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irisesand · 2 years

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for the last fifteen minutes of friendships day, i just want to talk about a few moments with my friends. these moments truly remind me of just how beautiful friendships are supposed to be.

1. recently, I've been trying to relearn my state's language and I was met in a situation where I had to use my limited knowledge of the language to try communicating with someone. when I got home, the first thing I did was send one of my friends who knows the language a long voice mail speaking IN the language but it was completely battered and bruised. and all she did was tell me how shocked she was about how 'good' I spoke and that's all the validation I needed, that's all the encouragement I needed. i now send that friend voicemails speaking in the language and I don't feel shame about how bad I speak.

2. yesterday, I sent my best friend a big voicemail about some emotional turmoil I was feeling. even though she told me that she's bad at providing people with comfort when they rant to her, she sat through the whole voicemail and tried comforting me. she kept being on my side while I let it all out when it was almost midnight and she had college the next day. she told me she had to go to bed, but would respond to me instantly. and the next day she sent me many words of encouragement before i even woke up.

3. I reconnected with one of my old friends from three years ago, and we instantly fell back into that pattern of talking. recently, I was taking a break from social media (you see i do this often, because I want some sanity in my brain in tact). and when I came back, the first thing I tweeted was "hey, do you have whatsapp?" because I wanted to talk to her more often but didn't want to be on social media much. and not even a second later, she sends me a dm with her number, and asks me if I'm okay and reassures me that things will be fine and that she's here for me.

4. a few months ago, I had been feeling an extreme amount of loneliness. I would often text this one friend of mine that i lost contact with and that once steady flow that ignited our friendship had seemingly disappeared. and it truly broke my heart, and I didn't want to let her know bc I didn't want to concern her. but one day, the sadness was too much to take and I was feeling this overwhelming grief over all the friendships that I lost over the years, and I just texted her a few messages about it. I didn't expect anything at all. but the next time I logged in I saw she sent me a few voicemail and in those she gently explained to me that it's okay and that sometimes friendships can't be the same, but it's no one's fault, and that people just tend to get busy. I will probably never forget that bc I cannot tell you how much I needed that.

5. I have these three friends that are my absolute constant for about three years. my ride or die, my pillars, they constitute so much of my life and my love. no matter how difficult life gets, I can always turn to them. I will always be there for them as they are for me. they mean more to me than the entire world. the gentleness of our friendship.

6. my other friend has had her exams for a whole month now, and I have been absolutely broken bc i missed her sm but i didn't want to disturb her. or give her anything else to worry about. so I would leave a message every now and then asking her to take care and if her exams are over yet. and yesterday, her exams were finally done. and as i was thinking of texting her, she sends me a message in all caps "hi bestie, I'm here" I love her so much.

7. just a few days ago, i was telling my friend recently about something stupid like how I asked my other friend who's studying medical to become a dentist bc of the absolute nightmarish fear of the dentist. and my med student friend literally said that she can't now but never said no. and i told my friend, who's also afraid of the dentist, this and she agreed to this insanity.

8. recently I became friends with the most beautiful and kind souls online. she's from my country, and from the first day I texted her, we never ran out of things to talk about (knock on wood). but I think she's the coolest person ever and I LOVE talking to her because she's able to say the most beautiful and kind things to me. just today, I was responding to her messages from days ago. and she told me that she would love if I had been in her college or atleast find someone like me in her college. she also asked for when my birthday is bc there are too many birthdays in august and she wanted to note mine down in her dairy.

#rooney ☆#the human condition #essay rants #friendships #i love my friends #female friendships are beautiful #actually this took more than fifteen minutes #but doesnt matter #im so grateful #truly

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tuber-culosis · 3 years

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I've been reading through a lot of radfem blogs and posts lately. and gotta say, i'm leaning a lot towards radical feminism. And im definitely gender critical.

but one topic I want to talk about in particular is the criticism of Islam.

Which I feel is totally valid considering the current state of mainstream islam and Muslims.

Mainstream Islam (is what you see on all social media, seemingly practised by a lot of Muslims) IS sexist. And homophobic. There's no use denying it, neither do I think I'm a bad Muslim for not supposedly defending my own religion. You have to recognise the flaws in your own system to improve and progress.

Then arises the question why am I still Muslim then/ why do I still practise Islam? If I recognise the way it is practised is sexist and homophobic, which are things I'm against?

The difference lies in my belief that "mainstream Islam" is much different from the root of Islam.

Many (read: a LOT, not all) modern Muslims have been influenced by ultra conservative movements that want to return Islam to the way they believe was practised during the time of the Prophet (pbuh), ie; some centuries back. This is propagated by the ideas of Salafism and Wahhabism that frankly, prevent progress, reform or any sort of growth in Muslim communities.

I personally have witnessed this in my own country, India, where women are increasingly wearing the hijab and even full body covering purdahs, not talking to the opposite gender, men not looking a woman other than their wives in the eye, etc compared to when my mother was a child, when almost all Muslim women dressed in normal comfortable clothes and there were no much gender segregations. (Gender segregation still existed to a certain degree due to conservative Indian culture ofc)

This radicalisation led to the development of ultra conservative Muslims who enforce sexist, homophobic and separatist policies in the name of God.

They claim to want to return to "true Islam" but they add so many unnecessary rules and regulations you have to follow in order to be a "true Muslim" that are almost so impossible to follow I can vouch I have unconciously broken like 50 of them in one day maybe. These "laws" are derived from:

1. The hadith

2. Arab culture

3. Poor translation of the Quran to fit these radical ideals.

Explaining each of these in a little more detail,

1. A lot of practising Muslims might come at me for this one, but I feel that considering the hadith to be a holy source of guidance and believing everything in the Hadith when there are so many contradictions and logical fallacies, is foolish.

For those who have no clue what the hadith is, Islam basically has the Qur'an, which is, as we believe, a holy book revealed by God to the Prophet (pbuh), which acts as divine guidance on how to live life as a good person. It has rules, suggestions, and guidance to take desicions on a lot of everyday matters we face. It was a godsend (hehe pun fully intended) to women, who weren't even allowed to own property back then. Muslims believe that the Quran is guaranteed againt corruption by God, as revealed in one of the verses. Therefore, to a believer, it is THE book to consult, and the verses will never change, no matter how many years pass. There's actually a really interesting way the Quran is coded, so people can know if it has been tampered with or not, if anyone is interested. But the bottom line is, for a Muslim, the verses of Quran cannot be challenged. There are various INTERPRETATIONS of said verses, but the core Arabic text is the same.

Now there is a secondary source of guidance in the form of Hadith, which is literature that claims to record things the Prophet (pbuh) has said in his lifetime. The problem I find, along with other hadith critics, is that it was compiled much later after the death of the Prophet. Muslims argue that these hadiths were passed down in a proper recorded chain of transmitters that can assure the message hasn't been altered or tampered with. The problem is, that the standard used then was just how reliable was a person's memory and how trustworthy they were, and they did not actually judge the actual content of the hadith. So even if a hadith hypothetically said "Kill all the disbelievers", (which, fyi, it does NOT) and it had a reliable chain of recorders, it would be accepted as "sahih" (trustworthy) hadith, even though it clearly goes against the guidelines of the Quran, where it says there shall be no compulsion in religion (which implies you cannot just murder anyone who refuses to believe/ believes another religion). If one actually examined the content of this imaginary hadith, it would be easy to see it's tampered with by people with or without malicious intent (for eg, it might've actually been "You can kill the disbelievers ONLY if they attack you and will not leave you and your family alone") or some may not even remotely be the words of the Prophet, as he only followed the Quran.

Also, the integrity of the Hadith isn't guaranteed by God anywhere in the Quran. To know more about this, I suggest you read this link , and this one.

So yeah, I take hadith with a (large) grain of salt. So I will not be including them in my discussion obviously.

Now a lot of these hadith have been fabricated, as established, or reflect something that was applicable specifically in that time and setting, seeing that the Prophet was an ordinary man who couldn't predict the future or know about all the different cultures of the world.

So even if the headscarf was a part of Arabian attire, that doesn't mean it has to be assimilated into our cultures now. Just because prostitutes used to pluck all their eyebrows out to signify that they are prostitutes (sex work is forbidden in Islam, because of the negative impact on women and society), doesn't mean that women are not allowed to pluck their eyebrows now.

Following these hadith blindly without considering for a moment that hey, these might be outdated, seeing it isn't meant for all time periods like the Quran, and half of these contradict themselves, maybe we shouldn't consider this as an authority on rules in Islam. Personally, I don't believe anything is forbidden that is mentioned as such solely in the Hadith, and not in the Quran.

But the staunch belief in all of these Hadith leads to micromanaging of women, and literally everyone else. Few ridiculous examples include:

women can't pluck their eyebrows

men can't wear silk or gold, and they need to grow beards

music and dance is forbidden (seriously???)

the Prophet married a literal child of nine years (no do not try to justify it as "it was acceptable back then". According to the Qur'an it wasn't. Girls had to be mature enough to reject or agree to marriages and literal children can't do that. There is plenty of research to prove that Aisha (ra), his wife, was at the very least 19 or 20. Again a case of unreliable and maybe purposefully manipulated Hadith. Scholars and people who uphold the theory that Aisha was 9, and hence, child marriage is legal are pedophiles through and through)

I feel that if anything, hadith should be considered with the authority of historical commentary, giving us more context to the times, and should never be blindly trusted just because a lot of scholars say it is a "sahih" (trusted) hadith.

Also a main feature of Islam is that you don't need an extra priest (no offence to religions who have priests) or a scholar to tell you things and intervene with God for you. You have a holy book, your own common sense and humanity, and you pray to establish a connection with God. Scholars are secondary OPINIONS who can provide insight from their knowledge and research to people who want it, but by no means any authority on things, just like hadith.

2. Arab culture and society, especially back the times that radicals want to emulate, was heavily patriarchal. Islam gave women rights and protection, but they were still limited by the cultural norms of that era.

What these people actually want is to return society to Arabic culture in that time period. (Exhibit A: the abaya/purdah for women and khandoorah for men. exhibit B: sex-segregated spaces)

Back then, women were expected to be caretakers and mothers, and men were expected to be the strong masculine protector.

Enforcing said cultural norms into modern day Islam is ridiculous. Saying that women rarely left the house back then, hence women shouldn't leave their houses now is the same as saying there weren't phones back then, so I shouldn't use one now. Would you ever give up your phones? So how about we do the same to women's autonomy and freedom? Adapt to modern times like regular humans?

If women were meant to stay at home, and meant to just rear children, and never meant to be seen in public, and never meant to be seen by the opposite sex, as extremists say "is God's will", then why is none of this found in the Quran? Do you seriously believe that God, describe multiple times as All-forgiving and generous and kind, would ever persecute women to such a fate? If you do believe that, then maybe you need to re-examine in the nature of God that you believe in. Also if you tell me the "it's for their safety" gimmick, I will flip out. It has been proved multiple times that a woman's dressing has nothing whatsoever to do with why men rape.

Sure, Islam advocates for modesty in dressing, for both sexes. Both are called to not stare rudely (many Muslim men seem to forget that part of the verse, strangely), both are advised to dress in modest, comfortable, clean and practical attire. Never once is anything remotely like "YOU'LL GO TO HELL IF YOU EXPOSE YOUR ELBOW, WOMAN". But the way modern Muslims enforce the dress code (some even going to the lengths of saying women shouldn't wear BRIGHT COLOURED CLOTHES, so as to not attract attention!!! I'm looking at you, Mufti Menk), you'd think that God says something much worse than that. Infact God pulls out Uno reverse, and encourages us to dress as beautifully as we want, especially when visiting the mosque.

3. A lot of English translations of the Quran come from Saudi Arabia. A country famous for its conservative practise of Islam. While the original Arabic text cannot be changed, a lot of these translations include information in parantheses that add "rules" based on the above mentioned factors, that a casual reader or a new Muslim who doesn't know Arabic will consider to be authentic rules of the Quran, extrapolated from the verse, and not extra additions that are often derived from hadith. A very good example of this is the headcover verse, which you can see in this link.

Even all the hostility surrounding homosexual people has been derived from cultural influences and one set of verses. From around 6000 verses, just a single set passingly mention homosexuality. Don't you think that if it truly were such a great sin, God would have explicitly forbidden it? Also why would he create such a natural variation in sexuality and then forbid it? Why isn't it forbidden for animals then? Is all-loving God that cruel to create this natural and healthy attraction in them and then explicitly forbid it when straight people get to marry and live life in bliss? (Please don't say that "God also created pedophilia, and that's natural, so by this logic shouldn't we allow that too?" because pedophilia IS NOT HEALTHY, AT ALL. IT'S IS A DISORDER. Unlike homosexuality) I'm also not picking and choosing things to fit my lifestyle, as some might say, as I am straight, and the only reason I support the LGBT community because I have basic humanity?? And they're humans who deserve rights and joy and freedom and acceptance just like the rest of us.

There have been reformed translations of Quran which examine the verse without prior bias against LGBT people, and they have presented an alternate translation, that the verse condemns sexual assault, which happened to be homosexual in the particular story. Check out this link too, which explains how closely examining the words used could change the meaning from one thing to another.

What I attempted to prove in this extremely long post is that the practise of a religion isn't necessarily the reflection of its true nature.

There are progressive open-minded people who believe in Islam because it gives them hope and solace. People who believe because core beliefs of Islam aligned with their own views and simple logic.

NOT to say there aren't religious bigots who will totally use religion to manipulate people into oppressing themselves or other people. There are, there are a LOT of people like that who call themselves "scholars". And there are a lot of people who follow these extremely harmful regressive version of Islam without critically thinking about what they are following.

I've seen a post discussing the meaning of the word Islam, which means submission to God. It said that it implies total submission, without questioning what we believe.

That is an argument used by both religious extremists to further their beliefs, and by the opposite side, who say the religion is oppressive.

I wish to present a view that Islam itself tells us to think critically, to use our brains to question everything and anything we believe. And then to arrive at our own conclusions. And if you're a decent, kind human, those beliefs maybe align with Islam (not saying that if you're not Muslim, you're horrible, that is not what I meant at all). And if the opinion between people differs, there's always logic and reasoning behind every rule that is presented in the Quran. Don't believe me? Here's the verse that tells people not to blindly follow their parents' religion. And here's a list of verses about critical thinking.

The reason we (atleast reformist Muslims) submit to God is because we questioned it, we came to the conclusion that Hey! This is right. I can submit to my Creator by, who is basically the consciousness that created everything and is the source of all goodness, love and strength, because the rules mentioned here make sense and they privde a moral framework for me to base important desicions on. They feel right. And there is logic behind everything written in this.

I don't mean to present Islam as an all-perfect amazing religion everyone should believe and that I'm right, everyone else, especially those liberal atheists who criticise my religion are wrong and WILL BURN IN HELL. I consider Islam a perfect moral framework, and that's my business only. Anyone can follow what they want and it's none of my business. In fact there is no compulsion in religion at all, and people who say Muslim or go to hell are wrong imo.

What I intended was to paint a picture of reformist Muslims who are still out there, who follow the religion because they questioned it. And not the religion as this stringent rule book we all have to follow down to a t, micromanaging every aspect of our lives and living in perpetual fear of hell, but rather this basic moral guide that teaches us tact, compassion and justice, to bring us closer to God spiritually. I wanted to show that the majority isn't always reflective of what I think is the true core of Islam.

I feel that many practises in the name of Islam are highly questionable and should be criticized, but I also want people to know that the people who seemingly represent the religion, are not representative of the entire mass of believers. That sometimes the practises you might criticize might have nothing to do with the actual religion, atleast according to some of us. It was also for fellow Muslims who might be in the same place I was a few years ago, questioning everything I had learnt was part of my religion.

This is also NOT to undermine struggles of people forced to follow Islam and its seeming requirements like hijab. This is not to claim that nope, every Muslim is fine and ok, and we're all peaceful progressive people. In fact I wish to do the exact opposite, to show that people who enforce oppressive policies in the name of Islam aren't actually backed by the religion and neither should they be backed by other Muslims. I'm also not trying to say no one should criticize Islam. Criticism helps us grow. Criticism is necessary to uncover oppression and eradicate it. So by all means, criticize.

I'm so glad I found the subreddit r/progressive_Islam when I did because it helped me a lot, and opened me to other like-minded progressive Muslims, who actively hope to counter the negative effects of Salafism and conservatism that is overtaking Islam.

So yeah, I think I covered almost everything I wanted to talk about and here's a final link that pretty much just states my position on things.

PS idk why this thingy is in different colours it just seemed cooler and less boring to read

#religion #islamicpost #radfem #gender critical #muslim #progressive #change #critical thinking #sexism #feminism #feminist #allies #humanity #extremism #womenempowerment #freewomen #headcovering #mine

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hacash · 3 years

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ted lasso 2x09 thoughts

ARGH

those are it. those are my thoughts.

Ok, slightly more coherently…

Sam’s getting recognition! Sam has his own chant! I love that for him. Love it all. It’s obviously so good that Sam is becoming an in-universe hero when we’ve loved him from his first scene - however, that also comes with the caveat of not wanting him to move anywhere from Nelson Road. I’m curious to see where they take it though, because I obviously can’t see Toheeb Jimoh leaving the cast before the show finishes, but at the same time this offer is so good for him?? I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.

(If, on the other hand, Toheeb is being written out because he’s going on to star as a lead in another show where we could see more of his beautiful face and stellar acting every week? I would find that acceptable.)

Screeners’ reactions for this episode had me thinking something cataclysmic and dreadful was going to happen between Sam and Rebecca with them reuniting and it hitting the papers - and it ended up being fine?? Of course she’s torn about him leaving. Even if they end up never being together again Sam clearly represents something wonderful to Rebecca - possibility and the sense of being treated right - and those feelings don’t just go away.

I expected a bit more reaction from Ted about the whole Sambecca thing, but that little look in his eyes after their conversation did have me curious - does he disapprove more than he lets on? is he secretly pining for Rebecca already? only time will tell. also I did notice Ted was once again basically saying whatever Rebecca wanted to hear and agreeing at every single line - he might be going to therapy but he’s not out of the people-pleaser woods yet.

Another bombshell next year? OH COME ON. If that’s not a prediction of some sort of confession of love I will go out and buy a hat just to eat it.

SHARON. How I am going to miss thee. But it was a lovely and understated farewell to a character that I’ve really come to love - Sexy Mother Fucker; he stole my move, yaas - showing how much she and Ted have helped each other grow and I just *tear*. Also I’m a Tedbecca shipper through and through, but Jason and Sarah do have such lovely chemistry together.

Also the pub regulars basically pleading for free therapy? Aww.

Higgins luring Ted back to read Sharon’s note with a well-chosen letter based pun? I love this man to the ends of the earth.

I FUCKING KNEW THAT HIGGINS KNEW EVERYONE’S BIRTHDAY. I PREDICTED THAT SHIT.

Roy and Keeley…I’m sorry, I’m emotional and anxious and hopeful and I do not think they’re going to break up. Relationships go through messy spots and people struggle, and the mark of a good, communicative, grown-up relationship is that you take time and discuss your issues and move past them. Keeley and Roy’s relationship has always been characterised by that maturity, and I just don’t see a couple of ill-timed romance confessions breaking that down.

(If anything, we might get a discussion from Roy about Keeley trusting him - I’m guessing there’s a fair bit of time lapsed between Jamie’s confession and her telling all to Roy, and I can see that being the sticking point that upsets Roy, that she hid this from him for some time. He clearly didn’t feel at all upset by what happened with Nate; it’s the - arguably fair - point that Keeley didn’t let him know that her ex confessed love for her that I think is going to be the issue.)

Also, the ‘are you married’ question - coupled with the fact that we keep seeing Roy on his knees in front of Keeley - makes me think we’re going to get a proposal next episode.

Also I love that we’re seeing more of Keeley’s psyche beyond the ‘cute and supports everyone’ façade - her mother’s experience with ambition and not being able to achieve it is a really interesting little snippet, not to mention the reason she bonds so much with Nate and is able to see how someone seemingly ‘undeserving’ should be able to realise their dreams.

also her and Rebecca’s ‘bleargggggh!’ competition! and Ted thinking he was going to be on the cover of Vanity Fair! return of Biscuits with the Boss!

ok, deep breaths now

NAAAAAATE

WHAT ARE YOU DOOIIIIIIING

Is it bad that I sort of liked the whole thing with Keeley? Not in a ‘yes I want this to happen’ sort of way, but because it makes so much sense that Nate (particularly Nate in his current state) might mistake that level of bonding and emotional support as something romantic. We know Nate is insecure and hasn’t had much of a social life in the past, and that he idealises Keeley for her basic kindness and decency: much like Jamie in 2x10, he’s mistaking Keeley’s kindness as something more…it’s absolutely gutting to watch, and also so human and real that I can’t help but take my hat off to the writers for it.

(Honestly, there’s been so many posts on tumblr about how toxic masculinity fucks men over to such an extent that when they receive kindness and friendship for a woman they immediately think romance - but yeah. this show does tick all the boxes.)

I did see the kiss moment coming a mile away and was really worried that Nate was going to be…uh, very entitled about it, given his current state, but the fact that he wasn’t - that he was immediately horrified and realised he’d fucked up and stumbles away muttering about how he ‘is worried about it’ and ends the scene spitting at himself in the mirror again and looking absolutely disgusted with himself - well, in a way that just hurt more. (I mean, I’m relieved Nate wasn’t all bolshy with it because his reaction does show there is still some of the old Nate still there…but still, owch.)

And then that text from Trent…

Next episode is going to hurt like hell, isn’t it? I absolutely cannot wait for the showdown between Nate and Ted, it’s been a long time coming…like I’ve said, while I think ultimately Nate is going to have a redemption arc, because thematically it makes sense and would send some pretty iffy messages if he doesn’t, I don’t think it’ll come until season three. Right now I just want to see Ted get angry after several seasons of suppressing his anger, I want a full-blown emotional hash-out between them both - basically I want Jason and Nick to have me sobbing before 9AM.

My one question is: are we going to see Nate realising what he’s done, or not? Was this a pragmatic, doing-this-for-the-sake-of-the-club betrayal or a blind, lashing-out-in-frustration betrayal? In short: is Nate Lando or Anakin in this scenario?

I’m very curious as to what show people who say this ‘came out of nowhere’ have been watching. Nate’s been heading for some sort of implosion since mid-season, and we all knew it was going to hurt some innocent bystanders.

I’m saving something light and cheery after all the angst, so let me just say: cinema has never surpassed, and will never surpass, the scene of the Richmond boys dancing along to Bye Bye Bye. Almost made up for the fact that they were criminally underused in the rest of the episode, and quite frankly this had better be redressed in the season finale.

and WE FINALLY SAW COLIN DRIVING THE LAMBO. I don’t know what I find funnier: the fact that it’s some neon lime green monstrosity that every fourteen-year old boy would have dreamt of owning growing up (should my new Colin tag be Colin ‘I Need To Rethink My Relationship With My Car’ Hughes, or Colin ‘More Money Than Sense’ Hughes? enquiring minds want to know…) or as was pointed out to me by @kamillahn, the look of absolute terror on Colin’s face as he begins to drive. Colin, hun, please just buy yourself a Fiat. It’s not worth it anymore.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #the little things

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fbfh · 3 years

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light up the dark [V] - leo x reader

genre: romance + action + enemies to lovers kinda

word count: 2.4k

au: none

pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader

requested: yes teehee

warnings: spoilers for HOO but like what’s new, at least one fuck, mentions of breakfast foods and burger king, one “cranberry fucknut”, brief visit to a historical memorial site, I think that’s it????

summary: you have a very weird dream that leads you to realize you’re actually on some kind of quest! very fun! you, Leo, and Jason follow a lead, find out Chiron’s sending you guys some backup, and realize you’re going to need a very large airbnb

listen to: making mirrors - gotye aka the best dream sequence music

also we’re the rats. it’s not relevant just living in my brain.

a/n: honest to god it tookme so long to write this i forget what happens in the first half rip

also requests r open uwu

Your dream is unnerving, and not just because you had spent years in a dreamless sleep and forgot what dreaming was like. Okay, partially because of that, but also because of the atmosphere.

You’re standing in a dark room. It’s pitch black, but you can make out the shape of the room, which is unusual to say the least. It’s long and rectangular, and the ceiling has cylindrical indents, almost as if giant logs were supposed to fit there. The indents go across the short side, with another in front of it, like a rope bridge across a river. Giant curved metallic discs like flat mushrooms are embedded in the ground at regular intervals.

You get the feeling something’s missing. You stare up at the ceiling trying to get more information, when something hot and glowing presses against the roof. It shines through, casting everything in a strange pink light. You can’t see it, but you know what it is. A translucent sundial that gave off a glowing orange cast.

Sunstone.

You look back down not wanting to hurt your eyes, and they fall on someone else in the room. He hadn’t been there a second ago. He’s blonde, and looking up at the ceiling, seemingly unbothered by the blinding light.

“He has it,” he says, wistfully, almost regretfully.

"Who?" You question.

"I can't pronounce his name, no one can."

"How can we get it back if we can't find him?" He smiles, liking how you know what he needs you to do before he even tells you.

"I can't tell you his name, but he's very old… some may even say archaic…" He looks at you with intention, searching for a spark of understanding. He doesn’t find what he’s looking for, and continues, “and not far from here. Which is good, since I need you to get it back for me.”

“How do we find it?” He tosses you a small, clear container filled with what looks like yellow slime. You look at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“It’s a drop of sunshine,” he explains, “don’t touch it or you’ll burn up. It’ll glow when you get closer to what you’re looking for.” You tuck it in your jacket pocket.

“Can-”

Before you can get out the rest of the sentence, you feel like you’re being pulled out of deep water. Your eyes shoot open, and you take in a quick breath through your nose. You open and close your eyes a few times, and push yourself into a sitting position. There’s a weight on your stomach and you trace the hand back to Jason, who had gently nudged you awake moments ago. His mouth is open and there’s a stale smile, like he was about to tell you to rise and shine. Your stare is unwavering, and he retracts his hand.

“Uh… breakfast is ready,” he says, turning back and heading over to the couch.

“Kay,” you mutter, still groggy and disoriented. Maybe sleep just isn’t for you. Jason hesitates about half way across the room, noticing the lack of cat-like vengefulness in your tone of voice.

“...You okay?” he asks softly.

“Fine, just a weird dream,” you roll your shoulders, back sore and stiff, to try and loosen the two stubborn knots just below your shoulder blades. His eyebrows furrow at your words and you continue, “I’m starting to think I should add a little chloroform to my sleepy time tea.”

“What happened?” he asks, sounding way more serious than you’d expected.

“I dunno, I-” he cut you off, calling for Leo. Jason encourages you to tell them what you’d dreamed about as in depth as possible once Leo comes in from the sitting area, so you don’t have time to gauge how he seems after last night. You feel a little silly trying to describe a surreal dream to them, especially since they seem to be paying such rapt attention. After recalling as many details as you could, they sat in silence for a minute. They share a look, then sigh in unison. Jason pushes up his glasses and squeezes the bride of his nose as Leo lets out a soft ‘fuck’.

“I’ll go iris message Chiron, Leo, do you want to get some food and offerings to burn?” Jason says. Leo agrees, and Jason’s already in the sitting area, misting water in the air with a squirt bottle. Leo puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Why don’t you get dressed, I already made some coffee,” he says, the spike of hesitance that shot through his stomach at his instigated physical contact dissolving when you nod sleepily. An unusually warm feeling clouds through you, less distant and detached than normal. You realize while digging through your bag that for whatever reason, you didn’t hate the feeling of Leo’s hand on your shoulder. You grab your clothes from your bag, and feel a weight in your jacket. You reach into the pocket, and pull out the “slime” from your dream. It glows briefly, fading as you walk towards the bathroom. Huh, you think, at least now we know what to look for. You’re grateful for the example as you get dressed and freshen up, wondering what the hell happens next.

Burning the food doesn’t take long. Leo throws the extra breakfast they’d ordered onto the metal table on the patio, except for a piece of toast he held in his hands. He summons fire until the toast is engulfed in flames, and drops it with the rest. He fans the smoke and asks for guidance, protection, typical pre quest stuff. After a minute or two, he pours out a pitcher of water to extinguish the flames, and heads back into the sitting area with Jason. On his way, he watches you through the open bathroom door for a second as you put on your makeup. You sure are different from girls he’d liked in the past. A strong twinge of pain from the previous night makes him flinch. He shoves it away, and takes a seat, greeting Chiron through iris message. Jason had just finished filling him in on the dream and the sundial, and he looks worried.

“I was afraid this might be the case. I'd gotten word that something like this might have happened, but I hoped it was just hearsay… I'm sorry boys, but you're most definitely on a mission from the gods. The story behind that sundial is long and complicated; in summary, if Apollo does not have his sundial by june, summer cannot happen."

"Wh- like, time will stop?" Leo says.

"Will it just skip to autumn?" Jason adds.

"What about Persephone?"

"Can Demeter do anything?"

Chiron holds up his hands to quiet them.

"I wish I could say, but no one really knows what will happen, only that we do not wish to find out."

"So, what do we do?" Jason asks.

"Who can I send?" Chiron says to himself, "Dear gods, this is… unfortunate."

"Chiron," Jason says again, getting his attention.

"Right, I'm sorry my boy, this whole situation is… preoccupying." Jason agrees, and asks what they should do next.

"Get as much information as you can from what Apollo has told you. I'll gather some people to send over at once, they'll be on their way shortly. This is most distressing…" he trails off, lost in thought again, and the iris message cuts out. Jason's stomach is in knots.

After freshening up, you get dressed, having chosen your clothes deliberately before. If shit’s about to hit the fan, which it looks like it is, you’re going to need a strong balance of comfortable and kick ass. Plus, it’s still the cold part of spring, and New England weather is no joke.

You assess yourself in the mirror, satisfied with your choice; half black half gray cargo pants with chain belts, a long sleeved fishnet top with a black crop top over it, and one of your favorite pairs of platform boots. You topped it off with a layered choker studded with black jewels and delicate chains, asymmetrical earrings - one attached to an ear cuff, the other dangling - and a ring that looks like a snake wrapped around your finger. Last but not least, a dark olive green bomber jacket with ‘god save the queen’ written on the back in paint.

Your mind wanders as you lean closer to the mirror, laser focused on perfecting your eyeliner. The memory of Leo’s hand on your shoulder creeps back up, and your brow furrows at the panicked flush to your cheeks, wondering why you didn’t push him off.

‘Some cranberry fucknut broke his heart last night, I didn’t want him to feel worse’, you think deliberately, refusing room for any objections or alternative solutions your brain keeps offering up. You finish your makeup relatively quickly, pleased at how much better it looks when you don’t sleep in it for years. Your hair is… hanging in there, but you can’t drop everything and redye it now. At least you know what color you want next - a nice, coral tinted red. You’ll have to keep an eye out the next time you go shopping.

Finally, you’re ready. You put away your makeup and pajamas, and make your way over to the boys. You grab some coffee and pick at a muffin, the strategy session beginning.

Jason takes a sip of his own coffee, scowling at the slightly burnt taste.

“Where should we start looking? Do we have any decent leads?”

You sip your coffee, your face mirroring Jason’s moments before.

“The guy from my dream-”

“Apollo,” Jason interjects.

“Right,” you continue, “he said whoever has what we’re looking for has a really hard to pronounce name or something. Maybe we can start there.”

After some back and forth, and consulting of travel guides, you find a memorial for some historical figure with a name that definitely would have gotten him bullied.

“Wasn’t that guy a demigod?” Leo asks, and Jason confirms. You’re already checking the maps scattered around for a route.

“It looks like it’s pretty much just further west from where we are, we can probably get there pretty easily,” you remark. Jason and Leo look at you, then each other. No one has any better ideas, and at least it’s some kind of lead.

Four and a half hours later, you sat in the car in stumped silence. It took almost three hours to get up to the memorial site, an hour to look around and realize there is absolutely nothing there that can help you at all, ten minutes to debate what to do next, and twenty minutes to get burger king, since no one had eaten since breakfast.

“Well, that sucked.”

Leo and Jason give you a look, knowing you’re right.

“Yeah, it did.” Jason agrees matter of factly, earning a small chuckle from you and Leo.

“So what do we do now?” Leo asks.

“Well, no one’s around, we could probably iris message Chiron-” before he could finish his sentence, a shimmery image of a tan girl with choppy dark hair appears in front of him.

Jason and the girl - Piper, apparently - greet each other enthusiastically, then Leo follows suit. It looks like she’s in a cab, holding something at arm's length. You make it out to be a phone, probably to trick her cab driver into thinking she’s on a facetime call or something. Two other people lean over, one blonde and smiling, the other dark haired and irritable, and more greetings are exchanged. You lean slightly to the side so you’ll be out of site and hopefully won’t have to make any introductions. Leo seems to catch onto this, and when Piper’s eyes land on the edge of your shoulder.

“So did Chiron send anyone else?” he asks before she can say anything.

“Yeah,” she replies, “Frank and Hazel are coming from camp Jupiter; Frank’s flying, and Hazel’s getting a ride from Arion,” Leo and Jason nod in understanding, picking up instantly on her deliberate word choice. Christ, you’re going to have to get a bigger place than that hotel room.

“Uh… Percy and Annabeth just started spring break, so they’ll be coming soon. Hazel should get there first, for…” she glances at the cab driver, “obvious reasons, and me, Nico, and Will are on our way now, we should be there in a few hours.”

Your skin is already feeling prickly from the idea of being around that many people. They talk for a few more minutes, and Jason says he’ll tell them the specific address as soon as possible before ending the call.

Thankfully, you all had repacked the car with your bags from the hotel room before you left, just in case you needed anything, so there’s no need to make the two and a half hour trip back to the hotel. You sigh and turn to the boys.

“Why don’t we go get some groceries and stuff, and I can get us an air bnb.”

They agree, pleasantly surprised and grateful for the normalcy of something like grocery shopping, and you ask how many people there are going to be.

“Uh, should be te-”

“Eleven.” Leo says firmly. Jason looks like he’s going to say something, but he bites back whatever it is. Leo’s hands normally dance around like swirling snow, light and natural with subtle patterns if you can figure them out. But right now, his normal subconscious movements seem to be heavier, more intentional. His relaxed expression is set in stone, a silent plea to move on, act like everything’s normal, and you know he’s covering up the depth of the wound that girl left on his heart. A twinge of concern flares in your gut, and you blink, looking away.

“Okay,” you say, pulling out a pen and notepad from your bag to write out a grocery list, “Let’s go. What do we need?”

Jason pulls out of the parking lot, and begins to head to the nearest box store. Your eyes dart over to Leo involuntarily a few times, and by the time you’re almost there, he seems to be almost back to himself. Subconsciously relieved, your mind starts to wander back to the list, skimming it one more time to make sure you don’t forget anything.

Maybe you can pick up some hair dye while you’re here.

#Leo Valdez #leo x reader #leo valdez x reader #Heroes of Olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #LV light up the dark #enjoy babes teehee

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tuesdayintheservantshall · 2 years

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Okay. I’m probably not going to say this well. But I feel I’d rather say it sooner than better, so here goes.

The things we want out of fiction and find satisfying do not automatically become issues of moral value, or indicate uh, anything about us as people, just because we are currently talking about published works rather than fanfic. There are certainly conversations to be had about what narratives in a popular work have what impacts, what’s helpful representation to the most people, whatever. But that isn’t the conversation most of us are having. And maybe the things I’m seeing are directed towards conversations in that vein that I’m seeing less of. But if so, please recognize how they sound to people who are just. Talking about their personal preferences. And, sorry, it’s probably better manners to stay general and not directly “vague” specific posts, but actually I think I do need to be specific for a moment: you cannot tell how privileged someone is by what narratives they find satisfying that is not now and has never been how this works.

And as someone who was on the wrong side of this discourse when we had the slapfight after the trailer dropped? When many people were implying that it would be Bad Representation for Thomas and Richard to break up or be non-monogamous? I don’t fucking like watching the tables be turned.

And uh. I know in this fandom we often know whether a given individual in fandom is straight, gay, or other, but what we don’t and can’t know is which queer person is silently desperately agreeing with which statements, while too nervous to publicly state it. (And for every story that you might be tempted to think is “for straight people” or is only unappealing to straight people, I pinky swear there are queer people who have exactly the same preference.) So if nothing else please consider the splash damage if you’re ever tempted to say “you only think that because you’re straight”. (Also like. You don’t know it’s true, because see previous parenthetical.)

Many of us have frayed tempers right now and I get it. I mean, I recognize that comments were made on the movie-negative side that consisted of basically the same message in reverse, and they were sometimes seemingly endorsed by people who I think didn’t notice because they were busy being really unhappy with the meal they’d been served. So. I see that, I recognize it. This isn’t one-sided and probably some people on the positive side are having some “well you started it!” feelings which believe me, I get. (And to movie-negative people who have been feeling like they’re not allowed to talk about what they didn’t like - that’s part of what’s going on. Both that you may have been seeming to endorse those messages without realizing, and that because those messages came flying a little heavy when the movie first dropped, people on the positive side are pattern matching a little to earlier statements.)

I don’t have some satisfying way to wrap up this post so I’m just gonna

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

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Meeting and Dating Specs

(Please ignore how awful my gif is)(Requested via message)

(I’m so sorry I haven’t posted in a while!)

- You met Specs while walking to work in the morning. He was out selling his papers when you and a few of the other girls you worked with passed him.

- He quickly snatched the hat from his head as you walked by, eyes seemingly locking onto you even though you were in the middle of a small crowd.

- The two of you met each other’s gaze and without meaning to, your steps began to slow. A small smile found its way onto your face before you hurriedly made your way back to your group. As you reached your friends sides, you spared one last glance at the boy over your shoulder. You were secretly pleased to see that he was still watching.

- Normally Specs wouldn't linger in a selling spot for too long unless it was raking in a good profit. But let’s just say that he had a bit of an ulterior motive when returning to the area.

- Day after day, you would continue to see him while making your way to work. Your friends began to tease you about it, grabbing your arm and giggling in your ear as you passed him. You felt flattered by the attention but you still wondered if he was actually attracted to you and if so, was he ever going to approach you?

- It was after about two weeks that he finally did. You passed his usual selling spot in the morning and found that he wasn’t there. So, with a little dash of disappointment settling in your stomach, you headed off to work and went about your day.

- You walked out the doors of your work at the end of your shift, wiping your hands on your dress and pulling the hair from your face. It was then that you saw him, his body leaned casually against the wall of the building besides yours.

- He kicked himself off of the wall once he noticed you, pulling the hat off his head as he made his way over.

- He tries his hand at a polite, gentlemanly introduction, fiddling with the hat in his hands as he spoke. He “confessed” that he’d been watching you “for a little while now” and explained that he wanted to get to know you more.

- You smiled and agreed, glad that he had finally decided to try his luck with you.

- Your first date was that same day. The two of you walked around town together, getting to know each other and sweetly flirting. By the time you had to return home, you had already promised to see him again the next day.

- The two of you shared your first kiss on your fourth date. You’d been sitting together in one of the many alleyways of the city, recounting different stories from your day when you started to notice him looking closely at your face.

- You ignored it for a while, figuring that he was probably distracted by a smudge of dust or paint, something that often found its way onto your face after a long day. It wasn’t until you began to walk home together that you finally learned that there wasn’t anything on your face.

- The two of you were just about to say goodbye when he hesitated for a minute, glancing down at what you finally comprehended was your lips and asking if he could kiss you. Now, how could you say no to that?

- Pda wasn’t exactly very common back then so the two of you keep your affection to yourselves for the most part. Although the newsies are far less worried about public decency and reputations, Specs in particular is trying very hard to be a gentleman for you; at least in public.

- Forehead kisses as he wraps his arms loosely around you, keeping you close to him.

- Never ending pecks on the lips. He’ll keep moving in for another one unless you push him away.

- He’s sort of a geek compared to his fellow newsies; he doesn't do nearly as many crazy stunts as them. Maybe he’s more mature, …or maybe he’s just less coordinated than everyone else.

- Even though he’s a geek, he still does crazy/ridiculous stuff; he just doesn’t do acrobatics while doing so. Locked yourself out of your house? He somehow knows how to pick a lock. Forgot something somewhere? He’ll run all the way back there to get it for you!

- He’s kinda slow in the reflex department; you’ve been his savior more than a few times. You’re probably one of the only reasons his glasses are still intact.

- Specs is generally pretty polite but he is not a morning person at all. Be careful when attempting to wake him up, you may end up snatched and cuddled against your will or aggressively grumbled at.

- All the newsies would absolutely love cuddling with their girls and you cannot convince me otherwise. Some may be more shy than others but they all secretly love it. Specs typically sleeps/rests on his back so he’s pretty fond of the sweetheart cradle.

- He’s not ashamed of the fact that he likes when you baby him but he’ll get extremely embarrassed if anyone somewhat comes close to guessing that he does.

- He may be a little rough around the edges but he always tries to treat you like a lady; at least when he can help it.

- Getting visits while or after he sells his papers.

- He would genuinely wait around for hours just to be able to spend a little time with you. Get off work at seven? Well he gets off at five but he can stand to wait a little. Its worth it, right?

- People are just used to seeing him sitting on a crate outside your workplace, fiddling with whatever he can find to pass the time.

- He has a habit of holding/playing with things when he’s stationary so expect to have your hand occupied quite often.

- Piggyback rides. It may not be proper for a lady such as yourself but frankly, you don't give a damn and neither does he if you don’t.

- Likes bothering you in that playful boyfriend sort of way. You get teased, poked and prodded, especially when the two of you are alone together.

- He’s always got something to say. The two of you could have a full conversation about literally nothing at all.

- He’s happy to let you lean on him. What’s the difference when it’s a cute girl doing it? He’s used to having the other newsies use him as an arm rest so having his adorable girlfriend resting against him is a welcome change.

- I don’t know if it’s just me; but he looks so much better without his ridiculous top hat on?? Thank god he takes it off around you.

- He doesn’t have much; if any, pocket money so you’re not going to have any expensive dates. That being said, he tries to do something nice with what he has.

- Little love letters filled with misspellings and awful grammar. They may not be the most poetic things in the world but you adore them all the same.

- Walking around town together. You may have seen it all a hundred times before but it seems entirely new when you’re with him.

- Cozying up in secluded corners.

- Refers to you as ‘me old lady’ when talking about you to other people. He doesn’t use too many nicknames when talking with you though. He isn’t a big charmer so he isn’t used to the concept. He probably calls you “missy” jokingly but that doesn’t exactly count as a nickname, does it?

- He both follows your orders and disobeys you like you’re his mother. He’s constantly on that line of I will blindly follow you and I will make you make me.

- He may give you a little shit now and again but he’s a ride or die and thats a fact. When it really comes down to it, he has your back no matter what.

- The newsies may not seem like the most sensitive people in the world but Specs is a bit more empathetic than most. He hates seeing people; especially you, all sad or distressed.

- He may not be the greatest at it but he always tries to comfort or cheer you up in any way he can.

- He’s not used to people really caring about him and his wellbeing so it’s always a shock to him when you worry about his safety or try to take care of him.

- You once brought him some food because you were worried he wasn’t eating enough and he nearly cried. You should have seen his face when you handed it to him; it was like you were giving him a hundred bucks.

- Occasionally you’ll sneak him into your house when your parents aren’t home so he can take a warm bath in a tub that he actually fits in and eat a full meal.

- Sometimes the two of you will walk around town together, pretending that you’re both a wealthy couple. You put on posh accents and look through the windows of shops you could never buy from, boasting about how you’ll get this or that and talking about other “rich person” things.

- He saves up money for an entire year just to be able to buy you a Christmas/birthday gift. Either that or he’ll attempt to make you something, usually some kind of newspaper flower.

- How jealous he gets really depends on who it is that he’s meant to be jealous of. If it’s another newsie flirting then he’ll just tell them to get lost but if its someone with more class than him then he feels more threatened. Why would you chose him over some upper class fellow?

- He may act aggressive with the guy but he’s more reserved and feels like he has to take more shit if the fella decides to get smart. He doesn’t want to be put in the refuge for soaking him if his parents take it up with the law.

- Nearly all of the newsies would be protective of their girls and this trait isn’t lost on Specs. He’ll stare down people he doesn't like, keeping you behind him and puffing out his chest whenever they turn up.

- He’s always keeping an eye out for you and lingering around. He usually isn’t too far from your side when he can help it.

- He always stands behind you as you’re sitting down, holding the back of your chair and keeping a close eye on everything that’s going on.

- He’s surprisingly fast on his feet and is an arguably good bullshitter/liar which he used for both good and; occasionally, bad causes. He can’t lie to you very well though; you can always see right through him.

- Most of your fights are pretty trivial so it isn't hard for the two of you to makeup. A lot of the time he’ll just forget that you were fighting or what you were fighting about and continue on like nothing happened or admit that he doesn’t even know what you’re supposed to be bickering about.

- You get a ‘love ya’ every time you’re saying goodbye or whenever he just feels the need to say it.

- The two of you will undoubtedly be pretty nervous when introducing him to your parents. The look on his face when you and your father first laid eyes on each other should be framed.

- He’s genuinely ready to spend the rest of his life with you. He’s one of the older newsies too so marriage might be just around the corner; if your folks will allow it.

#newsies imagine #newsies headcanons #newsies x reader #newsies headcanon #newsies imagines #90s movie headcanon #90s movie headcanons #90s movie imagine #specs imagine #specs headcanon #specs headcanons #92sies imagine #92sies headcanons #92sies headcanon

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nayialovecat · 3 years

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Centaurworld / Świat Centaurów

I encourage everyone to watch Centaurworld, because this 10 episodes at the moment show is just amazing. Virtually no flaws, or at least I don't see any. I managed to persuade a few people and they agreed that this show is great, I also see a growing interest on tumblr, which makes me happy - 'cause it means that for the first time I'm one of the first in the fandom, which may turn out to be one of the best fandoms in which I was (sorry, BATIM X'D). But I also heard opinions that this cartoon is "cute and silly" or that it is a "brainwasher" and I have to admit that I was a bit sick of this opinion. 'Cause, no, this animation is not just another silly, colorful fairy tale where you can laugh, listen to songs and forget about. You may disagree with what I'm about to say, but I'd like to share how I view Centaurworld. Sorry for spoilers in advance, I will try to write in such a way as not to spoil the watching pleasure, but some things have to be said and I will not avoid spoilers. Yes, the animation is colourful, it even has rainbows, stars and hearts at almost every step. In a small and little-spoiler shortcut: the animation presents the story of a fighting mare, which suddenly from a world engulfed in war, finds herself in a joyfully colorful and charming world inhabited by sometimes absurdly built and functioning centaurs (coraltur XD). And if it were a story based simply on the fact that a heroine, used to toil and suffering, has to learn to live in completely different conditions, it would actually be a silly cheerful cartoon. But it's not like that. First of all, Centaurworld has a compact, continuous story - it is a road story, during which the heroes experience various adventures, sometimes scary, sometimes funny, and have a chance to evolve and "become best versions of themselves" (we'll come back to that later). Among the ten episodes of the first season, there is one, literally one filler - in my opinion, it's a filler, 'cause if it was cut out of the plot, it would not be bad at all - but even it provides some important information and deepens the lore of the world (we are talking about the episode with the beartaur). So we have a heroine who is reluctant to a new place, a joyful herd of different individuals who helps her on her journey - and a journey through a magical, colorful world. Sounds like a lot of fun. But practically every episode has a deeper bottom, it shows its second face if we take a closer look at it. Already in the first episode, right after the song about how great Centaurworld is, it is suggested that living under a magic dome is a form of fear, fear of reality and real life with all its challenges and dangers. Today my husband drew my attention to one fragment of the song sung by Horse - namely during the Be Best Competition in the city of cattaurs, when Horse performs a wonderful song "Who is she", at one point he stumbles and then stands up and says “this isn't working, this isn't working, no, no". Of course, she might mean that she was pretending to be someone she wasn't - at the contest (she didn't act like the fighter she is). But look attention that in the same episode the cattaurs in the song "We do this every day" sing "But the Great War brought death and cats-tastrohphe - so we had to find a way to heal, cover up the pain, with pageantry and zeal". In other words, they organize the same competition every day to forget about suffering, to drown out their own despair. Horse takes part in the competition, she's suffering after all - but he finds it doesn't work. What if she's talking at this point not about elegant haircuts and wearing high heels, but about the fact that the forgotting method doesn't work? In another episode, we have a depopulated town with only one resident left - the rest of them voluntarily let themselves be devoured so as not to have to suffer. Isn't it scary that in this joyful and magical land of rainbows and love, there are so many people who prefer to die than continue living? Personally, I was very shocked by how many Centaurworld heroes suffer - we

have different faces of depression, all kinds of traumas (some of which have not yet been explained) and even seemingly joyful characters are not like that when we get to know them better, when we delve into their past. The animation is pleasant and joyful, I can recommend it even to small children, with a pure heart - they will be delighted. But adults... adults will catch the other bottom, see the importance of the words spoken by the heroes - practically each of the Shamans tells the main character something that causes shivers (and it's not just the theme of Nowhere King, which in itself is terrifying and at the same time a very tragic figure). Starting with Waterbaby, whose song is a masterpiece when it comes to hidden meaning. I regret that sometimes the Polish translation spoils the double overtone of some phrases - but I assume that it is a matter of not catching them and not knowing the assumptions of the creator of the series by translators. Centaurworld is an exhilarating rainbow animation. But at the same time it is a deep story about a journey, about depression, about suffering, about not accepting yourself and trying to accept yourself as you are. In seemingly silly scenes (like the prison song "Baby's first spell") there are messages that an attentive viewer can easily translate into our reality (eg "Everyone should be proud of their magical bodies!"). Animation offers not only empty entertainment, not only catchy songs and a moment of relaxation in front of the TV - it forces you to reflect. This compels you to notice that locking yourself in a trouble-free bubble is not the solution. It shows that you cannot avoid traumas, run away from the past - but you have to face them. But at the same time... at the same time, that it's not a shame to cry (I love the song "Frustration tears" - and after it, the behavior of the characters is also quite puzzling,they are not surprising that someone may be desperate - they even think it is the norm... puzzling, right?), it's not a shame to admit defeat or ask someone for help. The main character goes through an amazing path, undergoes a certain... transformation (and I'm not talking about the obvious one now), but not only her. I'm curious how many people noticed that a Glendale who has panic attacks almost every now and then in the first episode - by the end they are practically gone? Can anyone see how different Wammawink's behavior is when she wants to go through a rift - from behavior just after leaving the dome? She sings the same words, the same text "think about fragile things" - but how different is its meaning, its overtone. The series is not shallow. It is not just a story. It has a message, even a few messages. It shows how cruel the war is and how deep its stigma is, even long after it ended. It shows how terrifying depression can be and what it entails. That you shouldn't judge others by their appearances. That we shouldn't be ashamed of who we are or run away from the changes that are taking place in us. It teaches you to accept and love yourself - and many people now forget about that. But not only that. I think attentive viewers will notice many, many more of these little details, hidden flavors, little messages - or quite obvious morals than what I wrote here. Watch Centaurworld. This is, in my opinion, the best thing that has happened in a animation recent time.

(polish version below)

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PL version:

Namawiam wszystkich do oglądania Świata Centaurów, bo ta licząca sobie 10 odcinków na ten moment animacja jest po prostu rewelacyjna. Praktycznie bez wad, a przynajmniej ja żadnych nie dostrzegam.

Kilka osób udało mi się namówić i przyznały mi rację, że jest świetna, dostrzegam też rosnące zainteresowanie na tumblrze, co mnie cieszy - bo oznacza, że pierwszy raz jestem jedną z pierwszych w fandomie, który może się okazać jednym z najlepszych fandomów, w jakich byłam (sorry, BATIM X'D).

Ale usłyszałam też opinie, że ta kreskówka jest "urocza i głupiutka" albo, że jest "odmóżdżaczem" i muszę przyznać, że trochę mnie taka opinia ubodła. Bo, nie, ta animacja nie jest wcale kolejną głupawą, kolorową bajeczką, przy której można się pośmiać, posłuchać piosenek i zapomnieć. Możecie się nie zgodzić z tym, co zaraz powiem, ale chciałabym opowiedzieć, jak ja widzę Świat Centaurów.

Z góry przepraszam na spoilery, będę starała się pisać w taki sposób, aby nie popsuć przyjemności z oglądania, ale pewne rzeczy muszą być powiedziane i spoilerów nie uniknę.

Owszem, animacja jest kolorowa, wręcz ma tęcze, gwiazdki i serduszka na niemal każdym kroku. W małym i mało-spoilerowym skrócie: animacja przedstawia historię bojowej klaczy, która nagle ze świata ogarniętego wojną, trafia do radośnie kolorowego i przeuroczego świata zamieszkanego przez niekiedy absurdalnie zbudowane i funkcjonujące centaury (koralowiec XD). I gdyby była to historia opierająca się po prostu na tym, że bohaterka przyzwyczajona do znoju i cierpienia musi nauczyć się żyć w zupełnie innych warunkach, to faktycznie byłaby głupawa wesoła kreskówka. Ale tak nie jest. Przede wszystkim Świat Centaurów ma zwartą, ciągłą fabułę - jest opowieścią drogi, podczas której bohaterowie przeżywają różne przygody, niekiedy straszne, niekiedy zabawne, a także mają szansę ewoluować i "stać się lepszymi wersjami siebie" (do tego jeszcze wrócimy). Wśród dziesięciu odcinków pierwszego sezonu znalazł się jeden, dosłownie jeden filler - w mojej opinii jest to filler, bo gdyby go wyciąć z fabuły, ta by wcale nie ucierpiała - ale nawet on przekazuje pewne istotne informacje i pogłębia lore świata (mówimy o odcinku z niedźwiedziotaurem).

Mamy więc niechętną nowemu miejscu bohaterkę, radosne stadko różnych indywiduów, które jej w podróży pomaga - no i podróż przez magiczny, kolorowy świat. Brzmi jak świetna zabawa. Ale praktycznie każdy odcinek ma głębsze dno, ukazuje swoje drugie oblicze, jeśli mu się bliżej przyjrzymy. Już w pierwszym odcinku, zaraz po piosence o tym, jak wspaniały jest Świat Centaurów, pada sugestia, że życie pod magiczną kopułą jest formą strachu, lęku przed rzeczywistością i prawdziwym życiem razem z jego wszystkimi wyzwaniami i niebezpieczeństwami.

Mój mąż dziś zwrócił mi uwagę na jeden fragment piosenki śpiewanej przez Koń - mianowicie podczas Konkursu na Lepszą Wersję Siebie w mieście kotaurów, kiedy Koń wykonuje wspaniałą piosenkę "Who is she", w pewnym momencie potyka się, po czym wstając stwierdza "to się nie sprawdza, to nie to” („this isn’t working, no, no”). Oczywiście może jej chodzić o fakt, że podczas konkursu udawała osobę, którą nie jest (nie zachowywała się jak wojowniczka, którą jest). Lecz biorąc pod uwagę, że w tym samym odcinku kotaury w piosence „We do this every day” śpiewają „wojna i śmierć odmieniły nas, trzeba było sposób znaleźć, by zamaskować jakoś ból, przypudrować łzy” („But the Great War brought death and cats-tastrohphe - so we had to find a way to heal, cover up the pain, with pageantry and zeal”). Innymi słowy, urządzają dzień w dzień ten sam konkurs, aby zapomnieć o cierpieniu, aby zagłuszyć własną rozpacz. Koń poddaje się zasadom miasta, bierze udział w konkursie, sama również przecież cierpiąc – ale stwierdza, że to nie działa. Co, jeśli mówi w tym momencie nie o eleganckim uczesaniu i chodzeniu w butach na obcasie, ale o fakcie, że metoda zagłuszania się nie sprawdza?

W innym znów epizodzie mamy wyludnione miasteczko, w którym ostał się jeden mieszkaniec – cała reszta bowiem dobrowolnie dała się pożreć, aby wreszcie nie musieć cierpieć. Czy to nie jest przerażające, że w tej radosnej i magicznej krainie tęcz i miłości, jest aż tyle osób wolących umrzeć niż dalej żyć? Mną osobiście bardzo wstrząsnęło, jak wielu bohaterów Świata Centaurów cierpi – mamy tam pokazane różne oblicza depresji, wszelkiego rodzaju traumy (z których część nie została jeszcze wyjaśniona) i nawet pozornie radosne postacie wcale takie nie są, gdy bliżej je poznajemy, gdy zagłębiamy się w ich przeszłość. Animacja jest przyjemna i radosna, z czystym sercem mogę ją polecić nawet małym dzieciom – będą zachwycone. Ale dorośli… dorośli wyłapią to drugie dno, dostrzegą, jak wielką wagę mają słowa wypowiadane przez bohaterów – praktycznie każdy z Szamanów mówi głównej bohaterce coś, co powoduje dreszcze (i nie chodzi tylko o wątek Króla Nicości, który sam w sobie jest przerażającą i zarazem bardzo tragiczną postacią). Poczynając od Wodnej Buby, której piosenka jest majstersztykiem, jeśli chodzi o ukryte znaczenie. Boleję, że miejscami polskie tłumaczenie psuje podwójny wydźwięk niektórych zwrotów – ale zakładam, że to kwestia nie wyłapania ich i nieznajomości założeń twórczyni serialu.

Świat Centaurów jest radosną tęczową animacją. Ale jednocześnie jest głęboką opowieścią o podróży, o depresji, o cierpieniu, o braku akceptacji samego siebie i próbie zaakceptowania się takim, jakim się jest. W pozornie głupawych scenach (jak więzienna piosenka „Baby’s first spell”) mają miejsce przesłania, które uważny widz łatwo przełoży na naszą rzeczywistość (np. „należy być dumnym ze swojego czarodziejskiego ciała” – „Everyone should be proud of their magical bodies!”). Animacja oferuje nie tylko pustą rozrywkę, nie tylko wpadające w ucho piosenki i chwilę relaksu przed telewizorem – zmusza do refleksji. Zmusza to zauważenia, że zamknięcie się w pozbawionej kłopotów bańce nie jest rozwiązaniem. Pokazuje, że nie można unikać traum, uciekać od przeszłości – ale trzeba im stawić czoła. Ale jednocześnie… jednocześnie, że nie jest wstydem płakać (uwielbiam piosenkę „Frustration tears” – i po niej również dosyć zastanawiające jest zachowanie bohaterów, dla których nie jest zaskoczeniem, że ktoś może być zrozpaczony – wręcz wydaje im się to normą… zastanawiające, nieprawdaż?), nie jest wstydem przyznać się do porażki albo poprosić kogoś o pomoc. Główna bohaterka przechodzi niesamowitą drogę, przechodzi pewną… przemianę (i nie mówię teraz o tej oczywistej), ale nie tylko ona. Jestem ciekawa, ile osób zwróciło uwagę na to, że taka Glendale, która w pierwszym odcinku ma napady paniki praktycznie co chwila – pod koniec praktycznie już ich nie ma? Czy ktoś dostrzega, jak odmienne jest zachowanie Wammawink, kiedy chce przejść przez ryft – w stosunku do zachowania, tuż po opuszczeniu kopuły? Śpiewa te same słowa, ten sam tekst „tak delikatni są” („think about fragile things”) – ale jakże inne jest jego znaczenie, jego wydźwięk.

Serial nie jest płytki. Nie jest jedynie opowiastką. Ma przesłanie, a nawet kilka przesłań. Ukazuje, jak okrutna jest wojna i jak głębokie jest jej piętno, nawet długi czas po jej zakończeniu. Pokazuje, jak przerażająca potrafi być depresja i to, co się z nią wiąże. Że nie należy oceniać innych po pozorach. Że nie należy wstydzić się tego, kim się jest, ani uciekać przed zmianami, jakie w nas zachodzą. Uczy akceptacji i miłości do samego siebie – a o tym wiele osób obecnie zapomina. Ale nie tylko to. Sądzę, że uważni widzowie dostrzegą jeszcze wiele, wiele więcej takich drobnych elementów, ukrytych smaczków, drobnych przesłań – lub całkiem oczywistych morałów, niż to, co ja tutaj napisałam.

Oglądajcie Świat Centaurów. To najlepsza moim zdaniem rzecz, jaka przydarzyła się w animacji z ostatnim czasie.

#centaurworld #Świat Centaurów #Nayia Lovecat recommends #spoilers

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strangertheory · 4 years

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"anti-Mileven"

I know you submitted this as a message and not an Ask, but I hope you don't mind if I answer your question with a longer post because this is a topic that is important to me but is complicated. I've meant to do a post about this, but kept putting it off because it is a very layered topic for me and my thoughts about Mileven are probably not what a lot of fans want to hear.

I respect that everyone develops an attachment to their preferred couples in stories for personal reasons, and as such any criticism of the dynamic between two characters that are dating can feel like a very personal criticism. I respect everyone's head-canons and favorite ships as sacred ground: I don't want to tell anyone how they should or should not relate to a story. That's unique to each of us as fans, and we will all enjoy Stranger Things for different reasons.

However: I do have some thoughts regarding the way that the narrative has established the dynamic between Mike and El. And I personally do not find their dynamic *as it currently is* to be one that is ideal for either of them yet.

I really care about Eleven and I really care about Mike. They are two of my favorite characters in the story.

To say that I'm "anti-Mileven" is a huge oversimplification of how I feel about Mike and El's dynamic.

I am very much anti:

overlooking the fact El has been treated as a lab rat and abused and isolated from society for the majority of her existence and her ignorance of her own identity and her own desires is repeatedly reinforced canonically. ("How do I know what I like?") El has spent only a few months out in the world beyond her cell at the lab and beyond Hopper's cabin, she knows very little about the world yet, and she is being taught much of what she now knows by her boyfriend who also happens to be one of the few people she interacts with in her daily life. The power difference and social difference between them is huge currently regardless of whether Mike is a nice kid with good intentions or not, and they are both fourteen years olds.

overlooking that it is superficial and not representative of a "deep" relationship to only kiss and make out with a significant other and not do other meaningful activities that establish a real day-to-day relationship (like hanging out with friends and other loved ones as a couple.) There's a popular misconception that the act of two people kissing is inherently romantic and a sign of emotional closeness. But kissing becomes romantic psychologically when two people share a deep affection for one another that is based on shared experiences and emotional and psychological connectedness. If two characters can be shown to care about one another without ever physically touching, they have the potential for a deep connection that is based on more than the thrill of physical affection. Give me a well-developed relationship first, and then kissing will seem romantic to me. Without an established psychological and emotional connection between characters, kissing is merely a superficial representation of the idea of intimacy between characters without any actual substance underneath. Sure that's what kids do when they're figuring out how dating and feelings and physical intimacy work and it's not harmful in itself provided that they are both comfortable with it, but keep this in mind within the context of the other concerns I list here.

trivializing Mike's dishonesty and blaming Hopper for Mike's lying when the truth is Mike could have easily explained to El that Hopper didn't want them spending as much time together and having some space would be better. El is well aware of Hopper's dislike for their time spent together. This should have been a very easy conversation. As Lucas rightfully asks as Mike is ranting about the situation he got himself into: "Why lie?" Good question, Lucas. Good question. El asks Mike this again later at the mall. "Why do you lie?" Mike stares back at her with an awkward expression, and does NOT answer her. Why is this answer not an easy one? Why has Mike still not addressed things with El? I think there is more going on here than just Hopper's threats.

I am very in favor of:

El learning more about who she is and what she wants to do with her life outside of the desires and expectations of other people.

Mike figuring out how to effectively express his thoughts and feelings honestly. He is clearly struggling to do this throughout season 3, and it is uncharacteristic of the kid who defiantly said and did what he wanted frequently in seasons 1 and 2. Clearly Mike is not comfortable and is nervous, which is understandable for someone exploring new emotionally vulnerable territory like dating for the first time, but he needs to learn to be honest and tell people how he is thinking and feeling or else he is also putting himself and his feelings and needs at risk and potentially establishing an unhealthy relationship that will hurt him and hurt others even if he doesn't mean to. Mike's nervousness is STILL present in the final goodbye scene in which Mike and El talk, and El tells him she loves him and kisses him. He is still stumbling over his words and anxious, and he seems notably confused after El kisses him. These small details are not trivial, they are clearly intentional.

Recognizing that Mike is the first person her age that was kind to El when she escaped the lab, and given that she has only known pain and abuse her entire life and has never known friendship let alone romance that her psychological readiness for understanding a romantic relationship is NOT the same as an ordinary 14 year old's and this cannot be stated enough.

Recognizing that societal pressures and personal insecurities might be a huge factor in how Mike clings to El's attention and affection for him, and that there is evidence in the story that supports this interpretation. We know that Mike is bullied frequently, and that there is a layer of homophobia often involved. (Even if James and Troy were speaking rudely about Will, they were still directly confronting Mike. The implication is there.) We know that Lucas yelled at Mike "No Mike. You're blind. Blind because you like that a girl's not grossed out by you!" This reveals that Lucas knows that Mike is insecure and wants validation. Just because Mike has a desperate desire to be loved and liked by a girl does not mean that his appreciation of El's attention is based on his genuine romantic affection for her. Mike might be dating El because he enjoys the attention, he likes being liked, and he likes how having a girlfriend makes him feel more accepted and normal.

Recognizing that every moment that Mike has tried to share something that he is passionate about with El (the Yoda figurine, the dinosaurs) she has been completely disinterested. Since El has no cultural connection to the pop culture stories Mike loves and she lived in the Lab her entire life, it makes perfect sense that she will have no interest in these toys. Her lack of interest in what Mike is passionate about, however, is worth noting: not because it's a bad thing, but because it's just one of many reasons they are "not even from the same planet" and cannot bond and connect easily. El has lived an incredibly different life from Mike, has suffered through so much, and is still learning about the outside world and about herself. She is severely behind in social and personal development. She needs time to learn and to grow and to heal so she can live her best life and recover from what she has been through. (She doesn't really care about your Star Wars toys, Michael, because she just learned what a phone is and is processing a lot of other things right now.)

*I want to credit @kaypeace21 for pointing out many of these particular observations listed above: you can read her very detailed and extensive analysis in her post here: El is Not in Love with Mike.

These are just a few of many thoughts I have regarding Mike and El's dynamic together, and why I find the romanticization and idealization of their dating relationship to be more suited to fan-canon and fanfiction. For El to have a relationship with Mike that I would personally enjoy and appreciate, the story would need to convincingly allow her to establish a notably better understanding of who she is and what she wants, and have time to heal from her trauma and learn a lot more about the outside world. While I suspect that the Byers moving away will be very difficult for Will, in many ways I think it will benefit El tremendously and I hope that she is given more opportunities to learn and to grow.

I also agree with @hawkinsschoolcounselor 's hypothesis that Mike is projecting his feelings for Will onto El. It's impossible for me to see Mike's dynamic with El as entirely separate from Mike's relationship with Will because El was found in the woods when they were looking for Will in season 1, El helped everyone find Will in the Upside Down and saved his life, and El reappears at the end if season 2 and saves Will from the Mindflayer. Until season 3, El's appearance in Mike's life has been directly tied to Will's survival and safety. I do not think this is a trivial aspect of El's narrative. El's importance within the larger story being told is repeatedly tied back to what Will is dealing with. The reason that El and Will's narratives are so deeply intertwined has not been revealed in the story yet, but I suspect that there are some important aspects of El and Will's stories that haven't been fully revealed yet that will bring all of these seemingly isolated plot threads together. The creators of Stranger Things repeatedly tie El and Will together visually and narratively (re: @kaypeace21), and I believe there is a very specific reason for this.

I look forward to seeing what happens in season 4. Whether my interpretation of El and Mike's dynamic is fair or not, I trust the writers have a compelling next chapter in their story for us all to enjoy.

#anti mileven #antimileven #anti-mileven #stranger things #stranger things theory #but not actually anti mileven I am tagging it that way because I am critical #so fans can choose to not read my thoughts

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acadiahqs · 3 years

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Things were finally beginning to settle down. Emery felt normal again—or whatever the equivalent to normal in a magic school was. He was much more tired and anxious and jittery these days, sure, but that was the norm for him.

Leaving campus for the evening, he texted his guardian to let him know he was on his way home when there was a particular breeze that blew through him, making his hair fly in his face. It was as if…the wind was pushing him to a certain direction. Tucking back his hair behind his ears, the magician stared at the direction that the wind was blowing. He usually took the same way home every day, but clearly there was something telling him to take a new way.

He wanted to ignore it, knowing how this ended in, like, every horror movie ever. But his legs moved faster than his brain, and before he knew it, he was walking in the direction the wind wanted him to go.

There was the edge of campus this way, tall and thick bushes on the borderline to separate from the forest that was usually avoided by most people. A dead end.

Figures, Emery thought to himself. If this were a horror movie, the killer would’ve jumped out and got him with an axe by now.

Instead, there was a bunny rabbit that seemingly popped out of thin air, landing right at Emery’s feet. Startled, the magician stumbled back, clutching the strap of his book bag. “What the fu—”

“Magic in danger,” the bunny said in a low and raspy voice. “Follow me.”

Emery stared wide-eyed at the animal for a moment before glancing around wildly. “Holy shit,” he breathed out. “Did you just…talk?”

“Magic in danger. Follow me,” the bunny repeated before it started hopping towards the thick bushes.

“H-hey, wait—!” Emery ran after it, the bunny’s words barely processing in his head. Magic in danger? What the hell did that mean?

The little animal hopped right through the bushes, making Emery groan. This thing was surely leading him to his actual death, right into the forest where no one would be able to find his body for days, weeks.

Still, he didn’t turn around. Taking in a deep breath, he pushed his way through, nearly tripping over branches before making it to the other side.

Except, it wasn’t the forest. At least, not the same forest in Lennox. No, this one was different somehow. There was a brightness to it, as if it was still daylight. The trees were taller, bigger. The birds were chirping away. Some deer nearby got spooked by his presence and pranced away.

The place was whimsical. It was…magical. More magical than Acadia could hold.

“Where…am I?” the professor wondered out loud, taking in every detail, every sound and smell. This couldn’t be real. He had to be dreaming, right? He must’ve fallen asleep on his desk. Yeah, that made sense.

“Follow me,” the bunny’s voice cut through his thoughts.

If this was a dream, Emery wanted to know this bunny’s deal before waking up. Like why did it sound like it smoked ten packs a day? Hitching up his book bag, he followed the little thing through the woods and out into a clearing at the edge of a cliff. Looking into the distance, his throat suddenly went dry.

There stood a castle. A castle so grand that it looked like it jumped straight from every fantasy book Emery has ever read. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes a couple times to make sure that the castle was really there. If he really was dreaming, it definitely felt real.

The bunny rabbit continued to lead him down a trail to the bottom of the cliff where a pathway started and right up to these stone gates. Two guards stood on either side, tall and slender and almost impossibly beautiful. Maybe he could get actual answers from them.

“Uh, hi?” Emery’s voice was quiet, small. He cleared his throat to try to get their attention. “Could you, uh, tell me where I am? Or what this…is? Has this always been here?”

Rather than saying anything, the guards took one look at the bunny right besides Em before they opened the gates. The magician let out a huff of breath before following the darn thing inside.

If he was impressed with the outside of the castle, the interior was something else. White and gold marble floors, stone walls with colorful tapestry hanging, tall windows to let the sun in to give the place some warmth. Emery was quite literally pinching himself, wondering if he was ever going to wake up again.

He let himself be led to a grand room with various flags hung from the ceiling, a shimmering carpet leading up to where a throne sat—and, god, it made Emery want to faint from the mere sight. The throne was nearly as tall as the ceiling, the white and gold seemingly glimmering from the sunlight.

“Where the hell am I and can I stay here forever?” Emery asked out loud, his jaw dropping to the floor as he took it all in. This was every nerd’s fantasy, after all.

“You’re in Valoria, Child of Earth,” an unexpected voice answered him, firm and almost thundering throughout the throne room.

It startled Emery, making him jump and let out a small embarrassing sound. Coming from the entryway opposite of him, a tall, inexplicably gorgeous woman made her way to the throne, as if she were gliding before taking her seat. She had long and shimmering blonde hair, a pointed golden crown on her head. She wore a sparkling white and flowy dress, perfectly tailored for her. She had a small smile on her face, like it was a practiced one to show her politeness, but it was clear that she had great power and could crush him at a moment’s notice.

“Val-Valoria? What is that? That sounds familiar, I…” Emery was wracking his brain for the answer. “Wait. Wait, I’ve read this book. I—it’s about this girl who finds a portal to a fantasy land, a-and this is…this is it. This is…”

Swallowing thickly, it was then that Em noticed her ears. They were pointed and slender, like an—

“You’re an elf,” he said out loud before realizing it. “An elven queen. You’re—you’re Rina Eilhorn, aren't you?”

The Queen’s smile actually became genuine, even if it was for a second. She gave a slow nod. “That’s right,” she said. “I suppose my messenger bunny showed up for the right Child of Earth.” At this, the rabbit hopped up the steps up to the throne, stopping at the Queen’s feet for her to pick him up. “At least now I wouldn’t have to explain the history of this land.”

Emery’s mind was running—and screaming and dancing. He was in a magical land that he’s only ever read about, and it was real. He wanted to cry.

“There’s no time for weeping,” Rina said, her face becoming serious all of a sudden. “I have an urgent matter and I’m afraid that it’s a problem that only the Children of Earth can fix.” She paused, maybe for dramatic effect, but Ems didn’t dare to make a sound. “Magic is running low, dangerously so. Someone—or something is draining the Wellspring, the source of all magic.”

Emery’s eyes widened. This was…well, it was nearly unbelievable. Magic was his constant, so what would he do if it was gone? He couldn’t bear the thought.

“Thousands of years ago, when my mother ruled,” the Queen continued, “she was approached by the Keepers—a group of mortals who made their way into our land—to make a deal. They wanted access to the Wellspring, to have magic on Earth. My mother made the deal, but under one condition. The portal to Valoria would be closed forever. Since then, our Wellspring is the reason why your earth has magicians and moroi and every little creature you can think of. The Keepers became master magicians and regulated the magic usage on Earth, then came the royal morois, and so on.” She leaned back into her throne, her hand slowly rubbing through the bunny’s fur as it lay contently on her lap. “If there is no magic, there are no magicians. Moroi cannot control the elements. Werewolves can’t shift. Sirens can’t manipulate with their voice. So I’m reopening the portal, because Valoria and Earth need help. Wouldn’t you agree, little magician?”

“I-I…” Emery couldn’t find the words. He was trying and failing. This was absolutely beyond his comprehension. “Why me?” he finally asked, remembering her earlier comment. “I mean—why did you decide to lead me here?”

The elven queen released a chortle. “Don’t you feel flattered by thinking you’re a chosen one,” she told him. “This isn’t some young adult novel, Emery Woods. You were simply at the right place at the right time.”

Emery couldn’t help but feel a bit disheartened by the words. He did love reading books because he always felt himself transporting into them, being in the protagonist’s shoes, feeling like he was meant to save the world. His eyes narrowed when he realized something, though.

“Wait. How did you know my name?” he asked.

Rina smirked down at him. “Figure out what is draining the Wellspring and save magic. Repeat the message to those you trust. I only hope that Headmistress Wolf isn’t one of them.”

Emery blinked a couple of times. “What? Why does she have anything to do with this?”

“That’s for you to figure out,” the Queen simply said with a rather bored sigh, as if she didn’t drop like, a million bombs onto him. “You are dismissed, Child of Earth.”

“W-wait, wait—!” He had so many questions. How did she know his name? What could possibly be draining the literal source of all magic? What did that mean for the academy? Why did the Queen seem distrusting of the Headmistress? Were the Keepers still around? He wasn’t able to ask any of this, because with the small wave of the elven queen’s hand, he was transported right back on the other side of the bushes, back on campus.

Letting out a huff of breath, Emery took a moment to process everything that just happened, basically frozen on the spot before shaking out of his thoughts.

“What. The. Hell?”

#plot drop 004 #hehe #acadiahqadmin

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 4 years

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Arranged Chapter I (Poe Dameron x Reader)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: None for this chapter (series: E)

Word Count: 4,004

Summary: Prince and Princess of your respective planets you both agree to wed, not for love, but for advantage and the public cannot know. But there’s only one problem -- the two have never met, not until your wedding day.

A/N: so this has been several months in progress. I’ll be tagging folks who liked my original post (if you don’t want to be tagged, just shoot me a message!). there’s a lot of set up in this chapter, but i promise it will pay off. I hope you give this series a read b/c its really something special to me. Special shoutouts to @laneygthememequeen, @bucky-of-the-opera, and @mrsrafaelbarba for all the support!!!

"Come on Poe, you cannot have seriously agreed to this," Poe Dameron did not bother to look from the mirror, eyes concentrated on delicately tucking the wide end into the knot before pulling it down into a nearly perfect loop. But why then, why did it feel like he was tying the noose around his neck before his long walk to the gallows? The dread his stomach certainly sat like it - twisting his guts into a kriffing useless knot, much like the one around his neck.

"I already agreed to it, Finn," the knot hung a little crooked - well perfect enough - just as his life was, "long time ago."

Was it that long? It was an instant. An instant that he went from sitting in his mother’s lap in her x-wing, listening to her hum, as she flipped switches and steered the ship across the sky over the Queen’s palace. The quiet buzz of the engine lulled him sleep, until she would rouse him as they swooped in for a soft landing after the daily patrol of the perimeter. The oranges of the sky now inky black, nothing but a glittering scattering of stars and distant planets he knew nothing of.

And now, he was stuffed in a stranger’s all too stuffy suit, tying a tie, and his feet cramping in tight shoes - and as he stared at himself in the mirror - he barely recognized himself. Probably because he definitely didn’t choose these clothes. A tradition - the bride’s family chooses the groom’s clothes. As he resisted the urge to squirm in his aching feet in his shoes, he wondered if they were hoping he couldn’t run with blue and purple feet.

“Two weeks isn’t that long ago,” But two weeks wasn’t when he decided. Two weeks ago was when he confirmed it - confirmed that he would do anything to please his Queen, the person who took him in when he had no one - when he had lost everyone. And this - this wasn’t a loss - it was a gain. A gain, of another at his side.

Finn shook his head, heaving a sigh, “Just tell me, tell me you’re not just doing this for the agreement.”

Was it the agreement why he was doing this? Yes, the troops the neighboring planet of Shar could give could end the war, the relief from supplies could stop millions from starving, and the bloodshed, the one that had stained his hands for all too long, could stop. He could finally stop — stop waking up in cold sweats from the images of broken children haunting him, the ghosts of families poking and prodding at his subconscious, until he begged for mercy. It could stop.

An offer like this didn't come around twice. Except that it did — and she had said no.

His Queen.

Queen Leia Organa, his mother by all intents and circumstances, received an offer for an alliance a long time ago, and all that was needed was a hand in marriage - and since Ben's hand was already promised - it only left him. It was considered and mulled over and examined time and time again. The Queen couldn't deny the offer was favorable — especially with forces stirring, plotting, scheming in the background. But in the foreground was her son. Barely old enough to read, much less decide on an offer of marriage. She said no, because at that time, she had the choice.

But this time, she didn’t. And neither did he.

“I’m not just doing it for the agreement,” he intoned, mustering up a small smile, “Even if I am, as my advisor, shouldn’t you be trying to make sure I go through it?”

He saw Finn frown at him in the mirror, “As your advisor, I’m trying to assure you aren’t making a rash decision,” he paused, before adding, “and as your friend, I’m trying to make sure you’re not being a kriffing idiot.”

“According to you and Rey, aren’t I always?” he laughs, but it echoes hollowly in his chest, and for a moment he allows himself to feel the weight of his decision - he would spend his life with a stranger. Would they grow used to each other? Would they hate each other? Or worst of all, would they mean nothing to each other? And then the counterbalance weighed in - the war, the shortages, and his mother. He turns to face Finn, “I know it’s the right decision.”

“How do you know?”

He only smiles, “Because Queen Organa wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise.” And he hopes that’s true, hopes it’s enough.

“We should get going,” Finn says, but his words don’t register. Not really. Instead, Poe stares out the window, and nearly just out of sight, the very tip of the pavement of the landing strip peeked through, the end of an x-wing barely visible. It would be so easy. Too easy to sneak out of here, feet pounding down the pavement, slipping past every guard, until it was too late to stop him. His head against the rest of the pilot’s seat, thrum of the engine buzzing in his ears, and he would be gone. He would fly somewhere, anywhere he did not have to be responsible for the lives of so many people, somewhere he did not have to follow his duty — somewhere he just could take care of himself. Instead of everyone else.

Finn claps him on his shoulder, and he's ejected from his fantasy, “Hey, you okay?" And a small voice nags at the back of his head, after the war, after the war, after the war. Maybe things could be different - maybe he could be free. Things change. People too. As do commitments to treaties. Alliances fall and rise with only the flick of a royal’s finger, and why couldn’t his life too? “We can’t be late, it’s your wedding after all.”

Then why, he thought as he steeled himself, pushing himself to take one step after the other, why did it feel like my funeral?

~~~~

The march from his quarters to the hall was a lengthy one. One in which every doubt rears its unwelcome ugly head again, whatever seemingly committed front he had put up to Finn shattered in its wake. Now his eyes just looked for exits. Whatever instilled duty and steadiness he had long abandoned him as he left his room, now leaving only with traitorous thoughts and antsiness in his fingers. But eyes — eyes were watching him. Even now as he walked towards where the procession was waiting for his arrival, he felt the gazes of every guard he passed, every servant, every nobleman fall upon him with smiles and well wishes. And imagine what those smiles would be if they could hear his actual thoughts? How quickly those smiles would turn to scorn at his own selfishness? How fast those well wishes would turn to hissed sneers? The math was simple. A single hand to save many. A choice with only one right option. But why did he want the wrong one?

But why was it wrong? Why was it wrong to want to want to have a choice? Why was it so wrong to want to choose who to love?

It wasn’t wrong, he swallowed the lump in his throat as he spotted the procession standing at attention, the colors of the Resistance in full thrust, he just didn’t have a choice.

Or rather he did. His family and his planet or a chance at an unknowable future.

He gave Finn a nod, before facing the procession, striding forward to take his place. And he would choose his people - every time.

~~~

“Add more color to her lips,” The Empress of Shar ordered sharply, smoothing her tone over with a saccharine smile that only assured you that this servant would be fired by the end of day, “We want her husband to be completely enraptured by her — anything less will not be tolerated.” Or perhaps, it would be something worse than a simple dismissal.

Instead, your eyes remained concentrated on the delicate designs that had been drawn on the backs of your hand, patterns of vines and leaves intertwined around each other, bound in the same fate. These same hands that saw battle, bruised and battered and bloodied, were now dressed up in rings and bracelets, drawing eyes to the designs that adorned your skin. And while these tattoos were ephemeral, the passage of time scrubbing them from your hands, the ceremony they represented were not.

That knowledge weighed on you, heavier than the weight of your wedding clothes against your body. Your mother had you dressed before dawn had broken, and even your muscles nearly buckled under the weight, the clothes embroidered to the point of absurdity. And now in the sunlight, you could see it clearly, ornate designs painstakingly stitched into shimmering waves and complicated lattices upon the ivory fabric. You resisted the urge to finger the designs, knowing your mother would lose her mind if even a single bead was out of place.

The fingers of the servants tugged and pulled on the strands of your hair into an intricate braid, weaving ribbons, golden thread, and flowers into the complicated knots. You bit your tongue as they yanked particularly hard. Complaining would only incite the Empress’s wrath - and you didn’t wish that upon even your worst enemies.

The Empress of Shar left no enemies behind. And those she did, she left with their heads on a pike. It was in the name of duty. That's what she told you, anyway.

"Duty first, mercy second," and you learned quite quickly that mercy often didn't come. If ever. Mercy was reserved for only those situations where the Empress had something to gain — and was assured she had nothing to lose. And your wedding was one of them. It would have been all too simple to storm the planet of D’qar, beaten into submission after attack upon attack by their enemies. All it would have taken was one unit — the im’petis — the force users and their army would have been razed to the ground. But war is messy. War never ends. Even when all said and done, the seeds of revenge fester in the crevices and cracks of a broken kingdom, until blooming into swathes of rebellion. Too many warm bodies lost. Too much wasted time.

No, it was better - better to forge an alliance, quell any hint of impropriety, instead two planets become one kingdom. And D’qar and the Resistance gain the support of Shar’s vast resources, while Shar’s gains the aid of their technology. The only cost? Your freedom.

Or your hand in marriage. All the same to you.

You couldn’t run. You couldn’t escape. It was a choice of your family or your life.

And you choose your family. Always.

“Now, it is time for you to meet your husband,” The Empress waves the servants away, and as quickly as they came, they disappear through the double doors, “We will bring you out. The ceremony will be performed separately at first, and then you will be brought before each other as husband and wife,” her lips curl into a smile, “and darling, this must go well, for both our sakes.”

“Yes, I understand,” she raises a brow, “my Empress.”

She nods, “Your ladies in waiting will escort you to the procession, and then you and Poe will live on this planet for a time, before returning to Shar. I expect to hear from you, at the end of every month. Especially before your return to Shar."

You would spend a few months on D'qar, here, as the kingdom prepares for the transfer of power from Queen Organa to Prince Ben."

“Yes,” your throat tight, you give another nod, “I understand.”

“I imagine you will have little trouble. The prince is flighty - weak minded and eager, in both romantic and unromantic pursuits,” she stops in front of you, staring, and you wonder if she can see the weakness in your heart, every thought in your mind telling you to run now, to refuse. But she says nothing, only winding a curl framing your face around her finger, tugging on it harshly, a thread of pain running through your head, “but may I remind of the stakes of this. All of Shar is relying on you, as is your mother. Do not forget your place.”

She lets go and the curl bounces back into place, as she turns to leave, her hand pausing on the door handle, “And don’t forget,” she smiles at you warmly, which only makes your blood run colder, “you two fell in love on a diplomatic mission, and now are being wed,” a ploy - to garner support from the public - it was far better in the eyes of the simple folk to marry for love rather than power. Love sells after all, “So don’t forget to smile at your betrothed - you are in love with him after all.”

The door closes with a click. Yes. Love. Of course.

No tears well in your eyes nor do you scream. You sit there, staring at your luggage. You had been flown to D’qar night before last. The air was lighter here — less humid, somehow sweeter than the aridity on Shar. But now, it felt strangling. You rose, bracelets clanging against your wrists, lifting your skirt as you strided forward. You unzipped one of the bags, stuffed with gowns and dress shirts alike, the material heavy as your arm waded through the sea of silk, until your fingers found the false bottom to the bag. Your fingers snaked through the opening, until they closed around what you sought. You pulled the lightsaber from the bag, staring at the intricate design of the hilt, its weight a comfort in your hands. Only days ago you had spent cutting down Shar’s enemies, and now - you would do it again.

Only this time — there was a knock at the door, and you buried the saber as quickly as you could in the luggage — the deaths would not be on the battlefield, they would be in a palace.

~~~~

Poe’s stomach twisted. He did not like this.

A thousand eyes watched him atop the platform set up by both the people of D’qar and Shar alike. All of whom were watching him now as he sat - trying not to fidget in his throne. Drapes of colors of both kingdoms hung - some separately and others in unison, representing the merging of the two planets and of this union. And they hung all around the stage as well, a barrier from the public’s eyes - but only barely - as he could spot their eager eyes between the parting of the banners.

He did not like this at all.

A lone soul, his stomach lurching as he waited for the ceremony to begin. A million eyes on him, and not a soul he knew beside him. He wished Finn or Rey - someone could have joined him. He resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut - at least the Queen. But they were following Shar's traditions, down to the dotted line - part of the agreement.

A neutral expression would suffice instead of a smile, hoping he appeared to be an anxious groom rather than a miserable prince. The officiant would be joining him soon enough, but it did not make him feel any less lonely by himself. Usually, the men of the bride and groom would join the soon to be husband, but - his stomach twisted again - neither of them were around were they? The one thing he knew that he shared with you - the lack of a father, or perhaps the fleeting memory of one. More a ghost than anything now.

The corners of his eyes stinged, nails digging into his palms, the nagging thought in the back of his head wrenched to the forefront: what would he think of his son? Marrying a stranger he had never met. Would he be proud of his dedication to the kingdom he had lost his life for? Or would he want something more for him? Something like he and his mom had.

The chatter outside grew, and he readied himself for the officiant. But did it even matter? He was alone in the end - in life and in marriage.

“You look quite sad for a man on his wedding day,” his head snapped to attention, as he moved to get up, but his Queen waved him off, “It is your wedding day, you need not rise for me.”

“But don’t I always anyway, Your Majesty?” he gave a weak smile, rising to his feet as she sat, wrinkling her nose at his formality, but holding her tongue (knowing he would use her title anyway), “How many Sharians heads’ did you have to bite off to allow you to be here?”

The corner of her mouth twitched, “Only one. And I did not bite anyone’s head off - I only had to ask, and made it clear to the Empress I was only going to ask once to be at my son’s side during his wedding.”

Son, his throat tightened, swallowing the feelings that rose with that word - the word that wasn’t a word, but so much more - it was the very reason he had agreed to this. More than the scorn, the hatred he would engender, maybe even the crushing guilt of the lives lost - or maybe he couldn’t — but he knew only for certain: that he couldn’t bear the thought of his mother being disappointed in him.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he says quietly, and she looks over, lips curled in a smile now.

She raises a brow, “No remarks to be made?”

Poe looked to the audience as all rose for the approaching officiant, and he knew he wouldn’t run - not because he couldn’t - but because he could live with marrying someone he didn’t know, but he couldn’t live without his home.

~~~

You didn’t want to have this ceremony. You liked the beauty of it all, the elegance, but only from an outsider’s perspective. Not when you were the one sitting like a shyyyo bird in a cage. You hated all the eyes on you — dressed in bright plumage to draw their gazes, as they watched you take part in this forced mating ritual.

Maker, it was your wedding day and all you want to do is take a nap. Especially as the officiant's droning voice led you through the vows, you felt your mind wane, though you kept the outer mask of a bride carefully stitched into your features. Even so, you doubted they could see your face through the thick veil of flowers tied around your head, the string digging into your skull. Even through the thick perfume of flowers, sweet and heady, you could smell the distant aroma of dinner - savory and ambrosial - stewing in pots and warming until this ceremony was over. You almost didn’t care if your stomach growled - after fourteen hours in this outfit and being poked and prodded and watched - you were ready to eat.

And it would be soon enough - as the vows came to an end, with only a word of affirmation needed from the groom and from you. A comlink hooked up to project sound throughout the building - as one was offered to you and most assuredly to him, as so everyone could hear you affirm your love for one another. And it occurred to you, this would be the first time you heard his voice. Curiosity edged in at the corners of your mind - what would his voice be like? Would it be gruff and low? Would it be smooth and dulcet? Would it be pompous and orotund?

It was one Sharian phrase, but you repeated the word over and over in your head - knowing that a second of hesitation (or Maker forbid a mispronunciation) would look suspicious.

You hear the officiant ask, “Hal’e turbi hayatak bihah?” Do you bind your life to hers?

“Nam 'uqad hayati,” Yes, I bind my life to hers. The Shar words rolled off his tongue with clumsy vowels and exaggerated consonants. You had no expectations, and yet his voice was different than you expected. It was neither gruff nor pompous, you supposed it could be smooth or dulcet, but it was still something more than that - and you realized, it was the conviction in his tone.

For Sharians, arranged marriages were second nature - a tried and true practice that made for marriages that would last a lifetime, most by choice, but others by obligation. You thought nothing of it - it was the same risk anyone took when marrying for love, and the same traps that anyone could fall into in a bad marriage. But for D’qar? Their people have married for love almost as long as they have existed. Even Prince Ben, whose hand had been promised to another, it was because he had fallen for another. So for the precious prince, it couldn’t have been easy to agree to this. And yet, he seemed sure - that it gave you pause - when was the last time you had been so sure of anything?

You weren’t even sure when you had agreed to this - though it wasn’t like you were given much of a choice. You were perfect after all - the perfect stand in for the princess, one that didn’t exist. There was never a choice that was yours after you agreed to join the Sharian Guard - and even that was a choice between certain death and indentured servitude.

“Hal’e turbi hayatak biha?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, all hope of running dissipating, as you feel the Empress’s gaze on you, “Nam 'uqad hayati.”

The crowd cheers in time with the band, the low notes a quiet boom in the background, as you and your groom rise from your chairs and are led down the steps of your individual stages — you by the Empress and him by his mother. Other instruments join in with each delicate step you take, building to an inevitable crescendo when the two of you finally see each other for the first time.

The first time.

Your throat is dry, and swallowing does nothing to soothe the very much throbbing heart tangled in your vocal cords. You realize that he’s before you when the Empress’s guiding hand stops, drifting away from your shoulder. Thousands of eyes pierce you from every side, your knees threatening to knock together, but you will them to be still. Princesses of Shar did not shake — but of course, you thought mournfully, you were not one.

“Please lift the veil and allow your eyes to meet your betrothed,” the officiant orders.

Gentle fingers part your flowered veil, lifting it over your head. You blink.

Brown. That’s the first thing you notice when you see them. They were a softer brown than expected. You had heard the rumors about the prince — about his thrill seeking as a pilot and his disregard for the rules (authorizing an attack the Queen had explicitly objected to). You expected more fire, more darkness, and it was there — but there was something more you couldn't place. His eyes blinked as he saw you too, his lips parting, a gentle gaze caressing your face, instead of raking down its sides. His brow only ruffled for a moment, before he smiled Lips pulled wide into a smile and that's when you remembered — oh yes. You were supposed to be in love.

You match him in time, chiseling your expression into a shy gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. And his hand found yours easily, his fingers intertwining with his to face the crowd. Even as your stomach stuck to the soles of your feet, why was it that, even with a thousand eyes piercing you, you couldn't help but stare at him?

~~~

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#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagines #star wars imagines #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron fanfiction

127 notes · View notes

bellesque · 4 years

Note

Can you write a smut story with Loki?

Ask and you shall receive! Also on my AO3.

An Inspiring Distraction (Loki x Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 3.3K (yikes)

Tags/Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Orgasm Delay, Established Relationship

Summary: You’re adept at pretty much every genre. Except romance. You take to watching romance movies to help you along the creative process, only to be interrupted by the God of Mischief. Turns out, your boyfriend has a better idea of how to spark inspiration and get your juices - creative or otherwise - flowing.

A/N: Well. This turned out way longer (and way dirtier) than I originally planned. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this.

YOU REALLY TRY to ignore the interruption.

The tapping of a finger isn’t totally distracting, a light rhythm on the top of your shoulder. Almost feather-light. Only you expect it to end at some point, if you disregarded it long enough—but it doesn’t. The movie that plays on the screen in front of you has lost your focus, and because of that you huff in exasperation.

“Loki,” you whine, shifting from your position on your couch to sit up and whirl around to chastise your boyfriend.

Except he isn’t there.

You sigh loudly, hitting pause on your movie. “Loki,” you call again, this time with a little bite in your tone.

“You called, dearest?”

His voice comes from behind you, in between you and your television. You shift against the pillows. Most of the time, you loved Loki and all his tricks and games. Other times, like today—well, sometimes dating the God of Mischief had its disadvantages.

The only one being that he could be such a distraction.

You give him a pointed, unamused look in return of his smug, almost Cheshire cat-like grin. His eyes feign innocence, and you roll your own. “Was there any point to your little Morse code message on my shoulder?”

“Of course. I wanted your attention.”

“For what reason?”

“For no reason at all but to see your beautiful face.” Loki steps forward, and you fight the part of you that thaws at his compliment. Damn him and his silver tongue.

“Yeah, well, this beautiful face is still mad at you,” you mumble as he settles on the couch beside you, pulling your legs on his lap.

“You are most beautiful when you’re angry with me, sweetness. Why do you think I tease you so?” He grins at you in that way that causes your heart to seize (just a little; you won’t admit more than that), rubbing your bare calves absently.

You snort, turning your attention away from him and hoping that the warmth you feel in your face isn’t evident.

Loki too turns his gaze to the television in front of you, and you’re reminded to hit play. You allow yourself to relax into his touch as the movie continues, taking mental notes of key points you think would work in your own project. He’s quiet this time, thank goodness, allowing you to return to the level of focus you were at before his magic interrupted you.

He squints as soon as the music begins to soften and the sexual tension onscreen is evident. Leading to the iconic kiss, you can tell. This moment is big, you note, ready to take notes on every little detail that will concoct the perfect kiss—

“What are they doing?”

The speed at which you hit pause is surprisingly fast. “What does it look like, Loki?”

You can’t keep the frustration out of your tone this time. Your assigned project is a romance—a genre you are not well-versed in. Your concentration is broken and you’re not sure if you can pull off constructing a kiss scene that is both believable and emotional enough, and with enough steam that will fog the screens.

“I was not aiming for petulance this time, sweet. You would do well not to be angry with me over a simple question, gorgeous creature though you may be.”

His words are sweet enough, though you know it’s to mask the confusion—and probably slight hurt—he feels.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, reaching up to touch his forearm. “I’m just… it’s stupid. I have this big project coming up and it’s a romance. And that’s the thing I’m the least good at. I was hoping maybe this movie could give me a little inspiration, some tips.”

Loki quirks an eyebrow. “Am I mistaken about our arrangement? Are we not dating, pet? Shouldn’t you be drawing inspiration from your personal experiences?”

“It’s different,” you say, this time feeling the warmth of a blush creeping into your cheeks. “Not everyone has dated a god. And…” you trail off.

Loki looks at you expectantly. “And?”

“There needs to be a love scene.” The words tumble out, rushed and embarrassed.

Loki only laughs, sliding his hand onto the curve of your hip before resting his arm on the edge of the couch. “Alright sweet, let’s do it your way.”

“Thank you,” you say with finality, “now no more interruptions until this movie is done, agreed?”

“You have my word.”

True enough, you and Loki watch the movie in comfortable silence. You like to think maybe he’s even enjoying it a little at this point.

Well, until he’s the one pausing the movie.

“I cannot bear this anymore,” he says, rising to his feet.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“This—this show of yours.” He gestures at the TV. “Absolutely useless material for you, sweet. Bland and sloppy. Amateur at best.”

“I’ll have you know, Loki, a lot of people rave about this movie.”

“Yes, yes, you mortals have such poor taste in the arts because you fail to feel and capture the entirety of passion.” He offers you his hand. “It is up to me for your project to be as evocative as possible. Now. What is it that you want?”

“What I want?” you repeat, allowing Loki to lead you to your feet. “I’m not sure—”

“What aspect of romance, darling.” In an instant, Loki transforms his features into a shy, almost hesitant look, not meeting your eyes and shifting from foot to foot. “Is it the novelty of a new love, perhaps?” he asks, his voice timid and tentative.

You’re about to open your mouth to praise him, tell him that wow, he is a damn good actor, but just as quickly he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his body. You find your hands against the hard planes of his chest and in a split second he hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head upwards so you lock gazes. The way he looks at you is smoldering, intense and captivating as his eyes pin you in place and you notice just how green they are.

You focus on that color as you forget to breathe, a familiar tingle blooming in the pit of your stomach.

After what feels like way too many seconds, Loki’s eyes flit down to your lips, the subtle dip of his eyelids a subconscious message for you to follow suit in anticipation for a kiss. Sure enough, his head angles towards yours, his eyes fluttering closed as yours do, and your lips pucker just slightly.

The hand on the small of your back moves to the nape of your neck, keeping you in place, bringing you closer towards him for the kiss—

He stops a hairsbreadth away from you, his lips just barely brushing yours. “Or are you looking for the undeniable thrill that sexual tension brings?”

The spell he’s seemingly put you under is broken and your eyes snap open. Your heart is actually beating wildly in your chest, your breathing just the slightest bit heavier. Loki grins at you mischievously.

“Lo—”

Loki spins you around, this time switching your position so that your back is to his chest. One arm snakes around your waist, the tips of his fingers moving underneath your baggy shirt and skimming over your bare skin. His hand creeps up, up, up, until it’s resting under the swell of your breast, his breath hot at your ear.

“Or maybe…” he purrs, moving your hair to reveal your neck to him. He presses open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive spot just under your ear, the hand on your abdomen tracing absent circles now. You can feel the goose bumps rise on your skin, starting at the base of your breasts until your nipples prick up, and your entire body shivers of its own volition, all while Loki sucks a bruise into your neck. “Everything that comes with seduction.”

You exhale, your head falling back against Loki’s shoulder as he continues his ministrations. Everything with Loki is still fairly new, uncharted territory, and you’re honestly liking where this is going.

The plus is that it’s going to help with your project, most likely.

“What will it be, sweet?”

“M-maybe the second option? Or the third…? Since, I dunno, I think that’s what’ll be most helpful for the—the love scene.”

“Well then,” he murmurs in your ear, his silken voice drawing a wanting pang from you, “we’ll just have to continue what we started, won’t we?”

The speed at which Loki shifts your position—yet again—is disorienting. He spins you again so you’re facing him, and he hoists you into the air close to him until you’re sitting on his forearms with your legs nowhere to go but wrapped around his waist. Your hands bury themselves in his soft hair as Loki pulls down the collar of your shirt and begins sucking at the skin of your neck without warning.

“Loki!” you exclaim as he begins walking up the stairs, presumably—where else would you be going?—to the bedroom. The high-pitched squeak you emit as his teeth graze your skin somehow prompts him to squeeze your butt cheek just a little.

Loki uses his magic to fling the door open, a loud bang accompanying it. His lips detach from you as he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You notice that his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are a bit dilated, and you think it’s safe to say you look the same as well.

“I apologize if I got carried away earlier, my sweet. Now, the lesson begins here.” He stands, towering over your sitting figure. “You’ve had a taste of the emotions of romance with me as your partner, but think of this moment, specifically, to aid in your project. Was it a proper seduction? Enough for what you will be working on?”

You give it some careful thought. Or at least, you pretend to—because frankly, there is no way in hell you’re letting Loki leave you high and dry after his heavy petting.

“I think I’m seduced,” you say, surprised to find your voice a little shaky. “But I think it needs a little more… something, I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“So it was unsatisfactory.” Loki’s eyes glint a certain way; the kind of look you’ve associated with his games, only this one you’re playing seems to be a very sexual one. “What is it again that you need help with?”

“Romance…?”

“And which of my options will aid in your production?”

“The second or thir—”

Loki surges forward and takes your lips between his teeth, rolling his tongue over your bottom lip and then sucking. You barely register it when your back hits the softness of the mattress and Loki settles himself on top of you.

The way Loki’s lips and tongue moves over and with yours is absolute bliss, and you return his actions with equal fervor. His hands roam across your torso, one hand toying with the hem of your shirt until it slides underneath to caress your warm skin.

Loki pulls away from you and nuzzles your cheek with his nose. “This, sweet. This is what you should be aiming for. The chemistry between us is unrivaled and cannot be duplicated, but you may possibly write something very close to it.”

“Okay,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady and as casual as his seems to be. “Uh, I do have a few concerns about the love scene, though.”

He perks up at this, his eyebrows raising and the corners of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “Oh?”

You’re finding it increasingly difficult to form coherent sentences as Loki’s hand travels south and toys with the waistband of your shorts. A finger hooks underneath it, just briefly, before tracing a line from one side of your waist, over your stomach to the other side and back again.

“Y-yeah,” you manage to get out, sucking in a breath as Loki’s fingers dance over a sensitive spot you didn’t know you had, “like how would it transition smoothly from the making out to the actual, y’know—sex.”

The way you say sex is breathier than you want it to be, but it’s because of Loki’s stupid wandering hands leaving you a breathless mess. He’s looking at you, desire clouding his irises, and it takes your willpower not to drag his face back to your lips.

“Well, sweet, it would usually go like this—but, from here on out, no interruptions. Just let me show you…” And his mouth descends on yours again, hot and heavy. An inner voice cheers loudly at this victory, knowing that this is how Loki likes to play his games.

His hands begin to pull up the hem of your shirt over your head, your lips parting for the briefest of moments before he’s latching onto you again and tossing your shirt to the corner of the room. Fumbling, you undo the buttons of his black dress shirt and slide it down his shoulders.

Loki pulls away from you and smooths his hands over your body. “You are a goddess, my sweet.” He bends down and presses a kiss to the center of the column of your throat. “Absolutely breathtaking.” Another one in between your breasts. “Maddening.” Another, just above your navel. “My goddess.”

Butterflies bloom in your stomach at his words, and you feel an instinct to shower him in the same praise. “And you, Loki…” You bring him back up to eye level and try to roll on top of him. He lets you, your knees on either side of him. “You are just exquisite.” You kiss his Adam’s apple, where you feel it bob just slightly at your words. “Marvelous.” On his sternum. “My God of Mischief. My Prince of Asgard.” The final one, this time below his navel, dangerously close to the waistband of his pants.

Loki groans, fisting a handful of your hair. “You are the death of me, sweet.”

“Good,” you say, placing a hand over the tent in his pants and flashing him a devious grin. “I should be.”

Loki growls and pulls you up, rolling over so you’re pinned underneath him again. Your shorts disappear in a flash of green, leaving you in only your underwear.

“Hey, no fair, you used magi—ah—” your complaint is cut off by Loki’s mouth on your breast, his other hand pinching and tweaking. Pleasure hums throughout your body.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Loki comments, smiling victoriously until your hand slides underneath his pants and cups his erection—at which his jaw slackens and he groans.

He cups your mound in response and then maneuvers your underwear to the side. Without missing a beat, he slides two fingers into your slickness. This time, it’s your turn to let out a moan. You grip his erection more tightly, pumping up and down, feeling the trickle of precum on your inner wrist, and Loki curls his fingers inside you. Your body arches upwards.

“All this be damned,” he mutters, and with a green shimmer you and he are naked. Loki presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing lazy yet purposeful circles over it, all the while his other fingers continue pumping in and out of you.

Your hand probably stops groping him at some point; your mind is frayed with the pleasure his hands are giving you, but you’re jolted back when you feel him jerk in your hand. Curiously, you swipe a finger of the slit of his head, and Loki’s hips and fingers stutter.

“Loki,” you breathe, gyrating on his fingers, “I need you inside me now.”

He doesn’t say anything, but covers your neck with a wet, hot kiss, applying just a little more pressure on your clit. You bite back a moan and decide to squeeze him harder, your other hand raking a stripe down his back.

“Need to cum soon,” you pant. “I think you do too.”

Loki pulls his fingers out of you and wordlessly places his fingers in his mouth, tasting you, all the while never breaking eye contact. It’s erotic, maybe a little obscene, but your libido only skyrockets.

“I want your eyes on me at all times.” His voice is dark with desire, practically dripping lust, and you nod, swallowing thickly.

Loki positions the head of his cock at your dripping slit, tracing over it with excruciating slowness until you’re covered in each other’s slick. He rests a finger on top of your clit, and then in a fluid motion he buries himself to the hilt as he presses on your bundle of nerves.

Closing your eyes at the heaven you’re both feeling, you both moan, a broken harmony, and the sound adds to the arousal you both feel.

“You are so warm and wet for me. It is almost unbelievable,” he murmurs.

“Your cock feels really good inside me,” you whisper, a little ashamed once it leaves your lips. But Loki doesn’t seem to mind—in fact, he seems to relish the praise. You stay unmoving for a while, your cunt experimentally fluttering around him, until you can see Loki’s restraint is hanging by a thread.

You grind your hips, a silent signal for him to move within you, and soon you’re a breathy, writhing mess beneath him as he thrusts, first slowly, until his movements increase in speed, a crescendo you can also feel in your body.

You feel yourself coming close to the edge of release, the coiling of energy deep within your core, and you reach down to guide his fingers to your clit.

And when his fingers begin their familiar rhythm, his lips crash onto yours in an urgent attempt for dominance, you clamp your walls around him and Loki groans into your mouth. He presses harder against your clit and he swallows the wanton moan that spills from your lips.

“I’m going to cum,” you tell him, feeling the familiar sensation burning even hotter now. “Cum with me. Please, Loki, I need you to.”

Loki’s jaw is set, beads of sweat forming on the top of his forehead. With a little growl he spreads your legs even wider and ruts into you, hard and fast, though only for a moment. His movements slow to a lazy pace, sliding in and out of you while his hands circle your clit in the same rhythm.

“Loki,” you whine. “Please.”

“I’d like to draw it out.”

“You already are, so just fuck me already.”

You clamp down exceptionally hard around him this time, and Loki captures your lips in a kiss as he goes back to the breakneck speed you were in earlier.

And then you feel your orgasm begin to crest, you and Loki moving in sync, your nails raking patterns all over his back you’re sure they’ll be red raw later.

He presses exceptionally hard, rubbing your clit between his fingers as his other hand cups your breast. “Cum now, sweet.”

Your body shudders as you feel the white hot pleasure explode within you, your walls fluttering around Loki’s cock as you cum with a cry. You feel Loki’s close too, so you continue rhythmically squeezing his cock until he cums with his own shuddering groan.

Loki takes your face in his hand and he kisses you, languid and lazy, as you both ride out each other’s orgasms. He rests his forehead against yours before rolling onto his back, pulling you on top of him.

“That was…” you begin after a few minutes of silent cuddling. You stroke his chest.

“Perfect for your project, correct?” he says, planting a kiss in your hair.

A warmth begins to spread across your lower regions. You prop yourself up on your elbow, giving him a particularly blatant nonchalant look. “I don’t know. I think I need to do a little bit more research.”

Loki pulls you down over his chest, his hands playing with the ends of your hair. “Devilish woman,” he comments affectionately. “Wherever do you get it from?”

“A certain God of Mischief.” Your hand snakes down to between his legs.

“Now. I think it’s time for lesson number two.”

Maybe some distractions are worth entertaining after all.

#thenatallie #fic request #tom hiddleston fic requests #reader request #loki x reader #loki x you #loki fic requests #loki imagine #tom hiddleston imagine #by belle

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cv-nobody-and-associates · 3 years

Text

Foggyvent Epilogue, and a new beginning

Nobody Wants To Know

Part I – Prologue

The Hub was an interesting place. A meeting place among the infinite dimensions across the multiverse, it was a large and vaguely dome-shaped space with a pale silver colour in the sky and a metallic texture to its walls and floor. It was filled with tables and chairs of various sizes and shapes to accommodate all of the physical impossibilities that would find themselves sitting there, and it was at one such table that Nobody found herself in conversation with her succubus companion, Zila.

The two had loved one another from their first meeting, and as such when Nobody needed comfort and answers after her experience with the fog, there was only one person she sought out. Launch was a close second, but her second partner was rather difficult to track down on most occasions, and was usually not interested in getting involved in serious matters such as this, preferring to take a more background role.

“…And then the vision passed.” Nobody finished her recounting of exactly what she had seen in the fog – the two figures that taunted her and the vision of those she cared about most laying dead at her feet. “I still don’t know what it truly meant, but ever since I’ve been feeling…different than I used to. I don’t think that I only saw my fears.”

“You think it was some kind of vision?” Zila said, in that youthful silken voice of hers. In more pleasant circumstances, Nobody could lose herself in that wondrous sound, but at the moment she had more pressing concerns. Still, even watching Zila’s beautiful skin and golden blond hair, gazing into her piercing yellow eyes as she spoke, brought Nobody comfort.

“Sort of.” Nobody answered. “Not a vision of the future, but perhaps it was showing me some truth within myself. Something I have been incapable of remembering for whatever reason. Perhaps a good reason.” Zila seemed to frown at that, and Nobody almost felt dumb for even suggesting the idea. At times, Zila’s charisma was infectious even without her willing it. One of many features that came from being a Succubus. Two drinks arrived at their table, which Zila took, passing one to Nobody, who nodded her thanks.

“What kinda ‘good reason’,” Zila said, emphasising the air-quotes. “Would there be for not knowing who you are?” She asked. Nobody shrugged in response, uncertain of how to answer the question herself.

“I can only conclude it’s something my employer would want.” She replied. “Kuryo has informed me that my existence has certain terms, namely serving him on my missions. This could be another?” Nobody shook her head. “I’m really not sure, and it’s something I intend to look into. But it’s not the only reason I came here.”

“Oh?” Zila said, placing her head forward and resting it on one slender yet well-toned blue arm. She grinned for a moment, showing pale white fanged teeth for just a moment. Behind her question-marked face, Nobody smiled warmly, and placed her hand on Zila’s free one.

“I also came to see you.” She said happily. Zila’s face blushed a warm red colour, something that Nobody found adorably amusing. “After seeing the other vision, seeing you lifeless… I had to. I’m sure my friends would consider it selfish, but I won’t apologise for my devotion to you surpassing any other factors.”

“You mean everything to me, Zila.”

“Y-you’re just trying to make me blush!” Zila playfully protested, quickly putting her hands to her face and shaking side to side, a sight that made Nobody laugh, with a genuineness she hadn’t felt in quite some time. Zila took a moment to calm herself before speaking again.

“What about your other partner? Lift-off or Rise or something like that?�� She asked, and Nobody sighed.

“Launch.” She corrected. “I love them too. Of course I do, and there’s next to nothing I wouldn’t do for them. We’ve discussed this before, and nothing has changed.”

“Nothing?” Zila asked. “Wait, does that mean that they still don’t know about… you know, about us?”

“Whether or not they’re aware, I cannot say.” Nobody said, leaning back in her seat and sipping her drink, an odd substance that tasted vaguely like orange juice despite looking like clear water. “But I have yet to have the opportunity to tell them. I intended to, but then they died.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Don’t panic, it wasn’t permanent.” Nobody chuckled, and Zila sighed in relief. “I don’t fully understand the details, but they have a system in place that makes them essentially immortal. They respawned, and sent me their location. Alas, I was unable to find them before getting side-tracked by work. We next saw each other at the New Year’s party on Creatorverse, Internia. And only briefly before disaster struck.”

“What kind of disaster?” Zila asked. She was always curious about Creatorverse, a world that she herself had yet to visit. “Was it those Blockhead things you told me about?” Nobody shook her head.

“No, I’m told it was Mori.” Zila nodded, vaguely recalling what Nobody had said about the mysterious Mori.

“That’s the destroyer god, right?” She asked. Nobody thought for a moment, then shrugged.

“Something like that, I think. I forget the full story, and no one ever seems to agree on the details.” She answered. “All I know is that Mori used to live in Creatorverse, but was exiled for some reason, and now they want to destroy us all for revenge?” Zila raised an eyebrow.

“That sounds kinda fishy.”

“I agree.” Nobody nodded. “But it’s not really my business to examine it further. I’ve got nothing against Mori, nor any of their companions. I’ll only intervene if absolutely necessary. Not my fight.”

“So, they sabotaged the party?” Nobody nodded at Zila’s deduction.

“Indeed. They were also responsible for releasing the fog. I think they were trying to get some kind of paperwork using it, but I don’t believe I caught the full message before I left. I didn’t see Launch at all after New Year’s. I hope they avoided the fog.”

“I hope they’re okay too.” Zila said comfortingly. “Based on what you’ve told me, they sound pretty cool.” She smiled at Nobody.

“If they only seem ‘pretty cool’, I must have undersold them.” Nobody joked, and the two laughed pleasantly for a few moments.

“Hopefully I’ll get to meet them someday.” Zila said. Nobody nodded, raising her glass.

“With any luck. It would be great for all three of us to hang out sometime.” The two lovers clinked their glasses together happily and drank for a moment. There was a pause before Zila spoke again, this time nervously.

“If…” She hesitated, and Nobody leaned forward, listening intently. “If you had to choose. If you had to choose between me or them-”

“I’d choose you.” Nobody cut her off. “I love Launch, I care for them a lot, but you’re always my number one priority.”

“Thank you.” Zila said after a moment, shining clear watery tears.

“No need to thank me for honesty.” Nobody replied. “But enough about me. How have you been? Hopefully you’ve been doing better than my vision suggested.” She joked, which caused Zila to chuckle before groaning into her hands at the thought of how things had been going for her.

“Ugh. Let’s just say I’m glad you’re here. Things haven’t been going well since our last meeting.” Nobody took a long sip of her drink.

“Oh, trouble at work?” Nobody asked, setting Zila off.

“You have no idea!” She cried, throwing her arms up in frustration for a moment. “All I’m trying to do is seduce people and take their souls, but everyone keeps trying to get feelings involved! It’s so uncomfortable. I’m just there to fuck, not for love.”

“That’s not how I remember our times in bed.” Nobody said light-heartedly. “I seem to recall us being very passionate indeed, in more ways than just physical.” Zila froze for a moment, going red.

“You’re the exception.” She said, seemingly both flustered and amused. “No one else is like you, ya know.”

“I believe I do.” Nobody nodded. Her thoughts wandered back to her vision in the fog for another moment. “Although I find myself wondering as to what I am like now. There’s still so much I don’t know…” She trailed off, something Zila noticed.

“It’s the vision, isn’t it?” She asked, to which Nobody nodded. “If it’s bugging you so much, you gotta go look into it.” Nobody looked up for a moment.

“I…” She stumbled over her words. “I have some ideas. Nothing concrete, but there are a few places that might hold some answers for me.” She thought for a moment.

“The other Nobodies.”

“Pardon?”

“When I enter another world, there is only one me.” Nobody began to explain frantically. “I just change to fit that world and its rules. But there are three exceptions I know of. One I made, one I chose, and one took the name herself. Three other Nobodies. And if I am included, there are three people within me. It’s not a coincidence, I just don’t know how it connects.” Zila smiled happily. Hearing Nobody ramble so passionately always brought her joy.

And if she was being honest, she had certain ideas for what to do with three Nobody’s…

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go check them out!” Zila encouraged. Nobody smiled beneath her question-marked face and burst forth from her seat, before remembering a crucial detail she had forgotten.

“WAIT, CV!” She yelled in a panic. “I was meant to get some things! Vanilla extract and a big magic supply! And I was meant to help those outside in the fog!”

“Wait, the fog was still happening when you got here?!” Zila shrieked in surprise. “I thought it was done!”

“I’M SORRY, I HAD TO SEE YOU!” Nobody said in response. Zila stood for a moment, briefly going red before sighing.

“Hun, I love you, but sometimes you can be a real dumbass.” Nobody nodded at Zila’s wisdom, chuckling a little. “Give me a sec, I’ll help.” Nobody gave Zila a quick hug in response to her words.

“Thanks Zila, you’re a life saver!” Zila rolled her eyes but gave Nobody a loving smile as she gently left her arms, and opened up a flaming portal. One of the perks of being a succubus was the ability to essentially travel anywhere, and in style to boot.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” Zila said, before blowing a kiss at Nobody, which the question mark girl happily caught. She then vanished through the portal.

As she waited for Zila’s return, Nobody took the time to write a small note to apologise for her absence.

Dear Shandy, or whoever else finds this note,

I apologise for failing in my duties during the Fog Outbreak. I had much to do, and some crucial personal business that I am afraid takes priority over anything and anyone within the city. Said personal business is also why I will not be returning in person.

The Fog may have shown others their fears, but to me it showed a vision. It allowed for some part of me long forgotten to connect to the rest, and I now need to find answers. I understand if you will not forgive me, but I shall not apologise.

However, thanks to a special someone, I have some gifts I had promised, that I hope shall make up for my extended absence.

Take care, and don’t die,

Nobody In Particular

Zila returned as soon as she had finished writing the letter, holding a rather nice-looking woven basket.

“Alright, I got you a bunch of Vanilla extract, a duplication ring they can use to get more, and…” She took out a large black sphere that seemed to hold within it a burning white-hot flame. “One Hell Pandora. It’s a magic sphere that holds some of the most potent powers and souls from hell, like a pocket dimension. Don’t worry about using souls, they were in Hell for a reason.”

Nobody nodded, taking the basket and briefly opening a portal of her own. She placed it carefully at the door of the council building, never fully stepping through. Once she was sure it had been safely placed down, she came back to The Hub.

She then wrapped Zila in a tender embrace, and after a moment the gesture was returned.

“I may not know the full story of who I am,” She began, before moving to look Zila right in the eyes, holding her by the shoulders. “But I know that I love you, and I always will.” After a moment’s hesitation, Nobody peeled back the question-mark face she wore, revealing her True Form and its human face beneath. Then, she gently removed that face as well, showing off the face of her Final Form.

Her right eye was finally open, a prism of strange and interdimensional energy held within it. Her natural blonde hair now stood in eerily still spikes, mixing with a misty aura around her. Her mouth was now masked with a deep purple and black misty aura, mixed with fiery fangs.

This was Nobody in her purest state, something that only Zila had ever seen. And whilst most avoided it as much as possible due to its fearful effects, Zila only ever admired it as she did all aspects of her lover.

Gently, Nobody kissed Zila, letting their mouths come to a pleasant embrace. It was all too brief for the both of them, but at the same time it was also a moment that neither would ever forget.

“No matter who you become, I’ll always love you.” Zila said, gently caressing Nobody’s face as it morphed back to its default question-mark state.

“Now go.” She spoke. “I’ll be waiting for when you return.”

And with those final words, Nobody departed, beginning her search for answers.

[END]

AN: Thanks for reading this! This started as just an epilogue for the Creatorverse Foggyvent, but I’ve been working on some of Nobody’s backstory and lore, so the idea to expand this struck me as an excellent way to explore it! The three other Nobody’s mentioned are all characters that I created, and the only AU Nobody’s to not just be the canon one shifting based on the world she’s in.

I should probably give some context for that. The short version is that Nobody is an extra-dimensional being. Specifically, she is a Fusion, which in this case means she is a cross between the souls of a Creator from Internia and an entity known as a Void Demon, an energy being that lives in the Void, a space between realities. Both of these are separate from Nobody, who is a third being created from combining the previous two. More info will be revealed as the story progresses.

As for Zila, she’s another sona of mine! I made her to be a somewhat less complex character than Nobody, who has a lot more complex lore behind her. So Zila’s whole deal is that she’s a Succubus from a realm known as Hell, and she travels across realms to…well, do what Succubi do. I’d be happy to talk more about her if asked.

Worth noting, Nobody is indeed canonically cheating on Zila with Launch, even though Zila is aware and fine with it. It’s not a poly without everyone knowing what’s going on and giving consent, and since Nobody has yet to tell Launch about Zila, it’s cheating. Out of character, Zila is just another representation of me just like Nobody. They’re both parts of me. So, unless dating literally myself counts, no IRL relationships are affected whatsoever.

There’s more I could ramble on about, but I don’t want to drag this AN out for too long, so I’ll leave you here. I hope you enjoyed this!

#creatorverse #my post #Nobody Lore #Nobody Wants To Know #Foggyvent #epilogue #Also a prologue

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haiky-u-lously · 4 years

Text

King Kuroo and the Red Knights (10)

Summary:

A Camelot AU where King Arthur is Kuroo Tetsuro, and the Knights of the Roundtable of characters from seasons 1-4 of the HQ anime. Eventual Kuroo X Reader.

Themes:

Action/fighting/killing, dead bodies, Fluff, Angst, Humor, Eventual Romance

Warnings:

Mentions of stalking and abuse of power, Language, Angst in feelings, Gore and fighting, mention of explosion, mention of seeing dead bodies

Word Count:

For Chapter: ~2300words

Questions/Comments/Concerns/Ideas welcome as always.

-Admin Red

Hello once again! It’s been two weeks since my last update, But I hope those still following this story continue to do so, and hope with all my heart that you still enjoy reading it.

I want to put out a generalized thank you to everyone who has messaged and commented in support of this story it really brought me to tears (happily) as I could tell people were looking at this as being the work of a fellow human and not just as a writing tool to be manipulated. I felt your kindness in my soul, and am truly grateful for your well wishes and support.

It’s hard for me to continually type out still so I will leave this note at that!

I hope you like this next installment. Enjoy!

–Admin Red

Chapter 10: Day of the Tournament

“Very well then,” Kuroo announced happily as soon as the last straggler fighting in the event entered the main hall. “Futa will now explain the matches. Futa!”

The magician looked caught off guard, “Why do I have to..? Oh, hells. fine! Fine, whatever. Just make the servant do all the talking. Of course your royal chicken head!”

Laughing at the comment, the overall mood seemed to return to the happiness felt when the day first started.

“You’re pretty stiff. Something happen after I left?” Suga whispered to you from his place at your side.

Holding your hand, palm of your glove up for him to see, you rolled your thumb. A sign, meant to symbolize you’d discuss it later.

He nodded once, and your pair moved your attention back to the men of Camelot.

“So the first groups are still the most entertaining, I think.” Futakuchi laughed heartily, “On one side we’ll see the twins fighting one another, and the other fight will be between Teru and Satori.”

“Yes!” Satori exclaimed, jumping in his excitement.

Terushima laughed to himself, “Don’t get too excited, you will lose this time too.”

“Bet you training the new recruit duties that I win this time!” Satori happily challenged. He’d been hoping for a chance to challenge the other knight since losing the bet to kill the most enemies during the castle’s attack.

“Sure you can handle mucking out the stalls and training recruits all day?” Terushima teased, sticking his tongue out with confidence in his ability to win.

The pair kept commenting back and forth about who was truly the better knight. It made everyone in the room laugh, even some of the more quiet members of the knighthood like Aone who was smiling behind his fists.

“Guess we are fighting again Atsu.” Osamu looked to his brother after calming his own laughter.

The blonde twin looked him over, “Fighting again? You say that as if you’ve ever beat me in a battle.”

“Oh? Perhaps I should stop taking it easy on you if you have the confidence to say that.” His brother countered.

Atsumu threw his head back with joy at the challenge, “Oh Samu, you wish you could defeat me. But if it helps you to sleep at night to think you’ve taken it easy on me, then you can hold on to that dream.”

Yamagata and Iwaizumi looked at one another before doubling over in laughter, both knowing that Osamu was being honest in having always taken it easy on his brother.

Dachi and Asahi just smiled as they appreciated how the first fighters were already getting so invested in their fights, knowing everyone would feel pressure to do their best following the four.

“Yes, well. I did say they’d be the most entertaining, didn’t I?” Futakuchi recalled the attention of everyone in the room, ready to explain the rest of the tournament pairings. “The next two groups of fighters should also yield something interesting. We have Bokuto versus Aone on one side, and Asahi against our visitor, the Red Knight on the other.”

“You want me to fight our guest after having traveled non-stop the last two days?! Kuroo, I have no information of them, how do you expect this to go?!” Asahi exclaimed incredulously.

Suga laughed seeing your shoulders jump slightly a few times. But he smiled at his old friend and questioned, “Should you really be so afraid of a one-on-one battle when you are a big bad knight of Camelot, Azumane?”

“Oh! Suga, at least if I was fighting you I’d have prior knowledge of your old fighting style to consider.” Asahi threw back, still seemingly frightened at the idea of facing the unknown entity as he viewed you as.

“Well, maybe, had you arrived on time, or sent back word when you’d received the letter things would be different. But sadly, this is how it must be.” Kuroo teased, a grin on his face. He’d been nervous when the squire had referred to his knight by ‘Azumane’ and their apparent connection, but was calmed discovering his punishment still held by the knight not knowing the main guest’s fighting ability. “Please continue, Futa.” The King moved on, still grinning in a mischievous way that made the knights closest to him shiver in slight fear of what he could be thinking.

The magician looked between Asahi and Kuroo, noting the disbelieving shock on the knight’s face and how it contrasted the nearly evil grin of the King’s. “Right...uh,” He stammered before looking at the parchment to stall while he took a breath, “The third side-by-side match will be completed by Yamagata and Sugawara, while I face Semi. And, before anyone starts commenting, let me just get through the last pairings. Thanks!” He spoke almost directly to Bokuto and Semi, thinking one of the men may try to comment about not being in the star matches. “The last matches will be Iwa versus Daichi, and Ushijima against Kuroo.”

“Great!” Kuroo called, happily clapping his hands together and bringing all attention to his now standing form, “So, you all have your pairings for the first round! We have about an hour before we get started, so please get ready and meet out on the field soon! See you then!”

“Kuroo.” Ushijima called, stopping the King in his tracks, “Is Yuurei or Daishou attending?”

Kuroo laughed a bit embarrassingly as he looked anywhere but towards any of the others in the room before responding, “Well Daishou is still on his trip so he won’t join. And the Queen said she wasn’t feeling well last night…and told me she will stay in for the next few days. So, in terms of who is attending from the royals of Camelot, it’ll just be me.”

“Then!?” Yamagata nervously stood, hands slamming against the table as he looked to Futakuchi questionably.

“I don’t have a problem fighting with magic if those two aren’t attending. But I think that will be an unfair advantage against all you weak knights.” He laughed out in response.

Semi scowled, “Is this payback for talking back, Kuroo?”

The King shrugged before leaving the hall entirely.

______________________________

With the King removed from the room, the tension from outside returned once more amongst many of those left inside.

“So, now that we can question you with your mouthpiece here…” Yamagata growled through clenched teeth.

Semi joined his friend’s change in attitude and directed his ire towards you and Suga, “Please, do explain exactly what is your true purpose in coming to Camelot.”

Though his words made it seem like a request, the knight’s tone and facial expression made clear that it was a demand.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Bokuto called, hesitatingly standing with his hands outstretched before him, “What’s going on now? Weren’t we all just excited about the tournament? What happened?”

Your form going stiff told Suga that you'd said more than he would have after he left you alone with the knights in front of the castle. “I have to agree, I am a bit confused by this hostility.” He added to Bokuto’s questions.

“Right, like we should believe you have no clue what we mean.” Iwaizumi scoffed, sitting back further into his seat and crossing his arms over his chest.

Bowing your head, you did the only thing you could at the moment to both apologize to the men of Camelot and let your friend know you’d gone against his original plan.

Daichi clicked his tongue before giving a bit more information to Suga and those that had already gone inside before everything was said, “Ushijima asked the Red Knight some questions regarding your visit. When he asked if you were really only here to see if the Order and Camelot can be allied again, the Knight shook his head in the negative. He pressed further to see if there were negative intentions towards Camelot, and the Knight seemed adamant that there wasn’t, but it still bears the question. Exactly what else are you here for? And why keep it a secret? Do you plan to betray us?”

Suga’s eyes were glued to you, you could feel the pressure of his shocked expression through your helmet and closed your eyes reflexively.

But instead of yelling at you, or completely blowing your secret by removing your headpiece in retaliation, which you would have accepted as a fair punishment, your friend just sighed. Long and loud.

The sound echoed around the room long after he’d shut his mouth and only after the echo subsided did the silver-haired man posing as a squire of the order answer any of the asked or unasked questions.

“As all but Futakuchi now know, my cousin is in fact the Princess of the Red Knight Order.” Futakuchi’s gasp of surprise did not deter your friend from his explanation, “We have other goals than just the one presented to you all of seeing if the Order can realign itself with Camelot. One of which has to do with the Princess. But I cannot share details of that until we decide on the alliance or not. I hope this is acceptable for you but we can understand if you feel it unjust. There’s just nothing we can do about that fact right now.” He breathed deeply before closing his eyes tight in preparation for his next revelation.

You’d both known the knights would find out at some point, and perhaps it was better they learned outside the purview of the King, so you could get an opinion from Camelot’s populace before their royalty. So, you looked to Suga as his hands made fists under the table. Grabbing one with your own, you told him to share about yourself so he didn’t face the criticism alone.

“The other is to see how accepting or not the people, royals and therefore Kingdom of Camelot is accepting of the art of magic. Since, in the Order, everyone of us holds powers.”

The silence that followed his confession was deafening. Despite it being bright and sunny outside you thought you could hear crickets chirping around you.

“That’s it?” Osamu asked disbelievingly.

When Suga and you both nodded, both kind of confused at the question, everyone in the room laughed out in various degrees.

“We figured at least one of you had powers like Futa!” Terushima called excitedly.

“Really though,” Satori added, jabbing his friend with his elbow, “Since the first night when Futa said you knew he held magic we figured one if not both of you were magicians like him.”

Bokuto laughed the loudest before yelling out, “It makes total sense why I couldn’t just open your doors now! You were locking me out with magic!” After saying so he pouted, “That’s rude!”

Which sent everyone back into fits of laughter.

Suga and you looked to one another in pure confusion, even though the knights’ reaction wasn’t negative it was still very surprising.

“You said your goals weren’t against Camelot, and since these guys trust you, I had no reason to doubt that.” Ushijima tossed out as way of an explanation.

Aone shook his head, “Just like Futa, magicians don’t trust easily.”

“I guess I sort of remembered you having some magic from when we were kids, so I’m not too surprised either,” Asahi sheepishly said.

“Well, I guess that’s good enough for us to not doubt you again,” Yamagata laughed away as if he hadn’t brought the issue back up to begin with.

Semi shook his head, “Now I want you to approve us to see what this reason for the Princess is. If you take it so seriously about telling us you hold magic, can’t wait to see that ridiculous confession. Apologies for taking it so far asking about ulterior motives or such.”

The laughs on your and Suga’s behalf continued until he finally joined in with his own giggles of disbelief.

“Oh, is that why we felt more power during the attack?” Iwaizumi suddenly asked with a sense of seriousness.

Suga nodded before giving more detail, “The Red Knight used a spell to transfer strength from your enemies to you, so every time you’d hit them you’d get back the strength and energy you’d exerted.”

“That’s crazy!” Daichi exclaimed.

“Futa, why’d you never use such a spell in any of our fights?” Osamu asked teasingly, with a grin on his face.

The attendant just looked between everyone before letting his jaw drop in absolute shock. “I-I di-didn’t even know such a s-sp-spell ex-existed! Wait! So, you both have powers, not just you, Suga? How can I not see his?!”

Suga scratched at the back of his neck as you stood and indicated your armor.

“Oh, I see. Is that why you wear it then?” Atsumu asked, noting that you were saying the armor protected you from detection.

At your nodding, everyone just accepted the nonverbal reasoning.

“Well, I hope this clears up any confusion from the Red Knight’s inability to explain earlier.” Suga half asked of the men before him and half chastised your inability to think of your position yet again.

All the men in front of you either nodded or verbalized their acceptance.

“No!” Yamagata exclaimed out loud, launching himself from his seat and looking between Futakuchi and Suga, “You’re telling me I have to go against two magic wielders?!”

Many of the knights around him laughed at the man’s lack of tact and unfortunate line-up.

“That means I’m fighting one too?” Asahi shuddered at the thought, causing everyone in the room to laugh harder.

Suga smiled and nodded to you, reiterating that what he’d told Futakuchi about only using his magics against another holder would hold true even though the knights of Camelot now knew your secret. You nodded back, agreeing to the sentiment, but smiled along while the knights picked on their two friends who seemed to draw the short sticks in terms of first round opponents.

_______________________________________________

Table of contents:

Chapter 9 Chapter 11

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tarithenurse · 4 years

Text

Stolen - 19

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson &/x fem!gifted!reader Content: Frigga <3 Some angsting and feels and pining. A/N: So apparently visits by relatives to patients are going to be unrestricted from now on (government’s decision) which means one of the most important ways to control the risk of Corona within the health care system is gonna be flushed down the drain. If a second wave is gonna hit in my country, it’ll start now...and I’m still wiped out after the last 6 months of strain/stress/etc.

19. Strange Same Dogma

... Loki ...

He’s at [Y/N]’s side when she approaches the gates to Valhalla the next day. Disguised as her servant, Loki’s role is mute whenever others are nearby (unless addressed directly) though he is prepared to whisper advice discreetly if the guards prove difficult.

Two golden-armoured einherjar are in their usual spots, blocking the way, but neither are given a chance to speak before the Midgardian embraces her role. “My name is [Y/N] and I have come to seek audience with queen Frigga. I know you must confer with her majesty, however my travels have led me far since I left Alfheim and the gracious hospitality of the High Priestess.” With the Älfir garb and the impeccable posture, she looks the part. “I presume temporary accommodations can be arranged.”

The last bit carries the tiniest hint of a question’s intonation, precisely enough to prevent coming over as either rude or begging, and as one einherjar ensures the message of the visitor is relayed the other calls for a servant to arrange (and escort the duo to) a waiting chamber.

It takes a moment before Loki is alone with the mortal again and he knows the peace will be short lived.

“I’m impressed, my pet.” He adores the way [Y/N] beams with pride. “Anyone would assume you are of royal heritage.”

Any other words dry up in his throat and the former prince allows himself to fall silent, eyes seemingly studying the familiar stones beneath his feet while in reality gazing unseeingly.

He’s home. Frigga’s lullabies ghost these halls at the edge of hearing, calling for the lost child to retrace the paths from years ago even now as time and fate have warped him into the grown man he is today. How long has it been? Surely, not long enough that he cannot find the way around the palace blindfolded if need be. And, oh, to revisits the favourite nooks and best reading spots or to climb the spires only to greet the first stars even before they have dared look above the horizon. Loki’s heart clenches at the madman’s hope of strolling through his mother’s garden which smells of herbs and safety.

... Reader ...

The place is much grander than your wildest imaginations had prepared you for. Gold, rich stones and woods, precious stones, all coming together in sharp lines reaching high above you. The place does not hold the natural flow of Alfheim’s temple – there, Art Nouveau from Earth had been the closest resemblance – rather favouring something akin to Art Deco. Still, neither style truly encompasses what you see or have seen and if given the freedom, you’d easily spend hours studying the palace.

But, sitting in silence, all the decadence of the room loses the welcoming glamour as a chill saturates the air. You instinctively move to sit next to Loki on the pillow-covered bench. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t seem to notice your closeness. Leaning in slightly, you don’t see tears in those emerald eyes of his but are met with a pained emptiness. It’s haunting.

What can I do? Nervous of potential violent reactions, you don’t exactly feel like shaking him out of the stupor – whatever you decide to do must be subtle. Your gaze falls to where he has drawn his lips into a thin line and of course you wonder how it would feel if to have his mouth respond if you were to kiss him. Don’t be an idiot! No, the man might have taken a liking to teasing you but while it’d doesn’t make sense why, you know it can’t be from wanting you.

So, you do the only thing you can think of and slip your fingers in between his, squeezing the cool hand gently in the same rhythm of your breathing.

Time pass. The wintry bite in the air softens. Loki’s breathing slowly adapts to match the speed indicated with each careful nudge of your fingers. Eventually, his hand curls to return the gesture, and now the lack of words is peaceful, a sacred promise of a haven for all that remains unspoken.

One final squeeze, then Loki disentangles from the hold to shrug. “We must uphold the charade of Lady and servant, my dear.”

You know he’s right...but it your heart still objects to the distance when you return to the previous seat. You’re glad when, just as expected, it doesn’t take long before a guard arrives with an update.

“Queen Frigga has accepted the request for an audience.” Both of you get up. “Only you, lady [Y/N].”

This isn’t part of the plan and you can’t help glancing to Loki who nods imperceptibly as he sits back down. There’s a calm in his eyes that soothes you. The man might have gotten you wrapped up in his messy life, but you have no doubt anymore: he’ll see you through it too.

Turning to face the guard, you straighten up. “Of course.”

...

The queen of Asgard is not alone when you’re shown into the grand room. A host of other women, presumably a mix of servants and nobles, are gathered around her like a space posse with snacks, drinks, and gossip which continues uninterrupted as you enter. Stopping just past the door, forlorn at the sight of the gorgeousness of it all, the guard pushes you gently towards a woman at the centre.

Frigga is sitting on a couch, deeply engrossed in conversation with a couple of the other ladies. Her blond hair is done up elaborately with the exception of a few long ringlets and the dress is the most heavenly sky-blue, flowy thing – the kind you’ve only seen in fantasy books or medieval images.

“Your highness,” your escort announces, “lady [Y/N] of...” his voice trails off, unsure how to finish as you never told him where you’re from.

Managing an awkward bow, nothing has prepared you for Loki’s mother swooping over to grasp both your hands.

“Lady [Y/N]! I’m delighted to meet you!” The wholehearted smile dazzles you as some of her son is evident in the gleam of her eye. “Rumour of your prowess precedes you. Come, sit with me.”

Frigga doesn’t have to say anything for the two conversational ex-partners to get up with delicate nods. Even with the purple, Älfir dress you’re wearing, you feel out of place – a commoner pretending to be royal. That’s exactly what I’m doing. And you’re glad to have your hands back as your palms start to get sweaty.

“Forgive the informal welcome, we were not aware of your arrival.”

Frowning slightly, you can’t detect the sarcasm Loki has introduced to your daily life. “My travels have held several surprises even for me.” Please don’t dig in it.

The smirk familiar despite the shimmer of something unidentifiable. “I know the Älfir were saddened when you took your leave. How did you find your stay there?”

“Oh, the planet is breathtaking and they are very kind and generous!” At least this isn’t a lie.

“The first is indisputable, though I dare say not many will agree on the latter...however,” the queen reconsiders, “I suppose you are special to them as you have saved their High Priestess.”

They’re not friendly normally? “I...I guess...” A nagging in the back of your mind has been activated and you know it won’t stop until you’ve asked Loki about a couple of things.

“No need for modesty, lady [Y/N].” Again, Frigga looks genuinely delighted. “A mortal, but with the magic of old Alfheim running through the veins...it is no wonder they welcomed you as they did.” Oh? “Please indulge me: how has this come to be? Who has trained you in the arts of magic?”

And there it is: the gaping hole surrounding the ability you’ve grown up with.

For years, you felt like a freak. No one were like you or could tell you why songs with strange words would well out of your mouth. It had isolated you more often than not, forcing you to start over when people who didn’t understand started to fear you instead. I did no harm. But that had never mattered. It was enough to simply be different.

Pushing the memories aside, you look down at your hands that are wringing the sleeves. “I don’t know.” Ugh, don’t sound so pathetic! “It has always just been me, trying to figure out these things on my own, your highness.”

“Hm.” Frigga’s palms are soft when she plies your fingers from the stretched hem. “I see why he brought you here, then.”

“Who?” With all that has happened, you should be used to fear clawing inside your chest like now.

Rather than answer you, the queen merely announces the room at large, “Leave us. All of you.” The last bit is addressed to the guard that you only now notice has stayed by the door. “And see to it that the chambers have been prepared.”

They must know the drill, these fancy women, because no one complains or looks surprised as they file out. Even if you had felt out of place with all of them around, the sense of foreboding and displacement doesn’t lessen, and you try to avoid meeting the piercing gaze of the queen in the hopes of keeping up the charade – a near impossible endeavour as she studies you in silence until the door clicks shut.

“Let us abandon pretense, me dear,” Frigga sighs before urgency takes over. “How is my son? How is Loki?”

Fuck. She can’t...can she? Like mother like son? Oh, crap. “I don’t know wha-”

“Tish-tosh. It is hard for me – and Heimdal – to track him. My boy has always been intelligent and...well, sneaky. But a mother knows her child, and when we learned someone with such a gift had been abducted from Midgard? Well, I had my suspicions as to his plans.” It’s impossible to tell if the proud smirk is due to her own success in figuring out what was going on or Loki’s accomplishments. “He learned nigh everything he knows from me, and despite the turmoil in his heart there is reason behind his madness.”

“Don’t call him mad!” It pops out of your mouth before you can think and your heart almost follows, getting stuck in the throat on the way and blocking any intake of air.

Frigga’s hands are warm, unlike the man in question’s. Tenderly, they cup your cheeks, rubbing circles on the skin until the rhythm echoes in your body and breathing becomes possible once more.

“Do not fret,” the queen and mother instructs. “I shall not ask where he is or if they two of you are colluding. All I wish is that he is...is...” Wetness wells in her eyes, briefly but long enough for you to recognize it. “He has been struggling and so I hope he has found a gentler path to tread on the way to redemption. Any proper mother would feel assured knowing that their son does not walk alone.”

This is his home. Sure, Asgard itself has been where Loki grew up, the place he still belongs to despite what he has said about Jotunheim and Odin’s rejection. But you begin to suspect that the real reason for the strong attachment is sitting right before you. So much of Frigga’s small mannerisms have been passed on to her adoptive son though her pride has been tempered by a wisdom your companion hasn’t gained yet.

“Worry not, dear,” the queen interrupts you thought, “all will fall into place in time and until then, I may be able to teach you more about your gift and how to hone it. You shall be my guest in Valhalla. Welcome to Asgard.”

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vintagevalentinex · 4 years

Text

Decode, VI

Here it is!! I hope you like it! As always, let me know! xoxo

Thank you to @immathrowabrickatyou and @rowdyhooliganism for letting me yell ideas at you. xx

Decode, VI by vintagevalentinexx Mycroft Holmes x Reader ~1440 words

What could this all mean? Who is ‘she’? I hope he doesn’t get to her…

You scrunched your face, averting your eyes from Mycroft’s, his face revealing absolutely nothing as you turned toward Lestrade.

“Just what is going on, Inspector?”

He sighed, closing his eyes, gathering his thoughts.

“It’s…well…a very delicate matter—“

“What the Inspector is trying to say is that they are currently trying to find a serial killer that continues to send them photographs of women that they have murdered. In all of the photographs all of the women have their eyeballs removed. Accompanying these photographs are the coded messages that seemingly only you can solve.”

Sherlock turned to you, stepping closer, nearly getting into your personal space.

“Tell me, Professor, is there anything that you aren’t telling us?”

Before you could even speak, Mycroft was already doing so.

“You cannot be serious, Sherlock. When would she even have the time to complete all of those murders? They would have had to happen at the very least before the first envelope was sent, and (Y/N) has been here for hardly the weekend…”

“How steadfastly you defend her, Mycroft…”

Mycroft rolled his eyes, as you stared around the room, feeling everyone else stare back at you. They didn’t believe him right? You were certainly not a killer. You were relieved to see Lestrade making a sour face at Sherlock.

“Come off it, Sherlock. She’s nowhere even close to the profile you were telling us about.”

Sherlock smirked at you.

“Of course, how forgetful of me.”

You shook your head, the muscles in your jaw tensing.

“Well…I’ve certainly had enough asinine behavior for one evening. Inspector if anything new shows up, please let me know.”

You turned to leave, brushing past Sherlock. As you walked down the hallway you heard steps behind you.

“Might I give you a ride back to your hotel, (Y/N)? It is quite late…”

Nodding, you slow down, waiting for Mycroft to join you. “Does he really think I’m the killer, Mycroft?”

“Of course he doesn’t. He was being idiotic, trying to get a rise out of you. It’s how he amuses himself.”

It had been such a long day. You had no idea what time it was, but all you knew was that you need a full night’s sleep. You nodded wearily at Mycroft who led you back to his towncar.

“You know this isn’t all necessary. I’m pretty sure I can find my room by myself.”

He waved his hand. “(Y/N) it would be absolutely bad form if I didn’t make sure you got back here safely. And we can’t have anything happening to the clever language expert.”

You gave him a half smile, your hand on the knob. “Despite the aggravation of your brother, it was, dare I say, enjoyable being in your company tonight, Mycroft.”

His eyebrows raised, the slightest hint of mirth forming behind his eyes.

“I hope you sleep well, (Y/N). I shall be in touch.”

You were always marveled at how much a full night’s sleep could do for you. Despite all of the insanity of yesterday, you felt refreshed, more well-rested than you had in ages. You couldn’t remember the last time you had such a good night’s sleep. You were seriously starting to consider looking up the brand of the mattress. You lounged around in bed for a little while longer before deciding to check your phone. I mean, I’m on a ‘leave of absence’ anyway. I might as well enjoy it.

[No New Messages.]

You breathed a sigh of relief. It was the most beautiful thing you had seen in days. It usually didn’t bother you when people left messages on your phone, but the last thirty-six hours had been way too tiring. You were hoping to do some sight-seeing today while you awaited a text from Mycroft with details for dinner. Dinner with Mycroft. Was this a date now? Going to dinner with someone of the opposite sex was usually considered a typical date. Ugh. This is why you didn’t do all of this. It was too easy to misinterpret everything.

You jumped as you heard loud, short knocking at your door. Finding a plush, fluffy white robe in the bathroom, you slip it on, making your way to the door. As you look through the peephole you see a man, smartly dressed in a simple black suit. You spoke through the door, knowing that you couldn’t be too careful.

“Can I help you?”

“Good morning, Ma’am. I’ve been asked by Mr. Holmes to drive you where you’d wish for the day. I shall await you outside. Please do take your time.”

You bit your lip, watching him leave. You were about to text Mycroft when your phone came to life.

[1 New Text Message.]

[8:33 am] I do hope the car has arrived by now. Feel free to go wherever you wish. Consider this recompense for all the trouble you’ve been put through. –M

Well at least you knew that some random stranger wasn’t going to kidnap you. Pursing your lips, you quickly typed out a reply.

[8:37] That is very kind. Please let me know where to meet you later!

Quickly throwing your clothes on and making yourself up for the day, you make your way to the lobby, spying the man from earlier leaning on the car outside, waiting for you.

It had been such a wonderful morning and early afternoon. You were able to go see all the sights and be touristy, something that you were never granted the chance to do when you went on business trips. As you were walking around you wondered what you were going to wear tonight. You didn’t really have much as far as clothes went; you were only expecting to stay the weekend. Signaling to the driver, you have him take you to a small boutique you were eying previously in the day.

You browsed casually through the racks, taking your time until your hands lingered over an elegant looking navy cocktail dress. You held the dress up in front of you, smiling a bit as you made your way to the fitting room. The dress hit just above the knee and fit you in all the right places. You stepped out of the room to look in the tri-fold mirror to get a better look. One of the saleswomen fluttered around you, nearly gushing on how marvelous it looked on you and how you must absolutely buy it. You decided on the purchase, becoming flustered when the saleswoman insisted you wear it out. She must be working on commission. Damn. You smiled kindly to the driver that was waiting for you as you left the store, thanking him softly when he took your shopping bag to put into the trunk. He hurriedly walked back to your side, opening the door for you. As you shimmied into the back of the car you gasped, Mycroft sitting in the back seat.

“I assumed this would be much easier than explaining where to meet.”

You held your hand to your chest, feeling your heart beat finally slow down.

“You scared the living hell out of me! I wasn’t expecting to find someone in the back of the car.”

You could hear the amusement in his voice. “My apologies, (Y/N).”

Giving him a withering look, your eyebrows immediately shot up, lips slightly parted, recognition washing over you.

“You wouldn’t happen to know why the saleswoman was so insistent on me wearing this out of the store, would you?”

His facial features revealed nothing, but the jollity remained in his eyes, his voice not even betraying him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. To blame such an absurd idea on me is simply not becoming, (Y/N).”

You laughed openly, shaking your head as he let the driver know where to go, allowing yourself to be comfortable on the lush leather seats.

“Admittedly I’m quite pleased that you agreed to see me again…”

You shifted yourself, meeting his gaze, seemingly always assessing the situation at hand.

“You’ve proven to be much better company than I first ascertained, Mycroft. I certainly hope you don’t disappoint.”

He nearly smiled, more facial expression you’d seen from him…well…ever. It was almost predatory, challenging, and it was in that moment that you realized that this was probably a smile that he’d given to other people before, probably when he was being challenged. You wondered how many people had fallen to their demise after he had smiled at them like that.

“I never do.”

Oh my.

Next Part!

#sherlock #mycroft #mycroft holmes #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft holmes/reader #slow burn #reader insert #mycroft is bae

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