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itsuki-minamy · 9 months

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"K - RETURN OF KINGS" (Novel)

CHAPTER 9: NEKO'S DREAM (Part 1)

* List of Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Awashima Seri let out a deep breath as she leaned back on the couch in the living room.

Ever since they were defeated in the decisive battle of Mihashira Tower, Awashima barely took a break. There was a lot to do. Pick up the injured, transport them to the hospital, rearrange shifts to fill in the gaps, contact and inform relevant parties, track down the missing "Dresden Slate" and gather information, while conducting normal activities such as crime patrol, in order to minimize the members' agitation due to defeat. She couldn't show even the slightest hesitation.

"Phew."

Awashima let out another sigh and rubbed her eyes.

"Please rest for a while." If Akiyama hadn't negotiated with a serious expression, Awashima would have kept working. And then she should have collapsed. Not to mention the physical exhaustion, the mental exhaustion was reaching its limit. Awashima still suffered from losing, and there was one thing that worried her more than anything else.

This is the case of Munakata and Fushimi.

It seems that there was an argument between Munakata and Fushimi in the early morning of the 25th. Even if she regretted not being there at that time, now it wasn't a big deal.

The most shocking thing was the fact that Munakata had an argument with someone. What that "King" made was a theory or a statement, even if there was, it would have been an argument, and it was unimaginable that he would fight violently with someone.

No, thinking so, Awashima smiled while she still covered her eyes.

She has only seen Munakata get angry once. How many years ago was that? When Suoh had just become the "Red King". Munakata tried to persuade Suoh and for some reason it turned into a battle.

At that time, Awashima could do almost nothing. When she became a member of the "Scepter 4" clan, she learned the entire history of supernatural powers. Among them, the clash between the predecessor "Blue King" and the "Red King", which is said to be the worst, and the "Kagutsu Incident" at the end. The clash between Munakata and Suoh seemed like a repeat of that.

Even Suoh couldn't have ignored that story. Despite that, that man easily kicked Munakata away. What made Munakata angry was Suoh's irresponsibility.

However, Fushimi is not a "King".

Even as capable as he is, he is just a member of the clan. He is in no way equal to Munakata. It was unthinkable that Munakata would have a fight with him and finally drive him out.

Could that also be because of the injuries he received?

Then...

"What I can do?"

Her gaze moved slowly, and settled into a gothic-style coffee table near the couch.

Awashima's saber was leaning there.

(Reisi Munakata's right-hand man is you, not me.)

The man who once said that to Awashima cut to his own "King". As a result, he saved this country. Habari Jin expected that? A clan member who is most loyal to himself brings death upon himself. Was that the right path for her?

What about Munakata?

Wait, who will be by his side when she drops his "Sword of Damocles"? Could it really be her?

Is it possible for her to kill the Captain...?

"......!"

The doubts that had been suppressed until now spilled over, and Awashima frowned as if she was enduring the pain.

Despite being defeated, Munakata is still alive and well. The Clansman are also desperately searching for the whereabouts of the "Green King". There is still a chance to get the "Slate" back. They did not lose completely.

Still, the second hand of doom is definitely advancing.

When "that moment" comes, she must draw that saber. That was the role of Seri Awashima, the Vice-Captain of "Scepter 4", which she couldn't cede to anyone else.

Lying back on the sofa she tried to catch her breath.

She didn't want to think about it anymore. She remembered that Akiyama took it from her when she tried to remove her PDA from her chest. Because if she does, she'll have to work.

From there, her thoughts turned elsewhere.

No one was able to contact Fushimi. All incoming calls from "Scepter 4" were blocked and in the case of "Homura" it was no different. Contact lost and gone. They have no idea where and what he is doing these days.

One of the reasons she wants him to come back is that Fushimi's disappearance is the cause of half of that hustle. He is a capable man. When it comes to information processing, there's no one better than Fushimi, and there are mountains of jobs that can't be done without Fushimi.

And she on the other hand is just worried about Fushimi.

Fushimi is not a nice person, even by flattery. Rather, to put it bluntly, he has a bad personality. He's the type of person people hate, and Awashima didn't like him either.

Still, there is something about Fushimi that cannot be left alone.

He is sharp as a knife, but has a brittle side like glass. Despite being extremely talented, he is fatally bad at trusting others. Where and what is he doing now that he has jumped from "Scepter 4"? Thinking about it makes her feel uncomfortable. Hopefully he doesn't get desperate and get involved in weird things.

Just as she was thinking about it, there was a knock on the break room door.

"Fu, Vice-Captain! It's hard!"

Awashima sat down heavily. A lot of hard things have happened in the last few days. Just adding one more thing now won't change anything, the voice from the other side of the door pushed away a careless thought.

"The "Jungle" clansman, Douhan Hirasaka has escaped from prison! It is believed that the missing Saruhiko Fushimi guided her!"

++++++++++

Blade proof suit, tactical vest, heeled boots and combat gloves. Even when she got dressed and moved her body, there was nothing unnatural about it. The grenades, flashbangs, and shurikens that Fushimi always kept on hand were nowhere to be found in the cardboard box that Fushimi brought, but it couldn't be helped. Those clothes were just "trial items", and the ones in there were "dangerous goods". In any case, if she went back to the hideout, she could replace it.

Fushimi looked coldly into the rearview mirror as Hirasaka adjusted her equipment in the back seat. There was no light inside the van parked in the dark alley, and the only light was the unreliable interior lights.

While he pretended to manipulate a PDA, Hirasaka also watched Fushimi without letting her guard down.

In a way, that place was dead.

If one of them wanted to, a battle would break out in no time. Other than Fushimi, Hirasaka has no reason to keep him alive. If the freedom that was fortunately obtained was solidified, it would have been better to shut Fushimi's mouth there.

She wondered if she could.

She answered herself that she could do it. Dangerous goods have been seized across the board, but she's got a switchblade in her combat gloves. Make a hole and pick his throat. That would be enough.

"Do not think too much."

Leaning down from the driver's seat, Fushimi stabbed into the nail.

"I took the knife out of your glove. Right now you don't have anything you can stab or cut with."

Hirasaka tried to operate the glove. Shukon, a stupid sound resonated and the knife did not come out. Hirasaka shrugged as she gave him a cool look.

"You have quite a hobby going through women's clothing."

"I never thought of you as a woman, wall-breaker. I tell you, there's no use trying to escape. Next time, I'll sew your whole body to the back seat."

Before she knew it, a knife appeared in Fushimi's palm. When she thought about it, she remembered that this man was also a concealed weapon user.

"Alright."

Hirasaka raised both hands as if she was giving up.

"Cancel the plan to kill the enemy. It's impossible. So what do you want from me?"

Fushimi snorted and waved his hand, and the knife disappeared like a magic trick. Then, he said...

"I'm going to be a ranker. Help me with that."

As expected, she was surprised.

But once she got past the initial shock, a thought came to her: "That must be so.". Fushimi's actions were clearly a rebellion against "Scepter 4". In that case, Fushimi should have given up on the Blue Clan, so it was only natural for him to run to "Jungle".

Hirasaka said...

"If it's the second time, is betrayal something you're good at? Even I frown."

"Don't lie, you say it's wrong because it's against morality. Your parents seem to have seen through your true nature."

Of course, Douhan was not a name given to her by her parents.

But that didn't matter. Hirasaka asked.

"What are my benefits?"

"I got you out of jail."

"Do you want me to return the favor? Unfortunately, I don't remember turning into a crane."

"I know, you can't follow me without millet dumplings."

Saying that, Fushimi blurted out something.

She received it reflexively. Of course, it was not a millet dumpling. It was a wad of rubber-bound bills. 500,000, guessed by touch.

"Is it a deposit?"

"If the mission is successful, I will give you the same reward. In return, all the points earned are mine."

Hirasaka thought fast.

Exchanging points for cash violates the "Jungle" rules. However, there are loopholes in any rule, and even though two people completed the quest, there are often situations where only one person gets points. You can help one without accepting the quest. So if the other checks it with cash, he is effectively buying points with money.

A million per mission, not a bad amount. However, drinking only in "not bad" conditions would not be a business.

"A million, regardless of the difficulty of the mission. That's not worth it."

Fushimi responded flatly.

"I will generate incentives based on the difficulty level. When I rank up, it will come with a bonus."

1,000,000 is the minimum guaranteed amount and the incentive is negotiable. It was perfect, or rather, it was definitely a delightful piece of work. Hirasaka thought for a few seconds and decided that there was no point in throwing it any further. Instead of sticking around and getting concessions, it will be more profitable to stay in a short and long relationship.

"Alright."

Facing Hirasaka, who briefly agreed, Fushimi nodded and started the engine.

Hirasaka asked while she was a bit surprised.

"No way, from now on?"

"What do you think of that 500,000? I already sent you the mission details. It's an easy job, so there's no incentive."

Saying that, Fushimi started the van.

Inside the trembling car, Hirasaka pressed the switch on her neck. A full-face tactical mask covered her head. A glowing green HUD appeared in front of her and various information was projected onto her retina.

"Work.", she murmured into her mask.

Hirasaka is a professional. There is a precise calculation formula behind the action, and it is not moved by emotions.

Still, this situation brought a kind of excitement to Hirasaka. She could work. It was the only thing in her empty life that gave Hirasaka a feeling similar to joy.

Feeling the electricity of "Jungle" running through her body, Hirasaka slowly began to read the details of the mission.

++++++++++

Neko was gone.

After the "Decisive Battle at Mihashira Tower" ended that day, and after she disappeared due to recognition tampering, she never appeared again. It was the same when he returned to School Island, and no matter how many times he called her, never got a single answer.

"Where did she go? No way..."

Shiro smiled and shook his head at Kuro who frowned in concern.

"No. Neko is close, because this island is her home."

Although there was no wind, he felt the rustling of the leaves and the branches of the trees. Neko was close. She was probably close enough to hear their voices.

"Then why doesn't she appear in front of us?"

At Kuro's question, Shiro made a slightly sad face.

"...I wonder if she is afraid of us."

Emotions are everything to her. Anger, sadness, joy and fear. Get closer to comfort and move away from fear. That's how she lived her whole life.

Not long ago, her peace was with Shiro.

It was different now.

Shiro has become an object of fear for her. That's because Shiro has realized the root of Neko's fear.

What Neko fears the most is "Ameno Miyabi".

Her real name. The real me of her. She is terrified of who she really is.

Not that Neko understands why she's afraid of him. Of course, Shiro doesn't know either. If Neko herself doesn't understand how she ended up in that state, no one can.

But at that moment, the image of a scared, trembling and cowering Neko broke his heart.

Shiro looked away from Kuro and slowly looked around him. Somewhere in that field of vision, Neko could be. Maybe not. Using the power of the "King", it is easy to remove the disguise from her. But doing so would not solve anything.

Instead, Shiro raised his voice.

"You should go to Kukuri. She's not scary, right? So, when you've calmed down, can you come back? I want to talk to you, Neko."

There was no answer. The trees were quiet. Kuro lowered his eyes pitifully.

Still, Shiro muttered under his breath.

"...I'll be waiting."

Then he walked away. To the student dormitory, to the place where Shiro was, to the place where Kuro and Neko should return.

++++++++++

"Eeeh?!"

The reason she unintentionally let out a voice was because there was someone in her room, which should have been empty. A student dormitory where the students of Gakuenjima live. After classes were over for the day, Yukizome Kukuri found that "lump" when she returned home humming.

The lump was in her bed. She was using a futon. She knows that she is a person, but she doesn't know who she is. As far as Kukuri knows, however, there is only one person who would likely do such a thing.

That is to say...

"...Wagahai-chan? What are you doing?"

The "lump" collapsed. From the mouth of the futon, from the dark shadow, only a glimpse of blue eyes peeked out.

"...Alright."

"Eh?"

"I'm Neko."

Her voice was tinged with tears.

With a small sigh, Kukuri put her school bag on the ground. As she sat on the bed, the ''lump'' began to move. Kukuri asked kindly.

"Did you fight with Kuro-kun?"

The "lump" moved again. She shook her head. Kukuri continued, placing her palm along the back of the futon.

"So, Shiro-kun?"

She moved a little more this time. She denied it even more than before. Knowing it wasn't a fight between the two of them, Kukuri let her gaze wander through the air.

"Well, then..."

Saying that, Kukuri remembered that she didn't know anything else about Neko.

Both Kuro and Neko live in a different world than Kukuri. The two are not students at the school, but for some reason they are mysterious beings who have settled on that island. Recently, a boy named Isana Yashiro joined them. She knew they weren't ordinary people, but Kukuri didn't quite understand who they were.

When she was searching for the words, the "lump" came to her.

"It's frightening."

"Eh?"

Wide-eyed, Kukuri asked the futon.

"What are you afraid of?"

"......"

The futon moved. as if trembling After a brief silence, she heard a muffled voice.

"Ameno Miyabi."

She had no idea what she was talking about.

"Hmm, I see..."

Kukuri crossed her arms and thought deeply. It's like asking a baby. She didn't understand what Neko meant. She has no way of expressing what she wants to say. Or maybe she doesn't want to say it in the first place. The only way to fill in the missing information is by marking each one.

"Why are you afraid of that?"

After a while, Kukuri asked.

"There is a door."

A door. Is it some kind of metaphor? Kukuri blinked and waited patiently for the word of the ''lump''.

"I hear a voice coming from the door. It's calling me. Her name is Ameno Miyabi..."

Kukuri took a deep breath.

She calling her. Does that mean "Ameno Miyabi" is Neko?

As if she read Kukuri's thoughts, the ''lump'' moved violently.

"No! Wagahai is a cat! It's not like that!"

Neko is an emotional girl. Jumping, crying and laughing, she has seen that kind of thing many times.

However, it was the first time she had seen Neko deny something so desperately.

A conflict was born within Kukuri. She doesn't know much about Neko. She might be safe to say that she doesn't know anything. And yet, is it okay to say something to Neko now? Surely Neko is afraid of a fundamental "something". Also, is she okay if she carelessly touches her?

No.

It is neither good nor bad.

She wanted to do it.

This innocent girl is scared to the point of death. She wrapped in a futon and snuggled up. If so, she would love to help her. Those were Kukuri's true feelings.

"Well, the door is..."

As if groping, Kukuri twisted the words.

"Isn't it possible to throw it somewhere? How about we throw it in the sea or in the mountains?"

Neko shook her head at the trivial idea.

"Impossible..."

"Well, what about opening it? If you try to open it unexpectedly, you might wonder what it is."

Once again, Neko denied.

"No..."

Laughing softly, Kukuri patted Neko's back.

"I see. That's true. You can't open scary things by yourself. Fine, then…"

Kukuri said what came to her mind.

"What if you're with someone?"

"......"

"Kuro-kun or Shiro-kun. If it's those two, can you open it together? That way, it's much less scary than opening it yourself."

The "lump" didn't even move.

Just when she was wondering if she said something wrong, Neko whispered.

"You can stay?"

"Eh?"

"Even if I'm not a cat, will Shiro and Kuro still be together?"

She wished could tell her that it's normal.

But saying that, Kukuri was not irresponsible, nor was she familiar with those two. She doesn't know what kind of people Yatogami Kuro and Isana Yashiro really are.

That's why Kukuri said...

"What do you think, Wagahai-chan? So, do you think those two will break up?"

After a short pause, the "lump" began to move.

Seeing that, Kukuri smiled.

"I see. Good for you."

"......"

The mouth of the futon, from the shadow inside, peered out blue and gold eyes. When she blinked once and opened her eyelids, the tears had already disappeared.

++++++++++

She heard a voice.

From inside the closet. through the door. The voice kept calling her name.

"Ameno Miyabi."

The owner of that voice was not alone.

An old man's voice yelled as if he was crazy.

The voices of a man and a woman cursing the monster and asking it to return the child.

The voice of a young man, intelligent and cold.

But they were all different. She knew it wasn't true.

"Ameno Miyabi."

Actually, it's her voice.

Wagahai's voice. Her voice.

She was the one who made the door and pushed everything through it. She forgot about it. After all, Wagahai is a cat. Cats do not think about anything, do not remember, do not worry, they just need to sleep comfortably in a safe place. Because that's all she wanted, she turned into a cat.

Even though that was all she wanted.

"Ameno Miyabi."

She heard a voice on the other side of the door. She heard her own voice. "Ameno Miyabi" is called "Ameno Miyabi". She was calling Wagahai.

Maybe she could open the door, because she was the one who closed it. Cancel recognition manipulation ability. It's easy because she's done it before with Shiro.

But then she doesn't know what will happen.

What would those two say if she was selfish? Will they accept her as she is?

Or like those people, will they fear her and turn away from her?

If that happens, she is certain that she will never be able to find peace again.

That's the only thing Neko was afraid of.

"Oh."

Her heart jumped a lot, and Neko reflexively jumped high.

With wide blue and gold eyes, she Neko saw him.

On the bedroom ceiling. A green parrot perched on a windswept water tower.

The entire body is covered with hair. A real cat would have curled her fat tail. Fear and chill numbed Neko's judgment.

Suddenly, the parrot spread its wings and screamed.

"Whoa! Stupid cat, scared, scared!"

Her face turned red. Anger overcame fear and Neko threatened Kotosaka with her entire body.

"There's no such thing as scary! Stupid!"

"Whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah!"

Kotosaka laughed triumphantly, and Neko shifted into a battle stance. Just when she thought she was going to catch him, rip off his wings, and dunk him in the sauce, Kotosaka's demeanor changed in an instant.

"Please stop, Kotosaka. I came looking for her today. Don't make her angry."

"Whoah!"

After a sharp cry, Kotosaka fell silent. Sensing a touch of intelligence behind his camera gaze, Neko braced herself.

"Eh?"

Of course, Neko knows the names of the others. Even so, the reason she asked was to delay the main topic, even if it was a bit.

The parrot nodded and answered.

"Right. It's my first time speaking like this, so let me introduce myself again. My name is Hisui Nagare. I am the "Green King". What is your name?"

A name. It's nothing, it was accompanied by the pain of spitting fire.

"Wagahai... I'm Neko..."

"Oh, really?"

Neko froze at the question which he immediately returned to.

"Is your name really Neko? No, that's not the right question. Do you really think your name is Neko?"

"......"

"In that case, I'll teach you. Your name is Ameno Miyabi. The only daughter of Ameno Taichi and Ameno Hinako, who lived on 1-3-21 Higashi Naebara, Naebara City, Kanagawa Prefecture."

Neko certainly remembered the feeling of something entwined under her feet.

"14 years ago. You were 2 years old at the time and miraculously survived the Kagutsu Incident in southern Kanto. Perhaps your super power was awakened at that time."

That grabbed a leg like it was mud, crawled like an ivy and tried to bind Neko's body. She was afraid and wanted to run away, but she couldn't move her body.

Neko knew what that was. The true nature of what she herself had confined and bound.

It's called "past."

"You lost your parents and used your cognitive manipulation to survive. Even so, you were still young, so maybe it was instinctive. You manipulated the perceptions of a couple, and underneath them..."

"Stop."

Neko said that to Nagare, who was talking about her own "past" with a machine voice that spoke clearly of the record nonchalantly.

Surprisingly, Nagare suddenly stopped speaking. Kotosaka tilted his head curiously.

"You really don't remember. I get it. Apparently, you can even manipulate your own perception."

"I don't know, Wagahai is like that..."

"Of course. You've even sealed the memory of sealing your memory. It's natural that you don't know. I also didn't come here to talk about the past. My origin is in the past, but I always look to the future."

Then Kotosaka spread his wings.

As if he extended.

"I came looking for you. Ameno Miyabi, or simply Neko. We are compatriots."

Neko blinked slowly, looked at Nagare and asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Let's put it another way. We are comrades."

At those words, Neko violently shook her head. She looked up with her blue and gold eyes like a kitten cowering in fear and threatening her enemies.

"No. I'm not your friend. You bully Kuro and Shiro! I hate those kind of people!"

"You don't like people bullying those two. Is it because they're your friends?"

"That's right! Shiro and Kuro are Wagahai's friends!"

"Even if they know your true identity, will those two still be your friends?"

Like an awl, Nagare's voice accurately pierced Neko's weak and soft parts.

"Ameno Miyabi. Or Neko. That's what you fear the most. Fearing your true identity would be known, you kept your true identity away from yourself. It must have been painful to be called a monster by those you believed in. I feel sorry for you."

Her chest ached as if she had been stabbed. Breathing became rapid and shallow. Not knowing why that happened, Neko's face twisted in pain and fear.

"Is there any guarantee that those two won't do that? Any guarantee that they won't run away from you after finding out who you really are?"

Yes. That was terrifying.

She was sure that she would be fine. That's what she wanted to believe. It was easy and logical to think so. Shiro forgave Neko. She gave him a fake personality and memories, manipulated him conveniently, even so, Shiro told her that she could stay by his side.

But, now, if that didn't happen...

Just thinking about it made her body shudder. Even if she knows it's impossible, it's like there's a physical obstacle and her thoughts stop moving forward.

As if he huddled against Neko's fear, Nagare whispered softly.

"I would not do that."

Neko looked at Nagare.

"Because I already know your true identity. How did you do that? Why did you do that? Because I know more than you do."

"......"

"Neko. Or Ameno Miyabi. We are compatriots. We are friends. If you are a monster, I am a ghost. I died because of that incident, and then I was reborn because of that incident."

Monster. The words that once drove her to loneliness strangely no longer scared Neko.

That's probably because Nagare is telling the truth. It's not because he's blaming himself or cursing, but because he believes he's a true partner.

"But I deny my own words. I am not a ghost, I am a human. You are not a monster either, you are a human. To survive, to pave the way, we will use all the power we have. If that is not human, then all the humans in this world would be inhuman."

With his intellectual tone intact, Nagare's words took on a tinge of warmth. It's as if he was silently revealing his hidden feelings that he had been thinking about for a long time.

Neko muttered in a weak voice.

"I am a cat..."

"Yes. You can also be a cat. That's what it means to be human. It doesn't matter if there is someone who will become the "King". It's okay to have humans turn into cats. It's okay to have a parrot to be your friend. That's the kind of world I'm aiming for."

At those words, Neko's eyes widened.

The first thing that came to her mind was a warm world. No one would harass Neko there. They would not throw stones at her or call her a monster. Because there is a world where everyone has turned into a monster. Manipulate people's memories, spit flames, and fly freely. In a world where everyone is like this, Wagahai, she could still be a cat.

#k #k project #reisi munakata #k rok #isana yashiro #neko #yatogami kuro #silver clan #homura #suoh mikoto #homra #fushimi saruhiko #yata misaki #douhan hirasaka #jungle #scepter 4 #seri awashima #nagare hisui #kotosaka

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jilyarchive · 2 years

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OCTOBER AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT: MISSGRYFFIN

Q: Where can we find you and your stories?

A: @missgryffin, AO3

Q: How would you describe your writing style?

A: Intense, sexy, snappy, and fast-paced. I have a rampant imagination and love a good sexual tension build-up, so my fics usually include a lot of plot, drama, and (of course) smut.

Q: How do you come up with ideas for your writing?

A: It’s such a grab-bag. A pretty substantial number of my fics have originated from prompts, actually! I also draw a lot on TV shows/movies I’ve seen, novels I’ve read, tropes I see that I’m inspired to try, etc. Also, I find that a lot of my ideas actually form while I’m writing. I’ll go in with a sense of direction, but it’s not until I’m writing and really in the thick of it that the details take shape, and then new ideas begin to spout off from there, based on what I learn about what the characters and story need.

Q: When and why did you begin writing fanfiction?

A: Technically, during the two-year wait between the releases of books 5 and 6, because I was utterly HP obsessed, my imagination was in overdrive thinking about what could happen in the final two books, and I had discovered MuggleNet fanfiction / FFN by that point, so I’d been devouring all of that early era of HP fanfic. I actually have a giant binder of my own fanfic writing from that period; I would type up stories in Word, format them with fun fonts and fan art covers I found online, and print them out for myself. (Which, I still do this!) Fun fact: there’s even a Marauders story in there that I had completely forgotten about that has a striking resemblance to the bones of Eternal Summer. It genuinely freaked me out a little when I found it, ha!

But even though I wrote creatively through most of my childhood/school phases of life, I had taken a pretty substantial break in early adulthood and didn’t “return” to writing until the pandemic in 2020. Life was bizarre, Netflix had gotten boring, and I was craving a creative outlet or hobby that could make lockdown bearable. I randomly stumbled my way back to fanfic / fandom, and here we are!

Q: What’s one thing you’d tell someone who is considering reading one of your fics?

A: Buckle up! 🎢 Also, I hope you are either i) at home, or ii) have a really great NSFW poker face 😅 But to give a more serious answer, I’d say that I write a wide range of tones, and I really lean in to what that tone is. If a fic is tagged for fluff and crack, it will be so adorably sweet and cringe-funny that your face will hurt from smiling. If a fic is tagged for angst and darker themes, it will feel like a knife to the gut. (If it’s tagged for all of the above—cough Eternal Summer cough—you’re at the front of a line for a wild rollercoaster, my friend!) Since I write both extremes, I’m never offended when readers skip fics or prefer one “genre” to another. But please know that Jily is always endgame in all of my stories—that’s the whole reason why we’re here 💗

Q: What are some of your favorite Jily tropes?

A: Enemies to lovers is my #1, even if it’s more of that “enemies-ish” rivalry at the beginning. There’s just nothing more quintessentially Jily to me than the process of them discovering more layers to the other person and slowly realizing that the other person is so much more than the antagonist they’d built up in their head. (And that they -gasp- actually…like them! Worse, they like them like them! A lot!) Gets me every time.

Other favorites include There Was Only One Bed, Hurt/Comfort, and Forced Proximity/Stuck/Trapped.

Q: What do you like most about the Jily fandom?

A: That we celebrate how much of a power couple Jily is. I’m going to quote @jilyss’ answer for this because it’s so true: we understand James has an arrogant streak but grew up, we celebrate Lily for the intelligent, strong, cool, bamf woman she is, and we appreciate how they’re true, complementary equals finding real, raw love with one another. (And also all the wonderful reader and fellow-writer friends I’ve made! 😘)

Q: Pick a favourite Marauders era character.

A: My man JP. From only the few hints we get about him in the books, we know he’s such a dynamic person, and I really love bringing him to life. Also, his growth/redemption story deserved more air-time, so I’m glad fanfic is here to fill that gap.

Q: Self-promo time! List the fics that you are most proud of writing.

Eternal Summer – My first born! Even though it’s far from being finished and needs a lot of work, I’m really proud of the world-building I’ve done thus far.

Vindicated – This was thrilling for me to write because it’s a total departure from what I’d previously written: second chances, canon-divergent AU, American settings, original characters, more adult relationship, etc. I have more planned for this universe and I’m really excited for it.

for the hope of it all – My latest completed fic. I challenged myself to write a softer, friends-to-lovers, mutually pining kind of summer fic, and this came together in a flood. But what makes me proud is that with this fic, I could really see how much my writing has evolved and improved from those early ES days.

Q: Fic rec time! Could you recommend a few of your favourite Jily fics?

Of Chrysalism by @maraudersftw – It’s only a short one-shot, but the way this fic haunts me!! Exquisite.

The Wedding Ring by @mppmaraudergirl – Lauren is the Nancy Meyers of Jily, and this fic is the epitome of that. A total comfort fic for me; I want it to be a movie that I can play in my living room over and over again until I know it by heart.

Eighteen Again by @scriibble-fics – If I didn’t know scriibble was getting her PhD in History, I’d think she was a screenwriter. The world-building in this fic is like no other—I’m in a constant state of chills when I read it. The emotional depth, the heartbreak, the romance, the political intrigue…it’s one of those fics that never leaves you.

Thank you @missgryffin for letting us ‘interview’ you and for sharing your fics with us! ❤️

#october author spotlight #author spotlight #thank you!!#its requested author month #next will be another random selection :)

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k-martins · 8 months

Text

Words: + 2K Prompt: Pocky Game Warning: We don't have many spoilers here, except that this takes place after episode 6 of season two. Maybe alert to swear words and Megumi's bad mood. A/N: I can say that I became obsessed with pockys after I saw them in that Yuji bag, and then I discovered this game and my hands itched to write something, although I don't know if I'll do a part two of this. If you don't know the game, it's more or less this: "The Pocky game is a party game played with Pocky, a Japanese chocolate- or candy-coated biscuit snack. Two participants place the Pocky between them “Lady and the Tramp” style, and try to be the last to hold onto the biscuit, often resulting in a kiss." So yes, someone needed to write this with ITFS!

“Did you spend all your money on sweets?” Kugisaki clicked her tongue as she looked inside the paper bag, looking irritated, but Megumi knew she had a wicked smile on her face. "What's wrong with you? Five years?"

“ Hey ! I need to be fueled up for the movie!” Itadori defended himself, throwing himself awkwardly next to Megumi, causing the table to shake. “They are promising that this will be the most exciting film in the saga. I have to be ready to face any anguish!”

As serious as Itadori's tone was, as if he truly believed this, Megumi had His doubts. There is little chance that a generic American horror film – which had as its main theme people with mutant loveworm genes, by the way – would be so exciting to the point that Itadori would buy a bag full of various sugary freaks. Honestly, this was much worse than the purchases Gojo made for home when he took care of Megumi, and the man with white hair and eccentric taste in facial accessories had soda flowing instead of blood through his veins.

Kugisaki shook his head lightly. She cast her sharp, questioning gaze at Megumi.

“Since you read about this thing and aren't a lunatic fan, respond. That is true?"

Megumi sighed audibly, ignoring for the sake of his sanity the delighted look Itadori had on his face. Instead of thinking about how the boy next to him seemed overjoyed with the information, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and opened the cinema's official website, turning the screen to show Kugisaki the information about the films currently showing . If the girl was surprised that he had found her so quickly, she didn't show it beyond a mischievous smile. It's not like Megumi has visited the site several times since Itadori mentioned how excited he was for the film, reading the synopsis and wandering through reviews of the previous films to find herself in the middle of the low-budget Hollywood mess. Of course he didn't do that. He just coincidentally had the site saved in his bookmarks bar.

“In an audience of thirty, twelve people gave a score equal to or above six.” He read it with a frown. Thirty people watched this? He expected a little less...

“Oh, that’s actually good!” Kugisaki praised, punctuating his words with a slap on Itadori's arm, which Megumi only escaped being hit by cowering closer to the wall. “Looks like your Worm Man movie isn’t that bad.”

“It’s a Human EarthWorm, Kugisaki.” Itadori whined, taking a pink rectangular box out of his – apparently inseparable – paper bag, with simple drawings of strawberries decorating the packaging.

“Oh, whatever.” Suddenly, the girl's chocolate brown eyes lit up in what Megumi could tell was pure ecstasy. He shrank further between Itadori and the wall. Somehow, that look was much more worrying than Kugisaki 's evil smile . “Oh, is that strawberry pocky ?! Give me one!” She jumped across the table, snatching the package from a very confused Itadori's hands, taking out one of the artificial strawberry flavored sticks. Her face was flushed with excitement. “Man, I was so excited to buy them! I've always wanted to try it ever since Saori mentioned the game, but my grandmother never let me. Something about 'being modest' or something.”

Kugisaki 's flawed and agitated logic . What did strawberry pockys have to do with games and her grandmother?

Beside him, Itadori laughed brightly as he pulled out a toothpick from the box, placing it between his lips like a cigarette.

“Ah, I know this game.”

"You?"

"It is clear!" The boy exclaimed, looking particularly offended by Kugisaki 's skeptical look . “I played this with my classmates in elementary school all the time. It was like a ritual throughout the party.”

Megumi is starting to feel uncomfortable with this conversation. Not that it was the first time he couldn't keep up with Itadori and Kugisaki 's energy and high spirits . Normally he would be content to just listen to the exchange and offer a shrug if asked about anything. Only this time, it really seems like these two are speaking another language.

As if he had read Megumi's thoughts, Kugisaki pointed the pocky at him, the broken tip over the separation between the strawberry topping and the chocolate rod.

“What about you, Fushiguro? Did you also play pocky when you were a delinquent ?”

“Can you not call me that?” He snapped, hoping he could hide his two friends' blushes behind his uniform collar. His times in elementary school beating up bullies weren't shameful after all, he never regretted it, but ever since Kugisaki and Itadori found out they both became insufferable about it. With a sharp frown due to the direction that strange conversation was taking, he questioned back: “And what the hell is this pocky game you guys are talking about?

Both Kugisaki and Itadori – after all, they were definitely sharing the same neuron before they even met – looked at each other in a silent conversation before gasping in surprise and dramatic scandal, with their hands on their chests like Victorian virgins and wide eyes. They learned that from Gojo , obviously.

“Fushiguro, how come you don’t know the pocky game?!” Itadori asked, loud enough to make Megumi's ears feel hot. “This is the most popular game among us normal teenagers.”

Normal teenagers? Megumi could retort against that.

“You, as a popular delinquent at school should know!” Kugisaki followed, nodding as if he couldn't believe what he heard, feigning Oscar-worthy desolation. "Deplorable. When I thought you were a little fun….”

With that, Megumi was one wrong word away from ripping off those damn pink pockys from Kugisaki and punching Itadori in the head to get that mocking smile out of him, but after noticing the looks of two eavesdropping couples, he was content with just crossing your arms over your chest and sulking. He's not going to give these two any more reasons to publicly embarrass him. That ridiculous scene of hugs and needy whining whenever he talks to some random girl is enough .

“Are you going to continue acting like children or are you going to explain to me what you’re talking about?”

If he noticed the bite and harshness in Megumi's tone, Itadori didn't show it. In fact, he boldly laughed as he rested his face in one hand, a chopstick between his fingers.

“It's just a silly joke. You put a pocky between your lips and try to eat it with small bites.”

Megumi waited longer – something really interesting and worth noting – but apparently Itadori had already finished the explanation, diverting his attention to the spinning movements he was making with the pocky between his fingers. Megumi wasn't the type to notice other people's abilities outside of battle, but there was a certain beauty in the way Itadori could handle the fragile stick without breaking it.

His attention was distracted by Kugisaki who was extending the pink box towards him.

“Live a little, big boy! Get one and try it.”

Something is wrong. A little voice in Megumi's mind whispered.

Kugisaki 's almost genuinely docile smile – and when it says 'almost', it means that Megumi doesn't believe in the softness of the girl in front of him at all –, or maybe it was Itadori himself sitting next to his with an amused and kind of curious, seeming really interested in his next move, which made the hairs on the back of Megumi's neck stand up like those of a skittish cat.

Something is very wrong.

Hesitant and perhaps too suspicious, Megumi took one of the pockys and placed it cautiously between his lips, feeling the sweetness of the glass on the tip of his tongue. The taste was predictably sweet and artificial. The strawberries were lost in the exaggerated amount of sugar, but the memory of them was still there, a note just for memory. Maybe it was a little greasy and easily too cloying for his taste, but it was a bearable sweet treat. It would hardly become his favorite snack, but the vanilla and dark chocolate cookies were delicious.

Kugaisaki 's smile grew, now revealing white teeth, cheeks pushed up.

That's when he realized his mistake.

Honestly, Megumi was waiting for something terrible to happen. He waited for the taste of pepper, or Kugisaki 's loud laugh as she revealed that there was no game of pocky , that she only invented it to see Megumi eat the sweet stick like a rabbit devouring a carrot. Anything like that. However, he was caught off guard by Itadori's palm manipulating the back of his neck so that he was looking at his face from just a few centimeters away.

The dirty glassy lips opened to bite the other end of the pocky , inching just a millimeter towards Megumi's own lips. It was a very close call that their noses didn't touch, but Megumi could still feel the ghost of Itadori's breath mixing with his own, even hear the clicking sound as the boy's teeth closed the distance and devoured the toothpick between them. Two more bites and Itadori would touch his lips. One more and then Megumi would taste the taste of strawberry glass directly from Itadori's sugary lips.

The world seemed to catch fire around them.

Maybe it was, because when Megumi jumped back, his mouth open in shock and shame, his entire face seemed to have been licked by flames, putting embers in his ears. Even though there was now quite a distance between Itadori and him, the vivid memory of honey-colored eyes sparkling with amusement and flirtation still echoed in Megumi's vision, painting his face the same shade as the strawberries drawn on the pocky box . His heart beat wildly inside his chest and cold sweat ran down his back.

What the fuck was that?

As if that wasn't enough, Megumi's breath caught as he watched Itadori, who hadn't looked away from him, finish the pocky , greedily devouring the part where Megumi's lips, teeth and tongue had touched. The pink-haired boy finished by wiping his lips with his thumb. He had a satisfied smile.

“Mm…” Itadori hummed. “Looks like I won.”

“Huh , what?” Megumi stammered uselessly, having a faint awareness of how pathetic he looked with his face red and his mouth open like a fish out of water. Damn Yuji Itadori !

A click and a flash were what took him out of that limbo.

"There is! Just look at your face!” Kugisaki cackled, turning the phone screen to Megumi. In the small illuminated rectangle was displayed for all to see the red, pathetic mess he had become, a reflection of his state of mind. Humiliating. “I'm going to send this to Maki-san ! Let’s put it in our graduation video!” Before Megumi could give any response to that – what, he doesn't know, but he would think of something at the moment – Kugisaki slammed both hands on the table and stood up. “It’s our time! If we don't want to miss the worm man movie...”

“Human EarthWorm, Kugisaki !”

“Alright, you crazy fanboy , let’s go!”

Megumi barely registered what was happening. He couldn't have imagined what had just happened. Or can you? He was so tired after that mission and being dragged by Kugisaki to meet that girl – Ozawa I-don't-know-what – who could very well have hallucinated with Itadori's face so close to his, their noses almost touching, their lips mere centimeters away?

Maybe Megumi should go home.

Take a long nap and think about anything other than the way Itadori's lips look shiny with glass . Would it taste as sweet as it looked?

Then, as the world hated Megumi and his entire family generation, the said boy with strawberry pocky hair and bright smile, turned to him with the most delighted and amused expression he had ever seen. Much happier than any memory that a past crush could generate – not that Megumi was being petty about it.

“Aren’t you coming, Fushiguro?”

Oh yes. They were going to see a movie.

Megumi needed to get his head on track.

“ Su-sure .” He stuttered, hoping that his quick movement in standing up had hidden his still red face.

It didn't work, as Kugisaki elbowed him, his feline smile even wider.

“ Wow . You didn't really know the game. She looks like a schoolgirl.”

“Shut up, Kugisaki .”

The response he received was just a loud laugh before she went off to buy popcorn, probably intimidating the attendant looking for a discount on the themed buckets .

As soon as Kugisaki was out of earshot, Itadori leaned into Megumi's space, his voice low and warm near his shoulder, while his caramel-colored eyes still continued to stare at him with amusement.

“You don’t need to be shy, Fushiguro.”

“I’m not shy.” Megumi retorted, perhaps too quickly and defensively.

That's when Itadori let out a bright laugh that certainly didn't make his heart skip a few beats.

Of course!

It's just the heart attack taking him early.

“Ah, fuck .” He grumbled, turning towards the exit.

That was it. Megumi was leaving.

Fuck Yuji with his movie and Nobara with the pockys .

“ Hey ! Wait!"

Itadori grabbed Megumi's wrist, his grip firm yet surprisingly gentle.

The pink boy looked genuinely sorry as Megumi looked at him, his tanned face contorting into a kicked-puppy expression that would have been adorable, if Megumi hadn't been fuming with embarrassment, anger, and distrust.

Nothing good came when Itadori looked at him like that.

As if noticing Megumi's emotions, Itadori smiled tenderly.

“Sorry about that. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“You didn’t do a good job.”

“Okay, I think I deserve this.” Itadori scratched the back of his head, before his countenance radiated with a dangerous glow. “Hey! If you want, I can teach you how to play later. That way you don’t have to run away like a scared cat every time you play.”

“Do you want to get punched, Itadori?” Megumi huffs, impatience beginning to throb. He pulls his wrist from Itadori's grip, who wisely steps back with his hands raised defensively. “I will not participate in your silly games with Kugisaki. Forget it."

"Okay, okay. It was just an idea.” Itadori hummed, crossing his arms over his head. His gaze didn't leave Megumi's face for a second as he added, more carefully: "But, if you want, the invitation is extended."

Megumi sneered.

Why would he accept this invitation? He didn't mind Kugisaki and Itadori's childish pranks as long as they didn't harm him. Playing pocky will be no different. Plus, it's not like they have many parties to go to or opportunities to play these types of games. It wouldn't make any difference. Kugisaki and Itadori can stay with their games while Megumi stays with his books, completely at peace, without thinking about how Itadori's lips looked unbearably seductive when tilted towards him, nose almost touching his, brown eyes burning with a different fervor. and totally chilling. No, he wasn't thinking about that, much less about how easy it was for Itadori to handle him easily, firm despite the tenderness of the touch, his calloused palm holding Megumi's neck as their faces got closer and their breaths mixed.

No, Megumi definitely wasn't thinking about that.

In fact, he was starting to find Itadori's worm man poster very interesting, completely forgetting that brief moment when Itadori wiped his lip, insatiated after devouring the indirect kiss with the taste of strawberry pocky .

Yes, he totally forgot about that...

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donutloverxo · 3 years

Text

NSFW alphabet | Chris Evans

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Note - This is written just for fun. I don't know Chris or what he likes lol. I also don't own the alphabet format.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Warnings - rpf, smut, daddy kink, d/s relationship, dom Chris, anal stuff, semi public sex, spanking, sex toys, praise kink.

Word count - 2.5k

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

Chris is clingy as fuck after sex. He’ll hold you close to his heart (you being the lil spoon of course) and not let go the entire night. With soft kisses on your face, hair and on any bruises he might have left on you. With some pillow talk about how his love for you can overwhelm him sometimes, that he can’t imagine not having you not that he gets to have a taste of you almost every night. Sometimes he likes to listen to you talk about your day, or share a deep secret you hadn’t told anyone else.

His clinginess is something you adore. Something which you would usually be fine with, how he just could not keep his hands off of you, but when you’re somewhere tropical and hot it becomes a bit of a problem.

You were visiting him while he was filming for red Sea diving resort, after seeing him in the beard and the longer hair you couldn’t help yourself and you just jumped on him. After some hot and sweaty sex, you had moved away from him a little, with your back to him you wiped the sheen off of your forehead with the back of your hand, trying to fan yourself with your own hand, ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he had growled. Not wanting even an inch of distance between the two of you. You tried to protest because you needed to cool off but eventually gave in.

B=Body Part (Their favorite body part)

Everyone knows the answer to this. He likes your ass the most. It doesn’t matter if it’s a flat ass or a thick one he’ll love it the same because it’s a part of you. He likes to smack it, he likes looking at it, he may even like to fuck it. Some stretch marks would just be the cherry on top.

His next favorite would have to be your hips. He loves to see their silhouette through your yoga pants or jeans, or even a dress. After a night of some rough fucking they usually bear his handprints which he loves obviously because it’s almost like he branded you as his own.

C=Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I’m a disgusting person)

It’s always a battle with the two of you when it comes to cumming. Because Chris likes to see your body covered in his seed, particularly your face, ass and breasts, and you like to have him do it inside you, be it your pussy or your mouth.

Which he doesn’t mind obviously, he likes the idea of his spend being in your tummy, but he also likes taking pictures of your ass covered with his spunk. You just look so pretty when he comes on your face🥺

D=Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory)

Chris has fucked you in more bathrooms than you can remember. It’s become a thing or almost a ritual now. Whenever he takes you to an event or a party, or just a casual dinner at his family or friends house, you’ll end up on your knees in the bathroom with his dick in your mouth, or he’ll worship you and eat you out till you literally can’t even walk straight.

It started when you accompanied him to an important event, he was extremely anxious. And you felt helpless because you didn’t know how to make him feel better. But you did know one thing that always lifts his mood up. So you dragged him to the men’s room and sucked him off. He was much relaxed the rest for the evening thanks to you.

E= Experience (How experienced are they?)

VERY. He’s extremely experienced. He has a lot of knowledge and puts it to good use on you. Which can be a little daunting if you’re more on the inexperienced side but don’t ne afraid. He’ll train you really well, you just have to be a good girl and listen.

F= Favorite Position

His favorite position would be doggy style. Where he’s doing from behind, with you on your hands and knees, or with your head down and ass perched up to him because you never can stay up right when he’s doing you so well. He has full access to your ass, if you’re okay with it he would use his fingers on you, spank your ass. He loves to grab your hips or your ass and your breasts.

He’s also a huge fan of missionary. Because he can’t see your pretty face, or look into your eyes from behind. Most days he wants intimacy and to show you how much he loves you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

Depends on his mood. Sometimes he’s a bit goofy, like talking in a comically exaggerated Boston accent when you told him you liked the sound of his voice and how his accent becomes more prominent when he is horny.

But most of the times, he’s in control. He has to maintain some composure so you wouldn’t question who’s really in charge or think that you could get away with anything. Because you know how to make him laugh, and if he let’s you do that he couldn’t keep a straight face while punishing you.

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

Chris has dark Brown pubic hair, like that of his beard and the hair on his head.

Does anyone remember that term ‘manscaping'? Where dudes trim their pubic hair to make their dicks look bigger. Chris definitely does that. Although he doesn’t need to because like if he got any bigger he might split you in two.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Doesn’t matter if you’re making love, or fucking hard it will always be intimate and loving with Chris in one way or another.

If you feel needy, and like you want him to show you how much he loves you, you just have to sit on his lap, bat your lashes at him, show him your puppy eyes, and hump his leg a little. He’d get the sign and take you to bed, slowly dragging his cock in and out of you, drawing it out for the both of you, his fingers laced with yours, pinned above your head. He’d feast on your breasts and nipples the whole time just so you could feel his love and need for days.

If you’re feeling particularly frisky, or in a mood to piss him off just so he could be rough with you without you having to ask, you can just give him attitude or roll your eyes a lot. He’ll spank your ass raw, or edge you for hours, or make you climax till it literally hurts, depends on his mood really, to teach you some manners. But since you like the punishment you never learn.

Even while he’s got you over his knee, you not wearing anything but the diamond necklace he gave you, your cheeks wet from crying for the past fifteen minutes, your ass on fire but you still had to take more from him. He tsked, reprimanding you for ruining his expensive dress pants with your slick, playing with your intimate lips, he’d say while stroking your head, “It’s okay, baby, daddy still loves you. Even when you get on my nerves.”

Even while fucking you like he hated you, he made you felt loved and as if you were the most precious person in the world.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

When you started dating, Chris would often masturbate to the thought of you. But when you started sleeping together he never felt the need to, and you asked him not to do it anymore because you didn’t want him wasting his cummies.

Which might’ve been a huge mistake in hindsight because you revealed a weakness of yours. Now when he REALLY wants to punish you, he’d just tie you up jerk off his cock right before your eyes, “See this, sweetheart? I could be fucking your sweet pussy right now, and making you feel good too, but you had go and be a bad girl.” He’d come all over your face or breasts, and would of course make you come too if he feels you’ve learned your lesson.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Chris has a huge daddy kink. He doesn’t just like the title, he likes everything that comes along with it.

He likes that he has to take care of you, in and outside if the bedroom, being a daddy is a 24/7 job, he has to be considerate to you and grateful for all the trust and love you give him.

He also really likes pinning you down. Whether it be during play wrestling or during sex, it makes him feel strong, and it drives you crazy, absolutely feral for him.

L=Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Yeah you’ve had your share of sneaking off to do it during events but his favorite place to do it would be in the privacy of his own home, preferably his bed so that your dog won’t walk in on you.

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

If you simply say, “Screw me.” That would probably be more than enough to turn him on and fulfil your request.

But what grinds his gears is seeing you in tight clothing, or the kind of clothes that would show off your assets. If you’re a good mom to dodger, if you show an interest in the things he likes or do anything that would make his heart flutter and make him fall more in love with you.

N= NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never have proper public sex because that would probably interfere with his public image and work. Other than that he’s pretty open to most things.

He also wouldn’t like to invite anyone else to your bedroom or to share you. It is a nice fantasy for him but way too risky.

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

He likes both giving and receiving equally. He likes having you on your back where he can see your face while he explores your intimate walls with his tongue, but he also likes to have you ride his face. You were apprehensive to at first, but with some convincing you agreed.

Sixtynine is another one of his favorites. He never actually had to ask for it. You were sitting on his face, holding onto his stomach and screaming when you felt your orgasm approaching, he pushed your head just a little, you got the hint, and started working on his cock, which was painfully hard.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

It would usually depend on what kinda day it is and how you’re both feeling. But most of the time he is usually slow but at the same time rough. Where his thrusts are drawn out but also impactful.

Q= Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Chris loves quickies. Bending you over the kitchen counter, a quick session in the afternoon on the couch when things got a little too heated while cuddling, in his trailor while he’s on a break, in the shower where he can make you dirty before cleaning you up. You made it.

But he wouldn’t prefer them over proper sex ever. Usually he likes to take his time with you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

He’s game to experiment to a certain extent. Even if he’s skeptical about something he’d keep an open mind and give it a shot for you.

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

He’s a fit and motivated man so he can last for a long time and go for many rounds. It’s more likely for you to be tired and tapped out than for him.

If it was a long day on set, and if he’s a little exhausted then he may not be able to go more than once. But will make up for it when he can.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

You both own a variety of butt plugs and vibrators, silky ties, blindfolds, handcuffs that Chris likes to use on you. You even bought a ball gag asking him to put it on you, which was the only time you ever used it because Chris liked to hear your voice and for you to call him daddy or say his name. You couldn’t do it with your mouth full.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Chris teases you a lot, but he would be a MASSIVE tease if he was a little more patient. He knows the effect he has on you. How you can’t take your eyes off him when he wears a t-shirt that’s a bit too tight and shows off his arms, how you can’t help but grab his butt sometimes and feel him up. When you bite your lip or look away when he catches you staring. If you get caught, be prepared because he will only do it more just to egg you on.

His touches a bit too light, he’d bring you to the edge and leave you just there. But fortunately it won’t last long because usually he’s the one who ends up getting riled up.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s loud alright. And he isn’t ashamed of it. He would never try to hide how good you make him feel, or miss an opportunity to call you a good girl and praise your gorgeous body. There will be lots of grunting and groaning and moaning and you revel in every second of it.

X = X-Ray (Let s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s pretty big. Much bigger than average. He looked pretty average when he wasn’t hard, you let that fool you into thinking you could take him pretty easily, he wasn’t that much bigger than anyone else you’d had sex with right?

Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you saw him hard, his dick hard and thick and a blush pink, two thick running on the sides of it.

He assured you that he would make it fit and that you had nothing to be worried about.

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

It’s pretty high. Higher than most people at least. You call him your horndog, but like in a nice way, because he always wants it. Even if you spent an entire night screaming his name and being used and stretched in ways that made your pussy as well as your body sore, he would still ask for more the very next morning. He’d respect you if you say no and back off immediately but he’s up for it whenever you want.

ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If he has things on his mind, and if you fall asleep sooner than usual then he’d be up a while. But most of the times he falls asleep quickly after.

#chris evans x reader #chris evans alphabet #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #steve rogers x reader #chris evans headcanons

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demonologistfucker · 3 years

Text

In Love with an Artist💛✨

Obey me! Boys x gn! Mc who is a professional artist. I try to be vague about what sort of art you make so that anyone can fit in. As well as what your goals are as a professional artist. This could be someone who just posts art online, does commissions, whatever. I put in some gallery shows cuz those are fun to think about.

this is SFW Fluff💛 rest of the brothers under the cut

Lucifer

- he saw on your file that you did art, but wasn’t really thinking too much about it. Though when you arrived to your dorm you were greeted with a set of art supplies. A nice sketchbook, a couple pencils and pens. As well as rather high end paint set and brushes. He will never bring it up.

- if you do art out where others can see he’ll try to get a look as what you do, but if you’re private about it he would be respectful. Lucifer doesn’t enjoy when people step over his boundaries, and wouldn’t want to do that he you. He knows enough about artists to understand that ones work is personal.

- when he does get to see what you make he will be internally blown away, but outwardly just ask questions about your process. Trying to figure out if there is symbolism you are drawn to, or what you were trying to capture. There is always a little more to art than just the subject.

- if you want to continue being a professional artist in the Devildom he would be a great support. Would give you advice on who to contact and what venues would be best for your work. He seems to have had the information all prepared. He wouldn’t flex his power too much because he wants this to be your own effort, but is happy to help if you want it.

- At shows he’s a an easy presence besides you. Though he likes to be admired. he knows when to step back at let you shine. If nerves catch your tongue or the social work becomes to much. Lucifer will step in with smooth answers. He knows your work backwards and forwards. So can easily answer any question a patron might have.

Mammon

- “oh you should draw me!” It’s up to you if you actually do, but that’s one of the first things out of his mouth when he learns you do art. He does have a pretty face, and would make a good life model....

- Doesn’t verbalize that he thinks your art is cool, but he does want to see every little thing you make. Finds even your doodles to be mesmerizing. So if you’re do art while he’s around be prepared for him leaning over your shoulder to get a good look.

- If you’re trying to make money off of your art Mammon is extremely helpful. his sway over people’s spending could magically get people to be interested in you, but he’s also just good at setting prices. He will not stand for you setting your prices too low, and will come after people who try to skip out on paying.

- Will try to get your art hung up in every establishment he has a connection too. Not every place will be your vibe though so you get to choose where your art actually ends up.

- Though his room style is more modern minimalism. He has several of your pieces framed around his room. A couple you were sure had been sold...

Leviathan

- as a proud otaku he knows how to treat artists right 👏🏻👏🏻 if he wants you to draw something for him he’s gunna tip out of his ass. Leviathan has definitely worked with artists before. Commissioning cosplay, or fanart, and each time he tips outrageously. So be prepared for what he might do to try and impress you.

- Initially gets a little over eager with the commissions, but is able to figure out that.. you might want to do some art just for fun. Or enjoy other things too. Talk to him and he’ll relax. He just wants to support your beautiful art!

- really loves it when you show him what your working on. Especially when you show sketches or work in progresses. It makes him feel really special to see the unfinished product. Being trusted with your genuine ideas and imperfect thoughts means a lot to him.

- if your art is story based at all. He will want to hear All about it. Might say it reminds him of anime’s he’s watched but he means that as the highest compliment. Your idea are just as good as his beloved shows. Your ideas might even be better because he gets to love the person who made them.

- If you have an art show... He will leave his room for you. He will look so dashing, but so uncomfortable. There with you as long as you need him, but if you are fine on your own he might hang out in a corner. Or go home early.

-When you get home he will make it up to you✨

Satan

- He isn’t going to push you to show off your art if you don’t want too. Even if you are drawing in the same room as him. He just can’t see himself being able to interrupt you. Your focused expression is delightful. Though curiosity will eventually get the better of him if you don’t show him yourself.

- Once you do he is captivated. His face is still calm and collected. Expect for his eyes which are wide and sparkling. If you let him he’ll spend a full hour looking at just one of your pieces. Satan will try to spot every little detail, and see how it all comes together. Both as a reflection of what your are trying to capture but also you. What he see’s only makes him more captivated.

- Asks good questions about what you’re working on, as well as complimenting by comparing to other artists in the realms. You had no idea what he meant when he said your worked reminded him of the great Venia the Dark Slayer. So he showed you his books on Devildom artists. You were surprised that Venia the Dark Slayer really did have something in common with your work. Weirdly enough. He also has sections for earth and the celestial realm artists. You are more then welcome to look through them whenever you like.

- When you’re not around he talks about your art a lot. Always so proud of the latest piece he saw you working on. Satan conveniently forgets that some of his friends are gallery owners. He won’t sign you up for any shows without your informed consent, but he definitely help you get shows much easier.

- Whether he helps you get the show or not. He wants to help set up. His eye for detail makes hanging all the frames easier, as well as making good labels for the work. Whenever you can’t come up with a name for a piece. he’s pretty good at coming up with something clever.

Asmodeus

- Also going to lean over your shoulder to see what you’re making. Then is absolutely captivated by what you’re able to make.

- ART DAY! Asmo wants to be creative with you as much as you’re willing for. So you’ll both take up a table and have your art supplies shared in the middle. Asmo is planning his never dress design, or possibly a make up look he’d want to try. Stops to talks to you a lot. Wanders the room and ends up against you to peak at what you’re working on again.

- He’ll ask for your opinion on his outfits and make up, as well as any other creative project they’ve gotten involved with. See’s you as a creative equal.

- Thinks everything you made is brilliant, but also gives good constructive criticism when you want it.

- When you get your first Devildom Galley. It’s going to be the biggest event that whole week. Asmo will not stand for anyone not going to this wonderful event. Takes over most of the party planning. Which makes you worried it’s going to be a big flirty party with Asmo at the center of attention. When you get there it is beautiful. Asmo has decorated the place to fit the theme or your art. There is catering and drinks. All of which again are themed to your art or just your favorite foods.

- He’s so proud of you of course he had to make this event special.

Beelzebub

- :OOOO

- Really blown away by what you’re capable off. Asks you to send him photos as you work on pieces. Very quietly supportive. When you do art with him around he feels so happy. There will be a small smile on his face the whole time. Which breaks out into a beam whenever you show him what you’re working on.

- If you need a life model👀👀👀 Beel wouldn’t mind posing for you.

- Very used to you coming up and asking him to hold something, or do something with his hands. So that you can reference it. Either holds the pose or asks you to take a picture if busy.

- Commissions you to do art for his brother’s birthdays. Not only does he get to support your work, but he knows his brothers will be thrilled to have one of your pieces.

- If you give him any art it will be treasured till the end of time. Neatly framed and kept somewhere he can see everyday.

- Makes sure you stretch before and after doing arts. Making art requires a lot of fine motor skills that can put serious strain on your body. It’s important to take breaks and stretch.

Belphegor

- His face makes a good desk when he falls asleep on your lap

- Might want to do art with you from time to time. He’s got a lot of thoughts in that brain and getting them out on paper feels really nice. If he can’t come up with something to make. he still gets to watch you make art which is always nice.

- Wants to know the meaning behind your artwork. Even if he doesn’t particularly like an art piece. He wants to know what it meant to you, and its importance. Or lack there of. Some art is just shits and giggles. Belphegor just wants to know the intent of what you’re doing.

- Has never gone to a gallery before, but for you?? He will be there on time. Hair brushed, face washed, and freshly shaved. Maybe even wearing a suit.

- “How many commissions have you been doing? no get your ass to bed.”

- Very good at reminding you to take breaks. Or getting in your way so much you can’t work and Have to rest.

#this is my first time doing something like this aaa #Obey me!#Obey me! Headcanons #Obey me! gn mc #Obey me! Lucifer #Obey me! Leviathan #Obey me! Mammon #Obey me! Satan #Obey me! Asmodeous #Obey me! Beelzebub #Obey me! belphegor #artist mc #headcanons #demon brothers

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visit-ba-sing-se · 4 years

Note

For another friendship we never really got: Iroh and Bumi

This is great and I mean even though we never see it in canon it definitely could be (since they are both members of the white lotus after all). Thank you (and the other anon who asked about this) for giving me a reason to shout into the void here about them:

First of all and looking back, Iroh was waging war against the earth kingdom and wanted to burn their capital to the ground (literally writes so in a letter to Ursa.) So, after he recognized his mistakes and became a member of the white lotus (because him being part of that organization during his siege on Ba Sing Se would just not make sense, and I do not think canon gives us any information on that) he probably did not know much about earth benders except for how to fight them. But he now wanted to reconcile and learn, and Bumi was there to share. Of course, he was a bit skeptical at first and used the chance to mess with Iroh (”Yes, it is costume to drink boiling mud water in the earth kingdom, I can’t believe you were so busy conquering that you did not even notice“). However, he grew more and more fond of him the he realized that Iroh was serious on wanting to learn and had an equally off sense of humor

What would then make them an amazing duo is that they are both such out of the box thinkers. One one hand, we have Bumi, whose tag line is to move and act like a mad genius. When it come to his bending, we see that the moves he uses partly seem to be Airbender inspired (like his spiral upward), and we see him using bone bending during the battle over Ba Sing Se, which is a completely new sub-style of earth bending (and I would say that it is safe to assume he also developed that himself)

On the other hand, we have Iroh, who always emphasizes how important it is to draw inspiration from many sources. The most prominent example of how he puts his own wisdom to use his learned how to redirect lightning from studying water benders.

Those two definitely would enjoy discovering new techniques together by learning form each other and studying each others styles (also yes, they went on a trip together to learn lava bending. Also yes, both of their beards got slightly burned but what a small piece to pay fro greatness. „I wanted to cut it anyway, nephew, did you not hear that this is now the latest fashion in Ba Sing Se?“ „Uncle, it is the lasted fashion in the earth kingdom because Bumi made his whole stuff water it like that after you to returned. And no, we will not be enforcing the same thing here“)

Also, they both have a thing for teaching even though their method might be a bit different. The whole point behind the challenges Bumi gave Aang was to teach him to thing creatively, and Iroh always put great effort into teaching Zuko basically anything. So they would love passing those techniques on

Beyond that, they would totally make use of the fact that they look like to respectable old men to fool with people and enjoy their surprised faces when they wreck absolut havoc (one of them pretend to be a fragile old king just to reveal being totally ripped and wanting to wrestle with the Avatar, the other dramatically took a sip of tea before taking out a bunch of day li with his breath of fire. Don’t tell me they do not have the same energy, and also do not tell me there is not a lot of potential)

Tbh I believe they actually would wreck havoc a lot. I know that is a common perception of Iroh that he is a very wise and thoughtful man, but as @nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice put in an amazing post, we really should not overestimate his impulse control. Keep in mind, this man used a poisonous plant to make tea just because it could have been delicious while being completely aware of the risk)

On the other hand, this of course does not mean that they can not come up with wise and serious solutions when needed. I believe they would each also value the other council a lot

Finally, the would always play pai sho together but of course try to cheat the other. (Bumi earth bends the pieces when Iroh looks ways for moment. Little does he know the reason Iroh looked away was to make sure that Toph, who he had promised to teach lava beding in exchange for a little support, is still at her spot)

#bumi #iroh #toph #avatar #zuko #atla #atla hc #anon love #i feel like i should get a tag for all those friendship posts #also this could be canon honestly #I am just filling the balnks #friendships that transcendent canon #<- tag for more friendships that should have been

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inforapound · 3 years

Text

The Devil Inside - Part 1

This was written to celebrate @fuchsiagrasshopper 200 followers. Congrats to you. This is not high literature, just a tiny-bop reader insert style romance.

Warnings - sexually explicit, hints of dub/con, possessiveness, love

Pairing - Ivar x Reader Prompt in bold.

There they were. The same unimpressed brilliant blue eyes. It was the second time that week you had seen them in the back parking lot at school.

The student car park was behind the main building where all those who either drove or smoked cigarettes congregated at lunch to sit in their cars, pump music, and yak. You didn’t smoke but had a car so hung out all the same. Students from neighbouring schools occasionally pulled in to visit, always staying in their cars and keeping a distance as these types of schools were full of rules and someone was always watching. That is where he fits it. The dark-haired guy with the cold eyes and the nice flat-black Camaro. Whether or not he was putting on airs, he looked dubious and the kids always hanging about his car were the shadier bunch in the school.

He had been coming around for a couple of months now and you had locked eyes with him once or twice. Maybe more. He always broke the contact first as if looking at you had been in error. Probably dealt drugs or something similar but honestly, you didn’t know. What you did know, with your sharp eighteen-year-old senses, was to keep to your side of the lot. Maintaining your flawless grades was your first priority with socializing a not to distant second. Plus, you had been single for less than six weeks so boys were not exactly a draw.

So… you thought nothing of it when Mark Hasting approached your locker when the end-of-the-day bell rang. Standing with your closest friends, Kim and Amanda, you were deciding on whose house to meet at after supper. Mark was one of those smoking-out-back-leather-jacket-wearing types but he was friendly with everyone so it wasn’t that out of the blue for him to stop by your locker and chat.

“What’s up ladies,” he smiled, looking rather fit for a guy who had never played sports. “Any plans tonight?”

Kim carried on loading her binders into her locker and Amanda gave a breezy ‘not sure’ shrug so you spoke up as Mark was a nice guy.

“Might meet up with some of the others at the beach by my place after dark. What are you up to?”

“Me and some of the guys are going to meet behind Macdonald’s at 9 pm. Go from there. Some boys from Claremont are coming. You should join?”

“Clairemont, eh?”

It was the other private school in the district, prestigious like yours but with the reputation for being wild. Amanda’s brother had transferred there a few years back for their higher-profile basketball program and she had bitched that her parents were playing favourites ever since.

“Yeah, okay, maybe,” you answered not sounding convinced.

“You gonna be driving?” he asked which surprised you as you were the only one with a car. Kim had one that she supposedly shared with her brother but you had maybe seen her with it twice.

“Well, I won’t be getting a driver’s license in the next 6 hours,” Amanda laughed.

“Fair enough,” Mark smiled. “So maybe see you there?”

Hmm. That was interesting and you wondered if Mark or one of the other outbackers were interested in one of your friends. The crowd you ran with were the popular sort; the academics, preps, and jocks. Not the smokers who hit the bong on the weekends but at your school the cliques mixed well. Unlikely hookups weren’t that out of the ordinary but you certainly weren't interested. Hell no.

----

The evening air was a bit sharp so you were glad you wore your white denim coat and blue jeans. It was nearly dark and you were with a group of eight or ten of your friends standing between parked cars at the playground not far from your school. The closest street lamp was out so the only light came from the radios playing in the cars lined up in a row. The music was just loud enough to hear but not grab the attention of the tidy homes across the street.

If you were being honest, you were bored and the night was shaping up to look like the previous few weekends. Deciding to have a drink, you grabbed a cider from the full box in your trunk, passing your keys and responsibility over to Kim. ‘No problem’ was her reply that came in the form of a quick nod. You had been driving her around for years so she didn’t mind.

The headlights of two vehicles rolling past and pulling in made you all turn and look and you immediately recognized both. It was Mark’s white van and the low-slung Camaro tailing close behind. Blue eyes was in there. He had to be and it wasn’t immediately apparent but you had some reaction, nerves maybe or just feeling a bit on the spot for brushing off Mark’s earlier invitation.

“Guess nothing was happening at Macdonald’s,” Kim laughed.

“Shocking,” Amanda added sarcastically, taking a drag of her cigarette and blowing the smoke in the opposite direction.

“Cause hanging out beside the jungle gym is so much cooler,” you droned, squinting at the now parked cars, noticing that the Camaro looked full of people.

Not letting your sights linger, you turned back to your friends, taking a few long pulls of your drink, and heard car doors open and close. The sound of footsteps crunching over gravel came towards you.

“It’s Amanda, right?” a girl’s voice called and in unison, you all spun around.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Amanda answered, in her overly cheerful voice.

Before you was a tall blonde girl, a little older than you with very distinct features; a small narrow nose and the largest eyes you had ever seen.

“I graduated with Lani last year at Claremont,” she explained.

Lani was Amanda’s older brother, a year and half older, popular but a total prick unless he needed something.

“I’m Torvi,” she smiled and you all nodded your hellos.

“Hey, we are headed to my boyfriend’s if you want to come? Have some drinks. Can’t blow the doors wide but you girls are welcome to come.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” Kim and Amanda’s mixed replies came at the same time.

Knowing the plan was set, you took a few more drinks of your cider, finishing it off, wondering who exactly was in that car.

The tall blonde turned and began to head back but stopped and looked in your direction.

“You’re not driving, I take it?” she glanced at the empty you were returning to the box in your open trunk.

“For once, no,” you replied quietly.

“Ride with us,” she jerked her head in the direction of the Camaro. “The girls can follow,” she smiled and you felt caught-off-guard.

“That’s okay,” you smiled back. “We’ll see you there.”

“No,” her smile widened and she took a step closer, offering her arm for you to link up. “I insist.”

The Camaro was nice. Really nice. Classic with a black leather interior. It had the faintest smell of cigarettes, beer, and leather. A total guy car and not the BMW SUV’s you were used to. You like it far more than those. But the atmosphere was anything but nice. For you at least. A tall, rather serious guy had opened the door, folding the seat forward for you and Torvi to climb in. Her boyfriend, you assumed, by the way he smacked her ass when she slid past.

Mr. Blue-Eyes was the driver and when you settled back in the seat, you realized those nerves earlier had nothing to do with running into Mark. It was him. As your mom would say, ‘trouble with a capital T’ and being that close to him made you feel.....funny.

The ride was quick and the house you were heading to turned out to be only a few minutes away but it felt like a different neighborhood. They were mansions; the original estates in the area before it was all chopped up into lots and sold. The gates on the driveway were open and you drove up a long driveway to a beautiful Tudor style home set well back from the road. It looked about 10,000 square feet from the driveway and if it hadn’t have been for those cold blue eyes glancing up at you in the rearview mirror, you would have turned around to make sure your friends were still following.

Inside the house was equally as amazing; soaring ceilings and a gracious front entry, an incredible kitchen with a large family room off to one side. You settled with Torvi on a large leather couch and from where you were sitting, you saw that the French doors on the other side of the pool table led out to a massive back-lit pool. Homes like this weren’t that uncommon in your world but you still appreciated its elegance.

There wasn’t a parent in sight and no mention of one which struck you as normal. It was always the wealthy and unsupervised doing the most scandalous things. But no one there was doing anything scandalous. You were just there for drinks. Right?

Torvi handed you some type of boozy beverage and you were unsure as to why, yet relieved, that she had taken you under her wing.

Entering the room and walking with the help of some customized crutch, the Camaro driver headed straight for the leather chair on the far side of Torvi. He didn’t make eye contact with you or anyone else but you still felt noticed. The way he hustled made you think that you shouldn’t watch and you wondered if that crutch was the reason he always stayed in his car at school.

Dropping it onto the hardwood floor, he sank into the seat, immediately raising his hand and accepting a bottle from Torvi’s boyfriend who walked in behind, carrying a case of beer.

“I haven't introduced you,” Torvi raised her hand. “This is my boyfriend, Ubbe, and his brother Ivar,” your eyes flitted over to your driver but he was gazing at something, nothing, off in the kitchen. “And their other brother, Hvitserk is just outside having a smoke with his girlfriend, Margrethe.

Your eyes shifted to the French doors and you could see the outlines of two people kissing on the patio.

Okay, realization struck you. They were the Lothbroks! You had heard of them. Definitely. Just couldn’t recall what but you knew it wasn’t good and you probably shouldn’t be there. Where were your friends and why hadn’t Torvi told them your name? As if on cue, Amanda and Kim and the long-lost Mark Hasting strolled in, cheerful and boisterous and thankfully taking the pressure off you from having to talk.

Someone had turned on music and the other brother and his blonde-haired girlfriend came inside to join. A game of pool begun and you stayed on the couch with your friends and Torvi. Ivar remained slumped in his chair, giving the impression he would have preferred to be anywhere but there.

It was awkward. Torvi and your friends gabbed about the differences in schools and universities and you quietly finished your drink but, in a flash, it was replaced with another.

As always Mark was the most animated in the room, and Ubbe, who then seemed far more at ease, was listening intently to the details of how Mark’s father made so much money selling appliances. Kim was a good sport despite not drinking and joined in the conversation knowing many of the same people as Torvi.

You could have sworn Ivar scoffed when you rolled your eyes at Amanda who went outside to smoke weed with Mark and Hvitserk but when you glanced over, he was back to staring in the opposite direction and picking the label off his beer. It felt strange….. sitting in a room with lively people and you and he were the only ones not joining in. You weren’t anti-social but for whatever reason that night, or in that house, the atmosphere felt… heavy. It wasn’t the alcohol though; you were almost sure it was him. Ivar. Every bit of your focus seemed to be spent on ignoring him and for some strange reason, you felt he was doing the same.

“Whereabouts is the washroom?” you whispered to Torvi and she raised her hand to point down the hall.

“It's just down the...”

“I need another beer,” Ivar interrupted, his voice so much different than what you expected. It was smoother somehow, breathier. “I’ll show her,” his eyes flicked over to you as he grabbed his crutch and pushed himself up out of the chair.

Your instincts from before seemed right as his body language told you he did not enjoy people walking behind him. He moved with a distinct limp but it was still agile in a way, his crutch obviously an extension of his body. But his mood seemed troubled.

Christ, you thought, as you followed, he could have just told you where it was.

Through the kitchen, he moved down a long hallway lined with closed doors and you were almost certain one of them had to have been a bathroom. Just as your feet slowed assessing where you were going, he glanced back and jerked his head for you to keep moving. Ohh-kay……

Opening the door at the very end, he walked in, not looking behind. Stopping on the threshold you surveyed the room and there was no question it was his. It had the same dark wood floors and wood trim, a neatly made bed with navy linens, large windows, fitted with wooden blinds, bordered by matching navy curtains. The room was lined with furniture; a dresser, desk, shelves loaded with books but it was the framed picture hanging above his bed that held your attention. Behind glass was a charcoal drawing of a scraggly, long-haired, bearded man who seemed to be missing an eye. Nice room, you thought, but the art was a touch dramatic.

As he dropped down onto a couch and stretched his legs out onto a low coffee table, he pointed at an open door which you assumed was his private bathroom. Ohh-kay…. you thought as you tiptoed past him and into the bathroom, closing the door. Again, it struck you how clean everything was, even smelt good like some faint cologne and you hoped the thick wood door with muffle the sound of you peeing.

After washing your hands, and a lip gloss touch-up, you opened the door, not sure he would still be there. He was…. lounging on the couch, watching the tv on the adjacent wall. There was no acknowledgment when you re-emerged so you mumbled some sort of ‘thanks’ and crossed the room, heading for the door.

“Are you afraid of me?’ he spoke at your back making you stop and turn around. Aside from the glances in the rear-view mirror, it was the first time he had looked at you directly. And holy shit, was it ever direct.

“No,” you lied trying not to sneak a peek at his tight white shirt stretched over his muscular chest and arms. You definitely didn’t want to be caught staring at his perfect hair, styled in that ‘perfect hot guy way.’ Holy god, he was striking, incredibly hot with his square jaw and smooth tanned skin. You hadn’t fully taken it in until then…. when his piercing blue eyes held you frozen in place.

The angle of his chin shifted just slightly, and he subtly squinted making you think he was somehow pleased with himself. A sweep of goosebumps spread over your skin and you crossed your arms as if suddenly feeling a breeze. Was your stomach suddenly upset? Or, maybe it was your nerves clawing out your insides.

“Then sit,” he said casually, as he looked away and you detected the slightest hint of a dare in his tone.

Why? You wanted to ask but didn’t, wondering if he was trying to intimate you. One thing you did suspect was that his aloofness was only to draw you in. Funny, you thought. Wouldn’t work. You had to get back to your friends….

“Okay,” you instead answered and walked over, slowly sitting down, your body sensing the two inches of space between you. Great, it was a love seat.

Like the force of nature he felt like, he somehow read your thoughts.

“Get me a beer,” he said, nodding in the direction of the bar fridge next to the tv. What teenager had a bar fridge in their bedroom, you wondered, only realizing then that he had ordered you instead of asking.

If your eyes hadn’t scanned his crossed legs extended out on the coffee table, his crutch on the floor below, you might have told him to get his own…. but…you didn’t. Did he not want to get up? Was he in pain? Was it his legs or his back that hurt him? Maybe a knee? Was it from sports? Or, had he been in an accident with his car? The blank one. It looked fast and he looked like he drove fast too.

Slowly but with no attempt to conceal it, he let out a long sigh, snapping you out of your analysis and you realized that perhaps you were a bit drunk. But out of the corner of your eye, you saw him smirk.

“Get a beer for yourself,” he chimed as if offering a token reward for your obedience.

That was likely the extent of his chivalry anyway. Returning with two beers you handed him one not expecting and not getting any sort of thanks. His eyes stayed glued on the tv.

“Do you even like beer?” he asked, and it somehow felt like a dig.

“Yeah,” you answered taking a small sip.

God, you hated beer.

For a few minutes, you both stared at a music video, some ethereal, whining song, about a hunter in the night sung by an emo looking guy. It suited Ivar perfectly and the longer you listened the more uncomfortable you felt being there… alone in his room……essentially two strangers.

Mentally, you cleared your thought. “My name is…”

“I know your name,” he cut you off sounding annoyed.

It was getting even stranger and you wondered if your friends would eventually come find you….

“Pray to your god, open your heart, whatever you do, don’t be afraid of the dark.”

…the song played on and it felt like the tension was building but what could you say? You didn’t know him and weren’t going to make small talk. Just as the air seemed to be getting sucked out of the room, you shifted on your seat making him look over at you.

“What?” you said sounding defensive.

Without a word, he just stared at you. The skin on your cheeks began to warm and you felt embarrassed.

“Well, this was fun,” you pushed your hands down into the couch to get up but he grabbed your forearm. Gasping, your eyes locked with his blue ones, his brows pinched and his eyes narrowed.

“I thought you weren’t afraid of me,” he whispered and you noticed how much closer he was all of a sudden. Jesus, those eyes…. they were clear and cold yet somehow dark and felt bottomless. You just stared back as if hypnotized but it was the quick flutter of his lashes and a look of uncertainty that flashed across his face that had you come back to the surface.

“My. Arm. Please,” you articulated through clenched teeth, and you knew you sounded scared.

Tilting his head, his lids blinked again and he began to chuckle, flashing a forced smile and releasing your arm. Smoothly, casually, he leaned forward and grabbed the TV remote off the table as if picking it up had been his plan all along. Slamming your beer down, you stood and rushed for the door. You were fucking done with Ivar Lothbrok.

“See you at school, beautiful,” he called in a patronizing voice.

As you rounded the corner, the volume of the tv rose and the last words of the song felt foreboding.

“Cover your eyes, the devil’s inside.”

Next chapter

@youbloodymadgenius @whenimaunicorn @ceridwenofwales @sweeneythots @funmadnessandbadassvikings @redama @mdredwine @didiintheblog @londongal2810 @fields-and-fields-of-poppies @oddsnendsfanfics @youbelongeverywhere @blonddnamedhandz @hecohansen31 @naaladareia @gearhead66 @flowers-in-your-hayr @lisinfleur @geekandbooknerd @xbellaxcarolinax @edythofhastings @ivarsgoddess @shannygoatgruff @where-beauty-goes-to-die @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @snatcherheart @xbellaxcarolinax @lordsexmachine

#modern ivar #ivar au #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarson #ivar smut #ivar and sarah #ivar and reader #ivar imagine #jealous ivar

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syndianites · 3 years

Text

A Queen Serves and Protects

Chapter Five

First Chapter –> Last Chapter –> Current –> Next Chapter Summary:

Post-Style Queen, Pre-Queen Wasp.

Chloe finds the Bee Miraculous, but instead of finding an obliging, subservient Kwami, she finds the Kwami of Order and Subjugation, and Pollen is not about to let herself be used like Nooroo was.

Granted, the only danger in a teenage girl is the damage she poses to herself. Can Pollen shape Chloe into a hero? Or will she stubbornly refuse to change and remain the bitter, harsh person the city has long since known?

[My take on how Chloe’s character could have developed] ——————————————————————————————

“Okay,” Pollen brought her paws together. “Let’s get this study session started.”

After the debacle of Chloe’s mother walking out on her again, Pollen insisted she get some food and relax for a bit. The two watched some cute cartoons- which Pollen was happily enraptured by- and sat together in pleasant silence.

That hadn’t stopped Pollen from plotting her next move, however.

Floating over Chloe’s tablet, which Pollen had asked her to hook up to the TV, she picked up the tablet pen and began drawing a simple figure. Adding a blonde ponytail, Pollen wrote ‘You’ over the top of the drawing.

“Let’s start with the basics. Emotions!” Pollen wrote out the word. “This is the thing that motivates people the most. Someone spills water on you? You’re angry. You are given a nice gift? Happy. So on and so forth.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. Even she knew this stuff. What was the point of this?

Tapping the pen on the drawing of Chloe, Pollen asked, “Now, what makes you a bad person?”

“What!” Chloe interrupted, “I am not a bad person!”

Pollen put her paws up. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. Let me try again: What makes people not like you?”

Chloe huffed. “I’m better than them and they know it.”

Instead of writing what Chloe said, Pollen wrote ‘you see yourself as above others.’

“Ugh, is this just an excuse to make fun of me? I’m so out.” Chloe made to stand up but was stopped by Pollen.

“Patience, Chloe. Right now, you're doing well. You working with me is a good start..” Pollen beamed at Chloe and she had to look away, lest the warmth blossoming in her chest got any bigger.

“What else makes people not like you?” Pollen asked.

Chloe hummed, trying not to make a sarcastic comment. “They don’t agree with my opinions, even when I’m right.”

Shaking her head, Pollen wrote down ‘You say things that upset people.’

Chloe crossed her arms and muttered, “It’s not my fault that they are upset by the truth.”

Ignoring her, Pollen continued, “Do you have any other ideas?”

Pollen received a head shake in reply. Which was fine, of course. She could work with this.

Making a new page, Pollen re-wrote ‘You see yourself as above others.’

“So,” Pollen delicately sat on a pillow she had prepared next to the tablet, “Why do you see yourself as above others?”

Chloe scoffed. “That’s easy, it’s because my father is-”

“I said why do you see yourself as better than others, not why your dad is above others,” Pollen interrupted, fighting back an eye roll.

“Fine then, it’s because my mo- I mean,” Chloe gave a light cough as Pollen raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s because I’m rich and they aren’t.”

Pollen, sighing, wrote down ‘lives luxuriously.’

Chloe frowned. “Doesn’t that just mean I’m rich?”

“No, Chloe. Technically, you aren’t rich. Your parents are. You just live in a very comfortable, very nice place that is paid for and maintained by your parents and their employees. Is that something that makes you better than someone else?”

“Uh, yes?”

“No!”

Pollen took a deep breath.

Today was going to be a long day.

“Consider this Chloe.”

“I’m considering it.”

“Consider this, Chloe. Would you still be better than others if you didn’t live in this hotel? If you lived in a three bedroom apartment with your father?”

“Of course.”

“But what separates you from others if you live just like them?”

“Um.” Chloe was at a loss for words. If she was just like the others, how would she be better? “I just am, Pollen.”

“No.”

“Because I’m rich?”

“What if you weren’t?”

“Then it’s because I’m smarter than them?”

“Who is the smartest person in your class?”

“Ugh, fine, it’s because I know better than them.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been misguided before.”

“I’m more talented than them!”

“What are your talents?”

“Shopping, obviously.”

Pollen fought to not scream. Like talking to a brick wall. Well, if Chloe wanted to be a brick wall…

“I’ll ask one more time Chloe, what makes you better than others?”

“I’m-”

Pollen cut her off by drawing an arrow beneath where she wrote ‘You see yourself as above others’ and wrote, with a deadpan look, ‘Nothing.’

Standing up furiously, Chloe waved her arms about. “What do you mean nothing! Of course I’m above others, that's just how it is! My family has more money, so we get better things, so I have a better upbringing, which means I’m better overall.”

“How often are your parents around?” Pollen stared Chloe down.

“I-, um, sometimes?”

“How often is your father around?”

“He always picks up when I call.”

“How often is he physically around you, seeing what you do and spending time with you?”

Chloe sat back down. “We eat meals together. He greets me in the morning. And sometimes he brings me gifts. And, and! I sometimes go with him on his campaign stuff.”

Pollen rubbed her eyes in frustration. No wonder this girl had so many problems.

“Alright then, let’s start again. You are not better than others and here is why…”

//////////////

Monday was her first test. Pollen had insisted on making her work on how she talked to people first and foremost. According to her, ‘It will be easier to see others as equals if you treat them as such. The first step in that is to talk to them politely.’

That’s all she had to do. Be polite.

So when Sabrina greeted her as she arrived at school, instead of giving her a curt nod and waltzing past her, expecting her to keep up, Chloe grit out a “Good Morning.”

Sabrina, on her part, took the greeting in stride. “You seem to be in a good mood today, Chloe!”

Ready to walk forward without a response, Chloe almost groaned at the nudge she felt from her inner jacket pocket. “It is a nice day, Sabrina.”

Pollen, from inside the pocket, rolled her eyes. At least it was a response.

The duo walked into school, ignoring the chatter amongst the other students, and made their way to their classroom.

Ms. Bustier kindly greeted Chloe and Sabrina as they walked in and- after a nudge from Pollen- both Sabrina and Chloe greeted her back. Already Chloe was growing tired of this. Is this what people had to do every day? Ridiculous.

Class was the easiest part. Ms. Bustier, as nice as she was, was strict in her classroom. Even Chloe respected her. So the students behaved. All Chloe had to do was not make any biting comments.

‘Just because you say something you think is true,’ Pollen had told her in one of their many ‘Let’s Bee Nice’ sessions, ‘Doesn’t mean it isn’t hurtful. A good hero always thinks about how they affect others with their words.’

That is when someone decided to start shit. Of course.

In the brief period where they had a quiz- nothing serious, just a check to see how well they were keeping up with the subject so far- and had to go up to Ms. Bustier’s desk to turn it in, Lila happened.

Lovely, lying Lila.

Chloe had taken her paper up, all on her own to Sabrina’s shock, and had been walking back to her seat when she saw Lila pull a quick sleight of hand. From inside her sleeve she dropped a simple, but nice, white hair clip just close enough to Marinette’s stuff to look like she knew it was there. Normally, Chloe would have shrugged and ignored it. But she knew Lila would disrupt the class over some little hair clip.

Did she know Lila had been messing with Marinette for a while now? Yes. Did she care that some of Lila’s stories were far-fetched? No. As Chloe saw it, Lila was just another girl trying to be popular and feel exceptional at school. Compared to Chloe, she would never be exceptional.

She pinched herself. Sitting back down at her desk, she reminded herself of the lesson Pollen had taken to drilling into her head everytime she talked down about someone.

‘What makes you better than others?’

Chloe, each time, had groaned before repeating, ‘Nothing. Everyone is unique in their own right but just as good as someone else.’

Did Chloe believe that? No! Some people were just better than others. All that sweet talk about how everyone was unique? That was just Pollen seeing the best in people. Chloe wouldn’t strain herself looking for something that wasn’t there. Some people just weren’t exceptional.

‘The only exceptional thing about you is your mother.’

Still, Chloe DID like Pollen a whole lot, and what was her speech about how people give other people power? If Chloe thought Pollen’s word was worth something, then clearly it was.

In any case, Chloe decided to keep an eye out for Lila’s next move. She wouldn’t let her cause chaos in Ms. Bustier’s class. She was the best teacher in the school, after all. And that had nothing to do with how nice she was to Chloe. Not at all.

It didn’t take long for Lila to act. As she was returning from Ms. Bustier’s desk, she gasped. “Marinette! Where did you find that hair clip?”

Marinette, unsurprisingly, was confused. “Find what?”

“That clip right there,” Lila pointed it out. “That’s the clip I lost this morning! My dear old grandmother had given it to me as a gift years ago, before she passed it’s-” She teared up a bit then, bringing a hand to her mouth. “It’s one of the last things I have from her.”

Chloe eyed the exchange with disinterest. Lila putting on the waterworks? Check. Marinette having no clue what was happening? Check. The whole class trying to pretend they weren’t listening in on the conversation? Check.

“I didn’t find it anywhere. I hadn’t even seen it until now,” Marinette said, bewildered.

Taking that as her chance, Lila gasped again. “Marinette… did you steal it? Oh my gosh, no wonder I couldn’t find it! I had looked all over for it after I left my bag here to go get a quick breakfast. My poor mother was too busy this morning to get me anything, but left money for me to get food after wishing me a good day. Did you take it from my bag?”

For a moment Marinette’s eye twitched. Clearly, she didn’t believe the whole tale Lila had just spun. Chloe didn’t care. Lila loved to color her words with as much grandeur as she could. It was like a child coloring in a coloring book- just because the art was good didn’t mean the colors weren’t messy and didn’t clash horribly.

Belatedly, Marinette realized the whole class was listening in on the conversation. “I, uh, I-”

Lila turned to the rest of the class with misty eyes. Immediately, they jumped to her defense.

“Marinette, did you take it?”

“What do you mean you have no idea how that got there? It’s at your desk!”

“It couldn’t have just appeared.”

“It’s highly unlikely for the hair clip to have just made its way to Marinette’s desk on its own.”

Tired of the overlapping voices, Chloe audibly scoffed. “Puh-lease.” The class turned to her. Good. “Dupain-Cheng probably just found it on the floor and picked it up thinking it was lost garbage or something. Knowing Miss Goody-Two-Shoes over there, she was going to give it to Ms. Bustier or lost and found until she remembered that her clumsy, scatter-brained self was about to be late for class.”

There. All Marinette had to do was say, ‘Yes, Chloe! That’s exactly it! Thank you so much.’

Instead, she stared at Chloe just as dumbfounded as before. Lila, realizing she wasn’t going to get anywhere with this anymore, turned back to Marinette happily. “Thank you so much! I don’t know what I would have done if I had truly lost it.”

“Uh, yeah, you’re welcome?” Marinette gave an awkward smile, eyes moving between Lila and Chloe rapidly.

“Although, I do wonder if you would have done that if you knew it was mine…” Lila wilted dramatically, before sending Marinette a pained smile and walking back to her desk. Leave it to the girl to find a way to still make Marinette a bad person.

Chloe rolled her eyes. Whatever. Now that the class had settled back down, Ms. Bustier could keep teaching and they could go back to making Chloe’s life of being a ‘better person’ easy.

Maybe this nice thing wasn’t so hard.

Pollen, meanwhile, was counting the nice comments versus the mean comments to see if she could count that towards Chloe’s niceness score.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #ml #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #chloe bourgeois #chloe bourgeois redemption #pollen #pollen (ladybug)#pollen the kwami #bee miraculous #kwami of the bee miraculous #im honestly so tired of typing out tags #should i keep going to reach a wider audience? yes #do i care?#not enough

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toaarcan · 3 years

Text

I’ve realised that I’m kinda... still not over V8C14.

Like... it’s the first time in a long while that I’ve felt... actively disappointed by the show. Like the last time was probably V4, which is a good while ago now, and it sucks because the rest of V8 is so good. For most of the volume, CRWBY were firing on all cylinders, and then in the last episode and a half they just... beefed it.

V8C13 has its upshots, but C14 just... isn’t good, and I think that’s because none of it feels really earned.

Cinder... is a mess. She really is. CRWBY can’t really seem to decide whether she’s a villain protagonist that we should be able to draw catharsis from, or if she’s just the fucking worst. We get given the whole sympathetic backstory reel, and it had me going for a couple of days but none of it really justifies the amount of murder and the sheer delight she takes in it. I think her winning was meant to be kind of a “Yes, slay queen” moment and it really didn’t land for me, largely because, well.. her character development and the steps she takes to grow from it just don’t add up.

Like, the idea they’re going for is that, after three volumes of using her powers like a cudgel, and basically just running into fights and blowing things up with her flamethrower-hands, Cinder wises up and starts playing to her strengths again, wielding her powers and her brain in equal measure.

RWBY’s no stranger to this, it did the same thing with Weiss in V5-7, having her unlock her summoning and then start relying on it entirely in fights, leading to her near-death in V5, after which she properly worked it into her existing combat style.

Unfortunately, the V8 finale is written in such a way that Cinder’s smartest possible option is to just run in and blow things up with her flamethrower-hands. The use of fear that was key to her V3 strategy... basically all fell on Watts choosing the right time to cut off Jaune’s broadcast to cause the most confusion, and then it was right back to the Leeroy Jenkins playbook for Cinder. She actually played smarter in V5, when she was supposed to be at the nadir for her reliance on power above all else, planning to isolate her target and a single ally, and then steal the powers there.

And it’s not like she outplanned the heroes at all. They just kinda forget that she’s out there and might be a problem, while she gets to know their exact plan and how it’s going to work, basically because Neo turned out to be way more basic and single-minded than I gave her credit for.

(That’s another thing, I expected Neo to be kind of a wild-card in all this but nope, she was fully loyal to Cinder besides some snark, which was just so boring)

What’s supposed to be Cinder’s big moment of getting her mojo back feels mostly identical to the way she’s been acting since V4 ended, but this time it works because she read the script and the heroes forgot she existed.

I’ve said it before, but nothing sums up Cinder better than the fact that she got her hands on an all-powerful artefact of creation, which she could use to make just about anything... and she used it to make fire.

But then the thing that really settles it for me is Penny dying. I could’ve taken Cinder’s plot-mandated victory a lot better if they hadn’t packaged it in with Penny dying and just... torpedoing two volumes of character development.

I’ve seen people wildly speculating that Penny’s going to return from the dead for a second time somehow, and I almost believe it, what with Pietro having one more resurrection in him, but what’s telling is that the belief that Penny will be brought back isn’t based on foreshadowing, but the thought that, with all the time spent on her arc and the ideals and thoughts put into it, it would be at best dodgy writing, and at worst, outright antithetical to the show’s themes, if she really did stay dead.

It’s not “Penny will come back because this hints at it”, it’s “Penny will come back because killing her for real would be bad writing”.

And the thing is... they’re kinda right?

Like, we’re shown that Penny has been enduring dehumanisation from Jimmy Copperdong even before he leapt off the slippery slope and became a full-blown fascist. Everyone around her in the Atlas military, apart from Winter, views her as a machine, and not a person. She’s not allowed friends, or time to herself. Even becoming the Winter Maiden isn’t enough to convince anyone outside of Winter, Pietro, and the protagonist gang that she’s a person. Then when she turns against him, Brassdick pulls Watts out of jail to hack her, violating her bodily autonomy in a way that forces her to attack her friends, causes her serious injuries, and will eventually cause her to die, and the only thing she can think of to escape is to willingly die and chose her successor as the Winter Maiden. Her friends talk her out of this, and manage to put together a whole plan that will free her from Tintodger’s claws and allow her to live freely, but will in turn put them on an even tighter time limit to save the people of Mantle and Atlas... and it’s all looking good... and then it all gets fucked up so Cinder can have a win.

Like the turnaround between “Suicide and choosing your successor is not the answer” to “Actually suicide and choosing your successor is the answer” is like... two episodes. 30-40 minutes. I’m watching Penny ask Jaune to stab her and I’m like “Didn’t we just spend an episode and a half on dismissing this as an idea and finding a different option?”

In this show that’s supposedly “hopepunk,” Penny’s story ends with her being mortally wounded for trying to protect her friends from Smirks McFlamethrower, and choosing to die being her big act of freedom. Which is just outright depressing.

And it’s not as though CRWBY decided they couldn’t have a Maiden among the heroes, or they needed that useless goddamn Stretch Grimmstrong arm to work for once in its life (That thing is 0/3 against Maidens) and give Cinder the powers, because the powers went to Winter anyway.

I want to stress that I’m not normally anywhere near this down on RWBY’s writing. I generally really like the show. V7 was great. V6 was bloody brilliant, and it was the point where I started liking RWBY more than RvB. And most of V8 was on-track to becoming my second-favourite volume, and then it did that. This isn’t meant to be a RWDE thing or anything to do with those dipshits that hatewatch the show for some fucking reason. If I didn’t like the show, especially the past few volumes, I wouldn’t be nearly this ticked off by V8C14. So if you’re about to go “Hur-hur the whole show’s like that”, please fuck off. I guess I just wanted to vent a little about this.

I am looking forward to V9, though. Afterlife shenanigans should be fun, and the fact that RWBYJ are in a different dimension entirely to Cinder means the writing quality will skyrocket compared to the end of V8.

#RWBY #RWBY V8 #Griping I guess #CW: Suicide #TW: Suicide

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onewomancitadel · 2 years

Note

Hello again. What are the most appealing aspects of anime to you? what draws you in?

Hi again anon, hope you're having a good evening! XD Thank you for asking for my opinion, I hope I give an interesting answer.

Well, I don't like most anime fan culture. I find it unappealing and uninteresting. I don't like anime for the sake of anime, BUT I like a lot of anime, because it's very obviously artistic and thoughtful. Artistic and thoughtful enough for Black Swan or Inception to joyfully 'borrow' from Satoshi Kon, or equally considered too artistic and thoughtful in making live action adaptations such as Ghost in the Shell (2017). The director literally said the original film adaptation had too much philosophy in it and wanted to take that out. Gut the original Ghost in the Shell film of its thematic drive and you're left with shallow action schlock and no motivator. Oh wait, that's exactly what they did!

So anime as an artform is in this sort of weird position where you get anime films such as Angel's Egg or Ghost in the Shell (my two favourites) as being formative to video games and film, and other such bleedover entertainment (I'm pretty sure Angel's Egg really inspired the Dark Souls series - Ghost in the Shell, obviously, The Matrix) and then you kind of get that dismissal of anime as a serious medium for conveying ideas, because animation is for children. (My issues with certain anime probably has less bearing on the issue).

I think the conflation of 'animation is for children' is interesting because you can probably make the argument that it is true, in a sense; animation can reach heights of fantasy it's hard for live action to do, and fantastical things - especially bright and colourful stuff - is generally considered for children. I'm with C.S. Lewis on this one: 'Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.' But I think most anime viewers would agree that with that heightened fantasy, you can also get some of the most out of this world stuff with adult themes conveyed appropriately.

The thing with animation too is that essentially every single shot is controlled, and is profoundly purposeful. This isn't something I'd immediately dismiss in live action (for instance, The Matrix does this a lot, though I would argue here this may be the anime influence) but I like thoughtful things, and I like metaphor a great deal. But on this front, I prefer hand-drawn anime. Which is ironic, since I'm a fan of R/WBY, but I actually just prefer the commitment to 3D animation. I find digital 2D very, very ugly, and I would rather just not watch it. In fact, most modern art-styles of anime I really don't enjoy at all. Little bug-eyed things which need to be swatted with a newspaper. I think the effort and the kind of texture you get from hand-drawn anime is like nothing else, and it distresses me when the swiftness of digital is prioritised over the artistry of hand-drawn. *shrug* I'm not the one being catered to anyway, so I'm not sure my opinion matters. (Obviously with R/WBY here as well, the 3D animation lets an independent team make their art, so you win some and lose some, but again, I like just the 3D).

So I'm very picky with anime, but I'm picky with most things in ways other people are not picky. Ater all, I'm a huge fan of R/WBY, and I've heard enough from people who don't like it. But we probably don't share anime opinions either. As I've noted before, Ghost in the Shell and Angel's Egg both utilise Jung in their storytelling, which I notice and am a fan of in R/WBY as well, so I'm not interested in the same sorts of traditional things. (If you're an Eva fan, you know it's packed full of Freud; Freud is a bit more unusual. Yes, I like Eva, I'm like that, but I don't want anything to do with the rebuilds. Icky. Leave old stuff alone).

But yes, I like anime the same way I like film. I wouldn't say I have an encyclopaedic knowledge of it at all; I just watch what I like. I've heard it all from anime fans before in high school about Bleach, Naruto, whathaveyou, and I don't like it, but I don't like the Marvel films, but that doesn't mean I don't like cinema.

(I promise I'm not a total contrarian. I am an avowed Reylo shipper, the most normie ship of all time - seriously, you should see the numbers on that ship, and how many people were into it that had never shipped before).

Anyway, I think animation is great, it's moving and very beautiful and thoughtful (I especially like the pacing, quite often) and some of my favourite moving picture shots are from anime. See my pinned post lol.

Also yeah I watched The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya and Fruit's Basket when I was a kid online, after DBZ, before I knew the annoying kids at school who kept me captive at a sleepover to watch Naruto. (One of the girls went to school dressed up as Sasuke on no-uniform days and non-uniform days, though the others wore their Akatsuki cloaks). So they are kind of the exception to the 2D digital animation rule, but I haven't seen those in years. Also Haruhi Suzumiya is a weird one because it's obviously SO referential to other anime and watching it without a frame of reference is really funny. Also Fruit's Basket and yummy yummy monster romance, very formative. I remember watching a choppy 240p upload of Tohru confronting The Monster Boyfriend in his monster form in the rain and yeah, that explains a lot.

Anyway, big epic fantastical pictures.

My favourite shot ever of all time. I actually saw it the first time at a rescreening at the cinema. Walked out of there not the same.

#seraphina's asks #user: anonymouse #sorry in advance if I sound annoying stupid or pretentious or all three at once #I am just the way I am and my silly little blog is where I derive a tiny bit of joy

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writesowhatnext · 4 years

Text

the feeling that we’re meeting // sirius black

Summary: Sirius Black has never liked the reader and this he made known. Maybe it’s because she’s a Slytherin. Maybe it was the bat-bogey hex. Strange, though, how things change with a war in full throttle.

Request: hello :) can i have an angst to fluff w sirius pls? (slowburn) post-hogwarts a few years where y/n was one of the main targets along w snape for james’ and sirius’ ridiculing and bullying, and they were just dreadful to her (she was in slytherin) :( but then a few years after hogwarts she joins the order and sirius acts just rlly immature and mean to her but then slowly starts falling for her as he starts noticing little aspects of her personality :) and at the end can there be like a fluffy cuddling scene where she asks him why he was so nasty to her and he talks ab how guilty and sorry he is :) ty babe!

A/N: I liked this request tbh bc it’s so important to remember that sirius is a brill character bc he’s so realistic with his equal good and bad traits – I was a bit liberal with canon context but I can’t say I don’t enjoy a world with James and Lily alive :) Also I listened to ‘For the First Time’ by The Script when I was writing and I agree

Reader: female, Slytherin

Warnings: female!reader, drinking, death eater parents, innuendo I suppose, also long af, injury, parental abuse, battle, deaths

Every time you tiptoed down the stairs of number twelve Grimmauld Place, you had to remind yourself that the war was far more important than whatever colour you’d like to dye Sirius Black’s hair. You considered pink, but thought better of it when you realised, he’d probably enjoy it.

It had been months, but you remembered the first time you set foot into the Black family home like it was yesterday. Following Dumbledore through the strange threshold, your nerves climbing as you heard the strangely familiar voices of the boys that had tormented you till you cried from the other room, you found yourself pulling at your sleeves, desperate to be anywhere else. The silence that fell as you stepped out from behind the Head of the Order was suffocating, and you could feel all eyes were on you. Biting the bullet, you glanced up from the crusty carpet, facing people you’d never wanted to see again. You recognised them all despite the years passed, standing together equally unenthused to see you. Remus was taller, impossibly, than you remembered him and Lily’s face was all angles now. Sirius’s hair was longer and styled differently, more like a muggle’s, but James still had the same half-broken glasses, and Peter the same child-like roundness to his cheeks.

“This, as I’m sure you know,” Dumbledore began, crossing his arms over his front. “Is Y/N-“

“Dumbledore, Sir,” James interjected, his tone as incredulous as his expression.

“You can’t be serious!”

You exhaled sharply from your nose at Sirius’ words, dipping your head when it seemed no one else saw the irony.

“Y/N is an excellent witch and she’ll be an excellent addition to the Order.”

“Sir,” Sirius huffed, shooting you a glare before stepping forward towards Dumbledore. “Her parents are death eaters; you can’t possibly trust her.”

“Remind me, Sirius,” you said, your voice echoing in the room for the first time. “What was tattooed on your brother’s arm.”

Although you were entirely correct, you felt a pang of guilt at the hurt that flashed in his eyes before the ever-familiar Black scowl creased his brow. Dumbledore’s presence beside you suddenly felt less and less comforting.

“She was always excellent in Charms,” Remus said gently. You faced him sharply, surprised to see his eyes so apologetic.

“And Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Lily’s tone was light and you were oddly pleased to see a smile on her face. You hoped that meant you would have at least one friend here.

“I wonder bloody why,” Sirius muttered, storming past you into the kitchen, shoulder hitting yours. You clenched your jaw, biting your lip to avoid saying something you’d reject.

“I hope you will treat Miss Y/N with the respect all allies deserve in this time. She’s risking her life to spy for us. You are all aware of what she’s put on the line for this,” Dumbledore said, an air of finality to his tone before he left you there, in the lion’s den, alone.

“Well,” Lily said, standing up from the armchair she’d been nestled into. She offered you a calloused and freckled hand with a smile. “Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix.”

It didn’t take long for the older members of the Order to trust you; they didn’t care about petty squabbles and rivalries, only the information you could provide. The story, however, wasn’t the same with your old Gryffindor pals. Lily, you accepted with equal parts hesitance and glee, was a fast friend. She had got into the habit of asking you how you were daily and offering you tea in the mornings. Sometimes, after a long mission, you found yourself talking into the night with her.

“Wait, wait,” you said, hand sloppily gripping the stem of an old wine glass you’d found in the cupboards. “You and Potter are married?”

She giggled at your response, leaning her elbow on the armchair next to her as she careened forward, the carpet crunching at the shift.

“Yes,” she nodded, smiling brightly. “I was just as surprised as you, at first, but he-“ a hiccup escaped her lips, earning a round of laughter from you both. “He’s a sweet guy. A tosser, by all means, but loyal and brave and kind.”

You’d never considered James Potter any of those things at Hogwarts, but now, in the real world, you found yourself slowly warming up to him.

“He’s changed, you know,” she said earnestly, suddenly a lot soberer than you felt. “They all have.”

You pursed your lips, taking another sip of the dark wine in your glass.

“Sirius hasn’t.”

She sighed, rubbing her eye with the knuckle of her thumb.

“He’s always hated me.”

Speaking of the devil, a familiar shadow appeared in the doorway before you could carry on your conversation. Sirius stared at you for a moment, his dark eyes locked on your face. He swallowed, mouth curling downwards slightly as he looked at your messy hair and casual position, sat in a place he’d hated for years. Something stirred in his chest and his expression shifted ever so slightly, but before you could question it, he disappeared up the stairs. You huffed, shaking your head as you turned back to Lily.

“See?”

It wasn’t another twenty minutes before James walked in, an amused grin playing on his lips at his wife’s tipsy state.

“C’mon, love. Let’s get you to bed,” he said, gently taking Lily’s arm to lift her up.

“Wow,” she said, whispering very loudly to you. “James Potter with a good idea; there’s a first.”

“Oi!” he laughed, poking her in the ribs and catching the wine glass before she could throw it onto the floor. It would’ve been a shame, you thought sarcastically, if someone ruined such a lovely carpet. He turned to you then, still smiling.

“Cheers, Y/N.”

He shot you a wink before escorting Lily upstairs, her drunk rambling fading the further away they got. You chuckled under your breath, pleased that maybe you weren’t such an outcast as you took another sip. Your mood soured dramatically, though, as you remembered the time, not exactly excited to be returning to your parents.

The next week, you had a few days between missions. Although you probably should’ve been resting at home like everyone else was, Remus included, you ended up on all fours in the Black family living room, pulling up carpet. Remus sat in the armchair at the other end of the room, a newspaper in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. Occasionally, he’d throw a teasing remark at you or ask for help with a tricky crossword clue, but mostly the silence that settled between you was comfortable. You were halfway across the room, surprised you hadn’t thrown up yet at the awful stains on the underside of the carpet, specifically avoiding the one that looked like blood.

“What are you doing?” a voice asked you from the doorway. You looked up, blowing a loose strand of hair from your face as you met Sirius’ eyes. You frowned, sitting back on your feet, carpet still in your hands.

“The laundry,” you replied dryly, a smile tugging at your lips to hear Remus snort into his mug.

“My mother loved this carpet,” he said, a strange look on his face. If you hadn’t known him better, you would’ve mistaken it for approval.

“And a charming family keepsake it is.”

He stared at you for a moment, his gaze steady and unreadable. You doubted whether destroying the carpet without asking him was such a good idea.

“Thank you.”

Without giving you a second to process, he turned left, the front door slamming not a second later. With wide eyes and your jaw on the floor, you looked to Remus, who seemed just as surprised as you.

“Did that just happen?”

He nodded slowly, his brows drawing together. You hummed, matching his frown before you started pulling roughly at the carpet and he returned to his paper.

“Six letter word for a muggle screenplay?”

You didn’t think that much more about Sirius’ gratitude in the next few days, too busy with keeping your lies straight and the war to waste time on why you hated each other. You did notice, despite yourself, that he seemed gradually less and less opposed to your presence. His conversations seemed to dry up less when you entered a room, his glare settled on you less often in Order meetings. As things got more and more difficult at home, the pressure from your parents to get the dark mark growing, it was the small things that helped.

“Y/N,” Peter said one morning, crossing his arms on the breakfast table. You’d warmed to Peter; he was always a little lost, a little wayward. It made you smile most of the time and you couldn’t help the motherly instinct you felt toward him, despite your similarity in age.

“Do you have a spare towel?”

“Why? What did you do with yours?”

A blush covered his cheeks and immediately you found that you really did not want to hear his answer.

“Yeah, I’ll fetch it,” you said, moving to exit the kitchen with a great deal of haste. You’d stayed at the headquarters a few times after hard or early morning missions and Sirius, despite your history, had been kind enough to give you towels to use. You’d been sure, though, that Kreacher, the house-elf, was behind that.

You hadn’t anticipated seeing Sirius in the corridor, muttering to himself as he stood next to the velvet curtain on the wall. His arms were full of what could only be described as junk, the nail of an old bed-frame catching on the fabric. He didn’t notice you behind him as he struggled and with a decidedly irritated yank, he pulled the wooden post free. However, much to his chagrin, and everyone in the house’s eardrums, the curtains fell loose and an extortionately loud screeching filled the air.

“This house is full of blood traitors! Mudbloods!” it hissed, echoing through all the rooms. Seeing Sirius’ arms full, you bent down next to him and gripped the metal rod of the curtain, eager to put it back into place. He jumped a little when he saw you, stumbling out the way slightly, his eyebrows threading together as the high-pitched shouting continued. You took one look at the ugly, yellowing woman in the portrait and shoved the curtain in front of her face, hoping you’d never see it again. It took some jiggling, but soon the portrait was covered and you could only hear rustling behind the fabric, muzzled yells rattling the frame.

“A charming woman, your Mother was. I’m surprised you don’t leave the curtains open all the time,” you said, a distasteful expression tainting your features. Sirius looked at you for a moment, his jaw clenching slightly.

“It’s okay,” you said, smiling a little. “You can laugh.”

He didn’t, but the slight upward curve of his lip didn’t escape you.

“Did you ever have the pleasure to meet her in the flesh?” he asked. Your brows raised at the first real question he’d asked you since you joined the Order.

“No, sadly not,” you crossed your arms and leant on the door. “My parents spoke highly of her, though, which is never the best sign.”

He only nodded, standing awkwardly for a moment before turning to leave. You blinked, before remembering where you’d been going.

“Sirius,” you began, the light tone not suiting his name in your mouth. “Do you have spare towels? Peter-“

Sirius smirked, a strangely handsome expression on him.

“Peter dropped chocolate frogs all over his again,” he huffed, shaking his head. “Just ask Kreacher.”

You barely paid attention to him leaving as you wandered upstairs, in search of the grumpy house-elf. You were pleased to know that Peter’s towel hadn’t been ruined by something more suspect than chocolate, but you couldn’t deny that you were even more pleased that you’d finally had an interaction with Sirius that didn’t involve a row.

Your next interaction, though, was less than ideal. You stumbled toward twelve Grimmauld place with a throbbing headache and shaky legs. Your parents had not been kind when they discovered your treachery, your place in the Order; you were lucky to escape with your life. That’s all you could tell yourself as you dragged yourself up the steps, knocking loudly on the door. It was just your luck for Sirius, of all people, to open it. His expression was at first worried before he realised it was you and a frown settled on his features. As you looked down, trying to concentrate on the swaying floor, you didn’t notice the concern that returned upon seeing your injuries.

“What the blood-“ he began, grunting slightly as you collapsed into him, no longer able to keep your body upright.

You woke the next day in a clean bed with a dull headache. The house-elf shuffling around your room had garnered your attention, and you blinked at him as he placed towels, sheets and clothes in a pile next to the bed.

“Kreacher?” you asked, your voice sore in your throat. “Why am I here?”

“You’re a blood trait-“

You shot him a dry look.

“I mean, how did I get here? Why are you putting clothes out?”

The house-elf sighed, a grizzly sound.

“Master Sirius ordered me to,” he said gruffly. “Said you shall be living here.”

“Oh.”

You frowned, barely registering Kreacher as he made to leave.

“Thank you,” you called after him, earning a grumble in response.

You and Sirius never spoke about the fact that you were now living in the Order Headquarters, in his house, but you never forgot the kindness he showed you. It was a strange feeling, to be grateful to Sirius Black, especially after everything he’d done to you as a student. The topic of your parents didn’t even come up until the night before a particularly difficult mission planning to infiltrate a meeting of death eaters.

“Lily,” you said, sitting on the counter in the kitchen with the others dotted around, even Sirius. “I don’t know if I should come on this mission.”

“What?” Remus asked, placing the chocolate he’d been aiming from his mouth down on the tablecloth.

“I was useful to the Order when I knew things and now,” your voice broke slightly at the memory of the last time you’d seen your parents. “Now I have no information and I might have to… I might have to fight the people that raised me tonight and they don’t have any qualms about killing me or any of you where we stand.”

“Exactly!” James said, moving his arm from the back of Lily’s chair to rest his elbows on the table. “They don’t care about killing us. They killed Gideon and Fabien. You saw what they did to Frank and Alice.”

Your chest tightened. Frank and Alice had always been kind to you; now they were at St. Mungo’s.

“Information or not,” Sirius said, surprising everyone. “You’re a good fighter; we need that.”

The silence that followed his words made you feel like you were missing something as you stared at him, seeing his eyes soft for the first time.

“Sirius is right,” Lily said, nodding. “We have to do all we can; you know that more than most of us.”

The mission had been horrendous.

It had been a bloodbath of proportions you’d never seen before. You’d lost Benjy and Caradoc and Dorcas; people you looked up to. You’d expected losses in a war, you weren’t stupid, but you’d never anticipated the weight behind a spell thrown by your own parents. Despite your own casualties, you’d taken out six death eaters and despite yourself, you were glad your parents weren’t among them. The journey back to the house was a quiet one: Lily busied herself with James’ broken arm and Remus wiped the blood from Sirius’ forehead, dabbing delicately at the cut above his eyebrow. You all disbanded when you got inside, tired and aching, disappearing into your rooms with heavy hearts.

You couldn’t sleep, though, too haunted by the flashes that appeared behind your eyes. It must’ve been past midnight when you tiptoed downstairs, more desperate than ever to not agitate the portrait. You didn’t notice Sirius in the kitchen until you’d shut the door behind you, jumping out of your skin to see him sat there with a glass and a bottle of firewhiskey.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, lifting his glass and taking a swig. You’d come down for tea, but the idea of numbing your senses appealed. He must’ve noticed the way your eyes lingered on his glass and without a word, he reached behind him to grab another, pouring you a liberal shot. You sat down almost tentatively, fingers gliding around the edges of the glass.

He watched with an amused smile as you downed the whole thing, wincing at the burn before you rested it back on the table. He filled it again immediately.

“Rough night.”

“Indeed,” you said, rubbing your eyes and sighing. “I never thought we’d be here.”

He raised an eyebrow, stretching the bandage on his forehead as his lips pressed against the rim of the glass.

“Me and you,” you laughed a little. “Drinking together.”

“Not something I’d have bet on,” he muttered, laughing too. Your smiles both faded as you looked at each other, though, across the plastic gingham table cloth.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

The question tumbled from your lips before you could stop it.

“I don’t hate you.”

You shot him a very dry glance. He shook his head and sighed, putting his glass down a little too loudly before running a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but you.

“You’re a pureblood Slytherin,” he said, running his hands over his face. “And I hated it. I hated anyone that reminded me of this place. And you- you were everything my parents wanted me to be: smart, loyal… dark, I thought.”

You nodded, sipping your drink quietly.

“You were an easy target, too, for a pillock like me. Didn’t have that many friends-“

“That was because they were all stuck-up death eaters.”

“I know that now. It didn’t matter then, though. I was a kid, though, and I thought it was just kids’ stuff-“

“You know, that time you exploded my cauldron in the final Potions exam, I cried for a whole week.”

He had the good sense to look guilty for a second before amusement lifted his cheeks.

“You did bat-bogey hex me for that.”

Your cheeks heated up at the memory, your fingers fiddling with the glass more.

“Which is entirely illegal.”

You smiled, pressed your lips together as you shook your head. It all seemed so long ago; so childish, now. You leant your elbows on the table, resting your chin on your interlocked fingers.

“It was a good shot, though,” you mused, enjoying the way his lips spread into a dazzling grin.

“A bloody good shot,” he laughed. He leant back slowly, tilting his head to the side and biting his top lip. The mood dropped again as he stared at you.

“What?”

“I’m really sorry.”

You wanted to take the piss, but something about his tone or the look in his eyes trapped your words in your throat. You just watched as he stood up, moving towards the sink.

“I made your life hell because I hated my own,” he said, pressing his hands to the counter, leaning forward. “It wasn’t fair. I’m not surprised you hated me, I deserved it.”

You stood up slowly, softly stepping toward him.

“I did hate you,” you said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I hated you for so long it was all I could think about. Even here, I hated seeing your face.”

He turned to you, expression hard and tears sparkling in his eyes.

“I’m not sure if I do anymore.”

He turned around slowly to lean back on the counter as your hand slid down his arm. He caught it gently in his, surprising you.

“I want you to forgive me,” he whispered, staring at you so intensely a lump formed in your throat. You felt like you’d never even met this Sirius before.

“I-“

“I want to earn your forgiveness.”

You were at a loss for words as you looked at him, frozen in place. His hand was warm in your own and you couldn’t, for a moment, think about anything else. You bit your lip and nodded, stepping towards him gently.

“I’d like that.”

You leant into him, your side pressing against his, enjoying his warmth and the new feeling in your chest. You’d been in the war so long you forgot what real life felt like. You felt his hand hover around you nervously before it settled against your back, his hand resting on the counter next to you. And there, with the moonlight pouring in behind you, is where you stood till the sunrise peeked over the horizon; your hands clasped together with Sirius’ arm at your back, silent as you both felt a hope you’d not felt in a good few years.

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator

@loveisblindness

@decadentwastelandtrash

@xinyourdreamsx

@brainlesspasta

@hariosborn

#Sirius Black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black #Harry Potter imagine #harry potter #writing #imagine

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catt-nuevenor · 3 years

Note

hi! i played the demo today and i absolutely loved it! i'm super into the story and in love with your writing and your characters (especially my child! 🥺), the main group seems to be so tight and affectionate, it really feels like a family ❤ i can already tell this is gonna be one of my favorite IFs :) question: i'm from south america and i'm not super familiar w/ english history (outside period dramas lol), so i'm not sure When old england is supposed to be! is it like medieval times? (1)

(2) what type of technological advances did they have available to them? is there any historical fashion style that you think of when you write the characters? and what about naming conventions, do you use a specific time period for the characters? lol i'm sorry for bombarding you with questions! i genuinely love the setting so far and wanna know more to develop my mc(s) accordingly 🤭❤️ thank you for taking the time to answer! i wish you all the best 💕💕

---

Ooooo! A history query! 😄

I love a history query!

Brace youself...

Alright, I had originally thought to set the story in a specific period during the reign of the Stuarts kings (and queen), but that didn’t quite match my mental image of the tech, also the early Stuart period is the most prolific period of witchcraft trials and puritanism, sooooo... no.

I’m trying to avoid pinning it down to a specific set of dates, as such a move will bring the pedants out in force, and it does kind of restrict my flexibility in the story a lot.

We’re really aiming at an amalgamation of later Stuart enlightenment (Queen Anne), Gothic revival architecture with remnants of Tudor and Stuart housing very much prevalent in the smaller settlements, and a hodge podge of historical fashion eras though mostly drawing from the late Georgian, because I mean frock coats are a thing that should have never declined!

Though I can happily live without the muslin white dresses that’s for sure. And NO POWDERED WIGS. I just refuse. And the cast is all well below the aristocracy so no silly hoity toity bustles or wigs!

Beyond the fashion and architecture, real early firearms boil down to flintlock and shot, and they’re incredibly expensive so not a society wide occurrence. Hunting wise most of the peasantry still use the more traditional tools of bows and arrows, or a crossbow if they’re lucky, far cheaper to maintain and restock.

No electric or gas lights. There are no streetlamps as we would understand them, but each resident who owns a property on a public street must hang a lantern outside every night of the autumn and winter period or get fined a shilling (which was a real law in England between 1716 and the introduction of the public system).

Legal code is very decentralised for settlements like Aldmirham, in all but cases of the most serious crimes. These are handled by the local assizes in the nearest cities, for Aldmirham that’s Eadoccaburg.

Because this is my world my rules, gender equality is more in tune with our modern conceptions, so by no means perfect but better than the contemporary would be, and LGBTQIA+ issues are widely accepted in line with liberal modern standards. There are still arses throughout but they are the outlying minority, the MC will also never be put in a position where their identity is unsupported, and I will not have any dead naming or ‘outing’ in the story. I mean, we read these stories to get a break from reality don’t we?

Last thing, naming conventions. So East Anglia (the region I’m setting the story in) has huge linguistic ties to the Norse settlers from the Viking era, and before that the Angli (as Bede the bard calls them in his 730 writings) as in Anglo-Saxons, and despite the passing of many centuries a lot of place and people names still reflect these links. A great example comes from a brilliant article on Norfolk Place names I came across while researching:

Hevingham: Hev (taken from a family name) ing (from the Old English for ‘the people of’) ham (Old English again denoting a farm or village belonging to a family unit)

Ergo “The homestead of the family of Hefa”

So for names I’m falling back on old English, old Norse, and a smattering of modern linguistic mutations where appropriate.

Well, I could go on, but I think Tumblr might start shouting at me about post length soon. So I hope that gave you some groundwork for the world and historical context.

#MyrkMire #asks #interactive fiction #hosted games #choice of games #historical context

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thrillridesz · 4 years

Text

the one with the puppy ▫ changmin

➳ pairing: changmin x reader ➳ genre: fluff ➳ word count: 1.7k ➳ warnings: n/a ➳ requested? : yes

a/n: unedited!

“Is that an actual puppy?”

Changmin asked in a high pitched tone full of excitement, eyes wide with surprise and glee as he watched you let the little ball of fluff run across the living room.

“I don’t think robotic toy puppies are going to be that realistic,” you laughed at his reaction. The two of you had been talking about getting a puppy for the longest time but somehow have never found the time to actually go adopt one. This was definitely a surprise for him and if you weren’t sure earlier about how he’d react, you are now certainly reassured.

“It’s so cute!” He practically screamed and you winced as he shot you an apologetic look, “Sorry.”

“It’s ok, I agree.” You smiled, taking the puppy from him and rubbing your nose affectionately against its small, black nose.

“I love him so much already.”

For some reasons at your words, Changmin felt a sudden pang of jealousy and clinginess in him which was a weird feeling to say the least since it wasn’t like him at all. He watched quietly as you fawned over the little puppy, wondering when was the last time you looked at him the way you are looking at the puppy right now. In his eyes, the little creature had all of a sudden became infinitely and significantly less adorable.

“So... So do I.” He gave you a small smile.

“I bought some snacks too,” you began and immediately, Changmin lit up.

“Snacks?” The happiness in his voice was clear but it dulled as he noticed the strange look you were giving him.

“I meant for the puppy, silly.” You chuckled, drawing a bag of dog biscuits from your bagpack and the smile fell off his face faster than the excitement that bubbled in his heart earlier.

Changmin could only take the biscuit from you wordlessly, his eyes observing your every move. The way your face was so radiant and all smiles with the puppy and your melodious laughs that rang through the apartment as the puppy licked at your face. Subconsciously, he began to chew listlessly at the biscuit in his hand.

What was this feeling?

He was so deep in thought that he barely realised the look of horror that passed over your face.

“Changmin! Is that the dog biscuit you’re eating?!”

“Y/n! Shall we go for some waffles later at the new café down the street?”

Changmin bounded up to you from behind, enveloping you in a back hug as you leaned back in your seat from studying.

You could only shook your head as you patted his arm which was draped over your shoulders.

“I can’t. I have to finish these project slides and then take Nana for a walk.” You sighed, not noticing the slight frown on his face.

“Can’t you take Nana for a walk after?” He asked in an apprehensive tone.

“I can’t. He’s been growing impatient for the past hour, I have to.”

“But it’s waffles...”

“I know Changmin, we can always go after?” A grin tugged at your lips as Nana scurried into the room towards you and you rubbed his fluffy head lovingly.

For a moment, Changmin didn’t say a word but eventually, he relented reluctantly.

“Fine...”

As he left the room, he couldn’t help but shoot the Nana a glare. Closing the door behind him, the jealousy and possessiveness threatened to overwhelm him as he leaned despondently against the door

It seemed like you never did have much time for him anymore. You were almost always busy with school and when you weren’t you were preoccupied with Nana. Of course, he loved Nana too but not when the little pupper was taking up so much of your time. Unexpectedly, it stirred up this clingy side of him he never knew he had.

Smacking himself on the forehead, he chastised himself.

“What are you doing, Ji Changmin? Getting all clingy and jealous because of a dog?”

Yet, he couldn’t help himself. Staring at the polaroid picture of Nana you had pinned up on the refrigerator door in the kitchen from afar, Changmin narrowed his eyes as he puffed his cheeks in annoyance.

“I love you Nana, but...” He straightened, “it’s on.”

Over the next few days, you weren’t particularly looking out for any sort of weird activities going on around the house but it didn’t take long for you notice something slightly amiss even as you were indulging in your work.

Was it just you or was Changmin acting a lot more... Clingy?

Whenever you were busy working on something on your laptop, he would pop by randomly with all sorts of baked treats or snacks and proceed to hang out in your room with you. Since he knew you were the type to prefer total silence when you were working, Changmin would just lounge around in the room, essentially doing nothing and just trying to keep you company. What was very strange, was the fact that he seemed to be becoming almost too attentive to Nana’s every need. At times, it would feel almost as if he didn’t want you to have any form of interaction with the little puppy.

Changmin would insist on walking Nana, holding Nana and even showering the feisty ball of fluff which the both of you knew could become such a long ordeal. When you did have the time to hang out with Nana, he would grow quieter and even if he may not notice what he was doing, you could somehow feel his gaze on you when you played with the puppy. It was odd to say the least and secretly, you wondered if he was okay.

On a particular day, you were busy jotting down some notes from an online lecture you had when he burst into the room with a wide dimpled smile on his face and a plate of cinnamon buns in his hands.

“Y/n, I brought you some treats fresh from the bakery! Here you go,” he chirped, gingerly placing the plate next to you and taking a seat on your bed. Smiling at him appreciatively, you accepted the treat as you mumbled your thanks.

“Where’s Nana?” You asked carefully, your mouth full of cinnamon goodness.

You didn’t miss the look of disappointment that briefly flashed across his face which he quickly concealed with a grin.

“Nana’s sleeping after playing at the park earlier. Our boy really got invested in our game of Fetch.”

“Right,” you replied and before you could help yourself you asked, “are you just going to hang around in my room again?”

The words must have sounded less harsh in your mind than they did when actually spoken aloud because Changmin’s smile dropped almost instantly as his eyes widened instinctively. You felt your heart drop when you saw the look of hurt in those eyes.

“Um, do you not want me around?”

“No, no! That’s not what I meant!” You rushed forward, reaching out to hold his hands in yours.

His expression softened at your touch and with those large, soulful doe eyes, he stared into yours as he laced his fingers between yours.

“Then what is it?” He asked cautiously.

You looked at your clasped hands.

“I was just wondering why you’re suddenly so affectionate is all. Why are you suddenly like this since Nana’s arrival?” You said softly, tightening your grip on his hand and feeling him stiffen at your question.

“Is there something you are not telling me?”

“I just...” Changmin trailed off, his face turning red at an alarming rate.

“I... I... hate how you don’t really have time for me anymore.” He whispered in a soft voice with his head downcast so he didn’t see the surprise in your face.

“I don't know why I even think this way, I’m sorry if this just makes me look weird but I feel like even before Nana joined our little family, you were already too busy to be able to spend time with me but when our little boy came around, it felt like we weren't even physically together much anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I love Nana and always will but I just wish we could spend a little more time together, just you and me.” Changmin admitted and you felt your heart drop.

You would never have realised just how much you were neglecting him until he pointed it out and realising that only now, you couldn’t help but feel extremely sorry for him. You knew that he loved spending time with you as a couple and to treat him so carelessly, you felt almost guilty.

“I’m sorry, Changmin. I really am.” You said softly, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. Jolting, he almost jumped back from surprise but he melded into the hug quickly.

“It’s ok, love.” He said and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“I promise I’ll try to spend more time with you! I’ll devote an equal amount of time to my boys!” You laughed, holding up three fingers in a girls’ scout salute style to which he chuckled merrily, his eyes shining with amusement.

“You don’t have to be so serious about it! I guess all I needed was some reassurance.” Changmin said, holding your hands in his as he rubbed your fingers gently.

“So do you mean to say now that you’ve got that reassurance, you won't be giving me any special treatment anymore?”

You raised an eyebrow at him playfully, causing him to shoot you a rather affronted look.

“I’m offended, y/n. Those came from the heart.”

“Sure, it did.” You teased, pinching his cheeks to which he scrunched up his nose cutely at.

The moment between the two of you was interrupted by barking from the kitchen, followed by a crash. Standing up, you were about to investigate what had happened when Changmin held onto your wrist.

“Hey, it’s ok. I’ll go check it out, you focus on your work and enjoy that cinnamon bun. I’ll settle everything.” He smiled warmly before stepping out. Peeking out from the ajar door, you watched as he lifted Nana up, his melodious laughs ringing through the apartment.

“Aw, Nana! Look what you did!”

You felt your heart flutter as he fussed over Nana.

Maybe this time, it’s your turn to become the clingy one.

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 years

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The Walk

The Pool | The Difference | The Notes | The Fear | The Thought | The Question | Masterlist Pairing: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Reader Rating: Explicit - 18+ only Warnings: None? Besides cursing. Notes: F l u f f y Also the way this one is styled is that each section flows into the other, so the line of (most) of the previous sections is the same as the beginning of the following. Summary: “I’m serious! I really didn’t think you two would last. And I mean that in the nicest way possible,” Nick insists, looping his arm around your shoulder as he steers you toward the bar you all go to after work.

“Ooh, how about yellow? It’s real popular now,” Isobel bumps her hip against yours as you steer Lissie’s carriage. You wrinkle your nose. “I don’t know… I want a color that can suit everyone. Jewel tones seem a little safer? Or maybe like a… A grey, like a slate grey,” You offer. “What’s Ben think?” Nadia asks. “He said he doesn’t care about the colors and to call him in when it’s time to pick the DJ and the cake,” You roll your eyes. “Sounds like Ben,” Isobel snickers.

“How many bridesmaids are you gonna have again?” Nadia asks as the three of you leave the park. “Mm, well, you, Megan, and Iz, obviously, and my cousin’s gonna fly in from home… And yeah, that’s it.” “Smaller’s the way to go,” Isobel shook her head. “That one had ten bridesmaids. Ten,” Nadia pointed to Isobel. “Yow,” You muttered, “That’s… That is a lot of people.” “Ten in yellow, imagine,” Nadia teased. “Can’t even picture myself in yellow.” “Have you started looking at dresses yet?”

“Funny, Isobel asked me the same thing a couple of days ago-- This one?” You glance back at Borracho for confirmation as you point at a box of cereal. He nods in confirmation and you pluck it off of the shelf. You set the box down in the cart he’s pushing before crossing it off of your list. “Well?” He asks. “Hm? Oh-- Why are you asking?” You raise a brow at him. He shrugs a shoulder. “Just wondering. You want me to be involved, right?” “Uh huh,” You smile, “And I’ve…Done some Googling, yeah.” “Seen anything you like?” “Maybe.”

Borracho looks down at you. “With you, that means yes,” He accuses, and you smile. He knows you too well. “Not a specific dress, just like… Style and stuff.” “I’m willing to bet you’ve got a folder full of research.” “I’m willing to bet that you just walked past three items on our list because you’re more focused on my dress. Back the cart up, mister.” Borracho chuckles and glances behind himself, backing up and stopping when you put your hand on the cart. “Ah, of course. How could I have walked past this?” He teases as you step around to grab your hot sauce. “I don’t know, but it worries me,” You retort, glancing back at him. You pause, freezing, before you turn wide eyes up at Borracho. He frowns. “What is it, sweetness?” “I just got a great idea for the wedding favors.” He looks at you, and then at the bottle of hot sauce in your hands. “No.” --

“I’m serious! I really didn’t think you two would last. And I mean that in the nicest way possible,” Nick insists, looping his arm around your shoulder as he steers you toward the bar you all go to after work. You roll your eyes. “You all had a pool going on how long we’d last, didn’t you.” Nick doesn’t answer that, so you follow it up with, “How much did you lose?” “... A bit.” You raise a brow. “And then a bit more.” You scoff, laughing. “God, you’re a shithead. All’a you are shitheads.” “I knew you’d last when he was in the hospital, though,” Nick adds, “When you asked if we’d killed the guy that had done it.” “You asked that?” You glance back at Borracho, who’s caught up with you two. You hadn’t even heard him coming. “... I was just wondering,” You admit, catching hold of his hand with yours, “And I was pissed.” “What would you have done if they hadn’t?” He asks, intertwining your fingers. “Let’s maybe not think about that, babe.” “Hey-- Hey hey hey,” Henderson squeezes in beside the three of you, and you’re now effectively blocking off the sidewalk, “You gonna be mad if we take your man to the strip club?” “Dude,” Connors hisses behind you. You roll your eyes. Tonight is Borracho’s bachelor party. “S’alright. It’s not like his sisters are taking me to church,” You point out. It’s also your bachelorette party. “He won’t be in the dog house?” Nick confirms, stunned. You shrug, “He knows who he’s coming home to and I trust him.” Borracho draws you out of Nick’s arm and under his own, pressing a kiss to your temple, murmuring, “You know I love you, right?” -- “I know, baby. I love you, too,” You murmur, wrapping your arms around his waist. You’re a little tipsy, you’re not afraid to admit it, but you’re in a damn good mood. The rehearsal went fine, the rehearsal dinner was great. You didn’t expect your families to get along so well, but the Magalons have welcomed your family with open arms, and your family has been equally warm. It’s been a little over a year since Borracho has proposed. You’re getting married tomorrow. Tomorrow. It feels too good to be real. The two of you are taking your time walking to the parking lot. You’ve decided to spend the night before the wedding apart - Borracho at your apartment, and you at the wedding suite at the hotel. “You excited for tomorrow?” You glance up at him. He grins down at you. “Excited for you to be my wife, sweetness,” He murmurs. You place your hand on his chest to stop him moving and lean up for a kiss. He draws you in, brushing his lips warmly over yours before he dips his tongue into your mouth. You lean against him, sighing as his grip tightens on you. “C’mon, girly! You can kiss him all you want tomorrow!” Nadia calls from where she’s waiting for you deeper in the parking lot. You chuckle, unable to help it. Borracho leans away, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmurs. “Yes you will,” You agree, “A whole lot.” Borracho laughs, leaning in and pecking your lips again. -- You’re walking down the aisle alone. A few moments ago, you had a death grip on the bouquet, but now you can see Borracho, and your shoulders have relaxed, your grip has loosened. You didn’t have cold feet, you had jitters, knowing everyone would be staring at you. That doesn’t matter now. Because sure, there are people staring, but they’re your family and friends, and they’re all there to support you and Borracho. And he’s watching you, grinning, and lifting a hand to swipe away a tear. If it were any other day, you’d put money down on the guys giving him shit for that later. It’s not any other day, though. -- You each walked down the aisle alone; you walk back up the aisle together.

#Benny Borracho #Benny Borracho Magalon #Benny Borracho x Reader #Benny Borracho x You #Benny Borracho Magalon/You #Benny Borracho Magalon x Reader #Benny Borracho Magalon x You #Benny Borracho Magalon/Reader #Benny Borracho/You #Benny Borracho/Reader #Den of Thieves

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