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bad268 · 9 months

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4+1 (Arthur Leclerc X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Yeah on Wattpad (look at me actually checking my wattpad messages woah)

Warnings: none.

Pronouns: You/Your/They/Them

W.C. 2113

Summary: The 4 times the reader surprised Arthur and the 1 time Arthur surprised the reader (plus a bonus scene).

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~(^Pinterest but I'm pretty sure Carla posted it too)

1) Austria 2021

The weekend was not off to a good start, and that’s what caused you to drop everything to go to Austria. Qualifying did not go the best for Arthur, but where he qualified left him with a great opportunity for points, starting in fourth place.

You should have listened to your gut when it said something was going to happen this weekend. Instead, you were at work when Lorenzo called you, saying that Arthur had been gone off the track and had to retire early, and he was beating himself up over it.

You told your supervisor that you needed to head out and that you would do work remotely for the remainder of the weekend and probably the next week. They let you go without a hitch, so you were on the next flight out.

When you landed, Race 2 was just about to start. Lorenzo came and picked you up, taking you to the track and into the Prema garage. Arthur was starting down in 27th place. He was already in the car doing the formation lap, so after greeting most of the team, you asked if you could wish him luck over the radio. Thankfully enough, Rene was there and let you use his headset, but told you to make it quick.

“Bonjour mon amour (Hello my love),” You said as soon as you had the headset on. “Bonne chance, je t’aime (Good luck, I love you).”

“Wait, what are you doing here, mon beau (my beauty)? I thought you had work,” he responded immediately as he pulled around one of the last corners.

“Came to surprise you, but I need you to focus on the race now,” You replied with a small, shy smile as the team was listening in on the conversation. “I want you to do what you do best. You’ve got this.”

2) Silverstone 2022

At the beginning of the week, you were not sure if you would be able to make it to Silverstone in time for the feature race. Nothing seemed to line up, so you had told Arthur you would not be able to make it.

However, it seemed like the world was working for you when everything you had to do worked itself out by Thursday night. The weekend shifts that you could not find coverage for were canceled due to overstaffing, your assignments’ due dates were pushed back another weekend, and flights just went on sale. It just seemed like everything was working for you.

Immediately, you got on the first flight out Friday morning to London. Just before taking off, you texted Lorenzo, knowing that Arthur was most likely in his practice or qualifying session. You sent Lorenzo your flight info quickly before shutting off your phone for takeoff.

Landing in London, it did not take you long to meet up with Lorenzo since you only packed a carry-on. You were able to get right off the plane and meet up with Lorenzo in arrivals. He took you back to the rental car and you stopped off to get food before arriving in the F1 paddock where Arthur was hanging out with Charles in between races

You saw him standing against the doorway of Charles’s room with his race suit tied around his waist. You walked up behind him, immediately wrapping your arms around his waist as you hid your face in his shoulders. Arthur stopped talking abruptly, confused at who was hugging him until he turned around and saw your familiar hair color against his chest.

“You said you had work, liar,” Arthur gasped as he lifted you and held you against his body.

“What happened to ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’ or ‘I missed you’?” You laughed once he finally set you down. You leaned in to place a small kiss on his lips before whispering, “I couldn’t miss this. I always try my best to support you.”

3) Australia 2023

You recently got a new job that would allow you to travel with Arthur, but he didn’t know about it yet. It was only finalized it on the Tuesday before the race. You were hired by Ferrari to be their social media coordinator for their academy drivers specifically, and it was a ticket to follow him around for the season.

You had flown with him to Australia for the race, but you told him in advance that you would need to be doing work during the weekend. You told Arthur that morning that you had an early morning meeting which was not a lie, but he did not know it was at the track. By the time Arthur arrived at the track for prerace, you had already gotten acquainted with everyone and were in a grove.

You two didn’t actually run into each other for a while because you were following Fred around, listening to everything he wanted from you before actually getting on with your job. About halfway through the day, Arthur wanted to call you, but he was pulled into a meeting before he could actually dial your number.

Upon arriving in the Ferrari garage, Arthur sat next to Ollie off to the side. They were told it was a basic meeting to go over a new social media plan. The last thing Arthur expected was to see you walk in beside Fred.

His eyes grew wide as his jaw dropped, causing Ollie to chuckle beside him. “Don’t you have a significant other?” Ollie whispered to Arthur. The man in question just ignored his friend.

You looked around the room, almost immediately making eye contact with Arthur. A wide smile spread across your lips as you waved shyly at him.

“Everybody this is Y/n,” Fred introduced you, “They will be working with the academy drivers for their social media.”

Needless to say, when Arthur got his maiden F2 podium, the fans could definitely tell who was your favorite driver.

4) Monaco 2023

It was his home race in his own backyard. How could you not attend? Not only did you love the atmosphere of the Monaco Grand Prix, but it was his first time racing in his home country. Let alone, down the street from his house!

The F2 race had started a few minutes ago, and you were on your way back to the F2 paddock. You had run a little long with Dino’s post-race pictures, so you weren’t there for the start of Arthur’s race. You felt horrible.

You felt your heart sink when you heard the clashing of metal and the gasping of spectators. You glanced up at the big screen, and the one car you did not want to see was shown losing control and crashing into the barriers. It was the Dams number 12, Arthur.

You and Arthur would jokingly poke fun at the Monaco Curse, as Charles referred to it, but you never thought it would affect Arthur. It’s times like this when you really wish you never made those jokes in the first place. You unintentionally manifested this.

By the time Arthur got back to the garage, you had an icepack at the ready. Despite him already having stopped by the medic tent, you knew that an icepack wouldn’t hurt. Especially with how hard the impact was, his head was bound to hurt.

You stood in the back of the garage, updating the FDA social media as you waited for him. When he did, he immediately put his helmet to the side, giving you a sad smile as he approached you. You looked back at him, offering an encouraging smile in return as you opened your arms for him. Arthur did not need to be told twice as he collapsed in your arms as soon as the space was available. You ran one hand up and down his back as you kissed his temple held that was already forming a bruise before holding the icepack to it gently.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” you whispered as you twirled some of the hairs at the nape of his neck, knowing it calmed him down, “Just know, I am so incredibly proud of you. You did amazing while you were out there, and trust me, next year, you’ll come back stronger.”

+1) Las Vegas 2023

Being from Las Vegas meant that you wanted to attend the grand prix that was taking place in your backyard. Despite not actually racing in it, Arthur was planning on going anyway to support Charles, so you convinced them to bring you along as a tour guide of sorts.

That being said, they all knew you were coming. There was nothing to surprise anyone with. At least, that’s what you thought. Arthur decided it was his turn to surprise you. He did not have all of the specifics settled, but he knew for certain that he wanted to propose to you.

It was Friday afternoon, and despite being on the track until 5 that morning, you still dragged Arthur out of the hotel by 2 to explore. You knew for certain you wanted to take him for slushies and to your favorite place to people-watch: Fashion Show Mall.

“It is way too early to get drunk,” Arthur laughed as he took a drink of the large slushie you two were sharing as you walked hand-in-hand through the streets of Sin City. “And this is comically big.”

“1, that's what she said. 2, it's not that high in alcohol percent. 3, we’re sharing it. And 4, it’s never too early to get drunk when you’re not the one driving,” you chuckled as you pulled him up the rainbow stairs to the top level. There was a grass patch that you loved to sit on while growing up, and it was the perfect spot to overlook the entire city. “This is basically where I grew up. I didn’t have many friends, but I would watch everyone from up here after school. It’s a nice view as long as you don’t look straight down.”

He followed you to the grass and jokingly fell beside you with his head in your lap when you sat down. He smiled up at you, causing you to chuckle, as he held your hand in his.

“Your hand is cold,” He whispered.

“I’ve been holding the slushie since Elvis Presley Boulevard,” you joked, “I wonder why?”

“I can warm it up,” He joked back as he took your hand in both of his as he placed small kisses along your knuckles. You closed your eyes and threw your head back as you laughed at his antics until you felt a foreign object being slid onto your finger. You looked down at Arthur to see him smiling smugly up at you as you noticed the object was a ring, and Arthur had placed it on your left ring finger. “I’ve been trying to find the words, but I couldn’t wait any longer. Mon amour, you are my best friend and you have been by my side for as long as I can remember. You always surprise me, so I thought it was my turn. Will you marry me?”

“You’re crazy, Arthur,” you cried as you hid your face behind your right hand, your left hand still being held tightly by Arthur. His face dropped, thinking you were turning him down, but before he could try to remove the ring, you continued, “You’re crazy for thinking I would say anything but yes!”

Bonus scene: Average screen time

“Your screen time is more than five hours,” Olli Calwell read off as part of the challenge they were doing for the Prema Racing YouTube channel. It was a little game to see who uses social media more.

“I know, I check mine every day. I have a problem,” Paul laughed as he pulled out his phone immediately. Arthur looked off to the side where you were sitting as he chuckled, knowing his screen time was through the roof because of the Facetime calls you do every weekend.

“Mine is 13 hours,” Arthur spoke up. Both Olli and Paul’s eyes grew wide in shock as they snapped over to him, questioning if that was really his average. “Yes, look!” Arthur spins his body around to show the other two his screen time as you also lean forward a bit to see, and he’s right. It was 13 hours on average, causing you to laugh to yourself.

“Are you okay?” Olli asked and that’s what broke your cover. The fans heard you laughing in the background of the video and immediately spammed the comments asking about you. That’s when you decided to go public with Arthur.

~~~~~

#arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc #arthur x reader #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc fluff #formula 3 x reader #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 imagine #formula 3 imagine #f2 x reader #f2 imagine #f2 #f3 x reader #f3 imagine #f3 #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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frogychu · 2 years

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Antirrhinum

ellie x gn!reader

ch. 1 of 4

other parts: 2 / 3 / 4

word count: 2k

Hanahaki (花吐き病) : disease affecting the lungs, proven to be caused by keeping one's true feelings hidden for too long

Where you and Ellie have been friends for years until she finally slips up, coughing up petals in front of you.

a/n : errmm hiii first time posting my fics on tumblr so of course it will be cross posted on AO3 here!

You’re making your way to the stables but just barely, you’re moping, practically limping. You’re late to an evening patrol, and you knew you'd never hear the end of this one. When you open the gates, the stablekeeper looks at you with pity as he's taking your attendance.

"I'm afraid she's beaten you to it." He tells you.

You give him an understanding nod and keep slowly making your way into the stables. The closer you get to the patrol board, the better you see the giant smile on her smug face.

Ellie Williams, the only girl who can make your heart sing and your blood boil. Even if the two of you are constantly at each other's throats, you have to admit that you've recently grown to have a little crush on her. You're not sure if this makes your constant patrolling with her better or so, so much worse.

Even if the two of you are friends, you've never really been emotional with one another; exchanging insults and constantly battling with each other was all you knew. You both kept to yourselves regardless.

Sometimes, you wish things were different. You crave to know her more, to let her show you all of her inner works, anything more than you have already. But you keep it to yourself for now.

She beams at you, "Looks like I'll be driving the bus today!"

"It's a horse." You state plainly.

"Shut up, I'm hilarious and you know it. Plus I won, so you're not allowed to make fun of me."

You don't care to answer and instead just roll your eyes. She clearly takes offence to it as she gasps dramatically.

Regardless of your bickering, you had a job to do, so you shamefully get on the back of Shimmer and hold onto Ellie.

Sometimes, your weird frenemy relationship was a bonus, especially for patrol. They would be idiots not to pair the two of you together since you were both the most efficient at your jobs.

Your partner looks back at you with a smirk as you approach a neighbourhood, "You take that one, I'll take this one." She says as she points to two snow-covered houses across from each other. Easy enough and by the sounds of it, there are only a few infected in each house.

"Deal." You reply.

You've both come to a point of mutual understanding that you can both handle yourselves well, but only use your guns in case of emergencies. So, as soon as you both hop off of Shimmer, you're bolting to your assigned houses.

You climb in through a window, fearing that the front door might make too much noise.

The house only has one floor and it only has 3 runners.

A breeze.

You take down the first one with your knife behind a couch, the second in the kitchen, and the last one in the entrance.

Before you knew it you were out the front door in record time, ready to rub it in Ellie’s face. That is if she hadn't beaten you to it already.

She’s outside petting and talking to her horse. She only turns to look at you for a split second, "Took you long enough!"

You half-heartedly accept your defeat, "Yeah, yeah, you're the greatest blah blah."

She laughs, "Oh, look at that! You're learning."

Her laugh sounds like heaven's bells ringing in your ears, paired with a perfect dimpled smile, she's been getting to you a lot more lately.

You push it deep down as you climb onto the horse again and set on course. The rest of the patrol is uneventful, no infected, and nothing new to report. There was just occasional small talk and comfortable silence as Shimmer carried you throughout the neighbourhood.

Ellie takes the lead and signs you both in at the lookout once you get there; a large house on the outskirts of the residential area. You take the liberty of looking around the house for supplies and to sneak away into the attic which is, in your opinion, one of the best patrol views.

As you grab the string to pull down the ladder, Ellie hears you as it comes down.

"Hey! Who said you could run off!"

The cold attic breeze hits you harshly as you start climbing, “Hurry up and come with me then!”

“Hold your horses I'm coming!” She yells back at you.

When you reach the top, you shake the snow off of your pants and quickly walk over to the large opening of the sunken roof. It's beautiful. The snow of the onlooking houses glittering perfectly in the light of the sunset, the trees rustling in the cool wind, the bright orange light in the swirling clouds.

Ellie had already quickly caught up behind you and her mouth is agape as she looks at the scenery in front of her, “Why have you never shown me this? I thought it was just some random storage thing.”

You turn to look at her, trying not to get distracted by how perfect she looks in this lighting. “Because you hate my guts, remember?”

She chuckles lightly at your comment, “Right, yeah.”

You both sit in tantalizing silence, unsure of what to say. She didn't try to prove you wrong just now, you don't know how to take it.

Did you go too far? She looks almost… upset?

Fuck.

She finally breaks the silence as she twiddles with her hands, "We should uhm, head back."

You nod your head, "Right! Yeah."

Neither of you even bother to put the attic ladder away and just head straight to Shimmer. The ride back was quiet, only the sounds of Ellie trying to clear her throat fill the silence.

"Did you, uh, want water or something?" You ask in an attempt to make the situation less awkward.

"I'll be fine." She says sternly, keeping her head straight and eyes on the road.

It's quiet again until you get back home. She gives you the softest ‘bye’ as she leaves. You barely hear it as you wave at her and part ways. You try not to think of today any longer and go straight to sleep before the sun even has a chance to set completely.

You jolt awake in a pool of your sweat, hand on your chest as you try to catch your breath.

"Just a bad dream." You comfort yourself, before plopping back onto your pillow.

The bright red lights of the clock were too difficult to ignore, reading 4:17 AM

Too early.

You knew you couldn't fall back asleep, in case your bad dream came back so you decided to get up and get out of bed. Though, not before taking your blanket and wrapping yourself in it, so you don't have to deal with the cold midwinter air. As you walk to the living room, you stop to look out the windows.

Everything is so still and serene at this hour. The moon is big, and the light coming from it is comforting. As you sit there, basking in the serenity, another light comes on.

It's Ellie's room, or, as you like to call it when you're irritating her, her shack.

Usually, when her light comes on, it's your cue to start getting ready, to beat her to the stables if you have a morning shift. But this time was different, she's never usually up this early or coughing this much. You're starting to get worried, but quickly brush it off.

Would it be weird to knock on her door? Make sure she's ok?

Probably.

You shake the thought away and head down the stairs, with a picture of what you just saw in the back of your mind. It had only been 10 minutes since you woke up, and even though it felt much longer than that, you decided it was too early for breakfast.

So you watch a movie. Just a random action movie; Curtis And Viper.

Ellie wouldn't shut up about this movie, claiming it was way better than whatever's your favourite movie.

You didn't want to let her win, but it couldn't hurt to watch something different. Besides, you couldn't help but admit that it made you feel a little closer to her; getting into something you knew she liked.

She can never know about this, you thought, as you turned up the volume and settled in.

The whole movie lets you kill enough time to start your day at a more reasonable hour. Even if the ending was getting to you enough to want to see the second movie, you power through and went to get dressed.

As you pick out clothes for the day, you couldn't help but peek out your window again, looking into your neighbour's small house.

This time, she's sitting on the side of her bed with-

Joel?

It looks like they're talking about something important, he's comforting her. He wipes away her tears and pulls her into a warm embrace.

You shouldn't be watching this.

Frantically, you go back to getting ready, skipping every other step of your morning routine and speeding out the door.

The stablekeeper greets you as you brush past him to go look at the patrol board.

Of course, you and Ellie are paired to do a route in the trails. Usually, you would be celebrating the fact that you got here first but you can't help but pace as you wait for her to arrive. You can't stop thinking about your unintentional snooping. Should you bring something up? Would she be upset if you saw her? What if by some miracle she found out you watched Curtis and Viper?

You try to take Shimmer out of her stable to try to take your mind off of things but before you can go see her, Jesse stops you.

"You won't be needing her today, we'll get someone else to do the route for you."

You look at him, puzzled. "Oh? Why?"

"It's Ellie, she's uh," he pauses and looks away. "She's sick. Joel alerted us just a while ago."

Now you're getting worried, and can't help but remember what you saw earlier this morning.

"Is she ok?" You ask quietly, so as to not alert anyone else surrounding the two of you.

He slowly starts walking away from you, "She's fine, just, take the day off."

You have to go see her, even if it's weird. You've known her for years and she's never really missed out on patrol, even with her worst cold she insisted on going. And so, reluctantly, you turn around and start making your way to her house.

What started as a walk quickly became a run. As you’re speeding through the streets, you're bumping into everyone and everything trying to get to her.

Maria shouts at you to slow down, but you can't help but keep running. Hopefully she won't nag you too much about it later. You care about Ellie, even if you don't tell her. The desire to take care of your relationship is bigger than anything else right now. You're determined to get closer to her, to know her better; you've always wanted to.

Hopefully, she feels the same.

Before you know it, you're winding down in Joel's backyard, staring at the garage. Ellie's curtains are thankfully drawn, so she couldn't see your embarrassing attempts to catch your breath.

As the adrenaline left your body, the nerves settled in. Getting here was the easy part, the question is what were you even going to say to her. All of a sudden, you're overthinking anything and everything.

Does she even want to see you?

Had you crossed a line yesterday?

You're sure she doesn't hate you, did she take it the wrong way?

Better yet; was it ok to check in on one another?

You can't say you've ever really done it until now. Even worse than that, it would be your first time seeing her outside of work. You're ashamed to say that you've never even been to her house before, even if she's your neighbour.

And that's when it hits you; it doesn't have to be weird if you're just a concerned neighbour or coworker.

It's not awkward if you don't make it awkward.

With your advice to keep yourself calm, you approach the garage’s front door with newfound determination and knock.

ty for reading !! ill be making a tag list for all the next chapters so let me know if you'd like to be added<3

#ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #tlou x reader #ellie x fem reader #tlou2 x reader #ellie tlou x reader

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aurae-rori · 4 months

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hi friend, i am literally so glad i've found another dr. ratio enjoyer! you're literally such a great writer and I love your character analyses.

anyways, my curiosity is peaked, how is children of the city dr. ratio core?

First of all, thank you so much - haha, I'm glad that you enjoy my analyses and writings. I'm so sorry that it took me this long to get back to you - I had a few things to take care of, but I'm going to do a full analysis in your honour!

Analysis under the cut, because it gets really long. :)

"Sleep for a total of 800 hours per day And then drink a liter of milk Warm-up before you go play Only eat, or write Or pull the trigger with your right hand Only thing that's left Is to work on following commands"

I'm totally not projecting my gifted child trauma here, nuh uh... Anyway, my personal HC for Ratio is that his child might have felt monotonous being in classes that he was already too "intelligent" for. Learning things at a quicker pace than other children, absorbing knowledge up like a sponge - sure, the praise is nice, but after awhile, especially when you get to higher levels, intelligence isn't enough to carry you. You have to put diligence, effort, blood sweat and tears into what you're studying for, especially if you want to make a change, like how Dr. Ratio wanted to. It. must have gotten lonely, getting up only to do more researcher, eating only to go back to work. Following a schedule is wonderful, and he would have enjoyed the routine, but after being isolated from other people along with that, it might have made him feel subhuman or less than human for only being there for the studying of more knowledge. Eat, study, work, repeat. This is more of a personal HC rather than something canon, though. :)

"By the time you realize You'll be restrained to a desk And with your dreams on the floor, you comply Eyes chained to the test In 30 minutes, find a groom or bride Bonus if brunette In 90 hours, spill their insides Paint your room picturesque"

I feel like the prospect of romance is pushed onto children at a very young age - and that can be applied to Dr. Ratio. Who knows what romantic beliefs that he grew with? However, I believe this is less of him observing himself, but more of him seeing what the education system does to others, and how society molds others into the person that they "should" be, rather than what they want to be. Also, it could be a reference to academic trauma and placing all your self worth in your grades.

"Now it's time for another vendetta Going through the shelves Picking out my pre-written persona (ha-ah-ah) Children of the city sees only the neon stars Reflected upon the murky gutter sky Don't ask me why I desperately wish to be included in the city's night"

This is how I see Dr. Ratio holding a grudge against the Aeons and other figures of authority. We are all expected to be "good" and "well-behaved", and yet, we all look to the "city's night" - the approval of those who are in a higher position of us. We want to gain the approval and the praise of our parents, of our teachers - it's natural, after. We want to be included in the "city's night" - in Dr. Ratio's case, the gaze of Nous. He wants to be acknowledged by Nous and let into the Genius Society because his beliefs that were instilled into him as a child dictate that since he is hailed as a genius, he should be seen as one by the Aeons, right? However, I'd like to point out the usage of the words "neon stars" - stars are not neon. This implies that the stars are fake - I can also see this as a pointer to the idea of there system itself being fake, or societal "norms" being fake, as we are all unique.

"In four hundred thousand meters, turn right

Pick up a knife and stab a familiar warm body Learned to fight before I knew love or bitterness of coffee Snippy scissors cut down the strings I set myself free Only to figure out everything I chose was by proxy"

Dr. Ratio following orders until he doesn't. Fitting in until he gives up on it. Setting himself free from the chains of what is expected from him of other people, but not by the Aeons - no, that's something that still stays with him. However, I like to interpret the idea of a "familiar warm body" being his own childhood - killing the child that you used to be in favour of facing the future. Coffee is also something commonly regarded as students or workers using it to keep awake during long periods of work and study - it talks about how he has known to fight for himself, or fight for what he wants, before he was told to suck it up and just work for the sake of others, for the sake of the authority. However, this might feel scripted to him as well, with the mention of a "proxy" - it was a decision someone else made for him, maybe? Who knows? Maybe his selflessness was originally chosen by someone else, and drilled into him?

"As we suckled upon the nine millimeter pacifier Swallowing the fact that other than to expand We had no purpose As my ever-burning will to stay afloat backfires I now know I must be comfortable being Who I considered worthless"

This is definitely expanding on the idea of being raised to just be used by the authorities. Also, this can also be a representation of the way that he calls himself "mundane" - he was called a genius and raised as one, and now that Nous has not seen him, he must be "mundane" and he must come to terms that he is exactly what he wasn't called growing up. None of their words of praise have any meaning any more, because in the all seeing gaze of an Aeon, he is nothing.

"Follow the city's ribbon To a heart nobody seems to listen It takes my heart being broken and broken again (broken and broken again) To know that I am the reason why (the reason why) The sufferings never end"

As Dr. Ratio uncovers the truth of his childhood and the truth of why he was raised this way, the empathy that he has suppressed comes back up. And this is it - because he feels for others, because he is so incredibly human, that is the reason why his suffering does not end. He cannot detach himself like other people, like other geniuses, and treat life with little to no care. He cannot, because he loves, and that is his fatal flaw. He listens to his heart, as well as his mind, and that does not make him a genius in the eyes of an Aeon.

"Do not go home until you finish reading the value of E. 2.71 8281 8284 5904 5235 3602 8747 1352 6624 9775 7247 0936 9995 9574 9669 6762"

"E" is a mathematical constant, and therefore is logical. It's called the base of a natural logarithm, and while my knowledge in that area is limited, the fact that it is called a "constant" means that it cannot change, just like all numbers cannot. It might be a representation of the idea of Dr. Ratio trying again to fit in with others, only to fail once more, even though he knows all the rules. He was simply born in a different way, doomed from the start. It wasn't his fault.

He was just human.

You can also see this as Dr. Ratio observing the world as he grows up in an "apathetic" and "detached" way - as he pushes down his own emotions in favour of staring at his own success to help others, knowing that his empathy will not get him anywhere in terms of a cruel world. However, he cannot help it.

Ultimately, "Children of the City" is about how we are raised in a society that forces the idea of work on us ever since we are young. We do not get to cherish our childhoods nor our youth, and are immediately turned to the prospect of how we can provide value to society. We are raised in a never ending cycle like machines, to be puppets to corporations, to be slaves by the desire of the majority, to never have free will of our own.

Summoning @ironunderstands @pepper-demon @misty-lilies @sleepyburito :)

#aurae answers #hsr #drratio #dr ratio #veritas ratio #aurae rambles #dr ratio analysis #character analysis #media analysis #lyric analysis #song analysis #children of the city #mili

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wanderingoff · 2 months

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Challengers Fic Recs!

I've completely fallen down the Challengers fic rabbit hole since I saw the movie a second time in June, and I'm surprised I haven't seen any Challengers rec lists floating around! I've read what feels like half the tag at this point, so I decided, hey, I guess that one's on me. I've been really impressed by the overall quality of what I've been reading, so these really feel like the creme de la creme and I hope even if you haven't read Challengers fic before, you give some of them a shot! (I will say, I'm not sure this is the best fandom to read without having seen the film, but the movie is SO good, just watch it and then come back) (Also, I don't read Reader inset fic which seems really popular in the fandom, so no shade to any of those authors, just not my bag!)

I wrote these little summaries cuz this post was so long! Without further ado, in order of length so I didn't have to obsess over that too:

let it once be me by wastelandbaby - 4444 words, M, Post-canon, Throuple, Getting together. Summary: An immediate post-match threesome can't fix what's wrong with them. Tashi and Patrick are texting and Art's crippling insecurity won't let him see what's directly in front of his face. Art POV. Rec: This fic is so short and un-sweet; I want to say it speedruns the beats that make so many throuple getting together fics work except it doesn't feel rushed in the slightest, and the ending is completely unique and honestly took my breath away.

open heart / open container by comosum - 5106 words, M, Post-Canon, Getting together Summary: The throuple is getting together, but Art and Patrick have to have a conversation first. Art POV. Rec: A large portion of this is one conversation and the dialogue fucking slaps. It does an unusually good job of having Art and Patrick directly/explicitly address each other's queerness before initiating sex, managing to thread the needle of "he would not fucking say that" and "it's actually not totally unrealisitic for these guys to be moderately self-aware at least of themselves."

give it a hand, offer it a soul by thcscus - 6493 words, T, Post-Canon, Established Throuple Patrick is playing his best for Art and Tashi. Patrick gets injured. Patrick doesn't know if it's the tennis that's over, or everything. Mixed POV. Rec: In the Exquisite Agony fandom, this is possibly the most Exquisitely Agonizing fic I've read. It's horrific. It's shocking how short it is compared to the rest of this list, but within the first 400 words my heart was in my fucking throat and it didn't come down for the remainder.

a romantic fool by spqr - 10300 words, E, Canon-compliant, Established Throuple. Lily is Patrick's. Art loves her for it. Art POV. Rec: Hands down, the fic that inspired this list and one of my gateway drugs into Challengers fic. I want everyone to read it.

this monstrous fire by kithmet - 10672 words, E, Post-Canon Throuple Getting together. An immediate post-match threesome can fix what's wrong with them. Along with some eavesdropping. Art POV. Bonus: kithmet made an incredible Challengers playlist not specifically for this fic, open relationship Rec: This is the closest thing to a fix-it on this list (it's very far from a fix-it), and I think convincing me these three could possibly figure their shit out in the short timeline of this fic is incredibly impressive character work.

neverland by ameliepoulain - 14079 words, E, Post-Canon, Art/Patrick, Getting together. Patrick quits tennis and moves on. Art quits tennis and does not. Patrick POV. (The second part of the series, second star to the right, is Art POV, pre-throuple, and essential.)(Bonus! Comes with playlist!*) Rec: Of all the fic on this list, I think this one takes the biggest swing on its set-up and for me that completely pays off. The two parts of the series also do an incredible job of demonstrating how opaque these people are to each other and do SUCH a good job of differentiating voices/experiences).

wishbone by a__peach__tree - 18375 words, E, Post-Canon, Throuple, Getting together. An immediate post-match threesome can't fix what's wrong with them. Patrick buys a ticket to the US Open, and waits, and tries to get his life together. Patrick POV. Comes with playlist*! Rec: This author does the most convincing Patrick-trying-his-hardest I've read; the action becomes so interior over the course of the fic and the tension ramps up so high I caught myself talking to the characters out loud, literally begging them to do the right thing.

american doubles by sticky valentine - 19166 words, E, Post-Canon, Throuple, Getting Together. An immediate post-match threesome won't fix what's wrong with them. Art invites Patrick to follow them to Cincinatti. Tashi thinks she knows what's going on. Tashi POV. Rec: I'm SO glad I found this fic before sending this post to press because we need Tashi POV and I think this does a great job of drawing back the curtain on her machinations and leaning into how human, fallible, and confused she is.

make it all look painless by sundaymournin - 20277 words, M, During-canon slight AU Or, this author outright rejects that these three had the self-control to actually stay away from one another. Art POV. Rec: Another true Exquisite Agony fic; it interlaces with canon beautifully and addresses Art's obvious anxiety more directly than anything else on this list, along with his self-loathing. This is the fic that takes the "none of them can stop hurting each other or themselves" to it's logical extreme without like, actual extreme behavior that would break character or make canon events impossible.

Bonus AU: it's getting better by spqr - 9025 words, T, No injury AU Let Art and Patrick be shlubs! Reckon with painful truth of a life in service to a single, unloving dream! Let Tashi find her way back to them anyway! Tashi POV. Rec: For me, the appeal of Challengers is how well crafted the movie is, so I've shied away from the handful of AUs. But a) ALL of spqr's Challengers fics are shockingly good, and b) out of all the fic on this list, this is the one I can most easily hear the dialogue in the actual voices of these characters & their actors, which is a high compliment from someone who does not have a very concrete imagination.

*I made these Spotify playlists based off text lists of songs in the author's notes of these fics.

#Challengers #challengers (2024)#fic rec #art donaldson #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #(i actually have not yet read anything that directly addresses why tashi took art's name and would looove to)#peach-tree-writing #kithmet #i don't think anyone else on here had their url in the authors note or w/e #but would love to be corrected!#lol so glad to be posting i've been being weird about this idea for weeks

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last-starry-sky · 11 months

Text

Girl's Night Out - ch. 1

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pairing: Ghost x shy!goth!f!reader

rating: M

summary: A full rewrite of this idea I posted last week. Read that if you want to be spoiled. Shy reader is pulled out for a girl's night by her two friends. They run into Gaz, Soap, and Ghost at the same bar. The night develops from there.

word count: 9.6k

warning: mdni, not beta-read, reader is painfully shy, like socially anxious levels of shy (i'm not projecting at allll), drinking, smoking mention, touching and kissing but mostly sfw (the good shit will be in the next chapter i promise. it's already written. 😈). This is also about 90% exposition (i'm sorry).

Also, I have committed the ultimate, unforgivable sin in this: Ghost is maskless. So if that ruins it for you, sit this one out.

snippet:

“If you’re interested, that guy hasn’t stopped looking at you since he walked in.” You set your drink down with a clunk. You were going to kill both of them. Your friend giggled. She picked up her glass and took a delicate, almost coquettish, sip. “No,” she said setting it down so lightly you almost didn’t hear it. “All of them have been staring over here since they walked in.”

“GOD, this week has been complete shit!” your friend shouted as soon as the two of you were far enough away from work to be out of earshot of your other dispersing coworkers.

She stretched her arms up, a few cracks audible through her heavy coat as she groaned. It was true. It had been a hellish week. You hadn’t even had time to have lunch with each other. Most everyday for her was either a “lunch meeting” or just working straight through her usual lunch hour. You had started just giving her your packed lunch and running out for a bite to eat when you could. She was thankful for it. She was a junior partner. Every extra billable hour and little bit reflected back on her, helped her future career.

You weren’t privy to exactly why all the partners were so ungodly busy, you were just a receptionist. Not even a secretary. Your days were busy in a different way: greeting and checking in what felt like the same ten faces, answering the phone with a greeting that was worn into the foundation of your brain at this point, answering emails, moving meetings around. There was also the bonus (if you could really call it that) task of covering for one of the senior partner’s secretaries when they took their lunches. It was nothing you weren’t used to. The only thing you disliked was that one slimy junior partner that seems to always conveniently hang around the front desk while they’re away.

Your friend wound her arm around yours. Her face was still scrunched from her stretch, not yet ready to relax.

“What do you have planned?” she asked.

“Oh, the usual,” you sighed turning your face away, watching the pavement pass by as you walked, “laundry, cleaning-”

“So, nothing?” she interrupted you sarcastically.

A cold wind whipped down the street, mussing both of your hair.

“Yeah. Nothing,” you mumbled. You broke your arm away to push your hair back behind your ear. “Do you still want to stop for groceries?” you asked, desperate to change the subject. You wanted this week to end in it’s usual, boring way for the both of you.

She hummed back in agreement, distracted with rearranging her long, curly hair back into place.

“God, I need a drink,” she said with a huff, giving up on her hair. She stuffed her hands in her pockets, looked back over to you and said exactly what you did not want to hear. “We should go out tonight.”

You spent your whole shopping trip feebly fighting off your friend’s attempt to make plans. She was begging you by the time you pushed your trolley out of the store.

“PLEASE,” she had begged, pulling at your hand while you tried to take out your bags. “Please! Just a few hours! Just you and me and we can go to this cute little bar that’s out of the way! No guys! A girl’s night!”

Your silence had been your answer.

You felt a bit guilty, walking away, leaving her there to beg to no one in the middle of the parking lot. The farther you walked, face into the cold wind, the worst you felt. It was the wind making you cry, you lied to yourself. The desire to turn back and just give in to your best friend, to make things right despite your own feelings grew stronger with every block. You tightened your grip on your bags. No, you told yourself. You don’t want to go out, and you don’t have to if you don’t want to.

You repeated it to yourself until your little white apartment building filled your hazy vision. You set down your bags on the stoop and wiped your eyes as you shuffled through your keys. Your eye wandered forward, looking through the two tall bushes that flanked the fenced-off area in front of the bay windows. The sun was pooling bright and yellow on the hardwood inside. It took you a second to connect that your were looking into your own apartment, mess cluttered across the floor on full display to the street. You had forgotten to close your curtains again. You let out an exhausted sigh, pushed open the door, and gathered your bags. If there was anything to be thankful for, it was that there were only seven other tenants and none of them seemed the voyeuristic type. Or at least you hoped so.

Safe inside, you put away your food. You puttered around, looking over the mess you had let accumulate all week (at left on display) as you raced to and from work, only having enough energy at the end of the day to heat up some food, wash yourself, and pass out into your unmade bed. You sighed sinking down into your couch. You would definitely have enough to occupy your mind for the next couple days. Your friend had enough other friends, you told yourself, wrapping up in a blanket you had left stuffed over the side of the couch. She would find someone to go out with, blow off that steam she needed to.

Your eyes were about to close, cuddled up in your blanket in the sun-warmed pool of late-afternoon light from your front windows. The street was mostly quiet, just the wind and branches from the bushes and trees against the building. It was pleasant white-noise to fall asleep to. You heard your phone buzz. You almost ignored it. Then it buzzed again. You groaned. Someone was texting you and you had a feeling you knew who it was. You pulled yourself out of your blanket cocoon with a groan and angrily went to find your purse where you had dropped it in the entryway.

It wasn’t who you thought it would be. It was your (only) other friend. She just so happened to be your friend’s cousin. You had known her for about as long as you had your other friend. They looked very similar, most of the time getting mistaken for sisters, but they could not have been more different in personality.

Your friend was a solicitor, through and through. She was quick, witty, and tough with a beautiful face and sensuous body she knew how to use when either softening or enhancing a biting comment. No man stood a chance against her, most women, too. You admired her strength. The way she took no shit, stood up for herself, and got what she wanted from life.

Her cousin, on the other hand, with almost the same face and body, was sweet. She loved to hear other people talk. She had a talent for putting people at ease, for getting them to open up and tell their tales. She would laugh with their funny stories and softly hold their hands through the sad ones. It had to be something in her kind eyes, her genuine words, her warm smile. You wished you had her warmth. How she could give so much, make people feel loved and wanted and safe.

You opened your messages.

You okay?

Heard you got in a fight?

You huffed looking at the pair of messages. You wondered what she had been told. You tapped out your reply.

I’m fine. Not really a fight. Your cousin wanted to go out but I’m just not feeling it.

You watched the line of dots bounce as she replied.

Glad you’re okay. ❤️☺️ Take care of yourself!

You smiled. She still had that ability to make you feel better, even through the phone. You took the time while you were there to tidy up your entryway: organizing your shoes back into a line on the rug next to the door and hanging up your jackets. You were thinking about grabbing your mop to get rid of the stains and dirt that you had tracked in when it had rained for a few days this week when your phone buzzed again.

Did you end up buying that shirt you liked?

You blushed thinking back to last weekend. Both of your friends had managed to pull you out for a day of shopping. You were usually against buying anything for yourself, used to squirreling away your money for when you really needed it. Moving internationally had done that to you. Your nice friend had called it “self care” but your lawyer friend had taken you by the shoulders and very directly told you that you could not keep showing up to the office in clothes from ten years ago. So you three had made a day of it, a nice day at that. You had bought mostly clothes for the office: black skirts and slacks, button up shirts and cardigans.

Toward the end of the day you had given in and finally let yourself go in the store you had wanted to explore the whole afternoon. A little, dark store specializing in gothic fashion. Your friends had not made fun of you, and actually encouraged you! They kept pulling down things for you to try on, much to the annoyance of the two employees, cooing and squealing every time you came out of the dressing room. You had wanted to buy everything, and your friends did too, but you were realistic. You knew you hated going out, and none of these clothes were appropriate for your office job. You had sighed, coming down from your retail high, and sorted out a few shirts and skirts you felt you would actually wear day-to-day.

Your friend’s text was about the hardest choice you’d had make: a black velvet, lace trimmed, cropped tank top that came with a matching, long sleeved, lace over-shirt. The lace on the tank was beautifully ornate and pointed. It made you feel like a cathedral window. The over-shirt was wide necked, hanging just enough off your shoulders to let the lace below peak up. What made you self conscious about it was what your friends had exclaimed when you did a turn around after walking out of the dressing room.

“It shows off your tattoo so well!”

You clamped your hand over your right shoulder now as it had then. It had shaken you then. You felt exposed. Who were you pretending to be? Some girl who goes out to clubs to show off her body? No way. Were you going to display your tattoo just so some stranger could leer at you, dig into your personal life? No. Your tattoo was yours. You didn’t have to tell anyone about it if you didn’t want to.

You had hardened your heart as you paid for your other clothes. You didn’t need that shirt. But once you were home, and your friends were texting you, just like they were now, you had caved. You had thought about it for two days. Despite your busy week, you had ran back to that shop after work on the third night and bought it. You had told your friend at work the day after.

You replied:

I did, actually.

She texted back quickly.

Can I see it on you again???

It was still sitting on the floor of your bedroom, in the bag with the receipt because you were definitely going to return it after the honeymoon phase passed. Phone in hand, you pulled it out again. You dangled it between your hands by the straps, lace fluttering, more nothing than anything. You sighed. It was still as cute as the day you first fell in love with it.

You threw your phone on the bed and stripped off your warm sweater from work. The cloth was cold against your body, and the lace did nothing to hold onto any heat. You swiveled back and forth, looking yourself over in your mirror propped in the corner of your room. With a necklace and the right pair of pants, or a skirt, it would be really cute. You found yourself thinking about what color lipstick you would wear with it.

You grabbed your phone off of your bed and quickly snapped a picture for your friend. She replied back almost immediately.

!!!!!

SO CUTE

Then, your other friend texted you.

GIRL. YOU HAVE TO WEAR THAT OUT WITH US TONIGHT.

You could have strangled the both of them. Of course they had worked together again to get at you. Of course. You texted her back.

You two are going out?

Yep!

You tapped the side of your phone. She seemed in a better mood than when you last saw her. That was good. It was also good that your other friend was going out. Even if you bailed, she would at least have her. You let yourself be bitten by curiosity and texted:

Where?

She texted you the address for a bar. You clicked on the link. As the website loaded you sat down on your bed, running your hands over the lace on your stomach. You swiped through the pictures. It was just as your friend had described it: small, dark, intimate, out of the way. Not a place you felt you needed to worry about being interrupted by jackasses trying to hit on you or your friends. Another text pulled you back to reality.

It’s cute.

soooooo

you wanna meet up with us later? 👀 Just for a drink or two? Just us girls?

There it was. A question you didn’t want to answer. It was selfish, but you really wanted to ignore your friends, curl up in bed, and let the night pass alone. You fell back onto your bed and stared up at the ceiling. You tapped at the sides of your phone. You also really didn’t want to ghost your friends. They had been gone out of their way to do things with you, to include you though the worst and most stressful years of your life. You ground your heel against the hardwood floor. A little smile crept over your cheek.

You could do it. You could do this for them.

What time?

Your friend’s reply came not a second later.

See you then!!!!

You thought the hardest part of this night was going to be getting ready. You only had an hour to decide what to put on. The problem of how to combine the various pieces of your all black wardrobe into something cute enough for a girl’s night out but not too cute to attract unwanted attention, that was a struggle. Your floor was filled with tights, leggings, and skirts as you tried on every piece of clothing you had with the shirt you had set your heart on. Finally, with time running out, you put on your high waisted leggings and, after a quick once over in the mirror, you decided it was this or nothing. You actually liked how the waistband almost met the bottom of the crop top, giving your outfit the illusion of being one piece.

You had gone back and forth in your head over what color lipstick you wanted to wear. You could have softened the whole look with a dark red or even purple. There was something rebellious in you though, maybe it was the fact that you still didn’t want to be doing this, that made you pick out the matte black. If they wanted you to come out they would get the full you. The rest of your makeup was minimal: lashes, liner, brows. You wanted your lips to be the star. Not that anyone would care besides your two friends.

You quickly pulled together the rest of your outfit as you walked out the door: a lace choker around the middle of your neck, short black boots, and your black motorcycle jacket that you had stopped wearing to work after too many pointed stares.

The hardest part also wasn’t walking alone the five or so blocks to the bar. The dark didn’t scare you, even in the city. It was Friday night and the weekend was just staring: everyone was heading out, rushing by just as you were. No one paid you much attention, even dressed as you were. Head down, you blended into the bustling crowd and quickly made good time to the bar.

No, the hardest part so far was just walking in the door. It was an old door, like one that the traditional pubs from the old section of the city had. There was only one, antique looking, lantern style, light illuminating the brass plaque with the bar’s name on the outside. The one large window was tinted so dark you couldn’t even peek in to see if your friends were inside. They had texted you about five minutes ago, saying they had arrived and had a table. It still scared you that they might not be inside, that you would just have to trust them.

You gathered your courage and pushed the door open. It was truly a tiny place. The horse shoe shaped bar took up almost a third of the space. There were four little round tables pushed toward the walls that filled the rest of the pub. It was too dark for you to see very clearly into every corner. The brightest light hung like a pendant above the middle of the bar, which was empty save for the bartender. Your heart clenched in a panic. You were alone. You looked desperately around for your friends.

The bartender: a young, dark haired guy with a curled mustache who was rather cute, greeted you. He called you over, casually leaned against the bar and asked what you wanted to drink. Before you could say a word your friend, like an angel from heaven, came snaking around the bar toward you. She was just as dolled up as you: a flowing, long sleeved, red shirt shifted off her shoulders, tight, dark jeans, and bright red heels.

“You came!” she said pulling you into a tight hug, leaving you breathless. Your lungs filled with hairspray and perfume. You heard the bartender chuckle as she pulled away, leaving her arm wrapped around your shoulders. Your friend turned to him and smiled flirtatiously, her red lipstick accentuating her wide smile. You saw her gold earrings sparkle out from her dark hair. “See? I told you she would come!”

You blushed as the bartender now asked your friend what he should get started for you. You we about half sure that he assumed you were her girlfriend. “This round’s on me,” your friend said squeezing your arm, letting you order for yourself.

“Vodka Cranberry, please,” you told the bartender, avoiding his eyes by unzipping your jacket.

He quickly made your drink and, as soon as it was in your hand, you were whisked away by your friend. A dim, hazy light hung above your table. It was enough to clearly see the drinks on the table and your friends faces, but not much else. No wonder you hadn’t seen them when you walked in.

Your other friend’s soft smile greeted you when you got to your little round table. She was more casual that the two of you, wearing a tight sage-green dress with a square neckline. Her sleek, black hair fell in neat waves to her shoulders: not as short as yours but shorter than her cousin’s. A small, silver necklace hung down over her clavicle, setting off the tone of her skin brilliantly.

“You wore your new shirt!” she said sweetly as you shuffled your jacket off your shoulders. You threw it over the back of the chair. “You dressed it up so well!”

“Thanks,” you said hopping up into your chair and stirring your drink, trying not to sound too proud. You did feel cute though.

“So,” your friend said slumping over the table, her red sleeve flowing over the bottom of her martini glass, “what’s new with you guys?”

Your other friend took a sip of her wine. “Nothing,” she said with a sigh.

“Nobody cute at work?” your friend goaded, resting her face on her fist.

She shook her head. “Not even anyone interesting. Same doctors and researchers as always.”

Your friend picked up her glass. “A toast to the single life then,” she said sarcastically.

Both you and your friend picked up your glasses in unison and, with a laugh, clinked them against hers. In the middle of your drink, your friend rolled her eyes and set her glass down without taking a sip.

“Guys! I don’t WANT to be single!" She reconsidered her choice, eyeing the last bit of alcohol in her glass, and picked it up again.

“Maybe if you weren’t so busy . . .” your friend suggested, swirling her dark wine.

“Ugh, if only,” she replied setting down her glass after a long drink, olives rolling at the bottom. She looked at you with a wince of sympathy and said, “We’re in for a long couple weeks.”

“Really?” you asked, hoping for her to elaborate, but your voice was drowned out by the door opening and another group walking in.

It was a group of guys, if you could guess by their voices as they passed by to sit on the far end of the bar. You didn’t bother to look back. They made small talk with the bartender as they ordered. The bar equalized back to it’s quiet state, indie-rock barely audible through the speakers. You couldn’t help but catch your friend’s wandering eye as you picked up your glass for a drink. She was looking at them, fingers tapping across her lips.

You rolled your eyes. She had promised this was a night out for friends, just for you girls.

Your other friend, sensing the tension, reached out and patted her on the arm. “It’s hard to keep a relationship when your work life is so busy,” she said softly.

“You would know,” she shot back.

Your friend’s hand flinched back, shocked by her words. You hadn’t been involved but you felt like you had been punched. Now you were both staring at her, more than a bit angry. What had gotten into her? Your friend sat back in her chair, a sad look creeping over her face.

“Sorry,” she apologized softly, “I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay,” your friend said finishing her glass of wine. She hopped down off her chair, the heels of her boots clacking against the hardwood. She pointed at the two of you. “I’ll get the next round.”

Your other friend plucked her skewer of olives out of her empty martini and bit one off as she pushed the glass toward her cousin.

“I’ll have another.”

She collected the glass with a hard, neutral face and clacked away, needing to cool off away from the two of you. Maybe a conversation with that cute bartender would help. Your friend next to you, however, didn’t seem phased. She was running her wooden skewer over her lips, a glazed look in her eye. You followed her gaze to the group of guys standing at the corner of the bar. Something she was only able to do because your other friend had left. You snapped your eyes back to the table as soon as you saw them. You stirred your drink and tried to think of something to bring your friend’s mind back to your table.

Your other friend, thankfully, returned with your drinks then.

“You two sure are quiet,” she observed, sliding her cousin her drink.

Your friend bit off her other olive, holding it with her teeth as she pulled it off the stick more than a little seductively. Her eyes were still trained past your friend. You gulped your drink, too afraid to say anything. You stared at her over your glass, pleading she would read your mind.

Eventually she looked at her cousin’s blissed out expression, as her position hadn’t changed since she had left and with a little smile said, “If you’re interested, that guy hasn’t stopped looking at you since he walked in.”

You set your drink down with a clunk. You were going to kill both of them.

Your friend giggled. She picked up her glass and took a delicate, almost coquettish, sip. “No,” she said setting it down so lightly you almost didn’t hear it. “All of them have been staring over here since they walked in.”

Her cousin, with her back to their eyes had the most freedom of expression. Her mouth dropped open in surprise and shock and then formed back into a smile. You could hear her hum with excitement. There was the same wicked glint in both of their eyes.

Oh no, you thought.

“What do you want to do?” she whispered, leaning forward to her cousin.

Her eyes broke away from the man she was staring at across the bar and met her cousin’s, a shameless smile still painted her face.

“I’m going to go over there and ask him if he likes what he sees.”

You felt the pit of your stomach drop. You weren’t even halfway through your first drink and she was already acting like this. Your friend was just as stunned into silence as you were. She was true to her word though. She spun out of her chair and walked around you, more hairspray and perfume wafting off of her, to the group of men lurking in the shadows.

Your other friend grabbed your arm.

“What’s going on? I can’t see!” she whispered excitedly in your ear.

You very slightly turned your head, blush creeping over your face, and tried to make out what was happening. You could see your friend’s bright red shirt as she leaned against the bar. There was nothing you could make out of the guy she was talking to, just that he had a well-muscled arm holding a bottle of beer.

“How many did you say there were?” you asked your friend in a whisper.

“Three,” she answered, “Why?”

“Because I can’t-” You were squinting into the corner trying to make out the other figures when your friend turned quickly around, spraying out her hair in a heavy curtain around her as she bounced back toward the table. She had a small smile on her face and the man’s hand in hers.

You both sat up straight and pretended you hadn’t been spying and gossiping the whole time as she walked him over to your table and around to her chair. You could smell his warmth and cologne as he passed behind you.

“Guys!” she gushed pulling the mohawked man close to her. Her hand pressed into the front of his white shirt as if he was already a friend. “This is John, but you can call him Soap!”

He tipped his beer at the two of you and you both politely greeted him.

“Hope you don’t mind my friends and I joining you ladies. Promise we’ll behave,” he said in a Scottish accent with a sparkle in his blue eyes. As much as it was irritating you now, your friend had a knack for finding interesting guys.

Wait, your brain stopped mid-drink as you tried to hide your nerves. Friends? Plural?

A hand, and then a face, and then a body broke in between you and your other friend. He smelled shower-fresh, minty fresh even. She looked up at the tall, dark, and handsome man in a sky blue t-shirt that had appeared, with eyes blown wide and was instantly smitten.

“Hi,” he said softly. His London accent familiar to your ears. He set his beer on the table between the two of you. “I’m Kyle, Soap’s friend.”

Your friend didn’t say anything, her brain must have short-circuited when she saw the cute little mustache above Kyle’s mouth.

You heard Soap snort into his beer. Everyone turned to look at him.

“Kyle,” he said sarcastically.

Kyle laughed back, toying with his bottle. “Real name’s Kyle, but you can call me Gaz, like my friends do, if you want.”

“Kyle’s a nice name,” your friend said sweetly. He looked over to her and they both smiled, a soft ‘thanks’ trapped between them. You almost missed him throwing his coat on the back of her chair, the smell of leather fanning out as he did so.

That’s two, you thought. Where’s the last one?

You felt a hand land on the top corner of your chair. The vibration it caused sent a shiver down your spine. You clenched your hands in your lap, wishing yourself to disappear. A large presence walked behind you as you heard the arm drag across your leather jacket. You let yourself look at his hand as he set his glass on the table. You blushed, eyes wide. Damn. He had big hands.

“Ghost!” Soap greeted his friend with a little nod. “Nice of you to join us,” he said bring his beer to his lips.

“Bartender took ‘is sweet time,” he said gruffly.

Oh god. He had a deep voice too. It’s normal for a bigger guy to have a deeper voice but goddamn is his an octave deeper than it has any right to be. And he wasn’t local, just like Soap. You would have to ask your friends later where he was from. They at least grew up here.

“Oh?” Soap said with a quirk of his expressive eyebrows.

Ghost took his glass off the table. “Not too happy with this,” he said gesturing to all of you around the table, “Think we ruined his plans.”

Your friend next to Gaz groaned, her hand covering her face as everyone turned to look at her.

“He . . . didn’t charge me for our drinks,” she admitted shyly.

You couldn’t help but join in the laugh over that. The poor guy, your poor friend, you thought. Kyle soothed her, telling her she didn’t have to worry, as she let her hands fall in his. It was almost too sweet to watch.

“Right then, guess the next round is on me then,” Soap said guiltily pointing his bottle toward himself. Several glasses and bottles were immediately pushed his way and he deflated with a sigh. Your friend giggled at that.

As he left, you relaxed back into your chair. You had thought the worst when your friend had pulled those guys over here, but, for once, it turned out okay. They seemed fun. The air around you was filled with soothing scents: their hoppy beer and sharp whiskey mixed with your fruity cocktails and wine, musky cologne and soft leather over floral perfume and hairspray.

“Hope we aren’t interrupting your night,” Gaz said leaning over to talk to your friend.

“Oh no,” she said urgently shaking her head, “it’s no problem. Actually, we had all just been talking about how boring our lives were lately.”

“Boring? Really? What do you all do?” he asked.

“I’m a lawyer,” your friend said proudly.

“Shit, really?” Soap said returning to the table, hands full of drinks. “Smart an’ pretty, eh? Some girls have all the luck.”

She smiled, basking in his compliments. She looked at you across the table, fresh drink pushed in front of her.

“We work together,” she said proudly pointing to you. You buried your face in your glass.

“No shit,” Soap said looking back and forth between you two, “Both lawyers?”

You wished you could die, right there. Your mouth was full of alcohol, but you shook your head. Your friend took pity on you and, with a laugh, said, “No, she’s our receptionist. Keeps me organized and on time. The whole office, really.”

Your eyes silently thanked her for going easy on you. Your heart slowed back to normal. She could have said so much more, so much more that was very personal to you, but she didn’t. You thanked whatever deity was out there that she wasn’t a rambling drunk.

“That’s cool,” Gaz said turning to the woman next to him. “What about you?”

“I’m a speech therapist. I work with the university mostly and the hospitals when they need me,” she said sweetly.

“You’re a doctor then?” he asked.

“No, not yet,” she said with a shake of her head, reaching for her wine, “Maybe in a few years, though.”

“And!” your friend said reaching across the table to grab the woman’s hand, “we’re cousins!”

“Really?” Gaz said as him and Soap looked over their two faces. “Could have passed for-”

“Sisters?” they said together.

Another laugh rang out around the table as you quietly finished your drink. You set it down in front of you, not ready to ask for another. Even the thought of asking for one of them to buy you a drink was twisting a knot in your stomach. You rarely drank, even out with your friends, so you planned on having a water next. The man behind you didn’t miss it though. You saw him point and Soap was quick to swipe it from you. You tried to protest, but your friend had started a conversation with Gaz that grabbed your attention.

“How did all of you meet?”

“Military,” he answered quickly and less warmly than he had before. His eyes met the man’s behind you as he turned to sip his beer.

“Ooooh,” your friend cooed. Soap had just returned with your drink, which you quietly thanked him for, as he took his place back by her side. “Soap, why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Didn’ ye’ see my tattoo?” he said holding out his left arm.

You and your friend across the table got the first and best look. She was babbling to Gaz as your friend pulled him around to get a look for herself. She was cooing again as she smoothed her hands up his arm.

“What is it?” she asked, head cocked to the side.

“It’s the crest for SAS: Special Air Service,” he said softly, her fingers still massaging over his skin.

“You fly?” she asked excitedly.

“Not personally,” he said with a chuckle. “Been in enough helicopters to fill a lifetime, though. Right Gaz?”

Gaz scowled into his beer. “Got that damn right,” he answered wearily, clearly bringing up a bad experience.

“So you all work together?” your other friend said to Gaz, “Like as a-”

“Team? Yeah,” he answered.

“That’s so cool! How long?” she asked.

“A couple of years now, give or take,” he said looking over at Soap, who shrugged in response.

You listened to the conversation ping-pong back and forth across the table. No one seemed to mind you just sitting there listening as you slowly sipped your drink. Gaz and Soap told more stories about their shared experiences, your friends fawning over their every word. You leaned over your glass, checking out of the conversation. You were more interested in the man behind you. Why wasn’t he saying anything? He couldn’t be shy like you, not a military guy, surely not.

“But no, really. How did you guys find this place?” your friend asked Gaz. Soap had his arm fully wrapped around her and she was leaning back into him.

“I’ve been coming here for a while, back before it was sold. When we all got back into the country I thought-”

“It would be a great place to get this guy out for a night.” Soap interrupted, pointing at the man behind you.

“I said the same thing about her!” your friend burst out.

You wanted to sink into the floorboards again.

“We’ve got more than one thing in common, then,” you heard the man behind you comment darkly into his glass.

His voice sent tremors down your spine. It was low and gravelly. Probably just from his drink you tell yourself. No one else noticed what he said.

Your hand flexed on your glass, still mostly full. What did he mean by that? More than one thing in common? Ghost leaned in just a bit to set his glass next to your hands. A slip of the amber liquid still sliding around the bottom. Oh god, you can smell him. He’s got this natural, understated, manly smell. It’s probably just soap and laundry detergent but he made it musky and dark, notes of copper and grease and fire crinkling around the edges. It’s making your head spin. You wished you had been braver before, when they had first came over, and gotten a good look at him.

A loud giggle from your friend in Gaz’s arms pulled you out of your thoughts.

“I don’t believe you . . .” she said through her laughter.

“No, for real, ask Soap!” he said pointing with his beer across the table.

“Wha’s that?” Soap asked pulling his face away from your friend.

“Gaz says you like to dance. Is that true?”

Soap’s face lit up, a manic energy possessing him. “Oh hell yes I do! Same as Gaz,” he answered, “D’ you ladies like to dance too?”

Your mind kicks into overdrive. Dancing? This was not a part of the plan for the night.

“There is this club I've wanted to go back to. . .” your friend said melting into Soap’s chest, eyes pleading.

“I’d go!” Soap said looking down into her eyes. She’s in heaven, in her element, loving it.

“Me too!” your other friend said excitedly, pushing her wine into the middle of the table.

“Sounds like a plan then,” Gaz said with a little duck of his head.

All at once, the four of them turn around to look at you and Ghost.

“What about you, Lt?” Soap asks the man behind you. You’d never heard that abbreviation before. You wonder what it stood for. His initials?

You held your breath.

“Gotta keep an eye on you two,” he said flatly, a lint of exhaustion or boredom in his tone. Soap’s smile was practically blinding.

Your friends take a different approach to convincing you. They each grab at your hands and beg, actually beg, you to come with them.

“Please?” your friend pleads “It’ll be so much fun! We don’t have to go out for long!”

You look at the two of them unsure what to say. You weren’t mad about how things were turning out. It was interesting, if anything. It was annoying that you didn’t get to stay home or have a night alone with your friends, but drinks and dancing with some handsome military men was hardly the end of the world. At least you were slowly convincing yourself of it. They are so lucky that you’ve had just enough alcohol to make you feel light and happy.

“Yeah, okay,” you replied softly.

They both jumped out of their chairs to hug you, squealing that you wouldn’t regret it.

Everything happens very quickly around you after that. Soap and your friend are at the bar closing out their tabs. Gaz is helping your other friend into her jacket, talking about which way they should walk. Going across the bridge would be colder, but safer, he says.

You took one last, long, swig of your drink, finishing half of it. You rubbed the imprint of your black lipstick left on the rim. You touched your bottom lip. You probably should have ran to the bathroom to touch up your makeup at some point, but there’s no time now. As you shifted forward to hop out of your seat, Ghost handed you your jacket. You said a soft “thank you” but he was walking away as soon as you took it from his hands. You don’t even know if he heard you. It shouldn’t have, but it crumpled your heart just a little bit.

Business at the bar cleaned up, you all gathered at the door and headed out. Your friends and their guys, their arms gently around their shoulders and waists, took the lead. The walk itself was refreshing. You watched the laughter and conversations dance in the cool air in front of you, too far back to listen in and not really interested anyway. You blow a puff of air out to watch it trail behind you, reminding you of the smoke you can’t have, that you don’t need. The night air is cutting into your buzz, but doesn’t make you forget the tall man walking behind you, bringing up the rear.

It made you wonder how tall he actually is. Soap and Gaz seem to be of average, if a bit taller, than normal height. The man behind you: Ghost, Lt, seemed taller. Roughly a hand or so, if you can judge by how both of them needed to look up when they looked behind you to talk to him. Good lord, you clench your hands in your pockets, your knees suddenly feel like jelly.

And what about what he said before, that you “had things in common”. It stuck in your brain, repeating over and over. Soap had been talking about how Ghost didn’t go out, just like you. So he was a loner, like you. That wasn’t hard to imagine, given his career and all that. But what else? You had no earthly clue what he saw in common with you. You sighed, another vapor trail winding out of your lips. Maybe he was just that much more observant.

One thing you do know is that, eventually, he’s going to get sick of you. A familiar knot forms in your stomach. If he’s pursuing the same thing his friends are, with their hands roaming more boldly with every block, he’ll either shoot his shot or wander off once you reach the club. You know it. You haven’t even said a word to him tonight. That's how these things usually end for you. The guys you like never seem to like you.

You reach the club just as your feet start to chafe in your boots. You can hear the music pulsing from outside. As you walk in, it’s loud and crowded, but it’s not terrible. You usually hate this: big crowds, smoke, a hundred tightly-packed voices yelling, loud music, the floor sticky and the lights strobing through the darkness. For what reason you can’t say, but tonight you actually can’t wait to cut loose, to feel normal like your friends do. You’ve come this far, drinking and spending time with strangers, you might as well dance to some awful techno music and shake off this stressful week.

You have a small hope that the big guy, Ghost, will shoot his shot. Maybe it’s all the small things he’s been doing thought the night. Having Soap get you another drink, handing you your coat, walking protectively behind you, he even took your coat from you to give to the coat-check.

The building is a large box, an old industrial space converted into a trendy night club. A bar on one end, DJ booth on the other, and the dance floor filling everything in between. The floor and the bar are equally packed tonight with only a sliver of empty space separating them from each other.

You all snake along in a single file line until Soap and your friend reach the bar. You watch as they lean against it together and order a couple more outrageously overpriced drinks. They turn around, backs to the bar, and usher everyone to join around them. Gaz leads your other friend to stand a little beyond the other couple, next to a steel column they can lean against. Left to find your own space, you form the last leg of a triangle between your two other friends, your back to the dance floor. Ghost, of course, hovers just behind you, protecting you from the other patrons as they push their way to and from the bar. You’re silently thankful for it. Even in heels, you’re very easy to knock over. Ghost didn’t have that problem. Everyone settles in and relaxes again, heads and legs bopping to the music.

Soap and Gaz make conversation with your friends, which you can’t hear. The pounding bass makes talking to anyone not immediately next to you an effort. The song ends and another starts. You see your other friend excitedly start to sing along to the lyrics.

Dancing in the moonlight, gazing at the stars so bright. Holding you until the sunrise, sleeping until the midnight.

Gaz smiles at her, joining in. It’s cute. It keeps your mind and eyes off of Soap slipping his hand around to palm your friend’s ass.

There’s a shout behind you, which you almost ignore as just another part of the song or ordinary club sounds. Ghost’s hand on your shoulder, pushing you into the middle of the space you had carved out, to safety, is what scares you. Before you can turn around, Soap is launching away from the bar. A scuffle had started on the dance floor right next to you. You watch as Soap hauls a guy about to throw a very drunken punch back by his collar. You can tell they’re not just friends but a team by the way Ghost catches him from Soap, turns him around and boots him towards the door.

Gaz slams a palm to the chest of a guy that peeled out of the crowd to defend his buddy. He barks an order at him and he obeys, throwing his hands up and turning away. You wouldn’t have believed it came out of soft, funny, Gaz if you hadn’t seen it. Those two guys must have been the main cause of the fight, because the bouncers show up not long after and clean out the rest of the rabble peacefully.

“Nice work: Lt, Gaz,” you hear Soap say to his teammates, patting each of them on the shoulder before cozying back up to your friend.

If she wasn’t seduced by now, that little display sure as hell had her. The music is too loud, but you swear you hear him say something to her about “protecting their girls”. She leans over and whispers something fiery into his ear, if you can guess from her enunciation. From the look in her eye, she’s not playing coy anymore. Not a beat passes before your friend is shoving her beer into your hand as Soap pulls her onto the dance floor, her eyes never leaving his. They shove their way into the crowd, disappearing from view.

Wasted, sippin’ on that liquor, you can taste it. Girl don’t touch that drink I know you laced it. I don’t know what to say except your mine mine mine.

You sigh listening to the music and take a sip. It’s warm and tastes horrible, too hoppy for your palette. You wince at the sour taste, but knock back the rest of it anyway. Anything to keep your mind off of Gaz and your other friend practically making out against the bar not two feet behind you. She breaks away from him, probably not wanting to continue being so intimate right next to you, and heads for the dance floor. Gaz doesn’t think twice before following her, his hand quickly winding around her hip, hers joining. A signal to everyone around. He’s mine. She’s with me. Back off.

You sigh into the empty beer bottle. Yeah, you miss that. You set the bottle on the bar, leaning forward against it for support. The optimistic mood you walked in with crushed. You’re ready to cut your losses and just leave. Only the thought of the cold, lonely walk back to your apartment tempting you to stay.

“Wanna join them?” Ghost asks you, back to the bar where he had slid up next to you, him arms crossed across his broad chest.

His voice is right in your ear, easily able to cut through the music and a thousand other noises. You’re absolutely positive he saw you shiver. You look up at him, finally, and it’s too much all at once. Your stomach clenches and you feel the bile catch in your throat. Your hand flies to your mouth. You’ve drunk too much. You’re not used to it. That’s why, you try to convince yourself. You’re a terrible liar though.

The first thing you see is his sleeve of tattoos that warp around his left arm, mostly skulls and flames from what you can make out. They’re large, well muscled arms. He’s not just tall but thick too. It finally clicks together in your head. Oh, that’s what he meant when he said you had things in common. He must have seen your own skull on your shoulder.

Could have been staring at it all night.

You tear your wide eyes away from his arm to his face and it’s the worst mistake you’ve made all night. He’s too fucking handsome. He has short, natural blonde hair and dark, hooded eyes. They’re staring at you like they’re just so tired, they just want a place to rest. His whole face is littered with long-healed scars that you can barely make out. You can see a deep one running through his right eyebrow. He has a typical English face: long, with high cheekbones set against a long, crooked nose. And his mouth. Oof, you catch your bottom lip in your mouth.

He’s only asking you to dance to be nice, to stay next to his friends. There is no way, absolutely no way, he’s interested in you: just standing there, blushing like a fool, staring at his mouth and nodding your head like an idiot. He’s too hot. You’re too drunk. Your brain can’t pull a sentence together, but yes, you do want to dance.

His right hand gestures for you to lead as a whining, grinding beat starts to scream out of the speakers. Maybe you are drunk, because you feel like you’re wading through jello trying to walk away from him under his gaze. With him behind you, however, you’re able to part through the crowd to your friends. All you have to do is follow the flashes of bright red, blue, green, and white of your friend’s clothes through the jostle of the sea of bodies.

Soap and your friend are pressed against each other, chest to back, locked into a battle for dominance. They're goading each other, a slid of a hand here, a press of a leg there, neither willing to give in to the other. She pulls away, shimmying her hips so tantalizingly close yet so far away, and then he’s pulling her back. He’s mouthing the lyrics to the song as you and Ghost stop next to them.

So just when you think true love’s begun, it goes off at any second like a loaded gun.

Gaz and your other friend are more languid in comparison, not kissing anymore but pressed chest to chest, hands sweetly holding onto each other as their hips and legs flow to the beat. You see them smiling and talking to each other, but you can't hear through the music. Ghost took his usual spot behind you when you stopped. He seemed to like that position, the watchman of your little group, of his friends and yours.

You know I can take you straight to heaven if you let me. You know I, I can make your body levitate if you let me.

Your friend screeches out your name. She untangles herself form Soap to step over to you and pull you into a hug.

“So happy you came to dance!” She yells in your ear before pulling away.

Soap’s arm is possessively winding right back around her waist, resting on her stomach. His other hand pinches her hip to pull her attention back to him, a devilish gleam in his eye. You can’t hear her, but she motions for you to cut loose, start dancing, before grabbing behind her to pinch Soap’s ear.

Ghost touches your arm. You look back at him. His deep voice is in your ear again. Fuck, your faces are right next to each other.

“This okay?”

His hand is hesitantly resting on your waist. You can feel his thumb pressing against your back, reaching almost to your spine. His fingers splay from the bottom of your rib cage to your hipbone. Fuck, he’s got big hands. Of course he does, he’s a big guy. You feel like you’re going to combust.

You nod, your heart pounding in your throat, guiding his hand to rest lower on your hip. It isn’t long before his other hand does the same. You rest your hands on his and start to sway your hips to the beat. You feel the warmth from his chest bleed across your back.

Your bodies together, you guide him to move to the music with you. Funny, you think, he’s been the one guiding and watching all night. Now is your chance to do the same for him. You zone out, join the jostle of the crowd, the beat of the music. You close your eyes against the bright pulse of the lights and melt back into him. A bubble forms in your chest and it makes you want to cry. Your head rests back on his chest. You feel so protected.

The song changes and your eyes open. It slows to a remix of something more intimate and the lights follow, growing dimmer until they barely cut through the smoke. You can't even see your friends in front of you. You absently stroke Ghost’s hands to the lyrics.

Mirror on the wall, tell me all the ways to stay away-ay ya, away-ay ya, and stay away-ay ya, away-ay ya, away-ay ya.

You whine as his hands curls around to your stomach, his strong fingers pressing you to him. He can’t hear you, so your hands on his are all the communication you can give him. You wind your fingers in his. It’s your consent, your plea. Your head is swimming with emotions. Please stay. Please continue. Please touch me. Please show me that I’m just as worthy of human contact as anyone else. Please please please please.

You feel his breath rustle the hair on the top of your head. It’s a sweet feeling. The two of you are hardly dancing anymore, barely shuffling back and forth. He presses his face into your hair, right above your ear, and you swear you hear him groan as you grind your ass to his pelvis. The friction of his rough jeans against the plush of your ass in your silky leggings is deliciously addicting. It shoots a spark right through your core.

If I could paint the sky would all the stars then shine a bloody red?

Boldly, you snake your hand up and touch his face. You feel the light stubble across the bottom of his jaw. He immediately stills and melts into your palm. You assume the worst until he sinks his head back to your ear.

“Wanna get outta here,” he mumbles in a voice that makes you clench.

The way he says it, it’s not a question. He’s leaving. He’s letting you know. If you want to follow, that’s your choice.

You nod your head again, almost ashamed how quickly you’re letting this happen. You can feel all of the excuses you want to say bubbling in your head: I don't normally do things like this. Go out drinking. Or dancing. Hook up with guys I just met. Guys I’ve barely talked to.

He presses a kiss you your ear and then he’s pulling away, his hand trailing across the lace on your back as he turns. You’re ready to move immediately, all lazy, lusty haze gone. Your hand finds his again and you press close, afraid to lose him in the dark as he parts a path through the crowd.

You grab your coats and you’re back out into the cold night air. It punches at the butterflies in your stomach. You both shimmy fully into your jackets as you walk out the door, his pace leaving no time for you to do so inside. Once you’ve followed him past the flock of people hanging around the entrance: smoking, yelling, trying to hail a cab, he pulls you to his side, hand protectively wrapping around your shoulder.

Once you’ve put a block behind you, you realize how quiet it is, how quiet you both are. Your heart starts to pound. God, you’re about to go home with a guy you haven’t spoken a word to! You don’t even know his real name! You can’t help but look up at him a little afraid. This is how all those sensational murder mysteries start, isn’t it?

“Wanna go back?” He asks stopping, his hand dropping off your shoulder.

You shake your head, finally saying something. “No! I just-” you can’t help but get caught up in the moment. What a guy, he would really walk you back to your friends if you wanted. You pull your hands around yourself for warmth. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Simon” he says nonchalantly.

You smile. Simon. The bubble expands in your chest again. You tell him your name, and, almost as a force of habit, you hold out your hand to shake. He grabs it softly. You can feel the rough skin of his fingers and palms across the back of your hand as he holds it. You can feel yourself blushing.

He pulls you into his chest and gives your butt a pat with his other hand.

“So,” he rumbles into your ear, “who’s place are we headed to: mine or yours?”

Songs referenced:

Dancin’ (KRONO Remix) - Aaron Smith SPIT IN MY FACE! - ThxSoMch Levitate - Hollywood Undead Black Out Days - Phantogram

a/n: Feel free to tell me what an ancient, cringe-fail, writer I am for not only putting lyrics in my fic but for picking these songs specifically in the tags. 😅 I also had too much fun writing reader's friends with Soap and Gaz. Maybe more of them in parts 3 and 4? 👀

#starry writes #mw2 #ghost/reader #call of duty #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #second real and polished fic ever! 🥳#part two next week maybe? i literally just have to edit it

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waltwhitmansbeard · 1 year

Text

a little thing based on this art. nsfw but not explicit.

Keyleth didn't buy the lingerie for herself. She never would—it just seems so...frivolous, and expensive, and embarrassing. She understands the appeal—people like soft, delicate things, like butterflies and lace—but...it just wasn't her.

Which is why she couldn't help but stare owlishly when a package was dumped unceremoniously in her lap on a random afternoon by a sun-kissed Pike. "Happy birthday."

"My...birthday was four months ago."

Pike shrugged. "Time is an illusion. Go on, open it."

Nothing could have surprised her more than the forest green negligee and matching panties she discovered nestled among blush pink tissue paper when she opened up the box. She sputtered out half a dozen different sentences at once, before finally choking out, "Why?"

"I thought it would go nicely with your complexion. I got a royal blue for Vex, because, y'know, she's got a motif going on." Pike smirked. "My set is yellow."

"Do we...have matching underwear?"

Pike rolled her eyes and hopped up on the couch in Keyleth's Zephran cottage. "Not matching, I just got a set for each of us. Y'know..." She elbowed Keyleth in the ribs. "For fun."

"Oh." Her blush extended all the way down her arms. "So this—I mean—I'm supposed to—"

"Keyleth, you can do what you want with it. Vex is gonna use hers to fuck Percy nasty, and I like to wear mine to dance around the house." She paused. "And also to fuck nasty. But why don't you just try wearing yours to sleep? It doesn't have to be sexual if you don't want it to be."

Keyleth swallowed hard. "Right."

"I mean, you put this on and Vax is definitely gonna break his leash, but—"

"OKAY, THANK YOU PIKE." She slammed the lid of the box closed and buried her face in her hands.

And yet, here she is, just a week later, inexplicably wearing the surprisingly soft lingerie set, lounging on the bed with a book in her hand. It's not a particularly interesting read—something about architecture and city planning that Percy insisted she peruse—but at least it'll help her fall asleep. Vax is curled up beside her, his long hair a waterfall up over his pillow, and she's got an arm around him, keeping him close, her favorite place for him to be.

Pike wasn't wrong: the first time Vax saw her wearing this, face red and lip chewed nervously, his eyes bulged—as did other things. But when she stammered out an explanation, he took her face in his hands, kissed her gently, and said, "You're always beautiful, and I always want you." His fingers toyed with the hem of the negligee. "This is just...bonus."

Now she pulls him in tighter, eying him over his shoulder. He's pretending to be asleep, probably to guilt her into turning off the light so he actually can go to sleep, and she takes the opportunity to admire him in the way she so often feels him admiring her. His muscles are long and ropey, giving him a deceptively wiry look, and in the past year or so since she's given it to him, the burn scar of her palm in the center of his back has healed into a warm red the color of her freckles. He is, in a word, sexy, and wearing this ridiculous, frilly thing makes her feel sexy too, a feeling that is so often foreign to her.

She catches him peeking over his shoulder at her. "Ah, so you are awake."

"No I'm not." He grins.

She sets the book on the nightstand beside her. "That sucks. If you were awake..." The sentence dangles in an unfinished suggestion.

His head fully cranes around, eyes dancing hopefully. "Yeah?"

Keyleth shrugs, and the motion makes the gauzy negligee ripple across her stomach. "But you're so tired."

He's on her then, warm body held aloft over hers by arms leaned by years of hurling daggers and scaling walls. "Oh, trust me." His smile glitters, playful and devilish. "I would love nothing more for you to tire me out."

And as his hand comes skittering up beneath the nightie, she grins up into a kiss, silently thanking Pike for the strangest, best gift she would never have asked for.

#critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #tlovm #tlovm fic #vox machina #vox machina fic #vaxleth #vaxleth fic #my fic

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moki-dokie · 9 months

Text

since my post about sexuality in bes took off, i've been thinking about making one about gender because people have been even more Chronically Western about that than anything. but the topic of gender has also been talked to death about this show.

still. i've yet to see a single person touch on the actual historical aspect of gender in this period of japan. (weeaboos where ARE yall??? i cannot be the only one left here jfc)

so, more below the cut.

okay. so. before westernization and christianity came in and obliterated and sanitized the culture, there were 3 recognized genders that i know of. there was possibly a fourth but my research only got me so far on that and i gave it up a long time ago. i'm gonna be talking about the 3 i do know about.

male and female were the obvious ones. aligns exactly how you think. cock and balls = male/man, vag and tits = female/woman. yes, there were many crossdressers of both genders. yes, there were people who by today's language and understanding would be considered trans. they, however, did not have these words nor have a need for them. you were either man or woman. or...

then there was a third, which was USUALLY but not always applied to adolescent males called wakashu. the closest thing you might refer it to is androgynous. earlier in edo period it was pretty much a catch-all for any adolescent male, but much later it became far more specific to the exceptional beauty of the young male. a wakashu was a sex icon, something to be desired and lusted after, so beautiful and alluring that even the most stoic and hardened samurai warrior could break and beg for their attention. and yes, we're talking about minors. wakashu were typically in the 6-17 age range. many delayed their coming-of-age ceremony (which would then make a wakashu a man) well into their 20s. and there are records of some who continued to identify as wakashu even into adulthood. a person could decide when it was time to move from wakashu to man, it wasn't so set in stone.

this time in japan did have a lot of strictness but there was also a whole hell of a lot of fluidity that was just so extremely normal for them. choosing to remain wakashu wasn't a big deal. want to go on to be a man? cool, congrats on all your man-related responsibilities now hurry up and find a wife. want to remain wakashu? cool, congrats on all the awesome sex you're gonna be having and the many things you'll be learning. either way was a good path. you were likely to have a bit more opportunities gaining power and land going forward as a man, but as wakashu you'd be expected to be an apprentice and learn more things from your teacher (while also sexually servicing him, extra bonus - most of the time.), so both had benefits. a samurai class wakashu, for example, would very likely go on to be a man since by nature of being samurai they have tons more opportunity. but a peasant wakashu would probably be more likely to remain wakashu and learn as much as possible and earn as much money as possible (since they were often prostitutes or performers as well).

so desirable were wakashu that sometimes female prostitutes tried to disguise themselves as one to attract more clients. they were often indistinguishable from women with their colorful and intricate kimono - sometimes the hairstyle was the only giveaway. and though the japanese didn't give a shit about the gender they were fucking, as i've covered before, true wakashu enjoyed a bit more freedoms with sex than did women pretending to be wakashu. like i mentioned in my previous post how they did have specific terms for who was giving and who was receiving in sex, certain aspects played into this. wakashu were expected to receive when with men, and expected to give with women. this would of course depend a little upon caste heirarchy too but that was the general gist of it. women on the other hand were expected to always receive. (and although straps were very much a thing, you'll find the double ended dildo far more popular amongst w/w relationships - at least in depictions. in reality it was probably an equal mix.)

the concept of wakashu has not entirely left japanese culture and has actually since been divvied up into the two aspects it represented: youth (shonen) and beauty (bishonen). hence why shonen manga and anime is so popular, why there are always always always bishonen prominent in manga and anime, why yaoi often has the strict dichotomy of uke and seme. and why shotac-n remains so wildly popular while the loli opposite has gradually declined with the introduction of censorship laws. the entire concept surrounding adolescent males is still very rooted in the role that the wakashu gender played until quite recent in history. (it formally ended in the meiji era, which was not that long ago.)

now with all of that said, where does mizu fall? she's still a woman. plain and simple. had she been born in late edo, she would have absolutely been considered an extraordinarily beautiful wakashu and lusted after constantly. people would be tripping over themselves to bed her. but being early edo that was not the case and she is still a woman having to disguise as a man in order to survive so she can fulfill her goal. that must be acknowledged. that is a key point that is brought up many times within the show. to ignore that fact is to erase who mizu is. she is masking as a man because she has been told since childhood being a woman would get her killed. because she has seen it far too many times how simply existing as a woman leads to a dead end. because she tried it and it turned out exactly as she was told. being a woman is not an option in her quest for revenge. if she weren't mixed race, though? i'd bet my left hand she would have embraced the hell out of wakashu and used it to her advantage. screw sex as an art, mizu would have made it a weapon. mizu wielding both a sword and the sexuality of wakashu would make her the deadliest thing in all of japan. however, that wasn't the case and we musn't ignore what is ths case. in her world, she is a woman forced to disguise as a man. period.

mizu by today's standard's is a whole different story, though. there is enough ambiguity that she can fit nearly any label you want to slap on her and that's fine. we have a lot more leniency with modern western terms. we have a huge spectrum of gender and you can toss her just about anywhere on it. you are all correct and incorrect simultaneously because any modern terminology applied to her is automatically headcanon. and just as i emphasized on my last post, headcanons, fics, AUs, ect, are exactly where these modern western ideals belong. it's awesome that she resonates with so many different gender identities - few characters in media can pull that off so well! yall should absolutely celebrate that! use her to express your gender euphoria! but do so while remembering who she is in canon. her canon experience is not pure fiction. there are still people in today's world that must disguise themselves out of necessity and quite often that ends up being women of color. there are people in living history who had to do that to survive.

you can respect the source material and also have your own unique headcanons and perspectives. both can be true.

#blue eye samurai #gender

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ddwcaph-game · 7 months

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MC's Dad

Whoops, the preview about MC's Dad took me a while longer, because I just added 16 new trinkets to the game!

"How can I get the new trinkets?" you may ask. Well, check out the new backstory details about MC's Dad below:

~~~~~

Note: These scenes are all in the prologue, when MC is writing their short story. Variables and flavor text are set to my testing defaults, with MC having [Draconic Ancestry].

Now that you know MC's Dad is an anthropologist, surely he must have some souvenirs from his trips, right? Well, that's where the new exclusive trinkets come in!

~~~~~

The last souvenir trinket has an extra-powerful bonus effect, so that's why I'm locking it for NewGame+.

Anyway, the above scene previously showed a different choice, so I moved that to the scene after MC wakes up in their new home:

~~~~~

And yup, MC's Dad is the reason why MC likes collecting trinkets!

I've updated the prologue with new information about MC's Dad a couple times already, but this is probably going to be the last one. The prologue has always been unclear about how much the twins remember about their dad, but this should help clear that up.

As for the new trinkets... you might remember from the earliest versions of the story that the locket actually gave different bonuses according to the gem you selected. I removed it since I didn't want to tie MC's favorite color to the bonuses, but this was the perfect choice to bring that back.

I love designing RPG items, if you can't tell. 😛 I had loads of treasure items and trinket ideas with their own special effects when I was younger! 😄 But yes, the new souvenir trinkets will be a lot more powerful than the trinkets you can currently find, and I tried to make sure the new effects are thematic, with a certain playstyle in mind.

This is a bit long already, so I'll show the new trinket effects in a later preview!

#ddwcaph previews #mc's dad #prologue #trinkets

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ninebluehearts · 2 years

Note

What about Joel and reader settling into life in Jackson? Bonus if you add in Joel’s sheep farm dream. -🥰

Aww, omg I love this!! Definitely adding Joel's sheep farm dream-

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You sat in an old wooden rocking chair in front of your living room window, multitasking between knitting hats for the other citizens and watching the neighborhood children play in the snow outside of you and Joel's little one-story home in the commune. Tommy and Maria had gifted it to you not long after your arrival, hoping it would help bring back some form of normality to your lives.

It had only been six weeks since you, Joel, and Ellie returned from Utah without a vaccine, and things were still a bit rocky. Though you didn't want to lie to Ellie about why they "couldn't" make the vaccine, Joel had been able to convince you to go along with his lie at the time.

There was an obvious strain on the relationships between the three of you that stemmed from the guilt you and Joel shared, but also Ellie's disappointment and obliviousness. She needed a reason to be special and you and Joel took that reason away just because you couldn't live with yourselves if you let her die.

But now she has friends, a family, her very own tiny house; hell, it's everything she's ever wanted. And that's what made things easy enough for you to live with. At least she's happy; for the most part.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the loud clomp, clomp, clomp, of Joel's snow boots thundering throughout the small one-story home Tommy and Maria had gifted the two of you. He had been out all morning and afternoon scanning the surrounding area of the commune for infected with Tommy and a couple of other guys.

"How did it go?" You asked as you started packing up your knitting supplies, your back aching from behind hunched over for the past few hours.

"Fine. Scanned every inch of them woods and found nothin' but snow and leaves." Joel replied, hanging up his coat and taking off his boots before making his way over to your chair, gently resting his forearm on the corner of the head piece. "What've you been busying yourself with today?"

"Hats." You stood up from your chair, stretching your arms above your head as muffled popping sounds emitted from your back. You sighed with relief, the dull ache that had slowly gotten worse as you worked finally started to subside. "By the way, have you seen Ellie today? I haven't seen her since dinner yesterday." You picked up your box of supplies with a huff, walking across the room to set it on the dining room table.

"No, but I'm going over there tonight to help her practice some more. I'm sure she wouldn't mind you taggin' along." Joel walked over to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder. "She's gettin' real good. Don't tell her I said that though."

You both let out a chuckle at that, your head resting against his. "Secret's safe with me." You mumbled before pressing a kiss to his cheek, your hand cradling the other against your palm. "I have a surprise for you."

"Oh yeah?" Joel began to gently kiss your neck, his hands slowly moving down to hold your hips.

"I've been talking to Tommy. He's talking about expanding the town; making more room for the gardens and such.

"Mhm.." Joel was only half listening, beginning to gently bite at your neck.

You let out a soft gasp, trying to focus on what you were saying. "He also said they found some sheep in a field nearby." You forced yourself to pull away from his embrace, turning to look him in the eyes. "He said he was looking for someone to look after them.."

Joel thought for a moment, his eyes lighting up once he figured out what you were hinting at. "Really? Why didn't he say anything before?"

"Because we were talking about it, and I said you had always wanted to have your very own sheep farm, so he asked me to ask you about it." You wrapped your arms around his neck, a huge smile on both of your lips. "So, what do you think?"

"I think you're the greatest woman I've ever met." Joel pressed his lips against yours, surging with excitement. "Damnit, I'm so in love with you, darlin'."

You giggled at how excited he was- how happy he is. "I love you too, baby."

Joel suddenly picked you up. "I think I need to show you just how thankful I am."

You kissed his cheek, leaning your forehead against his. "I think you do too."

Joel hurried towards the bedroom, both of you giggling like children on the way. Even though it was the end of the world, somehow you and Joel found a way to make things work like you always did.

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel's sheep farm #joel the last of us #hbo the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #thanks for the ask!!#💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙thoughts

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thatonefreemanversefic · 2 months

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Hello!! Rae (or Bees) here, welcome to the fic's official tumblr!! I do NOT know what I am doing!! YIPPEE!! YAHOO!! HIP HIP HOORAY!!! Let's go over a few things now. First of all, this tumblr is for anything and everything relating to the fic, and will be updated more regularly since none of it has to be all that official in comparison to adding new chapters and what not. Any and all interaction is encouraged, but you can also just enjoy looking at the pretty images and words too if you want! I get it. Because I do not want to clog up any main tags (Such as the Freemanverse tag or any character/ship tags), we'll be making our own to use here! I'll have them listed here eventually, but because I do not know what I'm doing that time is not now.

Sapph is also here btw, shoutout to them for helping me finish the banner (and image at the top of this post) it was kicking my ass. See if you can identify who they drew!! I bet it'll be a REAL challenge!!

Thank you so much for reading to the end! Actual posts on this tumblr will be made soon. Like, tomorrow probably. This took a while to set up but it will not take nearly as long to actually put into use!! Yay!! (Also you should TOTALLY ignore those weird blacked out splotches. They aren't characters to be revealed later on or anything, I wouldn't do that. Not to you. Trust.)

TAGS:

IMPORTANT - General information and what not art of the characters - Exactly what the name implies sneak peak - Screenshots or excerpts of whatever I'm working on Bonus POV - POV swaps not needed for the fic itself but still in that unvierse (AKA how I can write certain characters long before they ever show up) MISC - Miscellaneous things (still relate to the fic but don't quite fit any other category) Posts made by BLANK - Just a tagline so you know who posted what

#IMPORTANT #Posts made by rae #Posts made by bees #art of the characters

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acourtofthought · 8 months

Note

Not sure if you posted about this already. But what are your thoughts on the SJM interview when she said regrading the kiss doll scene

‘ I’ve planned for them to get together,…’

To my understanding, she was referring to the bonus chapter. Which is excellent, because I’m a gwynriel through and through

But she says that she planned to get them together … does that bother you considering elucien? Cuz that bugged me

I don't think that was necessarily referring to the bonus chapter because the interview, from what it sounds like, says that when writing a scene where she planned on two characters getting together.

"sometimes I will write a scene where I planned for them to get together, and they have no - it's like holding two dolls and being like" now kiss". And like - they won't and it will only take one scene where it's like "wow, okay, this is not like - even in my head what I thought would happen."

It seems she's telling us as she has been gearing up to write a physical scene that she had planned for two characters she envisioned as endgame, or even begins imagining how the two will eventually come together, she suddenly finds they have no chemistry and had to scrap the entire idea. I think that's more in line with what she spoke of with Lucien and Nesta, where she had always thought they'd be together until she realized they'd cause one another more hurt. It was her plan for them until she realized that they were not well matched. And when she later talks of characters that lead her story and tell her where they want to go, I think she's referring to pairings like Nessian who she said had chemistry from the moment they sat down at the table together.

And I don't think, had she been planning on two characters ending up together only to find out they fizzled when it came down to it, those scenes would have made it through the first draft or been written down in the first place. I imagine she began writing their journey with the intent of something happening only to go back and remove the scenes that would have led to the planned scene of them together, the scene that ended falling flat. At that point I imagine she would have course corrected and written in new scenes or hints of who they were actually going to end up with. Since she tells us Elain and Lucien took her by surprise in book 2, I think she has known for a long time she's building toward their endgame as they are an example of characters telling her where they wanted to go and I think the near kiss between she and Az on Solstice was premeditated as something that was always being set up to fail. The E/riel rebound seemed intentional because the Elucien pairing took her by surprise and she needed something for Elain as a bridge between her failed engagement and the acceptance for her mating bond. As far as Az and Gwyn, I think it's clear that SJM is headed in that direction and the language she uses for them makes it seem obvious that she has (in her mind) gotten them to a scene where they'd "kiss" and the chemistry remained so she's been moving forward with hints to their endgame. But I'm not sure if Gwyn was pre-planned for him and the pairing stuck as she initially hoped or whether SJM thought he'd end up with someone else like Emerie but realized Emerie was possibly meant for Mor instead and Gwyn ended up surprising her for Az.

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#elucien #gwynriel #anti e/riel

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the-red-thread-that-strangles · 7 months

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Some more bonus thoughts for the sweater weather AU, Akai family edition™ (somewhat disjointed because I've been busy)

The Akai siblings all have one of the OG cream sweaters, it's a matching set (this is conjecture, but the Akais seem like an old family line to me, and so they have a family crest, which is sneakily integrated into the knitting pattern - this makes the sweaters distinguishable to those in the know). The sweater thing was all brought on by Mary deliberately misunderstanding Shukichi's polite nudges about her being cold to her children.

This fact makes Amuro's meeting with Masumi even more awkward than in canon! :) Because she's sure she's seen this guy before, and he's wearing the family sweater, which leaves two main possibilities: either a) Amuro killed Akai and took his sweater or b) Amuro was Akai's friend/lover and was either gifted the sweater or inherited it after Akai's death (because she knows Shukichi and herself still have theirs). The whiskey trio seemed friendly when she met them, but her big brother was an agent and possibly undercover, so it's a toss-up and she's gonna be real suspicious of Rei going forward. Throughout this whole exchange Rei is hugging the sweater to himself as if it could protect him from this feral teen. It's not helping :)

Sweater exchanges become significantly more difficult due to Masumi's stalking ["Do something, FBI dog. She can't keep following me, eventually she'll get wrapped up in something she can't handle. And she's annoying. Also, tell her to get a different hat, fedoras are so cliché." - "Furuya-kun, she believes I'm dead." - "Well, maybe you should fix that, actually." (Rei has strong opinions on not telling people you faked your death, he's still miffed about Scotch)]. As a side effect, this also drags Okiya's already shaky credibility as his own definitely real person in the mud, and Mary ends up figuring her son out.

We all remember that scene at the end of the Scarlet Bullet movie where Mary waits in Okiya's car with a gun and threatens him, right? Well, that happens, but it's "I don't blame you for not telling us you faked your death. But you really could've called and told me about your partner." To which Akai is like "??? - Mother, my ex has been dead for half a year now, and we hadn't been dating for three years before that?" Mary is tempted to just shoot her stupid son, she's seen the security footage of the blonde guy coming over and staying for hours on a semi-regular basis. Masumi has told her how long they've known each other. She's seen them fight.

(Though for what it's worth, Akai's telling the truth - he might be teasing Furuya but the agent is, at this point, barely tolerating to have a couple of drinks with Shuichi after a particularly bad day. Since becoming Okiya he's been bored a lot, so he's mostly humoring Furuya and enjoying company where he doesn't have to hide his true self. He figures Furuya might need the same).

Nobody bothered to ask Shukichi, who knew the whole time Akai was still around, whoops (when they eventually decide to tell him, he pretends to be pleasantly surprised). He meets Amuro in his favourite sweater, smiles cheerfully, comments on the need for such cosy clothing (to which Amuro agrees pleasantly), and files the information away for later use with a sly glint in his eyes.

Sweater weather AU masterpost

#honestly since the brothers are talking it's possible akai told his little brother to not also needle rei on the sweater if he wears it #also surprising probably absolutely no-one considering furuya started at absolute zero. this is secretly a slow-burn romance #everybody else knows before they know #akam #sweater weather AU #rei does wear other sweaters too. but that first one is tinged with warmth and new beginnings #and we all know how weak Rei is to nostalgia #urgh #he deserves so much happiness

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steadypet101 · 7 months

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CW: Long post

"Valentine's Day art collection (sort of)"

Happy Valentine's Day! Here are the pen traced versions of my two favorite gay hedgehogs, and here are my TMNT Mutant Mayhem first two couples with my ocs. (I would've drawn Miffy and Reagan art, but I haven't drawn their bases just yet, I'm so sorry about that.)

So anyway, I have a short little story for these three. But since we all know how the first top part goes, I'm going for the bonus Sonadow.

"Nose to Nose" - Sonic grabbed Shadow quickly in a flash by his arms, making the dark hedgehog yelped in surprise. Suddenly, his nose touched the speedy blue hedgehog's nose. Still surprised by this, Shadow is speechless by this, which makes Sonic smile.

"Oh, come on, Shads. Don't act like you never wanted a nose to nose," Sonic said coyly.

"I don't. But just to humor you, I'll go along," Shadow said with a smirk on his face.

The hedgehogs then rubbed their noses together, making their hearts soar.

"I love you, faker," Shadow said.

"I love you, too, Shadow," Sonic said happily.

Shadow chuckled. "I love you more."

"I know you do."

"Alinardo adorkable kiss selfie" - "Come on, Leo! Let's take a selfie together!" Lea called out to Leo from peaking her head through the curtain into his and his brothers' bedroom after finishing cleaning up his twin katana blades with a rag.

He smiled as he put his blades in the corner of his space. "Okay, we'll go and take some with my phone," he said as he stepped out of the room.

"Yay!" Lea cheered. She watched Leo take out his cell phone from his belt, open up a camera app, and gesture the girl to come. She placed her hand onto his shoulder and prepared to smile for the camera. Just then, Lea pulled Leo closer to her face and began to kiss him on the cheek. Blushing, the leader in blue smiles for the camera with his adorkable smile as he takes the photo.

After the photo was taken, Lea took the phone and took a look at it with a smile. "Aw, Leo! We look so cute together! You especially look so cute with that smile."

Still blushing and smiling, Leo has a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Y-you think I have a cute smile?"

"I don't think, I know," the human replied.

The mutant turtle couldn't help but grinned widely.

"Hey, think you can send me this photo to my phone?" Lea asked as she gave Leo back his phone. "I want to save it and use it for my home wallpaper."

"Sure. I'd would love to," Leo said warmly.

"Susietello surprise kiss selfie" - Susie was studying on the dining table in the Turtles' lair when Donnie was approaching towards her. "Hey, Sue. Want to take a selfie with me?" Donnie asked as he took out his phone.

"Well, I'm a little busy at the moment, but I guess I can relax my brain for a bit," the human friend said as she closed her textbook and set it aside.

They both walked towards the opening of the lair, and Donnie had his camera ready. Meanwhile, Sue was planning how to make this selfie photo more memorable as she was fixing her pastel green hair and her glasses.

"Okay, ready?" the purple clad turtle asked.

"Ready," Sue answered.

The two get close together with the timer set. As Donnie smiled for the camera, he felt a hand on his head and a small kiss on his side of his head. It was Sue, and his facial expression changed from a photogenic smile to a surprised one. The camera clicked, and they both took a look at the photo. Donnie's heart was fluttering when he saw the proof of Sue kissing him.

"Uh, did-did you just?..." he stammered timidly.

"Yeah, I did. I thought this photo would be nice instead of our usual peace signs and making silly faces each time we take selfies," Sue smiled warmly. "Sorry about that."

Donnie couldn't help but blush at this. He smiled back to her. "No. This is perfect. I love it. Thank you for that. I really mean it."

"You're welcome, D. Anything for my best mutant turtle friend ever."

They shared smiles towards each other and began to head back to the lair. Donnie couldn't stop thinking of Sue's actions to the camera. He didn't expect that to happen, but it did. He was surprised, but he was happy that his human crush kissed him. Wish it would be on the lips, though, but oh well. There's always next time.

Wow, that's a lot of typing. Anyways, sorry if my stories were crappy. I hope y'all like them all. I'll edit them a little later.❤️🩷❤️🩷

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carriagelamp · 4 months

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All I can say is why did it take me so long to finally try reading Wodehouse? I knew I would like the Jeeves books and yet it took me until now to finally crack one. Definitely my highlight for this month, though I was also very into the two nonfiction books I read.

I'm finding more and more that I enjoy a nice, narrative nonfiction... any one have any similar recs? Nonfiction has never been on my radar but now I really want to find more that follow this narrative vein...

Candy Color Paradox Assorted Pack

A collection of short bonus stories collected from various points in the series. Kaburagi and Onoe both work for the same weekly magazine and are initially forced to work together on stakeouts. Their relationship gradually grows from antagonistic coworkers to lovers to genuine boyfriends who are learning how to make their relationship work. One of the things I appreciate about this series is that once they decide to date, their relationship stays fairly stable — there’s hiccups as they work on their own insecurities or relationship complications, but there’s no breaking up or will-they-won’t-they once they’re actually dating and the drama shifts to their shared work and making a relationship work in a fairly homophobic society. This particular volume was fun though nothing outstanding, but it will help tide me over until the next book in the series.

Console Wars

A non-fiction book I read on my brother’s recommendation. I only have a vague sort of interest in the video game industry, I mostly enjoy hearing my brother talk about it because he has a lot of knowledge about it, but I really enjoyed this book! It describes the ins-and-outs of the Nintendo relaunched the video game industry in North America with the Entertainment System, and then the competition that gradually developed between them and the underdog that was Sega. It was an exciting, amusing, and engagingly narrative look at that period in history! I would definitely recommend it to anyone that has an even passing interest in that point in time, this book really makes you root for everyone involved!

Five Nights At Freddy’s

You know what, this one was on me. I should have known exactly how bad it would be and I still chose to try it. The problem is, back when the first… three-ish FNAF games came out in 2014 and 2015 the lore was actually kind of neat. I had a lot of fun playing through them with my cousins trying to find out more about the story. Obviously it devolved into something completely different and a lot more get-that-money-from-those-kids over the years, but I, naively, thought hey… if they’re making a movie… maybe they’re returning to some of those original plot ideas? Maybe it will even be… kind of interesting? The Silver Eyes was a fairly neat novel, even if the lore felt very different so… maybe this one would be too?

Nope. Read a chapter, loathed everything from the writing, to the attitude, to the characters, and then slung it back at my local library unfinished. Don’t even bother picking this up, good lord.

My Happy Marriage 2

This was… fine. I rather enjoyed the first book of My Happy Marriage since it was a Cinderella-esque story set in the Taishō era with some fun magical elements. Lots of class division, the main character suffered very clear abuse and it wasn’t just brushed away, and her arranged fiancé was clearly overwhelmed and sympathetic when faced with this very different fiancée on his doorstep. The writing wasn’t great but the plot was fun. In book two the writing continued to not be great, but the plot also just… didn’t catch my interest. I’d still recommend the first book for some pleasant, light reading, but I don’t think I’ll continue with this series. Might try watching the anime instead…

The Inimitable Jeeves

I’ve been meaning to read the Jeeves books for years, and I finally got the push I needed from a mutual who was recommending it to me. It was everything I could have hoped for! Really made me think fondly of The Importance of Being Ernest by Oscar Wilde, or even Terry Pratchett’s writing to a certain extent — you can tell Pratchett read this author and picked up bits of his tone. Anyway, it’s exactly the sort of humour I enjoy and the whole thing is aided by having incredibly loveable characters. There’s the clever, unflappable valet Jeeves who seems capable of omniscience and of solving every problem to ever arise, as well as Bertie Wooster who I love with my entire heart. If Bertie was a different sort of character or narrator, this might have been a much less enjoyable series but he is a genuinely very kind, generous, likeable sort of person who is cheerfully aware that he’s a bit of an airhead and is happy to have Jeeves around to do this thinking. What a blessing. Highly recommend if you like short story collections and want something silly and fun.

The Last Firehawk v.11-12

This is a young children’s series that keeps compelling me to return to it for some reason. The first part of the series I actually quite liked and thought was very well done for the 5-8ish age group, depending on reading level. It’s easy reading but it’s a nice introduction to a linear quest plot and has reasonably nice art. There was a sharp decline in quality for most of the second series but I decided I should read the last two books just to say I’d done it. I’m happy to say that books eleven and twelve improved the story a little bit, with characters Tag, Skyla and Blaze discovering that their enemy from the first series (The Shadow) had returned and had taken a new host: a rat king that lived in the Underland.

The League of Lady Poisoners

An excellent nonfiction volume that contains short overviews of some famous female poisoners throughout history. It includes some nice, stylized art that was a treat, and I enjoyed the way the writer explored some of the motivations or reasons that a woman in these various time periods might resort to poisoning without painting every figure with a ubiquitous brush of Evil Monster. It was pretty light and I would read a story or two in the evenings.

The Long Patrol

I love Redwall books and felt like picking up one I hadn’t read before would be a nice treat for the spring. You pretty much know exactly what you’re going to get when you read a Redwall book and this one didn’t disappoint. It focused on various hares of the Long Patrol, the current Badger Lady, and a fun cast in Redwall Abbey. The dilemma arises because one of the Abbey walls is caving in and needs to be repaired, while a band of Rapscallion vermin are marching to try to take the Abbey for themselves. Standard fare. Lots of good food descriptions, a coming of age story for a young hare who had run away to join the Long Patrol, and a Goonies-style adventure with the Abbess and some of her friends as they explore the caverns beneath the Abbey. I can’t say I loved the book, but I enjoyed it. If you want a Redwall adventure, it delivers.

Owls in the Family

A cute chapter book that’s set in Saskatchewan during the middle of the century. It focuses on Billy who has a tendency to adopt strange pets that he collects from the plains. His newest acquisition is a pair of owlets — one he finds in a bush under a storm with a very spunky personality, the other a very meek, nervous one that he rescues from a group of older boys who were throwing stones at it. The book is filled with a variety of fun adventures that come from having a pair of loyal owls as pets that lightly terrorise the neighbourhood. It’s considered a school classic, though be prepared for some light racism considering it was published in the sixties…

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat

A sapphic food manga! It follows a protagonist who enjoys being able to cook and post about the meals she creates. She is somewhat resentful of the men who then expect that this means she will be a very “domestic” sort of girlfriend, someone who will consistently cook them meals and keep house. That’s not the point! She likes the artistry of cooking! One thing she’s never gotten much of a chance to try though is to create larger, more robust or complex meals, because as a single person there’s no way to eat it all. When she meets a neighbour from down the hall though, she’s delighted to have found someone who is very appreciative of her cooking and will enthusiastically join her in cooking and eating the meals. Such begins their relationship.

The Very Very Far North

This book feels like a modern day Winnie-the-Pooh. There’s a charming timelessness to it; it made an excellent bedtime book. The story follows Duane the polar bear as he gradually makes friends with some of the other animals who live in the Very Very Far North and the lighthearted adventures they have around the Arctic. The main theme of this story is how one can be friends with people who have very personalities and interests from yourself, and it does a great job of setting up each character as very different and then makes them learn how to coexist and get along.

Minecraft: The Village

The last of Max Brook’s Minecraft trilogy. I also can’t believe I’ve read three entire Minecraft novels considering I couldn’t give two hoots about the game in general, but Max Brooks treats the topic surprisingly seriously and creates a compelling story. The series began with the protagonist, Guy, waking up in this strange world with very few memories of his life before, and now forced to learn how to understand the bizarre rules of this world and learn how to survive. Each book in the series (The Island, The Mountain, The Village) expands the scope of Guy’s world and the challenges he has to overcome. The first book focuses on how to survive as an individual, how to learn and respect the natural world, and how to find a moral compass even on one’s own. The second book introduces a new character, Summer, and focuses on learning how to compromise and work alongside another person, and is all about friendship rules. The second was, imo, the weakest of the series but since I am not the intended audience the friendship lessons also felt the most dull to me. This third book was another uptick and may be my favourite of the series. Guy and Summer leave the Mountain in an effort to find a way to return to their true homes and along the way discover a Village that’s filled with villagers. In this book their world expands to include other people and cultures as they have to learn how to respect other people’s autonomy, and question what it means to exist as a society. It really poses some neat questions, I enjoyed the discussion a lot. A nice strong ending to the series.

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