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soleilceirinen · 8 months

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Renaissance | teacher!Cillian Murphy x fem!Reader - Part 5

Summary: you are an Art History student in your last year at university. Cillian is your teacher. A/N: in this story Cillian is about 20 years older than the reader. Everything happens in an alternative universe where he is not an actor or famous, he doesn't have a wife or kids like in real life. Also, English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistake! Part 4 - Cillian Murphy Masterlist - Part 6

The next week passed by in what seemed to be the blink of an eye. You kept yourself busy in order to avoid Brad, which wasn’t very hard to do since you had lectures in the mornings and then you had to go to the gallery for the final preparations before Friday.

You didn’t say anything about Cillian to your friends. Probably, Olivia would encourage you to have fun but Valerie would freak out, not only due to the age gap but also due to the fact that he was your teacher and someone in a position of power over you.

So you kept him as your little secret.

Moreover, he had invited you to have dinner at his place twice during the week. Instead of meeting in the coffee shop or his office to review your project, he suggested doing it at his house. After all, he had a huge collection of books related to the topic of your research that he insisted you could borrow if you needed. You couldn’t be more grateful.

And finally, Friday night came. You were at the gallery with Maureen and Laura, the exhibition was a great success, eight of the paintings were already sold so you could feel satisfied.

You were standing in front of the painting which was inspired by Olivia, looking at it and taking small sips from your glass of wine. You loved opening a new exhibition at the gallery, it made you feel mature and elegant just by talking to potential buyers while drinking wine.

Someone stopped by your side and imitated the way you were standing in front of the painting, he was holding a bottle of beer.

You smiled, without needing to look at him to know that he had the most beautiful pair of blue eyes you had ever seen. He pointed at the painting with the hand that held the beer.

“It’s interesting how human beings have been painting and sculpting this type of motif since Prehistory. It represents the depth of our desire and the origin of life, is just fascinating. Like a door that we must cross for the world to welcome us ” he spoke nonchalantly.

You looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“This was inspired by my friend Olivia, you know?” you said, looking directly at him.

Cillian sighed and took a sip of beer. “I didn’t need that information, Y/N. Honestly, I hope I never have to meet your friend.”

“Why not?” you hit him in the arm playfully. “She’s nice. Also, I think she’s over there with the artist.”

“It’s a pussy,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“Yes, it is. Olivia’s, to be more precise” you corrected him, ready to tell him how excited was Olivia after being an artist's muse.

Suddenly, Maureen appeared from nowhere and hugged Cillian. You looked at them a bit confused but remained silent.

“Cillian! It’s been ages since I saw you last time, you’ve been hiding in the basement or what?” she joked. He rolled his eyes and smiled.

“Just busy with work, lots of essays to mark, you know how it is. Some of them make me want to tear my eyes out.”

“Mines too?” you asked, staring at him over your now empty glass of wine.

“Yours are a breath of fresh air, Y/N. Impeccable writing is appreciated from time to time” he said, pointing at you before turning to Maureen. “She’s my favourite student, very hard working.”

Maureen snorted.

“I know she’s hard working, Cill. “ She put her arm around your waist and turned to you. “Did you know that me and Cillian studied together when we were at the university?”

You looked between them with wide eyes. “I had no idea, no.”

“Yes, back then in the Paleolithic” murmured Cillian, earning a pinch in the arm from Maureen.

You frowned and shook your head. “You’re not that old.”

“Thank you, dear” Maureen gave you a little squeeze. “Have fun tonight, both of you. I’d like to stay and talk about those wonderful years with this dork but I have work to do.”

After that, you gave Cillian a little tour around the gallery, helping Laura and Maureen from time to time until the last visitor left, way after dark. Both of you watched as Maureen closed the door and then kissed Laura, it made you blush just thinking of the affection and delicacy with which both touched each other.

You sighed, wishing Cillian to show that kind of tenderness to you, to be touched that way by his wide hands and maybe, if you were lucky enough, to be kissed by him.

He put a hand on your back, snapping you out of your reverie.

“What are you thinking about? You seemed to be far away from here.”

You shook your head, thinking of something to say.

“It’s nothing, just… tonight was a good day at work, we even sold Olivia’s painting” you joked. It was hard to concentrate on saying something coherent with Cillian’s fingertips tracing circles on your back.

You started walking towards Cillian’s house after saying goodbye to your bosses. His house was close to the art gallery so you didn’t mind the little walk despite your outfit choice. He noticed you shivering a bit due to the autumn wind so before you could refuse, he took off his jacket and put it over your shoulders.

It seems so cliché, you thought. Still, you couldn't suppress the urge to bury your nose in the soft fabric and inhale. As expected, it smelled like him.

“Do you mind if I tell you something?” he asked quietly.

“Not at all. What is it?” you looked at him somewhat worried. He kept walking with his hands in his pockets.

“That dress is nice,” he said, making a pause. "You look beautiful tonight.”

You stopped walking and stared at him, not believing his words. “What?”

“I mean, you always look good but tonight you look like you had been taken out of a painting, so ethereal” he added, caressing your hair.

“Stop lying…” you muttered.

He had his eyes fixed on your face, not letting any of your features go unnoticed. To be seen by those eyes was incomparable to anything else, its intensity was quite overwhelming.

“I don’t need to lie to you, I’m just being honest. It’s okay if…?” Cillian hesitated, still searching your face for any signs of discomfort or rejection. The last thing he wanted after the incident with your roommate was to scare you.

“If… what?” you whispered with your heart pounding like a wild bird.

“May I kiss you, Y/N?”

After taking a look at the street and seeing that it was empty except for the two of you, you closed the distance that separated your bodies with a kiss.

It was slow and delicate, barely a caress from your lips, both of you taking your time while adjusting to each other's rhythm. You had your arms wrapped around his neck with his hair tangled between your fingers as he put his hands on your hips, moving them up and down and making you shiver.

Once your lips parted away, you looked at each other with parsimony, without letting go. Cillian opened the mouth to say something but nothing came out of it. For the first time, he seemed to have run out of words.

It made you giggle slightly, although what you really wanted to do was laugh out loud, feeling as light as a feather, as if you had found the place where you belonged right there, in his arms.

“You know, the first time I saw you, I thought you looked like you'd been taken out of a painting, too” you said, letting your hands slide from his neck to his shoulders and down his arms until resting them in his hands.

“Oh, really?” he laughed and intertwined his fingers with yours.

You nodded, smiling. “Like a renaissance prince or a mythological god, something like that.”

#cillian murphy x reader #teacher x student #cillian murphy imagine #alternate universe #cillian murphy #reader insert

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lunaevangeline · 2 years

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Constellation

Written for my dear Elle @queenelleee ❤️ (I'm sorry it took eons for me to write this. This was just the second time I wrote about him, I hope this is okay.)

Warning: Sakusa Kiyoomi x gn!reader, mention of broken-home, mention of insecurity, too much technical and astrophysical terms

"Do you know that love is merely an illusion?"

You're in the middle sipping your favorite beverage, stopping your activity, almost coughing.

"Sorry?"

You tilt your head quizzically, fingers still playing with the cup ear.

It's not a peak hour like lunchtime when the students rush to the cafeteria, all you can hear is faint chit-chat, some typing sounds, and the clock ticking on the wall. But now your attention is fully on him and what he is going to explain.

"It's just a normal brain response. A bunch of chemical reactions are released by your brain when you start constantly thinking about someone."

"You feel excited and euphoric from dopamine. Adrenaline and norepinephrine make your cheeks flush, your palms feel sweaty, and your heart race when you meet that person," Sakusa explained passionately.

"And boom! People will say that you're in love."

It's no surprise to hear Sakusa utter some random facts. He's quite vocal with his thoughts, as he's become more comfortable with you.

You hum. "Scientifically speaking it's indeed true," you continue to stir your already lukewarm drink.

"But what you were talking about was only an 'attraction', not 'love'. Love is a deep connection, builds with time and grows as an attachment," you say softly.

Sakusa Kiyoomi is not one who loves to use his heart. He uses his brain more to think in a logical manner, he doesn't like nonsense (although he just said love is also chemically controlled by the brain).

You met him during an astrophysics class. You rushed to the class because it was almost time, and quickly found an empty seat beside a man. He looks beautiful like a night sky, with a pair of deep and drowning dark eyes, and there's a constellation underneath his curled bangs.

"Is this seat taken?" You bent down, peering at him casually.

"No." He was not bothered to see you, too busy preparing his sets of lecture notes.

"Then, may I sit here?"

He simply nodded. You let out a small 'thank you' before taking a seat.

He seemed witty and careful, scribbling the Friedmann equation for the case of expanding universe coherently. He was neat, his set of simple stationery queuing on the desk with a label of his name - which you found really adorable.

Sakusa Kiyoomi

"Sakusa-san, what's your favorite constellation?"

He choked an eyebrow, such a random question from a random classmate he just met. But he didn't mind since he love this specific topic.

"Maybe it would be Ursa major. Pretty and steady, you can see it rotating respectively to Polaris, the north star. It has a long history and interesting myth because it was very useful for navigation."

You giggled softly, "Interesting."

You took a glance at his beauty marks, "Oh, you got a mark of Canis minor."

"Pardon?" His tone was slightly offended. He lowered his face so that the curls of his hair could hide it, to be honest, sometimes he felt insecure about it.

"Ah sorry, I didn't mean anything. I just honestly think they're pretty."

You flashed a genuine smile that almost affected his composure.

The professor coughed, piercing a glare towards you. "Attention please," a stern voice roared from his throat.

You bowed in apology and you could hear a small chuckle of the man beside you.

Since then, you're constantly talking to him. There's something about you that captivates him. Something made him start sitting next to you (or you next to him, based on who came first), even starting to have lunch together.

It might be just a natural consequence of your presence. Being around you is undeniably fun; talking to you, hearing the echo of your crisp laugh over his jokes, or discussing the lecture material or some mundane topics.

For Sakusa, who for the past of his life only knows himself and used to calculate every aspect of his life, your entrance is like a butterfly effect, creating irregularities in his daily life. The small flapping wings made small turbulence that started to grow into bigger chaos.

Sakusa who used to plan and put everything in a tidy arrangement unprecedently falls. He felt weird that his emotion worked in such an unpredictable way and how his body moved by itself.

He didn't like it at first; he wiped away the warm feeling in his chest every time he sees your smile, he rolled his eyes at the butterfly on his stomach when you pick a leaf that was tucked into his hair.

"The universe was very close to homogeneous at the very beginning, and strongly radiation dominated."

"But then there are small fluctuations during inflation that give rise to some density variations in the primordial soup. This is called quantum fluctuation, which ignites the formation of large-scale structure in the Universe."

You reverie as the professor explained. On the other hand, Sakusa takes notes as he contemplates the beginning of all.

He thinks maybe you're that kind of fluctuation in his universe. Growing as entangled feelings, cultivate a strange infatuation in him. You draw him closer for every giggle you share, every witty discussion, and how caring you're to him.

But is it easy for him to let himself fall? Of course not.

Sakusa denial behavior is a counterintuitive effort he can do, but his gesture said otherwise. To pull you closer when you're sharing an umbrella - so one of his shoulders gets a little wet by the rain drops, to tug your hair behind your ears when some strands are almost touching your ramen soup, and he doesn't even notice how his voice is an octave softer then he usually is.

Today you have a plan to go out with him for stargazing. You find him in front of your dormitory, wearing his casual t-shirt and varsity. His hairs are pitch black as the night sky on a new moon.

"Let's go!" You chirped excitedly, too excited that you stumbled on the sidewalk. Fortunately, Sakusa successfully catches you with his good reflex.

You'd expected his scold, but then all you can hear is a chuckle and a face painted with a soft smile under the street light.

"You're really stubborn sometimes," he tucks some strands of your hair behind your ear and pats your head.

You don't know what got into him because now he's cupping your cheek with one hand, caressing your skin with his calloused thumb. It's too close and you swear you can see adoration from his dark eyes.

Sakusa noticed that you were wearing the hoodie he gave you during class a few days ago. That day the ac was too cold for you and he insisted you to put it on, which you can return whenever you want. But now he doesn't really care when it frames your adorable figure perfectly.

Your heart almost jumps out of place, pumping a magnitude louder than usual. You hope he doesn't notice because on this late night only a few vehicles pass down the street. He becomes closer as the time goes slowly, now an inch away with a warm breath ghosting over your skin.

Sakusa is too melted down by his feeling right now. You both anticipate something more could happen. But one second, two seconds, three seconds passed. Nothing happened. No one is brave enough to take one step forward.

"Sorry, it was nothing," he gulped, clearing his dry throat. He parts his hand from your face hesitantly, continuing to walk down the street as if nothing happened.

Leave dumbfounded by him, you hold your breath and clench your fist. The tension and frustration got you enough.

"Sakusa, just be straightforward about your feeling," you murmur.

"What are you talking about?" he stopped his way.

"I'm talking about you. You look at me as if you're love-struck but I don't know what to do if you won't make it clear," your eyes squinted, desperation lingered in your tone.

He furrows his eyebrows as if your question is the hardest equation he has to solve.

"Am I?" he asked back, pretending hard he couldn't comprehend the answer. Sakusa is intelligent he already knew where the answer lies.

"That's the only logical implication I can conclude from your behavior." You look into his dark eyes which he avoids in reflex.

It's only been months but you feel like you've known him forever. He's quite aware of how well you read his emotions, how your words are powerful enough to reach the bottom of his heart.

There's a suffocating silence in between, only the wind lulls stroking the grasses.

"Am I wrong?"

"Look at me and tell me you're not," you plead with a hoarse voice. They were too scared to get hurt but if it's gonna be hurt, it's better now than later.

"Love is irrational."

"-and it's scary." He says quietly, there's hesitation there, and you can sense fear.

A reassuring smile plastered on your face, you stroke his digits, feeling the bone and vein under his pale skin. "Being in love is a part of human nature you know, just like the gravity law. Love connects people like the big structure of the universe, doting lines between points to form constellations. Love allows us to breathe fresh air when it's too suffocating."

"Love may grow us apart," he counters.

Seeing his parents as a very first example is never a pleasant experience for Sakusa. He has seen love grow them apart as the taste becomes bland with arguments and debate.

You shake your head slowly, "It won't be the same for everyone else as you think," reminding the fact that you and him are not his parents. You and him are a whole different thing without any attachment to their broken past relationship.

You extend your arm, offering your sole hand.

"It might not be always easy, but should we try?" Your hopeful eyes gleam at him.

Sakusa takes it as a firm confirmation. As the first human both feared and excited about the unknown he feels them too for love. He let your smaller digits wrap around his palm. Then, he knows everything will be okay.

masterlist

taglist: @hyeque @passionateuchiha @crystal-lilac @ohtobiors @pklm10 @aizumie @miya-dynasty @satisfactooru @wolffmaiden @wayyen @justheretoaskandread @simp4ren @simpforerenn @sweetkoshi @suckerforsugawara @tjjjrsj @i4tsumu @chibishae34

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robbiefischer · 5 months

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i hate this paper i'm writing and i'm sick of looking at it. could i ask for some fun facts about julian and niko? anything you want to tell me, i'll take ANYTHING.

On the one hand, I feel like I shouldn't distract you from what you should be doing. But on the other hand, I empathize and will take absolutely any excuse to talk about Julian and Niko - if you don't mind I'm just going to throw out some basic stuff because it's been so long. But do your paper, okay? You'll feel so much better once it's done. Cut to save a life (and your dash).

Julian's a musician - he's the lead singer, songwriter and guitarist for a band that he started with his best friend Saoirse, called fables. Other core members include Zoe (Saoirse's girlfriend), Annika, Lachlan and Avery. They've released five studio albums, and tour regularly. He's also an artist - he's done most of the band's promotional materials, merch designs, album covers, etc. and occasionally does work on commission. Niko is an art historian and museum curator (he has his PhD), and works as the chief curator at the largest art museum in New Islington.

Julian's family... are sort of evenly split between absolutely awful and wonderful. His bio-mom is (well, was - I ended up killing her off during the pandemic because honestly, she needed to go) pretty much evil and his dad was an extreme enabler of her narcissism and abuse. They're slowly developing a bit of a relationship again now that Julian's mom is gone, but they were essentially no-contact for years. On the other hand, his aunt (dad's sister) Clare and her wife Ana are fantastic. They basically acted as his second moms as much as they could during his childhood and teenage years and their home was always a refuge for him when he could get away. Niko's family is great, even if his relationship with his father has had some rough spots. His dad's really not bad, but he's very high-achieving and always expected that out of Niko as well. Very much a "where are the other two points?????" person if Niko brought home a 98% on a test, and while Niko's always been very academically and achievement-oriented, it wore on him a lot when he was younger. Niko's family still lives in Greece, so Julian's aunt Ana has basically adopted him as her own honorary son - they're thick as thieves.

Niko's favorite flower are sunflowers, and Julian's are tulips. Julian loves roses and peonies as well, but don't give him lilies.

They both share a love of traveling and are lucky enough that they both have to do quite a bit for work. Julian will often join Niko on work trips if he can, and it's not at all uncommon for Niko to fly out for a few days at the end of a tour so they can explore whatever city the band's in. They're all about the local culture when they travel - they'll check out a few museums and monuments, go on neighborhood walking tours to look at beautiful architecture and learn about the history of wherever they are, go to lectures and concerts, and spend their evenings checking out fun little wine or cocktail bars and local restaurants. Neither of them are beach people. Julian burns so easily even with sunscreen, and Niko's really not a fan of getting sand everywhere. Plus, they both find lying there listening to the ocean boring.

One thing they don't share is their feelings on birthdays. Niko is such a birthday person. The anniversary of his fabulous self being unleashed upon the world? Heck yeah, he's going to celebrate. He doesn't go as far as having a birthday month, but he definitely has a birthday week and will usually have multiple celebrations with different friend groups. He's such an extrovert, has tons of friends and wants to see everyone. They throw a big, fancy party every year for his birthday and he looks forward to it and works on planning it down to every last detail for months in advance. Julian, on the other hand... he has a lot of complicated feelings surrounding his birthday. Between how awful his mom always made it for him, and then how his shitty ex-boyfriend would be on his birthday, he used to prefer ignoring it entirely. He's come to enjoy a smaller, more low-key celebration with Clare, Ana and his bandmates and then a fancy birthday night with just Niko but it's taken him a while to get there. And he does not want a big, fancy party like his husband does - Niko made the mistake of planning him one the first year they were together and, while Julian did his best to enjoy it and be grateful, it really wasn't his thing at all and he asked Niko to please never do that again. It was just so stressful and anxiety-inducing for him.

Julian's asthmatic just in case that's relevant to anyone's interests. Also, an insomniac. Both are relatively well-controlled usually, but he'll have insomnia flare-ups a few times a year and his asthma acts up more if he's sick.

Niko's had a bit of a bad back ever since he threw it out at work helping to move a few big pieces for an exhibit the museum was putting on. He's been through a lot of physical therapy for it, had an injection or two and has (mostly) controlled it ever since with yoga, swimming, regular massages and occasional courses of anti-inflammatories and muscle relaxants when it's flaring up. Julian's started doing yoga with him, although he's really more into it for the stress reduction benefits. He does it every night before bed and it's helped a lot with his sleep issues.

I know there's SO much more I could talk about for them, but my brain's doing the "Jules and Niko? I have never met them in my entire life" thing right now and I think I need to take a break. But I hope you enjoyed this!

p.s. Go write your paper if you haven't by now!

#asked and answered #my ocs #oc: julian #oc: niko

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eruverse · 1 year

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Headcanon: jobs!!

This post talks about human jobs the nationpeoples have. Anyway, I think the nations aren’t always diplomats or politicians, even tho they could indeed take on some tasks along those lines. In general tho the nationpeoples are linked to the state/work for the state so it’s quite rare to find them working corporate jobs or opening businesses. IF they do, then ultimately these corporations have the state as their clients. Basically everything they do typically goes to the state fast.

Russia:

He has a military job (lieutenant general) with medical training. He’s been in the military for the longest time and would love some change + a bit of distance from the state, but the state doesn’t really allow him to (there are indeed some nations with a fate like that). At the same time, he’s not much suited for other things so he keeps returning to the same path? Yeah. He does have hobbies tho, for example he loves studying math and physics and would often sneak into good universities to learn under esteemed lecturers. They love him because he’s such a curious and attentive student but at the same time he’s not much cut out to do the works needed to obtain a degree, so he doesn’t get those. However he’s better than many academics in the field simply because he’s much older than them and has been studying for a hella long time (he’s also naturally gifted in these).

This is stereotypical of him, but yes he’s good at hacking. Often trolls people with his capabilities, which is at times harmless but sometimes he does some unhinged shit which causes legit headaches. Sometimes he uses his abilities to hack into America’s house and wreck shit with his computerized home appliances. Nothing harmful of course, and America also takes it all in fun strides and would call Russia back like “Hey you got lucky this time!! Awesome what you did!!” (They’re both kids ok).

Mongolia:

I mentioned his job before on another post some time ago, but basically he’s a nomad and he works with nomads, not sorry to be predictable lol. He travels all over the country to make sure the nomads live well, so basically some kind of an overseer and mediator. He also works in the conservation side of national parks. His jobs demand him to be out on his feet almost all the time and he’s too happy for it to want other jobs, lol. He only spends maybe a few months a year in the city.

During communist era he used to be in the military and became a general/lt. general (highest rank was marshal, right after army general). As a rule, the nationpeoples who were under Soviet Union + satellite states were all in the military. Even without that tho Mongolia has been in the military for the longest time since Empire era (in general medieval nomads doubled as armies), and these days he’s still called a lot to advise. He still trains a lot and a bulk of that is military level trainings.

Kazakhstan:

He’s a tech engineer for energy field hired by the state. Also does plenty programming but he does best with what he can work with his own hands, and any programming he does is ultimately linked to his main job. He often tinkers with techs at home as sources of inspiration.

(Yes, he’s Rich)

During communist era he was a lieutenant + military engineer. Was, and still is, an excellent sniper.

Uzbekistan:

Is a scholar in Central Asian history/related studies. He has deep interest in everything Central Asian and often does research under state sponsorship. As he’s also a student under sufi masters, his interests also include religion and/or theology.

His side job is gardening. He’s also a resident cook for people around him as he’s really great at it.

Turkey:

He works as a state advisor but his side job is designing bespoke attire for men and women alike. He works with the best quality garments made in his country and his customers are all high-end ones. His hobbies include sewing, knitting and dressing people up — which in fact he’s practiced since Seljuk era, where slave girls became stunning consorts in his hands. He loves beautiful people, but he’s very much on board with spoiling them so they could rise up to his standards.

#hetalia #aph mongolia #hws mongolia #oc kazakhstan #hws kazakhstan #aph russia #hws russia #oc uzbekistan #hws uzbekistan #aph turkey #hws turkey #my headcanon #i have lots fun here o

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jesuis-melodrama · 1 year

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Happy Belated Birthday to the Eternal Queen – Marie Antoinette

The very symbol for femininity, absolute monarchy, hedonism, and luxury, Marie Antoinette is not only one of the most controversial figures of history, but one of its most polarising.

One side of the spectrum may see her as a ignorant, wealth-loving, party-crazy Madame Déficit, while the other sees her as a misunderstood, unfortunate woman who was unfairly blamed for a country's troubles because of her foreign heritage.

To honour her anniversary on 2 novembre, here are two of my absolute favourite depictions of her in art.

Marie Antoinette as portrayed by Kirsten Dunst in the film Marie Antoinette (2006) directed by auteur Sofia Coppola, and Marie Antoinette as drawn by mangaka Sakamoto Shin-ichi.

Despite being made by different minds and cultural contexts, an element that ties both artists together is that they both saw Marie Antoinette for what she is – a young girl.

Coppola is criticised for her use of contemporary pop and rock music in her film, which some critics feel made the movie too modern and removed the setting from its history roots, but there was another overlooked aspect of modern culture in her film – a pair of lavender Converses left unassumingly in the backdrop during the I Want Candy montage, almost unseeable at first glance among other salient points of Louis-heel shoes.

Coppola asserts that the shoes had not been left there by accident, a deliberate "fun" choice made by Second Unit Director Roman Coppola, and metaphorically could represent the young spirit of the then-Princess (roughly 17-18 at the scene). Likewise with the soundtrack, it may be hard to tell with Dunst playing the character from ages 14-30, and of course with historical elements a general audience would always assume the traditional and the stuffy of period films, but hard-banging soundtracks such as Hong Kong Garden by Siouxsie and the Banshees, and Aphrodisiac by Bow Wow Wow help to assert that these people acting in very different manners, that holds themselves archaically, and certainly talk and dress unorthodoxically are in fact just like the youth of modern times.

Artists Sakamoto Shin-ichi takes this concept of combining the contemporary with the by-gone one step further – young, frivolous Queen Marie Antoinette actively uses social media in her Innocent Rouge appearances.

Her disconnection to not only the Third Estate but lesser nobles is shown through how she views them all as Likes given to her Instagram photos and Twitter posts, as a mass populace rather than individual beings. She is elevated to the point of delusion as she holds strong regards to her position as a blue-blooded noble, a God-chosen monarch.

Yet, like the megalomaniacal media stars of today's age, Sakamoto also painfully reminds the audience of Marie Antoinette's naïvety and youth; most exemplified during a scene where Marie Antoinette responds to a series of scolding messages sent by mother Holy Roman Empress Maria-Teresa with a tongue-sticking-out emoji.

A classic, and stereotypically irritating response from children to lecturing parents.

Whether or not Marie Antoinette truly deserved all the suffering she had undergone as she had gleefully deprived France of its currency for her own greed, or whether or not she was a misunderstood woman forced to suffer injustice by bearing the unfair hatred of an entire nation will never be uncovered.

All we have remaining of Marie Antoinette is secondary sources, second-hand accounts whose bias-filled words claim her as a saint or a devil, a noble queen or a whore.

But she was once a child, and a manifestation of France and Austria's alliance, enduring stiffening court rituals which would've tested the temper of any person. She was a woman sentenced to fate, and beyond that, she was a person.

#marie antoinette #sakamoto shin-ichi #sofia coppola #analysis

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msommers · 2 years

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I would love more Maeve + Superstore thoughts, her friendship with Jonah sounds amazing

(i forgot about this in my drafts for too many days bc i’m a huge dummy don’t look at me here we go slamming post lmfao) oh boy, the tags were a 30 second long goof experiment but i'm always prepared to extend that for any scenario. let's make up some absolute nonsense for the lulz and cuteness.

literally do not ask me why posh brit accent maeve is working at a store in missouri because i don't have time for it and that's not part of the "everything here is for fun" theme.

one of her running gags is that she’s always talking about concepts for stories and tropes that she wants to explore/deconstruct, but anytime she’s asked about progress she’ll have some wild explanation for why she didn’t get very far into writing. there have been at least two rr martin comments made about how long it’s taken her to finish her first book. jonah, amy, sandra and cheyenne have all read some of her short stories/misc chapters of the first book because they’re here favorites full stop. final two seasons are for sure the “oh [bleep], maeve published her book and it’s really taking off” arc for her.

cheyenne is the little sister that she never had, they have matching nails and accessories all the time. maeve often does her hair for her because it’s fun to them and gives them chat time.

she did sandra’s hair and make-up for her wedding 🥰

was genuinely intimidated and putoff by dina for a good while but i cannot be talked out of believing that they wouldn’t have a c-plot in a later season episode of maeve making dina look as hot as can be and trying to teach her how to flirt without being so blunt. is she successful with that last bit?? not really, but she gets to dress dina up and also receive some good advice on not taking people’s shit along the way so that’s fantastic (garrett’s dying in the background and that’s all part of the plan tbh)

obligatory b-plot of maeve having to explain bisexuality and polamory to the breakroom clowns because most of them can’t understand her love life. probably came about as a result of another running gag where maeve talks about one of her dates and it doesn’t add up with her former comments much to the confusion of her coworkers, and then she has to whip out the lecture because she gets accused of straight up lying or fooling around on her partner.

once accidentally made people think she and amy were going on a date because she told justine they were "going out for dinner tonight" and it started an entire Discussion behind their backs (she does, in fact, put out the offer to amy before leaving work. gotta shoot that shot, maybe amy’s feeling a little curious that night who knows a girl can dream)

she and jonah instantly connected and became great friends. they share a specific optimistic outlook in the way that they can see the world for what it could be instead of what it currently is and it’s something that brought them together, then kept them close even through the rough times. she loves his commitment and dedication to any cause that he undertakes, his efforts are inspiring and keep her going whenever her own start to waver. she is absolutely obsessed with how he consistently finds a way to put his foot in his mouth during any conversation, the yin to her yang as maeve’s known for being able to spin a web as quickly and for as long as necessary. their shared need to be validated and praised goes a long way between them because they’re annoyingly nice to each other all the time. they’re those two at the breakroom table talking animatedly about their latest interest or topic they picked up from a podcast/news article/reddit post (toxic masculinity, current politics, feminism, some obscure piece of history or a cryptid of the week, etc). he’s endlessly patient with her and she’s beyond thankful for it. flipside is that she unironically loves listening to him go off on his Woke Rants and gets bullied about it but doesn’t care, she’s there for him through the relationship struggles and does her best to give advice while not stepping over the line (might toe it once or twice but. what can you do, she’s a drama lover). she might have been late because beauty routines but she was also there each step of the way for the union work, besties get it done. maeve sweet talks them and then jonah goes on a righteous rant it’s a win/win.

i think it’s entirely possible she and jonah dated because of how well they get along, but i don’t see it lasting a crazy long time. maybe two, three months at the most (perhaps it’s mostly bc i’m an amy/jonah hoe and they belong together forever but whatever, don’t perceive me). a scenario where they’d both decide it’s better they stay friends and they get away with it without much weirdness, aka maeve’s fine and jonah or the coworkers makes it awkward sometimes before it settles. i do in fact think he’d be the first love interest of maeve’s that i can see her using “baby” as the primary petname because like,,,it’s jonah. you get it. if they dated, she has a photo taken of them from one of their dates taped up in her breakroom locker and it stays up there until she leaves the job bc she adores it so much.

insert bit where maeve makes a threesome joke with her + jonah and amy, and there’s a pause Just long enough with everyone looking between each other that it appears genuine consideration is there but the camera cuts before anything else is said. the world may never know what happened after that

everyone keeps trying to make drama between her and amy because they’re both close to jonah, but i fully believe maeve would adore and respect her far too much to reach any level of rivalry. she’d be in awe of how strong of a woman amy is between raising her children and working her ass off so successfully, and i imagine a lot of their bonding would be maeve persuading her into taking time for herself or them having girls’ nights (whether by themselves or with some of the others).

put the tabby obligated “they have two hands” joke here about maeve/amy/jonah. i haven’t put any thought into if it’d work out or if the other two could be into that sort of relationship but i’m legally and morally obligated to bring it up on the principle that it’s My Thing.

#ch: maeve sommers #i don't know what else to tag this as so i simply won't #days later tabby here: i have vague memories of writing these things super late at night so that's prolly why it was forgotten #between that and dnd the day after lol #a whole load of rambles and y'know what that's tabby all over so i'm leaving it like this #we're not here for neatly organized or fancily worded thoughts #thank you for the ask!!! it was so fun n cute

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years

Text

The Lesson

After breaking up with your long-term boyfriend, you finally found the courage to enrol at university, studying Modern Theatre. Your life now taking an unexpected detour to its original plan of marriage, babies, settling down. This is going to be an interesting year.

Tag List (message me to be added): @queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @cloudofdisney

Warnings - smut / teacher.student relationship

Main Characters - Cillian Murphy (he's 35 and single for the purpose of this fic, no children)

"Hey!!! Over here!!" You heard Sarah, your best friend, shouting from the other side of the hall and made your way over.

"Thank god, I was starting to think I'd gone to the wrong place! This place is huge!!" You laughed as you hugged each other. Your bag slung over your shoulder, you linked arms with Sarah with your other arm as you made your way down to the Lecture Theatre.

"So how are you feeling?" Sarah asked.

"Nervous! I never, in a million years, thought I'd be doing this! I feel so old!" You laughed. At 26, you were easily the oldest student here, but Sarah laughed your worries away.

"Trust me, you're not. Once they revealed who the teacher was going to be this semester, a fair few extra people signed up to do that course y/n!" You looked at her confused.

"What, Mr Allen?? He's about 75 isn't he?" Sarah laughed again and left you at the door to your classroom, making her way to her own Design Studio at the bottom of the corridor to teach her own class.

"You'll see when you get inside!" She called behind her, smiling.

You took your seats near the front of the room, looking behind you you could see a gaggle of ladies in the back corner, all of them easily over the age of 40 with no clear interest at all in the subject at hand. They were all giggling like children.. this was going to be fun, you thought, rolling your eyes. Turning back round, you caught a glimpse of a dark haired man making his way through the door at the back of the room. As he made his way to the desk in the centre of the stage area in front of the students, you couldn't help but gasp a little. Jesus he was cute....

The ladies at the back squealed in delight and the man rolled his eyes.

"Right then, let's make a few things clear from the off shall we folks?" He spoke, his Irish accent booming through the auditorium. Everyone fell silent.

"I have a passion for the arts - I've been involved with them since I was 19. I'm here to teach you all I've learned over the last 16years and I plan on teaching it to like minded, dedicated people. People who want to make a career out of the beauty that is theatre. Those of you here simply to catch a glimpse of anything OTHER than a teacher doing his job, the doors at the back of the room." He stood still, leaning against the desk. The gasp at the back of the room was so loud, you couldn't help but giggle a little. Busted ladies. They all whispered to each other, a few of them glaring in the man's direction as they made their way to the back of the room. Slowly but surely, a few others also left sheepishly, men included, and you couldn't help but notice the man smiling a little underneath his floppy brown hair and round glasses. Who was this man??

"Now that's taken care of, I'm hoping I'm left with students that are here to learn the theatre and nothing else..." He paused, looking round the room. His eyes met yours and he paused for a second, raising his eyebrow slightly. You were now the oldest in the room, and you felt even more out of place. You kept a straight face, and maintained the eye contact with him. He wasn't bullying YOU out of here, you didn't care who he THOUGHT he was.

"Right... Well we'd better get going then!" His demeanour changed, he smiled broadly clapping his hands together. "My name's Cillian Murphy - please for the love of God call me Cillian... Mr Murphy is my Dad and I'm not quite ready for that level of old yet." A few chuckles in the room - that tension was gone. "This isn't the first time I've done a class like this, and I've had to evict people part way through for.. ah.. shall we say inappropriate behaviour. Wanted to nip that in the bud from the offset, so I apologise to you all now for the way the class started. Now, do you all have the textbooks the school sent out last month? Let's start on page 35 shall we?" The class, including you, opened the books in unison to find the chapter on Lighting and Sound. Cillian glanced back over at you, a look of uncertainty on his face. You could feel him staring, but refused to look up at him.

"So how are your classes going y/n?" Your mum walked into your apartment to find you studying, book one side, laptop the other and you making notes in the middle of your desk in the corner of the room. You'd given her a key a month prior so she could let your dog, Juno, out during the day while you were at uni.

"It's hard work! I had no idea there was so much to learn about the theatre, they make it look so easy!!"

Your mum laughed and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for you both. Kicking back, you allowed yourself a break after 3 hours studying and met your mum at the small breakfast bar.

"I hear you have a new teacher too? Cillian Murphy?"

"Yeah, he's amazing! He's been there and done it all mum, the stories he tells are fascinating!"

"You know who he is, right?" You did know. You'd googled him when you got home after that first lesson. Pretty big hot shot actor, but you weren't bothered. He seemed pretty down to earth and normal to you.

"Yep I know - you'd never think it though, he's so... Normal I guess?"

"Cute too."

"Mother! Behave!" You both giggled. You couldn't deny he was very attractive though - but you could tell he was a professional. No way had he even looked at you that way - in fact you were convinced he thought you were there purely for him, rather than the course, so you were even more determined to pass this semester with flying colours to prove a point.

The following weeks were filled with more information than you could get your head around. You hated to admit it, but you were struggling to keep up. You hated admitting defeat, but you were really starting to wonder if you could carry on at this pace. Your work was starting to slip, and Cillian had noticed it too, much to your dismay. He'd called a 1-2-1 with you this afternoon, and you were convinced he was going to pull you from the course. You knocked on the door of his office, the defeat written all over your face.

"Come in y/n.."

"Hi.." you tried to smile as you sat across from him. He had your latest piece of coursework in front of him on the desk and he was leaning back in the chair, eyeing you through the rims of his round glasses. Standing up, he made his was over to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room and pulled out a bottle of Irish Whiskey. You watched him, silently, as he put two glasses on the desk.

"Shouldn't be drinking this during the day, but felt the need. Want one?" You smiled, nodding your head.

"Conversation is clearly not going to be a fun one, no?"

"What makes you say that? I'm just lightening the mood y/n, you walked in here looking like you were going to either cry or knock me out!" He laughed, and offered you the glass. You took it, and sat it in your hands. Your fingers connected and you forced down a gasp at the contact. You'd refused to show him any kind of attraction but it was difficult while he was sat so close to you.

"Listen, I know I'm falling behind Cillian, I'll make it up I promise -"

"Stop. It's okay. Yes, your marks are dropping slightly, but not by much, okay? I'm seeing real potential in you. I invited you here to talk to you about some extra classes to help bump you back to where you need to be. What do you say?" He took a sip of the whiskey and so did you. Relief washing through you as the warm liquid fell down your throat. Hopefully it hid the blush in your cheeks.

"Um.. wow... Okay.. yeah! That'd be great, thank you!" He smiled again. God that smile... Stop it y/n.. he's your teacher, stop.. he sat back down at his desk and handed you a book.

"Great! I've put my phone number on the inside cover. Have a read of this, and call me when you're done. I think you'll like it." You took the book and smiled. A history of Modern Theatre. You agreed, definitely an interesting read.

"Is it classed as 'appropriate' for a teacher to give a student his phone number, Cillian?" You smirked, referring to his opening outburst on that first day. He chuckled.

"Maybe not, but I'm not a teacher, I'm an actor helping out the local university for a semester while the actual teacher takes a leave of absence." You'd heard Mr Allen had fallen ill, Cillian was just a temporary stand in for three months. Nothing permanent. "I have a new job starting in January, I'll be done here by Christmas." You couldn't help but feel a bit sad at the thought of him not being around anymore. Without admitting it, you'd looked forward to seeing him every day in class. He stood again, and raised his glass in a toast. You raised yours.

"What are we drinking to?"

"You. We're drinking to you y/n. I'm telling you, I'm seeing some real potential with you - you're going far, just need to focus more on the content, that's all." You blushed again.. was that the reason you were distracted? Him? Maybe. "Meet me back here tonight, around 4:30? Should be done with marking by then, we can make a start?" You agreed, a nervous knot forming in your stomach.

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

You'd been having your 1-2-1 meetings with Cillian for more than a month now, and your marks were certainly improving. You had finished the book he gave you, but you hadn't plucked up the courage to text him yet. Watching TV alone in your apartment one evening, you downed your third glass of wine and picked up your phone. He wouldn't have given you the number if he didn't expect you to use it, come on y/n...

"Hey Cillian? Just letting you know I finished the book. Really good read, thank you! I'll have it back with you in the morning. And thank you for spending time with me helping to improve my marks too, it's really helped. Y/n x" pressing send, you cursed yourself, why the hell did you put a X at the end!!! You cursed again when it was delivered... Then again when its status changed to 'read'... Oh crap... A reply.

"Glad you liked it! It's been a pleasure, you're doing a great job! Cx." He put one on his text too... Come on y/n, you're not a teenager anymore, get a grip of yourself!!! Your phone pinged again.

"Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow xx" 2 kisses? Ping.. "Maybe we can finish more than your coursework.x" What did that mean? Was he flirting with you?

"What did you have in mind? X"

"There's still half a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard, shame to let it go to waste X"

"I don't think you'd be able to keep up with me Cillian 😉" you typed, feeling a bit braver.

"Challenge accepted y/n. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon X" you knew his stint at the university was coming to a close, was he flirting with you?

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

You knocked Cillian's office door at 4:30 sharp, knowing how much of a stickler he was for punctuality. You felt nervous, after your texts last night you didn't know what to expect - was he flirting or were you just overthinking it? The door opened, and he stood aside to welcome you in, a smile on his face as he greeted you.

"Good to see you y/n, come on in!" He walked to the cabinet in the corner. "I never turn down a challenge, you in?" You smiled, nodding, as he poured two glasses.

"Good job I left the car at home this morning," you chuckled as he brought his glass to meet yours. Both of you sinking it down in one, you grimaced as the liquid slipped down your throat and he took the glass from you to pour another.

"We'll take this one a bit slower y/n, what do you say?" His eyes darkened slightly, the alcohol clearly having an effect. You couldn't help the warm feeling running through your groin as he licked his lips to clear them of the whiskey remnants that sat on them.

"Whatever you say sir.." he glanced up at you as you said 'sir', and leaned against the desk.

"Sir? Since when did you call me sir?" He tilted his head back slightly, glass swirling in his hand. You sipped your drink and stood to face him, confidence growing. You could see his attraction towards you, and you decided to go with it.

"Since you decided to try and seduce your student... Sir." He swallowed hard, the game clearly up, watching you take a step towards him. Your bodies inches apart, he brought his hand up to rest on your hip, pulling you that little bit closer.

"Probably shouldn't have put kisses on a text to your teacher, then, should you.."

"Probably shouldn't have given me your phone number then, should you.." the air was hot now, your bodies touching gently, your breathing becoming deeper. You brought your hands to his chest, over his shoulders, and he quickly spun you round so you were now sat on his desk. His lips found yours and he ground his hips against your core, your legs parted allowing him access, skirt hitched up to your waist.

"I've wanted you since that first day... Fuck y/n you're beautiful... Sexy... Smart..." He kissed your neck between each word, breathing becoming hot and heavy. Suddenly stopping, he kissed your lips before making his way to the door, turning the key in the lock, before coming back to finish what you started. Unbuttoning your blouse and opening it, his hand snaked around your breasts, underneath the black lace bra. Groaning slightly, he moved his hands lower, down your abdomen.

"Leave as much on as possible... I'm taking you on this desk, right now.. you okay with that?"

"Like I said sir, I don't know if you'll be able to keep up with me.." your leg pushed him away slightly as you stood up, pushing him against the wall. You sank to your knees, taking his trousers and boxer shorts down with them, his cock springing up, twitching, begging for attention. Gasping, he watched you lick a circle around the swollen head, down the shaft, before taking one of his balls into your mouth and sucking lightly. His hand in your hair now, pulling it gently as he groaned. You continued teasing him with your tongue, before taking the tip of his cock into your mouth, giving it a hard suck, releasing it with a pop, sending his head back against the wall.

"Fuck... Take it y/n.. take it down..." You smiled, before sinking your mouth over his cock, all the way down the back of your throat, groaning into it sending shockwaves through him.

"Lets see how much you can take..." You sucked harder, not giving him time to react. Moving your head quickly up and down his shaft, you felt your core begin to leak, you'd never felt as turned on in your life as you did right now. You felt his legs start to shake...

"Yes.. fuck yes... Feels so good baby... Suck it... Harder.. god fuck yes..." His balls tightened, you could feel him trying to pull back but you held him firm with your hands on his hips, willing him to empty into you. "I'm gonna... You might... Jesus.... Fuck...." He came hard, gripping your hair for support as he came hard, you felt his cum shoot in the back of your throat and swallowed as much as you could, some of it spilling down your chin. You pulled your mouth away, holding your mouth slightly open so he could see his cum on your tongue before swallowing it back down.

"That was... My god... Fuck y/n..."

"Oh you will sir, you definitely will. I'm not done with you yet.." you stood up and sat back on the desk, legs parted again to reveal your core to him, completely bare. He didn't see you remove your underwear while you were sucking him, but he wasn't complaining. Gathering himself, he moved to stand between your legs and pulled your lips to his, kissing you passionately, tasting a little of himself in the process and feeling surprisingly aroused from it. He moved his mouth down to your core, running his tongue along your open slot painfully slowly.

"Cillian... Please... Need to cum...."

"You will, baby, oh you will..." You moved your hands to his soft, floppy hair and pulled his face where you needed it. He loved you taking control and took your clit with his tongue, pressing it, rolling it around his tongue as he felt you begin to shake. You lifted a leg onto the desk to give him better access, and he inserted two fingers inside you, tipping them up to meet your g spot deep inside, emitting a sharp cry from you as you three your head back.

"Yes!!! Oh god yes... Right there... Fuck!!" Your hips were involuntarily rolling against his face now, riding his tongue as he brought you more pleasure than you thought was possible. Within minutes, your orgasm was building, and sensing it, he pumped his fingers harder against that one spot that was making you see stars. Three pumps and you came hard against his face, liquid flowing from you like a waterfall, hitting the floor underneath you as you screamed Cillians name. He leaned back on his ankles, watching you coming undone, smiling. Once you'd caught your breath, your eyes fell onto his his.

"Feeling proud of yourself there Mr Murphy?" You smiled. He stood between your thighs again.

"Extremely. But I'm not done with you yet. Turn around y/n." His blue eyes darker now. Your core throbbed, knowing what was coming. Standing up, turning round, you bent over his desk, his hands parting your legs. Taking a condom from his bag behind him, you heard the packet rip open and you rotated your hips, teasing him. He groaned deeply as he started to push his length into you, inch by inch.

"Ohh... Oh god..." You weren't ready for his size, you legs parting as much as possible. Inch by inch he pushed, allowing you to adjust, before bottoming out, his balls resting near your still throbbing clit.

"I'm gonna fuck you hard against this desk, y/n... You're gonna take every thrust like the good girl you are..." You bucked your hips up and he responded by pulling his cock nearly out, and thrusting back in powerfully enough to make you scream his name. Picking up the pace, he leaned over to grab your hair in his hand, giving it a sharp tug as he thrust into you from behind over and over, relentlessly.

"Harder... Cillian harder!!! Fucking... Oh god yes!!!" Loving the sound of your cries and the feel of your pussy contracting around his cock, he knew you were close to another orgasm.

"Rub yourself... Rub your clit baby, make yourself cum for me..." You reached a hand round to your core and found that bundle of nerves. Circling it hard, your orgasm built up again and you swore you saw stars.

"Good girl.... That's it baby... Let it go, I've got you... Let it go...." That was all you needed to hear. You came hard, and he couldn't hold back once he felt your walls contracting round him. "I'm... Oh y/n yes... Yes!" He stilled, you felt his cock pulsate, filling the condom. Both of you breathless, he fell forwards resting against your back.

He pulled out gently, pulling the condom off and disposing of it in the bin, he chuckled slightly.

"Remind me to empty the bin before we leave... I don't think the cleaner will expect to see that in there in the morning!" You laughed too, standing up to face him.

"That was incredible... Just amazing..." You rested your head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your hair gently.

"I enjoyed that too y/n.. and I'd really like to see you again, if you'll let me?"

"I'd like that..." You smiled. You'd convinced yourself if anything happened it would probably be a one time thing, I mean he was a famous actor, what would he want with you? You had no illusions going into this.

"My teaching finishes here in 2 weeks - what do you say I take you out for dinner when it's done?"

"Sounds like a plan Cillian. But am I supposed to stay away until then?"

"Definitely not, y/n, we've still got a few 1-2-1 sessions to squeeze in before I leave..." He leaned down to kiss you, pushing you back against the desk again. His erection pressing against your core again. "It would appear I'm able to keep up after all y/n..."

#cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian teacher x you #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian x smut

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 13 - ao3 -

The wedding of a sect leader with the stature of Wen Ruohan was, as Lao Nie had predicted, an experience unlike any Lan Qiren had ever had before.

It was also, as Wen Ruohan had predicted, loud and full of crowds, things that Lan Qiren didn’t especially like. Luckily, despite being the groom’s ‘brother’, Wen Ruohan wasn’t requiring Lan Qiren to actually participate in any way, and he was just able to watch from a distance.

He tried not to think of Wen Ruohan’s casual admission that he had, in fact, devised the marriage just to deal with the issues with Lan Qiren’s reputation – and Lao Nie’s concern thereof, no doubt – and reassured himself that the bride was undoubtedly well prepared for her new life and would soon find her footing as the mistress of the Wen sect, where she would more than likely be happy in time.

That was how such things went, wasn’t it? Even with his sect’s notorious tendency towards love-madness, the people like his father, who married for love, were the exception and not the rule…

(He also tried not to think about the fact that Wen Ruohan accepted all the toasts for his wedding using a drinking bowl in Gusu style, painted with a border of vermilion birds, or the fact that, despite Lan Qiren having gifted a set, it was the only one of its kind on the table, leaving Wen Ruohan's new bride to drink from a much fancier gold-gilded bowl – but that was more because he didn’t understand what it meant, and wasn’t sure he wanted to.)

“Did you even get a chance to see him?” his brother asked when they returned, looking coldly disapproving.

“I did,” Lan Qiren said, thinking to himself less of the dinner that they’d shared with Lao Nie and more of the brief moment when the Lan sect delegation been about to leave, a servant appearing and whisking him off briefly back to the family quarters where Wen Ruohan, looking as composed as ever, pressed a too-familiar hand to his head and told him that he was sure he’d be seeing him again soon. “He didn’t say much.”

Nothing his brother would care about, anyway.

His brother nodded, looking unsurprised, and dismissed him, remarking unnecessarily, “You missed the first few days of classes,” as if Lan Qiren wasn’t aware of when each season of classes started for the disciples better than him. After all, Lan Qiren hoped to become a teacher one day, when he tired of traveling, and to do for future generations of the Lan sect what his teachers had done for him, and he took it as seriously as he did anything else.

The seasonal classes were his favorite, largely because such classes were open not only to the Lan sect disciples but to certain guest disciples – typically the children of rogue cultivators that the Lan sect wanted to encourage to join the sect, which meant that they had to pass through the same rigorous standards applicable to the usual sect disciples. Lan Qiren had always thought it was a shame that their classes were so limited in scope, although he acknowledged there wasn’t much to be done about it; after all, how many sects would be willing to send their children to be taught by outsiders?

A puzzle for another day.

For now, Lan Qiren made his way to the classroom, taking advantage of the lunch break to settle his things in his familiar seat at the side of the room. He hoped that coming in during the middle of the day would reduce the number of whispers that seemed to invariably greet him these days – luckily much more inclined to see him as a source of information rather than a victim or, worse, a perpetrator – but he didn’t have much faith in it.

“Hey, you’re in my seat.”

Lan Qiren looked up: it was a female disciple. Her face was unfamiliar to him, which suggested she was a rogue cultivator – while men and women lived separately in the Cloud Recesses, they came together for meals and other such events, and despite his introversion, Lan Qiren knew most if not all of his peer group by now.

“Sanren,” he said politely, rising and saluting. “Forgive me, but this has always been my seat.”

She frowned at him. “You didn’t claim it at the start of classes.”

“I missed the start of classes due to an unavoidable conflict.”

“I’ve been using it all week,” she said, and looked at him expectantly, as if anticipating an answer.

Lan Qiren wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say here. “I’ve been using it all my life. What’s your point?”

“So you’re not going to give it up for me?”

Lan Qiren stared at her. “Obviously not.”

She grinned toothily at him. “All the boys give up their seats for me. I understand that it’s a matter of etiquette.”

“Whoever told you that was lying,” he said flatly.

“Oh, I like you,” she said, and crossed her arms – an aggressive posture, although her tone, like Wen Ruohan’s, seemed more amused than anything else. How strange to see a sudden resemblance, when they very clearly had nothing else in common. “How would you know? Maybe it’s in the rules.”

Well, that was a mistake.

“Really,” Lan Qiren said, and smiled. “Why don’t we examine that supposition?”

She blinked at him, suddenly wary, but it was too late: if there was one thing Lan Qiren knew, it was his sect’s rules. Learning how to beat people over the head with them on purpose was a more recent development, and he was still working on fine-tuning that – most people started begging for mercy while he still felt irritated, but when they continued listening with apparent interest, as the rogue cultivator girl did, he swiftly forgot that he was trying to make a point and shifted over to actual enthusiasm for the subject.

“Cangse Sanren!”

Lan Qiren’s listener started and very nearly fell over – she’d put her chin on her hands at some point during the discussion of the origin of the rules regarding interactions between men and women, and hadn’t accounted for that when twisting to see who was calling her.

It was a mixed group of sect disciples, with some of Lan Qiren’s cousins and disciples of other surnames that he recognized, plus a few more that were likely rogue cultivators’ children as well.

“Oh,” she said. “You. What is it?”

“I see you got caught up in one of Lan-er-gongzi’s boring rule lectures,” one of the disciples said – one of Lan Ganhui’s friends, with Lan Ganhui himself nearby, grimacing at him in an attempt to make him stop. Lan Ganhui had gotten a lot more likely to leave Lan Qiren alone ever since Lan Yueheng had decided to befriend him, even intervening to make his friends leave off, but this time the other disciple ignored him, his eyes too focused on those ahead of him to pay him any mind; he was smiling intently at the rogue cultivator girl in a way that was clearly attempting to seem charming. “Don’t feel like you have to listen to him just because he’s main branch, you know! No one else does.”

“You shouldn’t say that,” one of the others muttered, glancing warily at Lan Qiren. It wasn’t apparent whether he was concerned about Lan Qiren’s rank, personality, or family connection.

For his part, Lan Qiren just felt tired. He would like to think that they were all part of the same sect, learning the same things, but he knew that wasn’t how the world worked. There were good people and bad in every sect, and the undercurrents that came with any community were inescapable.

“You’re joking, right?” the girl – who had the title of Cangse Sanren, apparently – said unexpectedly. “His explanation is three times more interesting than the stupid learning by rote we’ve been doing so far.”

“Learning by repetition has a long history of being the most effective way of learning something,” Lan Qiren objected. “Even the most unrepentant scoundrel would learn the rules by heart if he had to copy them down for a month, and then when that was done and the foundation built, you could get started on explaining the why of them.”

“But repetition’s not as interesting,” Cangse Sanren said. “I really liked that story about Lan Yi.”

Lan Qiren looked at her suspiciously. He’d never outgrown his tendency to speak in a dull monotone – one of his peers had once compared it to the thudding of grinding stones in a mill – and it was the rare person who actually appreciated the rules the way he did. His teachers, of course, and some of the other more studious disciples did, but even with them he’d be hard pressed to say they actually liked his rambling.

She held up her hands. “Really! I feel like I understand why she put the rule in place now, whereas before it felt like I was just learning the rule for the sake of learning the rule.”

“That’s because you need to learn the rules before you learn the background,” he said. “The rules are a house built without nails, each piece in its place doing its part to maintain the whole - one rule backs another, while being supported in turn. Only once you know what the rules are can you move to understanding the reasons behind them.”

And from understanding to accepting, allowing our ancestors’ wisdom to act as a guiding light that clears the fog from your path, he wanted to say, because he loved the rules, truly and sincerely.

People made fun of him sometimes, thinking him boring or stuffy or overly strict, with no flexibility and too little empathy, saying he was obsessed with the rules for no beneficial purpose, but to him the rules were a gift from the past to the future. The Wall of Discipline represented the accumulated life experience of dozens if not hundreds of Lan sect disciples before him, turned through debate and contemplation into advice they thought would be able to help guide those that came after them to living a good, clean, happy life. As their descendant, how could he fail to honor that which those people, who had loved him without knowing him, had strained themselves to give him?

In just the same way, it was his duty to love the future generations that had yet to be born, to act as the bridge to that unknown future, entrusted by his ancestors to carry to them the rules that would be both his inheritance and his legacy. Those nameless faces dressed in Lan white, unborn children with his brother’s face or even his own, of his cousins and fellow disciples alike, all those souls that had yet to enter this world but who he loved so much already – if he could spare them a single iota of pain through his own experience, how could he not do so, and gladly? How could he not do everything he could to give them everything he had received from the rules, that sense of pride of their history, the strength and wisdom that could be passed down no other way? How could that be a burden?

Lan Qiren had never really had the chance to explain any of that to anyone, his tongue too stiff and clumsy to convey what sometimes he felt could only be expressed in song or poetry, and he did not have such a chance now: as usual, the other disciples were already laughing, dismissing him as a teacher’s pet, overly rule-bound, obsessed with homework and test-taking, a boring old fart whose soul was prematurely aged.

“What’s wrong with being old?” Cangse Sanren asked, her voice flatter than it was before, and the boys in front of her suddenly scrambled to start apologizing so fast that Lan Qiren was left wondering what exactly he’d missed.

“Class is starting soon,” he said instead of asking, though he promised himself he’d ask around later. Surely someone would know. “Everyone should take your seat – no, Cangse Sanren, as I’ve said, that one is mine.”

She grinned unrepentantly at him and stepped back over where he’d kicked his foot out to block her. “You win, this time,” she said, and took the seat next to him with absolutely no remorse for whoever might have been sitting there before. “Watch yourself, stick-in-the-mud.”

Lan Qiren glared, though somehow Cangse Sanren’s teasing didn’t feel as annoying as the other disciples’ usually did. Even if she did make several more attempts on his seat over the course of the day, causing him to have to fend her off or think ahead to evade her latest attempt.

He initially thought that she might try to come to class early the next day to try to claim it before he did, but instead she dragged herself in only moments before class was due to start, face haggard as if waking up at the very tail end of mao hour was the equivalent to rising at yin, although she was back to her regular form soon enough, bright and clever enough to make any teacher fond of her.

This became something of a pattern, in fact – sluggish wakening, intellectual jousting during class and an unspoken competition over the seat that had formerly been reserved for him outside of it. In the afternoons she usually went off with the more martially minded disciples, while he spent his time in the library or musical halls, though at some point she started dropping off random foodstuffs by his door in the early evening as if she thought he was too thin.

“Maybe she has a crush on you!” Lan Yueheng said enthusiastically; bizarrely enough, he seemed to like romance as much as his explosions or his math.

“I think it’s a little closer to treating me like a stray cat that she found and took a shine to,” Lan Qiren said, shaking his head. All the boys in the sect would have paid in gold and jewels for Cangse Sanren to give them a second look, and she didn’t care one whit for the best of them; there was no need for her to go courting when she could get three serious offers of marriage just by winking. “Give them here, I’ll redistribute them to the younger children.”

“You can’t do that!” Lan Yueheng looked offended. “It’s her sincere offering! From the heart!”

“It’s food she purchased in town,” Lan Qiren said doubtfully. “It’s not as if she baked them herself. Anyway, I can’t eat this many sweets without getting a stomachache. What else am I supposed to do with it? Let it rot?”

“Qiren-xiong, you’re the most unromantic person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m going to assume that’s a bad thing,” Lan Qiren said, not taking offense. “Do you want some? Last offer before they’re gone.”

“…well, I mean, if you’re going to give them away anyway…”

He told Cangse Sanren what he was doing the next day, as a matter of politeness in the event that she wanted to stop once she knew what he was doing, and she just laughed – she always laughed at just about everything, he’d found. She didn’t stop delivering food, either, which he might have expected, though she did shift over into items that were easier to distribute.

Their entire mode of interacting was simultaneously very annoying and also not, and Lan Qiren didn’t have the slightest idea about what to do with it.

And then he got his first letter from Wen Ruohan.

#mdzs #lan qiren #cangse sanren #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls #sect leader lan

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13uswntimagines · 3 years

Text

She Might be a Forward, but You’re a Keeper (Emily Sonnett x Reader)

Request: Emily x reader where r doesn’t have the best reputation and is sorta known for being a troublemaker but once Emily comes into the picture everything changes. Livin’ The Dream by Morgan Wallen is what made this pop into head.

Author’s Note: Firstly, Firerfly and i thank the one voter so much for voting for this fic. Secondly this almost didn’t happen because my dumbass deleted from the doc just seconds after we had finished it. Thank you to @literaryhedgehog for saving it.

“You have to do it Sonnett,” Lindsey said sternly, taking a sip of her drink and ignoring Emily’s puppy eyes. She wasn’t going to feel bad about this. It was only fair, since she was the one who got them caught.

“Yeah,” Rose added, crossing her arms. “consider it your punishment for not following through on our prank on Pino.” Meghan had been pissed, and the lecture they had gotten did not seem to fit the crime, especially since they had been stopped. All they wanted to do was start an itsy bitsy prank war. Where was the harm in that?

“Oh come on.” Emily whined, glancing back and forth between the two girls and the woman standing on the other side of the room. “She would have murdered me if I let you put blue dye in her shampoo,” Emily said, her bottom lip trembling.

“And now Y/n might kill you so we’re even,” Lindsey shrugged, fighting a smile. Whatever way this ended, it would be entertaining for her.

Some might think that that it was a gross overstatement, but it wasn’t. You had a reputation. A terrifying history of explosions on the pitch, and a complete lack of approachability off of it. You didn’t give a shit what anyone thought, Alex and Kelley being the only exception, but you had known them forever so it didn’t count.

You didn’t have many friends (contrary to what the public though), but you were viciously loyal to the people you actually let get close to you.

The youngins had been warned that you did whatever (and whoever) you wanted and they should steer clear. You wouldn’t mess with them as long as they didn’t mess with you.

The problem was that the blond defender was smitten from the first moment she saw you this season. When she had first joined the team you had just been another veteran and the excitement of joining the national team had overshadowed everything else. But then you transferred to Washington during Club season and she started noticing you everywhere. Partially because you were everywhere- weaving around the field and her vision, at team events and now here at camp, and… she might have been caughts staring once or twice. Maybe Emily had tripped over her own feet a few times because she accidentally got distracted by the sight of you pouring water over your head after a hot practice, who's to say. Either way, her two meddling best friends knew about her little crush and had decided to use it as blackmail.

“I hate you guys,” Emily said, downing half her drink for liquid courage.

Lindsey rolled her eyes and shoved the defenders shoulder. “No you don’t,”

“You better get your ass over there before she starts flirting with another girl,” Rose said with a disinterested wave of her hand, motioning towards the dejected Brunette walking away from you. There was a parade of women all night, and it seemed none of them were having any luck.

Your eyes followed the woman as she left, but your face didn’t betray any emotions, appearing completely uncaring to anyone who happened to glance in your direction.

Emily nodded. It was now or never she supposed.

*****

You took an uninterested sip of you beer, swirling your finger around the glass when you set it back down on the bar. You had never exactly found team bar nights fun. It felt like thousands of people would come up and talk to you (and call you by name) and expect you to instantly be their friend.

You didn’t need anymore friends.

You took another sip of your flat beer, making a mental note to chastise Alex later for her terrible bar choice, and stared listlessly at the football (American style) game on the tv.

“Hey, wanna hear a joke about paper?” You turned slowly to look at the speaker. You squinted at the blond defender, tilting your head to the side, not letting your surprise that a youngin actually had the balls to talk to you off the pitch show on your face.

She scratched the back of her head grinning impishly at you. “Never mind, it’s tearable.”

You raised your eyebrow at the woman, you lips ticking up slightly at her adorable fidgeting.

That seemed to give her confidence, as she set her drink down and slid into the unaccompanied stool next to you.

“Why didn’t the vampire attack Taylor Swift? She had bad blood.”

You suppressed your snort at the terrible joke, hiding it behind a sip of your bad beer.

“It’s more fun if you actually let me respond before you hit me with the punchline,” You smirked, thoroughly entertained by the pink starting to bloom on the defenders cheeks.

“Oh, my bad.” Emily said, making an embarrassed face. “Sorry, I often tell dad jokes- most of the time he laughs!’

This time you did snort, the smile you were holding back finally cracking across your lips.

“Just most of the time? Sounds to me like you need to get a better one,”

“Is that a challenge I hear?” Emily said, a wicked gleam in her eye. A terrible joke competition was right up her alley.

“Not at all. I could never compete with someone with your… particular skill set. You should be a magician because you just make girls disappear,” You wiggled your fingers, mimicking a magical motion.

“Ouch,” Emily said, holding back giggles.

“You could let me ice that burn as consolation,” You shrugged, also holding in a giggle.

“Nah, I just need to wait a little for it to warm back up. You know what the hottest time of day is?”

“No, what?”

“Two- flirty!”

You cackled loudly, nearly throwing your head back.

****

“Is the Ice Queen actually smiling?” Kelley asked, sliding into the booth beside Alex, passing a disgustingly fruity drink to her girlfriend.

“It appears so,” Alex nodded, pushing the stupid mini unbrella out of her way to take a sip.

Her eyes followed your laughing form, taking in how your eyes lit up, and the way you leaned closer to the blond defender. It wasn’t your typically cocky posture when you talked to girls, you seemed much more unguarded.

“Who knew Junior had it in her. I never thought she’d work up the courage,” Kelley smirked over the edge of her drink. Emily’s crush on you wasn’t a secret (to the two of them at least), but they never dreamed Emily would actually make a move.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Y/n look at anyone like that.” Alex started thoughtfully. “Well maybe-”

“We don’t speak her name Alex,” Kelley interrupted with a glare. They didn’t talk about your previous relationship. It had nearly ruined you completely.

Rose and Lindsey joined Alex and Kelley where they were standing, all four trying to hide the fact that they were staring at you and Emily together.

“You enjoying the show too?” Rose said, shaking her head slightly as she watched. What the heck could you two be talking about? For a few seconds she saw you talk animatedly then - in unison with Emily - double over in laughter.

“You know something about this that we don’t?” Alex asked, glancing at the two younger players.

Rose and Lindsey exchanged a look. “Sonnett’s only over there because we made her,” Lindey said.

“How?”

“Told her we’d rat her out to Vlatko for the snack incident last camp,” Rose shrugged. Revenge was best served with blackmail.

“I didn’t know she had a soft side,” Lindsey said after a few minutes.

“Only a few people actually get to see it,” Kelley shrugged. You were guarded but not heartless. It just took a special touch to break that cast iron shell.

****

“Okay, okay. So I know a guy who's great at soccer but is super untidy.”

“You do?” You asked, biting your lip. You weren’t sure why you were suddenly nervous.

“Yeah, he’s just a Messi guy!” Emily said, already laughing on the last word.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I think these are just getting worse,”

“Oh come on, you were the one who told the one about a frog liking hoppy beer,” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “I think that one was objectively worse.”

“Whatever you say cutie pie,” you said, leaning forward on your hand. You weren’t usually this interested in conversation. You were more of an… in and out kinda girl. But there was something about Emily that intrigued you. That pulled you in and made you want to know more about her than just her bedroom preferences.

“Pie sounds so good right now,” Emily said sighing deeply. “I don’t even have a joke to go with that, I just like pie. Although I think I read one at some point for Pi day, I could google it…”

“I don’t know any jokes either, but I do know a place pretty close to here if you wanted to ditch these losers,” You offered, picking idly at your napkin.

“Losers? I didn’t know the men’s team was here!” Emily smirked. You didn’t know if she was blowing you off, or just completely missed what you were implying.

“See that one was actually a good one. Those idiots wouldn’t know how to score if they were shooting at the broadside of a barn,” You shook your head. Half of the women’s team midfield had better finishing stats than all the men’s forwards. They were terrible.

“Oh come on. They’re not that bad. At least 9% of them are keepers,” Emily laughed. “Well that’s their position anyway. But yes, I would love to go get some pie with you. Just don’t tell Dawn I broke my diet.”

“No promises Princess,” You said standing, and holding out your hand to the woman. You kissed the back of her hand when she laced her fingers with yours, earning yourself another giggle.

It made your heart flutter, and you just wanted more.

“You sure you’re okay missing the end of the party?” Emily said hopefully, scanning as if to make sure no one would waylay you on your way out the door. The last thing she wanted was to get stopped by one of your parade of brunettes.

“Better than okay. The word happiness might start with an H, but mine starts with U.”

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #emily sonnett imagine #emily sonnett x reader #literalhedgehog

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funtimebunnyblog · 3 years

Text

Pillarroomates (Chapter 2: Strange introductions...)

(Summary: It's time to meet your new Roommates and things are already off to a shaky start...)

"--and you mentioned you're a student aside from your work?"

Smiling, you nodded as the violet-haired man before you scribbled away on the neat lined paper laid out in front of him.

"Yeah. It's mostly online stuff but I do occasionally go for in person lectures when I get the time." You began, making Kars hum quietly to himself as you went into more detail.

This was honestly starting to feel like more of a job interview (or perhaps more of a Police interogation) rather than a simple interaction concerning becoming a roommate with hopes of living here.

Even though you had only spoken with him for a short time now, you could tell this "Kars" (or so he had introduced himself as) was all business.

The giant of a man was asking you all sorts of questions, jumping back and forth between ones boarderline ubsurd and ones you had expected.

He asked a little about your history and about your Family (most specifically your surname and any distant relations you might have). He questioned you on your work and what you did, your wages and your work ethic. He wanted to know every single one of your habits (annoying or not) and how you spent your free time; jotting things down as he went.

Every single time his eyes fell on you, you couldn't help but feel exposed under his gaze; like you were sitting completely naked before him on an operating table, cut open, and he was taking you apart piece by piece and examining every inch with a scrutinizing eye.

Speaking of eyes, you definitely didn't miss how inhuman his were. Maroon on crimson, like thick droplets of blood splattered onto the white of a fine ivory knife and cutting you just as deeply as one.

It was like nothing you had ever seen or felt before.

You told him the truth and nothing but during the entirety of the seemingly endless line of questioning but it still felt like it was all a spew of dirty little lies falling from your lips. It only made an icky swirl of anxiety churn consistently in your stomach, like the spinning of a washing machine, as you sat there talking away.

There was no telling how you would feel if you did tell a lie or if he happened to indeed smell one lingering on your breath; which you were also struggling to keep in check.

"Interesting..." he muttered quietly, more to himself than to you. The scratching of his pen on paper filled the long silence at the round little wooden table.

Your eyes fell to his handwriting a number of times in hopes of catching a glimpse of something that would indicate whether you were "passing" this little test or not but it was inevitable.

You were beginning to wonder where exactly this man was from as the entirety of his notes were in a language you couldn't identify at all.

Even if it was written in proper English, you doubted you'd be able to read it at all either. His handwriting was something akin to what you'd find on an ancient scroll being presented late at night on the History Channel; small and scratchy letters scrawled across white in quick flicks of the wrist.

As if things couldn't feel anymore stressful, you could also feel the eyes of two others burning into you.

The one whom you had an encounter at the door with, Kars informed you that his name was "Esidisi" after the man had retreated down the hall again, was now standing in the far corner of the little kitchen.

There he loitered, a piece of pizza cradled in each hand (was that.... macaroni on top???) and munching away as if he hadn't seen so much as a morsel of food in months.

Much to everyones relief, the man had put some clothes on by the time he ran to answer the door for the 2nd time that day; his long awaited pizza finally having arrived.

At the very least he had saved the poor delivery boy from becoming as startled as you had.

You didn't even want to think of how different things would've gone if his towel had somehow slipped...

The burning intensity of Kars' glare (despite the fact it wasn't even aimed remotely in your direction) made you squirm in your seat as Esidisi came onto the interview scene with the pizza box in hand, a sunny smile stretched across on his face and the words "HOT DAD ALERT" emblazoned in bold white letters on his t-shirt.

Esidisi wasn't even so much as fazed by the look like you were. The man only smiling all the brighter, cheeks stuffed uncannily like a chipmunk storing food, each time he met Kars' sharp gaze.

Then there was the other one, the blonde with the mullet-like haircut and the stained apron. While he was doing his best to busy himself by cleaning around the stove, you managed to overhear Esidisi addressing him as "Wamuu" when offering a slice of the boxed Italian monstrosity he was savoring; which the other kindly declined.

Even through your talking, you didn't miss the fact that Wamuu had wiped down the kitchen surfaces at least 3 times during your little chat with Kars; he hadn't even moved an inch from his spot. You had managed to catch his gaze once or twice as he was sneaking a few little glances over his shoulder.

Much like Esidisi was doing (but with a lot more inconspicuous action) Wamuu was eavesdroping on the interview.

However, you also couldn't help but feel that he was was also standing guard. The man was keeping a close eye on the scene, reminding you of a bulldog protecting its Home from intruders while its master was away.

"And, uh... that's about it, I guess." You finished, a tight smile flashing across your face as you shrugged helplessly.

Kars pursed his lips, eyes skimming over his papers. For a long moment, perhaps the longest moment you'd ever had to endure, he was silent.

"Acceptable." He hummed, not exactly much emotion carried in that word, papers rattling as they were shuffled in his hands. "Perhaps the most acceptable I've seen in some time. You definitely fit our criteria."

You could only blink, unsure if you should even thank him for saying something like that.

"Uhh, I take it you've had your fair share of annoying roommates?" You asked, laughing a little, only making the man across from you hum again.

"Oh, you bet we have," Esidisi cut Kars off just as he opened his mouth to speak, wiping his hands with a paper towel as he waved the other off. "You wouldn't believe it! The last one we had was a real idiot. Lazy too, couldn't hold a job to save his life, he left the kitchen a mess every time he walked though it."

Hearing that, you could at least nod understandingly.

You definitely sympathized with them on that one, you had met your fair share of people when jumping from place to place who outright refused to pull their weight.

One of the main reasons you had been looking for a place to start with was because of one of those same types of people, afterall.

You had been happy living in an apartment closer to the edge of town for some time. Your earlier roommates had been nice, kind of fun too, and you had hopes things would stay that way at least until you finished school.

Everything had been just fine until the first one chose to move cities, then things only went downhill from there. Along came your other roommates boyfriend (better known as; the laziest, most childish piece of shit you ever had the displeasure of knowing) and after almost a year of just barely tolerating that shitshow you had decided enough was enough.

It was overdue for you to find another place to live.

Esidisi laughed as he went on, leaning on Kars' chair. "He really had it coming to him when we--"

THUNK! The table rattled, making you jump in your own chair. Esidisi's lips came tight together, a long breath sucked hard enough through his nose that the little gold ring dangling precariously on the ridge of his nostril shivered.

Kars acted as if you didn't know that he had just kicked the other under the table, clearing his throat.

"When that one was evicted," here Kars shot Esidisi another one of those looks, which the other actually paid attention to this time around. "It was unanimous that was the final straw, so we agreed to put some proper ground rules out there before allowing anyone else to even think about inquiring to live here."

Your head tilted, unable to hold back a chuckle as you pulled out the print out of their half-garbled "guidelines" you had kept for them to see.

"I'll be honest, at first I was sure this wasn't a real ad..."

Here, both Esidisi and Kars shared a pointed look, you had a feeling there was something more to the story there.

Kars' eyes fell on you again after a beat, thankfully his expression much more neutral.

"I'll ask you," he began. "Do you want to live here?"

"Well..." you honestly couldn't help but laugh a little. Even if things seemed a little worse here you probably wouldn't find yourself refusing, you NEEDED a place and you needed to jump on this before the opportunity was gone again. "Yeah."

"As you said, dear Kars, they fit all the criteria." Esidisi's voice dropped into a teasing little purr, you suddenly felt that heat you felt at the front door blooming in your face once again when the man tossed a wink and a smile your way. "They're cute too, just what I asked for at the very least."

Cute? You nearly sputtered out the word, lips tightening together as you had no choice but look away from the man and his cheeky little grin.

You sat there struggling to force down the memory of him in only his bathtowel again, face feeling hot enough to rival the sun.

Kars let in a deep breath, ignoring the way the other was shaking him in his chair, the sight of an actual smile working his way across his face brought you a little closer to reality again.

"In that case," here he stood, holding his hand out for you to shake. "Welcome to our Home."

A smile of your own spread across your face as you grasped his hand, cold and calloused and FAR bigger than your own, suddenly feeling as if a great weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

"I'm glad to be welcomed." You sighed, beaming up at Kars. Now he didn't seem so very intimidating (well, at least a little) when he was looking a tad more relaxed around you. "I don't have much stuff so getting it from the shelter to here won't be a stretch. I'll probably have it all moved by tomorrow."

Here, you were treated with the sight of not only Kars and Esidisi but Wamuu as well, still lingering by the stove, staring at you in surprise.

Here, Wamuu spoke up for the first time during this entire interview, "You... were living at a shelter?"

All you could do was shrug, feeling s little helpless. "Well, yes... I was." You sighed again as that heaviness on your back suddenly returned at their staring, a hand going up to rub the back of your neck. "Not the best place to stay, I know, but I've been looking around for a place for a quite a while."

It was better than sleeping on the street that was for sure. At least there you could shower and rest and get ready for work; really the only fears you had staying there was someone stealing something important of yours.

Not to mention, it was much more preferable than having to go back to--

The top of your head tickled as a warm and quick puff of air suddenly reached out and touched you, like a hand lovingly caressing your hair. Though the feeling was miniscule it made you suddenly stand on edge.

A beat passed before the very same thing happened again, just as fleeting as the first time. A strange itch crawled up your spine as the unmistakable heat radiating off another body sank slowly through your back, though its source not touching you directly.

Someone was behind you.

Slowly, though with much hesitantance, your head turned. You eyes were wide open as your neck rotated, the action best described as owlish, blinking at the words "seether" emblazoned across a barreled chest, only urging your eyes to seek more upwards.

Your eyes locked onto icy cold rings of blue, an unconcious shiver dancing through your body as the chill of them seeped deep within your body.

There, now right before you, was another man. It was best to assume this was your last supposed roomate as he was just as big and as muscular as the rest.

However, you couldn't shake the feeling that this one was strangely... different than the others.

A hot puff of air brushed the space between your eyes as the stranger breathed out quietly, the action only making you blink hard. He said nothing, he made no indication at all to say anything, he only... stared.

"Umm..." your mouth opened but the jumble of words sitting like a lump in your throat couldn't find your mouth.

"Y/N, this is... Santana." Kars piped up from behind, sounding more than tempted to sigh again today. "He is the 4th and last of us here."

Call it intuition but from what you could tell already, this Santana wasn't the chummiest one of the bunch. Tall and still, skin as fair as snow, almost every square inch of him was chiseled and, well, square.

That stoney expression of his didn't exactly give you an insight as to what was going on in the others head either.

Something told you you'd have to make the first move or else all this staring would get you nowhere.

A hesitant smile squirmed its way across your face, every effort you had inside to be polite straining to the point of almost breaking.

"Hi Santana," your voice nearly cracked. "It's-- nice to meet you...?"

Santana continued to stare at you as if he hadn't even heard you speak at all. A cold sweat prickled on the nape of your neck, you struggled to fight back a cough as the room fell into a dead silence again.

You were starting to wish you were back in the hallway where you had started...

"Santana," Esidisi spoke up next. "come on. Like we practiced..."

Santana exhaled again, the sound more like the huff of a disgruntled pasture bull.

A thick bubble of uncertainty ballooned in your throat as the red-heads arm extended, sticking out quite stiffly in your direction. A long moment passed, you blinking stupidly, before you realized what he was trying to do.

Your watery smile returned with much more force, reaching out to grasp his offered hand. Your fingers could just barely wrap around his ice cold palm.

Another beat. Nothing happened for another uncomfortable little eternity.

Across the room Kars cleared his throat, loudly. Another prompt.

That bubble of uncertainty in your throat dropped like a stone down into the pit of your stomach as his arm moved up and down, up and down, up and down. The movement was just as cold and robotic as his stare.

He didn't even wrap his fingers around your hand, keeping them as straight and pointed as dense meaty rulers.

You honestly half-expected to hear a feint squeaking come from his shoulder at the slight and stiff movement.

"Do not forget to smile..." It was Wamuu who whispered loudly to the other from across the room; as if that would keep you from hearing the plea.

Your own forced smile threatened to dissolve completely for good as you watched Santana's lips twitch, slowly peeling back to reveal two rows of white teeth.

Teeth of your own sank into the flesh your tongue as the glimmer of 4 very sharp K-9's hit your eye, making Santana's painfully cheered grimace all the more chilling.

Up and down, up and down, up and down.

"Nice... to... meet you..." Santana's voice was deep and gruff, the very tone of it shook your insides like an Earthquake.

Maybe it was just his voice, maybe he didn't mean to sound so very rough; the thought definitely crossed your mind. Though, you couldn't be quite sure about that by the way this interaction was going...

"Uhh, the--... the pleasures all mine..." Really, what else could you say?

The very second you let go, Santana's arm retreated back to his side, his face falling back into that stoney hard glare. And just like that, he pushed past you, marching quickly towards the fridge; a word was grumbled, too low for you to hear, but it was something about you.

It was more than clear to you and everyone else that he decided this horrible too-long-of-a-greeting was over.

The fridge door was yanked open, the movement harsh enough the bottles inside chattered. All of you watched as Santana made a grab for a container of lettuce, slamming the fridge shut and striding right out of the kitchen without so much as another grunt, let alone a glance, in your direction.

A breath you didn't even know you had been holding let go, a strange sense of relief washing over you like a warm tidal wave.

Talk about awkward. So awkward you almost wanted to shudder.

What the Hell was his problem?

You nearly jumped when a huge, warm hand clapped you on the shoulder, blinking up into the smiling face of Esidisi.

"He'll warm up to you," The man said, shrugging. "Santana doesn't care much for new people or, well, people in general I suppose. It's just the way he is..."

"We're trying to acquaint him with the concept of socializing and get him used to social norms of this time," Kars practically groaned, pinching the space between his eyes. "As you can see, it's still a work in progress..."

"It probably doesn't help that the last guy living here was the one to seriously piss him off in the end." Esidisi only shrugged again.

You, on the other hand, flinched hearing that. Like it or not, their last roomate had obviously left a lasting impression of newer people on him.

You wouldn't be surprised if Santana thought that you would be the very same thing judging by what you had been told about the last guy and the last thing you wanted was this near-to-stranger having some sort of hard feelings on you when you hadn't even so much as moved in yet.

"Would you like to see your room before you go?" You were most thankful that Kars spoke up again.

"Ah-- yeah." You said, blinking. "That'd be great."

"Wonderful, Wamuu will show you where it is." The kitchen chair creaked as Kars pushed himself in closer to the table, settling back into his comfortable working slouch as he pulled his laptop out again.

He still had work to get done afterall.

Your eyes drifted across the room, meeting the more stern gaze of the blonde, making you realize that Santana wasn't exactly the only one in the house you couldn't quite read just yet.

Nonetheless, the man made no move at all to argue with Kars for being volunteered like so.

Wamuu peeled off his stained apron with a huff, hanging it neatly on the wall.

"This way," a huge hand waved you along, Wamuu's back already to you as he was heading out of the kitchen.

You fumbled for a moment, head turning not-unlike a pet budgie, choosing to wave to Esidisi (Kars was already too focused on whatever he was working away at) before moving to catch up with Wamuu.

Something told you that he wouldn't exactly appreciate having to wait up for you.

This day was far from over yet but at least the hardest part of it was....

Wasn't it?

#funnybunny #pillarmen #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #my writing #pillarroomies

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dogbearinggifts · 4 years

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What are your thoughts on tua S2? Did you feel like the characters grew? What did you like? What did you not? I’m interested in your perspective. Your analysis are super thoughtful and interesting!

Aw, thanks, Anon!

Overall, I really enjoyed S2 and thought it was a solid follow-up to S1. I do have my quibbles about it, so I think (for ease of reference and because my thoughts are a little scattered today) I’ll list some of my personal highlights (in no particular order) before getting into what I didn’t like as much.

Big spoilers ahead.

Allison. I thought they handled her storyline especially well. Of all the siblings, I think she had the most difficult obstacles placed in her way (not only is she a Black woman landing in 1961 Dallas, but she’s a Black woman landing in 1961 Dallas who can’t even speak in her own defense for a year) and they sugarcoated exactly none of it. The writers pulled no punches when showing what civil rights protesters went through, which just made their nonviolent response all the more breathtaking. Allison’s fear and anger during those scenes were palpable even as she kept them hidden. But along with that horror, we see the kindness and warmth of the Dallas Black community, the women who take her in simply because she needs their help, and her love for Ray, perhaps heretofore THE most thoughtful husband ever portrayed on screen. I loved him, and I loved him and Allison together. While I understand and respect his choice to stay in 1963, I wish they’d gotten more time together. They both deserved it.

Vanya. We got to see how much the baggage from her past affected her by glimpsing what she might be like if it were taken away. It’s an interesting philosophical question, and it was explored well, in my opinion. She finds it easier to love and be loved, and she stands up for herself more readily—but she also doesn’t hesitate to use powers she can’t quite control and threatens Five without fully realizing how dire her threat is (or how it might dredge up traumatic memories she doesn’t know exist). The moment where Ben finds her curled up, fully convinced she’s a monster, was heartbreaking. I loved watching her find happiness with Sissy, even if that was fleeting (and dear god, Sissy deserved her happy ending with Vanya, dammit, I don’t care if it would fuck up the timeline). Her patience and sweetness with Harlan were just beautiful. And the way she used the confidence she gained during her amnesia to fully come into her own not to exact revenge on her siblings, but to save them, was fucking phenomenal.

The humor. There was a lot more humor this season, and it was awesome. So many iconic scenes—Olga Foroga, Luther babysitting two homicidal Fives, Elliot awkwardly lecturing his guests on the history of Jello, “NEW TIMELINE NEW ME,” “Your vagina needs glasses,” AJ the fish gobbling up the cigarette bubbles, Five getting to say “fuck”….this season was a lot funnier than the previous one, and I think that was one of its strengths.

Klaus’ cult. It was played for laughs, which I both expected and thought was the best way to handle it. He didn’t want to start a new religion with himself at the center; he just wanted to not get thrown out of any more diners, but Destiny’s Children had other ideas. The “I too am a fraud!” scene was hilarious and tickled the question of whether or not a religion founded on false pretenses can still help those within it find meaning.

Luther. Getting him away from his dad, his siblings, and the Academy was exactly what he needed to become the pure of heart and dumb of ass genius we always knew he was, but his first major step in that direction was heartbreaking. We all knew he’d be rejected once he got to the Academy. We all knew Reginald would rip his heart out and stomp on it in his admittedly fashionable shoes. It gets Luther out on his own and forces him to become his own person apart from his dad, but that doesn’t make it any easier to watch. He got the positive character development he needed, but the catalyst was tragic.

Diego. We see, for the first time, exactly how Reginald kept him in line—not with meds or with PTSD-inducing torture, but with words. Even when he knows Diego as little more than a stranger, Reginald is able to rip off his skin and fling it in his face with a single diatribe; and even at 30, with years away from his dad, Diego is left unable to speak, feeling as if all of his accomplishments up to that point were the work of a dumb kid who thought he was smarter and more capable than he actually was.

Luther and Diego sharing a braincell. Luther has bad ideas. Diego has bad ideas. When they put their bad ideas together, they get terrible ideas. I loved watching them work together as a team, rather than being at each others’ throats for most of the season, even if I’m left hoping Olga Foroga had a pleasant and quiet day after that phone call.

Reginald. At first glance, it may look like the writers were trying to make him likable so they could parade him around as your average abusive-parent-with-a-soft-side. But it’s more nuanced than that. Abusive parents (and abusers in general) often fly under the radar because they fool outsiders into thinking they’re good people. They’re active in their communities. They give to charity. They have friends who attest to their virtue, significant others who think they’re the greatest. And that’s what we see with Reginald. We see him as the rest of the world did: an intelligent, eccentric man with a sharp sense of humor who cared deeply about scientific advancement. That’s how he evaded suspicion—because there were stories from years past of lively parties at his mansion, of what a gentleman he was to Grace and of how he did everything he could to save little Pogo. But those stories would all have come from people he considered his equals. When he’s with people he considers his inferiors—aka, the Umbrella kids—he’s openly condescending and demeaning. We get to see how he fooled the world, and it is chilling.

Elliot. He deserved better, and you can ship him with any one of the Hargreeves kids and get the cutest thing ever.

The Swedes. They said so much while speaking very little.

Ben. He got more personality and screen time, and it was glorious. His love of his family and resentment toward Klaus practically leapt off the screen. The way he says “I’ve missed you all…so much” once they’ve all left was one of those right-in-the-feels moments; and watching him get so much of what he’s wanted for years when he possesses Klaus was beautiful.

Now, as for things I took issue with….

Ben. I understand why they ended his arc the way they did. I get that they were probably afraid the Klaus/Ben dynamic would grow stale if they didn’t change it somehow and wanted to give him a larger role in S3. His death(???) was heartbreaking and extremely well-done. But it also wasn’t foreshadowed. We never got any sense of what ghosts in the TUA ‘verse are, so the fact they can be destroyed by a ton of sound-turned-energy or by going too far into someone’s psyche or whatever happened….it’s not that it doesn’t make sense so much as there’s not enough evidence to determine whether or not it makes sense. It feels like the writers just kinda made that up so they’d have a reason to change Ben’s relationship dynamics, but if that’s the case, couldn’t they have done it another way? Couldn’t they have made it so the immense energy or psychic woo-woo or whatever gave him a power-up instead of destroying him? Vanya transferred some of her energy into Harlan and brought him back to life. Couldn’t something similar have happened with Ben? And if it tied him to Vanya as well as to Klaus, great! More fodder for angst and humor! (”Vannyyyyyyyy, stop hogging Ben!” “You got him for 17 years, Klaus, you can part with him for 20 minutes.” “Guys, don’t I get a say in this?”) I’m glad they didn’t write him out of the series entirely, but I still wish they’d kept him and all the character development he’d gotten throughout S2.

Episode 10. It looks like they tried to cram half a season’s worth of developments into 45 minutes. Twenty minutes in, I’d already said “Wait what the fuck” half a dozen times. A lot of those moments were explained later on, and I was able to make enough inferences to fill in any lingering plot holes, but…still. Too much stuff, too little time. E9 was a perfectly satisfying ending to the season. Yes, it leaves the siblings stranded in 1963, but they could’ve tied up those loose ends in the S3 premiere.

Lila. She’s an incredibly fun character, but her arc is kind of a mess. Most of that is due to E10, and I do feel that more time to let her arc breathe would’ve worked wonders, but I’m left feeling like her turn from “Handler is the best mom ever and I lurve Diego too” to “KILL DIEGO AND HIS EVIL FAMILY” to “Handler is a bad mom and Diego is right” happened too quickly.

The Commission. Okay, so, the Handler announces the entire Board has been killed, and she’s stepping in as director even though everyone appears to know she’s been demoted (and demoted pretty severely—she went from having an office bigger than some apartments to being a case management drone). There’s suspicion and lots of it. But then, La Resistance is….ten or so people in a single room? And when she calls the temps agents to her side, thousands of them show up ready and willing to fight and die? I dunno. Just seems like there should’ve been more splintering going on there. Again, I think they needed more time to tie everything up.

Aside from those complaints, I loved the season. I set aside most of a day to binge it, and I do not regret that decision at all.

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sixth-light · 3 years

Text

for everybody who was asking about Nicky’s PoV in Explaining Is Losing (set during the fourth chapter):

The first time Joe said “I love you,” to Nicky, Nicky knew he wasn’t really thinking about it. It was two weeks after Nicky had moved into his flat. Joe was on his way out the door to an early meeting he hadn’t been able to reschedule (Nicky had learned over the last few months that he was not an early riser) and he’d poked his head back in to ask, hastily, “Did we decide what we were doing about dinner?”

“I’ve got it, don’t worry,” Nicky said absently; he was sitting on the couch and reading a journal article, which was something he preferred to do at home, where – until recently – he could be guaranteed a lack of interruptions. “You’re cooking tomorrow, though.”

“You’re amazing, I love you, I have to run,” Joe said, and slammed the door. Nicky sat there frozen for five minutes, waiting for Joe to reappear. He didn’t.

If anybody had asked Nicky, which they had not, because Nicky had gone to quite extraordinary lengths to make sure nobody would – if anybody had asked Nicky how long he’d been in love with Joe, he wouldn’t have been able to tell them. It had, perhaps, been the day when Joe had come back to his office and dragged him back into the storage closet and got down on his knees and said I don’t like leaving things uneven, and Nicky had nearly spontaneously combusted on the spot. Or, no, that hadn’t been love. It had been nuclear-blast levels of lust, but not love. But certainly it had been there, in some degree, by the time Nicky had invited Joe over for dinner and Joe – instead of laughing, or awkwardly leaving – had sat down and eaten dinner and it had been…nice.

Nicky genuinely hadn’t really, really, been expecting that. His rivalry with Joe had been maintained largely because pride was his overwhelming sin (as his confessor knew all too well), and his personality included a level of sheer ingrained pettiness that had prevented him apologising to Joe even though it was deserved and, actually, was compounding the offense the longer he didn’t. There was also a kind of mean pleasure in it; Joe was fun to spar with, smart and witty and willing to be dragged down to Nicky’s level.

The fact that Joe was far and away the most attractive person Nicky had met in his life (and kind, and generous, and pleasant…to people who weren’t Nicky) had only somehow made it worse. After the incident – incidents – in the storage closet, Nicky had kept pushing because he knew that at some point, Joe would reject him, and then he could comfortably hate him for a reason that wasn’t entirely and unquestionably Nicky’s fault. That would be its own kind of terrible compensation.

Except he hadn’t, and he hadn’t, and Nicky had woken up the morning after that dinner with Joe wrapped around him, in Nicky’s very terrible and barely big enough bed, and known that he was in love and had no idea what to do about it. And now they were living together and he still had no idea what to do about it. Not because he thought Joe didn’t care about him; Joe just didn’t have the personality to use somebody like that. But because they had spent all this time not saying anything important to each other and Nicky didn’t know where to start. The very first thing he’d ever done with Joe was blow him in a storage closet on the very thin excuse of having lost a bet that Joe hadn’t even agreed to. He couldn’t just come out and declare his love now. Their affection for each other had always lived in the silences.

He gave up on reading the article because it wasn’t going to happen, and went to work, where he taught distractedly through two lectures, then sat through a committee meeting and contributed precisely nothing. This was still more useful than the very annoying (and badly-dressed) Vice-Chancellor who’d come to speak to them. At least he and Joe could be united in hating the administration (to be strictly separated from the administrative staff, who were the glue holding their departments together).

His oldest brother Franco called him at three o’clock. Franco felt the need to maintain a sort of patriarchal role in the family, which was funny because Nicky’s father was unfortunately still alive (he had been fifty when Nicky was born; he wasn’t young) and Franco was the only child who was still speaking to him. Giovanna hated their father because of his views on what women should do, Bernadetta was in the irredeemably queer basket with Nicky, and Marco had just enough family feeling to side with the majority of his siblings. Nicky tolerated Franco keeping up the tie because he knew it did come from a place of Franco caring for all of them, but knowing that anything and everything he said would eventually make it back to their father tended to temper how much he shared.

Franco told him all about what his children were doing before wanting to know what was new in Nicky’s life. Nicky did care about that, at least a little, as Giulia and Francesco were close to his own age and he had more or less grown up with them, but then on the other hand he also knew it all already because of Facebook.

“I moved,” Nicky said. “I’ll send you the new address. It’s not very far away, only a couple of streets.”

“Oh, why? Your flat was fine. Dark, but fine.”

Nicky thought about the disapproving curl of Franco’s mouth when Bernadetta had defiantly mentioned she wasn’t the only gay one in the family, more than a decade ago, and the way he never asked if Nicky was seeing anybody, and Joe saying You’re amazing, I love you, and thought: fuck it. “I’ve moved in with someone.”

Franco sounded startled. “Oh! Oh. Someone, like…I know rent in London is very high…”

“Someone I am in a relationship with,” Nicky said, feeling guilty because he didn’t know if that was what Joe would say, but it was true, wasn’t it? It was some kind of relationship. “A man. Since I know you’re wondering.”

“No, no, of course I know –” Franco made a impatient noise. “Don’t be difficult, Nico. Nobody is oppressing you. So tell me about him. How did you meet?”

“We work together. He teaches art history.”

He could hear Franco frowning. “Wasn’t there some art history professor you didn’t get on with –”

“Oh, no, that was someone totally different,” Nicky lied point-blank. “Joe and I have a lot in common.”

“Joe, huh. Is he English?” More frowning. “I suppose that’s not so bad…”

“Dutch,” Nicky said, and waited a beat. “But his family is from Tunisia. He’s Muslim.”

He clenched his left hand around his thumb, but all Franco said was “I would have thought you’d have enough trouble with the Church without that as well.”

“Well, I didn’t pick him out because he wouldn’t be trouble,” Nicky snapped, and had to reel it back. “You’d all like him. He’s one of the nicest people I know.” Joe would be, to Nicky’s family, he knew it. Even Franco, who did not at all deserve it.

“It must be serious, if you’ve moved in with him,” Franco said, thoughtfully. “I know you wouldn’t do that if it wasn’t.”

“I – yes,” Nicky said, and felt like he was baring his soul and lying through his teeth at the exact same time; a very strange feeling. “Yes. Yes, it is.” Another breath. “It’s…it’s been about a year and a half.” At least if you counted from the storage closet; since he wasn’t giving any details, Nicky supposed he could do that.

“You should tell us these things, Nico!” Franco admonished him. “That’s forever! Giovanna got married in less time than that!” Nicky took the lecture quietly and made his excuses to end the call, heart pounding. He wasn’t sure why.

He took a breath, and dialed his mother’s number. He couldn’t let Franco tell her this.

Nicky had to chase Joe out of the kitchen when he got home. “Am I cooking, or not?”

“You’re cooking, and I won’t be in the way,” Joe said at once.

“Yes, you will. Go.”

“Why are you so mean to me?” Joe laughed.

“Because I love you enough to want to feed you something edible, which it won’t be if you keep distracting me. Out,” Nicky said, all in a rush. Joe laughed again and kissed him. He didn’t say anything. Nicky wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not.

Late that night, after they’d turned the lights out, Joe sighed into the back of Nicky’s neck.

“What?” Nicky said.

“This evening,” Joe said. “In the kitchen. Did you say you loved me?”

“Does that sound like something I would say?” Nicky could feel the part of them that took over when they sparred doing the talking, and he hated it; why did he do this to himself? And to Joe.

“No,” Joe said, but gently. “No, of course not.” He kissed the back of Nicky’s neck, and said something Nicky couldn’t understand. It wasn’t even Arabic.

“I don’t know what that means,” Nicky said, wrapped up in Joe, dizzy with it.

“Yes you do,” Joe said, quiet, insistent. Nicky turned over in his arms, so he could lean their foreheads together.

“Yes I do,” he whispered. Joe held his hand in the quiet warm dark, and they breathed.

Nicky hadn’t expected it would be like this, being loved. His whole life was words; their whole dislike of each other had been words; and now, in this moment, he found he didn’t need them at all.

#the old guard #my fanfic #kaysanova #joe x nicky #nicolò di genova #I love these idiots

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