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bones4thecats · 21 days

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Them Having A Ghostly Gondolier! S/O

Type of Writing: Random Idea Name: Them Having A Ghostly Gondolier! S/O Characters: Enmu, Kaigaku, Gyutaro, and Nakime Idea-Giver: Random Ideas

A/N: The character of the Ghostly Gondolier is from the show Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! from 1969. The character is featured in Season 3, Episode 13! Also, the reader is uppermoon 5, though Gyokko is still in the story, just as the fellow moon alongside the reader. Also, they hate one another, anyways, the warnings are below.

⚠️ Trigger Warnings: Minor Swearing and Death ⚠️ Spoilers for: Manga Ending ⚠️

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As the descendant of royalty, you had a hidden lot of treasure hidden somewhere inside of your homeland of Italy. But when you discovered your ancestor had another descendant, you grew irritated. This was your family’s reward for hardship, not his!

You had always heard about a legend of a traitor being sentenced to the dungeons, and when you found a reference drawing of what they looked like, you dressed in your indigo tunic and gray cloak before adding gloves, a belt, and boots to finalize your look.

During your time acting as the spirit of a deceased traitor, you had been found out and escaped from the authorities, sending you and your gondola across a few rivers before going on foot through more pieces of land before landing in Japan.

Growing the need for more, you began another life of crime, stealing valuable jewels from the Entertainment District’s many rich prostitutes and their customers.

You had yet again been caught and almost died if it weren’t for the intervention of a man with black hair and red eyes, who had killed the many officers around you in the blink of an eye.

" You seem to be of use with your cunning traits. I will offer you this once, mortal. Become a demon and you will gain the power you so desperately want. Nobody or thing can take you down. "

It has been many years, perhaps a few four hundred years? Maybe four thirty-one? No matter, you rose in the ranks like nothing. Obtaining many treasures and valuables from your victims, demon slayers, average humans, and alike.

You expected every single attack and would teleport away faster than any other demon, but what you couldn’t disappear from was your feelings, much like your dearest demonic-lover…

Demon! Reader ; Uppermoon 5

💤 Enmu loved to watch you fight. You just taunting and scaring humans left and right as you would train your abilities with your fellow uppermoon 5, Gyokko, whom you despised more than that hashira that nearly killed you mere years prior

💤 You were known for your sneaky and very greedy personality, and the fact that your face was always hidden behind a cloak as your mouth and eyes glowed a horrifying yellow

💤 Despite how many feared you, Enmu adored you. He would find you after Lowermoon/Uppermoon meetings and hug you, requesting a small amount of time together, which you agreed to. You could count your gains that week that way

💤 He is very masochistic, while you are fairly sadistic. So, whenever you guys were to fight against one another to help with your boyfriend’s attack speed and power, you would harm him harshfully, much to his enjoyment

💤 Enmu loves to watch as you taunt humans, especially when it means he gets to see a genuine smile against your face when finding a hunk of pricy metals or whatnot that you didn’t have before

💤 You constantly fight with Gyokko, who yells at you for trying to steal his pots. And while normally many would be scared of his nasty ass face, you just laugh maniacally and lift one of his smaller and more delicate pots, threatening to throw it away as Enmu watches and laughs with you

💤 Your boyfriend also adores to go with you on your gondola, you lightly motioning it to slowly flow through the waters of a nearby river. This was the only place you guys could relax

💤 After you were sent the final words from your boyfriend before he died at the hands of the hanafuda-earring wearing slayer, you grew angry, just as angry as your master

💤 That bastard was going to pay for harming your lover… and he was going to pay with his life…

Demon! Reader ; Uppermoon 5

🍑 As one of the fastest rising uppermoons, Kaigaku met you fairly early in his short life as a demon

🍑 You were fairly ticked that Gyokko had died, the guy was so weak that he had fallen to the hands of a single hashira. And not only was it one hashira, it was a child! A mere excuse of a death, if you said so yourself

🍑 You were very powerful, and Kaigaku recognized that, and because you were fairly close with Kokushibo, as he would give you some things he knew you’d like off his multitude of victims, you met him early on and helped train him

🍑 Kaigaku noticed he still had a shard of humanity in him when you had held his blade out to him, with a small gold chain attached with the words ‘I believe in you, champ’ written in a little plate

🍑 You had made and gifted him something with so much value? Why was his face so warm at that action?

🍑 When you guys eventually became a duo of fighters, it made Muzan sigh, since he was being reminded of the previous uppermoons, Daki and Gyutaro, who died in his eyes by the shred of humanity they had left for one another

🍑 Kaigaku merely scoffed at Muzan’s remark and declared you would be the ultimate duo, one more powerful than the last moons

🍑 You fought against a group of demon slayers when a crow flew by, announcing the demise of your lover, and hearing that his supposed fellow trainee of Jigoro Kuwajima just enraged you even more

🍑 But, instead of fighting, you stood frozen as the young Kamado boy jumped and readied his sword to decapitate you. And once your eyes looked into his filled with tears, he readjusted and fixed his breathing style

" Boy… no- Tanjiro. Thank you for this… kick Muzan’s ass, yeah? "

🍑 Watching with widened eyes, Tanjiro smiled and bowed to your disintegrating body before walking away and wondering just why you gave up so easily at the mention of Kaigaku’s death

Demon! Reader ; Uppermoon 5

🩸 You have been uppermoon 5 for hundreds of years, and when Gyutaro and Daki first joined, you recognized the female as the Oiran Warabihime of the Kyogoku Estate in the Entertainment District

🩸 How did you recognize her, you might be asking. Well, you may or may not have snuck in and stolen a few very expensive vases before…

🩸 Anyways. Gyutaro noticed how Daki groaned at your appearance, you were just a plain-looking person, at least in demon standards to her

🩸 Your face was completely a shadow, while you had a glowing yellow mouth and eyes, which honestly gave the female demon the heebie jeebies while her brother became infatuated with your unique appearance. You were kinda like him in that way, a unique look and personality

🩸 Gyutaro began to seek you out whenever he got some time away from Daki, and while you wouldn’t admit it straight-up, you enjoyed spending some of your time with the sixth uppermoon

🩸 Daki grew onto you because of you delicately you treated her, even if she did annoy you with her constant whining. You just would hand her a piece of your horde and move on as she gloated to others about how you liked her more than the others

🩸 Only you and Gyutaro knew that you adored him the most, since he and you were the only couple between any moons throughout history

🩸 Whenever you had a successful hunt, you would travel to the Entertainment District and hang around with him and sister, though since Daki normally had work to hold, you would just sit down on the rooftops or go hunting alongside your dearest demon

🩸 Gyutaro is very self-conscious with you, he believes that you only are with him because you pitied him, I mean, why would someone as powerful and amazing as you want to be with someone like him? He couldn’t even protect his sister when he was a human…

🩸 Due to a small breakdown, you stayed in the District overnight, which was when Uzui and the squad came there and began the fight against the siblings and you

🩸 You watched as Gyutaro and Daki were killed, and in a frenzy, you wailed in agony as your boyfriend screamed for you to leave and began having a fight with his sister over their fates which would leave you alone and in so much emotional pain

" Stop right there, demon! " " You’ll pay for this, you damned slayer. You’ll pay for killing him! "

Demon! Reader ; Uppermoon 5

🎶 Nakime met you fairly early on in her life as a demon, since she took control of the Infinity Castle while you held your position as a powerful and long-lasting uppermoon, specifically uppermoon 5

🎶 You would spend your nights out gathering victims, demon slayers and civilians alike, and would steal everything valuable they had on them. From pieces of their clothing to even a part of their blades, you gathered it all

🎶 Bringing it back home was even better than the actual hunt for you, as you would sit down and count everything you gathered, though you particularly liked the medallions some rich people had on them, and you would listen to your lovely lover play her biwa in the background

🎶 She likes to look up from her instrument for a couple seconds to see you throwing some of your 'garbage' off to your fellow moon Gyokko, saying things like;

" This shit'll fit right in with your nasty ass pots, Gyok'. " " Holy! Y/N, what the hell! You almost hit my damn head! " " Good, it'd be a massive improvement. "

🎶 Whenever she would notice that Gyokko or another demon was targeting you or your gatherings, she'd strike her biwa and send the demon far away, and anyone could hear their screams of irritation from miles away

🎶 You would just look up and her and give her a thumbs up while yelling your thanks and adding a 'babe' or 'tesoro' at the end, making her gently smile and nod her head

🎶 When she had joined the Twelve Kizuki in replacement of Hantengu after his demise and you took over the position of uppermoon 5 for yourself, you always felt the urge to protect her now more than ever

🎶 This showed during the final battle of the slayers vs Muzan

🎶 Nakime and you were the final members of your organization remaining, and you were getting super fed up with these kids and traitorous demons

🎶 Your teleportation was hardly effective anymore, it's as if they were able to predict where you were going to come and go from, much to your, Nakime, and Muzan's chagrin

🎶 Muzan eventually grew so fed up that he had decided to eliminate Nakime, so that the castle wouldn't be controlled by Tamayo's little imp, and he just sent you a final message as you watched Nakime die from your leader's actions

" It's nothing personal, Y/N. " " Muzan, you son of a bitch! "

🎶 The young and older slayers watched in shock as you landed on the ground and cursed Muzan out as you slowly crumpled apart, and your final words were ones that put far more motivation into the future saviors of humanity

" Kill that guy! If you don't, I swear I'll haunt you all until the days you guys die! "

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aris-lazy-anime-reviews · 10 months

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Summer 2023 First Impressions: My Unique Skill Makes Me OP even at Level 1

The best thing about running my own lazy review blog is that I'm free to tap out of an anime whenever I fee like it. I quit this one at about the 9:30 minute mark.

This anime (I'm not gonna write that entire title out again) isn't... horrible. The main dude's "unique skill" is that he has absurdly high drop rates for everything he manages to defeat. This could be an interesting premise, but unfortunately the show (like a lot of other isekai) are so bogged down in video game stats and terminology and info dumping that first episodes are always terribly boring.

This series also seems to be a bit of a budget series, with some pretty bland animation and backgrounds. In the first half of episode 1, the characters are in a dungeon which is portrayed like an empty, white bricked structure. It's so visually boring! And the main cast (shown off in the OP) all look terribly generic. I also have to side eye the two main characters' relationship. One is an office-worker-reborn-into-a-fantasy-world, and the other looks like a grade schooler. WHY did they have to make the female lead look so young? She acts rather motherly towards our male MC too, and might be a potential love interest? That's weird; why couldn't you have just made her look like a short adult instead of like a child???

Anyway, that's not even the main reason why I dropped the episode midway. I dropped the episode because the show started to tout this awful message about how "one's efforts will always be rewarded, and the longer you go on without being rewarded, the greater the reward will be in the end." Which is... okay. I get what they were going for. But the female lead then comforts office worker dude (who just realizes he's died in the other world from overwork and is crying) by saying his reward for overworking himself to death is that... he gets to be reborn in this world and reap the rewards here. ???What??? I know this was supposed to be a comforting scene but that message is not at all comforting and uh. Is that really the message you want to send, anime??? That people should keep overworking themselves because someday maybe possibly you'll get a really big reward for it? Maybe I'm too much of a cynic but this message just feels hollow when death by overwork is an actual thing that happens in Japan.

Overall thoughts: I'm sorry for rambling so seriously about what is probably just a silly little isekai anime but I'm incredibly disturbed by the message this first episode puts out. If it was meant to be "inspiring" it definitely had the opposite effect on me.

Would I watch more?: No thank you.

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candlelight27 · 3 years

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Reiner - NSFW Alphabet

Reiner x F!reader

A/N: I really wanted to write something for Reiner and this happened! I hope you enjoy it. I might have added way too much drama for a simple nsfw alphabet but I have so many strong feelings for Reiner that I CAN'T. I'm just a simp... Okay, so keep in mind I made this thinking of post-timeskip Reiner.

Warnings: NSFW, obviously. Smut, fluff, angst. Some kinks discussed.

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

First things first, he’ll help you get cleaned up. He will either get a clean rug or you’ll share a shower. He won’t leave you alone, asking if you’re okay, if you need help, leaving several kisses on your shoulders and lips.

He’s rather emotional afterwards too. When you are lying on your bed in the dead of the night, he doesn’t understand how you are able to love him after all he’s done. He embraces your body and buries his face right in the crook of your neck. Reiner inhales your scent as you trace random patterns in the broad expanse of his back. He trembles in the slightest of manners, and you hear a faint sob, but you don’t say anything. You let him stay like that for as long as he likes. Sometimes it takes five minutes for him to calm down, while other times, it takes hours. But you don’t mind, and let his warmth surround you. He’s ever grateful of your love and carefulness. It’s not easy to forget all he’s done, and it’s even more difficult to accept he must live with the weight of his sins, so these moments of some kind of normality crush him. But you’re there, ready to help him.

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

He might be biased because of his training as the Armoured Titan, but he loves his arms and back. Reiner is strong and he uses it to his advantage. It makes him feel powerful and in control, more so when he has an opportunity in bed to show off his strength. He’s always elated when you absentmindedly caress his shoulders, arms and back.

Risking being vulgar, Reiner adores your ass. He takes a handful whenever he can – yes, even in public. If you wear something that accentuates your rear, the blond completely loses it, and it takes all his willpower not to kiss you and take you right there and then. During sex, it turns him on to see it, so he’s all into fucking in front of a mirror, or any position that lets him stare at your bum.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Reiner’s favourite place to cum is inside of you. He’s always a little scared, even with all the preventive measures, because the last thing he wants is getting you pregnant. Still, as a forbidden fruit, Reiner will enjoy every moment he’s releasing his seed inside of you, filling you to the brim. Unless you’ve gone a few rounds, Reiner’s cum is usually thick and abundant, always leaving a mess behind.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Reiner legit steals your underwear. He will regret it afterwards. But he does it anyways and more than once, he’s masturbated to your smell. To be fair, he would also steal other items that smell like you for those times you’re not around. Your scent helps him fall asleep and comforts him a lot.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He wasn’t that experience, although he had done the deed before. You live in a world where you could die in any moment, so he hasn’t held his urges that much. However, until he met you, he hadn’t let any of his previous partners see his most vulnerable side. Reiner always had that façade of confidence and assurance, that he always knew what he was doing, when in reality he was just faking it and hoping no one would notice. With you, that came to an end and he finally admitted he wasn’t as sure as he was supposed to be. Of course, it led you to a journey of exploration and you’d confidently say he’s now an expert. Reiner knows your body like the back of his hands, and he know exactly what to do to make you moan the way he likes. And of course, he’s an expert in making you cum whenever he wants, and for him, that’s enough experience.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

His favourite position is the one where you ride him with your ass facing him. He loves the view of your rear, that you can use him as you like for your own pleasure and that he can touch wherever he wants. He just sees advantages this way. Reiner would start eating you out while you were on all fours, getting you wet and ready for his cock. He’ll take his time as he savours your essence. Then, with his strong arms, he’d help you slide into his dick and grope your waist and your butt.

Since you often complain of him getting the best views, he’s committed to try as many positions as humanly possible. So, every other day, it’s an adventure.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It really depends on Reiner’s humour. Sometimes, when sadness hits him, he just wants the solace of your body. During those times, he barely talks, and you answer to his silent pleas with actions rather than words. On the other hand, when he’s in a good mood, he loves teasing you. He’ll banter until you get slightly offended, all heated and cute, and then kiss you everywhere.

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

Reiner doesn’t have that much time to shave, so he just does labours of maintenance from time to time. And yes, the carpet matches the drapes. He’s got a dirty blond mop of hair down there.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

The blond gets too into it. He looks at you in the eye and smiles adoringly. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear when he’s embracing you, your skin on his. He repeats all the time how much he loves you, how amazing you are. Reiner’s the whole romantic package. It may backfire, though, because if it becomes too emotional, he might cry. He doesn’t believe he deserve any happiness, much less with you involved, so an uncontrollable, deep horror takes his heart until he can’t take it anymore. Thankfully, your reassuring words help him forget all those intrusive thoughts. You’re quite used to Reiner’s ups and downs, so it won’t ruin the mood that much, and you will continue your activities at some point during the night – or right away if Reiner insists.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he steals your underwear, it’s inside his coat’s pocket. Reiner takes them with one big hand, while the other goes to his girthy cock. He’s working on paperwork, most likely, and alone in his room or an office. He starts slowly pumping his dick up and down, turned on by your smell. Then, he thinks of the last time you were with him and his pace increases until he can’t take it anymore.

His favourite place to masturbate is the shower, though. His muscles relax under the hot water and he can let go all the tension that’s been accumulating there all day. Reiner can spend hours there. And he’s so kicked back, that his hands slowly roam his body and find his dick. He will lean against the wall, supporting himself with this free arm. His quiet moans get drowned by the noise of the shower, and he can take as long as he wants. So he strokes himself slowly, lazily into completion. One of the best parts is that he doesn’t have to clean all the mess he leaves, since he’s already under the running water. One of the worst parts is that he’s alone and, even though he enjoys it, but it’s not the same as being with a partner.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Is dry humping a kink? Because he adores it. Reiner loved watching your body rub against his with clothes on. This way, he can see how your face becomes more and more desperate for him to take you, and he loved the feel of being needed. So, yeah, he’s all into you both wherever you are – the chair, the sofa, the bed – making out, his tongue exploring your mouth, while you are riding his thigh, or your crotches rub together.

Reiner is into spanking, too. Not as a punishment. He’s just so turned on that he forgets all his manners and morals and spanks you sporadically. However, when the skin he’s hit turns red, he regrets it deeply. He feels bad, because it reminds him of all the harm he’s done, and you are always so loving… You like it anyways, so when you see the shadow of doubt grace his face, you reassure him that you enjoy it just as much as him. He still feels like a brute, but a happy one.

Finally, edging. Reiner has never had the reins of his own fate. Never. He became a warrior to please his mom and basically, his life has been determined by the decisions of other people. Most of the time, he feels helpless. Therefore, his love for edging roots in the control it grants him. He can decide when you are going to cum, when he’s going to give you your reward, and he loves that. It’s weird, because he’s not usually attracted by the idea of dominance over you, but this does it for him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Truth be told, he’d make love to you anywhere. He likes the risk of both of you being caught, so I’d say an unfrequented yet public place. And he’ll never lock the doors, because there’s something appealing at someone seeing with their own two eyes that you love him, that he’s a great lover and that you chose him. He might be into exhibitionism a bit, but at the same time, he’s too shy to be open about it. In the end, he’ll try; Reiner kisses you deeply in the secluded but risky space, like the cleaning supplies closet, but just when things get heavy and sexy and you slide your hands to grab his dick, the blond proposes moving to somewhere more private. You’ll tease him a lot, and you’ll convince him to have sex in a place where you’ll get caught. On those rare occasions, you notice Reiner is hornier than usual. Actually, whenever you are in bed, just the fleeting mention of those episodes makes him lose his mind.

Other locations he enjoys, or rather pieces of furniture, are armchairs and sofas. The close contact it gives you, because you can’t lie down, makes him be able to reach any part of your body and cage you, so he’s all into it. Besides, it’s quite refreshing from always doing it on the bed. And it’s a plus if it’s not his or yours, for tainting an space that’s not yours adds to the spice and the fantasy.

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

Your whole self gets him going. You ass, mainly, but also your cute and gorgeous face, your voice, your body… When you dress up for him, it’s a treat. There’s no better gift. He can’t believe how lucky he is that someone like you loved him. Apart from those things, what gets him going is dirty talking. Mention his kinks and he’ll be up and ready to fulfil his duty. He’s filled with energy, love and anxiousness, so Reiner is nearly always up for sex.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Reiner is a bit possessive, so I think a threesome would be kind of a turn off, even though he might enjoy it if he tries it with someone he trusts. He’ll be reluctant to try toys, simply because the idea makes him all shy and uneasy.

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

Our favourite blond gives oral like a starved man. Your taste enticed him, and he can never get enough of you. He laps and laps all over your clit time after time, then lets his tongue roam inside your hole. At some point, he uses his fingers as well, because he doesn’t have the heart to tease you and wants to make you come. He’s going to give you more orgasms afterwards, so he won’t skimp on the pleasure he gives you.

There are few times in which you give him a blowjob and he’s not eating you out. During those rare occasions, he treats you as if you were made out of glass. His fingers caress your face and your hair delicately, and he tries staying as still as he can. Even when you scratch his thighs lightly, or play with his balls, he’ll behave, as disciplined as the soldier he is.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Reiner always starts slow and sensual, but it doesn’t last long. Not in the least. He gets impatient and once his mind is set and he sees you like it, his rhythm becomes relentless. It’s quite the experience, to be ravished in that way, but he can’t help it. Yet, in the rounds following the first one of the day, he’ll relax and control himself better. That’s when your most tender moments during sex are shared. He’s no longer chasing your high, but enjoying the moment, and you share loving words. This can last a lot, until you are oversensitive and cum because you’ve been at it for so long, you can’t take it anymore. Reiner, on the other hand, just comes at the same time because he can’t contain himself when you’re contracting around his cock.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t like quickies. If there’s no other option, he’ll take it. Sometimes you can’t see each other as frequently, and you’ll have a mere hour together, so those are the occasions where he might accept a quickie, but it’s not his style. He needs his time to properly adore you. Otherwise, it leaves him cold a confused. Reiner considers quickies a bit soulless and he gets a bit paranoid that you’re distant or angry. Because of this, he prefers avoiding quickies altogether, because even though he knows those thoughts aren’t real, they make his heart ache even more in your absence.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Reiner likes to experiment different positions. He will try every position at least once – or almost any position. And he takes mental notes of the ones you enjoy the most, for real. Yet the only real risk he takes is having sex in semi public places, and it happens really far in between and at your constant begging. Reiner loves the idea of exhibitionism but can’t handle his shyness.

When it’s late at night, and you are in an office where anyone can enter, you kiss his lips with passion. He knows where this is going, and he’s torn. But your lips are so soft, and your hands roam across the muscles of his shoulders and arms… and he’s forgotten almost everything already. He’s sat on an armchair, so you climb onto his lap, straddling him with your legs. Your fingers begin to undo the buttons of his shirt, and his dick is already hard and pressed against your sex.

“What are you doing?”, he murmurs.

“Nothing”, you answer. You slowly sway your hips back and forth and Reinter lets out a moan. You let your tongue roam his mouth as you pull on the blond locks of his hair, then his hands find your waist. He’s squeezing you, and he answers to your movements with his own.

There are voices outside, but you don’t care. You undo his pants, and his dick breaks free. You discard your underwear, grunting at the lost of contact, but quickly come back to him.

“So?”, you tease.

“Let me have you already”, he sighs. You’ve caught him unarmed, and he’s ready to surrender. During the hour you are there, nobody interrupts you, but the noise outside is constant. You know he notices because his cock twitches every time. But you can see, at the same time, that he’s having way too much fun.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Reiner’s first round is usually the shortest, because he’s dying to have sex with you. Still, compared to other guys, it’s a long period of time. But once he’s come and breathe a bit, he wants more rounds. And this time, he’ll last much longer because he will be focused on enjoying all you have to offer instead of being overwhelmed with your presence. Reiner, all in all, is a guy with a lot of stamina, and being a warrior only enhances that aspect.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own toys and he’s reluctant to use them. You might be able to convince him little by little. First, you could introduce him with toys he can use with you… but it will take long and a lot of patience.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You tease him way more that he does tease you. Instead, he loves to spoil you, and even when he’s edging you, if you plead way too much, he’ll let you come. He’s got a heart of gold deep inside, and he can’t avoid not giving you something you want. Reiner’s just like that, attentive and helpful.

He enjoys teasing you with words, though. And he’ll tease you about every little thing you can think of. Until he finds a certain aspect that particularly irritates you, which he will use to his own benefit. He loves when you seem angry, but can’t resist his advances.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s usually silent, releasing a moan here or there. But he will dirty talk a lot, so be ready. He starts with obscene sentences, but he softens and ends up being a flustered mess saying loving words. But the things he says, corny or not, do turn you on.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Modern AU! Reiner is not the kind of guy to send dick pics. However, the first time you were sexting, he sent a video without a warning. You hadn’t even sent each other a picture, so it caught you by surprise. It was incredibly sexy, as he was caressing his dick through his underwear, then taking it out and pumping it up and down. However, it took a few minutes to reach, which were enough to make Reiner paranoid. He started apologizing, until you phoned him and told him to come to your place right away.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Reiner is not the longest, but he’s thick. And when I mean thick, I mean that he has to make an effort to make you wet and ready for him. You love it, because it fills you completely and you can feel every little movement, so the stimulation washes over your whole body. He’s very confident in the way he makes you feel, so he likes his size. It’s also slightly curved upwards and a bit to the right, and his head is bright pink. He has foreskin and there’s a big vein gracing the left side. He’s never really thought about his dick at any level – he hasn’t done that thing of comparing his prick to his friends’ – but he can feel his heart swell with pride when you compliment him and praise him, and when you worship him with your mouth.

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

This man always wants sex. Unless he’s really, really sad, in which case he needs a good hug… and it sometimes leads to sex because your body pressed against his own and he can’t control his urges. Fortunately, you’re almost always as needy as him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Reiner has a lot of troubles falling asleep. You’re more likely to drift off first. He’s always dwelling on something, but he won’t be anxious. Instead, when your asleep right next to him, even if he’s awake, he feels calm and a sense of peace.

#reiner x reader #reiner x female reader #reiner smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #reiner braun

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scripts4dreamers · 4 years

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Just One Drink

Part Two, Part Three

AN: Cases at the BAU wear on you after a while Characters: Spencer Reid Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader Spoilers: None Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence

Prompt: “We’re in this together.”

(Do I want to write a part two for this? Maybe. Do I love Spencer Reid and the Criminal Minds bunch in general with all my heart? Most definitely. So feel free to send in requests!)

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You sighed, collapsing into the chair by your desk and burying your face in your hands. It had been a long week. Three missing kids, one crazed killer and less than 72 hours to get them back alive; just another week for the BAU. You tried to remember that you’d signed up for this, that you loved what you did and the people you did it with, and that you had managed to save the kids in the end, but your tired brain didn’t care. Right then, all you really wanted was a mug of hot chocolate and to curl up on your couch with a good book.

“Hey, you okay?” you heard someone ask.

You lifted your head slightly and noticed Spencer Reid had appeared beside your desk without you noticing. He was leaning against the divider you’d set up and was trying to look casual and failing miserably. Spencer had been a part of the BAU for a lot longer than you had and he was a bit of a legend in the Bureau but, for some reason, he always seemed nervous around you. He was nice, of course, and clever, and you enjoyed spending time with him but it took a lot for him to seem properly at ease whenever you were nearby and, right now, you were too tired to want to play nice with anybody.

Maybe it was because you were new, you reasoned, maybe he just wasn’t good at adapting to changes in the team dynamic. Still, he was obviously trying, so you forced yourself to give him a small smile and nod.

“Yeah, I’m all good, just tired.” you answered.

Spencer nodded, like he understood, and pulled up a chair, “I was the same when I’d just joined, every case took the life right out of me. You’ll get used to it.”

“I hope so,” you sighed, resting your head in your hands again, “because there’s no way I can keep going on like this.”

For a long moment there was just silence, until he cleared his throat and asked, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Your head shot up and you tried to hide the flash of confusion on your face, “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” Spencer laughed nervously, “contrary to popular belief I’m actually a really great listener.”

“And humble too,” you joked.

“Oh exceedingly so,” he joked back, rising out of his seat, “come on, let’s go get a drink and I’ll prove it to you.”

You considered for a moment. On the one hand, you desperately wanted to get out of the office and remember what it felt like to not be miserable, and you’d been secretly crushing on Spencer since your first day at the BAU, on the other…

You shook your head, “I should stay, I’ve got so much paperwork to get done for this case and-”

Spencer rolled his eyes fondly, reaching down and pulling you to your feet, “And it’ll still be there on Monday,” he interrupted, “Come on, Y/N. I’ll help you with whatever you need later.”

Your heart jumped into your throat at the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your wrist, and you felt a lick of heat run up your neck. It was unfair for a skinny white boy who could describe the plot of every star trek episode ever made in detail to be as attractive as Spencer Reid was. You didn’t know if it was the hair, or his cheekbones, or the way he smiled but, whatever it was, you were a sucker for it so you let yourself get pulled up.

“Okay, Reid, but I’m holding you to that. If I’ve forgotten even one important detail that messes this report up-”

“Y/N, I have an eidetic memory. The report will be perfect,” he smiled, letting your wrist drop and scooping up your bag, “let’s go then, I know the perfect place.”

----------------------

The bar Spencer took you to was small and cozy; busy enough that you could blend in to the crowd without being so loud that it became overwhelming. The drinks weren’t cheap, but they were good, and the booth you’d tucked yourselves into was comfortable and out of the way so you could talk freely. Spencer loved it there. He’d been coming to that bar since he’d first joined the BAU and, even though a bar wouldn’t usually be his first choice for a happy place, this one was packed to the brim with happy memories.

Across from him, you were sipping your second whiskey sour in silence, casting nervous glances up at Spencer every few seconds. Something was definitely wrong. It wasn’t just the dark circles under your eyes that worried him, or the way you never really sat still, constantly glancing around the room and over your shoulder, it was everything. Usually you were so...alive at work. You’d joke around with Morgan, swap stories with Prentiss, brazenly flirt with Hotch and Rossi until they’d crack and give you a smile. In every situation you made a point to add value, whether that be by making a poignant connection during a case or just sliding the perfect cup of coffee Spencer’s way without him having to ask for it. But now things were different. It had been happening bit by bit, too slowly for some of the others to notice but, after this last case, it was impossible for Spencer to ignore. You didn’t laugh anymore, or joke or flirt. You still made amazing points, still worked harder than anyone asked you to, but now it seemed like it weighed you down, like every new case chipped just a little bit more of you away. It hurt to watch.

“Y/N, you know it’s okay to struggle with this stuff, right?” Spencer eventually said. He wasn’t exactly the king of knowing what to say but he felt like he owed it to you to try. After all, when he was new he’d had Gideon to help him through it, “You don’t have to be alright right away.”

“You are,” you replied softly, meeting his eye briefly.

Spencer snorted and shook his head, “Me? The recovering drug addict? Yeah, I’m definitely the poster-child for healthy coping mechanisms.”

You chuckled and then looked up, horrified, “I didn’t mean to laugh at the whole addiction thing.”

“I know, Y/N/N,” he smiled, “but you’re allowed to. I was making a joke after all.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” you teased gently, leaning back in your seat.

Your shoulders were untensed now, Spencer noticed, and you were fiddling less and he breathed an inward sigh of relief. You were relaxing.

“Yeah, Morgan says I’ve gotta work on my delivery more,” Spencer said.

“Smart man, Morgan.” you countered.

Spencer smiled, “But seriously, Y/N, if you want to talk-” he lapsed into silence, holding your gaze as he let his offer hand in the air.

You watched Spencer for a moment, that piercing look in your eye that always made him feel unsteady, like you were seeing right through him. You weren’t profiling, he knew that, but you were definitely trying to figure him out. Eventually you sighed, seemingly resigning yourself to your fate, and nodded slowly.

“I just-” you started, “I didn’t know it would feel like this,” you blinked quickly, probably trying to stave off tears, “all the worry just-it just eats away at me and I can’t do anything about it.” You paused, sniffing, before taking a deep breath and continuing, “And it’s never enough, you know? We do everything we can but it’s just never enough and the cases keep coming and coming and all these people keep dying and dying and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. We’re the best people for the job and we still spend 80% of our time playing catch up to these guys,” you shook your head again, “it just messes with my head.”

Spencer felt his heart pinch in his chest, affection rushing through him so fast that he didn’t know what to make of it.

He leaned forward, holding your gaze and said, “Of course it does, we spend most of our day trying to think like some of the most disturbed and dangerous people in the country. Honestly, I’d be more worried if you weren’t struggling with it.” Spencer assured you, “Our job is really really fucking hard, okay? It’s rewarding, but it takes its toll on all of us eventually. What’s important is to remember that you’re not doing this on your own, I’ve got your back-we’ve got your back, the whole team.” He hesitated for a moment, before leaning forward and covering your hand with his own, “We’re in this together, no matter what happens.”

For a long while you just looked at one another, something like gratitude glimmering in your eyes as you squeezed Spencer’s hand. His skin felt warm where it met yours and he softly let his thumb glance along the inside of your wrist.

You were beautiful, Spencer noticed, but not in the way he expected. Objectively speaking you were an attractive person, of course, he’d have to be blind to miss that, but there was something more. Just being pretty generally wasn’t enough to make Spencer’s heart race like it did around you, it wasn’t enough to make him want to reach out and touch, to make Spencer so desperate to spend time with you that he dragged you to a bar he loved on the off chance he’d get you to smile. Just being pretty wasn’t enough to explain why Spencer felt the way he did, it had always been more than that.

You nodded, quickly wiping your cheeks and giving Spencer a small smile as you gently detangled your hand from his. His heart sunk, just a little bit, at the loss of contact, but he made sure to keep his face neutral.

“How are you so good at this, doctor Reid?” you asked.

I’ve been practicing what I wanted to say for nearly two weeks now, Spencer thought.

He shrugged, “It’s just the truth, Y/N, that’s all.”

You nodded and lapsed into what seemed like a thoughtful silence.

“Hey, Reid?” You eventually asked, sounding almost nervous.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Why do you call me Y/N?”

Spencer frowned, suddenly confused, “That’s your name. Is there something wrong with how I say it?”

“No, no you say it perfectly,” you assured him, “it’s just, you don’t call anyone else in the team by their first name. Just me.”

He opened his mouth to say that that was ridiculous, but stopped just before the words left his mouth. You were right.

“Um,” Spencer started, a lick of anxiety flaring up in his stomach, “I don’t-I don’t know, really. Guess I never thought about it. You want another drink?” He took the opportunity to stand up and walk to the bar, returning your empty glasses and ordering two fresh drinks.

He needed a minute to figure out where his head was. He felt unsettled, like maybe something about the way you’d looked at him had struck a nerve. He knew how suspicious he’d sounded just then, like he was hiding something. He knew he had to have a better answer, otherwise you’d just come to your own conclusion and, judging by how good of a profiler you were, you’d probably come to the right one.

Fuck. When he’d invited you out for a drink Spencer had just wanted to make you smile, maybe take a little of the load off your shoulders. He’d never meant to make it so personal, such an obvious declaration of his feelings, but he had. It may have seemed small to call someone by their first name in your line of work, but you both knew different. It signaled intimacy, care, trust. It meant that he felt something for you, something different than what he felt for other members of the team. He had to be smart about this. There were rules against agents fraternizing with other agents, guidelines that had to be followed, boundaries that had to stay in place to preserve the team. Beyond that there was the fact that you were new, he didn’t know you well enough to say for sure how you felt about him, whether there was even a possibility of his feelings being reciprocated, and the fact that he didn’t even really know what his feelings were.

He admired you, he thought you were smart and resourceful, funny, sweet, tough as nails, he liked being around you. He liked you, but that didn’t have to mean anything. He’d liked tons of women in his time, some of them had liked him back, most hadn’t. But the name, the name meant something, it had to.

The bartender handed him the drinks and, reluctantly, Spencer made his way back to the table. You were watching him, somewhere between nervous and expectant, and Reid felt a familiar rush of fondness shoot through him. He collapsed onto the seat across from you, handing you the drink with a small smile.

“Whiskey sour,” he commented, trying to break the tension, “often considered a more masculine drink due to the presence of whiskey and egg-white.”

“Drinks shouldn’t be gendered,” you answered, taking a sip, “and by the way, if there’s egg-white it’s called a Boston sour.”

“Are you from Boston?” He asked.

You shook your head, “Nope.”

“Oh.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, just expectant. Spencer knew instinctively that, if he wanted, he could just avoid the topic completely. You wouldn’t push him. You would leave the bar together, say goodnight, and life would continue on like nothing had happened, but something about that felt inauthentic, like he’d be lying to you somehow, and he respected you too much for that. So he settled on part of the truth

“I call you by your first name because I care about you,” he eventually said, “I-uh-I feel….protective over you, I-” he cleared his throat, “you’re important to me. I didn’t-if it makes you uncomfortable I can call you Y/L/N.”

“No!” you said quickly, “No, I didn’t-it doesn’t make me uncomfortable, I like it. I just-” you looked away, worrying at your lip in a way that made it seem like you were nervous. You took a deep breath and stared down into your drink, “I was worried that it meant you didn’t respect me.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, “What? Y/N that’s ridiculous! You’re one of the best profilers I know.”

You rolled your eyes, “Maybe in other departments, but in the BAU?” You shook your head, “I’m practically an amature.”

“I’m sorry, did you not just solve a case and rescue three kids?” Spencer asked, “Was it someone else who made the connection between De Vos’ childhood arson charge and the kids home the victims were from? ‘Cause if I remember correctly, and I’m pretty sure I do, that was all you.”

You smiled a little, enjoying the praise, but still seemed unsure, “Well none of that would have been helpful if you hadn’t figured out where he was keeping the kids.”

“Yes, it would have,” Spencer promised, leaning forward and covering your hand again, “Y/N, you cracked that case wide open. Without you, those kids would probably be dead.”

“Without you those kids would be dead,” You corrected, nudging his leg under the table and giving him a shy smile.

Spencer felt his heart stutter in his chest and he leaned back, taking his hand off yours but leaving your knees touching under the table.

“Well that just means we’re a good team.” He said, returning your smile.

You laughed and, with that, the tension dissipated. You spent the rest of your time together sharing childhood stories and swapping jokes. You spent twenty minutes just listening to him explain common misconceptions about the story of Tristan and Isolde before he caught himself and, when he laughed and apologized, you just shrugged and smiled, saying that you loved seeing how happy he looked when he talked about it. Spencer nearly swooned at that.

By the end of the night you seemed more like your old self than you had in weeks. Spencer walked you out and waited with you on the street as you called a taxi. It felt different between you now, no awkwardness or strain, just the warm comfort of being with someone you care about. Of course, just under the surface, Spencer could feel the start of something. It was fragile, easy snuffed out if treated poorly, but it was there; potential, the potential for this to be more than a friendship, to be something real, something worth fighting for.

Your taxi arrived before Spencer could figure out how to feel about that. Before he could say anything, you’d pulled him into a warm embrace, leaving him enough time to pull away if he wanted as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he pulled you close, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You smelled wonderful.

“Thank you for today, Spencer,” you said quietly, so that only he could hear, “I-I really needed it.”

Spencer swore he felt his heart actually melt at the softness in your voice, but he pushed through it.

“Anytime, Y/N.”

You pulled away, smiling bigger than he’d seen in ages, and he couldn’t help but smile in return. You clambered into the taxi gracelessly, because you were looking back at him.

“You won’t be saying that when you’re stuck working those reports with me all of next week,” you teased.

Spencer smiled, stepping forward to close the taxi door behind you, “Wanna bet?”

“You’re on.” you agreed fondly.

He watched the car from his position on the sidewalk until it disappeared, trying to calm the frantic pounding of his heart.

“Spencer,” he muttered to himself happily, “she called me Spencer.”

And by god, he’d never liked the way his name sounded more.

#jordsie #jordsie writes #criminal minds #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid headcanons #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine

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youwontlikethisblog · 3 years

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Betty's New Look

Previously I talked about Armando's rivalry with Nicolas and how that also motivates him to continue the affair with Betty. I've also talked about how Armando displays signs of s. addiction. I felt it was important to break that down to really understand this post in particular.

By understanding what motivates Armando in his quest to have affairs and understand why the man is so obsessed with the beauty standards of women we can now understand his behavior towards Betty.

I mentioned in that post that I have an OC that is portrayed to have s. addiction and how much research I had to make so I could write it correctly. However I didn't mention or explain as much something vital that I see in Armando as well.

Seggs can many times not only be a form of escapism or control but many times for reasons of self-esteem/worth. If the person believes that the only way they can ever feel wanted or loved is by acts of s. than they will often participate in said behavior to feel that way.

With Armando he doesn't only do it to escape the chains of a pre-planned destiny by his parents and fiancé but because he also doesn't really feel loved and he uses these models as a from for him to feel that way or at least wanted,(I mean the only thing he has that keeps his relationship with Marcela together is their seggsual relationship.) he doesn't only do it to feel like he has control over that part of his life.

I mentioned in another post that women enter Armando through the eyes. He is a very physical man. He is superficial when it comes to the women he sleeps with. He grew up in the fashion world where the standard is tall and thin. The beauty of women can only be found in those types.

What does this have to do with Betty's new look?

Though we've established that Armando is attracted to her personality, he isn't of her physical appearance. Does that make him a bad person? No. Sometimes it happens. Sometimes we find someone's personality so much more attractive than their outer appearance but we still dare to date them. Women are often told "you're too pretty for that man" because of this.

Armando isn't a bad person for that and he accepts to a certain degree that he is attracted to her personality but because he is such a superficial and perfectionist with the body of a woman he denies this. He denies any and all attraction to her for this exact reason.

He finds it so hard to understand why he would still be attracted to Betty and why he likes her kisses when he doesn't look at her as a seggsual object like he does to all the women he has had affairs with and that's because unlike those women Betty isn't a seggsual object and that throws him off.

Lets considered the fact that when he repeated what Bertha told him about Nicolas, that he didn't even think of her with a bad thought(one could assume she meant a perversive thought.) as he tells this new piece of information to Mario he said so surprised and when Mario said that it made sense to not think of her in that way he agreed. In an instant he contradicted himself. In his tone he seemed surprised that a man wouldn't think of Betty so much even with a bad thought but that he understood that no one would? To some degree, to some far end distance, Armando does view Betty as a woman but not enough to actively desire her as one like he has in the past with the models.

(I'll talk more about this when we get to the B-Day episodes 😏)

In the past when Marcela got a new look he commented on it. It was the first thing he mentioned as he said she looked great(Betty was a witness to this). However when he see's Betty's new look he doesn't even comment on it. For one because he doesn't want to hurt her feelings and two because he doesn't want to lie so she keeps looking like that.

I think, in my very personal and humble opinion, that Betty looks fine. What ruins the fit is her hair but it is very 70's office chic. Like lets be honest if they took off the bangs, did a middle part, defined those curls, and didn't apply that much blush and lined her lips, she'd look so cute. Unibrow and braces with the glasses, Betty would slay. She'd look like a cute dorky person.

She IS very gorgeous to me!

I will fight anyone who disagrees with this and I will set up a time and date for it!

Now that we have established Armando's hesitation to accept Betty's physical appearance and why he doesn't want to comment on it lets begin.

In this episode Betty had just arrived to Eco Moda, her friends went to see her new look in her office as if she were the main attraction at the zoo and when leaving her office Armando over heard their commentary on it, once again being witness to the critique of Betty behind her back as none of them wanted to tell her how awful they thought she looked and they were her supposed close friends.

Marcela then enters his office and they talk about how Patty thought Marcela had caused those bruises on Armando, who tells her that the cuartel thinks the same and they start to flirt and then make out.

Just as they start to Betty exits her office.

Armando's reaction is a pissed off one. We see him roll his eyes and clench his teeth while he has his lips tight, even Marcela comments on it.

"My love you don't have to get so upset."

"No it's just embarrassing for all of us." He says and walks behind his desk and sits.

Betty struggles to speak for a second before grounding herself and saying that she just wanted to excuse herself to go to Marcela's office so she could sign the paper work for the loan they were giving Sofia.

Marcela only stared at her for a bit before she couldn't look at her without bursting into laughter right there and then.

Betty doesn't make eye contact with Armando he however stares at her with a concern look on his face, which is very different than his first reaction to Betty being in the room.

Now he watches Marcela sign the paper, he's got a crease between his brows that are furrowed, his eyes are saddened and his mouth slightly parted but still slightly tense.

This is a look of worry.

Betty excuses herself and Armando watches her leave while Marcela starts to laugh(Natalia really nailed the mean girl laugh).

As Marcela starts to make fun of her Armando asks her not to make fun of her and she tells him that whoever did her hair didn't curl it but stuck her into the electricity socket. Armando stares at her as she says these things with his lips pursed while squinting his eyes at her as she laughs.

He disapproves of what she's saying and it angers him that she is HOWEVER in a very classic manor he doesn't tell her any of this. Unlike the previous night that he literally started to hit the guys who were saying these awful things to her, saying that they had to respect her, here he stays silent. He doesn't even yell at her. Instead he turns around and goes to his computer.

I'm not saying that Armando should have hit Marcela lmbo! That would be bad and inexcusable! What I'm saying is that again we're shown the contrast and contradictions of Armando. While with complete strangers he demands for Betty to be respected and treated well he can't to that with Mario or Marcela. Not only because Marcela would get jealous and throw a fit about him telling her to be respectful but because he'd also give her cuerda(rope) to suspect and continue being controlling and with Mario because Mario would make him miserable if he shared even a fraction of his confusion or talked through his feelings about it all because he's tried it in the past but each time Mario makes a joke about it and he just shuts down. He's a coward to face the people in his life that really matter because he doesn't want to face the consequences of liking a woman like Betty.

The girls asked Betty if anything is wrong and she tells them no. Betty expressed her guilt and how she feels terrible whenever she sees Marcela and how she has walked in on them kissing and Armando making it obvious that he was angry that she interrupted them(It also explains his worried expression in the latter of said scene).

I've noticed many people just lump Betty as the insecure girl because of romance and that's really where her depth ends but Betty is a very complex individual here too(and I really want to make a more detailed post about it!).

She navigates a world that overall treats her poorly only because she's "ugly" but inside Eco Moda she navigates a world that actively prays for her downfall and who humiliate her in front of many only for the reward of laughing at her expense be their personal satisfaction. Yes she's dealt with bullying and people excluding her because they think she's ugly all her life but the cruelty that she faces in Eco Moda goes beyond and above.

These people are supposed to all be people of class, people she views as superior to her in all aspects. It isn't just humiliation that she faces for her physical appearance but she faces an over all humiliation for simply being a human existing and even then, even as she feels so terrible of herself, as she hates the way that they humiliate her, she still thinks of them superior to her and their opinion matters to her and because of this, despite their disgusting behavior, Betty still has some respect for them on the professional side. She still respects their authority inside Eco Moda and their vitality to the well being of the company.

Betty is such a sweet person at this stage of the novela that she still respect these people but it's so hurtful to see because she also does this because she thinks she deserves this.

Trauma affects a person in more than one way. Her life experience has been painful, isolated, grim, cruel, and lonely; add the traumatic relationship she had with Miguel to this, Betty doesn't have a self-esteem. She doesn't have a sense of self-worth. Betty, in such a terrible an awful way, believes that she isn't deserving of respect for simply existing, much less of voicing how it makes her feel when they treat her the way they do.

She doesn't understand why her father takes so much care of her. She doesn't understand why anyone would ever be nice to her. She's shy, timid, reserved, afraid. This is exactly why she was so impacted by Armando's behavior towards her. It wasn't just because she has no self-esteem. It's that someone treated her as a human being worthy of respect for simply doing her job and existing.

In the following scene, which is a parallel of a scene I previously talked about(post You Betrayed Me!) Armando's behavior is vastly different.

While in the past when he heard them making these crude jokes at the expense of her[Betty] boyfriend Armando seemed scared, angry, worried, and humiliated to a certain degree but this time his demeanor is different. This time he squints his eyes at Patty. He looks at Marcela with disapproval without hiding it. He visibly looks pissed.

"Did you see her clothes? No one would undress her with that!" Patty and Marcela laugh.

"Who would want to undress her?" Marcela says and they cackle, seriously, they cackle a lot. "I think Beatriz goes to the gyno and he tells her not to get undressed, that he'll examine her over her clothes."

"Obviously! She'd tell him "Doctor could I get undressed?" she mocks Betty's voice. " and the Doctor would tell her "No please, please! Don't do it! I beg of you!" she clasp her hands in front of her, pretending to be the Doctor begging. Armando had passed by her, squinting his eyes and now he's behind Marcela, far away, still hearing their conversation staring at them in disbelief and anger.

"Could you imagine what it must be with the boyfriend?" Patty says while Marcela laughs.

"No! See, she's so ugly that he doesn't kiss her, he hits her." they laugh. Armando stares at Marcela with disdain.

"Again with the jokes against Betty?" Marcela turns to him laughing.

"No. No they're not about Betty. They're about Betty's boyfriend." this time, unlike before, he doesn't change his emotions. He squints his eyes at Marcela once more. "and what he has to face tonight once he sees her." She covers her face laughing.

"Maybe he already saw her." to Marcela this line holds no meaning but to the audience it does and it isn't only for comical effects. Armando is now saying that her[Betty] boyfriend already saw her i.e. him. He is now out loud in his own way confronting the fact that he is her boyfriend to himself, while before he wasn't even able to say it to Betty or himself this time he's confronting himself about it.

Betty walks past Armando and he watches her as she walks towards Marcela and Patty who are still laughing, she bumps into Hugo who laughs at her, and they don't hold back at making it obvious that they are laughing at her and making jokes behind her back.

"Who is that creep?" Hugo voices loudly. Armando turns to glare at him. "Betty's cousin?"

"No Hugito that's the very same Betty but like a new version." Patty says.

"She went with the enemy so they could dress her and style her hair." Marcela says.

"What hairdresser? Because he didn't do highlights, he did lightning bolts." Hugo jokes.

The model and the rest laugh while Armando visibly controls his anger, but doesn't hide it or pretend to be unbothered as he shakes his head at Marcela and Patty and marches away from them.

Compare this to his previous reaction, while Marcela knew that Armando didn't like that she was making fun of Betty the other time he didn't actually voice his disapproval, he even laughed at one of the jokes that Patty made until he heard Marcela call him[Nic] a Multi-Millionaire. This time he finds no humor, he doesn't even feel offended that their making fun of Betty's boyfriend or hurt, he feels furious that they are.

However in the following scene all of that good behavior is squashed like a bug. He sits with Calderon talking bad about Betty's new look.

While Calderon tries to make him be a good boyfriend Armando scoffs and questions "praise her new look?"

"You haven't praised her new look?" Calderon whispers alarmed. "What are you? A beast? An animal? An ignorant!" he hisses. "Look there's nothing worse, nothing that humiliates a woman more, that tramples her ego, that ends her love for a man than you not praising her new look."

"What? Do I give her four hallelujahs for the hairdo? What?"

"No but Betty isn't the only woman that goes through that, my god. Almost all women are a disaster when they change their look but you still praise her new look! It's that simple." Armando sighs. "Look when a woman changes her look she changes it for A: her husband. B: the lover. In this case we have one true god." Armando purses his lips and rolls his eyes. "So then my dear god, praise the new look."

"She won't believe me. She won't believe me. The entire world has made fun of her for it. She'll think I feel pity for her, consoling her, or or worse that I'm making fun of her like the rest.

"Then the time for you to demonstrate to her that you're really serious[about this], that your love goes beyond the physical(goes on to list all of her physical flaws)" Armando looks pained to be the poor fool to have to "Accept" this. "well the list is long but if I were you I'd make love to her just as she is." Armando slowly, repeatedly blinking, turns to look at Mario. "well it's the only way for you to show her that you love her, that you desire her."

"Be very careful, Calderon, because with the simple fact that I already kiss her, with that fact alone, I'm paying in life what I should be paying in death." He whispers. "And besides I'mma tell something for me... to do that to her, never. Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps." He stands up.

"Well you better start to prepare yourself. Where do you have Adrianita's picture?"

Yes I've talked about how women enter Armando through the eyes but that doesn't justify his behavior, it merely explains it. The objectification he has on women as seggsual beings clouds his judgement and blinds him to see past that. While he doesn't like that people make fun of Betty, he does worse. He doesn't make fun of her, he verbally humiliates her by the mere fact that he compares kissing her to a punishment, that he finds her affection to be a torment only for the fact that she's "ugly".

Armando continuedly flip flops from caring about Betty and her best interest to only caring about his. We're barely starting to see him take notice of Betty's interest but he still focuses mostly on what he wants and what he feels comfortable with. He doesn't once wonder if Betty does.

He finds her kisses a punishment because she isn't pretty. He finds her affection a torment because she isn't pretty. If she had the body and face of AA and the personality of Betty mans would proclaim it to the four winds and the seven seas. He would dump Marcela on the spot for her.

People are allowed to have types, we all have them. When do we draw the line between types and actively dehumanizing a certain group of people? When it no longer is based on preference but hatred and fear of said group.

Armando to this point hates that Betty isn't society's beauty standard. He hates that she isn't his idea of woman perfection but he lives tormented by the fact that he still cares about her. That he doesn't like it when people treat her poorly or make fun of her. That he hates it when they dehumanize her, (except he's a hypocrite because he does the exact same thing and he allows his best friend to do that exact thing.) and that he secretly enjoys her kisses and her affection. He hates all of this which is what truthfully makes him a miserable piece of ish.

These episode however are meant to help Armando accept Betty's physical appearance to a certain degree(lol I'm saying that a lot). He is forced to accept that he can't control the way a woman looks and that he can't change it either(I'll talk about this in the next post) Here he is faced with Betty's new look and he's forced to think about her feelings first than his own. He's confronted within himself that he is Betty's boyfriend. He is forced to find a way to tell her that her new look isn't it without tearing her confidence to shreds.

In other words Armando is forced to accept that Betty isn't a seggsual object but just because of that it doesn't mean she should get treated horribly. That the respect she deserves isn't only because of how good she is at her job but because she's a human, a person with feelings and with struggles of her own and that he doesn't like it that people don't see that.

But it foreshadows as well that he also has to accept Betty's physical appearance as it is and be okay with the attraction he has towards her, or at least prepare himself to accept that attraction.

Now as Armando and Calderon talk about how hot AA is Betty interrupts and leaves the office but overhears Armando call AA a mamasita and say that if she ever showed up that he'd throw everything away and marry her on the spot.

She seems annoyed by that as she shakes her head and walks away from the double doors.

Obviously our girl is hurt because not once has Armando mentioned her new look, not once has he made the effort to say anything about her physical appearance but there he is talking about how he'd end all his relationships without care of consequence if AA showed up and he'd marry her for the simple fact that she's hot.

Men really only have the audacity!

Here Betty is trying to escape her comfort zone(though she didn't get far from it) for the sake of Armando's ego. She's willing to face humiliation and ridicule if Armando likes her new look, even if she feels uncomfortable and knows how people are insulting her behind her back, and he hasn't said a single thing, instead he comments about how hot AA is.

I do want to note that Armando is behaving more like a boyfriend now. While in the past whenever the subject of his crushes or infatuation on Models was brought up he didn't reserve himself to express how hot they were or how he wanted to look presentable for them except now he pretends to show no interest in them when she's in the room. Better yet he pretends to be offended that(when the two models went to ask for their paycheck and tickled him) they'd flirt with him or try to play with him. Except this time he pretends like he isn't even aware of how hot she is and only is interested in her in a professional matter but as soon as she leaves the office she over hears how he truthfully feels.

She knows him well and because of this it does hurt her.

#armando mendoza #don armando #armando ysblf #analysis of ysblf #beatriz pinzon solano #beatriz pinzón solano #betty pinzón solano #betty #betty ysblf #betty la fea #yo soy betty la fea #marcela ysblf #marcela valencia #mario calderon #morch #hugo

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gallavictorious · 3 years

Text

Outsider POV Gallavich Fic: Captive Look

For a while there this spring, I was mildly obsessed with the CO in 10x03: you know, the good-looking guy who seems so completely unfazed by finding two armed inmates stabbing an old man, and then for whatever reason doesn't report it? (He can't have; Ian's parole wouldn't have happened so soon after something like that.) I also really dig his beard... Anyway, IMDB identifies him as Raymond and I've had this short little piece about him and his interactions with two certain dumbasses sitting almost finished in my draft doc for months and months and months, so... you're welcome? 2882 words, to help pass the time until the new episode!

You can read it below or on AO3.

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It's half past eight on a Thursday when Raymond catches sight of them across the bar at South Side Social. He’s there to celebrate his baby sister’s birthday, familial obligation overriding personal preference, but after an hour of politely chatting with her increasingly wasted college friends over obnoxiously rustic-only-because-it’s-trendy food, he’s ready for a break. Catching Tina’s eye, he mimes lightening a cigarette; she raises an eyebrow at him and smirks. She’s a clever kid, his sister – the first in their family to go to college – and she knows him only too well. Knows, for instance, that he gave up smoking years and years ago.

Offering her a rueful grin, he gets up and gets out and spends the next few minutes breathing in Chicago’s poisonous evening air. It’s December, but unusually warm for the season, and somewhere underneath the dusty stink of exhaust fumes and concrete there’s a faint trace of melting snow.

On the way back to the table Raymond stops at the bar to order another beer, and that’s when he spots them, just three feet away. Two men in their mid-twenties, casually dressed and apparently in the middle of a not-very-serious argument, complete with waving hands and mock-scoffs. It takes a moment for the vague feeling of familiarity to click into actual recognition, and when it's does it's not so much their faces as the way they pause to look at each other.

It's not the sort of look you see a lot, especially not in prison.

So, well, he’ll be damned. It’s Milkovich and Gallagher. Cellmates, lovers, and occasionally a goddamn pain in his ass. Released, as improbable as it sounded, within days of each other less than half a year ago, and now laughing over drinks in a half-way decent restaurant in downtown Chicago. It’s not the sort of place he’d expected to find them in – but then again, there’d been a lot of unexpected things about that pair.

Not them hooking up, necessarily, not once they’d ended up sharing a cell; trading sexual favors for protection (whether voluntarily or not) was common enough. Frowned upon in theory, of course, but in practice –

Well. You didn’t have to like it, but it was what it was. Idealism didn’t survive long at Beckham. Raymond himself had never harbored any grand notions about the redemptive potential of his work, but he’d seen his fair share of fresh-faced new CO:s have their illusions crushed after a week or two caught between the often violent offenders who despised them, the indifferent malice of many seasoned CO:s, and the stifling drudgery of the American penal system in general. Not Raymond, though: he did his job, did it well, and went home and didn't spend waste moment of thought on it. You did what you needed to do to pay the bills; no need to dwell on it.

So no, Gallager getting in bed, quite literally, with Milkovich hadn’t been a surprise. The nature of their relationship, though...

Sure, it wasn’t unheard of for inmates to fall for one another, or for established couples to end up in prison together. Didn’t happen a lot, and actual homosexuality was still more likely to get you beat up than laid, but yeah, it did happen. What, in Raymond’s experience, never happened was having to people look at each other the way Milkovich and Gallagher sometimes did, whenever they thought no one else was watching: there was a kind of wonder to it, both staring at the other like they’ve been handed a goddamn gift and couldn’t quite believe their luck.

Particularly on Milkovich’s face the look was baffling.

Ever since the young man arrived at Beckamn he'd moved down the gray corridors and among the yellow-clad crowds like a man born to it. Raymond supposed he was; his father Terry had spent much of his adult life in the very same prison, as had a great many brothers, cousins and assorted associates. Though Raymond didn't know any details, and didn't really care to know them, he'd bet dollars to donuts that Mickey Milkovich's criminal career had had both an early start and a sense of inevitability to it. Various stints in juvie, followed by a real prison sentence for... attempted murder, wasn't it?... followed by a widely publicized jailbreak and an eventual and far less publicized return to Beckman.

Milkovich was tough enough to make others back down when he had to but smart enough not to start any unnecessary fights, not with the other inmates and not with the ones set to watch over them. Knew how to work the system, too: how to get things in, get things done, which guards could be bribed. Raymond didn't play that game himself, but he wasn't getting paid enough not to turn a blind eye when others do. And Milkovich had been pretty smooth about it, especially since his return; careful not to cause a stir.

Gallagher, on the other hand... He'd been the kind of inmate Raymond would've been seriously worried for, had he been inclined to worry and had Milkovich not been there to watch his back and show him the ropes. Not because Gallagher struck Raymond as even remotely helpless, but he so very obviously did not belong in prison, and so very obviously did not really have a clue about what was what in here. The nastier inmates would have eaten him alive long before he'd had the chance to navigate the intricacies of prison politics and find the friends needed for protection. He'd have ended up someone's bitch, or ended up in the infirmary, or dead.

But he'd ended up with Milkovich, and as unlikely as it had seemed at the time, that had worked out. (There were moments when Raymond wondered about that, wondered about them: apart from the looks, there were little touches, too, casual things that spoke of a familiarity far beyond what they could possibly have developed in their short time in a shared cell.)

That wasn't to say that their relationship had been all rainbows and lollipops, and it sure as hell hadn't been fun for everybody. They’d driven half the cellblock insane sometimes, as well as occasionally one another. Other prisoners had complained about their bickering and their fucking (though never officially complained, because you didn't, not unless you wanted to go looking for your teeth in the shower drain), and Raymond recalled vividly the time when not one but both of them had gotten roped into Chester Russom’s endless quest to spend the rest of his life behind bars –

He'd been passing by the infirmary when he'd heard the screaming and come running. Hadn't been surprised, exactly, to find what he found, but that didn't lessen the urge to smack both Milkovich and Gallagher on the head for being so damned stupid.

Neither of them had seemed particularly concerned about getting caught stabbing another inmate. In fact, they'd fallen over themselves to take the blame, which Raymond might have taken as an unselfish attempt to save the other – if he'd been a complete idiot and if the two of them hadn't been sniping at each other all the way from the infirmary, to the point where he felt like his head would explode.

“Imma murder you two if you don't stop talking,” he said, glaring at them as they sat chained outside the small office. Thankfully, they did stop, looking neither at him nor at each other.

Raymond waited for a moment, deliberating.

“What did Chester promise you?” he eventually asked. Gallagher might have agreed to help the old man out of the goodness of his heart, but Milkovich sure as hell hadn't.

Neither man answered. They were studiously avoiding looking at each other.

“You're not going anywhere until you tell me,” Raymond warned them. “If I have to leave your sorry asses chained to this bench all night that's no skin off my back.”

“We needed a break,” Gallagher offered eventually, reluctantly. Milkovich gave a little snort at that, but – wisely – kept his mouth shut. “So we thought that if one of us got sent to solitary... “ He trailed off, shrugging half-heartedly.

Oh, for the love of God - ! “Why did both of you have to stab him if the goal was to get one of you to solitary?”

Again, there was a protracted silence, and somewhere in it – in their earlier insistence that each of them had been the first to stick the shiv into Chester – Raymond could just about make out the shape of it.

“You are both idiots,” he said, moving to uncuff them from the bench, making a decision. “Come on, let's go.”

“Wait,” Gallagher said, not rising. “You're not reporting us? What about solitary?””

“You don't get a damn reward for stabbing someone, so no, you're not going into solitary, you're going straight back to your cell – where you will hand over all contraband you've hidden there.”

“Now, wait a minute – “ Milkovich began, but he faltered when Raymond fixed him with a hard stare.

Raymond had no illusions about intimidating this particular inmate, but Milkovich really did know how this worked; knew better than to ever be friendly with a guard, not even the ones he bribed – but knew when not to push too.

He had kept their hands cuffed for the walk back to the cell, which was policy, but was him making a point too. While there were extenuating circumstances – primarily the fact that Chester had asked them to stab him – by all rights they should be going down for this, and Raymond wasn’t one hundred percent sure why he wasn't letting them. Save himself the paperwork? Yeah, sure. Why not? As good a reason as any.

“Now, am I going to have to search the cell or will you give it up voluntarily?” he asked once they'd made it to the cell. “You make me look, I won't be too careful with your shit.”

A lot of the guards would be deliberately careless when they tossd a cell, either to prove a point or just for the hell of it. Raymond usually didn't bother with that sort of power trip bullshit, but he was prepared to make an exception if these morons proved stupid enough to give him any more trouble. He was already cutting them considerable slack here, and neither of them have the brains to appreciate it.

They had shared a look, and then Milkovich gave an imperceptible nod. Without a word they set to bring forth an array of cigarettes and foodstuff, little things that would have been commonplace and unremarkable in the real world but was made precious by its scarcity on the inside.

Raymond wasn't naive enough to believe they actually gave him everything they'd got in there, but enough of it to inconvenience them, which would have to do. He grabbed the the items, then fixed them both with a firm look.

“Either of you cause me any more trouble, I'm taking your books,” – he pointed to Gallager, then to Milkovich – “and your pens and paper. You think you have it bad now? Imagine sharing a cell and having nothing else to occupy you.”

He had hoped to God he wouldn't have to make good on his threat, though. The other prisoners would probably riot if they have to put up with more of ´bickering from these two.

“I catch either of you with a shiv again, you'll be fucking sorry,” he continued. “Talk it out, or agree not to talk, or whatever. Split the cell into his and his, I don't give a damn. But sort your shit out.”

Maybe they had, maybe they hadn't; the point became moot just a few weeks later, when Gallagher was released. Milkovich had soon followed him – and how exactly that had happened, Raymond still didn't know, because there was no way in hell anyone actually thought releasing that one back into society was a great move – and that had been that. For now, at least; he fully expected to see Milkovich again. Guy like that wasn't going to quit, and sooner or later he'd get caught and find himself back behind bars. Rinse repeat, until he got himself killed or locked away for good.

Only now here Milkovich is, but in front of a bar rather than behind them, and with Gallagher right by his side, laughing like they'd never stabbed a man just to get away from each other.

Raymond hesitates. There's some small part of him that actually wants to step up and say hello, and that throws him a little. He's got a rule about never getting emotionally invested in the fates of the inmates; that way lies nothing but heartbreak, because most of those who find themselves at Beckman will find themselves there again and again, for longer and longer. Don't abuse the prisoners, but don't care too much either: it's been Raymond's private policy for the past five years, and it's worked out so far.

Except now he's actually considering chatting with a couple of convicts, just 'cause he really is a little bit curious about how this unlikely pair is doing.

But nah. Forget it. His rule aside, it'd be pretty uncool to intrude on their evening out. They're free men now – kind of – and having a CO check up on them can't be high on their list of wants. But before he can move away, they both look his way; sees him. Recognizes him, too, from the way they freeze.

Okay. Call it fate, then. “Hello,” Raymond says, going for neutral good and a little nod; I come in peace.

A beat. Milkovich is eyeing him with a wariness he doesn't bother to conceal and it's Gallagher who speaks first:

“Officer Reese,” he says, managing a polite smile. “Hi.”

Raymond notices the way they glance down at the beers they technically shouldn't be having.

“I'm not your PO,” he assures them. “I don't give a damn if you drink. Might want to take it easy, though,” he can’t help but add. “Getting shitfaced is a quick way to get into trouble.”

Milkovich opens his mouth, but after a quick glare from Gallagher he closes it again. Probably for the best; Raymond can’t imagine him playing even remotely nice now that he doesn’t have to.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your evening,” he says. “Looks like you’re doing all right.”

“Yeah, yeah, we've got jobs and... “ Gallagher pauses to glance at Milkovich again, as if asking his permission. Milkovich rolls his eyes but says nothing, and Gallagher turns his gaze back to Raymond. There's a real smile on his face now, small, but filled with something akin to disbelieving delight: “We got married. Couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, wow. Congratulations.” Raymond isn’t quite sure what surprises him more: the fact of their marriage, or the fact that he is genuinely happy for them. Maybe he’s getting soft in his old age… Or maybe it’s just that there’s so very few happy endings for those who find themselves at Beckman, whether as inmates or as guards, that they need to be treasured whenever you find them.

“Ian!” someone calls across the room, and Gallagher turns his head to look at a blonde woman gesturing wildly. “Where are those drinks?”

“Shit,” Gallagher mutters. “Better get this to Tami before she has a fit.”

Another smile, and Gallagher is gone. Milkovich, however, lingers, seemingly debating whether to say something more. Curious against his will, Raymond does his best to look approachable. Evidently, it works, because Milkovich clears his throat:

“You’d reported us when we stabbed that old fucker in the infirmary, Ian wouldn’t have gotten his release.” He pauses, looking uncomfortable, then forces out: “Appreciate it.”

Raymond merely nods. Maybe he should say something about being glad taking a chance on them had paid off, that he is glad to see them doing well – but he’s pretty sure Milkovich wouldn’t much appreciate the sentiment.

“Your boy doesn’t belong in prison,” he says instead.

Milkovich face immediately collapses into a scowl. “Well, I didn't fucking put him there,” he growls.

But Raymond isn’t intimated; just hold his gaze. “Gonna keep him out of trouble then?” Gonna stay out of trouble, he doesn’t ask, but Milkovich isn’t stupid, so he'll hear it all the same.

Milkovich still glares, but something in his eyes seem to soften ever so slightly. “You betcha. Won’t have anything on us ever again,” he promises ambiguously, with a cocky grin and one eyebrow raised.

When he walks away, swagger in every step, he is every bit the unrepentant gangster – but Raymond keeps his eyes on him and sees the way he relaxes as soon as he stops next to Gallagher. Reaches out to touch him lightly on the arm, catching his eye. That same wondering smile on both of their faces.

Raymond thinks that maybe he won't actually see either of them again.

He is glad of it.

#gallavich #fic #my stuff

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oddaodd · 3 years

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Hello I’m the person who requested “I Don't Go In For Sweets” and...just let me begin by saying thank you from the bottom of my heart, thank you for dedicating your time and your energy to write it, it was absolutely perfect and everything I wanted! I sent you this request the day before a huge exam (yes, instead of studying but that’s another story lol) and surprisingly, you posted the fic a day after I got my results and saw that I passed so it felt a bit like some reward and yeah I know you didn’t do it on purpose but still, it was amazing! Now let’s dive into a deeper analysis (I like to do this but it’s quite long, don’t feel forced to read it, no pressure!)

First, the very beginning: Polly and Tommy’s talk and how can I say this? It was so good, so well written I was actually seeing the scene as clearly as if I was watching the last episode of s3, I could actually hear them talk and see them move and it was too good to even feel like reading! I’m also so grateful you had the idea to bring the impact of Tommy’s mother’s death on him because...it’s not something we see a lot in the show but I’ve always been convinced that he had always been very affected by it and he would never want the same for his son.

Now, the wedding day: “The fact that everything about this wedding was so obscenely different from his first did soothe his guilt a bit” this kind of sums up a lot: Tommy compares all of this situation to what he had and rejoices over the fact it’s not as perfect, as beautiful, as great as what he had with Grace because it makes him feel slightly better, he isn’t betraying her as much as if he was enjoying marrying a new woman but then...she arrives and he can’t help it but find her pretty.

You perfectly showed this inner conflict of always having Grace in mind, always reminding himself of her and how better she was, this is not something he’s doing because he enjoys it but because it’s the best solution.

And of course he makes sure his opinion is known, he doesn’t smile back at the the altar, the big wedding kiss he gave to Grace is here, a simple, almost nonexistent brush on the lips, he doesn’t try to get to know his wife, on their way home, he has this revelatory lapsus “I've already asked the maids to take them up to your-our room” because deep down, it’s not his room or their room, it will only be hers because he won’t sleep in it much and he shows it a moment later when he doesn’t even sleep in the same room as her on their wedding night! I mean the scene where she’s waiting for him all nervous and giggly because she knows what happens...or at least she thinks she knows but then she wakes up alone in the morning, no “husband” in sight. Then comes breakfast, Tommy introduces her to Charlie (who wasn’t even at the wedding!!!) like he would present his new nanny because in a way...that’s what she is. He didn’t marry that girl because he wanted it but because it was something he knew his son needed. I really loved the fact you didn’t make Charlie love reader instantly because as kind hearted as he may be, he’s still a child who suddenly lives with an unknown woman his dad doesn’t even seem to like but one little discussion is enough to make him warm up to her and yeah I liked seeing this, it was very well done!

Then we get to see Tommy couldn’t care less about his wife and a thing kind of stroke me: reader has insomnia sometimes and Tommy doesn’t seem to worry or even think about it, he just sees it as more occasion for her to talk to him and ugh please no! And it shows how detached he can be which is so so in character! Afterwards you wrote about how he didn’t invite her to family meetings and stuff which I think was important to mention and maybe you didn’t think it this way but he keeps her away of very important part of his life: the business and the local bar he spends time with his family which is quite a...special place because that’s where he met Grace, that’s where their story began and family meetings? Inviting her would mean she’s part of their family, they trust her enough to welcome her but 1) he doesn’t really care about her enough to trust her and 2) would grace really have been invited to these meetings? Considering what she did? Definitely not so in not inviting his new wife, he doesn’t give her an advantage of being more welcomed in the family than grace was because, again, she’ll never be enough, she’ll never be grace. And it was so important to show this and you did it so beautifully, so subtly, wow!

The birthday party is also a great way to show that reader has a great relationship with everyone except her own husband and their convo in the office afterwards bluntly stated that. Tommy is so heartless, so cold, so...awful towards the woman he married! I really hated him in this moment because clearly she’s trying, she wants to make things alright but he will not let it, he will push her away no matter how harsh he has to be. And there is no apology, no compassion, nothing, he doesn’t care. He knows how bad his words hurt but he owes nothing to her.

And even when he’s awful to her, she still offer her time and her attention. He comes home completely drunk and considering the way he treated her, she could let him deal with his terrible state alone but she won’t, he’s her husband after all...I really loved how you turned that scene, we can see some of reader’s... I don’t know what to call it but so far, she let him have his space and now, when he rejects her help, she still gives him a hand. And then he compliments her, out of the blue and yeah he’s completely drunk but it feels true. And even better, he apologizes and explains his awful behavior and it was essential to have this! It was essential for reader to hear it from him that she didn’t do anything bad, it wasn’t her fault or anything, he just struggled with understanding what her place was. Even better, she reminds him she doesn’t want to take Grace’s place.

It was everything he needed to understand because right after this, he allows himself to let go a bit and then...a little bit more and again...some more until finally the stables scenes arrives! And my oh my! How much more beautiful could this story get? The fact they bond over something Tommy loves is just...amazing! It allows reader to see a gentle side of him because we all know how Tommy gets whenever he sees a horse, it could and will make any woman fall in love with him. And this scene holds so much...power and emotion, she trusts him enough to let him guide the horse even though she doesn’t know how to ride it and he assures her he won’t let her fall which is so important because he accepts the fact that she trusts him and he want to be worthy of that trust which is a big step because it means he cares. And they have the loveliest moment, just the two of them, no grace clouding his mind, no hatred, no unnecessary talk, just a husband and a wife enjoying the nice weather. He helps her off of the horse and he grabs her waist but he doesn’t feel the need to take off his hand and it shows progress, it shows he enjoys having her close and he looks at her, it’s the first thing that came to his mind, her beauty and now he doesn’t feel guilty about it. He stares at her, he enjoys it and he doesn’t want to stop. And finally because well, this story couldn’t just stop there, it reached a whole new peak in beauty: their real, true first kiss. It doesn’t mean we have a fairytale and happily ever after but it feels like a true promise of better things coming up, the kiss he gave her on their wedding day (as a way to seal their wedding vows) was given...reluctantly to say the least but now, he was promising her to be better in the future and truly respect those vows and it’s just the most perfect ending this story could have! It was just a magnificent, so beautifully well written story I don’t even know what to say anymore (and I think I’ve already said way more than I should be allowed to!) than it was perfect, you’re so talented and I’m so thankful you agreed to write this! I hope I haven’t killed you with my pages of review lol! Have a wonderful day <3

Ps. I didn’t proof read this so sorry for mistakes and nonsensical sentences :)

Hello!

First of all, thank you so much for writing me to tell me how much you appreciated your fic. I really like knowing that the person who requested a specific fic enjoyed it so, It means the world!

And just look at that! I certainly didn’t know anything about your exam, but what a marvelous most serendipitious coincidence! It makes everything seem much more magical, don’t you think? The universe never ceases to amaze me! 🥰

Also, thank you for the analysis. I always like to write things so that they go beyond words in order to convey feelings and stir deeper emotions and I’m so glad you not only perceived them but also liked what I was trying to project!

I too, feel in my bones that Tommy’s mother’s death affected him a lot. Maybe it’s not something that keeps him awake at night (or all nights) but I definitely feel like it is one of the thoughts he keeps on the back of his mind and is constantly nagging him. And polly of course is one of if not the only one who can see it.

As for the wedding and their marriage in general, I did want to show Tommy having this conflict because as we know, our man doesn’t let go of things easily. And like Tatiana Petrovna once said, his fear is freedom. Im not saying that Grace stopped him from being free, but he insisted on staying in the past, and when the reader comes up she’s basically carrying with her this humongous banner that reads FUTURE.

He does think the reader is pretty and he knows that his family accepts her and his son loves her but he doesn’t want to give in, he’s almost afraid of doing it, so what is the easiest thing to do? Push her away. And still when he’s awful to her she helps him because I want to believe she can also look behind the walls he so desperately put up around him. In the end I didn’t want to make it like *poof! They magically fell in love! * but like you said, I wanted it to end with a promise of better things to come.

Again, thank you so much for taking the time to write. I enjoyed analyzing Tommy’s mind with you and I hope you have a lovely day as well!

P.S: Congratulations on your exam results! 🤍💐

#lovely anon #odaanswers

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imagines4undertale · 4 years

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Ah, I’m sorry! 🥺 I was meaning the 5 love languages. There’s a quiz online, if that’d help. It has its own website, in fact. And, I suppose I’ll ask for the Horrortale bros plus a random Black. I’m super sorry for the lack of specifics first time around. 🤧 Hope I didn’t cause any trouble!

You’re fine! I’m just happy to be able to answer it. I hope that I did an okay job at it and that you enjoy. I won’t lie, this one took me a while because HT!Paps and Black are the most difficult for me to write, but I did my best! I’ll have some more Asks finished as soon as I can!

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HT!Sans(Axe)-

Axe’s love language will likely be words of affirmation. In the Underground, there isn’t enough time for people to set aside quality time for each other and there are very few quality things to be given. Even when he makes his way to the surface, Axe doesn’t see the point in many of these things. He likes hugs and affection decently well, but when he has moments of mental lapse he can quickly become violent if touched. Axe will respond to small gifts, but only really if they are food, like a snack bar or small bag of chips. The best way to love this skell is just through telling him how much you love him. Tell him how cute he is to you, how happy he makes you, how good he is at protecting and providing for you and his brother, just anything that you like about him. At first, he is just kind of weirded out as no one has ever really given him this type of praise, but overtime he’ll begin to melt whenever you say these kinds of things. He likes being acknowledged for his hard work and has a hard time seeing the good in himself. To have his small, pure, sweet little SO telling him he is someone worth loving is everything to him. Sometimes, if he’s had a rough day, he’ll just come to you asking for you to tell him he’s not a beast and that he’s a good person.

You were at home, sitting at the table, looking through a recipe book for recipes for the next week. The house was calm and the only noise that could be heard was Papy watching a cooking show on the TV in the living room. It took you a moment to realize what it was, but you began to feel a rumbling in the floor beneath your feet. Axe was in the building and he was pissed. A moment later you felt the door to your apartment slam against the door stopper you installed (Axe put the door handle through the wall) and then slammed back shut. The thudding footsteps made their way to the kitchen and when you looked up Axe was looming over you shaking as he huffed labored breaths. He looks down at you with his single eye light, seeming to hesitate for a moment.

“Hey sweetie, are yo-” You don’t get to finish as you are lifted sharply from your chair and carried out of the kitchen. It’s hard to see where he is going as your face is held in the fluff of his hood, but it felt like he was carrying you down the hallway to the bedroom. When he finally released you, he tossed you down onto your bed. You bounce for a second before you are pinned from the waste down by wrapping his arms around his hips. He hesitates for a moment before shakily exhaling into your stomach.

“t-tell me… tell me you love me. tell me i’m not a beast. please, i need to hear you say it.” He huffs into your shirt as his sharp finger bones dig into your shirt. You feel a slight dampness on your stomach. Resting your hand on his head, you begin to stroke his head avoiding the sharp edges of his skull. Petting his head, you whisper sweet words of your love and any good traits you can think of to your skeletal love. Eventually, his shoulders stop shaking and his breaths even out into the soft breaths of sleep. You let him rest like that until it’s time for dinner, gently rubbing his head as you think of how you can cheer Axe up when he wakes.

HT!Papyrus(Crooks)-

Crooks is going to react best to small acts of affection. He has almost the opposite mindset to his brother. Nice things are so hard to come by in the underground, and even above ground, having someone thinking of him and putting the thought into giving him a gift means so much to him. Find him a little piece of sea glass in the shape of a heart? He’ll keep it in his bed stand and will refer to it as “HiS LuCKy RocK”. Anything you get for him is going to be either “His LUcky” or “His FaVorIte” just because it came from his favorite human. He loves getting food gifts the most though. Candy bars, small sweets, cookies, chips, anything and everything edible will make him happy. You can surprise him with a chocolate bar when you walk in the door and he will spend the next half hour kissing your face and holding you close to him if you let him. If it’s food that you make just for him though, he might just melt through the floor with love sick happiness.

Crooks was going to be out all day, going to see a dentist about finally getting braces for his teeth. They wouldn’t be going on today, but the consultation was still going to take hours. Crooks had been nervous about it all week. He was more stable than he was even just months ago and was making great progress in his therapy, but he still had problem days. The lanky skeleton always worried about harming people or simply snapping at others and didn’t want to have an episode at the dentist's office. You or Sans would have gone with him, but you both had work in the morning and Crooks insisted that he “WaS No BAby BonEs” and would make due. When you did get off work though, a bit after noon, you were struck with an idea. You would make a special treat for Crooks to celebrate his progress and to reward him for going to the office on his own.

When Crooks finally walked through the door to your home after the long day of cramped offices and too many people he just wanted to scream into a pillow. He still liked being around people like he did before the hunger permeated the underground, but after a while the fight or flight instinct from living around so many unstable beings began to rear its ugly head. Crooks just needed some time with HIS human and things would be better. You weren’t on the couch or sitting at the table tapping away at your laptop.

“GUmDrop? WheRE ArE you?” Crooks’ cracking voice called through the house.

“In here sweetie! Come here!” You call back from the kitchen with a smile in your voice. Crooks sets down the pamphlets the dentist gave him on his braces and lumbers into the kitchen. A sweet scent hits him as he enters and he looks over to the wide section of counter next to the stove. Stacked high on a cake stand was a layered crepe cake. The cake was about 8 inches high with whipped cream peeking out from each layer and topped with a chocolate ganache and strawberries. Next to it was you, hands lightly covered in whipped cream and face decorated with a wide grin as you say, “Surprise sunshine! I made you a little treat to celebrate your road to recovery!” Crooks just stands there for a moment as a small line of drool slides down his jaw. He wipes it off as he makes his way across the kitchen to you and the cake. Looking between the two, he picks you up so your eyes are level with one another before kissing your forehead and snuggling you to his chest.

“YoU arE the SwEEtEST HuMAN EVER!” His voice vibrates through you. “And thE Best DATe matE A MonsTer COUld ASK foR.... BuT I HOPe You KNOw thAt I aM GoinG To EAt thIs whoLE ThinG MySelF.”

“That’s why I already ate a crepe before you got here.” You say with a knowing laugh.

“LIkE i SAId, ThE BEsT!” Crooks giggles as he puts you down to find a fork and devour your creation.

SF!Sans(Black)-

Black’s love language is likely going to be acts of service. Black has a more militaristic view on relationships, often treating Mutt more like a subordinate than a brother. He still cares for him, but he just shows it in odd ways. Because of this, Black likes acts of affection that show you are loyal to him or that show you care for him. Do things that he asks of you when he asks it, or proactively do things you know he likes done. Remember things that he likes and dislikes and show that you listen to him. If you show up to events that are important to him with flowers to congratulate him, you might just get to see his rare “heart melting with love” face. He often gets ignored for his shorter stature, so to have you listen to him, treat him like an equal, and go out of your way for him is going to make him happy and value you in return. Eventually, this will evolve into Black thinking of you, and privately calling you, his queen or princess (or king, prince, if you prefer) to his king. He’ll treat you that way too, like you are his precious equal in love and in life, spoiling you whenever he can. Your respectful and loving actions are all he needs to know that you truly care for him and that you are the one for him.

Black has been in his office for most of the day working away. He has homework to do for his police academy training and will not be getting anything less than an A+. The other trainees already haze him for his stature and appearance and he won’t be caught dead with his grades lower than those rude buffoons. Black would be lying if he said that his spine wasn’t aching from sitting there for so long though. A call from the front room catches his attention. You seem to be home from your day of errands. Now seemed like a good time for a break. Walking into the main room, Black calls back to you welcoming you home with a kiss to the cheek.

“Oh, hello my bony prince. It has been such a long day, but a productive one!” You say with an excited bounce as you lay some bags you were carrying on the ground. “Guess what I did today.” Black gives a inquisitive hum as he looks over your shoulder at you fumbling through the bags on the floor. “Well you know how you said that you weren’t able to find the ingredients for that recipe you found online? Well, I had to go to four different stores, but I finally found it. Along with that, since I was already going all over town anyways, I picked up your uniform from the dry cleaning so you don’t have to tomorrow morning. To top it off, I found an outfit that perfectly matches the suit that you have for that Napstabot party next week. I remembered you saying something once about how ‘all good power couples should match’, right?” You straighten up with Black’s dry cleaning bag in hand. When you look over to him he just has a look of surprise on his face before it melts into a warm smile. He walks to you, taking the bag and tossing it to the couch’s arm before cupping your face and kissing you softly. When you break the kiss he is still smiling and then picks you up below the bottom and lifts you into a short spin.

“WHAT WOULD THE TERRIBLE SANS DO WITHOUT HIS BEAUTIFUL QUEEN BY HIS SIDE?” He asks with a soft chuckle.

“Probably be just as amazing as you always are, but I do try to help your magnificence where I can.” You say with a sly smile as you rest your arms on his shoulders and your forehead on his.

“MEHEHE~, THAT MAY BE TRUE, BUT IT IS STILL PREFERRED YOU HERE, WITHIN KISSING RANGE.” Black laughs as he carries you to lay on the couch, homework forgotten for now.

(Feedback is always welcome, and I’m open for asks!)

#undertale imagines #ht!papyrus #ht!sans #sf!sans #I'm back!#and ready to answer more asks #Undertale #sans #papyrus #ask #answer

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 3 years

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Share a Lair 16 || Thunderstruck Birthday Girl

This is basically just self indulgent Charlotte love showering. I generally write Charlotte as an April Taurus, because of when her birthday episode aired, so I figured this is around the time that I can just do a little cute, fun, show of love and stuff, and also give her a chance to get some nice things. It is mostly just filler, but does have at least one important piece of story and I’ll get back to the crucial parts with the next installment.

Charlotte liked a lowkey birthday. Usually, she had brunch and cake with her parents and spent it with the guys in the evening. This year, Max made a bunch of plans for her, and she was curious to see how well he would do with this, so she planned to have brunch with her parents and told the guys that she would touch base with them later in the night. At some point during making plans, the boys got competitive via casual conversation and so she was told that they were going to have a bake off and that as the birthday girl, she would be able to determine who baked the best cake. “So, you’re gonna have like four cakes?” Max asked.

“Knowing the guys, not a single one of the cakes that they plan on making will make it, whether due to calamity or them just eating all of the cake.” But, if there was cake, she was definitely having some of each.

After brunch, Max picked her up from the bistro, not really being that concerned that she wasn’t introducing him to her parents yet. He got a glimpse of them hugging her before leaving and they seemed extremely intimidating. He already didn’t like parents and hers were both successful in their own right and high maintenance from what he understood. Even the bistro that they were at was an exclusive place. Each guest had a personal server, and whenever the Pages came through, their Jamaican chef was given access to the kitchen to prepare their meals for special occasions. This morning, Charlotte had been presented with an authentic Jamaican breakfast and bottomless brunch drinks. Max couldn’t recall ever having had a brunch, much less one in an exclusive bistro, with a personal chef, personal server, and access to all of the bar.

Superhero life paid extremely well, but it was more of a trade off, since one’s body and health was on the line with each mission. Charlotte’s father was a physicist and spent more time working than he did at home. Her mother was a college chancellor and was home just as much as her husband, even though her job was only about an hour away. They tried to make up for the blank spaces with extravagant gifts and expensive celebrations, but Charlotte was simply always happy just to be able to see both of them at once for a little bit of time, even though half of it was generally spent with her having to update them on exactly how her educational career was going and have enough accolades and credentials to account for the time she couldn’t tell them about as a hero’s tech specialist. Learning that made Max understand her overachiever complex a little bit better, but he wanted the rest of her birthday to be as relaxing and rewarding as possible.

He took the scenic route back to the lair and she leaned her seat back and rested, watching everything and listening to a playlist that he made for her. He had several. One for when she goes to sleep, one for her workday, one for when she studied, etc. This one was one that he made for car trips with her. One of his favorite things about doing stuff for her was that she always noticed. The first time he’d made her a playlist, she’d said, “You had to have made this thing specifically for me, right?” He wanted to deny it, but noticed how excited that made her and confessed. It was an amazing feeling to do something for someone special and have them not only not take it for granted, but to really appreciate it. Max didn’t always receive that from his loved ones, but he usually did from Charlotte. He was confident that she was going to LOVE her birthday time with him.

She liked being around a lot of people less than he did. So, where he might be down for a party with his friends and loved ones, she was more like her family was over here for this amount of time, and her friends over there, for that amount of time. Everything and everybody had their time and place.

But, she told him not too long ago, “I never get tired of being around you though. It’s like… you’re practically a part of me.” She said it all casually, matter of factly. He couldn’t even hear her emotion in it, but he definitely started crying. Then there was this whole thing where she thought that maybe she said the wrong thing and tried to comfort him and apologize and explain better, “I’m not saying that you aren’t your own person or anything, just that like… my life is comfortable no matter how much of you is in it…” He had to compose himself to let her know that he was happy to hear it, not upset. He also apologized for crying, because damn… that couldn’t be sexy. Turns out, it was… as long as it’s warranted and not over every little thing! So, that was bonus scores for him.

Max made Henry “be scarce” from the lair for today, which was fine by him, because he had to “Serve these fools in the cakes department, anyway!” And Max just… Didn’t even WANT to know what that meant, but was relieved to later find out that it was about baking cakes and not the booty shaking contest that his brain automatically convinced him it would be. So, whenever Charlotte walked in and the place was set up like a spa, she gasped. “What’s happening?”

“You always want to grab a spa day, but you’ve cancelled like a dozen times because of work demands. So, I set up a home spa day for you… I did get funding from Dr. Page and Dr. Page, but they knew that you deserved it and since Henry asked, they just wired it to your birthday fund.”

“You and Henry got money from my parents for a birthday spa day for me?”

“I sent Henry to get money, yes. Is that alright?”

She covered her face, “That is SO SWEET! They could have eaten him alive. They’re very inquisitive people.”

“I sent him with an outline of all of the plans,” he said, with a shrug.

“You know me so well that you know how my parents are, even though I haven’t introduced you yet!” She was thunderstruck. He took her bags and handed her a robe and slippers…

After her spa treatment day, complete with Max playing guitar and singing her some songs during interludes while she waited for something to dry or settle, or whatever, she felt brand new. She hadn’t realized how stressed she’d been, even though Max does stuff for her whenever he can, she obviously had still been hella stressed out - probably because of Russia, graduation, Jasper and Henry, spa days being cancelled… But, she NEEDED this and Max giving her what she needed, right on time? She would miss that when he was gone. Now, she was sad for a moment.

“Time for gift presentation!” He said, distracting her from missing him before he was gone. She perked up, skin radiant, silky smooth curls popping, and her smile beaming. She was still in her robe and had her spa day swag bag next to her, which were packages of the products used today in her spa day treatment and also products from the spa that supplied the materials. “First of all, we have…” he spun his finger around and the kitchen island rotated to reveal where he had hidden all of her gifts, apparently (and she had forgotten that this lair had many secret areas, but he obviously hadn’t). He reached for a huge bag and beckoned it to her. “From the Hart household, warmth and comfort in the form of new silk sheets and pillowcases, plus fuzzy blankets and bamboo pillows!”

“YES!” She had been saying she needed these forever, but not getting around to ordering any because other stuff seemed more important everything she thought about it. She LIVED for luxury, though, she often talked herself out of it.

“From Henry, himself, an assortment of fine chocolates, a wine drinking accessories set, and a collection of gourmet cheeses.”

“Ooooh… He must’ve gone into his hero funds for this!” She said, pulling things out of Henry’s gift bag.

“He did!” Max cheered. “Jasper got you…” He gave her the bucket, wrapped kind of like an Easter basket, “A stationary pail.” There was something weird in his voice. He probably had asked Jasper to get something else and Jasper was having none of it.

She opened it to see a personal planner, a personalized pen and journal set, scented stickers, sticky pads, etc and she squealed. “He got them to match the scheme of my home office whenever I set up my new place after college!” Max furrowed his eyebrows and she explained, “You see, Max… You are very smart and pay attention to detail, but Jasper has known me for a really long time and sometimes has even the most menial of my lifestyle choices down pat.”

“Your work dads got you tickets to the Graduation Concert Festival,” he said, handing her an envelope and ignoring the declaration about Jasper. “My parents got you a kitchen set for your post graduation apartment… Well… actually, my Cousin Blobbin did, but it was my mom’s idea. Cookware and appliances!”

“That’s… nice!” She said. She had just realized that she hadn’t gotten anything for that, yet. Just an electric kettle, a spice rack, and whatever she was going to cop from her parents’ kitchen. This was a much better situation! She had a few more pretty great gifts that she appreciated, then they were down to the last few, which were all from Max. He sat down next to her and she set aside everything that she had and let him hold both of her hands, wondering why it got so serious all of a sudden.

“Charlotte… The past months that I’ve known you have been amazing to me. Even before we got together, just looking forward to experiencing and learning you everyday has been everything that I’ve ever wanted from another person. : Hesighed and looked at their hands, “I’m officially scheduled to go to Russia for three years.” His shoulders sank. “And I know that you plan to visit and that we plan to continue long distance, but that’s still so tentative for me and scary - the thought of you being tasked with waiting on me to come back. But…” He looked over at the counter and floated something to himself, “If you want, you can stay in my comeback home.” He handed her a set of keys with a SuperMax keychain attached to it. “I know that you’ve been looking for apartments and this is actually a house, but…”

“You are asking me to move in with you for 3 years from now?” She asked.

“No! I’m asking you to move in now and get comfortable and make it your own, then whenever I’m back… we can get used to living together again, and you’ll already be set.” Her eyes widened, “But, if you don’t want to, I understand! We haven’t even been together for a year and who knows how Russia will change us.” He pressed a button on the remote on her keys and a holographic image of the house projected from it, “But, if you want to, I’m welcoming you to.” It was an elevated house on top of pillars, a garden with stair rails on either side and a carport. “And you’ll have full access to my underground lab and lair.”

“This is a super cute house,” she said, in a tiny voice. “And a very sweet notion. I’ll… think about it…” Sensibly, she and Max had not been together long enough for this move, but also, their circumstances were special. They lived together already, basically, and their timeline was rushed for a number of reasons… But, just living with him alone, and actually moving in and keeping it while he was on tour was… a lot that she had to rationally comb through. He understood, and was grateful that she didn’t flat out say no and tell him that he was crazy for thinking she’d even want to.

“On a lighter note!” He changed the subject, “I present to you, some of my most inspired works of art…” He gave her a portfolio of several portraits that he had done of her, some very casual and cool, some extremely detailed and graphic, some as herself, some reimagined in other forms and styles. “They’re mostly from the pining days,” he said, bashfully. “But, I’m working on a big piece to hang in the comeback house.” She flipped through pages of her face, beautifully rendered and covered her heart.

“These are really good, Max.”

“I usually just draw project schematics and costumes, but I was having a phase where every time I tried, I had to draw you first, or I’d be distracted the whole time.

“I love it.”

“I figured that I did need to get you a REAL gift, though, so…” He reached for a jewelry box and opened it. It looked elegant, like fine jewelry - a set with a necklace, earrings, bracelet and a ring. “Shapeshifting jewelry!”

“I’m sorry, what kind?”

He put the ring onto his pinky, because it would not fit anywhere else and it lit up, then it reformed itself, unbuilding and then rebuilding to look like a skull and crossbones ring. She gasped. “It scans your body and gets a record of your outfit and accommodates it. Very fun technology to have.” He took it off and handed it back. She put it on her ring finger and once again, it reformed and became a cute, thin band with a tiny pink jewel.

“This is amazing! I’ve never seen it before.”

“Experimental tech being used for facial imagery reconstruction whenever supers get unmasked. I took the principles and put them in your jewelry!” He said, proud of himself. She was proud, too. She honestly had THEE BEST BOYFRIEND. “And, in case you felt like that was a little too much, or whatever, I have backup gifts of a simpler nature. There’s this coupon book of treats and services, yes several of them are sexual, because I made it and I can,” (she laughed) “There is this HUGE concentration candle, I mean… LOOK at this thing! Oh, and this.” He handed her some folded paper. “It’s a handwritten love letter, basically me being kind of a loser and telling you all of my feelings, but on paper, like a madman…”

“Yes,” she said, snatching it.

“Yes, I’m a madman?”

“No… Well… yes, but… yes, I’ll move into your comeback home after college graduation.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

“To clarify… Was it the letter?”

“It was the… Max. You’re perfect, Dude. I just…” she shrugged and rested her head on him.

Whenever Charlotte made her way to the Man Cave, she heard the hijinks as soon as she stepped off of the elevator, and what she saw was four grown men and a young girl all fussing and covered in cake. “Did any of you save any cake?” She called from the elevator. They didn’t stop fussing or even seem to hear or notice her, so she looked around and saw a plate wrapped in saran wrap with assorted slices of cake, “I’m gonna presume that this is mine and leave with it if nobody notices that I’m here!” she called out. They were still fussing at each other and then Ray slapped Jasper in the face with a glob of icing, to which, Jasper growled and charged him and Schwoz, Henry and Piper, began to try to break it up, but all that could be seen was cake and icing flying everywhere. Charlotte left and whenever she did, she heard as the elevator door was closing, “Did any of you hear Charlotte’s voice?”

“Nice try, Henry! You don’t get away from this that easily!” Piper screamed.

“I honestly don’t want to know,” Charlotte told herself. But, she honestly did, too.

Shortly before Midnight, whenever she came back, everything was cleaned up and she announced, “Bringing back the plate!”

“SURPRISE!” Everyone jumped out and screamed, making her scream and drop the plate which shattered on the floor.

They ignored it and began to sing the happy birthday song to her, gathered around a cake platter that Schwoz was holding, only it had an amorphous cake on it, and could hardly hold the candles. It looked like a disaster from a cartoon. She blew out the candles and looked at them, suspiciously, “So, is this the only cake? What happened to the bake off?”

“Bake off?” Ray repeated. “We don’t have to prove that any of us are any better than the others. Besides, it’s YOUR birthday! Today was about you.”

“Did you all fight the entire time, have a huge cake fight, then gather up which pieces of cake that you could and cover it in icing to present as my birthday cake?” Everyone’s face showed that they were caught! That was EXACTLY what had happened. But Ray scoffed and said, “No! And quite frankly Charlotte, it is insulting that you would accuse us of such…”

“I saw you earlier. I took that plate of cake,” she pointed to the broken plate on the floor.

Henry began to fuss about how HE KNEW he’d heard her voice earlier, while Ray was fussing about the broken plate and Jasper was asking which cake was the best. Upon hearing that question, they all became more interested in that, “Yeah, which one? Which? Huh? Bet it was mine…”

“Ummm… they were all actually delicious, but I preferred the lemon one…”

“YES!” Jasper cheered and began to gloat in everybody’s face. “Max liked the chocolate one that tasted like a 5 year old just threw all their favorite things into a cake.”

“I TOLD ALL OF YOU THAT I AM THE CAKE COMMANDO!” Ray yelled. She figured that was his, because it was just a bunch of different chocolate things in a cake - chocolate cookie crumbles, chocolate chips, chocolate candy - she felt sick after one bite of that.

“Yeah, well, he’s probably gonna order one for his dad’s birthday.”

“Thunder Man? He’s still alive?” Ray asked.

Piper asked, “So… you didn’t like the pineapple right side up cake?”

“I did.”

“The chocolate covered strawberry cake was a delicious masterpiece!” Henry fussed.

“It was.”

Schwoz offered, “I think that you may have misjudged the dreamsicle and pickle cake.”

“I did not misjudge it, because I didn’t know what it was and refused to try it. Max said that he didn’t know how it worked, but it somehow did.”

SHe held out her hands, “I enjoyed everybody’s cake…” She pointed at Schwoz,’ “Except for yours.”

“Awwww,” he said, crestfallen.

“But, Jasper asked which one I thought was best and…”

“And she said it without much of a thought that she preferred the lemon icebox layered sponge cake with whipped white chocolate cream cheese icing. TOLD. YOU. GUYS!” He fist bumped her and she just laughed a little bit.

Henry commented, “I got beat with an egg beater for nothing.

“Not for nothing!” Charlotte said. “I completely want that chocolate covered strawberries cake programmed into the auto snacker for my next monthly.”

“My dreamsicle and pickle cake was the only one that used organic ingredients,” Schwoz pouted.

“I will NEVER try it. You won’t EVER tell me anything to make me try a Dreamsicle and pickle cake, Schwoz!” Charlotte said.

Jasper said, “Well… I’m gonna have some of this birthday cake,” and grabbed a plate and the cake cutter.

“Cut me a piece, too!” Henry asked. They all sat down and had a plate with fallen pieces of their various cakes on it and turned on a movie to watch.

“This was actually my best birthday in a while,” Charlotte noted. She didn’t need to go into detail about Max and how perfect he was. Her friends were all happy and full of cake and even that, in it’s own way, was equally as perfect.

#Share a Lair #Henry Danger #The Thundermans #crossover #crossover fanfic #Nesha Crossover #Thundanger #Thunderbolt #Share a Lair Repost #Nesha HD Fanfic #fanfiction #Share a Lair 16 #Serving me Canon Energy

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hacelee-mp100 · 3 years

Text

What I Am Missing

Reigen’s POV on an old high school friend

The dim lighting blends in with the chattering and the music. Compared to the long bland day I waited out in my office, the sensations from this place are an overload. In a good way, I tell myself as I take a seat at the bar table. It’s good stimulation for someone who’s spent most of the day in an empty office, thoughts bouncing off the hollow walls. I’m in the hustle and bustle again. Now I get to let the outer voices bounce me around.

The bartender catches sight of me and slides over to take my order. A lemon sour cocktail, I tell him. Please. The clink of ice hints at the refreshing sensation of the liquid soon to pass down my throat. I already know what it would feel like. This is more of a routine than a reward. Routines are better than holding a notion of rewards. You get disappointed if the reward doesn’t compensate for what you were building up to. It’s better if you never get started on the notion of a reward in the first place. The cold seeps into my palm as I wrap my hand around the glass. Integrate these mini rewards like these into a routine, like fast food. They’re good, functional. Just a short break from the work you’ll have to get back to one way or the other. Before I know it, I’ve already drowned half the glass. I set the glass back down, the clink barely audible over the numbing chatter. My sigh doesn’t push the burble out of my eardrums.

The bartender must’ve been watching me out of the corner of his eye. “Them kids bothering you?” he asks. “I’d invite you over to a private sector if we had one built into the architecture.”

I glance over my shoulder to see that it’s mostly college students in the bar. “Midterm season, huh?”

The bartender lets out a good-natured laugh. “Looks like you’re in the know. We get more of them during the exam season than after. They need an outlet for all the stress.”

“Don’t we all.”

“We get loads.” The bartender leans forward on the counter and nods toward the rowdy groups of people scattered throughout the bar. “From college kids to middle-aged and older. Buddies living through life, chewing through things together. Sometimes I imagine they’re all the same people. Living out different stages of life.”

“Mmm,” I entertain the thought. “The only stage you’re missing is the underage. You only get to see the weaning.”

“Right, the weaning from protected childhood. I suppose you need a place to chew over and take in the world that slowly loses flavor compared to the childhood glories.”

“Like a good ol’ chewing gum. All the flavor’s bled out, but you keep on chewing.”

“Just keep chewing, just keep chewing, chewing, chewing...“ I recognize Dory's ‘just keep swimming’ tone in the bartender’s voice. He laughs it off and turns his eyes on me. “I see the loners, too. Us analyzers, commentators. There’s the living part. The sharing. And the commenting.”

He’s rushing it. It’s strange to feel the velocity of the conversation when it’s me who normally speeds ahead. I didn’t want to think of him today. There’s laughter among the college students.

“There’s something bothering you. I can tell. Rough day, eh?” The bartender’s voice seems way too far away. I internally shake myself to clear the fog.

“Close. More like loud thoughts.” I look up in my best attempt to imitate the bartender’s good-natured smirk, tapping on my head. “Nothing a good wash of alcohol won’t fix.”

“Ahh. No need to spell it out. Wash it away, wash it good.”

With a reassuring nod that might as well be a clap on the shoulder, the bartender saunters off.

This guy’s the epitome of a bartender, ready to talk about life but knowing when to leave people alone. If this is his regular shift, I’d mark this place as a great hop over spot for whenever I want to feel the bustling. But the crowd. It’s too loud. The chatter’s really getting to me, and I quickly down the rest of my drink.

—————

It wasn’t just the chatter, I realize as I climb the stairs to my apartment. It was the college students, the scene that landed too close to what I’ve been trying to bury. I thought it would be my reality. I didn’t know it would be an image I’d observe from afar. Not that it was tangible at the time. It was simply what I perceived as the given. It’s not part of my life now.

My quivering vision morphs my shoes into sneakers bracing against the metallic ridges of my high school stairs. My feet create the same footsteps as when we climbed up the stairs for our music class.

There’s something hurling up in me. I briefly consider pausing to retch, but decide it’s not worth it. It’s disorienting when I don’t have my sensations aligned and categorized. I need to place my finger on the cause of this nausea. I know what this is. I am already thinking in response to what he would’ve said. I’m preparing to defend myself in a match that will never take place.

“Would you stop it,” he had told me once. He said it like a statement of fact, as if it had the same gravity as the list of evidence I was bringing up at the time to support my claim. I don’t remember the specifics of the topic we were on. I just remember the abruptness that didn’t fit in with the context.

“Mind clarifying the ‘it’?”

“Okay.” He paused. “How do you imagine us seven years down the line?”

Though I was thinking it wasn’t at all relevant, I decided to play along. “At a bar somewhere, I guess, tired from work and washing down our stress with a couple of beers.”

“What will we be talking about.”

“Uh… shitty bosses. Lamenting on our career choices. Commenting on passerby’s.”

“Right. We’ll be talking of others. Talking about other people.”

He let the conversation trail off that time. He was a strange one. He went by his own agenda. It could have been that sense of gravity that drew me to him over and over again, even though he wasn’t in my friend circle at school. We hung out from time to time after the extracurricular activities. I bailed on volleyball practice more often than not because it lasted longer than his book club meetings. When we walked home together, he would tug roughly on his bicycle handles and jolt the hardcover book in his front basket.

I tried to establish a routine, and for a while it seemed like he accepted it. Save for these strange episodes when he would try to tell me something about myself that he couldn’t even name. In moments like these, I would get the peculiar sense of cold metallic ridges digging into my ribs, as if I were the book in his basket.

When the conversation cropped up again, he picked it back up like we skipped over the weeks in between.

“People can sense it, you know. When you put up a front.”

“Yeah, I agree it’s pretty easy to spot,” I said, not missing a beat. I couldn't afford to miss any beats. The cold was seeping into my sides again, and I had to warm them back up. “Body language is bound to give people away, whether it be eye or hand movements. From their gaze to the angle of their arms to the tremor in their hands, it’s really not that hard to detect.”

He didn't fall in pace with my rambling. “But it wasn’t because of the tremor that I caught you.”

“Seems like you’re pretty good at reading contexts, then. Do you get that from all the books you read?”

“They help.” He tugged on the handlebars to get his bike over a bump in the ground. “You don’t need to fake that you’re okay. Not in front of me, at least.” He said it nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t even embarrassed about bringing up to the surface what I would clearly prefer to leave unaddressed.

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.” That was the truth. I had no understanding of the cold.

“I’m not trying to put you on the spot, jeez.”

We ran into a group of mutual friends at the crossroad, and the awkward spot in the conversation dissipated.

I think I maniacally avoided that train of conversation. Physically avoiding him would only prove its existence, so I tried to crowd our moments with my comments. It was easier in larger groups of people, because there were only so many ways you could act once the group flow was set. I was excellent at tugging the strings in that setting, a power that became null when I was with him alone.

He seemed to have picked up my routine of walking home after club hours, because he started waiting for my volleyball practice to finish. It was during one of those walks after club hours that he finally laid out what was bothering him. There was that telling pause before he talked, the pause that always came before he would make an insight-laden comment in a group setting. He talked slow., like he was just figuring this out.

“It’s hard to get through to you, Reigen. It’s hard to… I always have to spell things out for you to get it, and that sometimes goes against the grain of the whole thing, you know?”

He wasn’t always good with words, and I could fill in the gaps most of the time. I was at a loss for this one, though.

“Dude, you gotta give me more to work with.”

Was it because I didn’t like talking about myself enough? Was it because I liked to categorize other people? I thought I was doing well reading the undercurrents. I knew how to please people, but it was so much tougher with him. Maybe I could cater to his tastes more if I could figure out the part that went over my head. It was body language, most likely, since that’s the only other form of communication aside from words. In the back of my mind, I was thinking: would you put the damn thing in words so I don’t have to keep shooting in the dark?

“I’m trying here,” he complained, as if he could read my thoughts. He furrowed his eyebrows, and his eyes traveled to the book in his basket. I was surprised when he actually picked it up.

“I’ve been reading this on and off. It’s a narrative book on relationships and bonds, sort of.” He held the book out to me. “I want you to read this.”

“Sounds great.” I took the book, feeling the dents it got from getting bounced around in the metal basket.

The continued furrow in his eyebrows told me that he was still on the task of clarifying his words, forcing me to keep my mouth shut. I silently hoped that we’d run into a group of mutual friends like the last time this happened. But it was too late in the day. He had waited for my volleyball practice to end to walk home with me, and there was usually no one around at this time. Our shadows stretched long in the orange light.

Instead of the group of people, I got what I was almost dreading.

“You lack internal narration,” he said, almost proud of having found the words. Finally. “And I want you to stop trying to make up for it by stealing other people’s.”

—————

The book was actually a collection of short stories. Even though they weren’t long in length, the stories’ plot lines stretched out painfully. The characters were all Hamlet equivalents. I never enjoyed the play. I returned the book to him and he did not ask what I got out of it.

This was a full year before we graduated high school, way before we parted ways. That last year was good. We went skiing together with the mutual friend group. He brought me along on a trip with his old friends, too, so it wasn’t like that incident was the beginning of the end.

Except that memory stands out to me as the stamping of the expiration date for my time with him.

At the time I couldn’t understand what he meant by narration. What in the world is an internal narration. I was all but narration when it came to describing situations. The nonstop stream of words was my jam. Besides, it was a harsh thing to say, to anyone. If I cut all context and presented the situation to an outsider, I’m pretty sure the common response would be: that’s a shitty friend.

No, but I liked the guy. He was cool. He would sometimes throw me off because he seemed to be completely oblivious to the social hierarchy in school. He’d casually mention the social pariahs in front of the popular crowd, completely disregarding the unspoken division. This made it hard for me to gauge where I stood with him.

It wasn’t out of malice that he said that to me. He was telling me something because he cared. Something most people wouldn’t have even noticed, or cared to bring up to the surface. I wonder if he knew that we wouldn’t keep in touch, the same way he perceived this unspoken part of me. What I am left with are the bare facts. It’s statistically hard to keep in touch with everyone. It makes sense that he is one of the many I lost touch with.

But I can’t find the narration that connects the dots between these facts.

The night air is sticky. I inhale deep from my cigarette and get a big gulp of asphalt, concrete, and smoke residue. I heave a deep sigh, but it doesn’t push the stickiness out of my lungs.

A part of me wants to dismiss this as an episode of sentiments. Or find a solution. Why mull over something if you can’t do anything about it? Why mull over if you can? Logic cuts off either path. The solution comes in actions because we live in the present.

Another, more sinister part of me notes that I am slipping further away from what I had wanted at the time by thinking this. He knew it. He saw it. I never talked about it but he knew what it was that I wanted. That’s why he was telling me I wasn’t there yet. It wasn’t to present a solution. He probably didn’t know it himself. He was noting my situation because it was visible to him, because he had access to my narration that I never spelled out to him.

My head hurts. Alcohol and smoking probably weren’t a good mix. I cut my entire train of thought short and snuff out the cigarette. There was a kid coming to my place these days. I don’t know how long it would last, but I should try and cut back on smoking just for the time being. Here’s to another beginning to something I have no idea how long it would last.

I will sleep to sink me in the depths, to speed me past to the other side of tomorrow, where busy actions would patch up this gaping emptiness.

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neshabeingchildish · 4 years

Text

Thunderstruck Birthday Girl

Share-a-Lair 16

“You and Henry got money from my parents for a birthday spa day for me?”

“I sent Henry to get money, yes. Is that alright?”

She covered her face, “That is SO SWEET! They could have eaten him alive. They’re very inquisitive people.”

“I sent him with an outline of all of the plans,” he said, with a shrug.

“You know me so well that you know how my parents are, even though I haven’t introduced you yet!” She was thunderstruck. He took her bags and handed her a robe and slippers…

“From Henry, himself, an assortment of fine chocolates, a wine drinking accessories set, and a collection of gourmet cheeses.”

“Ooooh… He must’ve gone into his hero funds for this!” She said, pulling things out of Henry’s gift bag.

“You are asking me to move in with you for 3 years from now?” She asked.

“These are really good, Max.”

“I usually just draw project schematics and costumes, but I was having a phase where every time I tried, I had to draw you first, or I’d be distracted the whole time.

“I love it.”

“I’m sorry, what kind?”

“This is amazing! I’ve never seen it before.”

“Yes,” she said, snatching it.

“Yes, I’m a madman?”

“No… Well… yes, but… yes, I’ll move into your comeback home after college graduation.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

“To clarify… Was it the letter?”

“It was the... Max. You’re perfect, Dude. I just…” she shrugged and rested her head on him.