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uomo-accattivante · 3 years

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Great comprehensive interview with Elvira on the making of The Letter Room and filmmaking, in general. One interesting tidbit mentioned: she is currently developing a podcast about sex. 👀🤔

For most of her creative life, Elvira Lind has been behind the the lens compassionately capturing true stories as a documentary filmmaker. Her debut feature, Songs for Alexis, observes two young lovebirds navigating a long distance relationship and challenging views on gender identity in the modern age. While her sophomore feature, Bobbi Jenne, explores the life of a famous dancer fighting for her own creative and personal independence.

Despite her prolific doc work, a story that couldn't simply be told in its raw form kept circulating in her head: a dark prison comedy about the secret life of a correctional officer trying to bring humanity to the prison system. When he gets transferred to a job in the letter room, he finds himself a little too involved in the private lives of the inmates.

Far along in her second pregnancy, and with the support of an incredible team of collaborators, Elvira took on the challenge of writing and directing her first narrative short, "The Letter Room." The film stars Oscar Isaac and Alia Shawkat, and has had an all-star festival run, screening at Telluride, Tribeca, and the Palm Springs International Film Festival. Here, Elvira reflects on the joys and challenges of creating your first short film—putting empathy first, reshaping the tropes around pregnancy, and screening in the COVID era.

vimeo

FTW: How did you become a filmmaker?

Elvira Lind: I’ve always loved film. I was very drawn to documentaries because it felt like you were entering something that was really happening. You opened a door and were already inside the film. You’re just trying to keep up with what’s being thrown at you. As opposed to fiction where you have to conjure it up from nowhere. I loved imagining and writing stories when I was little, but I didn’t have the confidence to pursue it.

I didn’t come from a family of filmmakers. And I came from a time when people had a little shitty camcorder that you borrowed from someone’s uncle, and buying film was expensive. Things opened up and changed a lot when cameras became more accessible.

I could only afford one year of film school in Cape Town, where I met some amazing people and learned about so many different ways of storytelling. I came back to Denmark and found myself working for free a lot for other filmmakers while doing a side job. The paid work was very hard to get, but I’d rather work for free with filmmakers that I loved and have more responsibilities than have access to nothing. It wasn’t easy to find my way in, but it’s so worth it.

And now you live in New York. How does this global background affect your general filmmaking style and approach?

I definitely bring a lot of Danish documentary traditions with me and hold it very dear. There are a lot of kick ass female documentary filmmakers in Denmark that have taught me a lot. There’s a good support system for women there. It’s an incredibly privileged place in that there’s funding from the government to make films. You can make things that, in my opinion, are often far more interesting because it’s not reliant on how it’s going to make money in the box office.

You’ve shot many of your documentaries in the past. So what was it like this time to be working with a cinematographer?

I always wanted to work with a cinematographer on my documentaries; we just couldn’t afford it. Now for “The Letter Room”, I worked with Sam Chase, who has got such a brilliant eye and it was wonderful to have someone to work with on composing the look of the film because I’m usually doing it by myself. It is kind of like a marriage. I work with the same editor on all my projects as well. You enter this symbiotic sort of dance together. For me, it also means you have to fight about things and disagree and then make up and hear each other out. My editor, Adam Nielsen, is the kind of guy who just comes up with genius ideas while in the shower or on the way home from work on his bicycle. You have to find these key people in your life where you can bounce ideas back and forth with.

Where did the idea for “The Letter Room” come from?

It was a story that was brewing in my head for a long time, but I wasn’t sure how to put a narrative film together. I just started to write it down and then it kept developing.

There was a podcast that I listened to that really inspired me. It told the story of different men who were all unknowingly writing love letters to the same woman. She started to ask for money and help with rent, but the letters she wrote were so wonderful and all these men were very in love with her. These very lonely men felt like magic had entered their lives. They all eventually found out that the woman was actually a man writing to different people trying to get their money. They were all heartbroken, but one of the men said that the worst part was losing these letters and that the fantasy was gone. He wished they could just keep writing to each other. So much of life is fantasy and trying to live through other people’s lives. I’m very drawn to stories of loneliness and bottled up feelings.

And then I am firmly against the American prison system. It’s heartbreaking, frustrating, and I can’t make sense of it. How do you even begin to explain this system to a child?

It’s a society that doesn’t care about humanity. I wanted to show the monotony, the repetition, the sadness. I don’t see the bigger goal or purpose of locking people away for countless years and taking away all the things that makes you feel human, that makes life joyous. I really believe that we can all change and this system teaches people nothing. “The Letter Room'' is the combination of these two concepts that I’m very passionate about.

And then I got pregnant for the second time and I hadn’t made a film between the two. It was a crazy feeling to be taken over again by pregnancy. A wonderful friend of mine, Sofia Sondervan-Bild, came to me and said, “I think you should make this film and I’ll make it with you.” Initially, I freaked out and thought I didn’t know how to do fiction and doubted how I could make a film in a prison, but she inspired me and told me to do it. She’s just one of these incredibly powerful people that you want to go on an adventure with. She made me feel like my pregnancy wasn’t going to stand in the way of me making this film. We ended up shooting while I was far along in my pregnancy in a prison in the middle of a summer heat wave. It was crazy, but it was the best thing that I could’ve done at the time.

When you were directing on set at that stage of pregnancy, did you feel like you were reshaping tropes of what women are capable of?

It was insane. The funny thing was that the crew was like, “we can’t complain that we are tired because she is extremely pregnant and still running around.” I was so high off of that experience. When we finished, I collapsed. I fell straight onto the couch and then I have a two and a half year old screaming my name. That was more work for me than directing the short. I edited the film right before I gave birth actually, and then I gave birth and did sound right after. I was pumping breast milk in the corner in the darkness during the sound edit.

I’ve learned a lot from surpassing whatever I thought was physically possible with being pregnant. I learned that being in a creative process gives you so much energy that it allows you to be in whatever shape, size, form, mental space you can. People are ready to give you their support, if you choose the right people. I’m really grateful that I chose such wonderful collaborators who supported me through it all. Even when people were questioning my choice to direct a film while being pregnant in a prison. Why not? Women get pregnant and then we still need to be supported so that we can continue to make the things we want to do.

What was your experience with getting “The Letter Room” funded?

It’s really hard, let’s be honest. There aren’t a lot of people sitting around waiting to fund a short film. We ended up working with Topic, which is a part of First Look Media. They are just incredible and really support filmmakers with whatever their vision is. I’ve had great experiences and some really bad experiences with funding, so I know this was an ideal scenario.

Having a short that is over 30 minutes long seems like a feat. At what stage in the process did you know this was going to be a longer piece? And how did that decision affect the shoot in both positive and difficult ways?

It was way too long at first, and when I shortened it, it was still 32 minutes. We could only afford five days of shooting, and a lot of it is shot on active prison grounds, which have an insane amount of protocol. We almost used everything we shot.

I’m not used to being able to have different angles to choose from in my doc work, so I think I just knew exactly what I wanted. I know that my producers were worried that I wasn’t getting enough, but to me, I was like, I’m getting double of what I usually get on a documentary! Everyone was quietly concerned, but everything worked out when we got to the edit.

The short’s length hasn’t done any favors for me so far, but you need to breathe as an audience, you need to pace it out. If I cut out certain minutes, it would’ve felt rushed and you wouldn’t have believed the arcs that the characters had.

I loved the concept of placing a very empathetic character in a setting that is contrary to that personality type. You included so many details that made the world feel so three dimensional and cared for. Can you talk about those decisions to create that feeling?

It means so much to me that it made you feel that way. What frustrates me about the prison system is that it lacks any empathy or understanding of human nature and nurture and who we are. What we need to become better people. It takes all of that away.

I spoke to people who have spent a lot of time in prison and they told me that you have to hide your feelings and that showing any signs of weakness will be a disaster. It’s the worst possible scenario you can imagine yourself in. Being robbed of every privacy, anything that makes you happy, anything that makes you feel like yourself. I imagined the character of a caregiver in this setting who wants to help and finds a silly way to do so. I was very inspired by that story of the love letters that I talked about earlier. What does it mean to lie if you’re making someone else happy?

It’s the morning of your first day of the shoot — how do you feel?

I was very nervous. I had never said ‘action’ before. I’ve been on a lot of sets, but I didn’t want to seem like I didn’t know what I was doing, but it’s also okay not to know. Mistakes are going to happen, and sometimes they become gifts. At the same time, I was very excited. You come in and there are all these people there with you who are there to make this thing you’ve written come to life.

What are some things you would do on set to create a safe space and vulnerable environment?

We did everything we could to make the set a safe space. It was very difficult and stressful to shoot in an active prison, but we made sure to actively ask our crew if everyone’s feeling okay and if we can do anything to make the situation better. I’m very vulnerable and encourage all of my crew to be vulnerable with me. Mistakes are welcome.

It's a short film, people come and work on this not because they’re making a million dollars, but because they want to be there and are being incredibly generous with their time and energy. It was such a good environment that even when challenging things came up, it was still a lot of fun.

What was it like working with actors for the first time?

That was one of the biggest challenges for me. I’ve heard so many different stories in passing of the least helpful note or worst thing to say to an actor. You want to be respectful and actors have their way of working. Ultimately, they are all really talented actors and all of them came with so much energy and a lot of ideas.

I spent time with each of them talking about their character. Those 1 on 1 conversations helped me a lot in the writing process as well because you’re bouncing ideas off of each other and they’re asking you questions about how they would respond to a certain situation.

I had always imagined Alia Shawkat as Rosita and she ended up wanting to do it and came from LA to film it. I had tears in my eyes when we were filming the scene of her and Oscar. They were excited to do the scene together. It was all a dream.

What was the experience of working creatively alongside your partner like?

We were joking a lot about it before because there was already the stress of being so pregnant and we have a 2 year old at home, and now I was putting us in another highly intense and demanding situation. Either it was going to be great OR we would drive each other nuts. But we had so much fun. It was wonderful to work together. I was so happy to be on set and make my film and he’s just so talented and fun to be around. Those little moments where you know each other so well—I’d give him notes and he just kept surprising me and was so respectful of my directions.

He found this photo for him to connect to the character and it became very fundamental to me. It was this incredible black and white photo from the 70s of a prison guard. I had always imagined that he would have this inner salsa soundtrack playing in his soul and we would play Rubén Blades and 70s salsa music and Oscar just morphed that into music into everything and created this unique character.

And he was wearing a fat suit the entire shoot and I was pregnant and Alia Shawkat had her pregnant belly on. The three of us—it was so funny.

It seems like the perfect first experience of going into narrative with people that you really trust and support you.

Definitely! Find the people that you can team up with that really believe in your vision and who will push you to do exactly what you had in mind. People who never try to push you into these conventional routes. Our creative voices are so fragile. You want to be on the same page so that they see what you’re trying to do and want to bring that out of you. Where they’re treating your film as a sacred thing that you’re creating together.

How do you know when a film is done?

Fiction is very different from documentaries. With documentaries, it never feels like it’s done because there are so many options. That’s also why I love fiction so much; It’s so much faster. It’s a whole different beast to tame a documentary with hundreds of hours of footage where you’re reinventing the wheel every day.

How have you built up your own confidence as a director and your unique voice?

Stubbornness. I’ve had many experiences working with people who didn’t believe in my project. You have to stick to your guns and trust your instincts. Once you find your voice, you find people that want to go on that ride with you and find your vision interesting. It’s a miracle when any of us gets a project made, so your confidence can’t come from how much money your movie made. It has to come from somewhere else. Did you do justice to the people you portrayed in your story? Did anyone walk away feeling like something had changed within them?

What is a good director to you?

Someone who is driven with passion without letting that passion take over and become any source of frustration that’s taken out on other people. It should feel like a collaborative effort. And having gratitude every day that you’re making something with other people who are donating their time. You’d be nowhere without them. One of the most important things is making sure that your crew is treating everyone equally. It depends on the size of the production, but having someone who can sense what’s happening in all different departments and having department heads that are there to protect everyone. Listen to each other, and make sure everyone feels safe and is in the best place to be creative.

With COVID, what has the adjustment been like to being in an online space for this festival run?

I’m really deeply saddened by not having the human interaction aspect of it. It feels so crucial to be in the room together, to meet and see each other's projects and share the experience, to cry and laugh next to people you don’t know. I’m grieving to be honest. We just gotta get through this time. It reminds us of how sacred it is for us to gather and how that feels, and I hope that all of that will come back after this and that cinemas will survive. We really need them.

What’s next for you?

Right now I’m writing more fiction and working on a new documentary feature that I am kind of researching and shooting at the same time. I am also creating a podcast about sex, called “The List” with my friend, writer and photographer Kirra Cheers, based on a book and play she wrote. My husband and I just started a production company together, Mad Gene Media, in order to develop and produce our own material. So. lots of exciting things to continue with in the new year.

Born in 1981 in Copenhagen, Elvira Lind graduated from School of Media and Creative Arts in Cape Town in 2006 majoring in documentary film where she received two awards for her final year achievements. She has worked within that field since directing and shooting documentaries of various lengths for TV, cinema and web on 4 different continents.In 2020 she premiered her first fiction project, a 32 min short film she wrote and directed. The film was sold to Topic and was invited to various festivals including Telluride and Tribeca FF. Elvira's feature doc BOBBI JENE premiered at Tribeca Film Festival in 2017 where it won all awards in its category including Best Feature documentary, best editing and best Cinematography. The film had theatrical release in US, Spain and Scandinavia.Elvira's first documentary feature Songs for Alexis premiered at Toronto HOT DOCS in 2014 and screened and competed at a long list of international festivals. Her 8 part documentary TV series "Twiz and Tuck" was bought by VICELAND and launched in 2017. Elvira now lives and works out of New York.

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#oscar isaac #elvira lind #the letter room #mad gene media #interview

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downwiththeficness · 3 years

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In the Bond-Chapter 11

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~5,400

Warnings: Smut

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

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Taglist: @symbiont13

The bar was empty when Brasa and Lilah arrived, though that wasn’t surprising. The sun was not yet set, would not set, for several hours. Lilah followed Brasa to his room where she set down her bags. Her buzz had worn off over the hour drive and she was feeling more tired than she should have, given that it was still early afternoon. She attempted a soft smile when Brasa eyed her carefully, his mouth pulled down.

He touched her cheek with a gloved hand, “You should rest. Javier is waiting for me.”

Lilah held his gaze, “You’re insane if you think I’m not coming with you.”

He hesitated briefly, then nodded, taking her hand and leading her through to his public office where, as expected, Javier was waiting. Today, he was dressed in a deep crimson, accented with black and gold. The cane he periodically carried was hanging loosely from the crook of his thumb. When he spotted them, he stood and buttoned his jacket.

“My lord,” he said, with reverence.

Brasa acknowledged him, his expression serious, “Have you found them?”

“I have,” Javier answered, already moving towards a tablet. He tapped it awake and ran his finger over the screen to pull up the map, “They’ve dug into the old tunnel system. Here, and here.”

He handed the tablet to Brasa, who took it and scanned the places Javier had indicated on the map.

Brasa smiled in way that made Lilah’s eyes narrow. It was too satisfied, too confident, “Two groups?”

Javier ticked his head to the side, “Yes, and no. Two groups, same leader. Benny rotates between them—perhaps to keep us guessing.”

Brasa set the tablet aside and moved to sit down in his chair behind the desk. The languid movement, the stretch of muscle as he leaned back, made Lilah’s stomach twist in a way that she absolutely did not need in that moment. They were supposed to be planning a coordinated manipulation of a dangerous group of predators. She couldn’t be mooning over him right now, a fact that didn’t stop her.

He was looking at Javier—a level, focused expression in his eyes. Brown eyes that not an hour ago were sparkling at her conspiratorially as they schemed. Like before, when they were just discussing finances and trade deals, he’d listened to her, assimilated her opinions and thoughts. Lilah had found herself fighting back a smile as she watched him think, her own mind circling back to the primary thing that occupied her attention.

The last two days had solidified things between them in a way that Lilah, three months ago, would have found utterly infuriating, if not terrifying. And, here she was, fine with it—maybe not fine. More fine than she had been. Which wasn’t saying a lot. Fuck, but she still felt the conflict within herself. Everything was going too fast, and yet she couldn’t seem to make herself slow down. She wanted it too much.

She had spend a lot of her life alone, without real, solid relationships. And then Seth had walked into that bar. And Lilah had learned to be friends and to trust. And then she’d fallen through that goddamned roof and right into Brasa’s arms.

The kind of trust she needed to have in Brasa far exceeded anything she’d ever experienced. Lilah congratulated Brasa for his patience, and he had been patient. She still had a long way to go, but progress was progress. Lilah might be moving at a glacial pace, but she was still moving, and that had to be enough for both of them.

“Do we know where he is now?”

Javier smiled unkindly, “We do.”

“Good,” Brasa announced, rising as he pushed his hand through his hair, “Then we meet him as he wakes, with the others.”

“Perhaps,” Javier edged, “We should just...eradicate them now, while they rest.”

Lilah felt that fuzzy feeling in her stomach drop. For all the diplomacy that she’d witnessed between them, all the political manipulation, the bargaining, the negotiation...underneath it all, this was exactly how they’d remained in power for so long. Complete domination of their enemies. Utter genocide, if necessary. She acknowledged the effectiveness, but knew that the method would produce the results that Brasa wanted—he wanted the population to buy in to a new way of doing things, not merely give their compliance with directives in an attempt to keep from being slaughtered.

Brasa shifted on his feet, pushing hands into his pockets, “We discussed another option.”

Chuckling, Javier said, “Of course.”

Lilah didn’t like the way he said it, as if he were humoring his boss, as if he knew that the plan would fail. She was no expert on culebras, but Lilah knew people. The plan could work, if everyone stuck to it.

“I think we start with that, and then…” Brasa trailed off, indicating that simply killing them was always on the table.

She didn’t know how she felt about it, but Lilah was at least mollified that Brasa would look to the solution they’d discussed first. It would buy her time to work on back up plans, when the shit inevitably hit the fan.

Javier nodded deferentially, “Understood.”

“Good,” Brasa said, moving around the desk. “Its been a long trip home. I’m going to get cleaned up and I’ll meet you at the bar at sunset.”

Javier hesitated for a second too long, but eventually said, “Yes, my lord.”

Brasa once again took her hand, leading her back to his rooms. Inside, he pulled off his gloves and sat on the bed to untie his shoes. Lilah sat next to him, her weight leaning into his body comfortably.

“You should rest,” he reiterated as he shucked off his socks, “I’ll shower and get changed while you sleep.”

Lilah very nearly offered to shower with him, but the mattress beneath her was calling her name, the last few days catching up with her. She smiled at him as he stood and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead, watching as he headed for the en suite and shut the door behind him.

Lilah reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. She had several new messages to answer, her thumbs sliding over the screen. Hitting send, she tapped open the clock app and set and alarm for ten minutes before sunset. Lilah had no intentions of sleeping through that meeting with Benny.

Sliding up towards the pillows, Lilah kicked off her sneakers and toed off her socks. Her sweatshirt went over the side of the bed and, after a moment of deliberation, so did her jeans. Rolling onto her side, she reached up and flicked off the light. Snuggled into the covers, she drifted off easily.

Lilah awoke an indeterminate time later, blinking groggily into a pitch black room. Even in the dark, she could tell that he was lying next to her. Feeling brave in her half conscious state, Lilah shuffled over to him and laid a hand on his chest. Saying nothing, Brasa lifted an arm and gathered her to him with a contented little sigh. She wondered how long he’d been resting near her, awake and listening to her breathe.

As she ran her hand over and down to his side, along the angular plane of his body, Lilah’s brows drew together in confusion, “Did you get fully dressed just to lay in bed?” She felt around a little more, “On top of the covers?”

“Sunset is in an hour,” he answered, the words coming out slow enough that she knew he was choosing them carefully. “I did not want to get too comfortable.”

It was the way that he said the last two words that cued her, an emphasis that did quite match his normal speech pattern. Lilah grabbed onto them, mentally, and felt herself smirk.

Rising to her elbow, Lilah rested her head on her palm and teased, “Do you think that if we got ‘too comfortable’, we’d miss the meeting?”

He drew in a breath, “That’s...possible.”

Fingers tracing up the line of buttons on his shirt, she lowered her voice a little, “I set an alarm. It would have woken us. And, I’m pretty sure you can tell where the sun is, being a sun god, and all.”

The last part was pure conjecture, but Lilah felt fairly confident in her analysis of his powers. Though, to be fair, she had probably only skimmed the surface of what he was capable of doing.

The arm around her waist tightened, “Yes, I suppose you are right.”

When she walked her fingertips up towards his neck, Lilah found that his face was turned towards her. Beneath the pad of her thumb, his Adam’s apple bobbed. He was warm, the kind of warm that told her he wanted something. She was inclined to give it to him.

“You barely slept last night, traveled across two countries over the last few days, you’re stressed, this is your bed—why would you not want to be comfortable, to sleep in your own bed?” The smirk that had been on her lips during the conversation widened, “Unless you thought we might not be sleeping.”

He flinched. Oh, this was too good not to dig into.

As warmth wafted from his body, Lilah felt an answering heat bubbling in her belly, “What did you think would happen?” Her voice dropped to the smallest whisper, “Did you think that if we got too comfortable, we’d end up fucking?”

The answer to that question was a sharp inhale and a low rumble. She was absolutely correct.

“You did!” She exclaimed in mock surprise.

He said her name, a warning in his tone as he moved to sit. Lilah chuckled as she put weight on him to hold him still, satisfied when he relented. She wondered why he hadn’t pressed his advantage the night before, and again on the plane. It left her with a question borne of insecurity.

“Do you...want to?”

He scoffed, “Of course I do. I would have taken you to bed that first night, if you were willing.”

He had a point. She had been desperate to get as far away as possible—not exactly receptive to seduction. Still…

“You had other opportunities.”

Like when she’d most recently thrown herself at him.

“Yes, and those opportunities have usually been after we’ve had an argument.”

Lilah wished she could see his face. His tone was so matter of fact that her confidence faltered. She quickly shored up her last bit of bravado.

“Point.” Then, “So, you have thoughts…”

In a smooth flex of muscle, Brasa had her rolled beneath him, his mouth hovering close enough that his lips brushed hers as he spoke, “Lilah, it would be fair to say that the multitude of ways I want to have you takes up a significant portion of my thoughts.”

She preened under those words, her hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, “Care to share with the class?”

He huffed out a laugh, and she felt him shake his head.

“I mean,” Lilah continued, allowing that teasing tone to seep back into her voice, “You already got to act on at least one of those thoughts last night—which reminds me, I think I left you hanging a bit.” When he made a sound of question, she added, “I got to come so hard I passed out and you didn’t get to.”

Brasa’s bare hands, which had been trailing over her skin, stilled, “I...did.”

Intrigued, and not a little bit titillated, Lilah urged, “Do tell.”

She didn’t have to be able to see him to know that he was about to balk, so she cut off the intention with a sound kiss. Swallowing his groan, she ran her hands down his chest and pushed so that he rolled to his back.

Lilah kicked out of the covers, stretching her body out beside him, “Please? You could start at the point where I lost consciousness.”

Brasa cleared his throat, fingers tangling with hers as they lay on his chest, “I carried you to bed and went back downstairs to sit on the couch. Your scent was everywhere, I could still taste your blood.”

Lilah licked her lips, “Then what happened?”

Breaths coming in faster, he said, “Your scent, it was on me. On clothes, my hands. I just wanted a taste, and…”

“And?”

He drew in another deep breath, the words coming out of him in rapid succession, “I licked my fingers, sucked them clean.” His hand squeezed reflexively, “It was so good, Lilah.”

Drawn by the desperation in his tone, she rose over him and kissed him deeply, her tongue dipping in to run along his lower lip. He grasped her by the back of her head, holding her steady so that he could nip at her with teeth that were now very sharp. He shifted, leveraging his greater weight to put her on her back once more. Lilah went willingly.

In between kisses, she prompted him, “What did you do next?”

“I,” he started, cutting himself off with a needy moan that melted into a series of panting breaths against the skin of her neck.

Once more, her hands caressed down his chest, continuing down to palm him through the fabric of his pants. Brasa’s body bowed as his hips tilted forward, a hiss sounding from between his teeth.

Lilah stroked him languidly, “Did you touch yourself?”

He nodded, hands grasping her wrists and pulling them away to pin them to the bed. Lilah writhed beneath him, working her tangled legs free and using her calves to pull him into the cradle of her hips. He let go of one of her wrists, tracing down her body to grip the back of one thigh. Lilah thought he might pull away, put some distance between them. Instead, he hitched her leg higher so that he could grind against her, a choked sound coming from the back of his throat.

Her breath stuttered as he slid against her clit, only the material of her underwear and his pants between them. She groaned his name loudly, earning another hard, steady grind. Even in complete darkness, she saw stars.

And then she had an idea, “Do you want another taste?”

His unequivocal ‘yes’ was out of his mouth so quickly that Lilah could only chuckle, her hand pushing beneath the waistband of her underwear. Brasa lifted up at bit to give her room, a pleased growl vibrating from deep in his chest.

The sound of her fingers sliding through her slick was almost embarrassingly loud. Lilah pushed her fingers inside one by one, rotating her wrist to coat them at thoroughly as possible. When she offered him her hand, she expected him feel his tongue running along her skin instantly. What he actually did was sit back on his heels to yank her into his lap. Only then did her suck the first two digits into his mouth.

He whimpered, and Lilah could feel his cock pulsing beneath her. She wrapped her free arm around his shoulders and tried to keep her mind focused enough so that she didn’t melt into a puddle in his arms. When he had licked her skin clean, Brasa dropped her hand and pulled her in for a kiss. It was messy, frantic, tainted with the taste of venom.

He held her tightly, forehead pressed against hers as he worked to catch his breath. Lilah tried to kiss him again, but he pulled away with an airy laugh. Lilah’s eyes narrowed in the dark. He was not going to tease her now.

Shoving one hand into his hair, she yanked his head back, sucking what she hoped would be a deep bruise onto his neck. He snarled, dislodging her hand and throwing her onto the mattress.

Following her down, Brasa let most of his weight fall against her as he hissed into her ear, “Don’t test me, querida.”

Stubborn, stubborn man. Lilah would have to try something else.

Nudging along his jaw, she picked up where she’d left off before, whispering, “What did you think about when you were making yourself come?”

His answer was cut off by her alarm sounding. Brasa gave her a short kiss before levering himself up and over to the nightstand where he dismissed it. A moment later, he turned on the light. Lilah had no idea what she looked like, but if his appearance was anything to go by she was more than a little rumpled.

Black eyes wandered all over her, lingering on her exposed thighs. Clearly, he liked her a little rumpled.

Lilah took a breath, “You didn’t answer my question.”

Brasa’s head cocked to the side, his mouth tilting upwards in a smirk, “You’re right.”

He crawled over to her, all sinuous movement that should not have been possible with such a large frame. Arms bracketing her body, Brasa leaned down and fixed her with an intent gaze.

“I thought about you taking my bite as you come all over me,” he murmured, his hand cupping her cheek, “I thought about pumping you full of venom and making you come until you’re begging me to stop. Does that answer your question?”

Lilah blinked owlishly up at him, her mouth open in shock. She fully expected him to say something along those lines. But, actually hearing the words, seeing his face so full of conviction, it made her shiver.

Brasa leaned back and away, “I need to go. Javier is likely waiting for me.”

“You mean waiting for us.”

His jaw set and Lilah could hear the argument before he’d even started. With a frustrated sigh, she pushed from the bed and dug around in her suitcase for her work attire. Brasa busied himself with pulling on his gloves and pushing the tail of his shirt back into his pants.

As she pulled on her jeans, she asked, “Did you think I was kidding when I said you’d be insane to think I wasn’t coming with you?”

Brasa stood and ran his hands through his hair, raking it back and away from his face, “I had thought you might see the sense that there is a potential for a nasty fight.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “Who helped you come up with this idea?”

That was a solid argument, and she could tell the Brasa knew it. He looked away, his arms crossing.

She shrugged on a sweatshirt and pulled her hair into a ponytail. He was silent while she strapped her knife and gun to her body, rolled on a pair of socks, and stepped into her sneakers. When she was finished, Lilah moved closer to him and dared him to argue further with a lifted brow.

Brasa sighed, relenting, “If you go with us, you must do something for me.”

“Okay,” she agreed readily, surprising herself.

Hands coming up to grasp her shoulders, Brasa looked her squarely in the eye, “I need you to let me in. Relax into the bond so that I can communicate with you, if necessary.”

She frowned, “How do I do that?”

“You’ve felt me before, just reach out to me. Feel for me.”

Lilah’s frown held, but she closed her eyes and concentrated on that little tingle at the back of her brain that always went off whenever he was around. Shoulders dropping, she did exactly as she asked. She reached out to him.

Nearby, he inhaled sharply, “There. Just like that. Keep your mind open while we’re out there.”

She nodded.

A while later, Lilah was riding in the back of an SUV with Brasa next to her, Javier navigating effortlessly on roads that were nearly non-existent. As requested, she had left the bond open. Lilah could feel Brasa’s mental presence as surely as she could feel his hand resting on her thigh. It was warm, like him. She resisted feeling too happy about how easily he fit into the space.

Brasa was not exactly nervous. Lilah could feel an unrelenting calm from him, but there was a faint vibration underneath it. Curious, she touched on it, drawing back when he turned his head to look down at her.

“Sorry,” she said, embarrassed that she’d been caught.

Brasa took her hand, the leather of his gloves soft in her palm, “Don’t be. I welcome your curiosity.”

“You say that now,” Lilah murmured, “But when I’ve asked you the thousandth question of the day, you might think differently.”

Shifting a little in his seat, Brasa lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, with his free hand, he twined his fingers in hers, “I would rather you ask questions than run away.”

Lowering her eyes, Lilah felt the censure for what it was. Her instinct was always to cut and run at the first sign of trouble. It had been what had saved her life many times before. Lately, it had not suited her purpose quite so much. She settled further into his body, idly watching the road.

Eventually, they came to what looked like a cave in the face of a cliff. Lilah eyed it as she ambled out of the car, her hand reaching down to pull open her holster. Brasa walked ahead of her, stopping just short of the entrance.

“You’re sure he’s here?”

Javier nodded, “I have a source from the inside.”

Brasa looked back at Lilah. In the moonlight, his body covered in shadow, he looked right at home. She took a breath and stepped up beside him, her eyes turning to the darkness ahead.

“You know where we’re going?”

“I do,” he replied easily, “I know the way.”

Lilah glanced at him sidelong, “Okay.”

Using her cell phone as a flashlight, Lilah followed Brasa, Javier behind her. The floor of the cave was smooth, too smooth to be natural. A few niches were cut into the sides of the path, rounded little pods. At the back of the cave was a door. Wooden, no lock. Brasa opened it and looked down—literally down. It was a hole that dropped about fifty feet or so. No ladder, no hand grips. Just smooth stone all around. The circumference was fairly large, the edges rounded in a way that told her it had been well used at one time.

Reaching back, Brasa pulled her into his body, “Hold onto me.”

Lilah slipped her phone into her pocket and wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands ran down her sides and under her ass, leverage that he used to pull her up and into his arms. Lilah didn’t have time to give him the laugh that threatened to jut out of her throat as she was suddenly falling, the wind pulling at her hair.

They landed audibly, dirt skittering around Brasa’s shoes. Lilah blinked in the dark as he helped her ease her legs down from around his waist. He steadied her, his hand at the small of her back.

Lilah left her arms where they were, her muscles having loosened from where she’d clenched them on the way down, “How many more of these are there going to be tonight?”

She could hear the smile in his voice when he answered, “This is the only one. At least, for tonight.”

“Good to know.”

Javier dropped down next to them, and Lilah wondered if he’d gotten dust all over his sharp suit, or he’d come out of this as crisp and clean and put together as he usually was. A light clink echoed, his walking stick tapping the ground.

“Through here,” Brasa directed.

Lilah grabbed for her phone, lighting the way so that she didn’t trip over her own feet. They moved to another door, same as the other. There was a faint light beneath it. Without preamble, Brasa opened it and strolled inside.

A hand at her elbow stopped her. Lilah looked back to Javier, who pulled her to a stop.

“Wait a moment. We didn’t announce ourselves. These kinds of surprises are usually unwelcome.”

He wasn’t wrong. Lilah heard voices rise, snarls and growls following. She craned her neck, peering into the room through the doorway. A body went flying across her line of sight, followed by more yelling. It took about two minutes for things to die down, Lilah fidgeting the whole time. Beside her, Javier rested both hands on his cane, his expression serene.

“This happen a lot?” she asked, her ears straining to hear.

Javier shrugged, “From time to time. Lord Brasa rarely makes personal visits. I imagine this is quite the shock.”

Lilah nodded, distracted by the shadows moving in the room.

In the next moment, Javier was moving forward, saying to her, “Please stay close to me. My lord would be unhappy if you were hurt.”

Face scrunching in confusion, Lilah followed him in. There had...clearly been a fight. A few angry, bleeding members of the group littered the room. Brasa stood near the middle, looking relaxed. He wasn’t even breathing hard. Lilah made an effort to control her face as she filed in behind him.

The group was pretty rough looking. Clothes that were torn, dirty faces and hands, hard stares, teeth bared. A few had their game faces on. Lilah’s hand hovered near her pistol.

At the far end of the room was another door, open. Voices could be heard filtering down the hall. They’d gone to get Benny. As expected, he appeared from the darkness. He looked much the same as he had in the bar. Kind of a douche. Lilah noted that his skin was clean, his clothes worn but not tattered. He looked well fed.

“The fuck are you doing here?” he spit at Brasa.

“Making an offer,” was the response—cool, calm, polite.

Lilah remembered when that tone of voice had grated on her nerves, made her grit her teeth in an effort to keep from lashing out.

Benny’s glare deepened, “We don’t want anything you’re offering.”

“Even if its food?”

That got a lot of the group’s attention. Lilah watched their eyes spark with interest. How many of them were hungry? And for how long?

Benny shook his head, “Yeah. Food. If we play by your rules, if we stop hunting.”

Brasa’s head cocked to the side, “Why would you need to hunt if you’re fed well?”

This was the argument that they’d agreed on. Lilah was glad he was sticking to the script. Benny wasn’t buying it, as she suspected would happen. His snarl was near constant, and one look at the others in the room told her that they were going to feed off his energy. Everything about this could get out of hand very quickly, if Brasa wasn’t careful.

“Look at you,” she cut in, letting just the tiniest bit of derision drip into her tone, “You’re living like animals. You’re not animals.” The last three words were enunciated, sharp, and clear.

Benny’s attention turned to her, and Lilah caught Javier moving subtly in her periphery. She did her best to remain relaxed, but her body’s natural reaction, the adrenaline, kept her heart beating harder than she wanted.

“Look at you,” Benny echoed. Then, sarcastically, “Did Lord Brasa bring us a snack along with his ridiculous new world?”

Lilah closed her eyes as Brasa’s growl sounded so loudly that her ears rang.

She took at step forward, making sure to look straight on at Benny, “You know that starting a fight is bad news for every one of your people here,” Lilah asserted, her hands waving to the faces that were watching the interaction intensely. “We’re only here to talk.”

Benny’s expression—half amused, half enraged—held, “We don’t talk with humans, we eat them.”

The challenge in his voice, in his expression, told her exactly what she would need to do. In this hierarchy, she was the more powerful, despite her species. Every single culebra in the room would need to know that, and to honor it.

“You’ll talk with me.”

“Why?”

Now or never, she thought.

Lilah drew herself up, “Because I am Lord Brasa’s bondmate, and because I am literally the only person in here that can ensure you’re still alive when we leave.”

Benny laughed, his fangs reaching out towards her from where they’d fallen past the seam of his lips. She grit her teeth and waited, knowing that this was delicate and that she needed to get through the rest of this as they’d agreed. From across the bond, she felt Brasa soothe the edges of her worry.

“You kill me, you’ll only make me a martyr,” Benny asserted, though Lilah could see the faint tremor in his mouth as he spoke.

“Not a matyr, not really. We’re here to talk, you start a fight, you’ll lose. Every one of your people will die.”

This was very fucking true. There were maybe fifteen of them, and they didn’t look well trained. Add the obvious hunger, and they didn’t stand a chance.

Another laugh, another sneer, “We’re ready to die to keep our way of life.”

She lifted a brow, “Running, hiding, starving. You’re willing to die for this?”

Benny drew back, his eyes narrow. He worked his jaw, and seemed to think. Ahead of her, Brasa shifted his weight. Lilah glanced at the back of his head, noting the relaxed stance. Her brows drew together as he turned in a slow circle, his eyes lifting to the ceiling of the room.

“Do any of you know where these tunnels came from? How they were made?”

Lilah felt her mouth tighten, tension rising in her arms and in her hips, her body readying to react. This wasn’t in their script. What the fuck was he doing?

Brasa looked back at the group, smiling, “We made them. A long time ago.”

“Bullshit,” Benny spat, “Just like everything else about you.”

Brasa chuckled, “No bullshit. There’s a hundred kilometers of tunnels that all lead back to a central room. In it is an altar.” He paused, fixing his attention on Benny, “And a door.”

Lilah watched the reactions of the others, catching a few look at each other, the details confirmed with involuntary micro-expressions. Meanwhile, she worked hard to contain her own misgivings. This wasn’t in the discussion—had this been what he’d been doing while she slept?

“I know what it is that you want,” Brasa continued, “You want to open the door between this world and Xibalba.” A coy smile, “What did they promise you?”

Benny flinched. Lilah felt herself involuntarily inhale. Brasa was right.

“It doesn’t matter,” Brasa said easily, “I know what will happen. You will try to open the door. If you’re successful, which I very much doubt, you’ll bring more Xibalbans into this place. They will take your people as sacrifice, and enslave the rest. You might live to see yourself speared by a pike and burned to ash on the next sunrise.”

That was...a pretty damn effective argument. Lilah felt herself kind of impressed by how cleanly he’d laid it out. From the back of her mind, she felt the warmth of his gratification, it drifted down over her neck and nestled in the space between her shoulder blades.

“He’s lying,” Benny spit as he looked around him. “That won’t happen.”

“So you do want to open the door?” Lilah asked.

The silence that followed was enough to convince everyone in the room that this was, at least, part of his plan.

Javier dropped his cane loudly on the stone floor, “We have a steady supply of blood. We have warm beds. We also have a need. Our operation is growing. Some of you have skills that would help us ensure that no one goes hungry, that we don’t draw the attention of hunters, that we coexist with humans for centuries to come.”

Here was the offer, as they’d discussed. All of these things were true. Brasa could only do so much, even with Javier at his side. There were logistics that needed to be carefully monitored to keep the supply running and to keep it off the radar of the authorities. In this world, the power of the hunt became the power of achievement, possibly a more potent lure for anyone unhappy with the status quo.

Lilah kept her attention on the group, looking for signs of breaking with the pack. A few looked promising.

Javier rested both hands on top of his cane, “Who’s in?”

To Lilah’s left, a woman with dark skin, hair, and eyes, raised her hand.

#from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #Brasa #In the Bond

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delaneytveit · 3 years

Text

Satellites Part 16

Insomnia at its finest! wow, 3 chapters in one day, amazing! This has now turned into the How I Wish the Writers Handled Lance’s trauma. because lets be honest, we did not get that in the show, and I will mourn it until my dying breath!

So what else will we learn about Project Leo and Lance’s time as a captive? Let’s find out!

As always, here are my twitter handles if any of you want to follow me or yell at me or anything.

Twitter - sfw -> @/spacemom_laney | nsfw -> @15_agentwash

and maybe buy me a coffee??

ko-fi - ko-fi.com/delaneym_15

oh, and before I forget! TW: blood, gore, death?, corpses

(part 15) (Masterpost) (part 17)

The mission had been approved an hour before they were to embark. As simple as it seemed on paper, there was nothing simple about it. They were to go to the exact facility that Lance had been held in.

Lance was to return to the place that had taken everything from him. The place that had broken him and made him into their own perfect image. It made him sick to even think about it. They thought they were helping him, making him stronger, better, faster. They thought that what they were doing was just and that their findings could be used by the very empire trying to colonize the entirety of the universe.

Lance had never believed anyone could be evil, not the pure kind in which they held absolutely no shred of humanity. He had never believed that anyone could be so deprived of morality. They had changed that.

His time in the lab, and in the prison before it, had changed that. He had been exposed to people who treated him as nothing more than an experiment, people who found enjoyment in his pain and torture. He had found people who would so easily deliver pain to anyone they deemed as below them, take power away from the already powerless.

He was going back.

But this time it was different.

This time it was on his own terms.

The argument over whether or not Lance should accompany the rest of the team on the mission was surprisingly brief. Allura had been very adamant about ensuring Lance’s dependability, regardless of his mental state. And frankly no one could really argue against her due to the fact that Lance was the only one who knew the layout of the facility.

He had been the only one able to escape after all.

The flight to the ship was brief. Allura had wormhole the castle to a neighboring gas planet that it was able to hide behind. Due to the Green Lion’s ability to remain undetected, the paladins each boarded it, and Pidge was the only one to pilot to the facility. In just under 20 dobashes, the Green Lion had made its way onto the ship.

Keith was the first out of the Green Lion, activating his bayard and plunging it into the steel outer wall of the ship. In a few ticks he had successfully cut a circular hole wide enough for the team to slip through individually.

Up until now, no one had really noticed the lack of security of the facility. No one except for Lance.

The last time he had been here, it had been hell to get out. Patrol ships were everywhere and the large ion cannon would have shot anything down within half a tick. It was weird how quiet the facility and the area around it was, and he most certainly didn’t like it.

“Keep your eyes open,” Lance called over the comms just as his feet touched the floor of a familiar hallway. “Something’s not right.”

“Lance is right.” Shiro announced, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this place.”

Once everyone had successfully boarded, Lance wasted no time in leading them down the ever winding hallways. He was honestly surprised he was able to remember the path. He had only walked it once, and it was more of a wild sprint than a walk, but the path came with ease.

He knew something wasn’t right from the very beginning. In no way should a team of five paladins be able to simply walk into a heavily guarded lab facility. They should have encountered at least a dozen sentries since they even stepped foot on the ship, and yet, nothing.

He didn’t like being back, the memories were much too overwhelming, but he needed to do this. He needed to put on a brave face for the team. He needed to get them to the people that needed them the most.

He could break down later. Until he turned down one specific hallway.

“Where are you taking me? Who are you?”

“Subject 7234, you are in distress. Please I need you to-”

“Stop calling me that! That’s not my name!”

“Subject 7234, I really must encourage you to calm down, you’ve already ripped your stitches.”

Lance looked down. He hadn’t even felt it. He should have felt it, the pain of it, filling his abdomen. It was only the thick dark blood that told him she was right.

“What are you doing to me?” he yelled, he couldn’t move his arms to wipe the tears from his eyes. He was tied to a bed again, at the mercy of Clipboard and her assistants. The squeak of the wheels was loud as they wheeled him down the hallway.

The vision evaporated almost immediately as Keith grasped Lance’s hand.

“Hey, you okay?” The red paladin scanned his face, searching for anything that could possibly give him an answer.

Lance took a second to breathe before he steeled himself. “I’m fine.” He turned and made his way to continue down the long hallway.

Not now.

It was much too quiet. It made him uneasy, and it was clear that the team was equally as confused and were likely thinking the same thing.

Where is everyone?

After a few more long hallways, a few more twists and turns, the armed paladins finally made it to the infamous lab itself.

Like the room he had been held in, the walls of the lab were made entirely out of glass, thick and at the time virtually unbreakable. And yet, shards were everywhere. The entire wall had been smashed and glass had spilt over the otherwise empty hallway.

Hunk cleared his throat, “What...happened?”

Lance had been thinking that exact same thing.

Shaking his head, Lance responded. “I-I don’t know.”

“...Mmmaybe we should head back?” Keith had placed his hand on Lance’s arm, apparently trying in some way to comfort the obviously affected paladin.

“No, we keep going.”

“Lance-”

“We owe it to them, Keith! We have to search for survivors.”

“Lance, do you really think that there is anyone still alive on this ship?” Pidge questioned. She was beyond skeptical. The destruction she could see of the room before her only fueled it.

There was a long silence before Lance moved out of Keith’s grip. With long legs, Lance stepped over the broken sill and into the destroyed lab.

“We have to try.”

As much as Shiro wanted to just turn back, there seemed no way to convince the Blue paladin of such. He was too focused, too determined. The only way to get him to leave prematurely would be to drag him out kicking and screaming. For the sake of Lance, and whoever would have to carry him out of the ship, he decided against the notion and instead turned to the remainder of his team.

“Alright guys, split up but keep you comms on. If you run into any trouble just say the word.” He announced. The group nodded and followed the suit of Lance, into the lab.

As much as Keith wanted to follow Lance, he knew that doing so could only do more harm than good. This was something Lance had to do on his own. So he made his way through the room, to the opposite side of where Lance was walking.

More glass littered the floor as it seemed that everything in the room had been completely destroyed. Test tubes and glassware were shattered. Debris was everywhere. Someone had done this on purpose. Someone had wanted to erase whatever work had been done here.

He couldn’t say he was sorry for it. All that they had done to Lance, in his mind they deserved it. He hated them for what they did to Lance.

The small amount of satisfaction had quickly dissipated once he walked closer to one of the aisles of lab tables. At the far end, staring back at him, was a corpse.

The body slouched against the wall, its chest ripped apart and blood was splattered everywhere.

“Holy shit.”

Shiro wasn’t doing any better. He had found three more bodies scattered throughout one of the storage rooms. Each with their chests ripped open, their mouths open in a silent scream.

Pidge and Hunk had set up working on one of the only non destroyed computers hopeful that they could somehow get some information out of it.

Lance had taken his own path, towards the back of the room. The place he called home for 5 months. The room stood no longer. The glass having been given the same fate as everything else. The only evidence that it had even stood was the foundation. The metal that kept the glass connected to the floor.

Without the frosted vision, he was able to make out 6 more foundations. Six more rooms. Six more patients. Five bodies discarded among the debris, now nothing more than nameless faces.

Six experiments.

Four successful trials.

Only one survivor.

It wasn’t until then that Lance noticed the archway behind the holding cells. It must have been obscured before. Or maybe he had just never chanced a look behind him. But it was there now, standing in front of a lightless hallway.

Slowly he made his way towards it. Crossing the threshold, Lance took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust.

The hallway was completely new territory, one he hadn’t even known existed, though he explored it all the same. The fluorescent light at the end of it flickered from where it hung haphazardly from the ceiling, giving off the only bright light in the area.

Lance took a step, then another before he heard something.

“Did you say something guys?” he asked over the comms and various negative responses answered him.

“You good, man?” Lance heard Hunk say.

“Y-yeah, just thought I heard something.”

“We should leave soon, there’s nothing here that can help us.” Keith had never been the one to call a retreat, though Lance assumed it was for his sake. Him being back in the facility put them all on edge.

Keith was right though, the only place that could have held prisoners was completely trashed. There was no one here.

They were too late.

He debated turning back when he heard it again. A high pitch sound that could obviously just be a machine, though no machines were down this way.

“Give me a sec.” he called, before muting his comms and continuing down the hall.

He was surprised to see the metal walls turn to clear glass, shattered but mostly intact. A glass door separated the rooms from the hall, one on each side of him, though both were wide open.

The sound came again, this time a bit clearer. He turned to the right room and stepped inside.

He was greeted by rows upon rows of open topped containers. Many of them tipped over but all of them empty. They almost resembled those plastic tubs his mother used to buy for organization, though the walls of them were much higher.

The ones that were still upright sat on little rolling carts, placards adorning the carts with various numbers.

7839

9846

4562

9843

There were multiples of numbers. Some having been printed on six or seven placards.

The sound came again from the far side of the room. Lance quickly transformed his bayard from its sniper configuration to a simple handgun, and made his way towards the muffled sound. For some reason it almost sounded familiar, as if he had heard it before. Though he couldn’t place his finger on it.

Up until then, the containers had been empty. Clearly though, he was wrong. They were empty, all except for one. As he got closer he understood what the sound was. And he cursed himself for not recognizing it sooner. There was no mistaking what was making it.

He walked to the singular container, the placard reading clearly.

7234

His breath caught in his throat as he approached the cart. What he had previously seen as just a lump was instead a blanket, thick and dark grey in the glowing purple of the emergency lights.

With a shaky hand, Lance reached out to the blanket and with one swift motion pulled it away revealing the one thing he never thought he’d find on this ship.

Large blue eyes stared up at him, as the owner of the cry ceased their noise almost instantly and suddenly everything became clear.

This was how they were going to make their soldiers.

With those bright, blue eyes.

#tw blood #tw gore #tw corpse #vld lance #lance serrano #lance mcclain #i love two blue bois and lance is one of them #langst

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megashadowdragon · 3 years

Video

youtube

ironwoods tragic fall from grace

comments on youtube

When a hero becomes the villain, all hell breaks loose. Especially when the fallen hero is general of the Atlesian army.

The only thing that I noticed was that Ironwood has constantly grown a Beard as time passes. He's slowly decending towards from Hero to Villain as a "Fallen Hero" Catagory. James Ironwood WAS a good man, utterly dedicated to protecting his people. It was with the best of intentions that he charged down the path he’s taken... but you know what they say about good intentions.

I didn’t think his semblance was much of a factor into his decisions before Vol 7 but now as he’s become more unhinged every chapter, it’s becoming even more strikingly obvious that he’s become a slave to it. The fact that his semblance increases his resolve to go through with bargaining with Watts, willing to blow up Mantle just to save Atlas.

He's like the antithesis of Leonardo Lionheart

You know, this is a really good counter for all those people saying Ironwood is suffering character assassination. He's not. He's giving in to fear and letting his worst aspects take command.

I’m personally asking again why would the writers talk about something like Ironwood’s semblance outside the show when for the most part the majority of people only watches the show, that’s like how the Russo brothers (the writers and directors of Avengers Infinity War and Endgame) choose to answer the hows and why on Twitter when the majority of people are only watching the movies I personally love those movies but it also would’ve been nice to see those things get explained or talked about in the movies just like how it would be nice to at least mention Ironwood’s semblance in the show

Honestly, I love what they're doing with Ironwood. His slow, inexorable descent into extremism is a wonderful exploration of how an idealistic person who believes themself to be the hero can tumble into villainy without trusting others to keep them grounded. It's the very real problem of the philosophy of "The ends justify these particular means;" if you can justify one morally gray decision to achieve a good goal, it gets easier to justify the next, darker gray decision. Without someone outside to call you on your bullshit, you're eventually justifying genocide because it will be for the "greater good."

Ironwood is literally the Darth Vader of RWBY. He starts of as a respectable character, commanding his own army for the good of all. But he gives in to all of his fears, looses a limb or 2, and slowly turns misguidedly evil, willing to kill ANYONE who stands in his way.

I've said before that Team Rwby is a foil to the Headmasters. Ruby keeping secrets like Oz, Leo/Blake, the faunus who ran away when things got hard, and Ironwood's parallel is Yang.

Not just obvious stuff, like both having metal arms. But both of their semblances are double edged sword. Yang get stronger taking damage, but if she leans on it too much, an enemy that takes one hit just destroys her since she can't fight back. Volume 4 has her training with Taiyang to correct this flaw in her thinking, leading to her overcoming Adam in her rematch in V6.

Ironwood's semblance can be incredibly powerful. Just off the top of my head, he basically no sells the Apathy, which is an incredibly dangerous Grimm in a group with other, stronger Grimm. But it has downsides, and we're seeing it. The correct way to use it is after you've made a choice, to focus on the task at hand. But making large choices while under the semblance is not smart. He's too focused on one action to see others that have opened. Atlas has to be raised, because that's what he's already decided to do. The idea that they've made contact with the world and reinforcements might be coming never entered his mind. Similarly, he's so focused on forcing Penny to heel that he's not seeing he has a chance to have her come willingly by aiding in Mantle's rescue.

He's so focused on winning this one battle (Having Penny raise the city to escape Salem immediately) that's he's making choices to doom the larger war (defending the kingdom's people, defeating Salem, reuniting the world).

He clearly knows that it isn't smart to rely on it this way, since he's shown the ability to take criticism and adjust his thinking in Volume 7 (Nora would've been Slate'd if he couldn't). But the combination of Yang/Blake going behind his back to tell Robyn, Ruby/Oscar not telling him the truth, Qrow seemingly killing Clover, and, right when he thought that he'd saved everyone, the idea that every single thing he's done might've been exactly what Salem wanted has fairly understandably shaken his faith in the others around him. He can't rely on them to rein him in, he has to do that... which is exactly the problem with his semblance. If the only person who can stop you is yourself, and you're convinced you're always right, you've doomed yourself.

I'm assuming that he could probably be talked down by Glynda or potentially Oz or Qrow (fat chance of that one) if they can break his aura, but as it stands, unless someone beats him down, he's not going to be able to stop himself.

With Ironwood I am reminded of a very profound quote from CS Lewis, that I feel summarizes him very well: "Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron’s cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience. They may be more likely to go to Heaven yet at the same time likelier to make a Hell of earth. This very kindness stings with intolerable insult. To be “cured” against one’s will and cured of states which we may not regard as disease is to be put on a level of those who have not yet reached the age of reason or those who never will; to be classed with infants, imbeciles, and domestic animals."Show less

Dude Ironwood didn't have a problem with trusting people and didn't have a mentality of not being able to trust people. He trusted to much and trusted people who both betrayed his trust (Yang/Blake) and didn't reciprocate the trust he gave them (Ruby and the rest of the main cast). Honestly, he would have been perfectly right to have immediately put the relic of knowledge into the vault at the start of v7 and then send the students on their way and have nothing more to do with them.

Ironwood saw Atlas and his fleet as a way to inspire hope. It's ironic that his plan was one of lifting them up so high that nobody would ever be able to see them anymore.

My only criticism with Ironwood is that I really really wish his semblance was brought up in the show. Are they ever going to bring it up? I absolutely LOVE how he has been written and watching his tragic descent into becoming a villain but having his semblance mentioned in show would be great. Is someone going to have to break his aura or something before he or someone else mentions it?

In a way he is. His semblance is a double edge sword, as someone in Ironwood's position is all about making calls. Ironwood was able to climb through the ranks because his semblance allowed him to follow through with his actions to save people (I also still wonder what happend to halve of his body as he already had a metal leg and arm in volume 2, we can asume the paladin project, but some confirmation would be wonderfull). Now he's following through on his words agains Salem, that Ironwood isn't going to let Salem take the relic of creation. Ironwood essentially only has this thought he is focused on and is disregarding everything else. Right now Salem is piecing herself together again and Penny is going to the vault, if Ironwood semblance of Mettle wasn't interfering he would be able to see the bigger picture of let Penny open the vault, take out the staff of cration and chuck whatever goop Salem is right now with the bit of land she is piecing herself on right now and throw that into the vault and close it for good by blocking off the entrance with concrete. Voila. Ironwood doesn't notice at this point his actions as he even thought councilman Slate, who was asking Ironwood to explain his action got put down by Ironwood himself. Same for Marrow later on, but Winter was able to step in. Ironwood needs to be saved from this mindset and I think the team up of Qrow and Robyn (also who ever was on the elevator, I think it was Winter and Marrow as Winter was taking him away to be put in jail) could save Ironwood to the point of breaking his aura that way the influence of Mettle will loosen.

Gonna be honest, I dislike the whole concept of his semblance and it being what's driving him to this is just dumb to me. I loved him as a character and this entire volume feels like every bit that made him an interesting character has been ripped away. It's likely just me, but prior to Oscar using the built-up magic to beat Salem it felt like they had painted themselves into a corner. Either Ironwood was proven right that some sacrifices had to be made for the good of the people, or Salem was going to be beaten and even if she can come back, she no longer feels like a huge threat to me. I loved Ironwood in volume seven and many of team RWBY's choices have infuriated me for how contrived and stupid they manage to be while also contradicting themselves so easily. To be frank, I feel like his semblance was just an excuse for this utterly stupid character assassination they're trying to justify.Show less

I kind of feel like the writers 'forced' Ironwood to become a villain. Some of his decisions just don't make sense.

#rwby #james ironwood #rwby ironwood #rwby volume 8 spoilers

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itstheimpossibledream · 4 years

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Buttons PT.2

Will probably make this a four part smut series.All characters belong to the supernatural franchise. Feedback is always welcome! Please do not post or use my fics without my written Permission.Thanks! The first part was posted last week!

Summary: You’ve hooked up with Sam before but now that Dean knows you’re trying to play it cool and figure out the next step. Light smut💗

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You settle into the back of the impala pulling your blazer over your chest wishing you could be invisible for just a moment. So Dean knew you fucked his brother in the bathroom of a morgue. Your classiest move? Definitely not. But how embarrassed could you be ? It was perfect . Not the first time with Sam that you had planned but, also not one you could ever forget. You shift on the leather of the seat and you hear a squish of your panties as you move. You make a mental note to ditch that thong the second you get to another bathroom. Sam makes small talk with Dean about the new particulars of the case and you are grateful for the distraction. Flipping through the pages, you try to decide who is the first employee you should interview.

"Right (Y/N) ?" Dean says. You realize you had completely zoned out and snap your head up to see Dean looking into the rearview mirror." Busy back there?" he snorts.

"You know you have a lot of questions today Dean." you retort smiling smugly into the mirror. Sam shifts nervously in his seat and while you're grateful that he invited you, you're nervous that having had him like that has made your relationship incredibly awkward. Would he want to do it again ? It seemed like he would but no words passed between you after. how was this going to work ? I mean realistically, you could never really be with him. You could not date a Winchester. Do Winchester's even date? Handsome and mannerable as they were, they were not the kind of people who could settle down and have a family, not that you were the kind of person who could have a family. The best you could even hope for, was being picked up as a third wheel for hunting with the brothers. Sure, you may never be a wife or a bake sale mom but was that even what you wanted? Dean pulled into a parking spot behind a small diner and the brothers escorted you inside. Lunch was quiet, there was a tension there for sure.

"So uhhh I think I'm going to try to talk to the first victim's husband again." you attempt to break the silence while nibbling on a fry.

" I'm so sure you are." Dean mumbles and you let it slide because he is allowed to be annoyed. The way you guys conducted yourselves was unprofessional and who knows the last time Dean got laid. You feel Sam tense next to you and you're grateful that he doesn't stoop to Dean's level. Pushing his salad around with his fork, you find you are way too nervous to look up , to look at him.

" I just mean that I think I can get him to talk, you know?" you say shyly.

" It seems like you can get a lot of people to do a lot of things they normally wouldn't huh ?" Dean snaps back coldly. Sam kicks him swiftly under the table but you notice it. Sam still hasn't looked up."I think it was the wrong place and a really wrong time. And I'm not going to pretend like no one knows what's going on when-" Sam leans in impatiently, finally breaking his gaze from his fork.

"Dean shut the fuck up." he quips. You see his adams apple bob as of he is about to say something else but, to both of your surprise, telling Dean to shut the fuck up actually worked. Dean shakes his head and throws his napkin down into his plate, grumbling something about needing to go outside. You both watch him leave and there is a heft to the silence once again. You finish your water,your straw making an awful noise as you suck around the ice at the bottom of the glass, painful silence.

"So ummm, I guess we should go meet him outside ."

"Why?" Sam snorts clearly not half as sympathetic as you are for his own brother.

" Because he's your brother.......Because he's right. Mainly because he drove." you laugh trying to diffuse whatever possible anger was there. Sam turns toward you in the small diner booth and says

"He's mad because he's jealous. That's all......and it doesn't give him the right to act like a child." You don't know what to say which prompts another long silence. How in the hell could Dean be jealous ? Did he ever think of you like that?

"Sooooooo we are not going to the car then?" you ask for clarity

"I think he needs a second to cool off. " Sam says.

"O. okay ..........So what should we do while we wait for that ?" Sam leans in close to you and plants a kiss right under your ear.

"Well" he says " There is a bathroom. " he kisses your neck more and you feel your eyes flutter at the sensation. If Dean thought he hated us before he would really hate this.

" We can not do that. Your brother will absolutely riot." you barely protest while he laps at your neck placing his hand on your knee. God that feels good.

"Are you sure?" he breathes into your neck. You do not get the chance to answer before he says " Maybe we don't have to go anywhere." his hand slowly working it's way up from your knee. "Maybe we can have fun right here." he says, his hand disappearing under the skirt of your dress. You watch his arm work and you are too nervous to look around and see if anyone is looking. The booth was in the back of the restaurant and the diner was not busy but on principle you knew it was something to be embarrassed of. You have never been this kinky. You know he can feel that your panties are still wet from before and you know he loves the thought that all he is doing now is adding to that puddle in your seat. He lowers his voice and whispers into your ear " No one is looking at us. You don't have to pretend like you don't love it." You push your back into the booth bracing yourself for the waves that you know are about to come. His middle and index finger curl into you and you are grateful for the pressure of his palm on your clit. "See Dean doesn't understand I can have you whenever I want because I know how to turn you on." he lightly bites at your neck and you let a slight whimper escape. It was true.You were just fine being his fuck toy.His fingers foraging deeper into you "Do you think anyone else could make you this wet?" you meet his gaze not saying anything ,for fear that your voice may betray you. He smirks and continues , his long fingers stroking your walls as you calmly try to move your hips into him. "You feel amazing(Y/N) " he breathes into your ear. You hate him for doing this to you. For opening you up like this in public but, it is also one the most exhilarating sexual encounters you have ever had in your life. "Earlier, I wanted to fuck you so bad I couldn't wait to get you alone. That's why I tricked you into the bathroom. " you are choking back a scream of pleasure, you just want him to shut up and let you ride his hand. Being in public was bad enough but him dirty talking to you like this was a whole different level of torture. "I had to do it. You looked so hot in that dress.......I'm just sorry I rushed it." he smiles and you bite the inside of your cheek, sure you're going to explode any minute. "I couldn't wait." he laughs "But I never got to taste you." he says going back to your neck and kissing a spot that you are sure has to be a permanent mark now. Your eyes roll back and you think about just letting it out and cumming as loud as you want .

The bill thuds to the table and you feel his arm stiffen but his fingers are still exploring inside you. He had a card right in the pocket of his jacket ,like he was ready for her to come over and you watch as he gingerly places it on the plastic tray for her to take it away.O he was good at this. She turns to leave and immediately his eyes are back on you " Do you like it when I play with your pussy?" he asks, testing you. He finger fucks you a little quicker now and you feel like your whole body could just float away and no one would notice. "I have to tell you." he whispers "Now that I know how tight that pretty little pussy is I plan to play with it a lot more." you lean against him looking up at the ceiling you close your eyes and ride the wave of that orgasm as silently as you could. He quickly pulls his fingers out of you, dips them in his mouth and then grabs the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss. You kiss him and you can taste yourself on his tongue. You hate to admit it but, you like it. It makes you feel like he belongs to you. The waitress returns with the receipt and he quickly scribbles a signature, throws down a cash tip and gets up from the table slinging his suit jacket over his shoulder. You move your hips adjusting your underwear and pull your dress back down to where it should be.

"Ladies first" he motions for you to walk ahead of him. You switch your hips knowing he only suggested that so that he could look at your ass, and why not give him a show. You make it to the door of the diner and as he presses the glass to open you get hit with a cold rush of the outside air and wonder, what the fuck just happened ?

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oftenderweapons · 3 years

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Small Town Swoons

Hello buttercups! Here is the big fat project I was talking about. I am giving you snippets and teasers of the whole thing, just to let you know what you’re all getting yourself into.

There are some spicy tidbits here and there, so I would suggest only mature (18+) people read and/or engage with this post.

I’ll be starting with Yoongi since his piece is really in the holiday spirit and I’m super hella inspired to write it, but don’t worry, Steamy waters is still coming (just know that I’m not done publishing stuff for the night 👀)

Let me know what you think about this project, what story you like the most and which one you really really look forward to reading 💕✨

Just in case you need it, here is my masterlist

Enjoy 💜

Apple of My Pie — Jin

In the bakery and café near the university many students barge in, desperate for coffee and the delicious apple pies served there once October comes. Some of them barge in for the sweet sight of the owner, still mysteriously single. Little do you know that he’s been pining after you for years, since you ran into his café in a slow, rainy Sunday morning, drenched like a stray kitten, asking only for friendly help. Friendship sparks easily and his comfort tastes as sweet as autumn apples. That’s how you find yourself flatmates, watching movies with his secret recipe hot cocoa on Saturday evenings and waking up to the delicious scent of his pies on Sunday morning. But the sudden apparition of a rival makes you wonder, what would it be like to fall asleep in his bed every night?

Mold Me New — Taehyung

Divorce is a mess, especially when you’re so young and you had bet your life on your high school crush. All those things you never had to learn are scary now: dating, friends with benefits, all those secret rules on social interactions and flirting. But then your friends gift you a clay modelling lesson at the local pottery. Your teacher looks like a quiet, grumpy man who slowly warms up to you, offering you his kind smiles and gentle laughs. Right when fear that your lack in courtship manners might cost you your greatest chance at a new happiness, his lessons indirectly turn into small advice, and suddenly it feels like his hands are shaping your heart into the perfect, beautiful whole you needed. And to show him your gratitude, you’re more than willing to gift the artist his creation.

“Don’t let it dry too much. Too much water will mess it up. It will become too pliant and it won’t hold up.” That was it. The rule to love. You had bathed him in reassurance and affection, and just like that he had melted underneath your touch, and he had turned into nothing. And the love had run out. “Every shape has its specific requirements.” He explained, dipping his hands in the basin and letting the droplets fall from his fingertips. “Wet hands, but not drenched.” Once he was happy with the result he sat up, his foot starting a small pressure on the pedal. “See, here we go. The clay will show how much water it needs. Easy on the pedal. Very slow. You’re warming it up. Be gentle. You’re not sure it’s good. Just like with people. Easy at first, and once it works you speed up.” He smiled at the material underneath his hands. “Gentle. Easy.” He said, his sinewy fingers gently pressing into the art piece to be. His fingers seemed to stretch and bend imperceptibly, as if he was feeling the very texture of the material, and of the final result he wanted to obtain. “That’s the secret to good things.”

The Shrew, Untamed — Jimin

Everyone gets married in small towns. The hairdresser’s daughter, the butcher’s niece, the doctor’s granddaughter. Even your best friend. And someone has to organise all the weddings. You have taken part in so many it is unnerving. You’re not asking for a husband, a simple fuckbuddy would suffice. You don’t even need someone with skill, you just need to have sex with a human. Though your goal seems unattainable and life apparently truly sucks, the petty florist where you order the flower arrangements offers you a beacon of hope, comforting you and spoiling you whenever you visit his shop, condescending to your every whim. Will he satisfy your every wish or will you have to supervision your best friend’s wedding on the verge of sanity?

“Sit down, sweet pea.” He said, offering you his chair. He immediately stood behind you, digging his fingers into your shoulders, massaging them. He always smelled like greenery. It was relaxing. “Who pissed on your roses, tiger?” He asked, his thumbs drawing circles at the base of your neck. You moaned and closed your eyes. “Poor baby. So stressed.” He purred, laughing. “Portia is getting married.” You groaned. He ohed. “Your friend, Portia?” You frowned and pouted. “That bitch. Portia.” You growled. He laughed a silvery sound. “It’s your best friend.” “It’s a stressed out insult. She wants me to plan it. Jimin, I am so tired of watching people getting married.” He kneaded the nerves near to your spine. “It’s a professional hazard, baby’s breath.” His finger stilled as he reached the middle of your back without finding the clasp of your bra. He moved upwards, ignoring the small detail. “It’s the third in two weeks. I can’t. Is everybody getting married this spring?” You asked, your head rolling forward. “I’m tired. Stressed. Grumpy.” You whine. “Baby, you have your sugarcane at home, use it.” He said, referring to your swirl shaped dildo. You shook your head. “It’s the warmth. Human touch. Sympathy.” Ask me, please — Jimin mentally begged — I’ll be so sweet to you. “And now I even need a plus one for Portia’s wedding. Lest she pairs me up with her cousin. Did I mention that he’s thirty and bald?” You sighed. “I can help.” He said. “With the Plus one.” He clarified. “Don’t expect me to get my fingers in your pie, blossom.” He stated. You shook your head. “Your loss.” You tutted. His loss, for sure. Not like you wanted him massaging your breasts as you sucked him off, laying on your white silk sheets, his dulcet moans filling your lonely room and your empty

Natural Connection — Namjoon

The city sucks. And before you definitely choose to resign from your job, you spend the money earned with your all-work-and-no-play attitude in a reinvigorating holiday in a natural resort in the woods. What you find is true heaven on earth, an eden of wonders and explorations. When you meet your guide, who will follow you and you alone, you almost cannot believe your luck. The closed-off man leads you through all the breathtaking sights of your location, offering you emotions and landscapes unrivalled — both in terms of wildlife and... well, humans? The steamy atmosphere seems to keep growing hotter together with the summer days, and before you can think twice your big friendly giant helps you get rid of the hots. What happens when your Adam and Eve idyllium gets interrupted by a ruckus of stag-partying jocks?

Namjoon knew your average blood pressure at rest and under effort, your shoe size, your weight and height. Still when he found you right before him he could barely believe the sight of you. He knew you were small but this small? He was surprised. Amazed. Completely dazzled by your size. “Uhm. Kim Namjoon?” You asked, hesitant. God, even your voice was small — he noticed. As you got even closer, he realised you barely reached his sternum. He was endeared. He imagined how hugging you would feel. Why was he imagining to hug a stranger? “Hello! Welcome to the Valley!” He said, offering you his hand. You took it and shook it energetically. “Thank you. I assume you will be my guide during my stay.” You commented. “Exactly. I'll be your coach and your guide through the whole experience.” “Perfect.” You smiled. He was dumbstruck by it. So sweet and bright. You noticed he had a nice voice. And a kind smile. He looked like a very gentle giant. “Have you brought any specific equipment with you or would you prefer to use the one we offer?” “I have trekking boots and walking sticks. You know, basic stuff that's difficult to find when you're the size of a teapot.” He laughed a loud belly laugh, which surprised you and pleased you. “Okay, we can head to the hall and chat about your activity plan.” He said, leading you. Walking behind him was definitely a hard challenge, both because his legs were kilometric — and damn fine — and because how could you not stare at that ass right in front of your gaze, clad in oh-so tight shorts? Once he realized you were basically running behind him, he turned, a bit confused. And then embarrassed. “Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly, taking shorter steps. "Don't worry, it's okay. I'm a fast walker." You stated. He grinned. He barely stopped himself from murmuring a 'cute'. You were adorable.

Ink ‘n’ Run — Jungkook

People find awful ways to inculcate mean insecurities in our lives. It is to get rid of insecurity that you head to the talented tattooist in a small town near your campus, ready to ink your fears away. Ready to start from zero, you let yourself enjoy a night out clubbing and a steamy one night stand with a tattoed god. Hit by the morning-after regrets, you run away before he wakes up. Little do you know that he’ll be the man you’ll be spending several hours underneath, half-naked as he inks you. Such a shame that you keep running away each time he is ready to ask you for a date. And that he keeps running away after you convince yourself to concede him one. Will you manage to let each other see that you click perfectly or will you let that night be just an accident?

“Oh. You’re back. Lovely to see you, how can I help you?” He looks sweet. God, he was sweet, of course he looks sweet; you thought. He was the most gentle man you had ever been with. Wicked hips, but such a sweet mouth. “Uhm, I have an appointment?” You said, showing him the business card with the date and time of your appointment. “Oh.” His expression was the perfect depiction of confusion. “Uhm. I guess you can come into my studio, then. Do you have someone with you? Would you like Daisy to come in?” He said, looking at the girl sitting at the reception table. “No, I’m cool.” You forced yourself to form a tiny, polite smile on your face. As he walked ahead of you you noticed the way his tight black t-shirt hugged his narrow waist. And his wonderful, jeans-clad, toned ass. God, he had rammed into you like a mad man that night. You shook your head, trying to bring yourself back to reality. Meanwhile, his mind was fuelled by millions of questions. Why had you run? Were you freaked out by what was happening? Were you as affected as he was at the idea of him working on you? Did you think he was a fuckboy? Would you let him take you out on a date? Would you let him fuck you again? Wait, scratch the last one.

Head over Heals — Hoseok

You are the most talented ice skater of your state. Or rather, you were. Your career was harshly interrupted by an unfortunate accident. Healing from the hurtful events takes strong nerves and positive energy. Luckily, your physiotherapist — the neighbour of your childhood home — is the most positive, enthusiastic person. New feelings bloom like daisies on a warm spring morning, while old feelings rekindle and light your way back home like a field of fireflights, back to places that you’ve always loved. It takes little time to get used again to his sweet energy and his gentle hands, healing your body and your soul. It takes even less time to fall head over heels for him.

“What changed?” He asked, drying your tear with his thumb. “I don’t know. It feels like it changed.” He smiled. “You’re still the same to me. Same bright eyed little girl running around in a summer dress, smelling like honey shampoo and sun cream. You feel like home. I think nothing has been okay since you were gone.” Your heart took a second to melt and resolidify around that new truth. “Hobi.” His eyes were glittering. “I think I always had a soft spot for you. You and your knees always scraped, the small curls framing your face, the way your braids came undone that night as we were driving away after prom in the convertible your parents ran away in when they eloped.” He looked so sad. And so beautiful. “Hoseok, I never forgot you, you know. You were my first.” You confessed. “And you were mine.” He replied. He paused. “We were perfect.” “We were.” You replied. We still could be. We are.

Sugar and Spice — Yoongi

A new girl moves into town, her goal starting her life from scrap. And then on a foggy autumn night she ventures in the local pub, where she meets a cute, tattooed bartender who happens to be the local sweetheart. Fate — and the sweet granny next door — seem to push them together; it’s only a matter of time before feelings bloom and attraction becomes too intense to resist. The magic of a small town, and that loneliness that they share and understand so deeply, bring them close at the most wonderful time of the year. Love can blossom even in the dead of winter and who knows, maybe they’ll find a new life by the time of the new year?

“How does it feel to live in a small town?” You asked, stretching your legs out the flannel blanket. Sunlight came in through the yellow leaves of the apple trees. “Like time doesn’t really exist. Until you don’t have any left and suddenly your friends are getting married and having children and all you have is a useless piece of paper stating that you’re a doctor.” He said. “But it’s okay. It’s lovely, at times like this.” He said, looking at the sky. “Marriage and kids are overrated.” You said, laying down. He looked at you, your eyes closed, your hair coming out of his beanie, currently covering your head. “Don’t leave me alone here.” You had a beauty he had never known. Or that maybe he had seen in his mother. That rough, tough beauty that looks dangerous from afar. Delicate from up close. You weren’t gracious. You weren’t cobwebs and golden hair and clouds. You were the ground, the trees, the stone. You were the mountains capped in ice, beautiful and so endangered. Still, so steady. You were the forest, eternal. Nothing could marr you. No man, no humanly disgrace. You would weather and transform, like nature does. Maybe he was idealising you, maybe he was giving you all those traits he had always wished in a woman. “Stop staring at me. Lay down. Enjoy your seconds before you turn into a fifty-something lonesome worm.” You teased. He laid. Your hand found his. “I’ll tell you how a small town feels like, based on the opinion of a girl from a big city.” He exhaled a laugh. “It’s comfort. Like when it rains outside but you’re in your bed and you’re warm and you don’t have to get up. You can simply lay.” He rolled onto his side, staring at your eyelashes. If I blink, will she disappear?

#bangtan sonyeondan #Bts blog #bts fanfiction #bts au masterlist #bts au teaser #bts fic

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abundanceofsoph · 3 years

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SkyFire 3: Chapter 9

BBC Radio 1 Breakfast Show with Nick Grimshaw : October 2017

Word count: 3.8k

SkyFire 3 MASTERLIST

Please for the love of god, if you like the story just hit the reblog button. I’m starting to run out of motivation to post since no one ever shares these chapters.

>Instagram posts

After the Phoenix show, the band took a weeklong break before meeting back up in Paris to kick off the European leg of the tour. During their break, Adam returned home to his young family and Sarah and Mitch took a short vacation together, while Aurora and Harry joined Niall in celebrating the release of his debut album, Flicker. They, along with Liam, Louis and some of Niall’s friends and family all arrived at his London house for dinner and drinks to celebrate the launch after Niall had spent the day doing press. It was a really casual evening, with everyone scattered throughout the living room, kitchen, and heated patio. Later in the evening Aurora found herself sandwiched on the sofa between Liam and Louis while Harry was off being the social butterfly he was, flitting from one conversation to the next. Rori loved that about the two of them, as much as they loved each other they never felt the need to be glued to each other’s sides when out with friends. She had just finished filling the boys in on the excitement of the first leg of the tour when Liam posed a question.

“I noticed you guys have a 2 week break between Milan and Singapore,” he said. “Got anything planned?”

“We’re planning to be home for 8 or 9 days and then fly to Singapore a few days early to hopefully explore a little,” Rori explained. “Why?”

“Well I was wondering if you wanted to get in the studio with me,” Liam replied. “Lou and I wrote a song a few months back and the demo I put together got selected for the next Fifty Shades soundtrack, but they want it to be a duet. We thought you’d be the perfect fit.”

“Oooh, that sounds like fun,” Rori smiled. “Do you have the demo on your phone?” Liam nodded and Rori fished her AirPods out of her purse and quickly linked them with Liam’s phone to listen through the track. “I love it!” she declared once it reached the end. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun.”

They were interrupted from continuing by a slightly tipsy Niall calling everyone’s attention to where he was standing on the coffee table.

“EVERYONE!” Niall yelled. “I just wanna thank ya all for being here to celebrate all of this. It’s mental that after so many months my baby is finally out in the world and every single one of you played a part in helping make this happen.”

“TO NIALL!” Rori yelled, raising her glass in the air. Everyone echoed her words, cheersing the jolly Irishman.

xXx

A week and a half after Niall’s album launch, after shows in both Paris and Cologne, the Styles’ were back in London for two back to back shows in Hammersmith. The day after the shows, before they headed up to Manchester Harry was due to appear on Nick Grimshaw’s breakfast show on BBC Radio One as Kiwi was releasing as a single that day. Unfortunately, when Harry came of the stage after the second show his voice was in shambles. The tour doctor headed straight for Harry’s dressing room and after a quick consult he was placed on vocal rest for the next 36 hours in preparation for the next show. Aurora immediately called Grimmy to explain the situation while Jeff attempted not to panic before joining her on the call. After much discussion between the 3 of them and many eye rolls from Harry, it was decided that Aurora would attend the interview the following morning so that Nick wasn’t left hanging without a guest and Harry would stay home to rest before travelling up to Manchester in the afternoon.

xXx

“Good morning you’re listening to BBC Radio One, I’m Nick Grimshaw and this morning I was supposed to be joined by Mr Harry Styles but unfortunately Hazza’s come down with a bit of a cold so he’s sent along his wonderful wife to fill in for him. Aurora thank you for joining me.”

“Thank you for having me Grimmy,” Rori replied. “Wish it was a bit later in the day, but you did buy me a coffee so I’ll let you off without too many complaints.”

“How generous of you love,” Nick smirked.

“Only for you,” she giggled, throwing a wink across the table towards her friend.

“So, I had all these fantastic, insightful question for Harry about the album and the tour and the release of Kiwi as a single today, but alas I’ve had to throw all that out the window. Figured since I’m bluffing the questions, we might have a bit of fun today and given that it’s Hazzas fault you’re up this early, what do you say we have that fun at his expense?”

“Are you gonna get me in trouble when I get home Nick?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it love. Besides we both know he’d never get mad at you, that boy is smitten with you.”

“We’ll see about that. What sort of fun did you have in mind?”

“How about we throw to a song and when we come back, I’ll start with a few softball questions.”

“You’re going to play nicely, aren’t you?” Rori asked as the mics were muted and a song started playing for the listeners.

“Of course,” Nick smiled. “I know where your boundaries are, and I text Harry last night to see what he was comfortable with us discussing in regards to song meanings and he gave us the all clear.”

“Alright then,” Rori sighed. “I guess it’s too late now to back out.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Nick laughed. “We’re gonna have a fun morning. You ready? Song’s almost done.”

Aurora nodded and readjusted her headphones.

“Welcome back, if you’re just tuning in, I’m joined this morning by the one and only Aurora Styles. Now Rori, your husband Harry, he’s a good mate of mine and the fans listening at home will be very aware that our boy H doesn’t like to talk about his private life much but between us gals I’ve got a few questions.”

“Oh god.”

“Now, now. We’ll have none of that. I’m wondering what married life is like?”

“It’s wonderful,” Rori answered. “We’ve been married for a little over 7 months now and it couldn’t be better.”

“And you’ve been together for what, 4 years now?”

“Something like that,” Rori agreed.

“What was it that first made you fall for him?”

“Oh um... I’m not sure what the first thing was, it just kind of happened. The dimples certainly didn’t hurt,” she joked. “But in all seriousness, I think it was just how genuine he was.”

“Boring,” Nick replied, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“No, I’m serious,” Rori laughed. “We met at the AMAs right before my first ever solo performance and I was in the middle of a panic attack and he just sat down next to me in the hallway and talked to me until I calmed down. We’d never met before and he just saw me freaking out and thought ‘I’m gonna help her’. You don’t find a lot of genuinely kind people in this industry and he’s always astounded me with how selfless he is.”

“That’s too cute. It’s disgusting. How do you manage being in a relationship with someone who is idolized by such an intensely loyal fan base?”

“Honestly, I love Harry’s fans. How could I not? They love the same things in him that I do. They recognize his talent and his kindness and they’re so supportive of everything he does. I’m honestly just so proud of him so of course I love his fans because he deserves to be adored.”

“You’re very sappy this morning sweetheart,” Nick replied. “Don’t get me wrong I’m loving it, you’re normally much sassier with me when you’re more awake. So how has it been being on tour with Harry and being a part of the band?”

“Oh my god, it’s so much fun. We have the best time when we’re all playing together, and we all get along so easily that it never feels like work. The tour has been incredible so far, getting to play this fantastic album to so many fans. I’m very lucky. There aren’t a lot of careers where you get to spend every day with your husband doing what you both love.”

“Speaking of the incredible album let’s play the new single Kiwi and when we come back, we might have a bit of a chat about the other tracks.”

After Kiwi finished, Nick grinned cheekily across the desk at Aurora as he welcomed the listeners back. “And we are back everyone, now before the song break, we were discussing Harry Styles, the self-titled debut of Harry Styles and Aurora I’d love to pick your brain about it since you were involved in the entire creation process, weren’t you?”

“From writing to recording,” Rori agreed.

“So which track is your favourite?”

“That’s tough. There are a lot of very personal songs on the album and in one way or another they’re all my favourites for very narcissistic reasons, but I think if I had to pick one, I think I have to pick Sweet Creature. It’s just a beautiful song.”

“You would pick a song written for you as your favourite.”

“I mean in my defence every song on the album is either about me or I wrote it so there was no humble way to answer that question, and also Nick,” she paused, smirking in anticipation for the rest of her sentence, “who said it’s about me?”

“Wait. Are you saying you’re not Harry’s Sweet Creature? Well who is it about? Did he step out on you?” Nick joked.

Aurora chuckled. “No, he didn’t step out on me, and I’m not telling you. She knows who she is and all I’ll say is that not all love is romantic love. Besides everyone who assumed it was about me didn’t even really listen to the song. I mean how could we have started out as ‘two hearts in one home’?”

“Well I’m sure all the fans listening are having a bit of a breakdown right now over that,” Nick laughed. “I want to come back to talking about the album later, but since you’ve never been shy about addressing fan theories, I thought it might be a bit of fun to look at what fans are talking about online. I’ve taken to Twitter, Instagram and Tumblr overnight to find out what's on their minds, what do you say Rori?”

“Let’s do it,” Rori replied.

“Excellent. Let’s play a song first and when we come back, we’ll be addressing fan questions, and speculations. This is Taylor Swift with Look What You Made Me Do.”

While the song played Rori and Nick talked and joked around about what he had found online and he promised, once again, that he wouldn’t put her in any uncomfortable situations.

“Welcome back,” Nick said. “This morning we’re answering the internets burning questions with Aurora Styles. First ones gonna be a soft ball Rors. It’s from twitter user @IwouldSellMyLeftKidneyForAuroraStark, who tweeted: My life is in desperate need for an Aurora Styles solo album/tour. Who do I have to kill to make this happen? So, when are we getting your solo work, love?”

“Oh wow, that’s very sweet,” Aurora replied with a blush, “But please don’t sell your kidney for me, you’re gonna need that. As for the solo work, while I appreciate the support, I don’t think I will ever go solo. I enjoy the collaborative process too much and a solo tour just wouldn’t be as much fun as touring with Harry. I will continue posting covers and demos to my YouTube channel and we have been tossing around the idea of a demo tape album so maybe you will get an album from me at some point.”

“Well I for one would be first in line for a vinyl of your Demo Tapes series,” Nick replied. “I found a tweet with a theory about some of your songs from twitter user @HarrysSuits. How cute is it that Aurora Styles has like 5 Songs that she’s written either about or with Harry that have the same or very similar titles to 1D songs? I mean there’s The Little Things, Just You and I, Still I Fly, Where I Belong, and All Night.”

“I mean when you lay it out like that there’s definitely a trend,” Rori admitted with a chuckle.

“You didn’t do it intentionally?” Nick asked.

“Not at all. Yikes. Makes me sound like a bit of a fan girl doesn’t it? Naming all my songs after theirs?”

“A little bit,” Nick chuckled, holding up his hand with his thumb and forefinger pinched together.

“How embarrassing,” Rori said sarcastically.

“Very embarrassing,” Nick replied with a matching tone. “I hope they don’t notice because how awkward would it be if they know you’re a fan?”

“I’d die.”

“Thank god this is a private chat that no one else is listening too,” Nick laughed. “Ok so earlier in the show you hinted at the story behind Sweet Creature and I was hoping, since Hazza isn’t here to stop us, we can dive into the rest of the album. The fans and I couldn’t help but notice that there seems to be a bit of a common theme throughout the album with it being tied into the Columbia shooting and I've got a fan observation here from the account @18monthsTheySaid, it’s quite an in-depth thread but I’d love to get your take on it so here we go:

Whatever you do, don’t think about the fact that at least 4 tracks off HS1 are about Aurora and the Columbia shooting. These are obviously just my interpretations of the songs and I might be wrong but I’m gonna say it anyway.

Meet me in the Hallway: I think this is about the immediate aftermath. He’s roaming the hospital hallways, needing pain relief and he’s ‘gotta get better’ because he feels the need to pull himself together and be there for Aurora. He’s begging her ‘Just let me know…’ because he’d do anything to fix it or make it easier for her.

Sign of the Times is probably one of the most overt ones on the album, I mean ‘why are we always stuck’n running from the bullets’? and I’m pretty sure ‘we don’t talk enough… will we ever learn?’ is about how we can never seem to have an actual conversation about gun reform in this country and until we do we’ll never change.

Two Ghosts: ‘we’re not who we used to be’ is obviously about the fact that they both changed so much in the wake of the shooting and I think the idea of them being ghosts is Harry examining the alternative reality where she didn’t survive and maybe he wouldn’t have survived it either.

Ever Since New York: I mean the title says it all really. ‘Tell me something I don’t already know’ is maybe asking the doctors for better news because she went through so many surgeries and the results were always the same. And ‘Brooklyn saw me empty at the news’ I think is reference to Rori’s dad, Steve Rogers who’s from Brooklyn and some of the Avengers call him that occasionally in interviews.”

Aurora remained silent for a moment once Nick finished reading out the twitter thread. She was so often blown away by how observant the fans were and how much they picked up on. “When we sat down to write the album in 2016 we were so heavily stuck in the aftermath of Columbia that I don’t think it’s a surprise to anyone that a lot of the album is in reference to what happened to me and the fallout from that,” she explained. “This album was about us piecing ourselves back together in many ways and I think if you listen to the whole thing you can hear that entire process of us healing together. The incredible thing about Harry as a songwriter and as a performer is that he’s always been so good at making you feel exactly what he’s feeling when he sings, and clearly people are picking up on that tone and over-arching theme.”

“Was it difficult to write about what happened?” Nick asked.

“Some days,” Rori admitted. “There were a lot of tears but the thing I love the most about music, and the entire song writing process, is that it’s the best form of therapy. When I’m writing I can admit to feelings I wouldn’t otherwise be able to talk about. You can be really vulnerable in way that feels safe and comforting and then when you’re able to share that with the world and you let them in, it’s an incredible experience.”

“And I think I speak for everyone when I say how much we appreciate you and Harry letting us in. Now before either of us get too mushy, let’s throw it over to your favourite track off the album. This is Sweet Creature.”

While the song played, Nick looked across the desk to where Aurora was taking a deep breathe to steady her nerves after talking about something so personal. She loved talking about song writing and the meanings behind her lyrics, but she always got a little nervous when it was Harry’s songs she was talking about, knowing that he felt the opposite about sharing the stories behind the songs. He had told her countless times that while he wasn’t comfortable having those conversations he would never stop her from talking about it, but his silence on the topic always made his fans desperate for information which put a lot of pressure on her when she spoke about his work.

“Alright,” Nick said, “you ready for the last one?”

“Is it what I think it is?

“It is. Not too late to back out if you don’t want me to ask. We can just talk about the BBC recording or about the tour some more.”

“No, it’s ok,” she replied. “It’s about time I say something. Just nervous about the response.”

Nick nodded in understanding and turned back to the microphone as the song reached its end. Aurora felt her heartrate rising and her hand started to shake as anxiety clawed at her throat.

“Now we’ve been addressing fan theories and answering the internet’s burning questions here this morning and we can’t really have a segment like this without touching on the biggest theory surrounding Harry that dates back to the very early days of his career and I know neither of you have ever addressed this publicly but when we were chatting last night about you filling in for him I asked if it was ok to bring this up and you both agreed I could ask…”

Aurora shifted in her seat hesitantly, her palm growing sweaty as she anticipated the next question. She’d avoided commenting on it publicly ever since she and Harry announced their relationship, which was not to say she didn’t have strong opinions about the topic. She just knew that it would cause a stir amongst the fans.

“For years now, fans have speculated that Harry and his bandmate, Louis Tomlinson, are in a secret relationship and that they’re management forced them to hide it so as not to alienate their fan base. In the past both yourself and Louis’ girlfriends have been accused of acting as beards for the lads, but you’ve never addressed the overwhelming online presence of what the fans call Larry Stylinson.”

“I really don’t like talking about it, Grimmers,” Aurora began. “But I guess by staying silent a lot of fans have taken that as an answer, so what I will say is that I’m not angry at those fans. I am sad though. I’m sad that they think it’s ok to harass myself or Eleanor or Danielle or anyone else in Harry and Louis’ lives. I’m sad that they saw two boys who saw each other as family and loved each other and that those fans couldn’t accept that two men could show affection for each other without it being romantic love. What worries me are all the boys out there who see the way these girls have acted over the years and how much that has reinforced the toxic masculinity in their lives. The fear of being seen as gay stops so many boys and men from telling their friends that they love them. My best friend Ella and I act the exact same way as Lou and H did in the early days of the band but because we’re women no one has ever accused us of being lesbians. The harassment has affected all of us and I know that the fans are acting out of a place of love. They love the boys and they want them to be happy, but it’s honestly just gone too far, and it needs to stop. The Directioners are such wonderful people who are so inclusive and loving and I think they need to remember that and remember that we see the things that they say online. I guess if there was one thing I would say to those fans if they’re listening it would be that I know you love Harry and Lou, but by attacking myself and the other women in their lives you are hurting them and I’m certain that that is not what you want, so instead I ask you to channel that love into supporting them and lifting them up.”

“Thank you love. I know you don’t like talking about, but I must say I completely agree with you. Now we’re going to go to one more song and then when we come back, we’ll wrap this up and let you get on with your day. How about you introduce this next track, Rori?”

“Thanks, Grimmy,” Rori said. “From his incredible new album which dropped less than 2 weeks ago, here’s Niall Horan and myself with Seeing Blind.”

“You handled that well,” Nick told her once the mics were muted. “Kept your cool and explained yourself clearly.”

“Thanks,” Rori replied with a small smile. “Think I might stay offline for the next few days to avoid the worst of it.”

“Probably a good idea love,” Nick agreed. “Ready to finish this off?”

“Let’s do it.”

When the song ended the pair chatted for a few minutes about the rest of the tour before they reached the end of their timeslot. “Well thank you for joining me this morning for a bit of a cheeky gossip session Rors,” Nick finally said. “For those of you listening at home that are missing Harry this morning, tune in to BBC on Thursday night for Harry Styles at the BBC, an hour long show with live performances and interviews with yours truly.”

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

#skyfire fic #Husband Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #dad!tony #ptsd #domestic fluff #iron dad #step dad steve rogers #aurora stark #harry styles #tony stark

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fashionfoodforthesoul · 4 years

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Using Self-Quarantine to Practice Self-Care

With COVID-19 slowing down our way of life, it is important to use this time of isolation to do some soul searching. While this pandemic is tragically affecting our global citizens, it makes room for long moments of self-reflection. You are most-likely going to be spending a good deal of time alone, so you should get to know yourself a bit better. Here are a few ways to fill the silence:

1. Read a book. It may seem obvious, silly, or even boring, but it is a great use of time. If you are a student like myself, then it is important to keep yourself educated and sharp. Read books that intrigue you and push your thinking. This is a perfect time to read a book that you aren’t forced to read. A few on my book list are:

It’s Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini

Educated by Tara Westover

Just Kids by Patti Smith

If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin

History is all You Left Me by Adam Silvera

Happy reading!

2. Go on a walk. Staying in the house all day helps no one. Make sure you take at least 1 10-minute walk a day. If you have a dog, take them outside a little more than usual. Breathe the fresh air. It makes a world of a difference. It is also a great way to clear your head.

3. Listen to a Podcast. Part of living in a pandemic means staying informed. Spotify Podcasts such as “The Daily” or “The Journal” allow you to get valuable facts, as well as stay up to date, on the world around you. “BBC One Minute” gives you a 1-minute recap on the news if you are not up for a long segment. Some other podcasts that aren’t so serious that I love on Spotify are “Modern Love” if you are into short stories, “My Favorite Murder” if you enjoy true crime, “Life Kit” if you want a few lessons in adulting, and “Call Her Daddy” if you want something a bit more risqué (wink wink).

4. Arts and Crafts! Buy a coloring book, some cool pens, and have at it! Coloring or drawing can be a great stress reliever. Put on some tunes and let the beautiful colors take you away. You could even try something new like knitting, crochet, or embroidery. The sky is the limit!

5. One word: music. One of my resolutions for 2020 was to ditch pop music- and I’m never going back. Find some cool new artists that aren’t on the radio. I promise you’ll fall in love with them. Additionally, make some new playlists, or manage the old one that you have. Some new artists that I’ve just discovered are BROCKHAMPTON, SG Lewis, Sinead Harnett, Raveena, and Emotional Oranges.

6. CLEAN. YOUR. SPACE. Clean the space that you will be living in because you will most likely be spending more time than usual there. Declutter and disinfect the area that you will be sleeping, living, and working in. Nothing will drive you crazier than a messy space.

7. Give yourself a spa day. paint your nails, do a face mask, exfoliate, do a hair mask, take a hot bath. Take this time to pamper yourself. You deserve to destress in this stressful time. Make yourself a priority.

8. Keep up with you mental and physical wellness. Go to sleep at the same time each night and wake up at the same time each morning. Plan your day the night before. Though gyms may not be open, keep your fitness a top priority. Work out three times a week minimum. Do yoga in your home, do no-equipment workouts, take a run. Do anything that will get your heart rate up. Please eat well. Nothing will make you feel worse than crappy food. Eat a balanced diet each day- maybe oatmeal and some protein for breakfast, a sandwich for lunch, and any other whole food for dinner. Be sure to eat your fruits and veggies throughout the day. And, of course, treat yourself! Keep a chocolate stash for “emergencies”. Get dressed each day even if you are not going anywhere. Nothing feels more bleh than staying in pajamas all day. STAY. HYDRATED. Make sure you drink a liter of water each day. Give yourself daily affirmations. We will all get through this. I know this period of isolation, as well as the pandemic in general, could trigger many people. To my beautiful humans dealing mental illness, take it day by day. This too shall pass.

9. Keep up with your target language, or maybe try a new one. I’m pretty far along with my Spanish studies, but I definitely have some brushing up to do. Use this time to keep up with your proficiency. Or maybe you could try a new language. This is the perfect way to keep your mind sharp and just as active as your body. Buena Suerte! (That’s so embarrassing if that is wrong lol)

10. Try poetry. I know it isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I’ve been loving my exploration of this art form. “Button Poetry” on Youtube is great for beginners like myself. I enjoy hearing it and reading it, rather than writing. But I’m sure one day I will have the courage to write my own. Helium by Rudy Francisco and Pillow Thoughts by Courtney Peppernell are two poetry books I’ve been loving.

I’m wishing all of my followers and beyond a happy and healthy 2020. This is only temporary, everyone! There is no need for panic. Breathe. We’ve got this!

#coronavirus #corona virus #2020 #covid_19 #self care #self quarantine #social distancing #self reflection

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adolanables · 4 years

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Flame - Part 13

Masterlist

“You ordered pasta?” You screamed, probably sounding a bit crazy over a simple bowl of fettucini.

“I did - thought you’d be hungry.” The smile on your face was enough to hold him over for weeks, he hadn’t seen you this happy in days and it felt amazing.

Letting your duffel bag fall onto the ground and jumping towards the food, you gripped the fork and shoved a big bite of pasta into your mouth. Grayson wanted to tell you he loved you then, but he didn’t; he let you shovel carbs into your face, taking a second to gather himself before joining you.

After the two of you finished your meal, you joined Grayson at the top of the bed, letting him settle on a mind-numbing basketball game to watch. Grayson didn’t really care about sports, but he knew he could turn on a game without actually needing to pay attention to it.

Maybe twenty minutes into pretending to be interested in the basketball game, Grayson turned to you, his head propped up by his arm. Taking a second to look at him before speaking, you almost let out a sigh - his hair was falling messily down onto his forehead, glasses no longer on his face, but resting on the bedside table. The golden of his eyes send shivers down your spine and you couldn’t understand how Grayson had been passed up by countless women for his entire life.

Perhaps it was the fact that he was always being compared to his twin brother; who you truly didn’t think even had a shot if you were actually comparing them. Grayson was kind and funny, incredibly smart, had all the looks Ethan did, and an even better body now that Ethan had started drinking every weekend.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He laughed nervously, poking his index finger into your side as you repositioned yourself to face him.

“Like what?” A small smile crept onto your lips as he gripped your waist, sliding his hand down to the small of your back to pull you into his chest.

Rolling his eyes for a second before opening his mouth, “Like I’m a fat plate of fettucini.”

Letting a small giggle roll off your tongue, you nodded, sliding your leg in between his to get as close to him as possible. Truthfully, you weren’t sure what was still considered off limits. He was acting like everything was back to normal, but you didn’t want to push him if he wasn’t ready. “Well, maybe you just look that yummy..”

“Oh, do I?” Amusement laced his words as the hand on the small of your back slipped up under your sweatshirt, his warm fingers rubbing soothing circles on your skin. He watched you slowly as you nodded, bottom lip tucked between your teeth and a small hint of red in your cheeks. The glint in your eye and the way your palms pressed flat against his chest gave him all the assurance he needed to lean in and capture your mouth with his.

A small mewl left your mouth as you melted into him, the taste and feel of his luscious lips went straight to your core. God - you had missed him. You never really liked making out before Grayson - it always felt like the guy was in a rush or bored and wasn’t really into it. Grayson was a different story. Every movement of his lips or tongue was purposeful, knowing exactly what to do to you. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling your face to his; trapping you so you couldn’t leave him. The leg you had wedged between his own felt the slow rise and tightness of his sweatpants, turning you on even more.

After the blacked out sex incident, you and Grayson hadn’t done more than makeout. Both of you were admittedly a little nervous to consummate the relationship sober, and you were being eaten alive by guilt. Now that all of that was out of the way, you felt a new freedom wash over you as Grayson gently tangled his tongue with yours. His hands held you in place as you gently pulled away from you, leaning down to pepper kisses along your neck, stopping to nip and suck at your most sensitive spots. Spots he had picked up on quite easily when the two of you first started to explore each other. The bundle of nerves just below your ear was his favorite - the way you sucked in a sharp breath and curled into him, wanting more. Your chest would start to rise the longer he kissed there, wetness pooling in your panties as soft pants left your lips.

Grayson loved kissing you. He loved everything about it; he could kiss you for days and never stop. Truthfully, he was nearly shitting himself the first time the two of you madeout sober. Sure, he had kissed one or two girls before you, but his experience with an actual makeout was slim, but you seemed to crave him the same way he craved you. Your reactions boosted his confidence and he quickly learned what you needed, and he loved to give it to you. He also loved when you took the reigns and gave him what he needed. You used your hands to push Grayson’s chest away from yours, stopping his attack at your neck. In the past, he may have been worried that he had done something wrong, but he knew that wasn’t the case.

Rolling so you were straddling him, you leaned down to start your own attack on Grayson’s neck. He preferred soft bites instead of the wet kisses you loved so much. The dull sting of your teeth followed by a hot lick of your tongue drove him crazy. When you focused right on his adam’s apple, licking small circles over the wound you just created, he couldn’t help but let out a deep groan. “Kiss me, Log - please.” He croaked, hands traveling from resting on your ass to your hair to pull your head up to his. His request didn’t go unanswered, a small smile on your swollen red lips made him smirk before you leaned down and got wrapped up in him once again.

What felt like hours of making out later, Grayson pulled away from you, the biggest shit-eating grin on his face that you’d ever seen. Before you could get a word out, he spoke - “Have you soaked through your leggings?”

With wide eyes and the realization that you most definitely had - your underwear nearly felt like you had peed in them - you felt your face turn red. Grayson’s hard member had been pressed up against your crotch for the last hour as the two of you locked mouths - who could blame you? “Okay, well, that giant wet spot on your pants is pretty bad too.” With a huff, you sat back a bit so Grayson could see where his own precum had stained his grey sweats.

“Can we fix it?” He breathed, hands resting on your waist, eyebrows raised as he waited for your response.

“You want to?” Biting your lip to hide back your smile, you tilted your head to the side. Grayson simply nodded before leaning up to pull his sweatshirt over his head. You’d seen his abs plenty of times, but right now they looked like a big ass steak to you. “You’re so hot, Gray…”

“I’M hot?” He scoffed, sitting up so his chest was pressed up against yours and his bent knees were supporting your back. “Logan Walker, you are the most stunning woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

Letting out a soft sigh, you leaned forward to bury your face in his neck once again, small kisses making contact with his warm skin. After a few moments, he helped you slip your sweatshirt off, black sports bra coming into view. For a moment, you wished you had worn something more sexy, but the way Grayson was looking at you told you it didn’t matter at all. Before he could think, you were leaning away from him and pulling the fabric over your head - closing your eyes for a moment to calm yourself. You had been naked in front of countless men and yet knowing this was Grayson’s first time seeing you this way had you insanely nervous.

You weren’t sure why the two of you had been so hesitant to show each other your bodies, but you had. Grayson was absolutely in awe of you as you sat before him, natural breasts and dark, beautiful nipples on full display before him. He wished so badly he could remember the first time he actually saw them, but this was just as magical. Leaning down to press soft kisses to the rise of your chest, he held you to him with one hand on your back, the other crept up nervously to cup your breast in his hand. A low growl from the back of his throat made you throw your head back in pleasure, he took that as a sign to finally take one of your nipples into his mouth. His tongue lapped in circles around the soft bud, lips sucking ever so slightly to send shockwaves straight through you. He continued on the other nipple for what felt like forever and you had to pull him away, face flushed red, leggings feeling uncomfortably tight. “I can’t take it anymore, I need you.” You whimpered, hands cupping his face close to yours, you could almost feel his heart ready to jump out of his chest.

“Yes - yeah - yes.” He fumbled over his words as you lifted yourself off of him and tugged on the elastic waistband of his pants with raised eyebrows. “Go ahead- yeah.” He gulped as your cold fingers connected with the skin right beneath his belly button that was peppered with hair. Lifting his hips to help you pull his sweatpants and boxers down, he shut his eyes, not wanting to watch you see all of him for the first time. He mentally cursed himself for not shaving, but he really wasn’t sure what you would be into, so he just left it.

When his length slapped up against his stomach, you couldn’t help but smile - god you were so lucky. He was big, but not too big, and thick - if you had to craft a dick it would be this one. Hell, if you had to craft a man, it would be this one.

“Stop staring at it!” He groaned, slapping his hands over his eyes out of embarrassment which made you chuckle.

“I’m admiring, not staring.” With a roll of your eyes, you positioned yourself between his legs and leaned down, elbows resting gently on the tops of his thighs. If you thought Grayson was a nervous person before this exact moment, you were wrong because the way he was staring at you was full of confidence. You could tell he was about to say something, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment, so you bent over and licked a thick stripe straight up his long cock.

“Jesus christ.” He groaned, throwing his head back into the pillows and reaching up to tangle his hands in your hair. The noises that were coming out of him as you gripped him in one hand and continued to tease him slowly were going straight to your core. Honestly, you were so grateful neither of you remembered your first time, because you would be heartbroken to know you missed out on these sounds. Connecting your eyes to his, you finally slipped the tip of his bright red penis into your mouth, causing his jaw to drop open and his eyes to flutter shut briefly before re-opening to keep watching you. As you took more of him into your mouth, your hand softly pumped him up and down, the other resting just beneath his balls, cupping him softly. “Fuck….” He breathed, chest rising and falling as you picked up your pace, “Feels so good…” His eyes were squeezed shut as you slurped him, making his hips involuntarily buck up into your mouth. Raising an eyebrow at him, you took all of him down your throat, gagging softly as his tip hit the back of your throat - the action brought out a low whine from his throat. “I’m gonna bust if you keep doing that.”

“I dare you.” Hearing your voice purr up at him was nearly enough to make him cum, but he took a deep breath to steady himself. As you took him again, sloppily licking him up and down, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Fuck… shit…. Ugh.” He groaned, throwing his head back into the pillow as he thrusted up into you, warm cum shooting out of him into your throat. The way his hands gripped the sheets, the red fluster of his chest and face, his trembling thighs - you wanted to suck Grayson off every single day for the rest of your life. When you pulled off of him, swallowing his warm nut, he was still coming down from his high - face pressed into the white pillowcase.

You took the opportunity to finally kiss those sweet, sweet abs - the feeling of your warm lips on his body again made him wince - still feeling sensitive. “You… are something….” He breathed, finally lifting his head up to look at you - swollen lips and watery eyes, he wanted to return the favor. “Sit on my face.”

“Huh?” You sat up quickly, a bit taken aback by his request. Honestly, you’d never done that before - so Grayson suggesting something foreign to you was actually pretty hot. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously - come here.” He smirked softly, waiting for you to kick your leggings and panties off - as you did so he let out a shaky breath. Cheeks blushing slightly as he looked you up and down. “I swear to god, I’m dreaming.”

“You aren’t.” You rolled your eyes, body flushing with warmth as Grayson’s strong hands finally grasped your fully naked body and pulled you to him. Your core was hovering just over his chest as he looked up at you, trying his damnedest to not just fucking lose it over how close your pussy was to him.

“I have no idea what I’m doing here… but I’ve seen it…” He muttered, shrugging casually as he ran his hands up and down your sides, eyes faltering from your eyes momentarily to stare at your perky breasts. “If I’m not doing a good job, just tell me please - I don’t want you to lie because I’m inexperienced.”

“Yessir.” You nodded at him, saluting playfully as he lifted you slightly and pulled you up onto his face. Honestly, you were feeling pretty exposed - this was an extremely compromising position considering Grayson had never seen you before. You were about to say something, but his forearms suddenly wrapped around your thighs and you were being pulled down to his mouth, his tongue quickly lapping up into your folds. Both of you let out a small moan at the same time, Grayson at the way you tasted and you at the feeling.

Grayson had no idea what he was doing, but he’d seen enough videos to know at least a little bit. He had always thought a girl riding your face was so incredibly hot, but thinking about YOU on his face made his dick rock hard. When he had finally gotten you right above him, he felt his mouth watering before he finally just dug in. He pressed kisses to your clit - which he found pretty easily - thank god. His warm tongue made circles around the sensitive bud, eliciting a high pitched squeal from you - god, he loved that. “Kisses, or tongue.” He muttered, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh as he waited for your response.

“Tongue.” You breathed, reaching down to lace your fingers through his dark brown hair. As he continued his conquest on your clit, you felt your body start to flush - jesus if this kid was going to make you come his first time eating pussy, you couldn’t imagine what he would do after some months of experience. “Put a finger in, Gray.” You moaned, arching your back as he paused momentarily to reach up and trace his index finger over your absolutely drenched opening.

“This good?” He questioned as he began to slip his middle finger inside of you, his hand was already facing down, so the curve of his finger was pressing right up against that fleshy bundle of nerves inside you. He took your moan and squeezing of his hair as a yes, because he continued to flick his tongue around softly and pump his finger in and out of you. He couldn’t get enough of looking up at you as he ate you out, the soft curve of your breasts and the pleasure in your scrunched up face - he could do this for hours.

“Yes, yes - don’t stop.” You whined wiggling your hips against him as he continued, he picked up the pace with his finger as you rode his tongue. Suddenly, you felt that pressure inside of you snap, a cry leaving your lips as you came undone on his face. Thighs trembling around his face as you squeezed them shut, body shaking, breaths falling from your lips - you were high on Grayson Dolan. He let you stay there for a few minutes as you tried to gather yourself, his hands rubbed soft circles on your lower back, eyes trained on your face.

When you finally rolled off of him, you couldn’t help but smile at him lovingly. “I don’t deserve you.” The words rolled off your tongue so easily, but he tilted his head in confusion, brows knitted together tightly.

“Yes, you do - I don’t deserve you.” He shook his head, rolling onto his side to pull you back into his chest. “I will never understand how I got so lucky.” His voice was barely a whisper as he leaned down to kiss you again, the taste of you still on his lips. “I love you more than life itself, Logan.” He spoke softly against your lips, his heart pounding through his chest as he waited for you. You knew you had told him you loved him when you were drunk, but you weren’t sure if he would ever feel the same way.

“I love you, Grayson Dolan.” You smiled against his lips, pressing another kiss to him before pulling away. “Now, make love to me.”

Grayson went to sit up, but you shook your head and pulled him back down onto his side. You rolled over so your ass was pressed right up against his - hard again - cock. He went to ask what you were doing, but you gripped his hand, positioning it under your knee as you moved up a bit so he was able to enter you. Gripping him in your hand you leaned back so your face was right next to his - you always thought this was the most intimate position. You were face to face, right next to each other, able to be held and to hold.

He understood quickly, hiking your leg up and bucking his hips up as you positioned him to thrust inside of you. As he slowly pushed inside, he leaned forward and kissed you, catching each other’s moans as he bottomed out. Grayson’s chest was rising and falling quickly as he rested his forehead against yours, trying his best to steady himself. You were relishing in the feeling of being fully filled up by him, you loved how easily you could look at him and kiss him.

“Move, baby.” You encouraged him, hand reaching back to rest softly on his hip. He nodded quickly, hand gripping your leg tightly as he started to thrust up into you. His mouth fell open as you rotated your hips to meet his. “You feel so good, Gray.” You whined, pressing a kiss to the side of his open mouth.

“Shit, Logan.” He huffed, his hand that rested beneath you reaching up to pinch at your erect nipples. “I want to fuck you all night.” He groaned, his neck tensing as he picked up his pace.

“Challenge accepted.” You giggled, slipping your hips off of him and shoving him onto his back. Soon enough you were straddling him again, his red tip pressing up against your folds. As you lowered yourself onto him he let out a hiss and threw his head back again.

“I’m not gonna last like this.” He choked out as you bounced up and down on him, leaning down to nip at his neck - something you knew would make his blood boil. “Fuck… umph. Fuck.” His words were strained as you continued to ride him, but he took a brief pause in your movements to grab your hips and move you off of him. “I wanna try one more.” He breathed.

“Yessir.” The small word at once seemed so innocent, but now it sounded so dirty as you sat on your knees fully naked in front of him. He crawled to the end of the bed and stood up, motioning for you to come towards him and lie down. As you sat there with your legs spread, feet propped up on the edge of the mattress, you weren’t exactly sure what he wanted.

“Tell me if it hurts.” He spoke firmly, gripping both of your legs beneath your knees and pressing them up to your chest before quickly bottoming out.

“Shit!” You moaned, head falling back as you felt him in your stomach. He continued to relentlessly pound in and out of you - something you weren’t quite sure he was capable of, but the look of determination on his face as he watched you writhe beneath him was unbearably hot. “Gray - Gray” you whined, trying to press on his stomach as the pressure building was almost too much. “Ah!” You squealed, face scrunching up as he slowed his movements.

“Gonna cum, baby.” He muttered, body curling over yours to press a kiss to your forehead as he emptied himself inside of you with a string of curse words. “Such a pretty pussy.” He muttered as he pulled out, watching his load drip out of you - he’d only seen this in porn, but he was sure you had a million dollar kitty down there. “So fucking good, Log.”

“Mmm,” You smiled lazily, reaching a hand down to circle your clit as you felt the warmth seep out of you.

Taglist:// @dolan-bliss @graysavant @justordinaryjen @rainethan

#ethan dolan #grayson dolan #the dolan twins #dolan twin #dolan twin fanfic #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan smut #dolan twin smut #smile #adolanables #nerd!grayson #flame

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mikauzoran · 4 years

Text

LuXY/Lukadrien/Lukadrienette: Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Three

@luxyweek

Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Three: Collaboration

Luka couldn’t believe it.

While he still didn’t necessarily like XY’s music, he had to admit that it was definitely more listenable nowadays. No longer was it trite, banal, and annoying. It was still repetitive, but the repetition was more like that in the works of Philip Glass or John Adams where it meant something and gradually evolved and moved, unfurling like a flower on a time-lapse film. It was catchy, modulating to explore different key areas before finding tonal resolution.

It still wasn’t anything Luka would choose to listen to over, say, Pink Floyd, but he did find himself humming snatches of XY’s tunes periodically after listening to them.

The thing that had him the most incredulous was that XY had actually looked into some of the composers that Luka mentioned in various interviews and took inspiration from their work. It wasn’t the plagiarism of old but the acceptable practice of quotations taken from other works just like well-known composers had been doing in the genre for hundreds of years now.

And XY had taken the themes, the snippets, and modified them himself. He sequenced motifs up and down, inverting them and truncating them. Clearly, XY had been paying attention that one time in an interview when Luka had gone on a fifteen-minute tangent about the theme of the first movement of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony and how Beethoven had taken the handful of notes in his theme and reconfigured them over and over to create astounding variety, lyricism, and emotional impact.

XY was nowhere near Beethoven’s level, but he had still managed to take quotations from classical music as well as original themes he had seemingly come up with himself and employ a similar process to what Beethoven had done so that the music changed and grew out of itself like Pegasus springing from the head of Medusa.

Luka thought that maybe a collab would be possible after all. Now, he just had to call XY and make the arrangements.

…But how did you call the guy who’d gotten you akumatized a decade ago whom you’d also made out with the previous week? The closest thing he’d ever had to a normal interaction with XY was the conversation at the party, but that hadn’t exactly been quote-unquote “normal”.

Did he just dial the number XY had given him and say, “hey, this is Luka Couffaine calling about the collaboration you wanted to do”? Pretend like the saliva swap and the snuggling and the talking about Luka’s messed up relationship with Adrien and Marinette and their son hadn’t happened?

Did he just play it cool? Keep it professional?

Did XY expect something from Luka? Was the kiss purely an experiment, or was XY thinking that some kind of relationship was going to happen between them? XY had said that he’d wanted Luka. What did that mean? Was it purely sexual?

Why had Luka let himself get into this complicated situation?

He’d been trying to be supportive of a guy attempting to figure out his sexuality in his late twenties…and XY was hot when he wasn’t saying stupid or insulting things. He had dumb hair, but he was attractive, and he’d been kind of nice with all the things he’d said about admiring Luka’s music. And Luka had been feeling down, and the alcohol hadn’t helped, and Luka had just wanted someone to kiss him senseless and help him forget that he wasn’t always happy with life.

Luka could feel himself on the verge of doing something stupid like inviting XY over to supposedly talk about their collaboration but really to see if they’d end up making out again. At the very least, maybe XY would say some more nice things like how he liked Luka’s chord progressions or how Luka had gorgeous eyes.

Luka sighed as he slumped onto the couch and stared at his phone as if he hoped it would give him answers.

Maybe he should ask Siri.

“Siri, what am I doing with my life?” Luka queried, fully expecting the robotic voice to come back with online articles for the boardgame Life or some kind of chicken recipe.

“I’m not sure I understand,” Siri replied in a tone that could pass as apologetic if you squinted.

“That makes two of us,” Luka chuckled wryly. “Thanks anyway, Siri.”

He took a deep breath and dialed Marinette’s number.

“Luka!” she greeted brightly. “Hey. How’s it going? Hold on. Let me put you on speaker…. Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you,” he assured, a smile coming to his lips merely at the sound of her voice. “Hey, Chanson.”

“I was just getting Hugo ready for his bath,” she explained and then lowered her voice as she addressed her child. “Gogo, it’s Uncle Luka on the phone. Can you say, ‘Hi, Uncle Luka’?”

“Papa!” Hugo cried with joy, and Luka could practically see his son lifting his arms up for the phone, thinking they were FaceTiming and wanting to see the picture.

Luka could also practically see the way that Marinette was wincing at the epithet.

“No,” Marinette gently corrected, urging, “It’s ‘Uncle Luka’.”

“Papa!” the two-year-old shouted again.

“Hi, Gogo,” Luka greeted warmly, wishing that he could see his baby’s face. “You know, Marinette, I don’t mind that he calls me that.”

“I do,” she sighed, voice high and tight. “I wish Adrien hadn’t taught him that. What if he calls you that in public? People are going to think I’m a slut! They’ll think I cheated on Adrien, that our marriage is in trouble. I need people focusing on my talent, Luka, not my love life. If my brand is ever really going to take off, if I’m ever going to prove myself…if I’m ever going to get out of the shadow of my husband’s father’s brand and prove I’m not just riding on Adrien’s coattails…”

“Chanson,” Luka cooed. “Hey. Take a deep breath and relax, all right? You are so amazing, and the whole world is going to realize that someday,” he comforted. “You’ve just got to keep hanging in there, okay?”

“Maman?” Hugo called in concern, tugging at her pant leg.

Marinette took a deep breath and picked him up.

“Right. It’s okay. Maman is okay,” she shushed, bouncing her son and moving him from side to side. “It’s just stress. I’ve got a deadline coming up.”

Hugo frowned, trusting the anxiety that was coming off her in waves over her reassuring words. Even though he was young, Hugo was very attuned to people’s feelings.

“Thank you, Luka,” Marinette added belatedly. “Sorry. I’m kind of a mess. Adrien’s doing Hamlet, and he won’t be home until late, so I’m trying to cook dinner, get Hugo cleaned up, and work on this project, and it’s not happening.”

“It’s okay, Marinette. You don’t have to be a superhero all the time, you know.”

She let out an ironic laugh. “Luka, I’ve had to be a full-time superhero since I was fourteen. It gets kind of hard to turn that mentality off after a decade.”

“Point,” he conceded. “But you know what you’ve got at your disposal?”

“What?” she hummed.

“A team,” he reminded. “Why don’t I come over and give Hugo his bath and make dinner while you get some work done?”

“Oh, Luka,” Marinette breathed, sounding genuinely touched. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. But thank you. You’re too good to me.”

“Chanson, I am sitting around my apartment feeling like a wreck. Please let me come over and be useful. I want to take care of you.”

Marinette was easily sold on the arrangement, and it was a nice evening.

Marinette got her work done while Luka got to spend quality time with his son and the woman he loved. They had a peaceful dinner together, and then Luka played with Hugo for a bit before putting him to bed.

Luka had intended to go home afterwards but ended up staying the night.

Adrien got home a little after midnight, traces of stage makeup still on his skin as he slipped into bed, snuggling up to Luka and wrapping himself around Luka from behind.

Luka returned to his flat after breakfast and immediately despaired at the silence and solitude of the place.

He thought about calling XY and asking him out to coffee.

He actually fished out the business card XY had given him and dialed the number, but the call went to voicemail.

Luka covered his disappointment with professionalism: “Hey, this is Luka Couffaine calling about a possible collaboration. If you could give me a call back, we’ll discuss details.”

He thought about going out to get a coffee at a café by himself just to get out of the house, but the idea no longer seemed appealing.

“Dude, you live on a boat? That’s, like, hella whack!” XY exclaimed, and Luka couldn’t discern whether that was a compliment or a slight.

“It’s technically my mother’s,” Luka explained. “I have an apartment over in the sixteenth arrondissement,”

—not far from Adrien and Marinette’s house—he omitted.

“but I grew up here and still come and go pretty much as I please. My sisters—my biological sister and her wife—my sisters still live here, though.”

XY nodded as he stepped down off of the gangplank and onto the deck, surveying his surroundings. “It’s kind of a dump.”

Luka cringed, reminding himself that even though XY was hot and had improved personality-wise over the years, he was still completely tactless and oblivious. It wasn’t his fault he’d been brought up poorly and didn’t know that he wasn’t supposed to say things like that.

“My mother’s name is Anarka. We believe in chaos, leaving junk lying around, and affogatos,” Luka informed, motioning for XY to follow him down below deck.

XY frowned. “Like those green fruit things?”

Luka was surprised that XY knew that an avocado was a fruit. Perhaps it was just a lucky guess. “Affogatos are an Italian dessert where you pour espresso over gelato…and sometimes add amaretto. My mom’s a big fan. She dated this Italian guy once and totally got hooked on them, so now they’re kind of a family tradition. Like hiding chocolates in each other’s socks for Valentine’s Day.”

XY continued to stare at Luka, completely nonplussed. “Your family is weird.”

Luka shrugged, leading XY into the main cabin and motioning for him to have a seat on the wraparound couch. “All families are weird. The truly weird ones are the ones that aren’t.”

XY looked like he was still trying to puzzle that one out when Luka asked, “May I get you something to drink?”

“Yeah, I want an avocado,” XY declared.

Luka didn’t bat an eye. “With or without alcohol?”

XY shifted on the couch, looking almost uncomfortable. “Without. I don’t want—I don’t think we should be drunk today,” he elaborated. “You know. Because we’re working and stuff.”

Luka nodded, mentally noting that he needed to be sober the next time he kissed XY.

He added an additional note concerning the fact that he was thinking about a next time.

“Two affogatos without alcohol coming right up.”

As he started the espresso maker and moved to get out the gelato and glasses, Luka inquired, “…Did you get the chance to listen to those pieces I texted you about?”

XY (his left arm hooked around the back of the couch so that he could twist and watch Luka making the drinks) nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I did. You picked some really good songs for us to take as inspiration. I think we could get a really good blend of our styles going if we kind of pattern our mix on elements of those songs. Like the Tarantula one.”

It was really Saint-Saëns’s Tarantella, Opus Six, but “tarantella” literally meant “tarantula”, so Luka was willing to let it slide.

“I really dug the theme from Tarantula. If we take the theme and kind of rework it and speed it up, I think it would be a sick bassline. Like, kind of like…” XY paused, a guarded expression coming to his face, as if he were afraid of Luka judging him or shooting down his suggestion. “Have you ever heard DJ Jack’s remix of Pink Elephants on Parade?”

“I can’t say that I have,” Luka admitted, carefully pouring the espresso over the gelato. “Could you pull it up?”

“Yeah, sure,” XY agreed happily, getting out his laptop and hopping on YouTube for the track. “This part,” he indicated about fifty seconds into the song. “I was thinking a really driving, pounding bass would be good.”

Luka nodded, considering the idea as he brought over the affogatos and set them down on the makeshift coffee table. It wasn’t exactly his style, but that wasn’t the point of the collaboration.

“Yeah, that could be good,” he encouraged, taking a seat on the couch beside XY.

XY looked relieved as he pulled up his sound editing software. “I was actually messing around with the idea last night so I’d have something to show you.” He pressed play on a track labeled “hairy spider beats” and looked expectantly at Luka.

He let Luka listen for about twenty seconds before nervously asking, “What do you think?”

XY’s mix was still audibly related to Saint-Saëns’s theme, but it was much more “inspired by” than “plagiarism”. He’d taken the notes (sometimes turning them around on themselves or dropping them down a third, sometimes rearranging, sometimes splitting apart) and sped them up, giving them a driving, electronic pulse.

“That actually sounds pretty neat,” Luka replied sincerely. “I can tell you’ve really come a long way as far as music theory and composition, Xavier-Yves. Nice work.”

XY beamed at Luka’s praise, his heart swelling with pleasure and pride. “It was nothing,” he assured, playing it cool. “I mean, I am hella dope after all. Music theory has nothing on me. I kicked its butt.”

“Yeah,” Luka agreed with a chuckle. “I can see why people like your music nowadays. It’s still not really my favourite genre, but I can tell you’re onto something.”

XY hesitated before curiously inquiring, “…Why did you call about collaborating if you’re not really a fan of what I do?”

Luka shrugged, training his eyes on the laptop screen. “I don’t know. Listening to your music, I just kind of felt like there might be something there, so I decided to give it a chance and see what happened.”

XY nodded slowly, studying Luka’s expression in profile. “All right. Good answer.” He turned his attention back to the project at hand. “So. I was thinking, we could use this or something like it as the base and layer other stuff over it. Like…you know in that Corn on the Cob song you sent me—”

Danse Macabre. Saint-Saëns again, Opus Forty. It was one of Adrien’s favourites.

“—how in the beginning it’s really quiet as the clock strikes midnight, but then all hell breaks loose as the dead rise from their graves and start partying?”

“Yes?” Luka was intrigued to find out where this was going.

In Danse Macabre, about thirty seconds in, after everything up to that point had been pianissimo, the dynamic suddenly shifted to forte, and the loud, powerful notes really blew the listener away. Luka remembered that that part had been very striking the first time he’d heard the piece.

“I was thinking we could do something like that. Not the same notes,” he explained, “but the same effect. We could have the song pulsing along, but then, all the sudden, the bass drops, and we wait a beat, and then you come in really loud with—I don’t know—whatever you end up using if you want to go with your guitar or maybe the violin or, I mean, what don’t you play?”

Luka blushed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Well, there’s a difference between being able to make an instrument produce sound and actually being proficient. I can play simple melodies on a wide variety of instruments, but I really only consider myself able to play the guitar, violin, and piano.”

XY snorted and rolled his eyes. “Dude, you’re definitely selling yourself short, but whatever. If you can make an instrument produce sound or play a simple melody or whatever, I can record it and splice it up into a killer mix. No one’s going to know that you’re not ‘proficient’ by your own standards.”

Luka hummed thoughtfully. “Point. I’m used to creating music that has to be reproduced live, so I didn’t think—” He cut himself off abruptly as an idea occurred to him. He turned to look at XY with wide, hopeful eyes. “Do you think we could use a glass armonica?”

XY tipped his head to the side. “What’s that?”

“Go back to YouTube, please,” Luka requested, practically buzzing with excitement. He never got to use this instrument for anything, but it had such a cool sound.

He instructed XY in what to search for and what to click on, and not a minute later, XY was staring at the screen, watching the demonstration in amazement.

“Dude,” he breathed. “It sounds like the souls of the dead being all spooky up in our business. We have got to fit that in somehow. At the very least, it would add some neat harmonies.”

Twenty minutes of watching videos featuring glass armonicas later, they got back to their collaboration piece.

“You know, another thing I’d like to fit in if we can is a quotation of the Dies Irae,” XY remarked, completely knocking Luka for a loop.

“What?” he asked, thinking he’d misheard.

“The Dies Irae,” XY snorted. “You know what I’m talking about. You’ve talked about it in several interviews, and it’s quoted all over that Tatter Tots song you sent me the other day to prep for our collab.”

Totentanz. Franz Liszt, S. 126 (because Liszt didn’t use opus numbers).

“Sorry. Right,” Luka confirmed. “Sorry. I was just…”

…surprised that you, one, knew what the Dies Irae was called; two, pronounced it correctly; three, butchered Totentanz’s title; and four, actually listen to me when I talk.

“…astounded by what a good idea that is,” Luka recovered, realizing that his true thoughts were either rude or showing his hand too much about how much it meant to Luka that XY had paid that close attention to Luka’s interviews.

“You have a lot of good ideas, Xavier-Yves,” Luka added, watching a cute pink tint rise in XY’s cheeks.

“You bet I do.” XY puffed out his chest slightly. “I didn’t used to, but now I do. I have a lot of good ideas because I’m not an imbecile anymore.”

Luka felt his stomach twist slightly, recalling the way Bob Roth had talked to his son at the party the week before.

It reminded Luka of the way Adrien had internalized the erroneous beliefs that he was needy and whiny and difficult after years of hearing Gabriel perpetuate those lies. Adrien only believed it because it was what Gabriel had taught Adrien about himself, either directly or by implication.

Luka could see how Bob Roth calling his son an imbecile for years on end might ingrain the belief into Xavier-Yves’s psyche too.

He took a deep breath, reached out, and rested a hand on XY’s forearm. “Hey.”

XY’s eyes went wide like sundials as his gaze locked with Luka’s.

“You were never an imbecile,” he informed gently yet firmly. “You were just in a situation where no one ever gave you the opportunity to show off what you could do, and that’s not your fault.”

XY gulped and then forced himself to look away before the urge to kiss Luka got any stronger. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right…. So…the Dies Irae…”

“Right,” Luka agreed, slowly retracting his hand. “The Dies Irae…”

Hours flew by as they worked on their project, and, before they knew it, their stomachs were growling.

“Would you want to go get dinner?” XY asked tentatively, trying to get a feel for where they stood with one another. “With me, I mean. My treat, since you supplied the snackage and refreshments today. I owe you for that avocado. That thing was good; I see why your family believes in them.”

“Right?” Luka chuckled, partially out of genuine amusement but also to buy a little time.

XY was definitely asking him out on a date. What was he supposed to say to that? He’d gone into this whole collab thing with the intention of keeping an open mind and seeing what became of it, but… What was he doing? He didn’t know. He legitimately didn’t know what he was doing with his life, so if XY just wanted random make-outs when convenient, maybe that was fine, but if XY were serious, if he had any kind of feelings for Luka… Luka didn’t want to lead XY on. After all, he wasn’t emotionally available for an actual relationship and all that involved, so…

He took a steadying breath, getting his apology together in his head before he opened his mouth and replied, “Sure. I would be down for hitting up a bistro or something, if you’re paying.”

XY’s face lit up just enough for Luka to realize that XY was expecting something to come of this—whatever it was. Friendship?—acquaintanceship between them.

Luka needed to be careful.

…But he’d really enjoyed kissing XY after the party. It had been nice to know that Luka had been the only person on XY’s mind. He hadn’t had to share XY with anyone like he did when he was with Marinette and Adrien.

But if this really was XY’s first experience with romance with someone he was legitimately interested in, Luka needed to keep his head on straight. He was an absolute mess, and he knew it, and if he didn’t keep his wits about him, he was going to ruin the concept of love for XY.

That was kind of a daunting responsibility.

Dinner was actually fairly normal, like any other dinner he’d had between friends…sort of. At least, it didn’t feel like a date. Well, besides the part where XY had insisted on driving and opening the car door for Luka. While the gesture had seemed romantic at first, Luka was starting to suspect that it was really because XY didn’t want anyone touching the car besides him.

It was a hideously purple 1982 DeLorean with gullwing doors, and it was XY’s baby.

Apparently, XY was a car person. Luka learned this when he happened to make a comment about the car over dinner and was then treated to a fifteen-minute-long gushing rant about automobiles.

It was a learning experience, and Luka, who didn’t really care so much about cars, didn’t have much to contribute.

Thankfully, after fifteen minutes, XY realized that Luka hadn’t said anything in a while and thought to ask about Luka’s hobbies. Luka talked about Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky, and he could tell he was going a little over XY’s head, but XY asked questions and seemed like he genuinely wanted Luka to keep talking, so Luka figured it was okay.

It wasn’t really a “normal” dinner between friends, but it didn’t feel like a date either.

They returned to the Liberty afterwards so that XY could pick up his belongings, and as he was packing up his laptop, he hesitantly remarked, “So…the other night…”

Luka tensed. “…Yeah?”

XY licked his lips, tentatively looking up to study Luka’s expression. “The kiss.”

Luka squirmed slightly, fingers itching for a guitar to strum to calm himself. “Yeah?”

“You remember that?” XY inquired nervously.

Luka winced. “I wasn’t that drunk.”

XY shrugged. “I mean…but you were drunk, so—”

“—I remember,” Luka cut him off before the misunderstanding could go on any longer. “I remember, and I wasn’t so drunk that I didn’t know what I was doing. I voluntarily kissed you.”

Whether or not that had been a good idea, that still remained to be seen, but Luka felt he’d been sober enough to consent to a kiss, and he didn’t want XY worrying about that issue.

“Oh,” XY replied thoughtfully, looking back down to his laptop, strapping it into his satchel. “Okay. So…you knew what you were doing, and you…you wanted to kiss me?”

“Yes,” Luka answered with conviction, leaving no room for doubt.

XY breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Because I didn’t think of it at the time, but I was thinking about it later, and my dad always tells me not to do anything with girls when they’re drunk because that leads to lawsuits, but I started thinking that I shouldn’t have kissed you when you were drunk either, even though you’re not a girl.”

“Normally, that’s a good practice to follow,’ Luka confirmed. “But I wasn’t drunk. Not that drunk…. But, yeah. Don’t kiss drunk people in the future,” he sighed, beginning to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“So…” XY slung his satchel over his shoulder and studied Luka careful. “If you hadn’t been drunk, would you still have kissed me?”

Luka blinked. He didn’t know.

If he hadn’t been drunk and tired and feeling kind of down…maybe he would have gone down to the lobby and asked at the front desk for his own room. Maybe he would have stayed but turned down XY’s proposed make-out and snuggle session.

Luka couldn’t honestly say.

He grimaced and answered helplessly, “Maybe?”

XY nodded, taking a deep breath and letting that response settle in. “All right.”

“Sorry,” Luka mumbled, shame burning in his cheeks. He could tell that he was royally screwing this up, and he felt awful.

He was a bad person for dragging XY into his complicated relationship with Adrien and Marinette.

“It’s all right,” XY sighed, sounding bummed.

Luka scrubbed at his face with a hand. “No. It’s not. I’m sorry. I was kind of a wreck the other night. I’m kind of a wreck in general. I’m sorry.”

“Nah,” XY assured, waving away Luka’s apologies. “I mean, I was kind of kidding myself. You’re…You’re you after all.”

Luka dropped his hand from his face and frowned, unsure if he should be getting defensive. “What does that mean?”

XY shrugged. “Like, you’re all smart and stuff. We don’t have a lot in common, not even our music, so… It was kind of dumb to think you’d be interested in me. But it’s cool, so whatever.”

XY turned to go, but Luka caught him by the arm.

“Xavier-Yves, it’s not like that,” Luka rushed to explain, not knowing quite what to say, only that he needed to say something. “It’s not… I’m not… I mean, I’m not that smart.”

XY snorted, rolling his eyes. “Dude. At dinner you told me how you’d learned Russian so that you could read thousand-paged books. For fun.”

“Well, you taught yourself how to build cars,” Luka volleyed, grasping at fog.

“Yeah, but I’m not smart,” XY scoffed, pulling his arm away from Luka. “I can’t talk about literature and art and stuff like you.”

“Xavier-Yves, there are many different types of intelligence,” Luka huffed in frustration. “Just because you’re not book-smart, that doesn’t mean you’re dumb, and who’s to say that my type of intelligence is any better or worse than yours? You have your own strengths, so don’t discount them just because they’re not the same as mine. If we were on a drive and broke down in the middle of nowhere, your type of intelligence would be a hell of a lot more useful than mine.”

XY stared at Luka for a beat, taking all of this in. Slowly, he began to nod. “All right. Okay. Soooo…?”

He looked at Luka expectantly.

Luka looked down at his feet but then forced himself to look back up and maintain eye contact. “So…I think you’re attractive and kind of interesting, and I’d like to get to know you better.”

XY’s cheeks started to glow a soft, rosy tint. “O-Oh yeah?”

Luka nodded. “Yeah. I’d like to hang out again.”

XY gulped. “So…could that maybe translate to you eventually kissing me sober?”

A wave of guilt washed over Luka.

He had ruined this guy’s first kiss.

Luka took a breath and stepped in, pressing his lips lightly to XY’s. He lingered for a moment but pulled back before XY could get over his surprise and take things any further.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t sober the first time,” he whispered. “Maybe this could eventually become something, but I’m an emotional mess right now, so I don’t want to lead you on or turn this into some kind of friends with benefits thing if you’re looking for a serious relationship. I’m sorry, but I just want to be honest with you.”

XY nodded neutrally as he stepped back. “Yeah…. Okay. I get you. I…all right.” He sighed, running a hand through his spiky locks. “Honestly, I’m just kind of glad to know where I stand with you. I can work with being attractive and interesting.”

His ego was quickly bouncing back as he readjusted his satchel on his shoulder and moved toward the door, turning back to shoot finger guns at Luka. “I’m still planning on making you fall in love with me. See you later!”

Luka stared at XY’s retreating back until he disappeared abovedeck.

Juleka found her brother ten minutes later, still standing there and contemplating his life choices.

#LuXY #luxyweek2k20 #Lukadrien #Lukadrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #ML #Luka Couffaine/XY Roth #Luka Couffaine #Xavier-Yves Roth #XY #Lukanette #Mikau's Writings #Welcome to La-La Land

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mmmmalo · 5 years

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This is a (meandering, non-exhaustive) overview of Homestuck’s use of

by which I do not mean examples of psychological realism in a character’s words and deeds, but rather the various means by which characters’ psyches are expressed outside of themselves. I wish to elaborate on how thoughts, feelings, and desires may find expression in the environment, in the medium of the story itself, and in the form of other characters.

That’s perhaps a little vague, so here’s a ready example of what I mean: brainghost!Dirk. He talks with Jake, but since he is a construct of Jake’s mind, Jake is essentially talking to himself. Brainghost!Dirk is an alienated medium for voicing Jake’s own thoughts, irretrievably distorted through its intermingling with what Jake thinks/wishes Dirk would say (not unlike a puppet). I am claiming that this mode of characterization is not a unique to Jake; the blurring of inner and outer voices is omnipresent throughout the story.

Or, rephrased: what I hope to show is that a great deal of Homestuck is haunted with brain-ghosts, of one kind or other.

An early example of this kind of storytelling in science fiction would be the film Forbidden Planet (1956). The film contains a pair of conflicts which eventually reveal themselves to be one: the scientist Morbius wants some space explorers to get off his planet, and an immense monster (pictured above) appears during the night to attack the explorers. Morbius, it turns out, has been experimenting with a machine capable of turning thought into reality. So when Morbius sleeps, his dream of driving off the trespassers materializes in the form of beast that forcefully enacts the wish.

The beast is declared a “monster from the id”, the “id” being a concept borrowed from Freudian psychology, indicating the part of the mind responsible for the unfiltered generation of impulses, of urges. In the film, this passing mention of psychoanalysis precedes the revelation of Morbius’s link to the beast.

Homestuck hints towards its own mixing of thought and reality with a device similar to Morbius’s dream machine: Sburb.

A snapshot of Dave’s Sburb client (1519) shows that the final subprograms launched during the games installation make reference to terminology associated with Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud. The terms suggest that Sburb interacts with the ideas in the kids’ subconscious minds (archetypes) and brings symbolic representations of these ideas into conscious reality (manifests the ideas). The game alters the means by which reality is constructed. As with Forbidden Planet, a major result of this is id monsters.

When John slips on a staircase, he flips out (left, 560). And when he nearly launches himself into the abyss with the Pogo Hammer, he has to take a nap before he has calmed down enough to continue (center, 637). Immediately following both moments of vertigo, massive ogres appear. The eventual fight with the ogres begins after John looks over the edge of the platform above his house, into the abyss (right, 662).

All of this suggests that Sburb is reacting to John’s emotional state (fear) to produce in-game content. The game functions as a waking dream.

It should also be noted that Sburb provokes the reactions it elicits. Karkat once mentioned a nagging feeling that the game was mocking him by giving him a planet covered in the candy red blood he had spent a lifetime attempting to hide (2301). Karkat’s paranoia seems to be correct here, and moreover applicable to the cast in general -- John’s house was likely placed atop an immense spire /in order to/ bring John’s dread of falling into sharp relief. The suspicion can be substantiated with a few related motifs.

The story provides two likely origins for John’s fear of heights: his own fall from the slime pogo as a child (2626) and the death of Nanna, which John believed resulted from her falling from a ladder and being crushed by a book (52). What’s more, Sburb’s invocation of the Fall of Man (Adam and Eve being cast from the Garden of Eden) via biting into an apple hints that there is an allegorical significance to John’s more literal fear of heights.

We can apply these patterns to other characters in an attempt to learn more about them. LOLAR being covered in ocean suggests that Rose is afraid of water, with the likely cause of Rose finding Jaspers dead and washed up on a riverbank (presumed drowned). Dave speaks openly about how his sword fights with Bro left him anxious of metal sounds (7749), meaning the grinding gears of LOHAC were a personalized hell for Dave. Jade’s first imp manifests in response to the sight of a yellow aurora (2998), inviting the reader to investigate why that image invokes a fear response.

But we won’t get to into all of that, not for now at least. Let’s take a step back.

For my reading of the imps as manifestations I’ve been leaning heavily on a piece of film theory devoted to the effects of sequential images. The sequence above constitutes two observations. One, that by this arrangement the viewer will infer the old man sees and reacts to the middle figure. Two, that the viewer’s impression of the old man will change based on the content of the central image, even if his expression is the same. Is he smiling at Nepeta or warm embrace Marvus’s armpit? The answer may influence your interpretation of the little smile.

The neat thing about montage is that the interrupting frame need not bear any obvious relation to what precedes or follows in order to be subject to a causal reading. Moments that occur sequentially can be read as triggering one another, even if what follows any particular moment appears to be a break rather than a continuation.

Example: There’s a moment where Aranea walks into Jake’s dream, and brainghost!Dirk immediately starts razzing Jake about his attraction to the alien girl and threatening to give him a boner. The scene is interrupted by Jack committing a series of gratuitous murders. We then cut back to Jake, and bg!Dirk is now teasing him about his dirty thoughts.

DIRK: You have got to be kidding. Did you seriously just think something THAT dirty? DIRK: You must be doing this on purpose to spite me now. I mean, just wow dude. That was x-rated as fuck.

JAKE: (No no stop. See youre talking about it and now i cant help it!) JAKE: (You are psyching me into having dirty thoughts get fucking lost you interloping brain douche!!!)

DIRK: Don't worry, I'm gone. It's like a goddamn peep show in here and I feel like a sleazy piece of shit watching this from a dark corner of your mind. DIRK: You have a graphic imagination, English. I'm kind of impressed.

JAKE: (Shut up theyre just thoughts its not even like im trying to have them THEY DONT MEAN ANYTHING!)

The ostensible joke is that bg!Dirk is exaggerating or outright fabricating his account of Jake’s thoughts in order to hassle him. But by way of montage, one can infer that we /have/ seen Jake’s dirty thoughts, in the form of Jack’s display of overwhelming bloodlust. Violence is superimposed over the sexually explicit.

Whether the scene literally takes place in Jake’s mind is secondary (though such a reading would explain why Jake’s brain ghost is even aware of Jack) -- the use of montage allows Jack’s actions to function as a /metaphor/ for Jake’s thought.

Another example of Jack functioning as a murderous/libidinous avatar would be the death of Mom and Dad. At their little tea party, Dad spills some wine on Mom’s clothes and declares that she must disrobe immediately (so that Dad might launder the garment). Mom calls the aromas wafting from his pipe sensuous. The two clasp hands and declare that all they need is eachother. Then they die! The joke is that while Bec Noir is ostensibly an interruption to date night, he also functions as its culmination, with murder acting as substitute for the sex act.

The link between violence and sexuality is perhaps a hard sell, but I hope to convince you that the reading holds merit. Let me emphasize that the very act of Mom and Dad holding hands was itself sexually loaded.

I owe to HS liveblogger elfstuck the insight that John’s linear 3 card sylladex is a reflection of his short attention span. Consider how John’s role as a game character means he is thrown all around his room, back and forth, as the player figures out what to make of the situation. If you ignore the fourth wall, you’re left with an extremely distracted person, who attention flows easily from one object to another. Accepting the object-in, object-out nature of John’s sylladex and the resulting shenanigans as a metaphor for this, it would follow that the sylladex in general can offer an abstract representation of thought.

In passing, I can mention how the enormity of Jake’s sylladex (it cannot even fit on the page, and contains an object that exceed most players’ size limits) would imply that despite evidence to the contrary, the boy likely has a big brain (and perhaps its being offscreen suggests Jakes own unawareness of much of his own thought). Dirk’s comment about avoiding items that are difficult to shoehorn into his mnemonic schema (4535) could be read as a difficulty maintaining information that doesn’t fit into his personal mental models. The sylladex becomes a metaphor for the mind that requires interpretation.

Under this mode of thought, the moments when Jade’s pictionary modus fails to correctly interpret her drawing become akin to a mental slip-of-the-tongue. For the Tanglebuddies to be misread as enmeshed hands implies an association, in Jade’s mind, of horny Squiddles and clasped hands. John affirms the association much later by miming Tanglebuddies as he attempts to grapple with the question of whether Jade and Davesprite are sexually compatible (5294):

JOHN: how do things even work if you marry a sprite?

JADE: what do you mean

JOHN: i mean... JOHN: ok, he has a ghost butt, for one thing.

JADE: uh JADE: so

JOHN: a GHOST BUTT, jade!

JADE: SO WHAT IF HE HAS A GHOST BUTT!!!!!

JOHN: i'm just saying...

JADE: WHATEVER YOURE JUST SAYING, JUST STOP SAYING IT! JADE: and whatever youre trying to gesture with your hands there, stop doing that too!

It should also be noted that before launching into her “daring dream”, waxing poetic on the miraculous union of the human and the animal with her hands clasped in wonder, Jade successfully captchalogued the Tanglebuddies (796). And more to the point, Jade’s pose in reproduced during discussions of cherub (5961) and leprechaun (6007) reproduction. Hand-holding becomes representative of an (oft-sexualized) union, underlining the euphemistic nature of Mom and Dad’s post-contact demise.

The next example of using montage to communicate thought requires a little more buildup.

There’s a gag in Rose’s introduction where the reader tells Rose to play with her writing journals, and scoots the journals under the bed and retorts that she would only do that if no one were watching (220). At first glance, the moment scans as a minor meta joke in a story filled with meta jokes -- but the trick is that Rose does not /know/ herself to be a video game character, her every movement controlled and observed. Rather, she /believes/ this to be true -- the joke about being watched establishes that Rose is paranoid, as will become apparent in the hostility she assigns to Mom’s every action.

The command prompt and narration are themselves brain ghosts of a sort: the voice deployed in them is always linked to the present point-of-view character. The insults that precede character introductions ( “Zoosmell Pooplord”, etc) become marks of anxiety, an intrusive proclamation of what the kids at times think of themselves (and/or what they think others think of them). “Nice time management skills, sweetheart!” becomes a bit of self-deprecation Rose as she procrastinates, which Rose experiences as having been voiced by some objective observer who judges her deficiencies.

A blurred line divides characters from the voice at the back of their head, belonging to the (presumed) omniscient, omnipotent author-god. This is why avatar!Hussie is dressed as Calliope when he is killed by Lord English. Both Calliope and Hussie are a voice in Caliborn’s head, and thus both present apparent obstacles to an unmediated self.

The left panel (3219) foreshadows the right (3358). Gamzee is not being declared the objectively most important character in Homestuck. Rather, Gamzee is declaring himself /to have been declared/ the most important character in the story. The line establishes that Gamzee believes himself to be in a story (with an author!) and that this author has declared him paramount. Furthermore, “fondly regarding creation” is an modus operandi of Problem Sleuth’s Godhead Pickle Inspector. Applying that turn of phrase to Gamzee’s actions further establishes that Gamzee believes himself to /be/ the god-author declaring his own importance. So it should come as no surprise that 137 pages later, Gamzee outright proclaims himself to be the god(s) he worships.

Going back to montage, it becomes interesting that this snapshot of Gamzee’s megalomania is inter-cut with the creation of Jadesprite -- the moment that dead!dream!Jade merges with Bec, forming a unity with a deity not unlike the unity Gamzee claims with his mirthful messiahs. The interweaving would suggest that Jade and/or Jadesprite experienced analogous thoughts of megalomania upon the moment of ascension.

This would be a good point to mention that not only imps and ogres, but trolls also function as manifestations for the people they impose upon. Karkat is not only an interruption here, but also a continuation. He points out that Jade’s self-loathing, that she cannot safely distance herself from the qualities of Jadesprite she finds distasteful. This is precisely why Karkat ends the conversation by telling Jade to turn off the fourth wall (which divides the self!), as well as the reason he imagines Jade making out with herself: Karkat is on every front presenting the prospect of union with oneself.

The notion of trolls as manifestations first emerges clearly when Rose and Dave receive their packages from John. As they finish reading John’s letter, each is suddenly contacted by a troll and greeted with the command “Answer.” Critically, by word alone it is ambiguous as to whether the command refers to answering the troll or the letter. And as it turns out, these answer occur simultaneously: Rose and Dave’s responses to the letters are embedded in the subsequent conversations.

Rose receives a letter poking fun at her pretensions, claiming that her attempts to hide her affections for people are futile. In response we get Kanaya, who imperiously proclaims her disdain for Rose, only to suddenly change tact and explicitly seek Rose’s friendship, an entreaty which the oft paranoid Rose accepts. Dave receives a letter imploring him to let go of his insecurities and express himself. In response we get Tavros, the very picture of insecurity, who is fixated on the idea of making Dave shit himself (as part of an ‘emotional constipation’ motif that follows Dave). And Dave complies, in a sense, by way of the quasi-ironic gay treatise that compels Tavros to block him. Each conversation addresses the issues laid out in John’s letter.

Examples can be found throughout the comic. Equius remarking that he talks to Gamzee every day (2220) establishes that Gamzee is regularly haunted by the thoughts of domination that Equius voices -- both in the literal and metaphorical sense. Erisolsprite referring to Dirk as a rock 2oliid piiece of a22 and then calling himself 2ociiopathiic for even thinking something so callous (5516) expresses a conflict already present in Jake’s own mind, echoing the frustration with his own dirty thoughts expressed by the argument with brainghost!Dirk. Feferi’s pronounced enthusiasm for the imminent apocalypse should cause you to question Kanaya’s seemingly neutral resignation towards the end of the world, since Feferi manifests for Kanaya (2328). And so on.

The person being trolled is always being confronted with thoughts or feelings or memories already present within themself. Alien contact always doubles as a brain ghost haunting.

Another example, with some buildup: Karkat invokes the phrase “PERFORATE MY BONE BULGE WITH A CULLING FORK” to express his contempt for Vriska, and on subsequent pages we see Feferi pointing her culling fork at a cuttlefish (2181), as if to suggest that the creature symbolizes the bone bulge. Fast forward to Kanaya, who has just gotten through a conversation with Vriska and finds herself haunted by Eridan, who keeps going on about his romantic desperations and insisting (correctly) that Kanaya’s crush on Vriska is itself romantic. That his notification erupts from an image of cuttlefish held at Kanaya’s waist adds to the air of yearning, as though her own bulge is rumbling. The scene is capped off with a double entendre: “its hard and nobody understands” is playfully poignant jab at an inability to understand one’s own desires (among other things).

And Homestuck devotes a lot of attention to desire.

It’s long been acknowledged by the fandom at large that Kanaya’s attraction to Light players functions as a joke on the proverbial moth-to-the-flame. As reconciliation with the fire destroys the moth, there’s a morbid tinge to the attraction, as though it doubles as a death wish. And the wish is granted -- when Kanaya dies in Homestuck, she dies to light, either from Eridan’s wand or the laser blasts unleashed by HIC. Even the death of Kanaya’s lusus pertains to light -- the matriorb ripped from her innards is shaped like a miniature sun, as if to establish some loose link between the notion of motherhood and the incandescence Kanaya eventually achieves.

This can be generalized into a principle wherein lusii (and the circumstances of their deaths!) can functions as analogies for the desire of the wards.

Vriska, for example, desires execution. When offering Terezi a flimsy apology for crippling Tavros and proxy-murdering Aradia, Vriska offers to slam her head against her desk in penitence. This moment should be read against Vriska’s addiction to breaking 8 balls, and leaving the broken shards lying around as though she’s inviting the “bad luck” of stepping on them. It /is/ an invitation. Vriska seeks love via violent retribution against herself. This is why in the right panel, Vriska’s blood-spattered head is juxtaposed with a broken 8 ball: the blood came from Spidermom’s execution (which characterizes Vriska’s desire), and motif of 8R8K H34DS connects the moment to Vriska’s idea of apology.

Like Kanaya, Vriska (to a degree) seems to structure her love life along these lines. In the words of @azdoine:

like ppl are actually out here writing Vriska as the top as if her entire Act 5 character arc isn’t about bratting out until Terezi has no choice but to punish her

“oh noo, I, the thief of light, stole all of your luck, and made the coin land on the scratched side! now you have to kill me! but I’m probably going to get away with everything, because you don’t have the guts to stab me with that sword of yours!!!!!!!! if only there was somebody, like you, who could prove me wrong!”

EXTREMELY SUBTLE THERE, VRISKA

Vriska’s approach to wooing Tavros also revolves around baiting execution:

The scene: Tavros leads a horde of imps and ogres into a mystery cave, the top of which is adorned with kissing lizards and an alchemical symbol. Tavros is putting a puzzle of a frog together, but Vriska has already pieced together the puzzle: making a frog universe is, in part, a cipher for personal reproduction. The Ultimate Alchemy is making a baby! And as Vriska says, “real gamers cut to the chase. They power through all the nonsense and go for the gold.” So she brings Tavros to LOMAT and makes the moves on him.

Tavros is equated to a treasure chest by the repeated use of framing and Vriska is GOING FOR THE GOLD, like a WINNER. Tavros later reaches into the same chest for his lance before heading off to attempt to kill Vriska -- affirming that the treasure Vriska seeks here is Tavros’s “lance”.

This setup was suggested by the conversation accompanying the kissing salamanders: Vriska gives Tavros a map with a big red X, saying he should take his legion of imps through the gate and go defeat his denizen. The gate actually leads to Vriska, but she isn’t lying. She is positioning herself to be Tavros’s final boss. The imps are manifestations of Tavros’s pent up rage (much of which was generated by Vriska’s harassment), and Vriska wants Tavros to take that anger out on her. Hence the later panel which uses Vriska’s boots to place a big red X directly over her groin, making explicit the implicit goal of Tavros’s trip to the windmill X-gate.

This pursuit of love through violent comeuppance may have something to do with Vriska’s bitter disappointment that ghost!Aradia did not seem to hate her.

An intermission/introduction of sorts, as we bridge from one discussion of desire to another: did you know that Michael Bay’s Armageddon (1998) structures itself in part around Freud’s Oedipus complex? I say this in total sincerity.

The plot: a meteor the size of Texas bears down upon the Earth, threatening armageddon. Luckily, a crew of rough-and-tumble oil drillers are ready to fly into space and split that mother in two. Oh HELL yeah.

Except, wait, the movie’s actually about family drama: Bruce Willis finds Ben Affleck sleeping with his daughter Liv Tyler; Willis proceeds to chase Affleck around the oil rig with a shotgun, bang bang bang. Not Allowed. The Protective-Father-Hates-Your-Boyfriend dynamic is presented as an Oedipal triad of sorts: although Tyler is not literally Affleck’s mother, she performs the mom-function of “forbidden object of desire” -- and Willis opening fire is equivalent to the castration said to await trespassers onto maternal soil.

The above reading is buttressed by jokes: Armageddon appears to function within an implicit dream machine, such that the characters’ thoughts and fears can become manifest in their environment. So when it comes to pass that whenever Affleck climbs into a hole (heehee), a pipe breaks (hoohoo), and suddenly everything goes boom, I read that as Affleck reliving the consequences of boning Tyler, packaged in such a way that the Freudian fear of castration is more explicit. (The relevance of Oedipus to the proceedings adds some humor to Steve Buscemi declaring the entire disastrous situation a “Greek tragedy”)

At any rate, after some shenanigans, Willis comes to accept Affleck’s claim to his daughter and confers the deed, as it were. Willis gives the young couple his blessing and they get married. Hooray!

Except, wait, the movie’s actually about the perpetuation of the oil industry: the dream machine was declared at the beginning of the movie when a petty street-side argument triggered the first barrage of meteors. The meteor the size of Texas (aka Dotty) is triggered by conflicts that haunt the central cast -- namely Willis, who enters the film hitting golf balls at a Green Peace boat. On a metaphorical level, Dotty is a golf ball the size of Texas, striking directly at the Earth instead its self-declared representatives. There’s a certain irony here: the film lampshades that the men who are destroying the world have been tasked with saving it.

The family drama folds into the environmentalist angle: Liv Tyler is a symbol of the earth (which gets drilled). This is the joke when Affleck is bouncing animal crackers around on her belly like she’s host to the Savannah: she kind of is! It’s no coincidence that Willis confers ownership of the oil rig at the same moment that he offers his daughter’s hand in marriage: the motifs are being discussed simultaneously.

But enough of all of that: back to Homestuck.

Armageddon’s simultaneous casting of Liv Tyler into the roles of earth and mother offers a glimpse at the interpretive possibilities made available by Hussie’s statement that Homestuck is in a way a synonym for Earthbound (an RPG in which “homesickness” is a status ailment which can be cured by calling your mom). Stuckness or boundness can be deployed to communicate a sense of longing for “home”.

A good chunk of Homestuck is built upon feelings of nostalgia, taken to mean a sort of intense separation anxiety with the past. John speaks about this when he watches Con Air with Jade – John wants the movie to feel like it did when he watched it with his Dad long ago, but the feeling from when he was a kid is gone. This upsets him. Moreover, John’s freakout starts at the moment Cyrus puts a gun to the bunny’s head (5286): Con Air itself is partly about Nic Cage trying to return to the life he lost when he went to jail, and ‘putting the bunny back in the box’ is a metaphor for the attempt. Cyrus, in threatening the bunny, is highlighting his role as a force preventing things from going back to how they were. Thus, if we are to believe that John is responding to the movie thematically, Cyrus confronts John with his own inability to go back to a happier past – his inability to go home -- and this recognition is met with anger.

In making the leap to the psychoanalytic motifs, it helps to recall the part where baby!Dirk responds to being born by cracking open his ectotube and crawling back inside. Dirk, who aspires towards his “ultimate self”, illustrates here that he envisions his ascension as a return to the ‘essence’ of Dirk from which he (and all other iterations of himself) arose, as represented by the ectoslime. Baby!Dirk gestures at unity with his ectoslime/essence by crawling back into the place from which he was born, which I’m basically claiming is a “return to the womb” on a symbolic level, or at least that this is a useful parallel to draw. (A related motif to think about: Dirk decapitates himself by sticking his head inside a box, which as per Con Air symbolizes the place you wish to return to)

[Hella Jeff sez: “i took (my pants) off because i was banging your mom for a minute there..... AND NOW YOU ARE BANGING HER”]

Castration becomes unavoidable as you try to relate all of this to Dave, whose occasional references to banging hot moms are part of an ongoing reference to the Oedipus Complex. Critically, the complex is not /just/ about wanting to bone your mom, but also fear that your dad will chop your junk off if you do. The breaking of Dave’s sword on the rooftop is a realization of this fear (yes, we’re doing the “swords are phallic” thing). But Dave has no mom that he knows of, so what gives?

The answer is in the way Bro inexplicably breaks the record emblem on Dave’s t-shirt, as though he has introduced a fissure into Dave’s very identity. Life with Bro has made it very difficult for Dave to be honest with himself, which is to say, Dave pictures Bro’s abuse as having divided him from an ideal “true self”, which can feel emotions without all the anxious ironic detachment. I mentioned before that seeking unity with that from which you came is a “return to the womb”. This is the sense in which the Oedipal mom attraction becomes relevant: the return to the past is sexualized. The ‘home’ Dave wishes to return to is /himself/, and in this sense Dave is his own hot mom (which is related to how often Dave compliments his own looks, as well as the above gif suggesting Dave’s boner – he is literally/metaphorically “attracted” to himself).

(Incidentally: this model of desire, in which a broken subject attempt to become whole again by seeking out its lost half, is basically the concept of the soulmate, as laid out by Plato. Cherub reproduction turns the metaphysical pursuit of one’s lost half into a plot-level objective)

John’s entry item (apple) was linked to fear embodied in a childhood trauma (the Fall), and the same can be said of Dave. Hatching from the shell that contained your primordial goop (Dirk) is analogous to being violently separated from yourself (Dave), which is why Dave’s entry item (an egg) hatching coincided with Bro slicing the meteor in half: the abuse that divided Dave from himself, his “castration” by Bro, is simultaneously the “birth” that separated Dave from his “mother” (which is also Dave).

The general idea is that birth = self-alienation = castration, insofar as all are depicted as modes of being separated from oneself.

The broad motif of ‘being separated from oneself’ can be very useful for identifying brain ghosts in unexpected places. Take for example, Roxy’s fenestrated planes: when they are introduced the narrative is quick to tell us that if someone were caught half in/out of one of the windows when the power cuts out, they would be sliced in half. By the rule of Chekhov’s gun, this introduction should mean we should eventually see someone get gorily bisected by the window, but alas we never do.

Instead, when Gcat warped the panel away, trapping Roxy between the windows, we were shown the image of a bisected horse puppet in Dirk’s apartment, This signals that Chekhov’s gun has indeed gone off. But rather than splitting a body, it split a soul: Meenah’s introduction follows the sequence because Roxy has generated a shadow of herself, a doppelganger. This is not without precedent: an earlier portion of this post was devoted to exploring the fourth wall as a mode of self-alienation. Roxy’s panel mishap can be considered part of that pattern.

If Meenah functions as an extension of Roxy, all of her actions can be read as bearing some relations to Roxy’s own latent thoughts and desires. Prior to the epilogues, for example, Meenah imploring John not to give her the ring seemed to be yet another Fuck You to the late Chekov: the issue never comes up again. But a psychic link between Meenah and Roxy would suggest that John broke his promise to Meenah by giving the ring to Roxy, and that whatever motivations compelled Meenah to make her request in the first place would also apply to Roxy.

Decapitation is yet another mode of self-alienation, and thus can be construed as a mode of birth. Hence the image of Lil Sebastian hatching from his shell of taxidermied man meat. That’s a motif unto itself, but what I wish to call attention to is the match-cut from John’s broke body to Jake’s broken tower. The juxtaposition collapses the images into metaphor, such that Jake’s loose dome in the woods becomes a decapitated head -- an appropriate addition to the pumpkin patch it rests in, given all the Headless Horseman jokes. We can look to Dirk for for another example of a headless horse-man of the house echoing the head: for a guy who idealizes decapitation to such a degree, it is striking that Sburb aims to provoke him by reattaching his beheaded apartment to its underlying units.

Houses act as metaphors for heads, then “Homestuck” could also interpreted as “head trapped” -- like the title emphasizes confinement within one’s own mind. Such a reading offers up Failure to Launch and Arrested Development (posters on John and Jane’s walls) as alternate synonyms for Homestuck, as each satirizes (or outright mocks) potential failure states in the process of inter-personal and mental development (ie “growing up”). Like Earthbound, both lean on a sense of homesickness in characterizing despondency, as though characters are haunted by the needs that defined their childhood -- or else find themselves needing that childhood itself.

But collapsing nostalgia into infantile regression is far from the only way to approach the house/heads equation. One might read the transformation and growth of houses with Sburb as metaphors for expanding the mind. One might infer that the choreography of events within houses can map out thoughts like dancing bees. One might take the metaphor as a foothold for interpreting the significance of the Sburb logo being at once a house and a window. \I have my own thoughts about Homestuck’s brain-ghost haunted house-minds, but for now, I only hope that this document has raised some interesting questions -- and ideally, that the interpretive approaches I’ve described might be useful in seeking answers.

#homestuck #homestuck meta #this is basically the contents of the stream #movies #john #rose #dave #jade #jake #dirk #roxy #gamzee #vriska #4th wall #psychoanalysis #house as head #plato

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littlemisssquiggles · 4 years

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I could be totally wrong, but Oscar mentioning the "hope Atlas was meant to inspire" to Ironwood could possibly be a callback back in Volume 3 when Ironwood mentions that seeing the fleet in the sky makes the citizens feel safe. Ironwood states that Oscar sounds like he was there, but this could be because Oscar can remember Ozpin's memories. The merging process can already be happening, but I dunno, there isn't enough build-up for me to recognize this. Correct me if I'm wrong though!

Hello anon-chan. Yesterday I made a postregarding that whole subject. Forme, I kind of saw that moment harkening back to V4 during the episode whereOzpin made Oscar describe Lionheart’s office and he was able to recount thedetails of it to a perfect tee in spite of never being there.

So it’s safe to note that this will be normal behaviour expected of Oscar. He’s meant to inherit ALL of Ozpin’s culminated memories; not justthe ones in relation to his combat style. Ozpin did once say back in V5 thatwith every rebirth, his soul is eventually paired with another and he---meaningOz---is changed, but the memories of him and all of the past Wizardsof Light still remain a part of the next Wizard in the cycle.

Last time it was Ozpin to go throughthis experience. Soon it will be Oscar’s turn.

Ironwood also gave a small foreshadow in V7CH7 that stated that at some point, no one would be able to tell the two soulsapart since they would’ve become so integrated. However, in the end, the soul you see before you is the man or boyyou knew them to be; as I interpreted it.

I walked away from this momentwondering if Oscar was lying to Ironwood about keeping one more ‘surprise’ fromhim. And the hunch I described was one in which Oscarhas already merged with Ozpin and the audience is left not knowing who exactlywe’ve been watching throughout this volume.

But not in the sense like, have we beenwatching Oscar or Oz but more along the lines of, have we been watching Oscaror a version of Oscar who has already merged with Oz?

My belief in this post is we, as anaudience, are supposed to walk away from this volume finally accepting Oscar as himself. His ownperson. Since that’s who the other characters in themain cast choose to see Oscar as moving forward. Not Ozpin or another versionof Oz. Just Oscar.

The show has made it very clear, fromeven as far back as V5 that Oscar ismeant to his own person.

And what I think this volume has done decently (I’d give it a solid B for nottoo bad-ish) is establishing how all of our main heroes---particularlythe people who were more affiliated with Ozpin before such as Ironwood---haveaccepted Oscar.

Not as another version of Oz but ashimself since that’s how it’s supposed to be, right? Moving forward, Oz ismeant to ultimately cease no more as he becomes a part of Oscar in the form ofthe memories of his previous lives that he leaves behind with Oscar.

But ultimately, Oscar is meant to be hisown being. He was never supposed to change into Ozpin or become another life for Ozma tolive. I always believed that he was meant to remain as who he is in the end butthe influence that Oz left on him from their time together was meant to becomea part of him too. It was always meant to be a passingof the torch. Not a possession.

This is why it bothers me so much whenfolks keep acquainting every moment of character development and focus forOscar to Ozpin. It honestly makes me wish that the Writers never introduced thewhole Oz and Oscar sharing a body thing since I feel like no matter what theydo with Oscar, there will always be those one of two folks who will neveraccept Oscar as his own character separate of Ozpin and as a Pinehead,I find that honestly depressing to see when I explore the FNDM.

Then again, to each, their own, Iguess. I can never speak for other people. All I can do is speak for myself.

All I can say is that from the get-go, thissquiggle meister has always seen Oscar and Oz for who they were. Two like-minded yet completely separate being forced to share Oscar’s body.

I’ve always seen Oscar as his owncharacter. Heck, much of my recent time spent in the FNDM had been advocating forthe show to treat him as such as opposed to ‘Ozpin’snew skin’ or ‘meat-suit’. As a proud Pinehead, you have no idea how much it angers me whenever I hear people refer to Oscar as a ‘meat puppet’.

For Pete’s sake, he’s his own character.

While the road to achieving this respecthas been clunky and admittedly not that well-executed (especially in V5 and V6),that’s not the fault of the character but the fault of the writing behind thecharacter.

However, I do have to give props whereit’s due.

I think the Writers have delivered alittle better for Oscar for V7. It’s better than what he got for V6 for sure. I’mespecially pleased that my favourite freckled farm boy turned little barnprince got to have his moments (more than one) in this recent episode.

That being said, going back to talkabout the scene with Ironwood, I couldn’t help but feel something off aboutOscar’s reaction to Ironwood telling him “nomore surprises”. To me, I stand by my earlier stancethat the BIGGEST surprise that the CRWBY Writers can give to me is if wediscovered later that Oscar has already merged with Ozpin and had been mergedfor some time since the two made their peace with one another since after theplane crash.

It would be interesting if Oz has beenwith Oscar since then---but in a way where Oscar can tell that he’s there butdoesn’t make the others fully aware of that like before. It’d be a pleasant surpriseto know that Oscar has been aware of Oz being ‘back’ since the heroes’ arrival with Atlas. Like it’s a scenario whereOz is back but not really since he’s there and Oscar is fully aware of hispresent. However doesn’t intervene on Oscar’s development.

He lets him stand on his own two feetand think on his own and doesn’t overstep his boundaries like he’s done in thepast. This gives Oscar a chance to grow on his own. But let’s say, knowing thatOz was there, Oscar has made attempts to reconcile with the ole soul. HoweverOz never answers Oscar. He just stays in the background, watching him and everynow and again, Oscar could ‘feel’ how he’s feeling.

It’d be interesting if since the startof this season, Oz has been present in Oscar’s head but Oscar has kind of been ‘protectingOz’. Like he knows he’s back but he knows of his apprehension and his feelingsof guilt. So rather than try to push Oz or force him to return when he ‘wasn’tready’, Oscar just does what he can while Oz is a silent spectator to his growth.

It’d be interesting if there comes a moment later where Oscar reveals that Oz has beenpresent with him the entire time mentally and he knows he’s there. He justnever said anything about it since he wanted remain respectful of Oz’s feelingssince he knows he’s still hurting. Imagine if there’s a moment where Oscar isforced to turn to Oz and ask him to fight with him---lend him his power so thetwo can fight together or something like that.

It’dbe really funny if by the end of this season, it is revealed that Oz has beenthere just chilling in Oscar’s mind and Oscar is, like I said, protective ofthe old soul. Like he’s contented with keeping Oz a secret from the group untilhe’s ready to make himself known again. Y’know what I mean? Or something likethat. I dunno.

One curious thing I wonder about the Merge is whether or not thelength it takes for the two souls to fuse is adamant on their relationship.

Like I’d imagine that it would probablytake much longer for the two souls to merge if they didn’t learn to live together. What would be interestingis if Henkle (Dadpin) was the lifetime that started the melding of the twominds. Like what if…in the past, Ozma would just either be a prisoner within theminds of the men he was paired with after Diggs or perhaps, similar to Diggs, Ozma would hijack the bodies of his descendants which led to periods of extremeconflict between the paired souls reaching as far as them fighting each otherfor control.

Since Jinn made sure to pinpoint Ozmalearning to live in harmony with the men he was paired up with, I’m thinkingthat it was from this point where the Merge became a thing.

I’ve always better liked the concept ofthe Merging of Minds being symbolic of the union between the two souls---the point in which theyfinally become one with the last Wizard becoming a part of the next Wizard as hetakes his place within the cycle.

I’d still like to think this is thecase. It’d honestly be funny if in the end, Oscar already merged with Oz andwhat would be even more interesting if certain characters who knew Oscar and Ozrespectfully pick up on something ‘different’ about Oscar.

Hence the example scenario I gave in mypost from yesterday where Ruby confronts Oscar about Oz, leading to himconfessing that Oz has been gone for some time. This in turn leads to Rubyquestioning Oscar of his identity now. Whowas he now? Was he still himself ordid he become just another life for Oz or Ozma to live as he had feared?

Oscar’s response to Ruby’s inquiry is thena prompt asking her who shesaw him as. Ruby replies that she sees Oscar as she’salways seen him. As himself. Thus, that is who Oscar will be now and forever more until theend of his lifetime. Himself.

I know some folks didn’t really likethis idea from my previous post since it overlooks important plot details likeOzpin reconciling with the group onscreen and receiving a proper send off. Andto those folks I say, I wasn’t trying to imply that this will be the case forthe canon. What I was mostly getting at was that if the CRWBY were to hit uswith one more UNEXPECTEDSURPRISE before the end of the season,especially one regarding Oscar, this would be something that would genuinelysurprise me since I was more looking forward to seeing Oz and Oscar reconcileon-screen before reconciling with the group followed by the inevitable Mergelater down the road.

Then again, perhaps we and everyone else with this same thought might’ve been readingtoo much into that moment anon-chan. For all we know, that small moment could’ve been another foreshadow but not for the Merge but regarding something else like…Neo and Cinder suddenly showing up. That could’ve been just it alone.

This also makes me wonder something very curious in relation to that scene. While we know that Oscar told Ironwoodthe truth regarding what Jinn revealed to them about Salem. However, what I’m startingto wonder about now is whether ornot, Oscar actually told Ironwood about why Ozpin is really gone?

Did Oscar actually tell James about themusing the Relic on Ozpin and then turning their backs on him afterwards,resulting in his isolation? Did Oscar actually tell James the little part thatour heroes are responsible for Oz’s departure? That’s the one thing that wasn’tmade entirely clear. I mean it’s safe to assume that Oscar did tell James everythingin the spirit of fairness and “choosingthe truth over fear”.

But given how that scene played out, itmakes me wonder if Oscar told James everything except that one part about Oz?

Then again…I could just be overthinkingthis scene yet again. But anyways, that’s pretty much all the thoughts I haveto say about it anon-chan. For now, let’s just stick a pin in this scene and wait and seeif any of the remaining finale episodes say anything more to quell ourcuriosities regarding Oscar and Oz. That’s as much as I can say for now. Hopethis answers your question, fam.

~LittleMissSquiggles(2020)

#squiggles answers: rwby #oscar pine #professor ozpin #oscar and ozpin #rwby theories #rwby volume 7 theories #rwby volume 7 spoilers #Anon-ninja #squiggles answers

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houseswolo · 4 years

Text

Day 17 - 'Tis The Season To Be Thirsting

"Oh come all ye Forceful..."

The last of our Thirsties to be showcased:

Wilson

(Tumblr: @wilsonthinks66 | Twitter: Wilsonthinks66 | Ao3: Wilson66)

What got you into Star Wars?

When a certain Adam Driver revealed his beautiful face in The Force Awakens 😍 helloo handsome

What made you a Reylo? Lightbulb moment!

"You're not alone." "Neither are you."

I think I told Luke to piss off and let them kiss!

Why do you write / make art?

Because why not?! I write when I have that little niggling idea that just won't go away.

The Object of your Thirst…

Oh so many but if we're sticking to the Star Wars it's got to be the beautiful Adam Driver and my favourite ginger Domhnall Gleeson

Which Adam look do you like the best?

Unwrapped and bare chested 🤤😍

Which Adam avatar/ role do you like the best?

Flip Zimmerman, I think my stomach literally flipped (pun intended 😏) when Adam wheeled around on that chair 💦💦

Which part of Adam do you like the best?

A part? How can you only pick one part.

Favorite Star Wars Movie

Probably The Force Awakens, it was the film that made me watch the others in preparation, although Rogue one is a close second.

What do you like to write / draw / paint the most?

Don't judge me but I love writing angst obviously with a well earned happy ending. This is what I want to write as I've made a promise to myself to focus on what I enjoy reading/writing and not worry about others' opinions.

**Eyes the dark Evil Rey idea that won't leave me alone recently**

We'll get to you soon.

(HS: Dooo eeeet!)

Your TRoS Prediction

They all live happily ever after... Hux included 🤞❤️ no I know that may be too optimistic but I do hope we get Bendemption 😍

If you were an aesthetic... (colors, images, feels....)

Red and black are my favourite colour combination, although I adore autumn colours too🍁🧡

What's your ideal environment for writing / creating?

Silence 😂 seriously I am so easily distracted that I need solitary confinement 😅 which may be why I sometimes struggle to finish fics.

Are you a dom or sub?

Switch baby! 🤘 For the perfect partner I'll be whatever they need 😏

What's the most exotic/wierd place you've gotten intimate?

I've spent most of my life at yards, I'm not going to miss the opportunity to roll about the straw barn, now am I? 🙊

What's your kink?

Who doesn't love a good Dom but on the flip who doesn't love a well-behaved sub? 🤷 I'm easily pleased.

Use three words to describe yourself

Loyal, kind (I hope I come across as such) and argumentative sometimes because I can fall out with myself if I'm that way inclined 😂

Meaning behind your nick / ID name

Well it's my name and I wasn't feeling imaginative 😅

Are you a big spoon or little spoon?

I'm a don't touch me while a sleep spoon, solitary spoon 😘

Do you like it rough or soft?

See if you pick one, you lose out on the other. I'm too greedy for that.

Favorite fic you read

Unexpected by pontmercy44. The first star wars fandom fic I ever read that introduced me into this world, I guess.

Favorite fic you wrote or favorite art you made

Decades to Fall for Sunshineflying. A reyux fic (don't shoot the multishipper!) That I just loved writing and wish that every fic was that easy to create. 😍❤️

Favorite SW character besides Kylo and Rey

Oh well this is so hard for me umm 🤔 maybe that ginger General of First Order... I struggle to remember his name 😘 love me some Hux

______

Taz

(Tumblr: @tazwren | Twitter: WrenTaz | Ao3: TazWren & TrashcanWren)

What got you into Star Wars?

Literally, a lightsaber being stuck into my hand, at 7yrs, and being asked to be Vader to my cousin’s Luke Skywalker. I’d never heard of SW till that moment, and I fell headfirst into the Dark Side and in love with the galaxy far, far away! Its been the one franchise that as been a constant for me, the whole time growing up, and I’ve loved having something SW to look forward to every few years. SW and Reylo lifer! 😁😁😎😎

What made you a Reylo? Lightbulb moment!

“You are not alone.” The minute Kylo/Ben said those words, I was gone for Reylo. No true villain would give a flying fuck about his so-called adversary’s mental and emotional health. When their hands touched? I screeched in that theatre! And I may have yelled at Luke as well. Walked out and hunted for Kylo/Rey fanfics and the rest was history!

Why do you write / make art?

I do because the stories show up and make it impossible for me to do anything else but tell them. They buzz and breed and drown out all other sounds, like manic mosquitoes. They can be quite a nuisance that way, but... *throws up hands* ... I gots to do what they tell me to do! 😆

The Object of your Thirst…

Uh, do I even need to answer this? Adam Douglas Driver, Mr.Sensitive-on-a-stick, BDE Boss hisself 😎😏

Once I discovered him, all others ceased to exist for me. (Hugh, who? Chris, what?)

Which Adam look do you like the best?

I like Adam every which way, but my favorites are with facial scruff and slightly shaggy hair - Phillip Altman meets Ben Swolo. Oooh, anytime he is a sweater (or half out of one!) or with his shirtsleeves rolled up. So, um, yeah... 😁

Which Adam avatar/ role do you like the best?

Philip Altman is BAE - he always lightens my heart. And Ben Solo? He owns the frickin’ thing. So yeah, anyone who knows me, knows one ain’t enough 😏

Which part of Adam do you like the best?

His face - it’s so emotive and expressive! His eyes, those lips, that smile that launches a gazillion ships. His hands, his strong-ass arms. That glorious mane of hair. Have I mentioned them tiddies and the tree-trunk thighs?! Oh, and when he flexes his back, and...

Uh... let’s just say, everything Adam?

Favorite Star Wars Movie

The Last Jedi was the most beautifully written and shot movie in the entire franchise, with a depth of characterization and exploration of symbolism that was brilliant. This will always rate as the best for me. A close second, and one I will always love, is Empire Strikes Back. That was quintessential Star Wars and an amazingly good watch - snark, action, angst, love, betrayal, rescue, OMFG!

What do you like to write / draw / paint the most?

Until I started writing Reylo, I’d never been able to write fiction. I could never visualize the stories. And once I started, I haven’t been able to stop! I’ll write anything Reylo, I’ll try writing anything at least once (so, yeah, there may be dark fic as well one day!). My style defaults to either mildly angsty, or humour-laced fluff, or depraved smut. So, not sure what that says about me 😂

Your TRoS Prediction

Bendemption. Reylo. *mic drop*

If you were an aesthetic... (colors, images, feels....)

Blacks, Reds, Greys, slashes of bright turquoise and white and ochre. Blue and white-striped awnings shading an alfresco cafe, overlooking a green ocean. Bright, city lights, reds and yellows glinting off the black water of a bay. A busy airport, with the scents of perfume from Duty-Free as you zoom past it.

If you were a candy bar, what would your name be?

The Ever-lasting Gobstopper 😂

What's your ideal environment for writing / creating?

In a hotel room, on my own. In the back of cab, in the window-seat of an airplane. At my desk, looking out through the window as the breeze blows through the trees, and the Burn This playlist keeps going on repeat.

Are you a dom or sub?

Both? Both is good.

What's the most exotic/wierd place you've gotten intimate?

On the back of a bike, in the middle of the night, stopped at a traffic intersection.

What's your kink?

Size. Hands. Humour. Fidelity, and yet threesomes (go figure, I’m depraved). Mild Dom. Intelligence and thoughtfulness. Hair. Fuck it, Adam.

Use three words to describe yourself

Loyal, funny, organized-chaos (its a thing, trust me!)

Meaning behind your nick / ID name

I’ve always had Taz as a nickname, for the Warner Bros Tasmanian Devil (yes, I’ve been known to be exactly like that! 😂). Wren is a nod to Kylo Ren, and the fact that one of the earliest fanfics I read had Rey naming her son ‘Wren’ as a backhanded pointer to Kylo! So I’m, Taz, a Knight of Ren.

Are you a big spoon or little spoon?

I can be both, till I fall asleep. Then, pls leave me tf alone 😬😁

Do you like it rough or soft?

Both - why choose?!

Favorite fic you read

There are so very many in this amazing fandom! The one that I’ve loved from the beginning, though, is The Art of Broken Pieces - a beautifully written Bendemption fic.

Favorite fic you wrote or favorite art you made

God, this is hard! My recent favorites are Brooklyn Bridge Blues, Caught Between Beats, and A Taste For Two - I like that I’m able to explore a variety of stories and emotions through them. I’m most proud of Confidences To A Stranger because I was able to explore a storytelling medium that I hadn’t before.

Favorite SW character besides Kylo and Rey

Padme Amidala - she reminds me of my mother and grandmother, both of whom were strong women, who got shit done, while always taking care of their people. She was a queen in more than just name. Han Solo - I am weak for a scoundrel/villain/bad boy in a leather jacket, with a hardass, snarky exterior that hides a heart of gold. The reluctant hero.💙

____

Meet the other Thristies! Thirst Order Advent Calendar Day:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

cc: @tazwren @drnucleus @ashtyntaytertot @deadlikemoi @nite0wl29 @thereylowritingden @houseplaidam @housedadam @house-crylo @housereysistance @my-jedi-life @shestoolazytologin @koderenn @thoseindarkness @areylofan @lostinqueue-ffa @queenoferebor @cosmo-gonika @roguesinside @wilsonthinks66 @dangertaylor @lilia-ula @wandering-minds-found @looc-at-me @hopelesslyreylo @ferashacosplay @andabatae-writes @semperfidani @reylo-fade-to-grey @cb-lainey-schooled

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nellie-elizabeth · 4 years

Text

Supernatural: Last Call (15x07)

My heart is so full, y'all. Damn.

Cons:

Will you just let Eileen and Sam kiss, though? The slow-burn is charming to a point, but we're running out of episodes, here. Let's get this show on the road. They are so freakin' cute.

I love Christian Kane so much and I loved his performance. I do think it's a little silly to shoe-horn this awesome friend into Dean's past like this. I get it - this was someone he used to hunt with on occasion when he was younger. That part I'm fine with. But they talked like John was a father-figure in this guy's life, that he took them both out on hunts together, played them music, etc. That's not the kind of friend I thought Dean had in his life. It feels like too much of a retcon, in some ways, to introduce that idea now.

Also... this is a small thing, but it was hilarious to me how easy it was for Dean to break out of his bonds when Lee had him trapped. Come on, guys. The Winchesters are always getting in to trouble, and it's always dumb luck or mistakes from the bad guys that let them escape with their lives. Isn't Lee supposed to be a former hunter?

Sam got to lay around and be unconscious for a good chunk of this episode. I just want to point out that Cas has plot-convenient incompetence syndrome, and it annoys me sometimes. What I mean is that he comes in and messes things up when things need to get messed up. He's always well-meaning, but... Sam could have died. And Jack killed Mary because Cas made a mistake. Etc. etc. I'm not saying Dean was right during the now famous breakup scene. I'm just saying, Cas' level of competence and bad-assery shifts wildly depending on what the plot needs him to be doing. Sometimes it gets on my nerves.

I want to say it's bad-ass that Dean says "God bless Texas" as he pulls a gun out from under the bar. But honestly... can we not with that? Please?

Pros:

This episode makes me so very incredibly happy, though. Let's start with the Cas, Sam, and Eileen plot.

First of all, even though I wanted Sam and Eileen to kiss, even without that I'm still squealing with how cute and precious their relationship is. They nurse margarita hangovers together, Sam is picking up more sign language, they're doing research together, Eileen totally wants to hit that, and Sam is cute and nervous about it. I'm... so happy? What I think I loved most about their dynamic together is that it shows what a future between them could look like. Making a home together in the bunker, cheering each other up, giving each other breaks, defending each other and doing whatever they can to protect each other.

I'm in love with Sam learning more and more sign language, and the careful way he always makes sure that Eileen can see his lips when he's talking. Sure, I wish there was even more sign, but I can still tell they're putting in the effort, and I really appreciate it. I cannot tell you enough how cute it was to see the two of them making breakfast, Sam signing "margaritas," and Dean just staring at them with raised eyebrows like... oh so that's how it is.

The fact that Eileen was there for an Important Plot thing like Cas trying to discover the link between Sam and Chuck, and the fact that she was present for the last scene where Sam was explaining everything to Dean and Cas... that gives me high hopes. Even if she's not in too many more episodes, I think her presence will be felt. I am so here for it.

Despite Cas being something of an idiot and almost getting Sam killed, I freakin' love Cas being an angry, anxious bad-ass in the bulk of this episode. He shows up ready to re-join the fray, nearly gets Sam killed, then threatens a super dangerous dude and with Eileen's help, gets Sam back on his feet. Even though things almost broke really bad, we still got valuable information out of this, and we got to see Cas going to any length to protect Sam. Heck yes.

Before I turn to Dean's side of the episode, I want to touch on the few moments that he interacted with the Sam, Cas, and Eileen side of the plot. First of all, I love that he needed to get out of the bunker, to be away from the domestic bliss of Sam and Eileen. He's been in his head, feeling trapped and alone, and he's obviously still hurt over the way things went down between him and Cas. I like that he's restless, because it means that his ennui of the past few weeks has started to fade. I also like that he feels some measure of discomfort around Sam and Eileen, even if he's happy for his brother. Of course there's the Cas aspect of it, as Dean is behaving like someone going through a breakup. But I think even removing Cas from the scenario, it's weird for Dean to watch Sam being so... happy. He's not used to that and it certainly shifts the dynamic a bit. I hope that gets explored at least a little bit.

And then at the end, Dean rushes back into the bunker, having finally received Cas' message that Sam is in trouble. At first, he's all frantic worry, but the minute Cas tells him that Sam is okay, things immediately become awkward and strained between them. I love how Cas just tells Dean that Sam is fine, and then says "yeah," and storms away. And Dean is equal parts annoyed and hurt. The strain between them is real, and I'm excited to watch them play off of each other in this way until we finally get to some peace between them.

So we've got Dean Winchester going off on a solo hunt and then spending a night drinking and flirting with a woman and a man at a bar. And singing. And fighting. This was peak bi-Dean Winchester. I know it might not mean anything, but Dean singing that song while the colors of the bi pride flag light up the stage behind him... aw man. I was feeling some feelings.

Christian Kane does a great job with the character of Lee. He's just a bit too charming, so you know something's up... but you also get the sense that this is a guy who lost his way, that his greed and villainy now are not so different from the kinds of lines that Sam and Dean have crossed over the years. Sure, Lee is doing what he's doing for personal benefit like wealth and long life. Sam and Dean would never do that. But would Dean feed innocent people to a monster in order to save Sam's life? I mean... all signs point to yes. We've seen Sam drink demon blood, we've seen Dean torture people... these boys cross lines all the time.

And the fact that Lee is this jaded figure, someone who hunted when he was younger but doesn't see the point now, fits in so wonderfully with where Dean is at mentally right now. He literally has to fight with Lee, while re-emphasizing that even if the world is totally screwed, the response to that should be to try and fix it, not to run and hide and give up. "You fix it," he says, as he fights against the manifestation of his own internal apathy. "You don't walk away, you fight for it." Yes, Dean! Yes!

I mean, Dean and Lee spent this episode definitely 100% flirting with each other, and Lee looked at Dean like he actually loved him when Dean finally stabbed him. It was so... tender, that final moment where Dean stabbed his former friend and watched the light leave his eyes. My "Dean Winchester is Bi" alert was going haywire, but it was also more than that. We've seen Dean kill Benny, and now Lee - two people who he was close to, who were actual friends of his. The kinds of people who he would naturally gravitate to, unlike Sam and Cas, who he loves but who aren't always exactly on the same page as him socially. The fact that he has to make this sacrifice, to "kill a monster," is just so tragic, even as it puts Dean back on the right path when it comes to the larger fight against Chuck.

As a small side-note, line of the night goes to Lee: "You can't just sit around lip-syncing 'Eye of the Tiger' when no one's watching." I cackled. And the song was amazing. I'm so glad Jensen got to show off his singing chops here.

Another small note... great fight choreography and great bad-assery from Dean in this episode, what with the cool fight with Lee, and also the half-comedic, half-awesome image of Dean rolling the head of the monster out of the door. We didn't even get to see that fight - Dean is just that cool.

Timing-wise, I love that Dean fought this very symbolic fight right before Sam gets another piece of the puzzle that will lead to the defeat of Chuck. Dean's experience with Lee has put him in the right mindset to be ready to take on this fight, and now Sam has realized that Chuck is weak, and they might have a chance to end this once and for all.

Next week is the mid-season finale, I do believe. We get to see Adam, which is really exciting! My heart is breaking a little bit with how quickly this season is flying by. But I'm happy to report that all things considered, this final season of Supernatural isn't too shabby!

9/10

#review #supernatural #supernatural review #spn #spn 15x07

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san--shine · 5 years

Text

Good Morning Coffee

A/n: This is a story I wrote with @jonghostation for @shikyus because she got accepted in her first choice university. I’m so proud of her, I started this idea a few weeks ago. But without Adelle it still wouldn’t be done and probable only half as good as it is now ~

Warnings: none really, maybe some slight angst?, hate to love, 3196 words

Short summary: College starts. But what happens, if you have to share an apartment with someone, you have never meet before, but who seems to hate you for some reason?

- It’s one week before college starts

- You are sitting in the assembly hall to listen to some professors greeting the new students

- After some very boring speeches everyone goes to the front to get their keys if they stay at the college dorms and good luck wishes

- Of course this gets messy, so you stand around in the back, waiting for most of the students to go their own way

- While waiting you meet sees 2 cute guys

- They introduce each other as Seonghwa and Yeosang. You thought they were cute and since they were holding hands you came to the conclusion in your mind tho, that they are probably dating. You make a mental note to ask them some other time

- A few minutes later another boy joins you.

- He seems annoyed but friendly enough as he introduces himself as Hongjoong

- Upon hearing your name his eyes get cold, almost empty

- You take a step back, asking yourself if you said anything wrong

- Before you can overthink tho Seonghwa pulls you into a conversation about what you are studying and why you decide on it

- Soon enough you two switch numbers and you decide to open a chat room together with Yeosang who Seonghwa says will be glad to join before just adding him since he went to the front already to get his keys.

- Hongjoong was nowhere to be seen and you were kinda relieved of it

- You part ways as Yeosang comes back with two keys hanging on his fingers and giving one to Seonghwa while giving him a kiss on his cheek before blushing

- After you get your keys you walk around the campus, searching for your room which didn’t take you too long since you informed yourself in beforehand

- You only look at the number of the doors so when you finally arrive in front of your room you literally ran into someone who came from the other side of the hallway

- It was Hongjoong

- You both roll your eyes as you insert your keys, telling him he shouldn't worry and that he probably got the wrong key

- What you couldn’t see was his glare at you, some kind of knowledge in them

- As you step in the room you spot a greeting card and some fruits on the table

- It’s signed to the both of you, apologizing for the inconvenience of you two having to share a room with the reason of “to many students”, “not enough rooms”

- You both look around the room until your eyes land on one big problem

- There is only ONE BED

- No way

- As if they could see feel your frustration building up you get a message in the "we are cuties" groupchat you have with Seonghwa and Yeosang, asking you if you want to go out and explore the campus

- "I will go out.", is the only thing you say before turning around and leaving the apartment

- He just rolls his eyes and sticks out his tongue out after you

- You actually have a nice evening out with the boys and rant to them about your roommate - - They tell you that they don't know why their friend acts that way towards you, but they promise if they get any information about the topic they will let you know

- Also they tell you, that you could sleep in their room if needed

- When you came home to your new Apartment Hongjoong is sitting on the bed with his laptop, a row of pillows in the middle of the bed, dividing it perfectly in two

- You sigh defeated

- He looks up, half surprised, half annoyed, pulling one eyebrow up in question, what you don’t see since you were searching for your bath stuff to get ready for bed

- You and Hongjoong deathstare at each other when you lie down on the other half, putting earphones in and turning your volume up

~~~

- Next day you wake up to the smell of coffee along with complete silence

- Coming into the kitchen, you see 2 cups on the table. One empty one full with milk and sugar next to it

- You almost let out a sound of awe at the thoughtful gesture but resisted against it, as you decided to try and thank him later

- Since the apartment is empty you decide to unpack in peace, listening to music, dancing and singing along

- Time seemed to fly fast, because before you knew it, the morning had passed and the clock had struck into early evening hours. Unbeknownst to you, Hongjoong arrived home, only to witness the glorious sight of you dancing like an idiot around the apartment.

- It was an absolute miracle that you didn’t even notice his presence at all, which to be honest, Hongjoong was grateful for.

- Why? Because then he wouldn’t have time to realise that he had been staring at you dancing with, dare I say, affection?

- When you finally turn around to his direction he quickly looked away, barely saving face as he made an excuse to take some iced Americano in the fridge.

- Even though you caught him awkwardly looking away, you knit your brows together, confused about his attitude

- Hongjoong suddenly spoke, “I’m going out again. Unless you’re dying, don’t bother contacting me.”

- He didn’t even give you a chance to reply as he dashed out the door.

- You pouted, “Wasn’t going to, but okay dude.” You said to no one but yourself as you shrugged and continued dancing until your knees gave in.

- As you put away the final box, you looked at the clock. It was getting late, but there were yet to be signs of Hongjoong coming back to the apartment.

- At first, you thought that you couldn’t care less of where he is, but you somehow felt this pit in your stomach when you think about what he could be doing at that moment.

- To clear your conscience (and maybe do something nice for once) you made some tea and put it at his bedside table before going to sleep, carefully putting all available pillows in the middle of the bed again

- When Hongjoong finally came home, he was greeted with your soft snores.

- “Typical” He scoffed, taking off his jacket and prepared himself to go to sleep as well.

- Going to his side of the bed, he tilted his head. A mug full of tea, albeit cold, stood on the side table like it was smiling kindly towards the boy.

- Hongjoong stole a glance at your peacefully sleeping figure. Did you do this?

- All of a sudden, he felt a pang in his chest.

- He furrowed his eyebrows together from the abrupt pain. Wait, why am I feeling this? Shit.

- Panicking from such a rush of guilt, he spontaneously took the mug and chugged the entirety of it within seconds.

- After he coughed a couple of times, he tucked himself in, stealing one last look of you before serenely looking up at the ceiling.

- Conflicted with overwhelming emotion, he wrapped his hands around his head.

- Adamant about his “hatred” for you, he decided to fix the room without even telling you.

- And after many failed attempts, he managed to find a music studio which rented unused studios out to students, and it couldn’t have been a more perfect escape.

~~~

- The next day you wake up to the smell of coffee again, this time with a note next to it

- "don't wait up, have a nice day"

- you decided to go out and message Seonghwa and Yeosang if they want to join you

- They decline since they were unpacking but asked if you would want to come over instead

- You arrive at their little apartment, which was actually bigger than yours and had two bedrooms, even though they were only using one

- They didn’t let you help so you sit on Seonghwas bed and try to talk to him about Hongjoong

- But he just shrugged and said that he doesn’t know what was going on inside his head

- Yeosang said though, that it still sounds just like their friend, since even in highschool he was always busy and sleeping only a few hours at ungodly times of the day

- When you came home from your day at the lovebirds apartment, you are surprised to hear loud music before you even open the door

- There he was, blasting some seemingly random beats over his speakers, sitting on the floor surrounded by sheets of paper

- You look at him in awe and before you could stop yourself you say: “I didn’t know you work on music”

- Your voice startles him, he lets out a loud huff and stars to gather his stuff

- ”yeah I do. Until you came along.”

- Hongjoong tries to walk past you and out the door when you snap:

- “What is your problem with me? You know normal roommates can usually communicate! If you need some space I get that, I can be quiet and just do my stuff over there and put headphones in. HOW ABOUT JUST SPEAKING TO ME FOR ONCE?!”

- He just looks at you with big eyes, mouth slightly agape

- ”You know what? forget it.”

- With that you take your bag which hangs by the door. “I will be in the library for the rest of the day.”

- The apartment loomed in darkness when you arrived there, which is weird because you see Hongjoong’s shoes in the hallway.

- Hongjoong sits on the bed, headphones in his laptop, seemingly working

- But as soon a you put your bag down he looks up and you mentally prepare for some harsh words as reaction to your own ones earlier

- “I’m sorry.”

- “pardon?”

- “I’m not used to living with someone. I usually like to be on my own and requested that at the college. So I was pissed when I found out that I will have a roommate when they gave me my key. So I asked for a name to find them and talk to them. It wasn’t your fault. I should have talked to you.”

- You just nod

- After this you just talked everything out, sitting on the bed.

- "So..is that it? Are we cool?"

- You hummed, "No"

- "What?!"

- "Not until we set down some ground rules."

- Hongjoong retorted," I thought we did that when we first moved in."

- You gave him a deadpan look, "Bordering the two sides of the bed with a wall of pillows is not setting down ground rules, Hongjoong."

- “It kinda is, thou-” You gave him another look that made him backtrack, “ Ah, okay, I see your point.”

- Seeing him hurrying to agree with you after you intimidated him amused you, because you didn’t even mean it that much. A smile tugged on your lips as you suggested a few starter rules.

- Before long, the both of you agreed on a comprehensive set of regulations written on a piece of paper, albeit stained with coffee and in Hongjoong’s questionable writing, to which he claimed is due to your impatient dictation.

- “You try writing stuff when the person dictating it to you doesn’t want to spare 2 seconds in slowing down.”

- ”Dude, we’re in college. That’s practically our lives.”

- ”Shut up.”

- “Then keep writing!”

- When you look at the final result, you smiled, “ This should do it. I especially like this extra detail you put in the corners.”

- “ I am an artiste, ladybug, let my creativity fly.”

- You sniggered, “God, the moment we’re not at each other’s throats, you turn even more annoying, how is that even possible?”

- “And you’re still sweet as ever, aren’t you?”

- The both of you chuckled as you subtly changed the subject.

- You tell him how cool you think it is that he does music as a hobby, but that you don’t like him to overwork himself after he told you how his friends found him passed out on his laptop once.

- When you grow tired you two build the pillows in the middle of the bed together. Just to be sure you know

~~~

- After that you kind of become friends, he still gets annoyed if you are home too much while hes working and you sometimes snap at him when you realize he hasn’t eaten anything in 30 hours but it’s nice

- It feels kinda special

- One day when you come home early because the lecture was boring and you couldn’t be bothered to just sit there and act like you care what your professor was talking about you catch Hongjoong having a phone call

- He seems a bit frustrated with something, saying stuff like “No, I don’t want it.” “No, it’s fine.”

- So you go and start preparing some tea, what you know by now calms his nerves a bit

- When he finishes the call he flinches when he sees you standing there, luckily with your back turned to him

- You don’t hear him talking anymore so you felt free to ask: “What was the call about?”

- “Nothing.”, he answers too quickly, watching your back intensely

- “Okay then.”, you knew better than to start discussing with him. He would come to you if he wants to talk about it.

- “I made you some tea.”

- You turn around and you swear you could see something like softness in his eyes before he casts them down at the cup of tea that you reach out to him

- What you didn’t know was that the call Hongjoong got was from the College telling him that he could have his own apartment now

- But he declined

- Because you are good for his health and he knows he would feel lonely now alone in a big apartment. Even though he would never admit that out loud.

~~~

- It’s a Sunday when you wake up because you feel too warm

- You try to stretch to wake up fully, but there are arms holding you close and your legs are entangled

- You let out a small screech and try to get up, which wakes up Hongjoong who falls out of the bed with a small yelp as he lets you go

- “I’m sorry!” “Sorry..”, you both apologize in an instant

- The breakfast afterwards was awkward to say the least, since no one wants to talk about the way they woke up

- Saying you need some fresh air you go out, leaving him alone in the apartment, overthinking on his own

- He tries to put what he feels into a song, it’s the only way he feels confident enough to speak about himself

- You try to reach Seonghwa and Yeosang to talk to them, but your texts don’t seem to get through and when you try to call only the voicemail answers

- Luckily it’s good weather so you search for a nice place to sit down and just think

- Some hours went by and you seem to have fallen asleep

- Because the next thing you know is opening your eyes to Seonghwas worried face while he softly shakes your shoulders

- Apparently Yeosang and he had been searching everywhere for you after they looked at their phones and then you were the one who they didn’t seem to be able to reach

- While Seonghwa sits next to you and text his lover that he found you, you try to summarize what happened the last days especially this morning

- Seonghwa listens patiently and asks you if you want to spend the night at their place since they have an unused bed

- So it happens to be the first night you decide to sleep at the, how you sweetly call it, lovebirds place, giving hongjoong a quick heads up over text

- Hongjoong doesn’t like the knot he feels settling in his stomach, but he accepts

- What else should he do anyway

- He uses the extra time to perfect the lyrics to his song

~~~

- It takes him several days in and out of the studio to finish the song

- In that time you two don’t see each other often

- Most of the time one leaves while the other comes back to the apartment

- It starts to get on your nerves

- And you start to worry a bit because Hongjoong seems to sleep at the studio, at least you fall asleep alone and wake up alone

- Even though you don’t want to admit it, you miss him

- A lot

~~~

- One day you come home from studying, you hear a soft melody playing in the apartment when you open the door

- you come in slowly, not wanting to scare Hongjoong out of the apartment

- Because actually you want to talk to him about what happened a few days ago

- And maybe tell him that you kinda miss him?!

- When you step into the room there is food on the table, he even found an old candle somewhere and lit up in the middle of it

- “Joong?”, you call him questioning, his nickname rolling off your tongue like butter

- You hear him hum from the kitchen. “Sit down, I'll be right there.”

- So you do just that, waiting.

- The air feels kinda thick, filled with anticipation, and curiosity about what is happening right now

- With nothing else to calm yourself down, you took it upon yourself to focus on the song that had been playing.

- It was as soft as when the melody started, the lyrics just as enchanting and beautiful.

- However, after a while, you stopped yourself to further analyse; The lyrics, it tells a story. A story all too familiar.

- And that was when you knew. This song, this ethereal piece, is about you.

- Blood rushed towards your cheeks as the realisation hits you.

- Joong stands in the door, watching you and your reactions closely

- “Now that you know how I feel about you, lets eat.”

- You wish you could knock that smirk out of his face but you are speechless, overwhelmed by emotions

- You eat quietly, only glancing at him every now and then, same goes for him.

- “Joongie?”

- “Hmm?”, he raises one of his eyebrows

- “I missed you.”

~~~

- A few days later you wake up to a kiss on your cheek

- “what the fuck was that?”

#For Andreea #I'm so proud of you #Thank you so much Adelle #I love you <3 #Momma writes #Ateez au #Ateez imagine #Ateez imagines #College au #Ateez #Hongjoong #Kim Hongjoong #HongjoongxReader #Seongsang #only a bit tho #I hope you like this #The end is kinda short #But we thought 6 pages are enough for now #I wish I knew how to write good tags

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