I guess you’re a fine friend too, one could even say the best one I’ve had.” Friend.

“And the best one you’ll ever have.” He set his guitar down to his other side, “how was the studio today? Any new paintings?“

I let out an exasperated sigh “I wish. I am incredible burned out, I can barely even pick up a pencil! I have gotten close to nothing done all week and Rachel keeps asking me out, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Rachel? What did you say?” If I didn’t know better I would’ve thought I saw pain flash across his face.

“I told her no, but that is besides the point. I’m just so out of it...”

“You do look like you need some adventure.”

“You could say that”

“You know what?” He got up from the couch and pulled me to stand with him. “I’ll give it to you. Go get dressed, I’ll get everything ready.”

“What? Where are we going?”

“If i tell you it wont be a surprise. Now go to your house and get ready.”

“Then what do I wear?”

He seemed to think about it for a while, then said “something comfortable, but tropical.”

“Jake, that tells me absolutely nothing—“

“You’ll figure it out. Now leave, and don’t come back unless you’re on party business.” It was futile to keep going so I just stuck my tongue back at him and walked out of the door and into my apartment.

I settled on wearing a short blue sundress, boots, and a pair of sunglasses. I walked back into his apartment to find Jake in the shortest shorts i have even seen him wear, an unbuttoned white shirt, and his signature combination of necklaces and a bucket hat. “Are those Sam’s?”

“No, I own shorts too.” He put down two boxes on the coffee table and looked me over once. “That is exactly what I meant! Now carry this to the car.” He handed me a box full of snacks and drinks and we made our way down to the car.

I rode shotgun. He still refused to tell where we were headed. No matter how much I pushed and tried to wear him down, he just said to wait and find out. We got busy talking and listening to music and I gave up asking. Instead, I admired the scenery passing around us, and I admired Jake, with the windows down, his hair wild in the wind, and rocking out to our playlist. He had the ability to make me happy by just taking me on a drive. He didn’t even have to try.

Eventually the buildings turned into trees, and the trees to palm trees, until finally we arrived at a clearing by the ocean. Jake parked the car, “We’re here!”

“You brought me to the beach!” He brought me to the beach! The ocean! The one place I loved most in the world. “I could marry you right now!” I threw my arms around him and jumped out of the car. My boots were off in a second and by the next my feet were already in the water. Jake did the same before joining me at the shore.

“So, was it a good surprise?” I could hear his smile without even looking at him. And he knew the answer before I even spoke.

“The best! Thank you, Jake. Really.”

We set on an easy pace through the shore, side by side. Each picking out seashells and skipping rocks on the water. The sun wasn’t unbearable, for it was afternoon. The sky was blue and almost cloudless, the only thing that altered it were the shapes of birds flying overhead. The sand was coarse and stuck to our feet, but it wasn’t burning. The sea... it was an array of the bluest blues one could imagine, all coexisting for our pleasure. Jake was glowing, and I must have been too, I was incandescently happy.

Back at the car, I set out our snacks and liquor while Jake put in some music. Halfway through our first meal and first bottle, Jake turned up the radio, and waited for my reaction.

“I love this song!”

“I know you do, thats why I put it.” He took our food and put it away on the roof of the car; and for the second time today, pulled me by the hand to stand. “let’s dance”

His touch sent electric currents up my back. Best friend. “this song isn’t danceable, Jake!”

“It is if we want it to be.” And he held my hand in his and dragged me towards the clearing. The breeze was calming, the sea was a splendid blue. The waves lapped at the shore, not strong enough to disrupt our song.

Turns out, the song was danceable after all; and so were all the others that came after it. We held each other while we took turns twirling and laughing, belting our lyrics and acting out the drama of the songs. Every lick of his fingers on my skin left a burning sensation, yet I couldn't get enough. If he knew what this was doing to me... If he knew I was drunk on him and falling on every shared glance, every smile, every touch.

The sun started its descend and our dancing got closer. He held his hands of my waist, my chest pressed against his, my hands on his shoulders as we swayed around our little ballroom of a clearing. My spine tingled, with every inhale, I got drunk in his scent of pine and peppermint.

We got lost in our dancing, and then he got lost in the horizon. The sky had started to turn all shades of orange and pink, the water glimmered upon our eyes like tiny mirrors. A pelican flew over us and dived into the water in search for dinner.

We had stopped moving, yet his hands remained placed at the small of my back, he looked at ease. My fingers twirled a strand of his hair, he didn’t mind.

He looked like he belonged in the landscape, to the oranges and pinks that tinted the sky, he belonged to nature.

And I belonged looking at him, within arms reach yet so unattainable. He would always be a mystery. There was always more to him than met the eye, and even after years of knowing him, I hadn’t deciphered him completely. And I didn’t intend to, he was just like that. And he wasn’t mine to understand like that.

If all I would get were stolen glances with the setting sun as out witness, I’d take it. Because right here, right now, the sight before me was one to behold. Jakes eyes were transfixed on the horizon, his mouth agape. The sun was finally hiding behind the waves, which mean our day was coming to an end. I tried not to think about it, I wouldn’t let the sun steal the light of this day from me. Ocean breeze ruffled his long hair, and as I saw the last light of day melt into his golden brown eyes, I knew that home wasn’t a place. Home is a person. And he was mine. But he would never know, for I doubted I’d be his.

I was thrown out of my daydream when he slightly pulled back and chuckled. “ So home is a person, huh?”

“I— “ I said that out loud. Shit shit shit. I just stared at him like a deer in the headlights. There was no way to dig myself out of this, so I remained silent. Though my hear was beating like a drum and I was certain that he could feel it due to how close he still held on. Best friends don’t say that.

There was a shit-eating grin on his face, one that said he certainly knew what was going through my head. Instead of taunting me further, he said the words I’d most longed fo hear.

“Then you are certainly mine”

Nothing could stop the smile that broke out across both of our faces at that. “And you mine”

Before he had time to reply, I grabbed his face and pulled his lips to mine. There was static in the air, his lips were incredibly soft and tasted of coffee and chocolate. His mouth moved with expertise against mine, he held me close. Closer. Closer even still, until there was no space left between us. My heart was pounding, he licked at my bottom lip asking for entrance, which I gave, and deepened the kiss. My hands held on to him tightly, as if he would disappear would I let go. He dipped me slightly and I swore I would fall on the sand if he hadn’t held me. The purple sky could’ve turned bright yellow and I would have paid no attention.

We pulled apart for air and the sun was completely gone.

“Jake, I—“

“I know, I feel it too. I have for a while.”

“I was so scared that you wouldn't. Ive felt this way for you for the longest time, I—”

“But I do!”

“But you do!”

He pecked my lips and whispered close to my ear “And if you want, we’ll make it official. Right now. You and me, and a million sunsets to come.”

“I’m yours for as long as you want me, Jake.”

“And I’m yours forever, y/n. Even when i’m far away.”

No words could describe what I felt. It’s as if my blood was replaced by honey and my ribcage contained the moon in all her love and glory. “I wish I could stay here forever, in this moment. With you, and round the world.”

“Check the trunk.” He smiled too wide and untangled his arms from mine.

I reluctantly let go of him and walked towards the car. He tossed me the keys and I popped the trunk open to see the second box Jake hadn’t let me look into. I opened it and found all sorts of camping gear: One tent, two sleeping bags, toiletries, even pajamas. Jake creeped up behind me and slid his arms around my waist. I turned around with an incredulous grin.

“Is that a tent?!”

“That is a tent, sweetheart.”

The end.

—- A/N: I literally CANNOT write unless its in 1st POV. This is 100% self-indulgent, and I have no idea how to write a kiss. Hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!

#Jake kiszka x reader #Jake kiszka/reader #Jake kiszka fic #Jake kiszka imagine #jake kiszka #greta van fleet imagine #My writing

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okayto · 3 years

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Mini-Review: Kakushigoto

Kakushi Goto is a weekly manga artist known for definitely-adult titles. Worried that will alienate or embarrass his daughter, he’s determined she’ll never find out and pretends to be a regular businessman in front of her. But as she grows up, this single dad struggles to keep his secret while giving Hime the best life possible.

Thanks to @feychannel for recommending this to me! I wouldn’t have picked it up otherwise, because I assumed from the description that a lot of jokes would be sexual in nature.

But no, the joke of the series isn’t that Kakushi makes his living drawing dick jokes, the joke is that he’s a bundle of overthinking anxiety bouncing between “my daughter must never be embarrassed” and “my art is crap” and “if I don’t learn how to fry chicken my daughter will never enjoy life” and “my art will never meet my expectations.”

(He’s very relatable if you’ve ever done any art whatsoever.)

There’s a definite wink-wink jokey feeling in the multiple bits that deal with the manga industry and artists: whether it’s attempting to use pencil sketches as the finished product because inking always takes something away, asserting that All Manga Artists are degenerates, explaining “it’s an editor’s job to make sure creators don’t get what they want” because creators given free reign will produce something with too-niche appeal, etc. Since the series was originally a manga, I’m assuming that the creator was having a great time spoofing his own job.

(Or, as a review on Anime News Network put it: “That's definitely the hook for the show. Come for the cute father-daughter bonding content, stay for [original creator] Kōji Kumeta roasting his own profession like he's tailgating.“)

(Luckily for those of us not in the know abut manga-as-industry, helpful voiceover explanations are built-in to explain the jokes, but in an intentional way that just adds to the humor.)

Kakushi essentially has two lives, and the series follows both: first, his professional life as a manga artist, run out of an apartment studio where he and his 4 assistants work; second, his home life with daughter Hime, an adorable and kindhearted--though somewhat airheaded--little girl whose father, as far as she knows, is a generic businessman who leaves the house in a suit and tie every day.

Kakushi is determined she have the best life, and that with the presumed death of her mother at some point in the past (we don’t get details until the final episode, but it’s clear early on that the mother is out of the picture and has been for a while), he does his best to make sure Hime gets all the normal support and events expected, even though society is set up to assume a 2-parent heteronormative household, which sometimes throws a wrench in his plans--like when he’s not allowed to take a cooking class because too many men were signing up to hit on the instructors.

And yet, Hime continues to be a happy, healthy child, and Kakushi continues to draw manga while refraining from murdering his semi-useless editor.

Verdict

English dub? Yes, and the voice acting is excellent, particularly as needed to convey Kakushi’s wild games of connect-the-dots. My friend @feychannel watched the original Japanese, and said the English version did a great job matching the same tone.

Visuals: Pretty, clean lines

Worth watching? Heck yes. It’s a recent show (2020, with the dubbed episodes being completed only a few months ago) and complete (with a good, wrapped-up ending) at 12 episodes. It was extremely worth watching, very funny, with enjoyable characters. For all of Kakushi’s specific anxieties and jumping-to-conclusions about how something might affect Hime, he was a fun, smart, snarky character. Kakushi’s not alone--a lot of other characters similarly jumped to conclusions in very fun, comic ways.

There are a lot of jokes in the series, and hats off to the translation and writing team that had to make them make sense in English. The series does a good job explaining things when needed, and I never felt the need to look something up for more clarity. (At the same time, after finishing the series it was fun to read the Wikipedia page that explains how many character’s names are puns, something that just doesn’t work in English.

For example, “Kakushi Goto” is a double pun first on a word for secret (”kakushigoto”) and working as an artist (”kakushi-goto”). His daughter Hime’s name is another word for secret (”himegoto”), assistant Ami Kakei is word for cross-hatching (”kakeiami”), etc. A subtitle does explain the Goto puns in the first episode, but I forgot about that until now. Not getting those puns did not in any way lessen my enjoyment, though, since I found the show hilarious without them.

Where to watch (USA, May 2021): Funimation (sub and dub), BR/DVD

Click my “reviews” tag below or search “mini review” on my blog to find more!

#Kakushigo #Kakushigo: my dad's secret ambition #anime #reviews #recommendation #Kakushi is such a good dad

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hmgfanfic · 3 years

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Talk about all the Fillory worldbuilding in LQoF, please :)

THIS IS INEXCUSABLY LATE. I’m so sorry!

And I wish I could say it was just my scatterbrainedness, which is definitely a constant factor, but it was also that when you sent this, I was deeeeeeeep into writing the final few chapters of Little Quirks of Fate and I was kind of... in my head about it. It took a lot longer to finish than I had planned (a cardinal sin to my particular combo of severe ADHD and Type-A personality) and I was spending excessive amounts of time making sure I figured out a satisfying ending by my own exacting standards, so I just didn’t have the headspace to think through my early process yet. Very sorry about that :( But now that I’m finally done, I’m excited to look back! So if you’ll indulge me a very late answer, I’d be tickled. 💗

Long ramblings and major fic spoilers under the cut.

The truth is a lot the world building came down to character stuff foremost, followed closely by my preferences as a writer. I adapted the world to the story I wanted to tell, while using the little bits of information we’re given in canon as a baseline, rather than building the story around the world. And that was a lot more fulfilling for me, since I only really love worldbuilding through the lens of character, rather than as an exercise unto itself (though it’s super fun once you get rolling.)

To explain what I mean by that, you need to know that Little Quirks of Fate was originally going to be a oneshot. My plan was about 25-30k (lol) of a pure S2 retelling, only with Quentin in the role of Fen. It was also going to take a much more traditional enemies-to-lovers’ path—with Quentin as an active member of the FU Fighters—and the whole thing was going to be in his POV. Also, they weren’t even going to kiss until after the bank heist (which, yes, was going to be a thing here), but that got abandoned the fastest in favor of trying my hand at smut. But two things made me realize I needed to significantly shift course:

1) I was struggling to make Quentin actually feel like Quentin. I wrote this very atmospheric early scene at the FU Fighters encampment, with lots of description of the bonfires and the way their shirts dyed in Fillorian red looked like blood (you get it.) It took place in the black of night, shrouded in secrecy, and when Bayler questioned Quentin about his new husband, Quentin said something like, “He’s a drunk idiot, we have the advantage.” It was all very lush and dramatic, but it really, really, really didn’t feel like Q in any recognizable way to me. Now, I’m not someone who thinks Q needs to be a precious sweetheart all the time, but what I was writing didn’t have his idiosyncrasies or a motivation that felt true to who I feel he is.

2) The draft was DEFINITELY missing Eliot’s story and his perspective. I certainly don’t think Eliot’s POV is always necessary (sometimes not having his direct thoughts heightens tension in romance especially), but it felt really necessary here, to fill in the gaps of what Quentin was assuming and also—more importantly—because the events were just as impactful on him, but in a very different way. So I knew I was missing half the narrative, but that meant I would need to deal more explicitly with the Beast (i.e., Mike, the most devastating storyline to me, personally) and I really, really didn’t want to do that.

My first step in making a more recognizable Quentin was figuring out a way he could more or less use the same syntax that he does on the show. Voice is the first way I connect with a character, so while many writers in this fandom thrive at modifying speech patterns and keeping the heart of a character alive, keeping close to Quentin’s canon speech was an easy fix for me in a story I was excited to get rolling. Sort of like the old adage of uplifting your strengths before putting outsize energy into things you struggle with.

The easiest way I could think to give him the same syntax was to figure out a way Quentin spent some significant time on Earth during his formative years. And once I rewatched 2x06 and was reminded that Ess went to Phillips Exeter Academy for high school, I lost my damn mind. I started sketching out ways that Quentin could get there too and that’s how I built out the idea of Umber brokering a marriage deal with the actual landmass of Coldwater Cove, which included an education opportunity for the boys (in a nod to Fillory’s patriarchal nature), and also the reason why Umber did that, which was to take advantage of his brother’s orgy mistake with the first Children of Earth to usher in a more productive and orderly Fillory. So that created a whole new set of rules and essentially a whole new world for me to play with... all for the sake of Quentin getting to say “fuck.” It was that important to me. :p

And as I worked through all that, I realized I also wanted to give Q magic, since Quentin’s relationship with magic is something I’m interested in. But I had read on ye olde Tumblr that the reason Illario uses a wand in 2x06 is a nod to the books, where Fillorians specifically aren’t Magicians and that’s the rationale for the Children of Earth royalty. And while I generally see the books as interesting supplemental material with zero bearing on the television show canon, I still said to myself, “Self, wouldn’t it be kind of funny if Quentin was the only native born Fillorian who had magic and so the FU Fighters believe he’s the chosen true High King, but instead of it being because he’s ~special~, it’s because Umber made a clerical error? Lol! Hilarious!”

So while all my questions for how to explain all THAT spun out into more and more detail, at the same time...

I caved to the idea that this story was going to be a No Beast AU, just like my last two stories, mostly because I really couldn’t bring myself to deal with the Mike of it all, even tangentially. I could have just changed that single element, but I’m not a half-measure gal! But I still wanted to stick with the vague background theme of Fillory = adulthood from a questing perspective and I wanted Julia leading the charge this time, but without the sexual assault that occurs in canon. So obviously, the answer was avenging all of the murdered and cannibalized “grown-ups,” i.e., master Magicians, by seeking out help from the gods in a balanced Fillory free from the devastation of the Beast. Duh! ;)

So then, like anyone would do, I rewatched every episode up to 4x11 that makes a mention of Fillory and took about twenty pages of notes on the canon worldbuilding, along with an analysis of how much a particular piece of information would be impacted or not by balance in the realm. For instance, the existence of geraniums (per The Fillorian Candidate and Tick’s misunderstanding of “power plants”) and the lack of diamonds as a precious stone (per the River Watcher not knowing the value of Margo’s earrings in Knight of Crowns) struck me as static facts unaffected by Ember’s reign of chaos. But I shifted the overall feel of Fillory to one that’s more functional and a lot more bureaucratic, leaning on things like the existence of socialized health/vision/dental insurance (the idea of which is canonical, per a petition from the beavers requesting dental coverage from acting High King Josh in Ramifications), strict taxation plans, and an overall sense of thriving Ceremony to show Umber’s influence.

Basically, I wanted Eliot to inherit a much, much easier Fillory to rule—especially with the highly educated Quentin as a built-in and passionate advisor—mostly so it wouldn’t completely strain credulity when a lot of his energy goes toward his love life rather than the intricacies of ruling (though Margo would say he still favored his personal life more than he should have, and she wasn’t... wrong. He wants to be a husband more than a king!) But I specifically made it so most of the chaotic elements were played as whimsical (sorry) quirky shit or smaller hints of greater injustice (see: Ember getting rid of STDs, but still letting magic-poor citizens die of sepsis because that’s too boring to deal with), all while a cataclysmic danger lurked under the surface.

After that, I just filled in details as they worked with character stuff and plot stuff, and I tried to make sure they didn’t contradict each other in a way that couldn’t be chalked up to “chaos.” I basically lived with the Fillory map open all the time and also took screenshots of Benedict’s map of Loria, which gave me alternate ideas for the overall feel of the landmass rather than just the kingdom. And pretty much that’s the basic process I used to create the world! It was extremely fun, and I learned a lot, though I’m *definitely* focusing on some pure relationship kind of stuff for a while because... oof, sometimes it was a lot.

Annnnnnnd if you’re still with me, here’s some stray observations, for funsies:

I wanted Quentin and Eliot’s starting points to be more mature than in the show. Quentin when we’re introduced to him as an adult in LQoF is a lot more jaded and cautious than S1 Q, which is because in this world, his S1 mentality happened while he was on Earth and came to a head during the throes of his fucked up relationship with Bayler. Similarly, Eliot had already gone through a lot of shit too, and was much more self-actualized by the time he agreed to be High King here than in the show. It was still out of desperation for purpose, but not coming out of a direct trauma spiral. I think if they had been younger, both in age and mentality, the story wouldn’t have worked because they would’ve blown it up day two. They’re both still disasters, as we like to say, which is why the... everything happens, but they’re not disasters in the exact same way as in early canon. I thought of them as closer to their S3 selves, pre-Mosaic.

While I mostly kept Quentin’s syntax the same as on the show, I did change it up in some ways to reflect his Fillorian upbringing. The most obvious was replacing “goddamn” with “godsdamned” and “Jesus” with “Hades,” but I also made him slow on the Earth idiomatic uptake and slightly more likely to use passive voice and less likely to use contractions, especially early on and especially when speaking with Fen. He also said slightly out of date things even for someone who last remembered 1999, since Earth was still overwhelming despite his immersion. E.g.: In the epilogue, he asks Eliot if he can spend some time “Googling the World Wide Web” instead of watching Gossip Girl together, even though by 1999 most people were saying “on-line” or “the internet” by a pretty wide margin. But in my mind, the first term he learned was World Wide Web and he stuck to it like glue.

I originally had a full-blown coronation scene, where Quentin helped Eliot with the answers to the 90s questions via subtle charades, such as flapping his hands at his sides to give him the answer “Wings” (and Eliot was eventually going to Eliot-Logically use that moment to argue to Quentin that maybe Q really is the true High King since he was the one who actually answered the Knight’s questions, etc.), but I cut it and only showed bits and pieces in flashbacks because it didn’t really matter. They had to treat it seriously because it was An Event in this version of balanced/un-Beasted Fillory, with a full audience bearing witness, but the whole thrust of the external plot was about dismantling that moment and the concept of monarchy in general, so giving it too much weight outside of the Eliot and Julia friendship felt disingenuous to the story I was telling.

This is also why it was important to me that Margo hated the title High King Eliot the Kind, even though I only brought it up textually once or twice. But in my view, she fucking hated it and never came around to it. Which isn’t because she doesn’t think Eliot is kind, it’s that it felt like a simplification of all that he is, and the coronation ceremony in general felt similarly shallow. It wasn’t just the four of them working out their shit on the beach; it was true ceremony after a year of questing toil and a lot lingering uncertainty/resentments (especially regarding Julia), so it was too Big Shiny Happy Bow to her.

Yet on the same theme, my greatest regret was not being able to work in the fact that Margo’s title for Penny (King Penny the Persistent) was supposed to be half-sincere and half-sex joke. She did genuinely admire that he stuck it out even through his initial heartbreak because he gives a shit about his people underneath it all, but—and this is a very important headcanon to me—she admired his dedication to the art of the female orgasm even more.

I was originally also going to include the One Day More sequence with way more details—such as Umber taking the Javert lines, Ember taking the Thenardier lines, Bayler taking the Enjolras lines, and Penny taking the Marius lines, but... uh... writing a musical number is apparently not in my skill set. Also, honestly, the weirdness of the original is its whole charm and so I didn’t want to improve upon perfection. See also, in a more serious way: Eliot bowing to High King Margo on the Muntjac, the events of Plan B, and Quentin & Penny in the Flying Forest. Would not touch it!

My favorite Fillorian detail was either the guy who sent a citizen petition requesting a “smidgen” of Eliot’s earwax for an undisclosed purpose, or the use of the verb “to peg” to describe a Pegasus flock greeting an outsider with honor. They encapsulate the obscene yet pristine feel I always tried to give Fillory.

My favorite subtle(-ish?) ironic moment is Ess, the heir to a hereditary monarchy, taking Quentin to task for not honoring the anarchy patch on his high school backpack. In general, I don’t like everything being neatly resolved, including on an overarching world level. And I very strongly felt they had ZERO business meddling in Loria, so it left some fun-to-me unanswered questions. Will Ess usher in democracy for Loria based on his experiences on Earth? Maybe! Maybe not, since tradition’s a hell of a drug and Loria has its own history and complexities. Who knows?

I misread the town name Sutton as Sultan on the map the first time I referenced Bayler’s hometown (Sultan’s Ridge), but instead of going back to fix it, I just made it a sister town. Whatever!

I do not know how Quentin got a full bookshelf of Earth literature back to Fillory with him. Magic, I guess. (That’s the answer to anything I didn’t totally think through.)

I occasionally get asked whether Quentin and Fen were physically related. The answer is no, though it doesn’t totally matter. But I intended heart-cousins to be more like close family friends. (Though I actually originally had a joke where Eliot still wasn’t sure by the epilogue, but it didn’t land/feel realistic so I cut it.)

The details of the magic frequency poisoning were DEFINITELY what I thought through the least. My main goal was to have something catastrophic happen to Fillory based in part from the historical actions of the Children of Earth and Ember, patently ridiculously but with lasting consequences. Hence, god orgy that took away Fillorian human magic and sent out a slow poisoning of the overall magic “frequency.” It sounds all well and good, but it’s definitely something that would fall apart with even the lightest bit of prodding. It serves it’s purpose though, so I figured the gaps could be filled in or politely ignored. ;)

This question was way too much fun and a helpful retrospective for me! Thank you so much for indulging me, many moons ago. 💗

#little quirks of fate #harri writes #anon asks #ze process #<3 thank you i love you #this one is a long post even for me #dialogue asker if you’re reading this you’re up next I promise!

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silverhandsass · 3 years

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My Beloved Intended (Part 9)

As Valerie's concerns eat away at her, she devises a plan and breaks the rules. Johnny faces a pleasant surprise.

(Regency AU | V / Johnny)

All current chapters available on - Ao3

— — — — —

For every single day they spent apart, Valerie couldn't help but worry. The roses in her room lasted only a little while before they slowly began to wilt. She made sure to take the one she'd worn in her hair and press it in a book. The rest simply faded day by day, reminding her that more time had passed since their last meet and that the wedding day grew ever closer. It was certainly bittersweet.

When they had just over a week remaining, Valerie began to hatch a plan. It all started with a letter to Lady Palmer, asking her for a favor. When getting the response she was hoping for, she had another letter sent. She had one of her maids send a letter to Mary, giving her specific instructions. That threw her nerves into a mix once more for the entire day as she waited for a response.

Later in the evening, a message was delivered in form of a small letter. Valerie took it to her room, stood by the fire and opened it. 'Tomorrow,' it said. Valerie smiled brightly and tossed the letter into the fire. She waited until every inch of it turned black before walking off.

—

The next morning, Valerie had spoken to her mother that she was to visit Lady Palmer. Her friend had sent an invitation for Val so that they may enjoy one final visit before her wedding. Her mother was pleased enough with the reason and had offered to join her, but Valerie insisted that it was not necessary.

It was truly not necessary.

As she hopped into Panam's carriage, she greeted her dear friend as they gave each other a knowing smile. "Are you ready?" She asked Val.

"Extremely. I'm... Rather anxious," Val admitted.

"You've damned the rules yet again," Panam grinned. "I admire your courage."

"It's less about courage and more about impatience," Val sighed, glancing out the window.

"I'd say you look downright concerned," she observed. "When I'd read your letter I could hardly believe it. Here I thought you were just another puppet, whisked away by a no-good worm of a man that would seek to domesticate you and hurt you 'til the end of your days."

Valerie paused. "Thank you?"

Panam laughed. "I mean to say I was wrong about you, and glad for it. You might be one of the only people who truly understands me and my distaste for the lives we lead. The others of the same mind are my servants. They ought to be my peers. When you told me you needed my help getting to Hartwell Inn in country hills, my day finally burned with excitement."

"You have not told anyone, have you?" Val asked, fiddling with the embroidery on her dress.

"Of course not. Do you think I would endanger such a deliciously devious event?" Pan asked, then chuckled at the look Val gave her. "My dear friend, you've entrusted me with this secret of yours, I would be but a charlatan to endanger you in any way. Besides, anyone that dares move against the world that has deemed us nothing better than accessories to a man's arm, they'd have my full support."

"Why had we not met any sooner, Lady Palmer?" Valerie smiled, taking her hand.

"If you call me that one more time, Valerie, I shall make you walk beside the carriage all the way."

—

By the time they had arrived at the Inn, the sun had all but vanished. The skies were pale and packed with clouds, and what simply was a faint drizzle had become a persistent downpour.

"Remember," Panam spoke a little loudly. "I shall retrieve you shortly after sundown if we are to get you home on time."

"You are a dear friend, Pan. I am in your debt for this—"

"No need to worry about that now, you must go!" She gestured to the door.

Val gave her a tight hug before exiting the carriage. Perhaps she should have thought about bringing an umbrella, though she did not expect such heavy rain. Thankfully, the path to the inn was not too far and she still had her hooded cloak. She rushed into the establishment, asking for the reservation.

Rose, they had agreed, was the name they'd sign it under. Much to her relief, there was already a room signed to that name. After being directed to the room, Valerie stood there, alone, taking a deep breath to settle her nerves. She had never, not once in her life, done anything of the sort. The study and Calhoun's were entirely different, as they were both within reach and easy to get to. This... This was deviation of a new sort and it scared her, but also excited her.

Knocking on the door, she opened it and walked in. The room itself was rather lovely and not too spacious. To the left was a fireplace that was fronted by a couch. To the right was the bed, rather large and covered in the fluffiest pillows and accompanied by two nightstands. Ahead of her, by an open window, stood the true treasure of the room; man she had been looking for. Turning around, Johnny saw her and smiled brightly.

He stood beside a table by the window, his hand resting gently against the back of a chair. The moment he saw her, he began to approach her. Val swung the door shut behind her and moved to close the gap between them.

The pair wrapped themselves around each other in a warm embrace, sighing in relief. For a moment, as they pulled away, they simply looked each other in the eye. A small smile here, a thumb's caress there, and Valerie found herself kissing him yet again. She could have melted in his embrace, her lips moving so passionately against his. He tasted of tea and berries, smelled of a warm hearth and pine, and felt like home.

Just as she held onto him so fervently, as her kisses grew urgent, he pulled away. His chest heaved as he worked to steady his breathing. "Wait," he whispered and held onto her still, brushing a lock of loose hair from her face. "I just... I want to see you. Speak with you."

Hearing those words, Valerie smiled warmly. "I do too."

"Or perhaps I should get you something dry to wear," he chuckled, pulled away to look at her fully. "What—did you swim here?"

"Hmm, very funny," she smiled.

"Well, no matter. This should be fine," Johnny said, moving to the table. He began to pick up the cups, dishes, whatever had been set out for them, moving it to the smaller table in front of the couch.

"What... are you doing?" Valerie asked him.

"The fire isn't going to come to us. You need to stay warm, dry off," he explained as though it were obvious. The moment Valerie tried to help, he frowned and pointed at the couch. "Sit." Once he was done moving everything over, he joined her, pouring her some tea and presenting her bowls of berries and cream. "It was clever, sending the letter through Mary."

"I'm glad it reached you well. I... needed to see you. Since we won't be having any gatherings before the wedding," she explained, picking up her cup.

"But my dear, it is terribly bad luck to see one another before the wedding," he chuckled.

"To hell with luck, we've been making our own rules from the start," she said, taking a sip and putting her cup down.

Johnny smiled at her and reached for her hand. "Thank you for meeting with me here."

"I needed to know you were alright," she replied, holding his hand with both of hers now.

"I am. So close to the wedding, it's... I've been keeping my nose out of trouble," he sighed.

"But my lord, that's where it belongs," she smirked, raising a brow.

"Truly heartbreaking, I know," he chuckled, placing a hand over his heart.

Valerie laughed. "Are you excited?"

"To get into trouble?" He asked.

"I was going to say about getting married but that bears the same meaning," Valerie joked.

Johnny let out a hearty laugh. "If it means more of that humor at my side, then yes, truly I am." That made Valerie smile and bite her lip a moment. His gaze lingered on those lips before he turned his attention to his tea. "So... About that kiss."

"I'm sorry," she interrupted. "I was simply so relieved to see you were here and doing alright, and then it just... happened."

"I do not regret it." He put his cup back into place. "My only contemplation is... Well, I mean, you were in love with him, Val." That smile of hers finally faded. "I just wanted to make sure that you knew what you wanted."

Valerie's eyes lingered on the fire a moment. "You know, for a long time, I did love him. I mean, he did make me happy. But ever since it all ended, I've had time to think and to see it for what it truly was. I was happy, but... It wasn't real. It doesn't feel real. Jeffrey... my first love? That was real. His promise, his intentions... But with Laurence..."

She took a breath, leaning back into the seat. "We'd meet at the same place, we'd make love, we'd talk, and I’d leave. Make love, talk, leave, over and over again. On occasion, he'd paint or draw me, though it was mostly sketches on paper that I now realize was probably not to waste any paint..." Valerie rolled her eyes. "But it was... meaningless. I was finding an escape through him and I thought it to be love, but... then I had some time to think. About love. About what it was."

"And did you find an answer to it? That very question ails many a man," Johnny raised a brow at her.

"It ails women too, believe me," Val laughed, looking at him. "All this time, I'd been looking for a husband. One man to spend the rest of my life with, to get to know him a little before marriage and to then learn more about one another and go through all of life's hardships together, as well as everything good that came with it."

She paused to pick up a berry, popping it into her mouth while she collected her thoughts. "I did not realize, in our arrangement, when we set aside those expectations from one another, we became friends. I enjoyed our company more than I've enjoyed any other in a long time. I've wanted to strangle you, to embrace you, to laugh with you, cry with you... I began to yearn for you even though we were already to be married."

Valerie decided to wait a moment, wanting to give him the chance to speak by going for her tea and taking a long sip. He did not speak, instead he sat there beside her, his breath slightly quickened and his gaze focused solely on her. "I hope that does not bother you," she began, "that I feel this way. I know it was not our agreement and I understand if you wish to remain... free..."

"Free?" He repeated immediately. "My dear, I have not known freedom, not truly, not until I met you."

Valerie froze.

Johnny got off his seat so that he could kneel in front of her and take her hands in his. "I thought freedom meant leaving my home whenever I wanted, filling my nights with inebriation and meaningless companionship. I've always been angry at many things in my life, at the injustice, mainly... but you... Oh, my dear, you've made me furious," he squeezed her hands with a cheeky smile. "You've made me feel so much more, and you've made me remember what freedom truly meant."

He took a breath, almost studying her gaze. His thumbs brushed over the back of her hands in soft, caring circles. "In the gardens, you asked me if I wanted to be free of you—love, I am free because of you. To know that in a week, we would be walking out into the world as one... It gives me hope."

"You said love," she breathed.

"What?"

"You called me love," she clarified.

He did not break eye contact with her. "I have never lied to you, I see no point in starting now."

Without warning, Valerie leaned in to kiss him—so hard, in fact, that she stumbled forward on top of him and tackled him into the ground. The pair of them laughed, a little winded by the impact. Seeing her above him, her golden hair curtained around their faces, he could not help but kiss her again, propping himself up on his elbows.

In their kiss, Valerie felt herself pulled into their passion, absentmindedly grinding her hips against his. The sound that he made was one she had never heard before from any man. It was enough to send her cheeks burning pink and her core flaming in arousal. He sat up with such strength that it pushed her onto his lap, before he moved to have them both stand.

He pulled her tightly against his body, simply holding her there. "Are you sure you want this? Here, now, with me?"

Val pushed herself up. "Yes," she kissed him, "Yes," another kiss, "and yes," she finished with a final kiss. That seemed to be enough to make him smile and embrace her. His hands rushed to her back to attempt to undo her corset, finding no strings or anything of the sort. Valerie pushed him away slightly and shook her head as she pointed down her front. Her bodice had been made with simple clasps hidden in floral embroidery along the front. When he looked at her quizzically, with a hint of excitement, she gave him a cheeky smile. "You did mention a simpler corset..."

Laughing at her comment, his lips crashed into hers and his hands fumbled with the clasps, undoing them so easily. With slow movements, he hooked the neckline of her dress and slowly pulled it down, his thumbs running over the sides of her ribs as he did so. The dress pooled around her feet, leaving her in only the thin, silken gown. Val's hands traveled down his chest and to his pants, finding her way around the buckles to give it a sharp tug. Then another. One more.

It wasn't coming loose.

The pair of them burst into laughter, Johnny's head falling into her shoulder a moment. "And you were complaining about my corset..." Val laughed, trying to give his pants a few more tugs but giving in to the laughter instead. Through their giggles, Johnny took her hands in his, leading them to where they were meant to go and showing her how to unlatch his pants.

One they were off, he had his forehead leaning against hers as he kicked them off to the side. Valerie moved her hands up to pull apart his shirt, resting the palms of her hands against his bare chest.

"Where else would you like to lead them?" she whispered to him, a delicious invitation.

There was a sparkle in his eye as he caught onto her meaning, his hands wrapping around her's once more. Without looking away, he slowly led one down his chest, across his abdomen and lower until it rested along his length. Val's mouth ran dry at the feeling of him beneath her touch. The moment she stroked him nice and slow, his hands moved to her arms. He let out yet another sigh of relief, his hips grinding into her palm.

Her fingers wrapped around him, doing what she knew how to do and caressing him—all the while watching every little way his expression would change based on where she'd touch. She could feel herself growing slicker and hotter just looking at him.

A few moments longer of this had him grasping onto the gown, tugging it up, up, up, until it was well over her head and off of her. She could have sworn that he staggered slightly, his eyes lazily dragging over every inch of her body. His hands were instantly cupping her ass, pulling at her in such a way that it hoisted her up. His hands slid down her thighs in time with her arms wrapping around him. Val let out a small yelp as she felt him carry her, her little shriek morphing into giggles.

She exclaimed in surprise yet again when he dropped her onto the bed, following her right after. There, nestled between her legs, he hovered above her and grinned. They had sunk into the soft mattress slightly, and she looked positively angelic to him in that moment.

"My dear, you look ravishing," he whispered to her, his face mere inches away from hers.

Her hand gracing his cheek was far too sweet a gesture for the words that came out of her mouth. "Then ravish me."

He could not have had a more enticing invitation, as his lips found hers without hesitation. His tongue danced against hers, exploring her and tasting her, before he trailed it along her jaw and across her neck. "As you wish," he mumbled against a breast before lowering even further to take a nipple into his mouth. Her back arched and her eyes closed slowly, a drawn out moan ringing out from her.

It was the first moan of pleasure he had ever heard from her, and it was music to his ears. Had he known she sounded so sweet, he would have fought harder to win her heart weeks ago. Sucking onto her breast, he ran the broad side of his tongue over the sensitive nub before moving slowly to the other, giving it a bit of attention. His hand took place where his mouth was previously, massaging her with care.

Valerie was moving and rocking beneath him, her body aching to continue to be touched. It was clear to him just how familiar she was to the world of pleasure, but there was one thing he wanted to do most with her—one thing he knew she might appreciate. He slowly began to move even further, losing himself into her sweet scent as he kissed her belly. He took a deep breath through the nose, nearly sinking into the bed and melting.

She had pushed herself up onto her elbows to watch him, her anticipation building so intensely she might combust. She watched as his arms hooked beneath her legs and his hands rested flat on her belly, and then her heart stopped. From just above the apex between her legs, he looked up at her and smiled.

"I should like to see you this way every morning, my dear," he muttered to her.

Valerie bit her lip so hard she might have started tasting iron. Her face was surely redder than it had ever been. She ran her fingers through her hair to get it all out of her face, finding it a mistake to do so as it was right when Johnny's lips met her clit. Losing her balance, she slipped and landed back into the bad, letting out a sharp gasp.

His slick, hot tongue stroked along the bundle of nerves without warning, flicking against it a few times before he pulled away with a suckle. Her hips tried to push and pull, to sway into his touch but he held her firmly against the bed by the abdomen. He then dragged his tongue from the edge of her entrance and up to the top, teasing her clit once again. He ran it along this way once more, and again, before sending his tongue as deep into her as it could go. He pulled away with a gasp as one would after taking a deep drink, hissing something about how delicious she was.

Valerie could have died right then and she would not have cared.

Her hands grasped tightly into the sheets as she moaned, unsure as to how long her eyes had remained closed. His tongue moved up to her clit again, giving her some long and painfully slow strokes. She had barely noticed the absence of one of his hands upon her belly, as she started to feel something teasing at her entrance. Val dared to glance down, seeing how his arm flexed and his muscles tightened to hold her down while his other hand had positioned itself below his jaw. A moment later, she felt his finger push into her.

Valerie cursed into the air, unsure as to whether it was the waves of pleasure or the mere sight of him tasting her so thoroughly that aroused her so heavily. He seemed so lost in it, as though it was the only thing that mattered and nothing else. Suddenly, a second finger went into her just in time for his tongue to move mercilessly against her. Her head thrust backward again as her back pushed up. The hand at her abdomen was now holding onto her thigh to keep her legs spread, a moment that was almost second nature to the man. His fingers hooked inside her, pushing up against her nerves and tugging at them relentlessly.

Feeling those intense waves of pleasure building within her, she reached down with a hand, tangling her fingers into his hair as she called out his name. His fingers thrust into her faster, his tongue worked harder, and he held onto her tighter just as her hips ground with each wave. When the climax finally hit her, her moans came out in shudders, more composed of heavy gasping and chest heaving than an actual moan. In that moment, every single inch of her body responded to Johnny, as though he had full control.

He continued to caress her, both inside and out, his touch slowing down gradually alongside her ecstasy. The moment her body lowered to the bed and her grasp loosened, he pulled away from her with a kiss and placed one more along the inside of the thigh he held. He let out a hum of satisfaction, slowly crawling his way up. She lay beneath him, panting heavily and her cheeks painted a deep red. The moment he was in reach, he leaned in to kiss her, hearing her muffled, tired moans against his lips.

Then, much to his surprise, she was motioning for him to pull away. She guided him onto his back and he began to realize what she wanted, and the thought made his cock throb with anticipation. Valerie laid down alongside him, her arms keeping her face propped just over his arousal while she lay on her side. Slowly, a little nervously, she took him in her hand and heard him gasp. Val looked over to him, not realizing just what an image she was creating for him as she brought his tip to her lips while looking him in the eye.

His breathing faltered severely, as did his composure. By God, if he did not spend the rest of his days making this woman happy, he would deserve every bit of the nasty fate he'd receive.

He had told her that what one would do to a man was more of the same as what a woman would receive, so she tried to follow that notion. Which was why Valerie ran her tongue from the underside of the head and over the top before taking him into her mouth again. That seemed to do the trick just well enough as it sent Johnny sinking back into the bed. His jaw worked as he tried to reach forward, deciding on grasping the covers beneath them instead. She was thankful, as his knuckles turned white from the tightness.

She continued to run her tongue over him, finding that the more places she licked him, the more reactions she'd get out of him. God, she'd never heard such soft, quiet moans from a man—it pleased her to know he was enjoying what she did, so she continued. When she pulled away for air, she stroked him with her hand, watching as he bit his lower lip and furrowed his brows, that little crease forming in between.

Seeing as how he was slick from her tongue, she gave it a try. She moved her lips to the head once more, swirling her tongue over the sensitive tip before slowly taking his length into her mouth. That caused him to moan a little louder, whispering words of encouragement to her. She pulled out slowly, tasted him once more, and then took him in even deeper. She continued this way, nice and slow, exploring him, finding out what made him tick, listening to him.

She soon felt his hand caressing the side of her body, finding its way between her legs. His fingers slipped between her folds, making her moan around his cock. She pulled away with a suckle, watching him slightly twitch at the sensation, so she tried it again. It was all the more alluring when feeling him touch her ever so slowly, that intoxicating pleasure building within her again. Just as she began to feel determined to have him find his release, she felt him begin to motion her to get up.

"Not so soon," he whispered. "I want to be with you."

Val licked her lips, seeing his eyes immediately drawn to the motion. He moved in to kiss her, taking over in that prospect with a sense of hunger he had never shown before. Moments later, he had led her onto her back once more and had mounted himself above her. His hands were constantly upon her in the gentlest touches he could muster. Beyond giving her pleasure, it was to move her hair out of her face or simply stroke it, or entwine his fingers in hers—simple little things.

She had never taken her time this way while making love.

Perhaps she had never properly made love before.

Her belly grew aflutter at the thought.

She felt him grind his cock against her slowly with such patient motions, she was sure it must have been killing him. It certainly was killing her. It made Val pull away from the kiss with a sharp nibble. "Johnny. Take me."

"Where would you like me to take you, my dear?" he whispered, running his tongue along her neck, making her whimper.

"To heaven, to the bloody moon," she whispered, "I want you, darling."

"Where do you want me," he demanded, teeth grazing at the skin above her breast.

"Johnny..." She begged breathlessly, "I want you inside me."

"And I want you around me," he replied, moving to kiss her as his hand guided his tip to her entrance. Looking her in the eyes, he drove himself into her slowly.

The pair of them gasped at the sensation, holding onto each other tightly as they adjusted for a moment, before Val wrapped her legs around him impatiently. Johnny moved to kiss her, losing himself in realization that they both tasted of each other. His hips rolled forward and he thrust himself into her, deep, deep, deep. The moment he pulled out of her, he could not wait to thrust himself back in, finding himself in a steady rhythm.

Val's hips moved on their own accord, wanting to take him in with each thrust as she moaned into the kiss. A moment later, Johnny pulled back from the kiss just long enough to bring his fingers to his lips—the fingers he had moved inside her. He took them ever so slightly into his mouth before leading them down to her clit. Val watched this with slightly parted lips, panting and moaning at what she felt only to feel like she was losing herself in pleasure once more.

With him thrusting inside her with such intensity, and his fingers working at her most sensitive spot, it did not take long for her to find her release again. As her insides tightened around him, it had him dipping his head into her shoulder, cursing and moaning at once. Val's fingers had just begun to dig into his skin at his shoulders when realization struck her. She moved her hands to his hair and the base of his neck instead, fingers wrapping tightly around his lush, black locks.

Tugging at his hair in such a manner tilted his head back and it seemed to do all the right things to him. He looked down at her, his eyes piercing into hers. She could feel it now. One hand moved to her thigh to keep her stable, the other had been looped beneath her shoulder, holding onto the bed by the sheets—tightly. His hips thrust into her faster, with more urgent strokes, and his moans began to grow a bit more vocal.

In the few seconds building up to his peak, his hand moved from the sheets to the back of her head, his muscles tensed and he pulled at her by the hip. Johnny buried himself inside her as deep as he could go, calling out to her as he felt a powerful orgasm pulsate through him. Moving once, twice more into her, he remained still, breathing heavily while feeling her hands moving from hair to cheek to shoulder.

Their moans sounded together, their breathing shared and their bodies entwined ever so tightly. Johnny felt himself nearly collapse onto her, holding onto his remaining strength by a slim thread. The second he had the willpower, he gave her one more lingering kiss before pulling out of her.

He dropped into the bed just beside her and Val moved to immediately rest against him, the pair of them still trying hard to catch their breath. His arms were immediately around her, hands brushing her hair back and caressing her body, keeping her close. Her hand laid splayed across his chest, holding onto him a moment before it went up to his jaw. Her fingers traced along through his beard until her palm cupped his cheek.

The same cheek that very hand had struck once. Something she wasn't sure she'd forget, nor forgive—both of which he had already done.

She glanced up at him and Johnny returned the gaze. The two of them said nothing, but they held each other close. They knew very well what this entailed, what this meant for them. They knew all too well, the words that did not need to be spoken between them just yet. It only made them all the more certain about the days to come. Certain about the single, most important truth about it all.

They were never to feel alone again.

#It is almost the end!#Also #it's burned #romance #smut #fluff #Johnny Silverhand #V / Johnny Silverhand #Cyberpunk 2077 #Regency AU #my fics #valerie rose palencia

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wakaoujisenhime · 4 years

Note

❤️ F!reader is sweet to her boys Shouto & Hitoshi. They know about each other, but rarely talk unless it’s about her. She always has songs stuck in her head, whisper sings doin lil dances while sitting, both think is adorable but don’t say it. She gets really hurt saving them, losing blood, they’re tearing up “why would you do that, dummy?” She’s singin “fuck apologies I would say I’m sorry if I really meant it” ☺️ happy they safe, she sleeps for a week, Toshi puts blanket on Sho, she wakes up

A/N: This is the first time I got a request in such a form, so I hope I understood it right and could give you the story you had hoped for! Please enjoy! (๑꒪▿꒪)*

Tags: Todoroki x reader ✅ Shinsou x reader ✅ SFW ✅ fluff ✅ slight angst ✅

image/art source: Pinterest (if you know the original artist please let me know!!)

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

The best sight one can wake up to - Todoroki and Shinsou x reader

Todoroki, Shinsou, and you.

Everybody from class 1-A and 1-C knew about the peculiar relationship the three of you shared.

On one hand, we had Todoroki, the young prince amongst the future heroes as well as Endeavor’s youngest son.

The cold and distant facade he had put up, broke the moment he first saw you smiling bashfully at him after he had caught you dancing on the school’s rooftop.

Why are you just standing there? C’mere and dance with me!

He wasn’t used to such a cheerful voice welcoming and even inviting him to an activity you apparently enjoyed so much.

On the other hand, there was Shinsou, the ambitious young man who was ready to give it his all, in order to become a hero and show the world that even someone from a less popular class could be on the same level as them.

You were the first person to ever truly grasp what kind of impact his quirk actually had on his life, while others simply said that he was unsocial and hard to get along with.

Is there a song you like? One that sets your mind at peace for example.

If there is, then I'd advise you to always sing it quietly to yourself...trust me, it helps.

What you had said was nothing but a simple comment with no real meaning behind it, but exactly that statement had changed his life.

And last but not least we had you, (Y/N), the girl that ran all the way from the support department to the future heroes’ classrooms to pick them up so that they could eat together during the lunch break.

Being a part of the class that had nothing but their inventions, there was no time for deeper friendships and everybody knew that...so how was it that you got along with the most unapproachable boys in your entire school?

It had still been a mystery to you, but you cherished those bonds nonetheless.

In the beginning, you had a lot of difficulties to even get Todoroki and Shinsou to meet up with you at the same time, one didn't stop complaining about how he didn't want to talk to any of those ’pompous asses from class A’ while the other didn't even bother complaining at all - he sighed multiple times instead.

But after you had expressed the wish of wanting to spend as much time as possible with the most important people in your life, they simply couldn't refuse you anymore.

They didn't talk to each other more than necessary and if they chatted then it would've been mostly about you.

”Look at her...sketching something and singing some random songs, completely unaware of her own cuteness.”

The first person to speak up was the red- and white-haired boy and it threw the other young man off, but upon seeing the gentle expression on his face Shinsou knew that both of them shared the same amount affection for you.

“If you think that’s cute then you should see the small dances she does when she’s sitting and sketching something, they are absolutely priceless and a must-see.”

Todoroki didn’t expect to get any kind of reaction from the purple-haired boy, but he surprisingly did and that made him feel like they had become a tad closer.

They were so embarrassed to have shown the other such a weak side of their own, so any other cute characteristic of yours wasn't discussed out loud, and telling it straight to your face had never been an option anyway.

A decision both of them soon regretted…

The teachers decided to send some pupils from each class on a mission to strengthen their teamwork as well as to prepare them for times during which they had to work with heroes they didn't personally know.

When you guys arrived on site, pro-heroes like Mt. Lady paired each and every one of you into groups of three. Fortunately, you were in a team with Todoroki and Shinsou which made you extremely happy.

Everything was calm and just like any other street patrol, no villain or suspicious activity in sight.

Then suddenly a tall and vicious man ran straight into you. Had it not been for the two guys behind you, your cute butt might’ve collided with the dirty asphalt.

You wanted to apologize, but the moment both of your eyes met he quickly backed away, taking a fighting stance.

”(Y/N)...get behind us.”

”Things are about the get ugly.”

It was confusing to you at first, but one look down at your UA uniform answered every possible question you might've had.

Nevertheless, you obliged and let both of them take care of the situation since they were the ones with the quirks.

A few minutes passed and the whole situation had escalated. Shinsou and Todoroki had tried to calm the man down and persuade him with words, but he was too agitated already and one just couldn’t get through to him.

As of right now, you were hiding behind a car watching the fight unfold. Not being able to help these two ate you up from the inside, but on the plus side, it also made you think of ways you could jump in and support them.

If there is one thing the students for 1-H should know, then it’s to never leave for a mission without their babies!!

Hatsume’s words seemed quite peculiar and funny to you back then, but now...you were extremely grateful for the advice. Right before All Might told you guys to dispatch, you made sure to pack some of your inventions with you. One of it was a handy machine gun that you conveniently managed to design in such a way that it fits into any pocket and upon pressing a small button, the item would unfold its massive size. Unfortunately, it was still a prototype and you hadn’t tested it yet, so there were bound to be some malfunctions that could even end deadly.

I have to at least help them somehow...no matter the cost!

You took all the courage you could muster and aimed right at the man’s massive frame.

“Shoto! Hitoshi! Move!!”

These two were lucky enough that your invention needed some time to heat up at first, giving them the opportunity to react and dodge the incoming rain of bullets.

———

“(Y/N)!”

“What were you thinking?!”

The voices that were screaming at you sounded so far away, yet they belonged to the two boys you loved so much. Right now they were crouching on each side of your body, holding it as gently as they could, in order to not make the injury - which was caused by your prototype of a weapon - worse than it already was.

Your gun’s recoil had been stronger than you’d anticipated and with its very first shot, it had hit you right in your abdominal region, the repetitive motion tearing up your skin, leaving nothing behind but a big and bleeding wound that was the cause of your sudden blackout.

With that small bit of consciousness, you still managed to hold on to, you listened to the nagging that was coming from both sides.

“How can you even bring a weapon to a mission you haven’t tested yet...let alone use it?!”

“We told you to stand back, so why...? Why would you do that, dummy?”

“What should I do if you had...died..? What should we do then, huh?!”

It was actually a very serious and sad moment to be in and that’s how you should’ve felt as well, but you didn’t. You smiled weakly and began singing in a low and raspy voice.

♪ “What you want from me...? I would say I'm sorry if I….really meant it…...fuck apologies I'm not perfect….I got pride...that's not what it is this time...so….” ♪

Before you could finish the song, the happiness that you were able to save them caused the last bit of power to leave your body and turn your vision blacker than the darkest night…

———

A week passed and you were still unconscious, worrying the two young men with each passing second, minute, hour during which their fear for you grew.

Recovery girl helped with her quirk as much as she could and even if she had healed your injury on the surface, the ‘waking-up’ part was entirely up to you.

They came up with a schedule and decided to take turns with visiting your hospital room, but one day when it was Shinsou’s turn he silently opened the door and the first thing he saw was the bicolored hair of a man he’d gotten to know more than he’d intended.

Did he...stay here all night?

With slow and silent steps the purple-haired man took off his jacket and covered Shoto as gently as he could with it.

Normally he wouldn’t have done that, but the time he’d spent with the both of you caused an unexpected change of heart.

As careful as possible he positioned a chair on the other side of your bed, taking your small hand in his own bigger one, silently praying to the gods for you to soon wake up…

———

The nurse that was assigned to you was quite astonished when she heard about your case.

An inspiring scientist, trying to become the first person heroes turned to when they needed any supporting item, was ironically hospitalized by her own invention.

The bitter irony behind it was not only sad but fascinating at the same time, but what fascinated her the most was the scene that played out in front of her right now.

You had woken up from your long slumber and were now grinning from one ear to the other.

Seeing that Shoto and Hitoshi had fallen asleep by your side was the best sight one could wake up to...

#bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #bnha x reader #mha x reader #todoroki x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha angst #mha angst #━𝙱𝙽𝙷𝙰 #━𝙼𝙷𝙰 #━𝚅𝙸𝚂𝙸𝚃𝙾𝚁'𝚂 𝙴𝙲𝙷𝙾 #bnha-simp-oclock

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

Note

Hello dear writer! Can you write scenario of Arthur receiving some wonderful news by reader about him becoming a father?

Hello, Anon! I certainly can, but I hope that those of you who have been pregnant or are parents forgive my extremely limited knowledge on being pregnant/giving birth. I have never been nor want to be pregnant so this might be completely wrong.

Warnings: swearing, childbirth

You wake up, the leaves whispering in your ear as they dance in the morning’s breeze. You’re on your back, Arthur’s arm draped over your stomach in his sleep. You smile at his sleeping face and lean over, kissing the tip of his nose lightly. You feel like you’re the luckiest girl in the world being involved with Arthur Morgan.

As you’re admiring his features, your stomach clenches painfully. Damn it, you’d hoped this would go away. The last couple of days you’ve been hit with waves of nausea, but you’re sure it’s just from a stomach bug or maybe you ate something funny. You extract yourself from Arthur’s arm and run to the edges of Horseshoe Overlook, preparing yourself to hurl. It doesn’t come and so you sit down, your forehead sweating a little. After some time, the stomach cramps disappear and you feel a bit better.

When you rejoin camp, Arthur’s walking over to you, holding a cup of coffee. You take it and thank him, not sure you want to drink it. The two of you stand by your shared tent for a moment, drinking and holding hands.

As the day wears on and Arthur is called on various chores, including taking you and the other girls to Valentine, you’re still feeling a bit odd. Every once in a while, you’ll be hit with nausea again while at other times you get a powerful craving for specific kinds of food, like bacon and chocolate. You find yourself slightly repulsed by the desire to have chocolate-covered bacon.

Night comes and you go to bed early due to a headache. Arthur’s getting worried about you. He’s noticed your bouts of nausea but he’s sure you’re just a bit ill from something. He sends you to bed because of your headache, telling you that you’ll feel better in the morning.

You stay awake though and wait for him. Despite your headache, you’re hankering for something else. Something you need Arthur’s help with. When he joins you an hour later, you practically attack him. He’s taken by surprise but he doesn’t mind at all and does his best to satisfy you, which luckily doesn’t take much from him. However, you do notice while making love to him that your chest is much more tender than usual and even hurts a little when Arthur touches you there. He notices and apologizes before moving to other places.

In the morning, you’re still nauseous. You’re beginning to worry about what’s wrong with you. When Arthur gets up, you go with him to get some coffee but he’s called over by Hosea. A few minutes later, he comes back stating he’s going to go hunting with him and might be gone until tomorrow. You kiss him goodbye, although you’d been planning to ask him to go to the doctor’s with you. You’ll have to go alone, you suppose, as everyone else is busy. Before Grimshaw has a chance to swoop down on you, you mount up on your horse and leave for town.

The doctor stands at his desk, adding a clear liquid to a tiny vial. He greets you when you come in and asks how he can help. You explain that you’ve been sick the last few days. He nods, his jaw set.

“You’d better come in back with me. I’d like to do an examination on you.”

You suddenly wonder if it’s more serious than a simple stomach bug. You follow him into the room and he instructs you to sit. Once you do, he grabs a chart and puts on his glasses. “Now explain to me all your symptoms, even if they seem strange or out of place.”

You nod and list off what you’ve experienced. When you’re done, he asks, “Are you sexually active?”

The question catches you off guard. “I don’t see why that’s important,” you say, feeling defensive. You cross your legs.

“Trust me, ma’am, it is. Just say yes or no, be honest, and I’ll explain why I’m asking.”

You sigh and then admit that you are. The doctor makes a final note on his paper, sets it on his lap and looks up at you.

“Well, miss, all the signs say that you’re pregnant.”

Your eyes widen and you hear a rushing sound in your ears. “W-what?” you say. “No, no that can’t be. I’m not… I’m not…”

“I’m real sorry, miss. I ain’t one to judge, you’re surely not my first patient with an unexpected pregnancy. However it is one of the risks you take during intercourse.”

Your eyes are tearing up. You’ve been with Arthur a few months now and of course dreamed of having a family with him, but now is the worst time. The gang’s on the run and it would be difficult, if not impossible, to get the right tools to care for a child. You sit and listen to the doctor as he explains the changes your body’s about to make and what to expect.

When you leave the doctor’s office, you feel terrified and dumbfounded. How could this have happened? You and Arthur have been so careful every time you’ve had sex, he always makes sure to never finish inside you. As you ride back to camp though, your mind drifts back to the night just before the Blackwater heist. You and Arthur had been out alone on a hunting trip and had gotten frisky. You’d gotten him overworked and he’d gone off before he had the chance to pull out. You told yourself it wasn’t a problem, that people rarely got pregnant after only one time of the man coming inside the woman, yet here’s the proof that your knowledge on pregnancies is wrong.

As you ride up slowly to Horseshoe Overlook, you put your hand on your stomach. Could Arthur’s child really be in you? Something about it feels right and yet the timing is all wrong. Your heart sinks again when you realize you’ll have to tell him, but how? Will he be angry? Will he dump you and leave you to care for the child alone? You automatically know he wouldn’t do this. He’s already told you about Eliza and Isaac and how he tried to look after them. He surely would do the same for you and your baby, if not better.

When you arrive in camp, you do your best to swallow your fears and worries. You put on a straight face and head over to the other girls, sitting down with them to work on laundry. You try to act normal, but obviously don’t do a very good job.

“You a’right, Y/N?” Mary-Beth asks. “Been awful quiet.”

Without warning, you suddenly burst into tears. Tilly and Mary-Beth stop and even Karen wanders over, worried.

“I… I don’t know what to do!” you wail into your hands. You explain to them in hushed tones about your predicament. “What will Arthur say?” you sniff. “I’m scared to tell him, how could he not be mad? Right now’s the worst time for us to have a baby!”

Mary-Beth puts a hand on your shoulder. “Ah, he won’t be mad! Not like he didn’t have a hand in it, after all. ‘Sides, if I know Arthur, I know he’ll be so excited. Why, you probably couldn’t give him better news!”

“But… but it’s the worst time for us to have a child. What with lawmen breathing down our necks and being on the run. How am I going to do this? What will Dutch say?”

“This ain’t for Dutch to decide,” Abigail says. She’s walked over and you suddenly realize she’s the best person for you to talk about this with because she was and still is in your shoes with Jack and John.

“What do I do, Abigail?” you beg her for answers. She sits down next to you with a heavy sigh.

“I know it’s real scary, Y/N. The first thing ya gotta do is talk to Arthur since he is the father. The two of you can come to the decision about what happens down the road. Don’t talk to Dutch or Hosea, wait until you talk to him.”

She pats your hand comfortingly. You suddenly wish Arthur was here, not because you’re excited but because you just want to get this over with. He’s gone the rest of the day though and isn’t back until later the next day. When he comes back, he waves and smiles at you, as he always does. You find yourself trembling and returning his wave halfheartedly. He walks over to you and tries wrapping his arms around you like he normally does, but you find yourself pulling away.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asks, worry sketched across his face.

“Arthur, we need to talk alone. It’s important.”

He looks down at you, his smile fading. He swallows hard and nods. “Okay,” he says softly. You clasp your hands together and walk into your shared tent. He pulls the flaps shut so you can have some privacy and then you turn to him, shaking.

“Arthur, I-I need to tell you something. Something’s happened and I can’t…” you look away, your eyes tearing up. Your throat feels like it’s swelling shut.

“Darlin’, ya can tell me anythin’. I just hope I haven’t hurt ya somehow.” His eyes are hidden beneath his hat and he looks miserable. You realize he thinks you’re probably about to break up with him, so you grab his hand.

“Arthur, you haven’t hurt me. You’re the best man I’ve ever known. If it wasn’t for our situation right now, I’d be so excited to tell you this. But seeing as things are the way they are now, I’m.... Arthur, I’m scared.”

“Why? What’s goin’ on?” He looks up at you.

“I’m… I’m pregnant, Arthur.” You put your hands over your face and start to cry. You fully expect him to storm out of the tent after a moment, or to leave or to say something horrible to you. What you don’t expect is him wrapping his arms around you and putting his cheek on your head as you sob into his chest.

“Darlin’, that’s wonderful!”

“No, it’s not, Arthur. How are we going to do this?” you say into his shirt. “We can’t run from lawmen with a newborn. How are we supposed to survive?”

He rubs your back and sighs. “I know it’s real scary right now and I don’t know what’s goin’ to happen anymore than you do. I do know this though.” He pulls you away so he can look into your watery eyes. “I’m gonna be with ya every step of the way, ya hear? You ain’t gotta do this alone. I ain’t gonna be like John and abandon you for a year, and I ain’t gonna do to you what I did to Eliza and Isaac. We’re gonna get through this together.”

You nod and begin to cry harder again, going back into the security of his arms.

*******************************************

As the months pass, you and Arthur become closer. He’s done exactly what he’s promised and been with you through the entire process. He even quit taking debt collections from Strauss because he realizes that those people are in the same predicament as you: beginning a new family with no money and no hope. He also hates who he has to become in order to do it and doesn’t want to bring that home to you and your future child. Strauss doesn’t take it well but Arthur tells him to stick it up his ass.

After you told him about being pregnant, he took you around to the gang that night and announced it, calling for a celebration. You said it was the worst time to have a baby being on the run, but Arthur, Dutch and Hosea agreed that it was good to know new life was coming from all this drama and the deaths of Jenny and the Calendar boys.

Dutch and Hosea were as excited as Arthur had been, declaring they already wanted to meet their grandchild. It was endearing to see them so happy and when the rest of the gang congratulated you and Arthur, that pit in your gut began to loosen and for the first time you felt excited too.

When your belly began to swell to the point people could see it through your clothes, Arthur became increasingly protective. He’d always been so, but he turned it up even more. If anyone in town looked at you funny, he’d bark at them.

Of course, you’d brought it to Arthur’s attention that you could just offer the child up for adoption, though you didn’t want to. He wouldn’t hear of it though. “I want this new chance, darlin’. I wanna watch our baby grow up.” You were grateful for this as all you ever wanted to give Arthur was a family.

As your belly grew, your hormones changed with it. You started having wild cravings, but Arthur was almost always there to get the things you wanted, no matter how absurd or expensive the food was. Not only that, you started having wild mood swings. One night, you completely wore him out because you went from fucking him to sobbing into his chest about the silliest things, like when your childhood dog died and then right back to fucking him.

Arthur remembers fondly when he first felt your baby thump. He’d been lying in your cot with you, his hand on your stomach when he felt the tiny bump. He grinned and started talking to your belly, which only made the baby thump even more. You noticed afterwards that your baby moved most often when it heard Arthur’s voice.

Eight months have gone by since and you’re living with the gang in Shady Belle, having been forced to flee from Horseshoe Overlook and Clemens Point. Your stomach protrudes quite a bit now and you suffer constantly from back pain. Grimshaw has luckily eased up on you doing chores since you aren’t very mobile anymore, not to mention your feet have swollen up which makes it even harder to walk. Arthur’s hardly left camp in the last two weeks after you had false labor pains. Dutch and Hosea have begged him to go out and work but he won’t, not when you might deliver any day now.

You’re lying in your cot in Arthur’s room now. It’s the middle of the day and swelteringly hot. You’re tired as you were kept awake last night by sharp pains in your lower back and pelvis. You don’t know if this means you’re close to giving birth, but Abigail’s been a great help. She’s given you lots of tips and hints about it. “You ain’t gonna like it,” she said, “but it’s worth it in the end. And as time goes by, you forget about the pain.”

Arthur walks into the room now and he greets you with a kiss. “How’s our baby?” he says softly, his hand on your large stomach. You put your hand over his and squeeze. “Good. I’m ready to be done though, Arthur. I knew pregnancies were hard but I didn’t think it’d be like this.”

He chuckles. “I know, sweetheart. I have a feeling it’ll be soon though.”

Dutch suddenly calls him and he leaves the room. You close your eyes, ready to try and take a nap when you feel something moist between your legs. Your eyes snap open and you remove your undergarments to see a large amount of blood. “Arthur!” you scream as pain begins waving through your body.

He runs in and when he sees your state, he calls Abigail and Grimshaw. When they come in, they try pushing him out but he fights them, stating he wants to be with you. They relent and he holds your hand, letting you try to break it.

As the hours pass, Abigail and Grimshaw check on you constantly. Finally they decide you’re dilated enough. Arthur gets a bucket of water while Abigail brings in blankets. When they’re ready, they help you position yourself and then tell you to start pushing.

The pain is indescribable and you cry out, tears cascading from your eyes. Arthur sits by your head, whispering encouragement in your ears. You’re pretty sure you say some nasty things to him, which you later feel bad about, but he doesn’t take them to heart. After several hard pushes and wails from you, Abigail and Grimshaw suddenly gasp and pull something up. You’ve been blinded by the pain but you hear something getting lightly slapped and then a new, unfamiliar wail pierces the room.

“She’s beautiful,” Arthur says in your ear. You open your eyes to see him crying and look down to see Abigail holding your daughter as Grimshaw starts cleaning her up. When she’s clean and bundled up, Abigail hands her to you. The little girl immediately quiets down in your arms as you rock her. She has a thick smattering of hair that’s the same color as yours, but when she opens her eyes they look just like Arthur’s. You look over at him, his own eyes moist, and hand her to him.

He cradles the baby gently in his arms and the two look at each other as though they’ve known each other for years. “Hello, Amber Morgan. I’m your papa.” Your heart swells as he names her and you lean over to rest your head on his shoulder. He looks over at you and smiles.

“This is the best thing I could ever ask for, Y/N. Thank you.”

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur x female reader #awkward asks

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marvels-writings · 4 years

Text

Phoenix and the Stars (5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

Carol Danvers Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: due to popular demand this is back earlier than i expected.

“Let me help,” Carol said, ignoring her needs and quickly rushing to help you with a small smile on her face.

She quickly ran upstairs and got the warmest clothes she could find, which included one of your shirts, her hoodie, your fleece pajamas and fuzzy socks. She wore a similar attire, and quickly headed back downstairs to find you staring into the fire with the blanket huddled around your shoulders.

“I’m so sorry about all of this.” You apologized softly, turning to Carol and shrugging the blanket off, exposing your body to the cold air of the cabin.

“It’s not your fault,” Carol replied, kneeling down in front of you and helping you pull the shirt over your head, staring at your body the entire time in awe. “So stop apologizing.”

You opened your mouth to say something again, Carol got impatient and put her hand on top of your mouth, effectively shutting you up. You stayed like that for a second as Carol tried to help you get into your pajamas, but then you licked her hand.

“Ew, seriously?” Carol whined, pulling her hand away as you grinned like an idiot, Carol tried to be angry but a grin quickly took over her face. “I thought you were an adult.” She wiped the drool on your thigh, you blushed at the action but caught Carol blushing too and smirked.

You bent down slightly, gasping at the pain before pulling the pajamas onto your hips, tying the strings and then letting Carol help you into her hoodie. It was way to oversized, you lifted your arms to the best of your ability.

“This isn’t my hoodie.” You stated, looking up at her and pouting. Carol laughed and jokingly pulled the hood on, you pulled on the hoodie strings, turning yourself into a garden gnome.

“I’ll get our things.” Carol stated after helping you sit on the couch, giving you your phone to keep you occupied before running upstairs and packing everything up.

You started browsing pinterest, extremely bored, thankfully the burn wasn’t bleeding anymore and it wasn’t even an open wound, it just hurt like hell. You continued scrolling, mindlessly listening to Carol run around upstairs trying to get everything together.

Carol quickly got her room sorted, even made her bed and leaving it in the exact same state she found it before heading into your room. Your room was much messier than hers, but it was still fairly neat. Carol walked around finding your duffel bag and putting your clothes into it.

Then she walked around, picking through the drawers and finding your personal belongings and putting them into the small backpack you had brought along with you. Carol found a few uninteresting things, a speaker, headphones, a camera for some reason, some sketches of random things and doodles on flashcards thrown about.

While looking for a place to put the flashcards, she found a small diary of yours, she opened the front cover to find some random funny notes telling the person to put it back, she laughed a little and flipped through the next few pages. Until she found a few days before today, she scanned the page for her name and found Stargirl instead.

How very typical of you, Carol knew it wasn’t the best idea to go through your personal diary but you had to be more careful with it. Carol thought of it as revenge for all the pranks you played on her in the small cabin and continued reading. Just the usual daily activities the two of you had done, but then she saw the word ‘beautiful’ in close proximity with Stargirl.

Carol quickly skimmed the page, she saw a small sketch of her with stars around her head, she smiled at the picture and read the caption below it.

‘Beautiful stargirl I’m forced to live with, it’s much better than I thought.’ Carol blushed and grinned, ‘she’s much better than I thought’ was crossed out, Carol chuckled and decided not to look further but one sentence caught her eye.

‘I definitely don’t have a chance though, she’s a literal goddess for christ’s sake, thus the name stargirl, I’m just me.’

Carol frowned but also blushed, she grabbed a pen from the side table and quickly scribbled out ‘just me’ and put in ‘I’m her phoenix.’ she grinned and put it in your bag, then bringing both of them downstairs to where you were browsing your phone.

“You got everything right?” You verified, putting your phone in your pajama pocket and attempting to get up, only to flop back down on the couch out of exhaustion.

“You can go through it on the plane.” Carol answered, slinging all of the bags over her shoulders. “I’ll come back for you in a second y/n/n.” Carol stated, smirking at your blush when she used your nickname.

You groaned at your inability to do anything by yourself and saw the fire die as Carol returned, a bit chirpier than before.

“I can carry you if you want.” Carol offered, you shook your head no and Carol understood. “Stubborn phoenix.” Carol muttered and bent down.

You winked at her jokingly and wrapped your arm around her shoulders, Carol wrapped one hand around your waist, cautious of your wound and pulled you up. She cautiously helped you hobble out of the small cabin, you kicked the door shut behind you but lost your balance.

You tumbled forward, Carol caught you by your waist and used the momentum to propel you backward into her arms and scooped one arm under your knee quickly and picked you up. You glared at her but didn’t protest, instead crossed your arms over your chest.

“That cabin was a mini hell hole but I’m gonna miss it.” You whispered, looking at the cabin as Carol carried you.

Carol gave a small mhmm, too overwhelmed with how relaxed you felt in her arms. You were so warm, Carol pulled you closer to her chest slightly, ready to protect you if anything surprising happened again. Though, she still couldn’t stop thinking.

If you liked her, why hadn’t you done anything yet, was she just blind? And if you did like her, she definitely likes you back, you were bright, stubborn, clever and funny as hell. She could see herself spending more time with you and she couldn’t wait.

But then again, she barely had time to eat most of the time let alone a relationship. The only reason she had been eating recently was because of you, the cooking and the fact that you didn’t eat unless she ate with you. It was adorable.

“Earth to Carol.” You shouted, snapping your fingers in front of Carol’s face weakly as the two of you entered the jet.

“Yeah?” Carol asked, setting you down on one of the benches in the jet carefully. She pulled over a large box from nearby and sat on it. “What’s up?”

“Nothing actually,” You confessed, Carol laughed and reached over to hold your hand, hesitating at the last second and deciding not to. “Just rather not have you space out the entire flight.”

“Then I won’t.” Carol joked, taking in a deep breath and taking your hand, looking away and pretending as if it was nothing. You smiled at the gesture, a light blush on your face as you intertwined your fingers together, stroking her knuckles gently.

“Hey did you get the vinyl for Technicolour Beat?” You asked, it was your favorite vinyl there.

“That’s called stealing y/n/n.” Carol answered, squeezing your hand lightly as the plane took off.

“Yeah but it was just like ‘our song’ you know?” You joked, resting your head back and looking at the boring ceiling before glancing back at Carol, watching her features relax slightly in your presence.

You gingerly took your phone out of your pocket, ignoring Carol’s hazel eyes staring at you in confusion and switched on Spotify, letting the song play through the ship. You smiled and let your phone rest on your lap.

“Honestly I think this is one of my favorites now.” Carol confessed, shifting so she could rest her back against another box while still holding your hand.

“Yay I got stargirl to listen to something except 80’s rock.” You joked, Carol sent a spark in your hand jokingly, you smirked but glared at her.

“I mean it does have good memories attached to it.” Carol said softly, watching the scenery fade away from outside as the plane went into the sky, the pillar of smoke still visible.

“True.” You replied sleepily, turning your head to the side, falling asleep out of exhaustion. Carol smiled at you softly, trying to take her hand out of your grip so you could sleep, you squeezed tighter and she stopped trying.

Instead, she leaned back on the boxes and watched you sleep, listening to the music play in the background.

‘And I feel life for the very first time.

Love in my arms and the sun in my eyes’

The lyrics meant so much more now.

| Part 6 |

Tag list: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @5aftermidnight, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

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