#also since I talk in the tags waaaaay too much:

[finvisual]

tons of back and forth about headcannons with one of my buds lead to this <333 (aka dear chris with a biiiit too much time on her hands sewing her own galadriel cosplay. for uhhhhhh, no reason at all.~)

[rolling-restart]

from Eden - part 2

Pairing: Mark Webber/Oscar Piastri

Tags and Warnings: Age difference, mentor/protégé relationship, trans male character, fluff, Mark is not a pervy old man here, domestic fluff, mild blood, virginity talk, cunnilingus, safe, sane and consensual, moral conflict, mention of transphobia.

Status: Incomplete

Summary: Oscar raises the stakes. 

AS YOU WISH

“No waaaaay!”

They were sitting silently on their phones in the living room. The news of Imola being cancelled couldn’t have come at a better time since either of them felt like leaving their little nest, at least as Mark saw it, and going to face the big scary world. 

“One less race to screw up, nice!”

Mark sighed. He knew there was no way to make Oscar feel better about his current situation. A bad car would affect anyone’s confidence and unavoidably, you would start to feel like the car wasn’t the only thing that is wrong. Mark knew it wasn’t true because he witnessed Oscar’s phenomenon through the years. The kid was capable of much more than he was allowed to show with that shitbox and he could only wish that this didn’t affect his confidence permanently. 

There was no further surprising news as far as Mark knew, so Oscar’s exclamation across the couch startled him.

“What?”

“That’s so embarrassing!”

“What is embarrassing?”

Mark pretended not to be nosy and want to snatch Oscar’s phone from his hand to see what was that fuss about. He would, realistically, never do that and appearing too curious always spoilt Oscar, ruining Mark’s chances to reveal what was going on. So he tried to be nonchalant. 

“God, he is desperate!”

“Oscar…”

“Logan just sent me a dick pic.”

Mark was stunned but he was quick to collect himself and correct his expression. This was fine. They were just kids fooling around. There was no reason to burst out. 

“Oh… Did you ask for one?”

Mark silently congratulated himself for not reacting in an embarrassing way. If he overreacted and got angry, Oscar would be taken aback. The reason why Oscar shared a piece of such information with him was because he trusted Mark to react reasonably and maybe also he saw Mark as a friend rather than a cold-hearted adult. If Mark reacted like a worried parent, Oscar would treat him like a worried parent and not let him into his private life at all. Which would be fine, and appropriate at a surface level. Maybe Mark took their proximity for granted and this wasn’t how things should go between a mentor and a mentee. Either way, it was almost instinctual for him to hide this burning feeling inside him he didn’t dare to name.

“Nupe, he just sorta, sent it.”

“Isn’t it a sort of crime?”

Oscar rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“God, Mark, no. I mean not the most pleasant view but I would hardly classify this a crime. But you know what’s criminal? The audacity!”

Mark didn’t share Oscar’s lighthearted reaction. In his opinion, what Logan did was quite disrespectful and he deserved to be told off. It definitely had nothing to do with Mark’s own feelings. 

“Do you and… uhm… Logan have something going on?”

To his relief, Oscar made a disgusted face.

“Ewww, no. What do you take me for? Fooling around with a trumpie? God no.”

“Huh.”

Mark knew he was about to be caught. His indifference was so fragile, so artificial that it was only a matter of moments before Oscar spotted him.

“Also, it is nice of him to just declare what he has in store. So that I didn’t have to waste my time to just be disappointed by this.”

Mark grimaced at the sudden shock of the phallic image shoved at his face. 

“Oscar, what the fuck. I didn’t want to see it.”

“Me neither, so we can suffer together. Also, he is rather small, should I tell him that? Or should I just answer with ‘Eww.’?

Mark couldn’t help but chuckle. For a shy little guy, Oscar was sure cruel and petty when he wanted to be. 

“I mean, why not? He should’ve known better than sending you unsolicited dick pictures.”

He tried his best, his true best to not pour his annoyance in his voice and he wondered how plausible his nonchalance was.

“Are you annoyed?”

Oscar’s expression could only be described as mischievous and Mark felt like a deer caught in headlights.

“I mean, I don’t like the fact that a stray yankee bothering my driver with inappropriate pictures.”

He was doing fine. It was okay. There was no way that Oscar could hear the motivation of jealousy in his disapproval of the situation. Why was he jealous, anyway? Oscar was a free adult and had the right to exchange inappropriate images with whomever he wanted. Mark had no jurisdiction in that portion of Oscar’s life as long as it didn’t interfere with the other things. He had to act accordingly with his position if he didn’t want to be revealed for his true annoyance. 

Honestly, even though he wasn’t maddened with jealousy, he was quite rattled. He knew Oscar wouldn’t plausibly pursue a punk like Logan while he had to be focused on his performance. Additionally, Logan wasn’t the most appropriate, moral example of the motorsports youth and he remembered instances of his bigotry more than once. Even though Oscar would give him a chance, which he wouldn’t, Logan would blow it by being rude and puritan nature. Oscar was… tough, and he could handle himself but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t too precious to go along with tomfoolery of ungracious boys. The thought of putting Logan into his place in a dark alley of the paddock the next time he saw him which included grabbing him by the nape of his neck like an unruly cat and throwing him into a puddle or something delightfully played in Mark’s mind. 

It wasn’t jealousy. It was definitely not jealousy. You could say it’s protectiveness, believing that no one deserved Oscat but it was a harmful point of view as well. What if Oscar came across something that genuinely made him happy? Would Mark be okay with it then? Was the problem actually Logan being an unworthy candidate? Mark knew the answer. 

All those overly excited kids, would they know how to make Oscar happy? How to make him feel loved, and protected? Would Oscar trust them enough to climb to their bed to cuddle when he needed it with the same exhibit of vulnerability? The mere thought made Mark’s stomach turn. He couldn’t expect Oscar to stay single forever. It wouldn’t be good for his emotional development and in the end, he could start believing that he is not indeed likeable, which would be a disaster. Mark wasn’t a selfish man, he would never let Oscar suffer the consequences of his own feelings. 

“It’s nothing serious. He is just fooling around. But he doesn’t have any chance since he genuinely asked what I have in my pants.”

“He did fucking what?”

“Yeah, it was nothing big. We were both drunk and he was being handsy and he blew it for  himself. You should’ve seen his face when I told him off. He has like, no manners.”

“That little bastard, I’ll kill him.”

“Mark, noooo…”

Oscar reached to Mark’s forearm as if Mark was going to get up to actually beat someone up. Mark loved it. There was a primal satisfaction in… defending someone’s honour like that.

“And he also apologised later.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Maaark, don’t be a grumpy old man.”

Even though there was a genuine concern for Mark’s aggression, Mark could feel that Oscar was somehow enjoying the situation. He was, by no means, a damsel in distress but Mark understood why it was pleasant for him. Mark just needed to keep the dose in control. 

“Is it how the young people do it nowadays? Just shoot a picture of your junk and call it a day?”

Oscar rolled his eyes and removed his hand from Mark’s forearm. The ghost of his fingerprints scorched Mark’s skin. 

“I don’t know. I don’t particularly flirt around. I have a lot of work to do.”

Mark couldn’t stop his eyebrows from raising. He knew the kid was with him almost all the time but the insecure side of his brain was always telling him that he must have been having some fun behind his back. 

“I like that. But don’t miss the offerings of the youth.”

His words were genuine, even though it hurt him to accept them. If there was anything that would hurt Mark more than seeing Oscar with someone, was seeing Oscar unhappy, alone and wasting his youth. This was a pleasant relief from his constant self-blaming. He cared about Oscar’s well-being more than his own peace of mind, which made his intentions, well, somehow genuine.

“Oh yeah, as if I have any time. Besides, maybe I am just waiting for the right guy.”

Mark’s cheeks were burning. The right guy. He had to stop the voice from the back of his head screaming ‘I am the right guy!’. He knew he wasn’t. The age wasn’t right, the occasion wasn’t right. He couldn’t be arrogant enough to believe that he had everything Oscar needed. 

“Huh, then it might be a while. This industry is filled with assholes who don’t think of anyone but themselves.”

He knew it was right. He had his share of disappointments and he was old enough to know that everyone indeed had their own agendas that only have a limited space for someone else’s happiness.  

“Maybe. Maybe there are some actually good guys among them.”

Oh, the ever-trusting youth. 

—---------

Mark was thinking that one disaster was evaded when another loomed heavy on him. He was tidying the living room and adjacent kitchen while Oscar was showering after his workout session. They promised his PT that Mark was going to police Oscar’s physical activity in exchange for leaving them be. It wasn’t a chore. Mark attentively spotted Oscar at the small gym in the basement of his place. 

“Come on, one more set.”

Oscar especially hated the neck exercises and Mark couldn’t blame him for it. It must have been the least favourite exercise of any driver due to the level of discomfort it brought. He pretended not to gaze at his flexing muscles under the strain. Oscar has always been a bit small among his peers. He swore that he was taller than all the other kids before puberty but while the other kids kept growing, Oscar’s height stood still. Puberty blockers also halted his growth a little, stranding the kid at a slightly below-average height. Oscar was totally comfortable with his height and very maturely, focused on his muscle development instead. 

“It’s an advantage, like Yuki, you guys are much lighter than the rest and it gains you at least a couple of tenths because of it.”

Mark never knew whether Oscar was actually comfortable with his figure but he never audibly complained. Despite the puberty blockers, with a lot of hard work, he put on a considerable muscle mass and caught up with the rest. However, his considerably smaller size never ceased to invoke Mark’s protective instinct when Oscar was pushed physically.

Mark was done with the kitchen when Oscar emerged from the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist, dripping water everywhere. Before Mark could protest, He collapsed on the couch, sighing with relaxation. His skin was reddened with the steam of the hot water Oscar insisted on using, despite everyone in his health team’s protests. He was damping the couch and the cushions but Mark decided to just leave him be and tried not to gaze at his glistening chest and exposed thighs.

Oscar seemed unbothered to be almost naked in Mark’s presence and was busy with his phone while Mark fluffed the cushions on the armchair. Despite his best efforts, Mark’s gaze lingered on him.

“What the hell did you do to your legs?”

Mark couldn’t hide the alarm in his voice, startling the poor kid. It wasn’t for nothing, though. Oscar’s calves were smooth, smoother than normal and were spotted with red droplets of blood. 

“Uhh.. Oh.”

Oscar saw the blood too and leaned forward, almost banging heads with Mark.

“Did you try to shave?”

Oscar was trying to wipe the little droplets with his towel, revealing more of his flesh without noticing. Mark kept his gaze fixed on his lower legs and prayed to god.

“Uhh, guess I did.”

“You should be more careful, wait. I’ll get something.”

Mark disappeared into the steamy bathroom, almost slipping to his death with the puddle Oscar had the habit to leave after showering. He found the soothing cream in the bathroom cabinet and returned to the living room.

“Don’t you know how to shave without leaving razor burns? You should be more careful.”

Oscar pulled his legs against his chest despite the risk of revealing himself further. It only exposed more of his thighs, which were also spotted by blood droplets and a red rash. 

“I… ugh… I thought I was being careful.”

Mark shook his head and handed the tube of cream to Oscar. 

“Uhh… Can you please…please put it on? Blood makes me sick.”

The alarm bells were blaring in Mark’s head. Surely Oscar wasn’t doing it on purpose. He, as a matter of fact, knew that seeing blood made Oscar faint from first-hand when he had a bicycle accident last year. The moment he saw the blood on his kneecaps, the poor kid just turned sheet white and went limp. It scared the hell out of Mark at the time, screaming Oscar’s name to bring him back to consciousness. Now, if Mark started searching for a different meaning in the kid's request, he would be misplacing Oscar’s trust and he honestly wouldn’t know how to live with it. 

“Okay, extend your leg.”

His eyes were fixed on Oscar’s left knee to avoid seeing anything he wasn’t meant to see. He kneeled in front of the couch, almost to pray for nothing to go sour about the thing he was about to do. It was all for Oscar, he specifically asked him to do it. He couldn’t deny the kid anything he wanted even if he tried. For now, he just needed to keep himself in control and not touch anything more than he strictly needed to.

Oscar didn’t seem too shy when he extended his leg coquettishly and placed his heel on Mark’s thigh. Without thinking, Mark wrapped a protective hand around Oscar’s delicate ankle. He cursed at himself but Oscar didn’t seem to be fazed. Mark wetted a piece of napkin to first clear the blood droplets with shaky hands. 

“You know,”

His voice was high with the heaviness of the moment. He cleared his throat.

“You know you shouldn’t shave upwards, that’s why you burned your skin.”

“Hmm…”

Oscar’s eyes were fixed on where Mark touched his skin. Mark couldn’t tell apart whether the flush on the kid’s chest was because of the heat of his shower or from something else. Nevertheless, he spread the cream delicately on Oscar’s lower leg, careful to cover all the rash.

“You shouldn’t put moisturiser or oil when it’s like this, just the soothing cream.”

The way Oscar almost purred in response shouldn’t have taken Mark by surprise. His touch must have been nice, delicate and relaxing on the kid's body. Nothing too different from the massage he receives from his physio. The frustrating thought that the physio might have shared his thoughts while helping Oscar relax during recovery made Mark’s blood boil. 

Any other person would be drooling over this opportunity of being this close to a magnificent creature like Oscar. Mark was swallowing thickly to avoid that but it all felt in vain.

“Aaand all done. Try not to sweat too much while it heals.”

Mark wiped his hands on the napkin and sat back on his heels. Oscar was looking directly at him, a mildly amused expression on his face. To Mark’s horror, he parted his legs a bit further, letting the towel shift to expose his upper thighs. While not as bad as his lower legs, they also had some irritation on them.

“Uhm… I shaved a bit further.”

Mark closed his eyes and sighed. That was it. This was the fruit of his journey of self-control, morality, love and gentleness. This must have been the end of the road. This must have been the end of the plausible deniability. Was Oscar aware of what he was doing? His mannerism and that annoying expression on his face said yes but could Mark trust his guidance? Did he know what he was doing?

He remembered his teenage crushes and how safe and entertaining it was to just yearn from afar. Was Oscar aware that stopping the yearning would open the gates of hell, for both of them, to an uncharted land, and nothing would be the same? Did Mark want everything to be the same? Was he that much of a masochist that he would rather watch Oscar with someone else for his own good and claw at the walls in his empty hotel room?

And what would happen if they crossed the line? It wouldn’t change much in the beginning but if Oscar, in the end, got bored of him, how would he survive not being wanted after having the taste of Oscar lingering in his mouth?

Wasn’t he the adult who had to have control of the situation and not let things develop thus far? Was granting Oscar’s every wish worth pushing them both off the edge of an abyss?

But if not me, then who?

But if not now, then when?

He hated to be arrogant but he was almost sure that no man could love and care about Oscar as much as he could. It made the betrayal worse. It was a betrayal of his position of mentor. Oscar didn’t know what he was doing but he just trusted Mark because he had no other choice. Could Mark live with this fact?

I would love and protect him forever, I promise.

The primal side of his mind had never been louder and nothing was easier than just accepting what was presented to him. 

Oscar was an adult. 

He was only 22.

Is he yours?

He was meant to be. But was he giving Oscar any choice in this? Kids were supposed to be stupid and make bad decisions. Was he so long gone in his lack of self-control that he couldn’t stop enforcing this behaviour?

He had to respect Oscar’s decisions, though, and if he decided that he wanted Mark, who would he be to refuse?

He is your responsibility.

And yet they were there. Maybe he should’ve stopped looking at the intimacy he was craving as a desecration, as breaking something precious. He would never do anything to hurt Oscar and his heart would be the safest with Mark.

But what if the only thing the kid wanted was sex? Could Mark live with it without feeling like a disgusting pervert? Could he take only what he is allowed and let him go when it is the time?

He didn’t think so but he had to if that was the case. It was too early to conclude anything. Either way, they couldn’t let anyone know about it, whatever it would be until Oscar got older. Could either of them live with this secrecy? Mark would walk on lava and smile if Oscar asked him to but didn’t Oscar deserve something better? Someone he can show off to the world?

Again, he was just assuming what Oscar thought and felt. He knew the kid enough that he must have thought this thoroughly before acting. If he guided someone for so long and didn’t trust his decisions in the end, what kind of mentor would he be?

Oscar’s breath hitched with urgency. He must have seen the hesitation in Mark’s face and his body started to tremble ever so slightly with anticipation.

“Please, Mark?”

Mark squinted his eyes and then looked at Oscar with a fond smile. 

“Sure thing.”

He squeezed more of the cream onto his palm and proceeded to smear it on Oscar’s firm, pale thighs. He couldn’t help but squeeze his meat gently. In response, Oscar whimpered so sweetly, making his dick jolt in interest. It shouldn’t have been so easy but Mark was beyond blaming his body for the temptation lying in front of him, literally.

Oscar moved his towel a bit further, which was already barely covering anything and Mark fixed his eyes solely on his thigh, carefully applying the cream, maybe even massaging a little. He knew if he just looked, it would be there, Oscar’s offering. But it was too early, too soon and not soon enough.

It was getting difficult for him to work with the towel when he started working on Oscar’s other thigh. Oscar didn’t make any move to move it away this time. Mark knew he was expecting him to do it. Even though his desire was scorching his insides, Oscar didn’t know about it and it was only natural for him to look for a sign of being desired. Mark wished he could just telepathically convey his feelings to Oscar and then immediately changed his mind. It would be too much, overwhelming and even scary for the kid. 

“Can I?”

His voice was too loud in the thickness of the moment. Oscar nodded impatiently. This was it, then, the point of no return. Mark moved the towel away with trembling fingers. 

Here it was, beautiful and dainty like a barely bloomed peony, glistening a little, and also a little bit red and irritated like the rest of Oscar’s lower body. Oscar’s breathing got shallow and it twitched involuntarily, making Mark’s mouth water. So Oscar planned this, even shaved for it. He wasn’t sure whether the razor burns were part of the plan but they were there and there was no return from there. 

“Oh, Oscar…”

It took everything out of Mark to not just faceplant on Oscar’s pussy. It would be so easy, Oscar wanted it too but he had a job at hand. He dutifully ignored the strain in his trousers and started applying the cream on the neglected thigh.

“Mark, please, please…”

“Please what, dear?”

He had to be careful not to tease too much. Now his face was between Oscar’s thigh, he knew there was no going back. He would kill and die to be back there again once he left. He would destroy anyone who wanted to be there instead of him. 

He inhaled the sweet, sweet scent of him. It was a mixture of his shower gel, shaving cream and an intensified version of the sweet smell of Oscar’s skin. He remembered it from cuddling with him, hugging him after a race and now it was so close that Mark couldn’t go anywhere but forward.

“Please touch me there, please…”

Mark smiled gently and proceeded to push his legs a bit more apart, exposing his core. God, he really was beautiful everywhere. He kneaded the meat of his upper thighs gently, making Oscar shudder. His big, tanned hands looked so large, so out of place around Oscar. Without thinking too much over that, Mark planted a kiss on Oscar’s inner thigh. Oscar whined, trying to scoot closer to meet Mark’s face. Acknowledging his impatience, Mark decided not to drag.

First, he planted a tentative kiss on Oscar’s labia, so light that it wouldn’t even cause a beard burn. The poor kid’s skin was irritated enough. Oscar wailed and squeezed his thighs around Mark’s head. Mark had to forcefully spread them apart.

“Hold your legs up, now, love.”

The way Oscar immediately slipped his arms under his knees to hold them up almost made Mark groan. Oscar, his Oscar was already so good, so obedient for him. Oscar’s blush got deeper. Mark knew he was feeling much more exposed than before in this position and it was exactly his objective. He supported his hips with both hands and spread them a little. There wasn’t an inch of Oscar hidden from Mark now. Mark licked his lips and blew a little air on his clit to see his reaction. 

Oscar, predictably now, moaned like he would die if Mark didn't go ahead and touch him. Mark caressed his labia majora with a tentative finger. He was so impossibly wet with anticipation.

“Can I go on?”

“Yes, yes, fuck, Mark please.”

Mark dragged his finger torturously slowly onto his clit, drawing another moan.

“There, Mark, there.”

Mark couldn’t help but smile smugly. 

“Now I will put a finger in, is that okay?”

“Yes please, ple-oh wait!”

Mark was frozen in place with the panic in Oscar’s voice.

“What’s it? Do you want me to stop? I can stop whe-“

Oscar shook his head frantically.

“No, no it’s all good but uhm, I think… I think there is something you should know.”

Mark’s brain was on fire with anticipation.

“What is it, baby?”

“I never did this before. I thought you should… you should know.”

Mark was motionless for a moment. He knew the kid wasn’t fooling around too much but he honestly wasn’t expecting this. This didn’t change the action but it changed the nature of everything. Oscar was trusting him with a lot of things and at a normal time, Mark wouldn’t hesitate to deliver. But this was… He was terrified to no end now, that something would go wrong. However, he tried to calm himself with the larger implications. He couldn’t nullify Oscar’s gift to him. It was so precious, more precious than anything Mark ever owned. The trust the kid put in him, the trust that Mark would make it good for him, take care of him, that he wouldn’t take advantage of it. Mark felt his eyes water.

“I understand. I don’t mind at all but are you sure you want to do this with me, dear?”

Oscar nodded before Mark could finish his question.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Please Mark, please just put your mouth on me, fuck me, I don’t know, I don’t care. Just do something please.”

Mark planted another kiss on Oscar’s thigh and spread his pussy again. If those were the terms, Mark wanted to take care of the implications later. Instead, he planted a kiss on Oscar’s labia.

“So beautiful for me…”

Oscar moaned, pressing his hips further. Mark licked a flat stripe all over it, holding Oscar’s hips in place with a strong grip.

“God, please, please more.”

Mark spent a bit of time teasing, licking around Oscar’s insides and returning to his clit before he started sucking. Oscar whimpered so sweetly, so sinfully. Mark wanted more. His dick was trapped helplessly in his trousers and wasn’t going to see light until he satisfied Oscar thoroughly. 

He tasted so nice. When people said someone’s pussy tasted sweet, he never agreed because it simply didn’t taste sweet. But with Oscar, it was better than sweet. It was brain-numbingly addictive, abundant and generously spread all over Mark’s face. Oscar’s high-pitched moans encouraged him more and he started his merciless assault on his clit.

Oscar was writhing, losing his grip under his knees. It was almost like he was trying to get away from it and push for more at the same time. Mark understood and pushed the back of Oscar’s legs further, folding his small body in two. His hands were almost covering the surface of his sweet pale thighs, making Mark go insane with the possibilities. Could he fuck him by holding him up, folded like this like a ragdoll?

He couldn’t be distracted yet. He had to give everything he had to the job at hand to give Oscar the most mind-blowing orgasm he ever had in his life. He wasn’t going to look for anyone else after this. He was going to know that Mark was everything he needed.

Oscar’s head was thrown back so it was impossible to see his face but the noises he made didn’t leave anything for doubt. The kid was euphoric under his touch.

“Like that, just like that please.”

If it was a younger Mark, he would idiotically go faster after Oscar’s statement but he was old enough to know that it just meant go on exactly like that. Mark’s rhythm didn’t falter.

It took him a while to bring Oscar to the brink of relief but when he did, he stopped.

“Mark, please don’t tease, I’m so close.”

Mark smiled at him, stubble glistening with slick.

“As you wish.”

He restarted with a renewed vigour and before he knew it, Oscar screamed his name like a scarlet ribbon ripping the fabric of the night sky. There were colours, voices and shapes. The universe’s heart was beating right under Mark’s mouth. It was the only thing that ever mattered and that was ever going to matter.

Oscar’s body went limp under him and Mark gently lowered his legs. He flowed into Mark’s lap like a cool, refreshing water stream. He was mumbling something that he couldn’t make sense of. He picked his relaxed body up in bridal style with ease and placed him in his own bed before he fell asleep.

He went to grab a wet rag to wipe Oscar clean and he returned to the sleeping angel in his bed. Mark’s ministration must have drained all the remaining energy in the kid after the workout session. 

He hesitated for a second before putting an oversized t-shirt of his on Oscar. Waking up completely naked could frighten him for a second and Mark didn’t want him to get cold. Oscar didn’t consent to sleeping in the same bed together explicitly but Mark was afraid of making him feel unwanted and abandoned if he instead placed him on the guest bed. As a compromise, Mark stayed on his own side of the bed, without touching Oscar, giving the kid room to sprawl.

He was still hard but he felt exhausted with the severity of the inner conflict he just had. He couldn’t have relieved himself next to Oscar and he was too lazy to go to the bathroom. It needed to wait and it surprised Mark to see how little he cared. All his needs could wait in the face of Oscar’s needs and feelings.

That kid was going to be the death of him.

[demcnsinmymind]

ꜱᴇɴꜱᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏᴅᴅʟʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

tagged by: @ebonyforged​

tagging: you

longer so behind a cut

What does your muse smell like? This one’s really hard and I don’t even know why. I don’t picture him to smell much like anything and am more than open to hear what others might think he could smell like. I think someone said that they imagine it to be peppermint-y, sandal wood-y. Whenever I think about it, the word ‘frosty’ just comes to mind, like the way the air smells when it’s really cold and idk why. Just a down to earth barely there smell and simple body/hair wash.

What do your muse’s hands feel like?   Precanon hands were pretty normal just in about every way. He certainly wasn’t a handyman so they’re on the softer side, his hands were used for lots of writing, be that physical or digital, and maybe holding a camera, but he never really carried anything heavy, so yeah, pretty well cared for and standard. Postcanon hands are a different story. Months of surviving inside Collingwood and trying to find/work out a way out have left his hands much rougher and dryer. They’re a bit calloused, but it’s not severe. It’s just in general that if you look at his hands postcanon, you know he’s done some stuff to survive.

What does your muse usually eat in a day?   I headcanon him to be pretty terrible at eating, both pre- and postcanon. Sure, he loves to eat and he does have a knack for shitty fast food at times, but he’s got a habit of forgetting to eat and does not eat regularly. It usually takes people reminding him to eat or him getting really hungry until he eats something. Precanon that’s because of his workaholism, postcanon it’s due to his PTSD and general trauma surrounding the fact that he almost starved to death. Pre-canon Lance occasionally had phases where he tried to eat better and healthier, especially since he also used to be a sports nut, but his job/being a workaholic just won’t allow keeping up strict and healthy eating habits. Post canon Lance eats waaaaay less than pre canon Lance, but he’ll eat literally anything and might even hoard some food just in case, simply because he still fears starving again. Even though he might not even eat that much of it. So yeah, his relationship with eating/food is just highly complicated.

Does your muse have a good singing voice?  It’s funny, but I headcanon that he does not. In fact, I headcanon that he has a terrible singing voice, which is why he rarely sings and only if he’s by himself. I don’t know why, he has a great speaking voice given his job as actor/director. But he just...can’t sing for shit haha.

Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks? Laaaawd, he has a truckload of bad habits. The most obvious being his previously mentioned bad eating habits. Sleeping is also another thing. Or more so, his lack thereof. Pre-canon, he constantly pushed himself to stay awake way past his getting tired. And he always slept too little, once again because workaholic. He’s a little bit better at sleeping post-canon, simply because he now considers sleep deprivation a terrible thing to feel and cheerishes his sleep more all thanks to all his being deprived of it inside Collingwood. Other bad habits include getting into ‘relationships’ he knows are shitty for both people involved, over-analyzing things, overcompensating and talking too big, interrupting people and being too straight forward at times. Nervous ticks include getting fidgety and fumbling with stuff when he’s nervous, chewing on his lower lip, and generally just talking to himself/a camera when nervous/scared. The scribbling/writing is also a big thing, as has been made evident by all his writing on walls.

What does your muse usually look like / wear?

I mean

Edgy early 2000s MTV tv host type. Converse sneakers, jeans, black/band shirts, black jackets. He’ll hate you if you make him wear a suit/tie/dress shoes. Sure, he’ll wear them for a job if need be, but privately? Fuck no.

Is your muse affectionate? How much? How so?

Surprisingly, yes, he is. I’d say it’s right in the middle, not too affectionate, but also not cold. But I’m talking about physically affectionate. Verbally not so much.  He was quite touchy feely and surprisingly gentle with people in canon, especially people he liked/cared about like Sasha for example. In general, it takes him a long time to warm up to people and trust them/like them enough and will keep his distance from most people, but if/once you’ve managed to crash that barrier with him, then he’ll be very affectionate if the situation calls for it. I don’t headcanon him as a person who’ll be much into cuddling, excessive hand holding and a lot of kissing, he’s aro after all, but there will be gentle touches and caresses here and there. He doesn’t care for it being returned, doesn’t even really know how to handle/enjoy it most of the time if he’s on the receiving end, but he likes giving out these little affectionate gestures.

What position does your muse sleep in? He’s a side sleeper. Nothing much else to say there. It’s canon. 

Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room? It depends entirely on the context. If he’s doing stuff for the show, like moderating a scene or acting, absolutely. In private/not in character? Nah, not really. He’s more reserved and does his own thing, which usually doesn’t involve much noise and volume. That’s only intensified post canon, he’s learned to be sneaky and quiet inside Collingwood, and Azzy gets a kick out of sneaking up on people all soundless and creepy.

[finitefall]

Are we welcome to follow if we love Rhaenyra AND Alicent? I think Rhaenyra is undeniably the rightful heir and it was a huge mistake that Alicent went to her father after hearing the King’s dying words instead of sending a raven to Rhaenyra to talk to her about it and what she’s doing is wrong, but I also have a huge amount of sympathy for her and could write essays on why I think she’s going along with putting Aegon on the throne despite knowing that he’s unfit to be king. In my eyes, it has less to do with Rhaenyra and more to do with wanting to feel like she had power. She realizes that her council has planned to crown Aegon all along. If she resists, she will certainly fail and have to confront the fact that she lacks true power here. If she goes along with it and tries to do it her way, she can maintain the more comfortable illusion that she does has power, avoiding the uncomfortable truth. It’s complex and I enjoy her for it. That said, I know she was waaaaay different in the book. I haven’t read it.

Also have to love Helaena and Rhaenys!

+add on to last ask: this is not to say Alicent is somehow “feminist.” She isn’t. I just think her actions are rooted less in wanting a man on throne and more in wanting the years she spent suffering to mean something, to actually amount to some control. The actions are sexist, but I think her motives are more complex deep down

Hi nonnie! First of all, of course you're welcome to follow and talk with me if you want to. There are plenty of people in the ASOIAF fandom I have zero interest in talking to (Daenerys haters are literally not welcomed here, for example). But you don't have to love Rhaenyra or hate Alicent. You can love both, hate both, love one more than another, I don't care as long as you're not incapable of understanding that Rhaenyra was the Heir and the Greens commited treason.

More on Rhaenyra being one of my favorites ASOIAF characters: she wasn't a good Queen and I don't like the comparison between her and Daenerys. Of course, we can make obvious parallels between those two characters, but Dany is a hero and would be a good Queen (I strongly believe in this) while Rhaenyra was a tyrant. But she's a very interesting character and I love her in a totally different way than I love Dany (I know this is off topic, I'm totally taking advantage of your message to answer to those saying we can't be both Dany stans and love Rhaenyra)

Of course, at this point on the show, I'm rooting for Rhaenyra. But I don't think you'll love her as much in the future or if you read Fire & Blood. Rhaenyra was whitewashed in the show, Alicent too (they did the opposite for male characters, like Daemon). But enough about that since you haven't read about the book characters.

About feminism: neither Alicent or Rhaenyra is a feminist. Rhaenyra isn't at all about women's rights either, except for herself. The difference between the Blacks and the Greens is that one side of this Dance commited treason, and that this treason has a direct link with the patriarchy.

Of course, you're allowed to feel for Alicent. I don't like Alicent but that doesn't mean I'm not disgusted at some things people have been saying (I'm convinced at this point that half of the ASOIAF fandom is brainless...) Also, if I tag some posts “anti x stans”, it’s because I don’t want to use the character tag. It’s not respectful for the fans who are going through their favorite character tag (I’m so tired of Dany hate showing up in the “daenerys targaryen” tag just because antis can’t be bothered to use proper tags). It’s not because I actually hate their fans.

I'm not a fan of Sansa or Alicent, and I have an amazing friend that I've known for a few years now whose favorite ASOIAF/GOT character is Sansa and whose favorite HOTD character is Alicent (she hasn't read Fire & Blood either, by the way). I would gladly read your metas about Alicent, even if we don't agree, but I feel like you could talk a lot about her with my Kitty Kat @alicentes, if you’re looking for someone who loves Alicent but isn’t at all anti Rhaenyra! 💕

This is also to say that, while I know there are people who only show respect to someone if they agree with them on every single thing, that’s just as unhealthy as all the disgusting hate we see in this fandom. So yes, you are welcome here. Of course you are. Shoot me a message off anon so I can know it's you? You can tell me if you don't want it published, although you honestly don't have to be scared of people going after you when you said nothing offensive!

Your favorites so far are Alicent, Rhaenyra, Helaena and Rhaenys? Mine are Rhaenyra (big surprise, I know), Daemon, Rhaenys, Mysaria.

[theteapotofdoom]

I was really afraid you lost interest in bnha and shigadabi so I'm really glad that you still like them

Oh don't worry, these boys have hooked for life at this point!

And I still care about MHA a lot, just not AS MUCH as I used to. But it just means that MHA went from "number one obsession only thing on my mind ever" to "one of my favourite things that I like a lot". I'm just more casual about it these days, but I'm still working on my shigadabi fics, still following the manga from afar and still lurking in the shigaraki tag!

But yeah I'll be honest: you're probably going to see less MHA content on this blog at the moment. Again, I will still talk about it, but it won't be the main thing on my mind. To tell you the truth, it was a matter of time. I've been on Tumblr for almost ten years, and for many years, I was very much a multifandom blog switching from one obsession to another every two months. So it's genuinely impressive that I managed to stay hyperfocused on MHA for four years!

My life has changed a lot since I first got into MHA, I also changed a lot, and MHA itself changed a lot. And that's how things should be! As the manga is slowly coming to an end, it feels almost appropriate that this part of my "fandom life" is changing too. It will always be incredibly important to me because I made lifelong friends thanks to this manga and it genuinely impacted the way I write and the way I view storytelling. But, as you surely know, the MHA fandom can be ... a lot to deal will. It wasn't always nice. I mentioned it before, but there was a time when a certain part of the fandom almost made me drop MHA for good. That was also on me though, because I was just waaaaay too invested in this fictional world and these fictional characters. I try to be more casual about my fandom interests these days. But yeah, this fandom is intense, mostly in the best way, but sometimes in the worst way.

So I think I got some sort of "MHA fatigue" after a while. At times, it feels like we're all running in circles and having the same arguments over and over again. But again, it doesn't mean that I'm quitting the fandom for good or anything! Just that I'm taking a step back and enjoying other things. And honestly, it will only help to keep my love for MHA more vibrant every time I come back to it!

I'm still very much in the shigadabi fandom though. As I mentioned before, I'm a guest writer on the TouTen zine Monochrome! I wrote two stories for this awesome project (one sfw and one nsfw) so if you love the Touya x Tenko pairing, don't hesitate to get your bundle right now!

Okay so as always, I turn a very simple ask into a full-on introspection essay I'M SO SORRY ... It's just that since there are some changes happening on this blog and since I know that a lot of people got to know me through shigadabi, I always feel the need to "clear the air" and make sure that everyone knows where I'm at right now.

But in conclusion: I still adore Shigaraki and Shigadabi, I still read MHA, I still write for Something Good and all my other shigadabi fics, I'm just more low-key about it, and I also want to share other fandoms with you guys :D

[idealisticrealism]

(Warning, spoilers) Okay so I feel like I need to rant to someone about The Cleaning Lady because I'm sick and have just binged the whole series in I think 24 hrs( So l spoilers included here ). First of all, after S3 E1 decided to then google somethings and then find out Adan passed away and I'm just gobsmacked, he was waaaaay too young and had young kids and a wife? :( But I also have some thoughts about the series. S1 - loveeeeed! Like there was somethings that was a bit too much but the chemistry between Thony/Adan and Thony/Fi was great and for me that really made the show. I'm going to be honest and say I found S2 a bit too all over the place.But I do feel like Adan was the shining star in this season. I think they could have had a bit less of the Luca plot line and I wasn't a super big fan of Thony developed in this season. I just sort of wished as well, that Thony and Adan at some stage after their kisses or at least in S2 would just talk about their feelings for each other. I was so sure the S2 was going to end with Nadia turning Adan to Kamdar to show that she was still "evil" while Adan wanted to turn good because he meet Thony. Because honestly, I just felt so confused to his feelings about Nadia, and they didn't grow the Thony/Adan bond either since they didn't even kiss even though both were at one point both available. Like when he came to her house, I 100% thought they would finally hook up. Sorry for my rant, just needed to write some thoughts off. Not saying they are right just my opinions.

Haha hi anon. I am always happy to receive messages about this show, rants or otherwise, so welcome :)

First off, I really feel for you with how you found out about Adan-- being right in the middle of a brand new obsession and then suddenly being hit with the knowledge that we'd lost such a vital part of it? That must have been really tough. Most of us had a couple of months to adjust to the news before the show came back, and honestly that was hard enough.

As for your feelings about S1 and S2, they're pretty normal! I think most people loved S1 and the amazing Armony chemistry, and found the "My son is dying!" situation a tiny bit repetitive. Lots of people would also agree with you about S2 and the physical distance that formed between Thony and Arman. I think we were all desperately hoping for a kiss scene or two (myself included), though I'm one of the few that actually felt that not getting an S2 Armony kiss made a lot of sense, and that their bond was actually still beautifully developed and built upon in S2 even without them getting more physical. In general, I feel that the way the characters were written in S2 was actually very well done, particularly Thony, who made realistically irrational decisions in high stress situations, and then had to deal with the consequences. If you scroll back on my blog you'll see a bunch of posts with many many words about my feelings on the subject lol, or you can check out the TCL tag which certainly has posts with less positive perspectives- but like you said, I'm not trying to say that either take is right or wrong! We all have our opinions and that's okay. Mine enable me to get the most enjoyment possible out of something that I already love, so I'm sticking with them.

Anyway I hope that you will continue to watch and enjoy the show, but if not, at least there'll always be Thony and Arman slowdancing by the firelight to look back on....

[chocolatecoats]

Helluva Boss Episode 5 thoughts

Since I’ve ranted/talked on Helluva Boss before and I’ve looked through the Helluva Boss critical tag often, I thought “Hey, why not continue?” Short version: I give the episode a 7/10. Better than episodes 4 and even 3, but still it could’ve been better.

Long version: SPOILERS AHEAD!

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

1. The animation is obviously more choppy than previous episodes, I’ve heard that SpindleHorse is on a much tighter budget now, but the choppiness kinda hurts to watch. I’ll give credit where credit is due, and say that some animation with Striker was rather great, especially with that last shot of him. But I’ve seen people on Youtube call this episode cleany animated already and question whether or not we watched the same thing.

2. Stolas’ and Blitzo’s relationship is rather uncomfortable. Stolas constantly makes sexual remarks at Blitzo even in public, he gives him no choice to have sex with him in exchange for running his business when legit he could be doing anything else as payment, and Blitzo clearly doesn’t want anything to do with Stolas otherwise, even having an alarm button for him at the HQ.

Usually I dislike the “Oh you would praise/hate this character for their actions if they were THIS gender!” excuse because bad writing is bad writing. But I feel that if Blitzo was a girl and the relationship with Stolas played out the same way it does, it would become less funny and more creepy to more people, as well as spawn much less fan art. Just because it’s a guy getting uncomfortable or that it’s a same sex relationship doesn’t mean it’s ok!

3. Though Blitzo is still unlikeable as hell. Him bullying Moxxie when he’s obviously saddened or anxious has made me continue to wish for his ass-kicking.

4. The show has remembered that Millie cares about her husband again, but I wish she’d stand up more to Blitzo. If she won’t, I’d like a reason for why. Perhaps it’s because she’s worried on getting fired for too much backtalk?

4. Moxxie once again gets abuse he doesn’t deserve, but it’s good that he got an episode ending that wasn’t him mentally or physically hurt, even if Episode 4 made me dislike him.

5. I do like Striker! His design is a neat change of pace from all the overly red imps, and I like the cowboy aesthetic. Also he’s voiced by Norman Reedus like what? How did they manage to get him?

He kinda reminds me of Rattlesnake Jake from Rango, albeit way less cool.

6. I believe the pacing here went by waaaaay too fast.

7. On that ending...yeah it seems Stella’s gonna be a real baddie. But regardless, this doesn’t excuse Stolas’ relationship actions. They’re both awful and I feel bad for Octavia here for having to deal with them.

Though I am curious if she knows...or even cares about what Stella’s trying to do. EDIT: The fight scenes were pretty well done! And even though the animation could get choppy at points, the shading in this episode looked really pretty! Like DAMN!

Overall, while its a big improvement, and I’d say it’s probably tied with Murdr Family for second best episode. Although....Vivziepop still isn’t the great storyteller I’ve seen Youtube comments consider her as. Getting well known voice talent for this show really isn’t worth the cuts to animation frames.

[boltwrites]

Housewarming

Fandom: The Legend of Korra Pairing: Bolin / Reader (AFAB, gender neutral) Rating: E Tags: Rough, Multiple Positions

Anon Requested: Can we get some rough bolin smut pls? Maybe like bolin and reader doing it in different places around a new apartment? (I LOVE your writing, I spent the better part of my day off on your blog)

A/N: this was originally waaaaay down my request list but. uh. inspiration struck? literally just Bolin and reader defiling every goddamn room of their new apartment. hell yeah. also this better go in the tags tumblr i stg.

By clicking read more you verify that you are at least 18 years old

Moving into an apartment together with your boyfriend was quite possibly the best decision you had ever made. It was just so fun, living with Bolin. You could wake up curled next to each other, Pabu pawing over Bolin’s face, chittering for his morning meal. You two could cook together, and do the dishes, and even that tedious task was manageable, when you had someone to do it with. When you came home from a long day at work, he was waiting, or you could expect him home soon, and you could talk to each other about everything under the sun. It was so sweet, and you couldn’t ask for anything more.

And, living together came with other perks.

Your back slammed against the wall of the hallway. What had been a heated makeout session in the living room had turned into something more, and with half your clothes gone, you didn’t know if you and Bolin would even make it to the bedroom.

“Bo, fuck-“ you tugged at his thick hair, gasping against his lips as he kissed you like you were water and he had been in the desert for days. You had been dating for well over a year at this point, and both of you should have been well past the honeymoon phase, but sharing your own space had brought something out in both of you. If you weren’t sharing sweet kisses and laughing at radio dramas, Bolin was shooting you hungry looks that you had never seen from him before.

He had always been gentle, and sweet, and so loving. But ever since you slammed him against the door to your apartment, kissing him so hard it could bruise after he brought the last of the furniture up, something had shifted. You couldn’t keep your hands off each other, and with an extensive knowledge of each other’s bodies and limits, combined with no roommates to be quiet for – you couldn’t help yourselves.

Bolin ground his hips against yours, drawing your attention back to the present as he kissed down your neck, a mix of suckling marks and gentle nips that had you gasping, nails raking against his naked shoulders.

“Bed?” he asked, kissing down to your exposed chest. You shook your head, keening as Bolin laved over a nipple, your hips thrusting against him, a low whimper escaping your lips.

“No, here,” you gasped out.

You had joked with him over dinner the other night that you two had fucked in practically every room of the house, and he had chuckled at it. You both had rattled them off over fire noodles.

Against the front door, that was first. You had slammed Bolin’s hips against it and he had gasped, the last box of trinkets discarded on the ground. You actually popped the button on his pants with how desperate you were to get him in your mouth, and when you did, Bolin had threaded his fingers through your hair, his hips pinned firm to the wall as you took him, and he screamed your name as he came down your throat.

The bedroom was next, of course. It was normal enough – you were under him, and he was loving you down like he always did, slow and sweet and perfect, when something clicked for him.

“Wait. We can be as loud as we want, can’t we?” he had whispered against your skin, and you had groaned, wrapping your legs around his hips, drawing him further inside you.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you had replied, not fully understanding his implication.

“Can I try something?” he had asked then, looking at you with a nervous smile, his green eyes shining with so much love for you that your heart might burst. “If you don’t like it, just say the word and I’ll – I’ll stop right away!”

He leaned back to gesture, swinging his hands across his chest, but you could hardly pay attention to him, with how the change in position pressed against you just right, the surge of pleasure distracting you.

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding. You trusted him more than anything, and if there was something he wanted to try, you were all for it.

You smiled up at him, and he leaned over to press a small peck to your lips. It was gentle, and sweet, but as soon as his lips left yours, he pulled out – and he slammed into you, hard, and fast. You screamed, half in shock, and half in pleasure as he filled you, grabbing at Bolin.

“Y/n! Are you-“

“Spirits, don’t stop,” you whined, wiggling against him. “Spirits, Bo-!”

His name turned into a keen as he listened to you, thrusting into you hard, and fast – so rough that you saw stars, that the bed rocked and groaned in time with you. It was nothing like any other time Bolin had fucked you – he thrust into you like he was starved for it, and the noises that fell out of his mouth were sinful, his shoulders flexing as he braced his arms on either side of your head.

You touched yourself in time with his thrusts, and when you came, you pulled so taunt you never thought you could come back down.

The bathroom was next.  You had most definitely decided to shower with Bolin to help with the water bill, and not because he looked mesmerizing with water dripping down his back, the droplets sliding over his shoulders, dipping into that sweet space between his shoulder blades, where you could kiss them away, wrapping your arms around him.

He had laughed, asking you if you really wanted to get clean.

“But we’ve never had the chance to, before,” you had goaded him, your hands trailing down his chest, the planes of his abs, the slope of his stomach, tracing his hipbones with your fingers as he gasped.

“Haven’t you ever wanted to be clean and dirty at the same time?” you teased, trailing a single finger along the underside of his dick. His breath had caught, his weight shifting so he leaned against you. You smiled as you kissed his neck, wrapping one hand around his hard cock, firm and full in your hand, while the other squeezed his ass, tracing a finger along the crease there.

He had gasped, and when you pressed a single finger into him, he had shivered against you, thrust into your hand. You had him like that, pressed together under the warm water, massaging the spot inside of him that made him see stars until he all but sobbed at the twin points of pleasure that were your hands.

Then the kitchen, where he had hiked you onto the counter, and you had broken a jar of sugar in his haste to accommodate you, both gasping against each other’s mouths as he fucked into you hard and shallow, leaving marks all along your chest, your neck, that your coworkers had eyed you for the next day.

And then the living room, where he had worshiped you with his fingers and his mouth, his fingers curling inside you harsh and desperate, as if he demanded another orgasm from you, despite the fact that your voice was hoarse and your legs were shaking from the three orgasms he had already pulled from you, each one leaving you breathless.

The hallway was the last frontier for the two of you, and as his eyes met yours, you saw just how blown his pupils were, how much he needed you.

He kissed over your stomach, his fingers already working at your underwear. You wiggled, trying to help him ease you out of them, and he fell to his knees.

“Bo,” you gasped, as the clothing fell to the floor, and his lips only drew lower, biting along your hip, his fingers already sliding between your thighs to spread your legs. Something about that, about him parting your thighs, so he could have access to you, made you weak in the knees, tangling your hands in his hair and tugging harsh.

“Want you like this,” he mumbled, nosing at the junction of your thigh and groan, and you made a pathetic, desperate noise. “Like you had me.”

Your thoughts flashed back to that first day, when you had pressed him against the door and taken him into your mouth, and you moaned, your hips moving of their own accord, and he kissed against you there roughly, wrapping his arms around your legs.

Before you could even comprehend it, he was hooking your thighs over his shoulders, sliding you up the wall as he nuzzled against your heat, licking a long stripe against you as he held you up. You gasped as he held your whole weight on his shoulders, and he smothered himself in you, licking into you deep and desperate. You moaned so loud, your heels digging into his back as you arched, pressing him even closer, his nose rubbing against you just right, so perfect that you couldn’t even believe it.

His thumbs dug into your thighs, and he sucked at you, long and full, punctuated by a flick of his tongue that made you writhe on his shoulders.

“Bo please, please-“ you begged. It was all too much, too hot, and you ached with need for him.

He listened, sucking you harsh, rocking into you, his tongue never leaving the center of your need as you tugged at his hair, earning a low, rumbling moan from him as he pleased you, never letting up. You arched, your nails scraping against his scalp as your orgasm crashed over you, the pleasure leaving you gasping, pulsing against him as he licked you through it, moaning at the feeling of your release.

Your hands and thighs shook when he finally set you down, pulling back to lick his lips and smile at you.

“I think that counts as the whole apartment, now,” you gasped, still shaky on your feet. Bolin raised an eyebrow, then your words caught up to him, and he laughs, nuzzling against your stomach, still on his knees. You pressed his cheek to your skin, once again reminded of just how much you loved living with him.

[bonnini]

Well I promised you a post about my bi Geoffrey Martewall headcanons so here it is guys <3

So…as I previously mentioned in a tag under one of @agapantoblu's posts, I've been half-seriously headcanoning Geoffrey Martewall a.k.a. the best character in the Hypervesum series as a clueless bisexual for... well, for some time. Let's say a year and a half. I've never bothered actually sharing these headcanons online because I didn't really have a clear idea for an actual argument in support of this claim of mine, but now I’m finally ready to put the all the reasons why I get extra-strong bisexual vibes from Geoffrey Martewall into words. Beware…it’s a lot of words :’’)

Exhibit A: Geoffrey and women

1.1. Geoffrey’s taste in women is just too good

Listen. LISTEN. Our man’s taste in women is IMPECCABLE: he could, as Brianna said herself, have chosen to take any young noble maiden as his wife, but he decided to go for a woman that 1) is a couple years older than him 2) is not noble at all and, you know, used to be just a poor paesant before coming to Châtel-Argent 3) already has a son who was fathered by a French knight to whom she was never married and that she had to raise as a teen single mom 4) at the time of their first meeting had a crush on his current worst enemy. LISTEN!!!!!!!! Geoffrey’s taste in women is suspiciously good, way too good, in fact, to be that of a medieval straight guy. I mean…Ian, a man who comes from the 21st century, fell for the textbook angelic maiden, while Geoffrey literally did not even bother looking around for some young blushing bride and just decided that the hot milf who threatened him with a pitchfork in book 2 was his first and best choice. What an Absolute Fucking King. This choice of his is, in my opinion, very telling of the kind of view he has of romance and women in general.

Which brings me to the next point, namely:

1.2. Geoffrey appears to have an attitude towards women and a view of womanhood that are significantly more modern than those of an average knight of his time

Is it just me or is Geoffrey actually the one with the most… modern mindset out of all the knights starring in the saga? There are a couple of specific scenes that kind of make me think of him as an outlier among his peers, and although some of those are definitely there for the purpose of showing us that Martewall is indeed a rather peculiar knight, others contribute to creating the picture of a character that is almost… out of place in the 13th century? 

Allow me to expand a bit further on the “Geoffrey and women” topic: we saw how chivalrous and respectful Geoffrey was towards an unconscious and injured Brianna. First he made sure her son was comfortable with him warming her up using his own body, and reassured him he meant no disrespect by removing her clothes; then, he proceeded to strip her in the most methodical and detached way possible, which let us know Geoffrey respects a woman’s body and modesty the way any proper, courteous medieval man would. But then there’s another, and in my opinion far more interesting, instance in which Geoffrey is seen interacting with a woman: I’m talking about his brief conversation with Blanche of Castile in book 3. Here we see 1) how Geoffrey treats women he is not attracted to (“not attracted to” as in: women he has no interest in romancing), and 2) to what degree he actually respects female authority. 

Our first introduction to Blanche is the scene in which Guillaume, Ian and Henri de Bar are talking about her right before the audience in Paris, during which we learn that the vast majority of noblemen do not take her opinions seriously and do not appreciate seeing her talk during political debates. Even Henri de Bar, although he does not mean to be insolent, raises an eyebrow at the thought of a woman participating in conversations that concern military strategy, while Guillaume seems almost amused at Ian’s heartfelt defence of her speeches. Which is why Geoffrey’s brief interaction with her stands out so much: when she starts talking about the war in England with him, he carefully listens to her as if she were just another male superior officer: he does not appear even slightly surprised by her competence, he does not try to dumb down the topic of discussion, he listens carefully to what she is saying, he offers his opinion only when she asks for it and he answers her questions in the most straightforward way possible. At no point during the conversation does he ever attempt to pull the condescending “with all due respect, madame…” to correct or contradict her statements. He is not in courteous knight mode, he is in soldier mode, and is unfazed by the fact that the one he is discussing logistics and war strategy with is a delicate looking princess.  Once again, the author is fleshing out Geoffrey’s character by having the protagonist and point of view character draw a direct comparison between him and other men. Martewall does not simply respect women as in “oh I’m a proper knight and I use my blade to protect defenceless maidens”, he actually, genuinely respects women. 

Which in my opinion is such an interesting facet of his values and personality: in the second half of book 2, Ian notices how thoroughly Harald Martewall managed to drill the code of chivalry into his son’s head, and remarks on the fact that the Martewalls are all perfect examples of the True Old School Knights. Both Harald and Geoffrey are the embodiment of the honourable, unyielding, upright warrior trope, and they perfectly fit the image we modern people conjure in our minds when we think of a knight of the Middle Ages. This specific aspect of Geoffrey’s set of values gives his character a strong, let’s say “old-fashioned” connotation, and yet said set of values seems to come from an internal source rather than rely on tradition and external rules. He, for example, got rid of his helm and shield when he saw his adversary in combat was not fully equipped, but he also willingly assisted the Dauphin in taking over England despite having previously sworn an oath of loyalty to John Plantagenet, since his sense of honour compelled him to aid the man who provided him with the help he needed to get his home back. Geoffrey is way more likely to base his choices on what his own moral compass compels him to do rather than resort to convention and tradition to tell right from wrong. This makes Geoffrey a perfect blend of both old and modern qualities, and in the context of his relationship with women he tends to lean quite heavily on his more modern side.  

Let’s go back to discussing his first introduction to Brianna for a second: he witnesses Brianna express her unrequited attraction to Ian, flirt with him and even mock-kiss him straight on the lips, and yet not only does that not make Geoffrey respect her any less, it also does not concern him at all later in book 3 when the story hints at the fact that he might have an interest in taking her as his wife. This is a rather unusual attitude! I mean, even the exuberant Etienne de Sancerre, who has shown an overt preference for feisty and confident women, grumbles and protests in jealousy when his wife Donna and Daniel greet each other with a hug while out in public, deeming the gesture to be inappropriate. What I’m trying to say here is that this is a man who is waaaaay ahead of his peers in regards to his view of women and womanhood, and who also appears to be very confident in his masculinity (so confident, in fact, that the thought of having to “put women in their place” never once crosses his mind), hence why I keep sensing the most excellent kind of bisexual vibes coming from him.

Exhibit B: Geoffrey and men

2.1 Jerome and Geoffrey’s friendship makes NO sense

And I mean it. Yes, we do read about Ian wondering how two people with such different sets of core values (ok maybe Jerome lacked core values all together lol) could have ever been friends, which means that yes, readers are in fact meant to notice how misguided Geoffrey is in his commitment to honour this bond of friendship and avenge Jerome’s death, but the more I think about this, the more I convince myself that this whole situation is, in fact…really weird.

Let’s start from the beginning: so, Geoffrey’s anger over Jerome’s death is the main source of conflict between him and Ian, and it puts the plot of book 2 in motion. Now, we never actually saw Geoffrey and Jerome talk to each other in book 1 (because at the time of its drafting the author had not yet planned on writing a sequel for it) so all the available details about their relationship (mind you, there aren’t that many) have to be gleaned from Geoffrey’s recollections present in book 2 and pieced back together in order to get a clearer picture. Another fact that should be noted is that we also never saw Jerome talk about Geoffrey (again, because Geoffrey wasn’t really that relevant to the plot of book 1): Geoffrey’s words are the only source available when it comes to trying to reconstruct what their interactions might have been like, which means that our perspective on their friendship is going to be inevitably, extremely one-sided. 

So here we go, book 2, chapter 5: Geoffrey has decided to abduct Ian and Daniel and drag them to his home in England to get some answers and avenge Jerome’s death and he currently has Ian at his mercy, so he immediately starts asking questions. He asks why he currently is not home, he asks why his brother has no knowledge of his whereabouts, he asks if his name really is Jean Marc de Ponthieu, and these are all very dangerous questions: they pose a real threat to Ian’s credibility. But then, when Geoffrey asks why Jerome was so certain he was an imposter, Ian breathes in relief, because that means Geoffrey knows nothing about the ambush in Couronne.

But. Wait a second.

How could Geoffrey possibly not know about Couronne? That’s how Derangale KNEW without a shadow of a doubt that Ian and Jean de Ponthieu were never the same person! Dude was busy forging incriminating letters left and right with Ponthieu’s help??? He was the one who helped Ponthieu and Renaud De Dammartin set Isabeau up to be assaulted by Claude de Dammartin??? Geoffrey explicitly says Jerome was obsessed with Ian, so Derangale must have talked his ear OFF with all his incessant rambling about him being an imposter…and Geoffrey did not bother asking him about the details of this weird doppelganger theory of his ONCE? We know how sharp and observant Geoffrey is. We know he is perceptive, and straightforward in voicing his opinions, and not easy to fool. We know he is the type of guy who likes to ask direct questions and get believable, clear answers in return, so he MUST have asked Jerome why he was so sure about the illegitimacy of Ian’s identity. How did Jerome answer? Did he make up a lie on the spot? Geoffrey is equipped with a very functional built-in anti-nonsense super-sensor (the one that allowed him to immediately spot all the places in which Ian’s deception and intentional gaslighting were coming off at their seams even after Ian had managed to convince Geoffrey’s own father that he was Jean de Ponthieu’s second-born son), so if that was the case – if Jerome had indeed tried to make up some story about why he knew who the real Jean de Ponthieu was – Geoffrey (in theory) would have easily been able to tell that he was being lied to. 

Do we then have to assume Jerome simply replied with “I just know”? Well…the text implies that this is the most plausible option: as Ian and Geoffrey’s heated conversation goes on, we realize that the only reason Geoffrey believes Ian to be an imposter is…because Jerome said so. And this, in my opinion, says a lot about both Geoffrey’s relationship with Derangale and his current emotional state. Let’s really think about what this little kidnapping stunt of his must look like from an outside perspective: Geoffrey just decided to abduct a man whose identity has been publicly confirmed by Guillaume de Ponthieu, one of the most powerful men on French soil, who also happens to be a relative of king Philippe Auguste (which means Ian has ties to the royal family as well lol???), who ALSO confirmed that Ian is the youngest Ponthieu brother and PERSONALLY BESTOWED the title of Faucon du Roi upon him. Geoffrey does not (currently) have a shred of proof against Ian: he just chose to believe that Ian is some random foreigner who has been allowed to pretend to be a nobleman and marry Isabeau de Montmayeur by the count of Ponthieu and the king of France because that’s what Jerome believed. Jerome stood alone in front of the entire French court, subjecting himself to ridicule, to denounce Ian as an imposter and Guillaume as a liar (and readers know he is 100% right, but look at this from the perspective of one of the characters who are not involved in this intrigue), which are such far-fetched, absurd, ludicrous accusations, even the closest of Jerome’s friends would have demanded at least some evidence in order to give his version of the story some credit. And yet Geoffrey, who has not been given even one crumb of information on the real Jean de Ponthieu’s actual political alignment, simply decided to stand with him against the rest of the world. 

And then, Ian starts answering Geoffrey’s questions by telling him all the vile things Jerome did to him, his family and his friends (while still carefully avoiding the Couronne topic): he tells him of his sadism, villany and criminal actions, and Geoffrey does not believe a single word of what he’s saying. He straight up calls all these accusations lies, and he urges Ian to stop insulting a knight of England his peer and a man of honour deserving of respect. Geoffrey refuses to listen to any negative remark Ian has to make and threatens him with violence when he insists on calling Jerome an unworthy man. “Jerome wasn’t a liar”, he says; “he was my friend, and you killed him”. This is exactly what I meant when I said their friendship strikes me as extremely weird: I mean come on, really? Derangale was a textbook piece of shit. He was violent, vengeful, and arrogant, and yet Geoffrey describes him as a “man of honour”??? It almost seems as if he and Ian are not even talking about the same person??? The sadistic felon Ian met in Cairs is nothing like the friend Geoffrey has such a high opinion of. Which can only mean one thing, namely that when he was with Geoffrey, Jerome was on his best behaviour. And in order to have adapted his behaviour to fit Geoffrey’s expectations of a good and honourable friend, Derangale must have had a very clear picture of the kind of person his “friend” was. Jerome knew Geoffrey would never have allowed all that malicious shit to happen under his watch, so he decided to keep all his plotting a secret from him. Geoffrey never was Jerome’s accomplice in aiding Renaud de Dammartin, Ferrand de Flandre and Jean de Ponthieu steal the Montmayeur fief for king John, and therefore has no reason to believe Ian’s words. 

There are two things about this situation that strike me as particularly weird. First of all: Derangale wasn’t just witholding information from Geoffrey, he was also hiding his true nature from him. And Geoffrey…never noticed? Geoffrey, who can usually smell bullshit and deception from a mile away, who has no difficulty in telling a man of honour from a felon, who normally would not bother wasting his time being friends with such an insufferable prick, never managed to guess the true nature of Jerome’s character? Huh??? And secondly: why exactly did Derangale ask for help from a guy he was so sure he would never have been able to turn into one of his accomplices he had to actively keep parts of himself and his plans hidden for months up to the battle in Bouvines? What we know, thanks to Harald Martewall, is that Jerome was the first to reach out to Geoffrey back in book 1: apparently, the two of them used to be friends as young boys, then stopped seeing each other for a couple of years until Derangale decided to pick up the phone and give him a call. Geoffrey was in England, minding his own business, when Jerome contacted him to ask if he was willing to join him in Béarne. He, as sir Harald recalls, “was busy raising a cavalry troop for Ferrand De Flandre, and wanted my last-born as champion in a tournament”. It is not difficult to guess why Derangale asked specifically for Geoffrey to join his faction. Martewall is, simply put, the baddest bitch in the area: he is easily the scariest and most skilled warrior out of all the knights we get to meet in the saga, and an experienced tournament champion is precisely what Jerome needs for the little show he has in plan for Béarne. What I really want to know here is: couldn’t Derangale have called for literally any other English knight to help him win? Why did he risk enrolling a guy he knew would never have approved of his schemes and totally could have kicked his ass if he ever found out about his misconduct? Couldn’t he have called for a couple more champions who would have been overjoyed at the opportunity of beating the shit out of all those French knights? Why did it have to be just him and Geoffrey against the ENTIRETY of Philippe Auguste’s lineup? Why was he so confident in his ability to manipulate Geoffrey? Oh AND. This is an information that is nowhere to be found in the actual books but it is something I asked the author to confirm because I was just too curious: Geoffrey…did not have fun in Béarne, like at all. He did not care for the show Jerome wanted to put on, he did not enjoy participating in that display of strength and superiority, and he was grumpier than usual during the whole ordeal. So our man Jerome basically decided to rely exclusively on Geoffrey’s excellence and made him travel all the way to Béarne instead of putting together a slightly larger faction of fellows who could have maybe shared his immoral cause (like hello?????? it’s literally JUST the two of them against ALL the French nobles competing at the tournament lmfao??? I mean ok girl!!! give us drama! give us spectacle!) despite knowing that 1) he would have had to completely alter his behaviour around him 2) he could never have explained to him why he knew with absolute certainty Ian was an imposter and 3) Geoffrey would have intensely disliked being at the centre of theatrics. Like…I get that Geoffrey is your most skilled friend when it comes to the art of jousting, but… his presence is also a bit too inconvenient in this context? I mean really? You didn’t know any other knights in the area who could have been available as champions? You had to call for Geoffrey? Specifically for him? Haha girl ok! (oh and you also saved some of the custom higher quality blades you had made for your squadron to arm Geoffrey? Ok! Oh and you decided to pick Geoffrey as the other leader of your special squadron? Girl Ok!!! The guy would leave your ass in less than a second if he ever found out about your awful crimes so keeping him at your side is quite the risky move, but you do you I guess).

And another thing is, not only did Geoffrey hate every second of that charade, he (and this is also information that I got directly from the author) was downright shocked at Derangale’s unprompted act of violence against the young count of Grandpré… that was something that caught him completely off guard and that left a bitter taste in his mouth. It makes total sense for Geoffrey to feel this way, that’s very in character for him. What actually, really surprises me is Geoffrey’s reaction at hearing Ian mention this particular incident. You were there, says Ian, you saw Derangale attempt to kill a friend of mine with your own two eyes, and yet you insist on threatening me for calling him a criminal and an assassin. And that’s what finally prompts Geoffrey to lay hands on him. He silences him with a slap so violent it almost makes him fall on the ground. Geoffrey reacted with anger and disbelief when Ian was describing him heinous crimes that he never witnessed and did not believe to be true, but only resorted to physical violence when Ian forced him to acknowledge and condemn an action he actually saw Jerome commit. This brief scene alone is enough for me to confidently conclude that Geoffrey is, there are no other words fit to describe his current emotional state, deep in DENIAL. He hears an uncomfortable truth he has no way of denying, he lets that send him into a violent rage, he acts that violence out and then he ends the whole conversation there. He just. Leaves. And he repeats the same exact pattern of behaviour a second time! Book 2, chapter 12: Martewall starts to interrogate Daniel, who tells him about Derangale’s first attempt at kidnapping Isabeau AND manages to have one of his own men confirm his story. Then Geoffrey becomes visibly agitated, to the point he inadvertently breaks the rod he brought to beat information out of his prisoner in fucking two, CHANGES THE TOPIC OF DISCUSSION ON PURPOSE, and then when Daniel insists on bringing the conversation back to Derangale’s crimes he draws his sword, points it at him in another fit of anger and then! He LEAVES!! AGAIN!!! Bro???????????? You keep saying you “want the truth” and yet when you finally get it you cut the conversation off because you don’t like what you’re hearing? Hello???

“You insist on defending him only because you do not want to admit you have been lied to and manipulated by him”, this is what Daniel says to Martewall’s face, and the most articulate rebuttal he is able to come up with on the spot is “that is not true”. He absolutely did not expect to be confronted with such merciless answers, and he has no idea how to cope with Ian and Daniel ripping into the image of the good and honourable Jerome that only exists in his mind, so he just rejects anything negative they have to say and breaks things like a moody teenager.

His behaviour is extremely erratic. For the entirety of the first half of book 2, Geoffrey is clearly not his usual self. His own father tells him he does not recognize him anymore. And when Sir Harald confronts him and makes an attempt at urging him to release Daniel, Geoffrey reacts with something I would almost describe as a…temper tantrum? Sir Harald’s request for an explanation from his son is more than legit: after all, he just learned from Daniel that Geoffrey decided to kidnap a renowned nobleman on a whim, without any evidence of his supposed crimes, WITHIN THE BORDERS OF HIS FIEF IN FRENCH LANDS. That could get them in SERIOUS trouble with both his brother Guillaume de Ponthieu and Philippe Auguste himself, as Salisbury will later remark on. I mean, this action is not only dishonourable, as Sir Harald will be very quick to point out, but also extremely stupid. And Geoffrey is not stupid. Like, at all. He knows when to shut up, his rage is usually under check, he is not prone to acting out in anger or taking rash decisions. But here, Geoffrey is letting his emotions run rampant. His father is being perfectly reasonable, and he replies quite disrespectfully by stating that he is not a young boy anymore and that he will not allow for any reproach o interference on his part.

It should be noted that Geoffrey’s troubled state of mind is not solely the result of Jerome’s death. In fact, in chapter 12, Geoffrey makes it clear why he is so angry and frustrated. He lays out all of his reasons to his father:

“I’ve always done my duty and I lost my honour because of those to whom I owed my loyalty. I fought loyally until the very end, I paid my defeat with imprisonment, only to discover at my release that my name is associated to those of a friend deemed a felon and a king judged a coward; I return to my homeland and I end up on a list of traitors because of you! I am forced to be subject to the last two accusations, but the first…that one I intend to acquit myself from with any means necessary. At this point, I have already lost my dignity as a knight and you are the last person who can reproach me for it, since you are the one who dealt me the final blow”.

Geoffrey’s words reveal that he is also doing all of this for himself. He is now more desperate than ever to prove Jerome was always in the right, since this seems to be the only means of coping with the loss of his precious honour. The thought of having been friends with a felon of this magnitude is something Geoffrey could never, ever tolerate, because what would this say about him as a person? This explains the state of denial he currently is in: he has done something he would normally see as despicable by kidnapping Ian in his own lands, but he could excuse acting like a vulgar bandit if only he managed to force a confession out of Ian and avenge Jerome’s death (have I already mentioned Geoffrey has NO business being mad about Jerome meeting his demise at Ian’s hands? Dude was killed in fair combat. On a battlefield. Ian did not assassinate him or anything of that sort, there simply are NO good reasons as for why Geoffrey could ever want to “avenge” his friend’s death?? like there’s literally nothing to avenge here??? Lol???). And although Geoffrey is indeed defending Jerome’s honour because he feels that his crimes, if proven true, could reflect badly on himself, Geoffrey’s words still betray real attachment and a genuine feeling of affection for Jerome. Ian himself will later recognize their bond as valid by directly comparing it to the sentiment of friendship he shares with Daniel. At the time of Ian’s abduction, Geoffrey did not yet know that he would eventually be forced to fight yet another war once he’d finally reach his home: at that point in the story, Geoffrey’s motives for taking Ian and Daniel as prisoners had little to do with him wanting to gain back the honour he now feels his father tore from him by ordering him to side with him against their king. The primary motivation for his disreputable conduct in chapters 4 to 10 was, in my opinion, grief.

Another thing that I find extremely interesting and that in a way contradicts what I mentioned above about Geoffrey not being able to tolerate the thought of having been friends with a criminal, is that once he starts to come to terms with the proof of Jerome’s misconduct…he never disavows their friendship. What he says once he finally accepts Ian as his friend and lets go of Jerome’s obsession is: “I did everything in my power to honour our friendship, going even beyond common sense”. He never tries to claim they were never really friends or proclaim he wants to cut all ties with such a man. And towards the end of book 3, when Geoffrey and Ian are discussing what Ian’s exile really implicates and Ian is finally forced to admit he never was Jean de Ponthieu, Geoffrey all of a sudden brings Derangale into their conversation to reflect on how Jerome was right all along and how happy he is to learn that he at least did not lie to him about this one specific thing. Well, maybe I’m reading too much into this, but I was expecting him to focus on the sheer amount of lies he had been fed by…you know, Ian, the friend who happens to be alive and whom he is currently confronting. He does not even seem interested in asking Ian to explain himself, it is Ian who apologises to him, completely unprompted. They were having a conversation about Philippe Auguste and Guillaume de Ponthieu wielding the power to destroy his life, and after several beats of silence and intense consideration, what Geoffrey decided to say out loud was “I’m happy Jerome didn’t lie to me about you”? Ummmmmmm ok??????????? Lying to him certainly was not the worst thing Jerome has ever done? What about the many crimes he committed against Ian, his friends and his family? What I’m trying to say here is that Daniel’s argument about Geoffrey having been manipulated by Jerome must have cut deep, since here he is, bringing this up again. Derangale died more than two years ago, and Geoffrey already gave up on trying to redeem his honour and reputation, but he appears to be still in the middle of the process of learning to truly let him go. Dealing with the idea of having been deceived in such a cold way by a close friend to whom he though he owed unwavering loyalty is proving to be challenging. I might be delusional but I can only make sense of the fact Geoffrey brought Jerome into their conversation about Ian only to briefly touch on a strictly personal matter that concerned his own feelings and his private relationship with Ian’s old archenemy if I assume Geoffrey was, at this point in time, still dealing with some very intense and complicated feelings (….furthermore…………it doesn’t…really…make sense…for Geoffrey to be happy about Jerome telling him that Ian’s identity was a hoax…since the whole point of telling him that…was getting his help in destroying Ian and not really “being honest” with him…like…Geoffrey, love, why are you so desperately hanging on to these miniscule scraps of “““honest and genuine interactions”””, why do you still treasure this literal MICROSCOPIC CRUMB of “““sincerity””” on Jerome’s part…hello…………………???). Sorry but this whole Jerome/Geoffrey mess just exudes one-sided, unfulfilled and unacknowledged tenderness in copious amounts once you really start to read into it. My personal interpretation of the situation is that Geoffrey is having such a hard time trying to make sense of the extent of Derangale’s manipulation and condemning him as someone who was always undeserving of his friendship and devotion because he completely lacks the tools to properly analyse and interpret his own feelings on the matter.

2.2 Geoffrey and Ian vs Geoffrey and Jerome

I’m touching briefly on Ian and Geoffrey’s friendship dynamics in book 3 mainly because I think that their relationship will provide me with some good clues and parallels that could be of help in determining what Geoffrey was like when he was in Jerome’s company, since the third instalment in the series gives us such a wonderful and complete picture of the kind of friend Geoffrey is. Remember how Geoffrey immediately sided with Ian against Gant without asking for evidence against him and came to Ian’s rescue twice despite having very important businesses to attend to? Geoffrey has repeatedly shown that he has a tendency to be aggressively protective of his closest friends, to the point he has no problem resorting to extreme violence to ensure their safety (Ian, bleeding on the floor, gripping Geoffrey’s arm: “please tell me you took at least one of my assailants alive I’m going to need a witness???????” Geoffrey: “…” Ian: “…” The pile of corpses right behind them: “…” Geoffrey: “…sorry lol I kinda dealt with them in a bit of a heavy handed way” Ian: whimpers and collapses in his arms). Geoffrey’s attitude in regards to Ian’s enemies perfectly explains why he never had any qualms siding with Jerome against Ian despite the fact Derangale wasn’t telling him shit about the supposed evidence behind his outlandish claims. This is actually part of his regular pattern of behaviour: Geoffrey has consistently shown a thorough commitment towards undying trust and unconditional support through direct action. He might seem cold and aloof since he is never seen behave in an overtly friendly or approachable way when he is out in public (he also does not smile ONCE throughout the whole trilogy), but this right here is, in my opinion, a very affectionate man who is capable of forming true and intimate bonds with a handful of hand-picked men whose company he deeply treasures. Let’s talk about how Geoffrey U-turned at the speed of light to go back and help Ian corner Gant even though he was in the middle of carrying out an extremely important mission for Blanche of Castile. Let’s talk about how Derangale did not even have the time to fall to the ground after Ian delivered him the finishing blow, because Geoffrey literally teleported behind him to catch him, hoist him on his horse and take him to safety (let’s also talk about how Ian later found Derangale’s corpse among those of all the abandoned fallen soldiers the imperial army was not able to retrieve, and saw that his dead body had been laid on a shield with care, which means Geoffrey probably was the one responsible for preserving his dignity in death since we know for a fact he was there to hear Derangale’s last words and witness him die – I am literally about to start screaming please send help :)))))))). Do not let his grumpiness and harsh words fool you, Geoffrey is the most dedicated best friend another knight could ever ask for.

HOWEVER, the main difference between the two relationships I am comparing is that Geoffrey’s support of Ian is always unconditional, but never irrational in the same way his pursuit of revenge on Jerome’s behalf was, and at no point in the story does Geoffrey fail in evaluating Ian’s character or intentions. Furthermore, Ian’s gaslighting game was ON POINT in book 2, he was warping reality around Geoffrey like a damn magician, but Geoffrey never fully bought into his carefully crafted lies. And yet I am expected to believe that Derangale was such a skilled master manipulator he was able to conceal his true nature and agenda from Geoffrey for months? Hello??? PLEASE! Make it make sense!!! The ease with which Derangale was able to withold crucial information from him is extremely suspicious. Really? You mean to tell me Jerome Derangale had one of the least gullible people in the saga wrapped around his finger for years and never once slipped and misbehaved in front of him? Sorry I know at this point I must sound extremely redundant but Geoffrey’s selective blindness towards anything that concerns Derangale really is the weirdest thing ever, like, uh oh! Are you sure you didn’t catch any overly soft feelings for your bestie? So…I’m gonna say it: my theory on why Geoffrey’s behaviour was all over the place in the first chapters of book 2 is that he has always been completely unaware of the true nature and extent of his emotional attachment to Derangale, and this cluelessness of his contributed to worsening his already frustrated state. Furthermore, I also think Derangale must have noticed something was going on with Geoffrey and decided to use it to his advantage. Dude was a bit too confident, suspiciously confident in his ability to keep Geoffrey at his side without having to disclose any kind of compromising information.

In conclusion:

What I’m trying to say here is that I’m pretty convinced Geoffrey Martewall is not one of the straights. To sum all of this up, he:

-drinks astronomical amounts of his own extra strong brew of respect women juice on a daily basis

-has a tendency to get very attached to a few selected male friends who he then proceeds to protect with everything he has

-never noticed his old friend (👀) was lying to him, acted in a very out of character and erratic way for a while after his old friend’s (👀👀) death and was ready to commit actual crimes in an attempt to honour his old friend’s (👀👀👀) memory.

So. Yeah. The bi vibes are there. I would rather die than give up my Clueless Bisexual King Geoffrey Martewall headcanons! Sorry but a straight Geoffrey would make zero sense to me. Your honour can’t you see!!! this guy is WAY too cool not to be bi!!!

I rest my case.

P.S. I cannot BELIEVE I’m actually posting this monster on the day of the anniversary of the battle of Bouvines??? I swear I didn’t do it on purpose, at first I was really annoyed at the fact that putting this together was taking me weeks but then yesterday while I was editing I realized I would eventually be able to publish this on the very day Derangale died and Geoffrey was taken prisoner :’’) Perfect timing am I right?

[ihopethisendswell]

My Computer Is Terrible So I'm Stating My Story Ideas Here Part 9: This is gonna be very f-ing vague but it has Lore Keeper Sonia in it and that all that matters.......and my oc x Leon ship I guess.

Okay okay okay

Swsh Fantasy/Medieval/Royalty Au

You love it. I love it. Will I write about it? Eh. Will I gush about it? Absolutely.

So so so

Some random things that I'm thinking about.

I'm going full ramble here prepare yourself.

Lore. Keeper. Sonia. My. Beloved.

Let her have an active role dammit

For what idk but it'll be something!

Also King Leon cause duh

With Raihan as his number 1 knight. The only one who can at least match him in battle

Also his bff( along with Sonia)

Being a young king Leon had less time to interact with those he cares about

Like Hop

Also Prince Hop My Beloved

So like

The plot is very vague but like

The basic idea is that there's a threat of a dragon or something similar to the sort

And ofc King Leon and his best knight will go to the threat themselves since soldiers they sent has note returned so better go themselves to not loose anymore men

So as they prepare to leave Sonia comes along and is like " I'm coming with you I know about these Legends of the Land that might help you" and Leon is like " No it's do dangerous" and they fight about while Raihan is in the background like " oh damn" before Leon uses his status as a king and orders Sonia to not interfere which really blows a whole into their already stained friendship

It also causes Raihan to question if his relationship with Leon is that they're actually friends or it's just of a king and his knight ( only professional)

Leon in all of this is feeling very bad but Rose is like " you did what you had to do" and tries to encourage Leon about his abilities/ status/ relationships.

Rose is Leon's counselor/ Duke/ idfc but he's there

Change in perspective: it's hops turn

His whole thing is that when he was really young he used to be bff's with this girl( Naomi) but the problem is that no has seen her AND one day she just disappeared like that one guy in the meme so no one believes him when he says that she exist

So up until now he was taught to believe that he was imagining things and that this girl didn't really exist until he started having weird dreams about someone calling him to fulfill some prophecy of sword and shield or whatever and each time this person mentions Naomi, his childhood friend

And in his dreams it's said that they have to go to the place Leon and Raihan are going to fulfill the prophecy

So now Hop's like " well dang I guess I have to fulfill this prophecy but there's no way that Lee would let me go with him-" ( cause he overheard Lee's and Sonia's fight) " so who can I ask?"

Piers that's who!!!

Idk if he's gonna be a duke or part of a gang of thieves not how tf does hop know about him but he does and we're gonna role with it

THIS IS GETTING ODDLY SPECIFIC FIR SOMETHING THAT'S SUPPOSED TO BE F-ING VAGUE

Also Marnie tags along too because of course she does

They somehow tag Bede along who was going to stop them but they forced him to come anyway

BACK TO LEON

A day before they leave Raihan is like " we should head to the market for extra supplies " and Leon's like " yeah sure" so they head to the market

While they're there Leon bumps into a stranger with black clock with neon blue highlights aka Alexis!!!!

And Alexis drops a few things most notable a compass of sort but before Leon can say anything Alexis just snatches it out of Leon's hands and walks off without a word

And Leon's like " rude" but honestly doesn't think of it

So the next day they're actually leaving for real and after a long while on the road Raihan thinks that some snuck on their carriage only to find out it was just Sonia because she's a bad bitch like that

And Leon obviously makes a fuss because she went against his orders but she's like " I know more about * insert place* more than the two of you combined!" ( Well not really, and Raihan is fairly knowledgeable about Legends and history and and stuff but I need a reason for Sonia to be there okay)

They fight for a bit before Raihan gets in between the two and is like " we're too far to go back now and she might be a big help so stop fighting" and they stop for the time being.

Que travel sequence with both parties having shenanigans

Leon and Sonia fighting

Hop and Bede fighting

Marnie honestly vibing

Piers being tired of everything and rethinking his life choices

Raihan honesty having to be the middle man before snapping himself and now all three of them are not on good terms ( oh you thought it was just gonna be Alexis x Leon angst? Ha! The games gave me both to much and to little content to work with. Suffer)

Another perspective change but it's Alexis this time!!!!!

In the game canon he had a relatively light scar on his right eye. Well now it's worse :)

In this Au he was cursed by a certain green haired man( Ghetsis) (I'm going to dread tagging this aren't I ), who was an evil warlock and king( or Alexis' Homeland and by force I must add)that Alexis defeated cause he was once a hero

Bascically he's cursed to have the appearance and abilities to a half-dragon

So for the most part he looks human with a few things akin to Zekrom minus the tail.

To be specific his arms and legs are both seemingly chard black, with slightly visible lightning marks. they glow blue when he's using magic/ his powers. His eyes ( well eye) is like Zekrom's

While that sounds cool, his new abilities give Alexis a lot of pain, as his body isn't suited for it

And because big that he can't really control his new powers so he's not only hurting himself but also those around him.

As much as I want to go the route of he runs away from his family and friends to look for a cure and protect them this guy Formerly had no clue how magic worked he just used it, so he had to ask those around him who did to help him

Which involves the dragon that everyone is looking for as it is said to sap energy of any kind, which would reverse his curse.

This dragon is called Eternatus

The problem is that this same dragon is known to to use it's energy to cause destruction around it and Alexis is like yeah no, and goes off to find another way with Elliot and N since both Cheren and Bianca have they're own duties and N knows about the curse being Ghetsis' son

The compass is magic and it's away for each of them to tell where the other is and use for communication

It's also used to detect magic!

So yeah this compass is very important

Along they're travels the twins have this very strange dream regarding Naomi but they notice that A) she's wearing a necklace that was once owned by their uncle before he moved away to start a family.

So they rightfully assume that this girl is their cousin

The second thing they notice is that Eternatus is literally right behind her and is causing her A LOT of pain.

Bascically she's begging them to come save her because she's gonna die if they don't

If your wondering why she didn't contact Hop it's because she assumed that Hop had forgotten about her so she thought it would be pointless. Not the spirits/ the wolves though!

So know the twins have no choice but to go find Eternatus and rescue Naomi because why wouldn't they she's in trouble and they're cousin !!!!

So they tell N the gist and make they're way to the kingdom that Leon rules and Alexis bumps into Leon yada yada yada you get it

And after that they leave for Eternatus.

I have a lot more ideas but this is getting waaaaay to long so I'm just gonna make a part 2/ part 10.

Seriously this is very fun to think about as I love the fantasy genre.

TDLR: This is awfully specific for something that's supposed to be very vague. Also Lore Keeper Sonia my Beloved ( I know I didn't talk about her much but just know I love her dearly)

If anyone have any ideas or just want to brainstorm with me, feel free to tell me!

[prairiedust]

The Further Folklore of Supernatural

Here’s a little more folklore meta in light of how season 15 has been playing out if anyone is game. I genuinely thought that Moriah would be the end of the folklore stuff and tossed out “Folk the Author” as an “epilogue,” so this is probably less of an addendum than it is a waymarker as I try to continue to parse these themes into the last seven episodes.

Welp. *waves hands at everything* THIS is not how anyone expected 2020 to go. Things got a little bit big and I stopped thinking about Spn in light of needing that energy elsewhere. But I also don’t want this crapfest to ruin how I fan my favorite show, so here I go again. I will attempt a TL;DR, too!

If you’ve read my old “folklore” analysis here about how I think fairy tales and all their baggage fit into Supernatural season 14, you know that I believe Castiel has stepped into a Sleeping Beauty type story, and that coincidentally a few themes and symbolism from Snow White kept popping up around Dean. (I hold Sam to be a Protagonist in the modern “literary fiction” sense of the word, but emotionally, thematically, and narratively he’s always been a little inaccessible to me. I finally understood him when the death-of-the-author plot surfaced, and I’ll get to Sam eventually here. And Jack, there’s a little Jack in here, too.) 

If you would rather have the TL;DR than read several thousands of words about how folklore and myth *might* be abstractly connected to an American genre show, all I can say is that I tried. The textual support is all in the folklore posts. This is as succinct a summary as I could fabricate. At least I’m not gonna talk about Sam and bricolage and freeplay! This is an almost completely theory-free post! If you don’t want to read or don’t need a refresher and just want to know how this has been working in 15, you can scroll down to “END OF TL;DR”.

So, to catch up, I’m not talking about the folklore and mythology that this show has always relied on for plot and MOTWs. I wasn’t drilling down into urban legends like Hook Man or world folk monsters like shtrigas or pishtacos. By “folklore” I mean the study of storytelling tropes and tale types that have been with us for ages. One of the many subtexts of the end of the series. I’ve been tracking this because I think it’s fun to see how fairy tale imagery and mythology might layer preconscious suggestions into the text of the show. I personally think it was loud enough to be seen easily, but more than likely viewers felt unsettled, felt cheered, or felt like they knew what was coming? I’m curious to know. Anyway.

When we found out that Kelly Kline was going to name her baby “Jack” waaaaay back in season 12, things started chiming. Jack and the Beanstalk. Jack the Giant Killer. Jack Tales. Jack is a powerful Western character, sort of a cross between a noble hero and a trickster, featuring in stories that often blur lines and boundaries. He is both the poor man’s youngest son and the equal to King Arthur’s heir. Jack is both everyman and extraordinary. Jack is so cool, I wish I had more time to parse that but his qualities are not subtle in the text/subtext, anyway.

But back to my half-crack reading of seasons 14 and 15. 

Once upon a time in Supernatural, there were two fairy tales being told. Both fairy tales are found all over the world and in many forms, but they all can be grouped together because they all contain shared elements of the same basic plot or shared themes, and these two in particular are sister stories. So when I mention “Sleeping Beauty,” I’m talking about lots of different versions of the folk tale, and the same for “Snow White,” which can be found in one form or another in storytelling traditions all over the place. It is both helpful and irritating that these are both Disney movies, too.

Jack makes an allusion to Sleeping Beauty in 14x03 The Scar while talking to Castiel-- it’s the kind of subtextual flash that in and of itself means little and proves nothing, but then beginning with The Scar we got three stories in a row that dealt with “sleepers” of some sort-- Lora in 14x03 doomed to die because of a witch’s spell, Stuart in 14x04 Mint Condition in a coma because of a ghost attack, and Sasha’s father in 14x05 Nightmare Logic under the spell of a clever djinn. It’s powerful subtext, like a soft light that bathes these episodes in the color of fairy tale and makes Jack’s Dramatic Swoon at the end of Optimism all the more Dramatic-- subtext amplifying the plot. Jack goes to Heaven, but is eventually cornered by the Shadow, who wants him in the Empty where he will sleep forever-- the Shadow being an entity who has claimed the husks of dead angels since their inception and thus implies a “curse” laid on Jack from the moment he came into being-- but Castiel, who is ever a thief in oh so many ways, makes a bargain with the Shadow and essentially takes over the consequences of Jack’s Sleeping Beauty story (hence my rarely used but hilarious tag “Castiel Thief of Endings.”)

Now that we know from 14x20 Moriah that the Shadow and Billie the Reaper are, if not allies, at least working together when Jack is awakened in the Empty, does that mean that Castiel’s deal is still on the table, or has that fate been thwarted? *pounds table* Was Jack’s death and Chuck’s rise as a “greater threat” in 14x20 enough to shift Castiel’s ending? It’s the kind of subtextual question that lends tension to the narrative and it’s what I am here for. 

Well, speaking of thwarted expectations, Dean’s arc was being shadowed by a Snow White tale type. We all know Snow White but why don’t I sum it up anyway, since Disney messed up the folktale ending lol. Snow White is cast out of her home by her jealous stepmother (and echoes of the stepmother’s magic mirror show up in 15x02 Gods and Monsters) who sends her huntsman to kill her; the dude can’t do it and turns the girl loose in the forest instead. Snow White joins a band of outsiders who live in the forest-- in the Disney movie and the Grimms’ tale they are dwarfs, in some versions she happens upon a band of robbers-- and they love her very much and we presume she’s safe for the rest of her life; Michael mysteriously turns Dean loose to join Sam’s gathering of hunters, however we know, like Stepmom, Michael is still out there. The stepmother finds out that Snow White is actually alive and contrives to kill her herself. Eventually succeeding, Snow White appears to die and is usually laid to rest in a crystal casket/glass coffin. Her stepmother’s machinations have _stolen her agency_ (further paralleling Dean’s possession by AU!Michael.) A Handsome Prince stumbles upon Snow White, is besmitten with her, and he asks her protectors if he can have her, as one does. Leaving the Disney adaptation aside, Snow White awakens when whatever item that has caused her death-like state is dislodged (piece of apple in her throat) or removed (magic corset) or withdrawn (poisoned hairpin) by her protectors. Snow White is a story about the community of the dwarves of band of robbers or adopted family caring deeply for her, and when Dean starts making his own crystal casket, the ma’lak box, in which he will ride out eternity in tormented symbiosis with Apocalypse Michael, he has to rely on his family to help him see the plan through. However, here’s where Jack-- who is as much a chaos engine as his surrogate father Castiel if not more so-- steps in and ruins the ending. Jack smites Michael. Dean Winchester is saved. Again. To put the final nail in the coffin, so to speak, Jack later destroys the ma’lek box entirely. 

That was quite the surprise ending… for one of the stories.

Was the end of season 14 the end of the Sleeping Beauty theme, also?

END OF TL;DR

I quit writing about “folklore” for a while, but that doesn’t mean it stopped being a theme. It just stopped being fun to write about as the story got more and more dark, and when it transmuted into two parallel themes of “folklore” or storytelling by the people versus Death of the Author--or storytelling by a lauded authority-- and there was so much angst about the boundaries of Chuck’s powers, I just wanted to sit back and enjoy that. I did distill my thoughts about Sam’s new arc in the DotA plot, which I thought would subsume the folktale themes but hey, we still have folktales around, too. I mean, we have Sam and we have Dean, and we have two “literary” subtexts, or maybe rather two subjects about the nature of story, something that I thought was a little bit of a surprise.

Storytelling was a Feature of 15x07 Last Call, both in the sense that Lee and Dean swap new stories and tell old tales of their adventures together as they catch up, but also in the sense that we got additional “text”-- hints of a backstory where John and Dean hunted with Lee in that swampy long-ago “Stanford era,” and again we get storytelling when _Lee recounts how he ended up keeping a marid in his basement_. There is also an allusion to the Thousand and One Arabian Nights in that episode that I yelled about in a meta that I never put on the interwebs, but the “marid” is in a specific tale in many editions of that collection, and thus calls in not only a different folktale tradition but the concept of a framed/nested narrative, which I believe will be important to understanding the last episodes of the series, but that’s an aside. In 15x08 Our Father Who Aren’t In Heaven, Castiel _tells Michael the story_ of how everyone ended up where they are now to convince him to help. And Michael and Adam’s allyship, if not friendship, was probably the best subversion of any “storytelling” expectation we’ve ever had on this show. Belphagor set us up for “room full of crazy” or something, but, no. We got symbiosis. 

That almost sums up how I’ve been viewing the last “era” of spn. This wasn’t in the master post, but I shouted a lot about underworlds before 15x09 Purgatory 2: Return to Purgatory, and then stopped shouting because I had to ferment for a while. Also, as has been mentioned, the world turned to crap. But talking to other meta writers during the ramp up to the resumption of the season helped me realize just why this reading of myth to folktales to literature feels so right.

Underworlds and Otherworlds…. Everybody has crossed into an “underworld” or three in Supernatural, it’s really nbd. It was actually surface-level plot in season 13. By the time 15x09 rolled around, our heroes are just, like, strolling in and out of “sealed off” Hell after doing a level one spell and chilling with Billie in the Empty and even that Purgatory trip didn’t have the same feeling of danger that, say, crossing into the AU did. But also, we’re at the point where subtext is leading us to a _satisfactory_ ending. Where before we had serial text, like a cumulative tale type-- “The House that Jack Built”-- which just kept adding more and more plot, we’re hurtling o’er the apex of Freytag’s pyramid now and things are getting loud.

But they’re also getting very shifty.

I wrote a little bit about Sam Winchester successfully reviving Eileen in 15x06 Golden Time and the “Orpheus and Eurydice” symbolism of him keeping his back to her. (I’m not linking it because it’s so, so rough.) But because Sam is not an underworld hero, not completely-- I see him as a modern Protagonist coming to terms in a psychoanalytical model with things like mortality, fallibility, and mastery-- maybe bildungsroman, even -- he was able to subvert the tragic ending of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice because it is not “his” story. But if I were pressed to find a mythic or folk tale type to measure Sam against, I could. I would probably sideye “the sorcerer’s apprentice” trope (ATU 325-The Magician and his Pupil :D ) which began as a poem that entered European folklore on different fronts. (and weirdly, that story was also Disnified in Fantasia. That’s probably more my own limitation as a gen x american lol than anything coming from the writer’s room.)

Dean got his moment in Purgatory where he was able to finally come to grips with his anger and heal the rift between himself and Castiel because Purgatory is a different kind of underworld. Dean is a successful threshold-crosser, having crossed that boundary out of Purgatory before, but in 15x09, his prayer to Castiel is all a subtextual evocation of doing the emotional and mental work of therapy, which Sam, as a modern protagonist, is usually caught up in. The mythic hero also deals with mortality, failibilty, and mastery, but in different terms. I hope I’m doing an okay job peeling apart these nuances that I’m seeing.

Since Castiel accompanied Dean to Purgatory, and in the past made his own wildly successful incursion into and out of Hell with Dean’s soul, and was the one in The Trap who actually retrieved the Leviathan blossom, Castiel counts as an underworld hero, too, but you can pull the lever and send the tumblers spinning again and make him a fairy tale character in that he has made this Bargain with the Empty which is both in the “modern” tradition of subverting a fairy tale, and the tale type “deal with the devil.” Or he could be seen as a modern protagonist in that he’s lowkey grappling with questions of selfhood and identification. “I am an angel of the lord.” “I am no one.” “It’s Steve, now.” “You are nothing.” “I am an angel.”

We even got an episode that playfully explored the concept of “hero” by subverting our expectations (Sam and Dean were rescued by, of all people, an upgraded Garth.) It was called The Hero’s Journey, after the Joseph Campbell book about mythic heroes.... !!! Like, what??? !!!! I didn’t even have anything to say about that episode, it just rocked. The “meta” was just all out there in plot, like the olives and boiled eggs in a 1950’s gelatin recipe. 

Some of this slipperiness in the subtext points right at the study of folklore and the (admittedly Eurocentric at first) efforts to transform a “soft science” into something approaching scientific rigor. The Aarne-Thompson-Uther folktale index is today a codifying or cataloguing tool, with which anthropologists and literature scholars can line up stories based on the motifs found within them-- it is useful for cataloguing tales, making comparative studies, and for trying to trace these stories back through human history to find the One First Story of that type, for instance the ur-story that led to Snow White. When did people first start telling that tale, where, how did it spread, and why are we still telling it today? The danger in using the ATU index is that by stripping a story down to it’s bones, we lose the story, if that makes sense. The beauty of using the ATU index is that you find many, many more interconnected stories. It’s sort of a paradox. Some scholars criticize the ATU, claiming that one could take a random selection of these motifs and shuffle them to create a story and, you sort of could? That’s the beauty of the system. 

So that brings us to Jack. I feel like Jack, as in Jack of all Trades, is anything that the narrative needs him to be. As far as I can find, “Jack” is not a “tale type.” He shows up alongside any number of them-- sometimes as a trickster, sometimes as a hero, almost always as a kind of slippery character. In the first folklore post, I invested many words in exploring Dabb’s obsession with threes-- AU Michael asks three beings what they desire, asks his human victim to guess his name three times, then we follow three sleeper stories, and so on. The original TFW was three people. But Jack makes four. 

What is Jack’s story going to be?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And speaking for a sec about the origins of myth and folklore-- what about ALL OF THE OTHER PEOPLE in the world? Are they lowkey churning the matrix of reality on their own and generating their own content, like Becky and her AO3 stories and mackettes? 

*¯\_(ツ)_/¯ intensifies*

It all just feels so good at this point, even the peril that I feel surrounding Castiel.

I *think* this will be the last of the longform metas before the end of the series. I mean, I can only hope so. I’ll drop some stuff about individual episodes that might be applicable as I rewatch, and I might clean up my post about Last Call and drop it on here, but I just wanted to kind of hold this up as a mile marker before the Final Seven air.

[searchingwardrobes]

Not the Type: 2/7

Thanks again to the mods of the @captainswanmoviemarathon​ for putting this event together! Also thanks to @hookedonapirate​ for her beta skills. For my non-American readers, I hope I explained everything in this chapter, especially bust-throughs, adequately enough. I don't know that I've ever seen that aspect of cheerleading portrayed in a movie before (though I could be wrong). But if you search google images for bust-throughs, you'll see pictures of what I'm talking about.

Summary: Emma Swan first notices him in the stands at the Friday night football game. She can tell right away Killian Jones is not the football type. Then again, she’s not the cheerleader type either, but here she is with pom poms. Life hasn’t ever gone the way Emma planned. Lately, that’s actually been a good thing. Maybe Killian Jones is a good thing, too.

My loose Captain Swan AU of the movie Bring it On

Rated: T

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells​​​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​​​​ @kmomof4​​​​​ @let-it-raines​​​​ @teamhook​​​​​ @bethacaciakay​​​​​ @xhookswenchx​​​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​​ @shireness-says​​​​​ @stahlop​​​​​ @scientificapricot​​​​​ @welllpthisishappening​​​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​​​​ @thislassishooked​​​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​​ @kday426​​​​​ @ekr032-blog-blog​​​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​​​ @nikkiemms​​​​ @optomisticgirl​​​​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​​​ @carpedzem​​​​ @ohmakemeahercules​​​​​ @branlovestowrite​​​​ @superchocovian​​​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​​​​ @vvbooklady1256​​​​ @hollyethecurious​​​​​ @winterbaby89​​​​​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​​​​ @jennjenn615​​​​ @snidgetsafan​​ @spartanguard​​ @itsfabianadocarmo​​

At the next game, he wasn’t in the stands. Not that Emma was looking or anything. And she wasn’t disappointed. Nope, not at all.

“Earth to Emma!”

She jumped and turned to Ruby, who was squatting with her hands cupped in front of her. Ashley was across from the brunette, doing the same.

“We haven’t got all day,” Ruby grumbled.

“Sorry,” Emma told them hurriedly. She braced her hands on their shoulders as Ariel, her spotter, came behind her and grasped her waist. Emma jumped up into the girls’ cupped hands. They dipped with her, bending their knees together, then popped her up to chin level, with a light assist from Ariel. Behind them, another stunt group lifted Jasmine up above their heads. Down below, Mary Margaret and another girl pulled on the ropes to hoist the giant bust-through to an upright position. The bust-through they had spent hours making last Sunday afternoon, only for it to get obliterated in mere minutes. Making the bust-throughs for the game and the posters to hang around the school would take away from much needed practice time, so they came in on Sundays to do it instead. Emma had chafed at it initially - they all did, really - but the girls ended up having a blast every week. It still wasn’t fair that they were taken away from their athletic training to do 1950s crap for the boys, but oh well.

When the bust-through post was close enough, Emma grabbed it. Farther up, Jasmine held it as well. On the other side of the bust-through, the rest of the squad was doing the same. The stadium speakers suddenly thrummed with Queen’s “We Will Rock You,” and the fans surged to their feet. Below Emma, the football team thundered past with a feral yell before tearing through the yards of poster paper. Ariel braced her thighs and Emma tightened her core so she wouldn’t fall. Every damn time, she felt her life flash before her eyes. The only comfort came in her absolute trust that Ariel would catch her. She discarded the post, and behind her Ariel counted out loud, “1, 2, 3, hup!”

Ruby and Ashley bent their knees, then pushed through with their arms to pop Emma up into the air. She kept her core tight, her knees together, toes pointed, and her arms out in the shape of a “T” so the three girls could catch her neatly. It was a simple stunt, actually, and not as high or dangerous as most Emma was used to. They just didn’t usually do stunts on hard packed turf with twenty large high school boys rushing past.

Half the girls ran around as fast as possible to pick up all the bits of poster paper, while the other half hoisted up the pvc pipes they used for the posts and rolled up the ropes that held the bust-through. Those had to be reused every time.

Arms loaded with crumpled up poster paper that smelled of glue and tempera paint, Emma raced off the field as fast as she could before the opposing team came running out not caring if they bowled over a five foot five, ninety pound cheerleader.

She really hated football season.

The girls shoved the remains of the bust-through into the trash, then slid the pvc pipes and ropes underneath the bleachers to put in the cheer supply closet later. Then they lined up on the sidelines for the kickoff, their poms shaking in the air.

“Gooooooo Knights!”

Like every other game, the marching band followed the kick off with the school fight song, and Emma was busy high kicking when she saw him. Killian stood out like a sore thumb - the only one in the student section not chanting, “fight, fight, fight!” Instead, he was lounging back against the bleacher behind him, glancing around at his fellow students with a mocking expression upon his face. Emma felt her lips curl up into a smile - probably the first time she didn’t have to force one during this exhausting Rockette’s-style dance. Her legs burned as usual when the song finally ended, but it didn’t bother her quite as much when Killian caught her eye and winked. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop her smile from growing and spun away from him with a tilt to her chin.

“Push em back!” Mary Margaret, their captain, yelled. “Ready? Go!”

The girls all chanted together, going through the motions of the cheer. “Push em back, push em back, defense push em waaaaay back!” They went through it twice before efficiently moving into their stunt groups. Ruby and Ashley tossed Emma into the air this time, with Ariel giving her an extra boost. In the air, Emma twisted her body in a layout, the rush of it sending adrenaline through her veins. It only lasted a moment before her stunt group caught her in their arms, but Emma would never tire of the thrill that the brief moment of weightlessness brought her.

Emma popped out of the dismount with her arms above her head. “Go Knights!”

She never had to fake enthusiasm when she got to do a stunt like that. Her eyes caught Killian’s again. Both eyebrows arched, he managed a half bow from his seat in the stands, both arms outstretched dramatically. Emma shook her head with laughter, though his obvious admiration of her skills sent a thrill through her. Nevertheless, she rolled her eyes at him.

Just then, Emma heard the loud grunts and collisions of a particularly nasty tackle. The crowd gasped, and next to Emma, Mary Margaret dropped her pom poms.

“David!” she cried out, then her hands flew to her mouth.

Emma let out a cry too when she saw her brother lying motionless on the field. Instinctively, she reached for his girlfriend, and Mary Margaret threaded her arm through hers. The cheerleaders all took a knee, but Emma and Mary Margaret never let go of each other.

“Get up, get up,” Emma whispered.

David started moving his legs, and the girls let out a sigh of relief. He was able to get up without the aid of the coaches hovering over him, and the crowd cheered. He had a slight limp at first, but his leg must have just been stiff because his stride soon became normal. He took off his helmet and grinned and waved at the crowd. The cheerleaders stood again and waved their poms above their heads in celebration. Next to Emma, Mary Margaret was still shaking a little bit.

“He scared me to death,” she told Emma.

“I know,” Emma replied, and a shiver went down her spine as she thought about how bad it could have been. David was always pointing out that she and Mary Margaret could fall out of a stunt and break their necks just as easily as he could, but it felt different. Football injuries just felt way more common, and then there were all those retired pros with neurological problems. David said that playing at the college level was unlikely since Storybrooke High was just a double A team, and she was secretly glad. The less he smashed his brains in, the better.

David was the big brother she never knew she needed, accepting her, teasing her, and irritatingly trying to protect her from the moment her prickly thirteen year old self had arrived in his home.

He had also sat on the sidelines at how many gymnastics classes? Classes she had dreamed of taking since she watched Gabby Douglas win the Olympic gold medal on TV when she was eight years old. Then, when Emma was twelve, Simone Biles became her hero. A former foster kid winning Olympic gold? Emma didn’t think such a thing was possible, but Biles gave her hope. Then Ruth Nolan made that hope reality.

“Whatever your dreams are, Emma,” she had told her, “I’ll invest in them. It’s what a mother does.”

Emma was behind, of course. She’d had school friends as she grew up who taught her the basics on the playground - handstands, cartwheels, back walkovers. She’d even learned to do back handsprings in the backyard of one of her foster homes. Still, her goal to make the high school gymnastics team seemed almost impossible. Then she read about Misty Copeland, the star principal dancer for the American Ballet Theater who didn’t start dancing until . . . thirteen. Surely, if she could defy the common thought that girls had to start ballet at three or four to achieve greatness, then Emma could defy the same thought in gymnastics. And with the support of Ruth and David, she had. She’d made the gymnastics team as a freshman at Storybrooke High.

Then, after one amazing season on the team, they had received the devastating news: the state of Maine was cutting high school gymnastics completely. Ignorant politicians spun it, of course. There would still be a state meet each year where gymnasts would represent their schools in individual competition. It would just be privatized, the politicians explained, saving taxpayers thousands of dollars. Privatized was a fancy way of saying that only gymnasts in clubs at private gyms could compete. Clubs that cost an extravagant amount of money. Money that Ruth Nolan simply didn’t have.

And that was how Emma Swan ended up a cheerleader.

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

“You and Mary Margaret still wanna stay over at my house?” Ruby asked after the game as she slung her cheer bag over one shoulder.

“Of course we do,” Mary Margaret replied. “Right Emma?”

“Yeah sure,” Emma said vaguely as she pulled the rubber band out of her hair and shook out the loose waves. Cheer ponytails were so tight they gave her a headache. Of course, as a gymnast, she’d had to put her hair in an equally tight, equally hairsprayed bun. She rubbed at her scalp. Maybe she should chop her hair off like Mary Margaret. No, scratch that, she didn’t have the flawless skin and cherubic face to pull that off like MM did.

“Are you sure?” Ruby asked with a glint in her eyes. “Killian lives there now, you know.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m familiar with what a foster brother is. Of course I know he lives with you.”

“Just wanted to be sure you could handle the sexual tension,” Ruby said, bumping Emma teasingly with her hip as they headed to the parking lot.

“For the last time, there is no sexual tension between me and Killian!”

“You did have cheer sex with him.”

“Mary Margaret! I thought you didn’t buy into that crap!”

“Did I just say that out loud?” MM’s face was crimson.

Ruby threw her head back and guffawed. “Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, Emma.”

“God, if you two don’t stop . . . I’ll . . . I’ll . . .”

“You’ll what?”

Emma grasped for a good threat. “Smother you with a pom pom!” she finally blurted out, waving the one she still grasped in her hand in Ruby’s face.

MM literally collapsed against the side of Ruby’s car in hysterics, and even Emma lost it. It wasn’t really that funny, but they were all simultaneously exhausted and electrified from the game. Once they calmed down, they tossed their stuff in Ruby’s trunk. There was only a pleasant chill to the air this early in the season, so Ruby put the top of her convertible down, and Emma leaned contentedly against the headrest as the wind rushed past. The football team had won tonight’s game, and there was a spirit of celebration in the air as Ruby drove through the parking lot and out onto the street in front of Storybrooke High. When kids and even adults noticed a red convertible with three cheerleaders in red and white, they raised their fists in the air and shouted, “Go knights!”

“You know, it would mean a lot more if they were cheering for our victory instead of someone else’s,” Ruby commented dryly as they cruised through Storybrook’s only light after it turned green.

Mary Margaret leaned between them from the backseat, which surprised Emma, since the brunette was usually all “safety first.”

“Well, that’s all gonna change come December 5th ladies when we-”

Ruby lifted one fist in the air as she joined Mary Margaret in her cry of, “TAKE STATE!!!”

“Now wait a second, slow down,” Emma cautioned. “We have to place at regionals first.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Please, Emma, Storybrooke has dominated regionals since we were all in kindergarten.”

“Well, if there’s one thing gymnastics has taught me, it’s to not get cocky, so don’t jinx it, okay?”

“We also need to have confidence,” Mary Margaret added, giving Emma’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Confidence, not pride. Now sit back and put on your damn seat belt.”

“Intense much, Emma?”

Ruby tilted her chin and practically howled at the moon. “Someone needs to. GET. LAID.”

Emma lunged over and clapped her hand over Ruby’s mouth before she could add anything further. “Don’t. Say it.”

“God, Emma, she’s driving!”

Ruby pinched Emma in the side with her free hand, sending the blonde jerking back to the passenger’s side. “Why Emma, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

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

Killian Jones knew that Emma Swan was just down the hall from his bedroom - keenly aware of it. Just as he had been aware of her since the night he’d first seen her. He had been completely honest when he told her that it was her expression and not her body that had drawn him in. If he’d wanted to ogle enticing figures in short skirts, he would have just been staring at the entire squad since the game started. But it was Emma Swan’s clearly irritated, flashing green eyes that had managed to tear his gaze away from Tolkien. He wasn’t sure what she had against the marching band’s rendition of “Louie, Louie,” but the hatred clearly ran deep.

He clenched his jaw as laughter floated down the hall from Ruby’s room, and he adjusted the knobs on his guitar effects pedal to distract him. Granny had been abundantly clear that he was to stay far away from Ruby’s friends.

He was a little offended at Granny’s lecture, to be honest. As if he were a dog in heat unable to ignore the scent of females.

Killian strummed his electric, then adjusted the feedback again. Halfway through Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy,” he’d pushed thoughts of Emma Swan far away.

Until he glanced up in the middle of a frankly ridiculous, out of control guitar solo to find her standing there in his doorway, slack-jawed and staring. She was tantalizing in a teeny, tiny pair of shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top, her blonde hair piled up on her head in a messy bun. He managed not to drop his guitar and flashed her a lopsided grin as he continued to play.

“Emma!”

The girl in question jumped a foot in the air, clutching her hands that held a purple toothbrush to her chest. “Shit, Ruby!”

“What are you doing?” Killian’s foster sibling asked from the hallway.

“I, uh . . . went to brush my teeth.”

“Um, the bathroom is that way.”

“Right, right, I knew that,” Emma mumbled.

Killian winked at her before she scurried away, still strumming. So maybe he wasn’t the only one who felt the delicious tension between them. This was a pleasant turn of events . . .

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

Emma grumbled at herself under her breath as she squirted toothpaste onto her toothbrush. She couldn’t believe Killian had caught her staring - practically drooling - over him. The way he’d smirked at her as he continued to play left no question that he knew she was checking him out. She was pretty sure Ruby knew it, too. Yet in her defense, how was a girl supposed to ignore an attractive guy when he was playing the guitar?

Emma started to brush, a little too vigorously at first. She was irritated with herself, but she didn’t need to scrub her gums raw, so she slowed down. She almost jumped out of her skin when Killian came through the open bathroom door behind her, but she calmed herself before he noticed. He winked at her as he retrieved his toothbrush from the cup by the sink and got some toothpaste. Emma arched a brow at him as she continued to brush. Somehow, the idiot managed to smile at her charmingly even as he worked the toothbrush around his mouth. She rolled her eyes and looked at her reflection instead, but that didn’t work either. His gaze only found her reflection in the mirror, and he waggled his eyebrows at her. She almost choked on her toothpaste.

Then he spit, rinsed, and ran his hand across his mouth in exaggerated, satisfied fashion. “Ahh,” he said, then bowed to her and left.

Emma scowled at her own reflection in the mirror. Stupid attractive eyebrows. No one was supposed to look that good brushing his teeth. She finished brushing, rinsed, then headed back down the hall to Ruby’s room. Her friends stopped chatting the minute she walked in.

“What?”

Ruby arched a brow. “Please, Emma. I caught you drooling over Killian when you were supposed to be brushing your teeth.”

Mary Margaret pointed an accusing finger. “And you’re smiling.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she tossed her toothbrush into her overnight bag. “So I’m smiling. So what?”

“So, you don’t normally walk around smiling. It’s not the natural resting state of your face.”

Emma laughed as she plopped down on Ruby’s bed with her friends and grabbed some potato chips. “The natural resting state of my face?”

“Yeah,” Ruby explained. “Take MM here. She naturally smiles. Just walks around smiling. You - not so much.”

“Okay, fine,” Emma muttered around a chip, “so I think he’s cute. Are you happy now?”

“Very.”

Emma lifted a hand the minute she saw Mary Margaret’s face. “I think he’s cute. That’s it. I’m not saying I like him or that I want to date him, just that objectively I can admit he’s cute.”

“Puppies are cute, Emma,” Mary Margaret pointed out, “that guy in there is not just cute.”

“How is he your foster brother anyway, Ruby?” Emma asked, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere else.

“Oh, that. Well, Granny knew his mom from way back. They used to come visit every summer when we were kids. Anyways, when Killian’s dad left, he asked if she’d take him.”

Emma blinked. “Wait, his dad just dumped him here? And where’s his mom?”

“She died of cancer a few years back.” Ruby shrugged. “And I don’t know, his dad wanted to go back to England or something. Killian gets pissed whenever I bring him up, so I’m not really sure. He has a brother too, but Liam’s in the Navy.”

Emma fell silent as she grabbed more chips. As she munched, she tried to imagine being sent to a new town, new school so your dad could . . . what? Live his own life with no responsibilities? It was pretty screwed up.

The sound of an electric guitar filled the apartment above Granny’s diner once again, and Ruby let out a huff of frustration as she stomped to her door.

“Kill, seriously? Can you stop with the guitar already?”

“I live here too,” Killian shouted back.

“Both of you shut up so I can sleep,” Granny yelled at them both.

Mary Margaret and Emma caught each other’s eye and burst out laughing. Ruby groaned then slammed the door shut.

“I’m serious, Emma. If he starts dating you, maybe he won’t be around here so much, driving me insane!”

“That’s not very romantic, Rubes,” MM scolded.

“And remember, Emma Swan doesn’t date.”

“Emma Swan needs to stop referring to herself in the third person.”

Emma didn’t have her poms anymore, so she threw a pillow at Ruby’s head instead.

[bandzrus]

The No Fun Tour (Part 16)

The Dirt!Tommy Lee x Reader

Masterlist

SUMMARY // You’ve been working as a roadie for Motley Crue for a number of years because of your interest in the music business and family connections with Doc.  The boys just got off tour with Ozzy and things are looking promising for them.  After babysitting Tommy for the last leg of the tour, the two of you admitted your feelings for one another.  Your relationship is now out in the open, and you’re still trying to adjust.

NOTE // well this chapter took me waaaaay too long to write.  I’m also not very happy with it, but it’s a filler chapter so I’ll live a guess. Only 4 more until TNFT is over! Crazy right?

WORDS // 2897

TAGLIST // @mainly-me @shamelessobsessions @broken-pieces  @calspixie  @shouttatthedevill  @cigarettes-after-sexxx  @thatbandchick39  @buckyofthemyscira  @countrygirlswonderland  @kawennote09 @tommyfuckinlee @miserablecunt @madsthegroupie  @livingforrt  @catsoo12 @whisky-a-go-go @motherloovebone @rysepieces98  @kickstartmyheartmc  @voguesixx @marvelismylifffe @iluvmesomemarvelndc @princesof-theuniverse @cordysblog  @everygoodusernameistaken16  @brooklyn-antiques  @queens-rose-garden  @fandomshit6000  @hxllywood-whxre  @ladycrow666 @sandy-anakin  @tamedhearts  @cosmicsskies @repostsfanfics  @bella-0104-123  @mustbeaweasleyginger  @freddie-roger-brian-john  @captainloki1 @divaanya  @curlyrxth  @krazykatkay456  @ratedrkohardychic91  @bohemian-war @whydoilooklikekurtcobain @xxchloejoe @imtrashlikeeveryoneelse @nassauartist @teddyboyharrison @anxieteaandsadboihours @thekidbakerinthetardis  @bohorhap  @allmyheart2 @darcytherandom @kitten-overdose @allie-mcginn @aliensforleaders  @premiumcable  @snitchthewitch  @heavymetalprincessa  @applcrumbl @pixrcethesirens @samantha2247-blog @goodoldfashionedqueen @sweetdayme4427 @writingmyanxietiesaway  @therocketqueensaje  @swoopygorl @chasityquinn  @yesloverboy  @scarecrowmax @vintageratdoctor @imtheonetheycalldrfeelgood @supertravelerofbothtimespacefan @totallynotkaibiased @anxious-diabetic @liebe-ist-ein-wildes-tier @perriwiinkle @itsametaphorbriansblog  @juliarose21  @superstitiousinstincts  @angstydogblog  @99percentsure  @knightwhosaysnii  @motleybitxh @littlesunnymoon  @joes-milk  @everlinachevalier  @vnathaliexisabelv  @slowandangry @floregrohlssard @thoughtfullyscreechingphantom @thanks2pete  @crazysaladchopshop  @grungegirlfungirl  @killer-queen-ofrhye  @countryday @zoe0401 @lighthousefromthesea @mgirl08  @momothepeachgirl  @luv4fandoms @katysfunsized @snatchedbylele @weakmoony-stuff @keepcalm-and-beyou @sincereleygmg @samanthadegaro  @isabellarose5150  @letslyn @iwanttoberogersdrums @hailey-the-heathen @falcon-arrows @iiwontgiveuponmilkk @saturatedsunrise99 @fayereed15 @random-internet-user-4471 @high-voltage-rockandroll @defin8lyhetero @am-tired-bois  @thexbasketcase  @terminallydisorganised  @samanddeanstolethetardis221b  @samanthaofanarchy  @cruebaby @ panics-at-the-everywhere @myheartdesirepure @volcaniccth  @babypink224221  @tommy-lee-81 @oh-well1  @rosie-sixx  @softommy @its-hope-babe  @florenceivy  @anotherhopefulgirl  @lain-ee @star-incandescent   @sharon6713  @irishhiggins  @obsessivecompulsivedestructive @verywell-fandango  @valentines-in-london @ggore-horror  @samanthajbenbow  @freddiessmallnipples  @d0ntfitin @vamprlestat  @yourfavbabymom  @lauravic @the-soulless-spider @kellysimagines @princesadeltoro  @kajk9727  @looksthatkill666  @rocknrollcantdie  @kohanayaki @letdecemberburninflames  @fanofnightz  @leterscam @impartinghades @forthe-culture  @blackrose8898  @chlobo6 @gnrskrt  @tommyleeownsme  @anyasthoughts @keithseabrook27  @nikki-six-is-daddy  @phoenixbloodmoon  @madeofsunshineandsugar  @imgonnakillgod  @yellow--inlove  @accio--jesse @babybloomer  @no-shxt-sherl​ ((sorry for not activating any of the tags; I had to remake this whole post and it takes FOREVER))

***

              You couldn’t wrap your head around it.  It had been days and you still couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you and Tommy had been given the clear.  It didn’t feel real.  Which was funny in and of itself, because when did you and Tommy dating in secret start to feel real?  It was just strange to think that the two of you could go out or talk about whatever you wanted and not have to watch yourselves.  You didn’t have to worry about how much physical contact you were making, or how long Tommy was staring at you anymore.  You could just… hold hands whenever you freaking felt like it.

              Which you did.  A lot.

              So much so that Mick started making gagging noises whenever the two of you walked into the recording booth.  The boys had been going in to record more and more lately, and you kept coming along for the ride.  It was an easy way to spend time with them, since your time together with Motley Crue was going to be coming to an end in a month and a half.  You’d still see them, just not nearly as much as you had in the past. It was going to be weird.  Just as weird as you and Tommy being out and official.

                “I was going to go out for coffee, you boys want anything?” you asked, leaning your hip on the doorframe of the recording room.  Motley Crue was crowded onto the couches around a shrine of empty bottles, cans, ashtrays, fast-food wrappers, and scribbly lyric sheets. Tommy leaned backward over the back of the couch and gave you a big smile.

              “Tall, black?” he said.

              “Of course.”

              “Can you do a booze run too, Y/N?” asked Vince.  He draped his arm over the back of the couch and tried to imitate Tommy’s signature puppy dog eyes.  You always pictured the blond more as a scraggly cat.

              “It’s 2pm Vince.”

              “So?”

              “It’s 5 o’clock somewhere!” Nikki said in an attempt to convince you.  He still had a half-full bottle in his hand.

              “The coffee shop is 5 minutes away, the liquor store is 20,” you sighed.

              “Ah, come on, Y/N, please?” begged Vince.  At this point in your career, you should have been invincible to the band’s pouting.  But you weren’t.  You let out a sigh.

              “Fine.  Just beer?”

              “Daniels.”

              “Anything else?”

              “My groceries?” asked Mick, before he stopped himself.  “Wait, never mind.  Your hands have been on Tommy, I don’t want you contaminating my food.”

              The band laughed.

              “So tall black coffee, beer, and Daniels – got it,” you repeated, smiling at Mick’s tease anyway.

              “Oh!” Nikki shot up.  “If that guy down the street is selling hot dogs—“

              “Fuck yeah, dude, those are killer ‘dogs!”

              “Get the ‘dogs!”

              “The ‘dogs!  The ‘dogs! The ‘dogs!” the boys all started to chant.  Laughing, you pulled your hip off the doorframe.

              “Tall black coffee, beer, Daniels, and ‘dogs; I’ll be back,” you chuckled, giving them a wave and then sliding out of the building.  You shook your head and smiled to yourself.  Every damn day you spent with those boys they made you laugh.  Tucking your hair behind your ear, you headed towards the coffee shop.  The hotdog stand was on the way, and you prayed the guy was actually there today.  You knew what kind of wrath you’d face if you came back empty-handed.

              As you walked, you realized Tommy hadn’t offered to come with.  Usually he’d abandon whatever the boys were working on to tag along with you.  They had been working pretty hard on their new album (which sounded amazing, and they still had a long way to go), so maybe he just wanted to stay and work on it, but now that you’d thought about it, it was going to nag you.  Was something going on?  You’d spent enough time with Motley Crue to pick up signs that they were planning something.  

                Back in the recording studio, Tommy and the boys waited until you had left before they all huddled around the table.

              “So what’s the game plan, T-bone?” asked Nikki, taking a quick swig of his drink and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  Mick pulled his guitar into his lap.

              “When she comes backs,” said Tommy, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Vinny, can you introduce the song?”

              “Hell yeah.”

              “Sweet.”

              “Are we just going to start playing it then when Y/N comes through the door?” Mick cocked an eyebrow.

              “That was the thought.”

              “You have those?”

              Vince and Nikki laughed and then Vince slapped the drummer on the back.

              “It’s going to be great, Tommy, she’s gonna love it,” promised the singer.

              “I fucking hope so, otherwise I’m going to look like a dumbass!”

              “I think Y/N is into dumbasses.”

              “Shut up, Mick.”

              You’d overestimated how far away the liquor store was.  It was probably more like 15 minutes; 10 from the coffee shop. Any normal person probably would have felt weird carrying a large coffee, three bottles of Jack Daniels, and a case of beer all together, but you were used to it.  The hotdog guy obviously wasn’t bothered by it either. Coffee and case of beer in one hand, bag of Jack Daniels and hotdogs in the other, you somehow managed to get the studio door open with your foot.

              “I’m back,” you called, waiting for it to shut before you headed to the recording room.  You were trying to make sure you didn’t trip over any empty bottles and spill everything you were precariously balancing in your arms, when Vince’s voice got your attention.

              “And next up we have a song called ‘Without You’,” the singer announced. “Written by Mr. Tommy Lee for the lovely Y/F/N.”  He gave you a huge smile, and then a big sweeping gesture.  You stood there in the doorway, cradling hotdogs as all the boys began to play.

 Without you, there's no change

My nights and days are gray

If I reached out and touched the rain

It wouldn't feel the same

 Without you, I'd be lost

I'd slip down from the top

I'd slide down so low

Girl, you'd never, never know

 Without you, without you

A sailor lost at sea

Without you, woman

The world comes down on me

                They all joined in for the chorus, and maybe it was just you, but Tommy was singing the loudest.  You had been pestering him to sing more (ever since Gilligan’s Island), and in that moment it was the sweetest thing you’d ever heard.  Vince might have been singing the rest of the song, but when you saw Tommy, you knew it was really him singing it to you.

 Without you in my life I'd slowly wilt and die But with you by my side You're the reason I'm alive But with you in my life You're the reason I'm alive But without you, without you

 Without you, there's no change My nights and days are gray If I reached out and touched the rain It wouldn't feel the same

 Without you, without you I'm a sailor lost at sea Without you, woman The world comes down on me

                You were crying.  There in the hallway with your arms full of booze, coffee, and hotdogs, you were crying. You weren’t a crier, but this was the song Mick had told you about over the phone that night after the tour. This was the song Tommy had been working on.  This was the one song you hadn’t heard them play yet and now you knew why.

 Without you in my life

I'd slowly wilt and die

But with you by my side

You're the reason I'm alive

But with you in my life

You're the reason I'm alive

But without you, without you

 I could face a mountain

But I could never climb alone

I could start another day

But how many, I don't know

 You're the reason, the sun shines down

And the nights, they don't grow cold

Only you that I'll hold when I'm young

Only you, as we grow old

 Without you in my life

I'd slowly wilt and die

But with you by my side

You're the reason I'm alive

                In most cases you watched the whole band when they performed.  But right now you had eyes only for Tommy. He wasn’t looking as his drums either; just at you.  As the song wound down, you finally remembered you had stuff in your arms and quickly deposited it on what available table space there was.  Your hands were free just as Vince put down the mic.

              “Oh my god!” you cried, hastily scrubbing your cheeks with the backs of your hands.  “Did you write that, Tommy?!”  You knew he had, but nothing could have prepared you for this.

              The drummer had put down his drumsticks and was making his way over to you when you threw your arms around him.

              “Did you seriously write that?  It’s beautiful!”

              “Yeah,” said Tommy, blushing.  His hands felt warm around your waist.

              “Tommy it’s amazing!”  You planted a kiss on him.

              “I wrote it for you.”

              And there it was again.  Every DAMN time!  You didn’t think you could love him any more and then he did something and somehow you did. For fucks sake he wrote a song about you!  Not only was it the most romantic thing anybody had ever done for you EVER, you knew from years of experience with music that once somebody wrote a song about you – you became immortal.

              “Holy shit Tommy, I can’t believe it.”

              “So you liked it then?”

              “Liked it?!  Tommy, I swear to god there is NOTHING that could make me love you more right now.”

              The drummer finally stopped fighting the smile he had been holding back.

              “Wanna bet?”

              “GET A ROOM!” shouted Mick, causing the both of you to start laughing. Still hugging the drummer for all you were worth, you shuffled over to the couch where the rest of the band was congregating.

              “I can’t believe you guys did that for me,” you breathed, wiping your nose and smiling up at Tommy.  “I can’t believe you wrote the song, AND made me walk 15 minutes to the damn liquor store just so you could surprise me with a concert when I got back!”

              The boys all chuckled and ducked their heads.  They looked so cute and suddenly you were struck with a wave of sadness.  You were going to miss them all so much.

              “It was all Tommy’s idea,” Mick confessed.  “We just went along with it ‘cause we knew it’d make you happy.”

              “Since Mick’s not gonna say it,” sighed Vince.  “We’re all really going to miss you, Y/N.”

              It was your turn to laugh, but you could tell the blond caught the tinge of sadness in it.

              “I’m not gone yet, guys.”

              “Not to ruin this touching moment or anything, but you got the ‘dogs right?” Nikki asked, sliding back onto the couch.  Everyone started laughing and you could feel the sadness leave the room again.

              “Right in front of you, Nik,” Tommy gestured, his hand still resting warmly on your waist.

                Motley Crue had finished their studio session about an hour ago.  All the guys went their separate ways, but Tommy suggested the two of you go for a walk instead of just heading home right away. The air was fresh and it was still light out, plus it was quality time with the drummer.  Hell yes you wanted to go for a walk.

              Somehow being on tour had made you forget how much you loved LA.  You’d spent a lot of time walking the streets in the early days of Motley Crue.  There were so many beautiful houses and little stores that showed off just how unique a place it really was.  It didn’t surprise you at all that so many people came here to follow their dreams – there was something for everyone.  You smiled inwardly knowing you were one of them, and you’d succeeded. It was almost a little scary how perfect your life seemed right now.  A tiny part of you was waiting for the hammer to drop, but you kept reminding yourself that it already had when Doc found out about you and Tommy.  

              You and the drummer had been walking probably for an hour when you came upon a park.  It was getting late, the sun was going down, and the park was empty.

              “Wanna sit down for a bit?” Tommy asked, eyeing up a bench.

              “Only if we get to sit on the playground,” you smiled, tugging at his jacket to follow you.

              “Are we five?”

              “Maaaaybe.”

              It had been a long time since you’d been on a playground.  You’d always been a monkey-bar fiend as a kid and you made a mental note for later to see if you still were.  Clambering up, you laughed as Tommy tried to scale the fire-pole in leather pants and cowboy boots.  Finally you had to give him a hand.  Hauling his dumbass up, the two of you sat on the highest platform and leaned against the rail.

              “The sunset looks cool,” you pointed out.  The clouds were all pink, and just where the buildings interrupted the horizon, the sky was liquid fire.

              “You look pretty cool,” mocked Tommy, bumping your knee with his.  The fucker was so damn cute.  You snuggled into his side and pushed your hand into his. How insane was this.

              “I still can’t believe this is all happening,” you said, finally voicing what had been circulating around in your head since your conversation with Doc.

              “The us-allowed-to-date part, or the management part?”

              “Both.”

              “Yeah, it is kinda insane,” agreed Tommy, resting his head again the rail and looking up at the sky.  You wished you had your camera on you – he looked beautiful.

              “It doesn’t really feel real.  I keep waiting for the hammer to drop or for me to wake up or something.”

              “Me too.”

              “I’m glad it is real.”

              “I really don’t know if I could survive if it wasn’t,” Tommy said.  His chin came to rest on top of your head and you wanted to sit there forever with him.  He smelled good; like Tommy.  The two of you watched the sky for a while, enjoying the quiet; something that didn’t happen often in Motley Crue, until Tommy broke the silence.

              “Did you really like the song?” he asked, rubbing his thumb in circles over your hand.  The look you gave him should have said it all.

              “Tommy, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

              “You really mean that?”

              “One-hundred and ten percent.”

              “Mkay.  Just wanted to make sure,” the drummer blushed.

              “If I kiss you, will you stop doubting yourself like an idiot?” you inquired, leaning in until there was barely an inch between your lips.

              “Yes,” promised Tommy.

              So you did.  Gentle and tender; probably the softest you’d ever kissed him.  Reaching your hands up to his hair, you felt the drummer’s rough ones pull you close.  And then you kissed him again – longer this time (and maybe a little harder).  You could feel him smile into it.  Shifting so you could get a better angle, it wasn’t long before the whole thing turned into a damn make-out session.  After a few minutes you had to pull back and laugh.

              “Oh my god,” you snickered.  “I feel like I’m in fucking high school.”

              “It’s the playground.”

              “No, it’s us making out like a bunch of idiots.”

              “Does that mean you wanna stop?”

              “Fuck no.”

              Straddling Tommy’s lap, it was your turn to smile into the kiss.  Making a cute little noise as Tommy’s kisses moved from your lips down your jawbone, you settled into his lap.  The drummer’s lips were still heading south, and you shuddered under the touch of his fingers as they tugged at your collar.

              “Tommy,” you mumbled, brushing your hair out of his way.

              “Mm?”

              “What are you doing?”

              The drummer stopped his kisses for a brief moment to answer, but his hands were starting to lift up the hem of your shirt.

              “Nothing.”

              Your hands were knit deep in his hair, and it was taking a bit more concentration than it should have to keep quiet.  The LA air was starting to cool off and as it hit your skin, you felt yourself break out in goosebumps.  Tommy’s warm knuckles against your stomach as he felt under your shirt were a welcome feeling.  That and the drummer knew what to do with his damn hands.

              “Tommy,” you tried again, feeling your willpower to say no to him decrease by the second.  “We probably shouldn’t be doing this at a park.”

              “Mm, but doesn’t it make you feel like just a little bit of a rebel?” asked the drummer, his hands getting dangerously high and his lips dangerously low.

              “I’ve been a rebel for a long time.”

              “I guess so – you decided to go out with me.”

              “Yes.”

              “Do you wanna –“ he paused for a moment, finally bringing his lips back to yours.  “—go back to my place?”

              To answer his question, you sank a little lower into his lap.

              “I’ll take that as a yes,” Tommy smirked, grabbing your hand and pulling you down the slide.

***

sorry guys!  I don’t know what happened to this post - it was fine up until December 8th.  Hopefully it stays put now.  :(

[tcthinecwnself-a]

Get To Know The Mun!

REPOST DON’T REBLOG

———  BASICS! ♡

(PEN)NAME: Peggy

PRONOUNS: she / her / 

ZODIAC SIGN:  Aquarius 

TAKEN OR SINGLE: single, but talking to people here & there

———  THREE  FACTS! ♡

You know Triston from Yugioh Abridged?? I can do a solid impersonation of his voice. It started out just as me and my sister joking around, but we were pretty shocked when I did so good at doing his voice. The voice of super strength. 

I’m studying to be a professional animator & storyteller! And I’m applying for summer internships left and right. Kind of stressful, but at least I’m doing what I love.

I’m a cosplayer! I’ve got almost 8 homemade or purchased cosplays under my belt. It’s really fun & I love dressing up as characters. 

———  EXPERIENCE! ♡

so i can’t really say I’ve been roleplaying since 2013, but I had a young Elsa & Vanellope blog waaaaay back in 2014. Yata, yata, stuff happened & I dropped tumblr for a while. Then Sing came around in 2017 and I hopped right back to it! I’m super thankful for everyone being patient with me in my earlier years. Especially when I wasn’t the best writer, but I think I’ve gotten much better over the years! I’ve also written a few drabbles just for myself to learn character mannerisms and stuff. But heck! I’d say 5 years of experience is pretty great!

———  MUSE  PREFERENCE! ♡

 I’m always more attracted to male muses than female muses. I’ve been trying to balance it out, but male muses are where I thrive! It might be because I was cast in way more male roles in theater productions, or because male characters are (unfairly) better written than most female characters. But apart from gender, I really get attached to dad characters, characters with abandonment issues, characters with repressed feelings, and all around goofball characters. I try to stay away from IRL horror stuff, but things like Hazbin, Helluva, & Villainous don’t bother me too much. I can handle cartoons. 

———  FLUFF / ANGST / SMUT! ♡    

FLUFF: fluff! who doesn’t love it! More present on my blog than it used to be tbh and i’m really happy about it! I love all the silly & fun character interactions I’m getting now-a-days. 

ANGST: absolute sucker for it!!! I could do angst all day tbh, I love, conflict between muses, or hurt/comfort, or really anything. Long paragraph angst is something I absolutely adore. It’ll never get old

SMUT: definitely more comfortable with it than I used to be! Though it’s still rare here, I’m getting more comfortable with writing sexy time headcanons & the occasional sexy ic stuff. Of course, it’s is a solid line of only writing it with muns im comfortable with. 

PLOT / MEMES: I can and will come into your IMs and yell multiparagraph headcanons at my friends. Plotting is WHERE IT’S AT my dudes. I have plots with my mutuals that we haven’t even written out yet publicly, but they are there and I love them so very much. I love crafting whole-ass stories in IMs. As for memes! Heck yeah I love memes!! I’m not very good at sending them, especially to people I haven’t interacted with in a while, but I’m gonna try to get better at it. But my inbox is ALWAYS open for memes.

tagged by: @lloronala​

tagging: steal it from me if you’d like to!

[leafenclaw]

OTP Playlist Tag

Tagged by @raeofalbion​ for any ship of mine. Thank you. ^^

Rules: create a five song playlist for one of your OTPs.

Tagging: Whoever wants to do it! =) @theteadetective​ and @sunnymentalist​ if you’re up for it? If not, it’s not a problem. ^^

So. Uhm. I’m sorry, I’m going to have to bend the rules a little because while I can certainly give you a list of five songs, they aren’t... well. I think we talked about how my hellbrain processes human voice as just another instrument (especially when it’s not in my native language), so I almost never bother with lyrics because I often cannot hear them?

Plus, songs to me are fluid, movement, so trying to make them fit a character (a static entity when on its own) makes no sense, unless we’re talking about how a character reacts. And then it’s not about the character anymore, it’s about how they react/interact with life, it becomes tied to the moment and events. 

Which means I don’t have ship playlists. Sorry. I’m just not wired that way.

What I do have is (extremely small) story playlists. But as pointed out above, I cannot pick them based on the lyrics, so instead I choose them based on the emotions they make me feel, and how well their colours match the story I’m trying to tell.

Good news is, I can show you. Sort of.

(First of all, necessary disclaimer: those pictures are composites made of several other pictures blended in Photoshop. I don’t own anything, and moreover I cannot credit anyone because I saved them years ago and didn’t keep the source, sorry. But they’re probably all very easy to find through a “fractal” search on google.)

So, ship! Sherlock and Jamie from Elementary, since they’re one of the two ships I have enough songs for to answer. Top picture is the colours they make together in my mind. On the left, Sherlock on his own, and on the right, Jamie. You can probably see a bit of what they bring to the ship colours individually. ^^

So, moving to the point of this post...

These are the colours I am trying to achieve on a story I started working on last summer. I gave it like five different temporary titles so even if I told you the one it has now, it probably wouldn’t tell you anything. XD But there’s bits and pieces of it scattered all over my “Six Sentences Sunday” tag if you're curious.

To pick songs that will fit a story, I hold all those colours together in my mind, and try to find songs that will match close enough both visually (with the colours) and emotionally (for the story’s overall mood <= based on how the song makes me feel rather than what it’s about, because very often what it’s about actually clashes with what I get from it).

For this story, so far I have:

“Paint it, Black”, cover by Ciara Dark purples and oranges on black background, with a few bright yellow... shooting stars? Fireworks? They move across the other colours quickly and leave a bit of a trail that fades eventually.

“Waves”, cover by We Are Sheppard Dark blue and purple, with flecks of yellowish white spiralling up and down the shapes, as if someone was moving a flashlight around and it caught on small patches of reflective fabric. (The original version of this song doesn’t have any yellow at all and a lot less purple, hence why I prefer this version for that story.)

“Someone You Loved”, instrumental cover by The Piano Guys White and very light yellow, with drops of red, blue, and green falling here and there, making concentric circles in the white/yellow shapes.

Unfortunately that would be all for that story, because I usually put a single song on repeat until I’m done. x) So, another one...

This is what I’m trying to get the PWP I’ve been working on to look like. I think I might have mentioned it before? It’s the one that accidentally grew a bit of plot (and waaaaay too many words) and is set between 7x12 and 7x13.

For this one I have:

“Lovestoned”, cover by Kaki King Grey-ish yellow thin/translucent shapes moving in an almost mechanical rhythm over a dark green fading to black background.

“Places Through Which We Move”, by R. Lacy and J.A. Thomas Starts bright yellow, slowly fades into a light green, then keeps evolving into a light blue that darkens to royal blue, and then back to dark teal until the song is over, with white sparkles coming and going like sunlight reflecting on water.

Bonus: “Final Conversation”, by The Butterfly Effect

I almost didn’t add this one because the lyrics actually fit too much for this story, except not in the way they seem at first glance (it has nothing to do with Sherlock’s bruised feelings re: Jamie’s behaviour), and also it’s 100% a coincidence because as usual I didn’t initially listen to the lyrics. But since I had already shared “Waves” with you last time we talked music, I sort of owed you one more.

Free yourself And cut away these ties You can go anywhere now Be anyone you want to be

Just stay tonight and never leave 'Cause in the morning we're going home Just stay here

The night could fall all over me And when it's over just let me go The night could fall all over me 'Cause in the morning we're going home

[cassercole]

12/12

I was tagged by the @mystic-scripture​ @ofbadchoices​ @foxesandmagic​ and @iceandwaterfairytail​! 

Rules: Answer 12 questions from the point of view of one of your OCs, ask 12 questions, tag 12 people. (I’ll be answering as Dawson, Q, Molly and Kitty!)

DAWSON:

1. What is your Favorite Book?: 

I haven’t read a book since the third grade.

2. Are you more of a talker or a listener?:

Depends on who you ask

3. What five movies best describe your personality?:

Die Hard is the only movie that matters. 

4. What do you look for in a Significant Other?: 

Someone’s who not a fucking idiot. So options are limited. 

5. Who in your life (outside of family) inspires you?:

Oh Jesus Christ...

6. What is your Biggest Pet Peeve?:

People asking stupid questions..........

7. Do you agree with your JK Rowling sorting, or do you feel like you belong in a different one?:

Ugh, did Q put you up to this?? One time she made me take one of those stupid quizzes and it said I was a Slytherin?? I don’t even know what that means but Q didn’t like it very much.

8. Marvel or DC and why?: 

What the fuck is Marvel? 

9. What is your go to take out order when you’re home alone?

Pizza. Hot wings. Beer. Sometimes cheese fries...

10. Do you like the transitional Seasons (Spring/ Fall) or the Full-Blown Seasons (Summer/ Winter)?

Anything but winter. Fuck that season, man. 

11. What is one thing you try to hide about yourself in a first impression?:

Literally why do you need to know

12. Where do you feel the most at home/safest to be yourself?

At my terminal. 

Q:

1. What would be your perfect afternoon?

Laying on the couch, no pants, no bra, with that morning’s newspaper open to the crossword puzzle (it’s an easy one), Steve making his infamous club sandwiches, the record player playing one of our favorite records. And it’s sunny, but not too bright.   

2. What’s your favorite music genre?:

Living with Steve has made it so I listen to a little bit of everything (the guy’s missed out on waaaaay too much) but whenever I’m alone, I always turn on some classic alternative rock from the nineties. 

3.  If you had to describe yourself in one word, what would it be and why?:

Stupid. Not like intelligence-wise, but just generally. 

4. What is your favorite foreign food? (Foreign to the country you were born)

Oh I’m a big fan pirogies. Ate a lot of those while we were in the Ukraine. Fucking love those potato stuffed pillows of heaven.  

5. Would you want to become famous? Why? If so, what would you like to be known for?: 

Hell no. I’m already famous enough for helping take down SHIELD, becoming an enemy of the state after saving Bucky, and being related to the Winter Soldier. I’m good, thanks. 

6. Do you think legacies are important?

Yes and no. I think it’s important to understand where you came from and who they were. But I don’t think it matters once you begin to figure yourself out. You’re your own person. 

7. Would you ever adopt?

I wish I could say yes without pause. Cause what with Steve and his super soldier-ness, we aren’t even sure he can have kids. So clearly adoption would be our best option, but like...I have my concerns. 

8. What is your favorite “unusual” animal? As in, an animal that people don’t talk about often:

PEOPLE NEED TO TALK MORE ABOUT JELLYFISH, OKAY?!

9. Do you enjoy museums? If so, what type of museums?

Love museums. Could spend hours in them. I’ve spent enough time in the Smithsonian with Steve that I know it back to front. I’d love to explore more modern art type museums, but history museums are the most interesting to me. All those people that lived before us and had such a cultural impact on us and our present (and our future!) It’s amazing to think about. 

10. What would you say was the moment that defines who you are today?

Fury taking me out of jail and putting me into the SHIELD Academy.   

11. What is your favorite drink and why?

Coke. God, it’s like water. Just the sweetness and fizziness....blessed be whoever created it. 

12. What is your favorite kind of weather?:

Love cold weather. So much easier to cancel plans and have excuses not to do anything. 

MOLLY:

1. What would be your perfect afternoon?

Not being bothered by Peter about stupid Spider-Man stuff, or just hanging out with him as Peter, watching Gossip Girl and eating a reuben from the diner in town while laying on the couch after smoking a bit of Frankie’s stash. Also my parents aren’t home.   

2. What’s your favourite music genre?

I found a bunch of old mix tapes in my sister’s room so whatever sort of music is on there. It’s mostly rock-ish but nothing too terrible. 

3.  If you had to describe yourself in one word, what would it be and why?

Under-appreciated. Technically it’s still one word cause it’s hyphened.  And only because Peter never seems to appreciate all the shit I do for him! It’s not fair. 

4. What is your favourite foreign food? (Foreign to the country you were born):

I like the ramen bowls we sometimes get on Friday nights. It’s a build your own type of place called Ramen Hood which amuses me. 

5. Would you want to become famous? Why? If so, what would you like to be known for?:

I’d love to be a superhero like Peter. I think I’d do a pretty good job. I know a lot about it after all. 

6. Do you think legacies are important?:

Yeah, I guess. I don’t know, never really thought about it. Or thought that I even had a legacy to deal with or whatever. Not until my sister went through all my Nana Becks stuff...

7. Would you ever adopt?:

I can barely take care of Peter. How am I supposed to take care of another human? 

8. What is your favourite “unusual” animal? As in, an animal that people don’t talk about often

The peacock spider. It’s a jumping spider that lives in Australia. I discovered them during my research on Peter’s spider-bite. They have a cool color scheme. 

9. Do you enjoy museums? If so, what type of museums?

Not really. I mean, I’ll go, but they’re kinda boring. I like the interactive stuff that a couple museums have though.

10. What would you say was the moment that defines who you are today?

I guess when Peter got bit by that spider?

11. What is your favourite drink and why?

I really like the brand of lemonade they serve in the cafeteria. It’s not too sweet, but not too bitter either. 

12. What is your favourite kind of weather?

A sunny day that has some wind to it. That way it’s not so hot out and it’s bearable when I have to stay outside for a bit. 

KITTY:

1. When is the moment that you are the most happiest?

Oh, as soon as James walks through the door after work. Or whenever the phone rings with his call. 

2. Do you have any guilty pleasures?

I am known to take an extra slice of cake, if no one is looking. And if no one is home, I like to take all my makeup off, but that’s doesn’t happen as often now since James caught me barefaced once. 

3. What do you look in a partner?:

Someone kind and smart, who has a good heart. Of course, good looking and brave, and it would be nice if he came from money but that’s not that big of a deal as long as we’re happy.  As long as he makes me happy. James makes me happy. 

4. What is your relationship with your family?:

As normal as anyone’s relationship with their family, I guess! 

5. When did you make your first friend?:

I met Astrid when we were in the first grade. She sat down next to me and promptly declared we were going to be friends. And we still are! 

6. Where you ever betrayed by someone you loved? Did you betray someone you loved?:

No, I don’t believe that’s ever happened to me. I would hate for it to happen to anyone! 

7. Are you a leader or a follower?:

Well, I’m not sure. No one’s ever really asked me that before.

8. Do you have someone that you can talk your problems?:

Of course! My best friend, Astrid and I talk all the time. About everything. 

9. What do you like to do in your free time?:

Oh I love to read. And cross stitch. And bake! And go shopping of course. 

10. Do you lie often?:

Never! 

11. Have you ever manipulated anyone?:

Of course not! Why would I ever do such a thing!?

12. Would die for your friends?:

That’s a little dramatic!