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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 3 years

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Monstrous Secrets Chapter 8

Eris Vanserra x reader

Word Count: 1720

Summary: You and a couple of the guys have a heart-to-heart

You were home, or rather, you were in the physical place where you lived. It was difficult to call Velaris ‘home’ when your home was really a person, your mate. It was even harder to call this place home since Azriel started looking at you like he wanted to spit on you at any given moment. You’d expected to be treated that way once everything came to light, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t loathe it with every fiber of your being.

It was in a fit of this general discontent that you found yourself sitting on the ground of the balcony outside the House of Wind’s library. A bottle of wine, half empty already based on the weight of it, dangled from your fingertips as you stared blankly into the fire and longed for the male that could make such flames dance like sprites. Eris’s notes from your time apart rested on the ground before you, some resting against or on your leg because you’d simply dropped them after reading.

“Cass told me I’d find you here,” Rhys said as his feet entered your field of view. “Though I’ll admit I thought he was exaggerating how much you’d been drinking.”

Your eyes darted over to the other two, empty bottles you’d abandoned back when you’d been sitting in a chair. “Yes, well, you know how my tolerance is.”

“Considering how many men you’ve drunk under the table? Yes, I’m fully aware.” Now, he brought himself low enough that he could meet your eye on your own level. The most powerful High Lord, kneeling beside his low fae cousin on the ground.

You snorted at the sheer ridiculousness. “Whatcha doing here, Rhys? I figured you’d be off with Feyre.”

“She had things to discuss with Amren or else she’d be here talking to you with me.”

You took another drink. “Well in that case, lay it on me.” Your arms spread wide dramatically, one hand holding the bottle, the other a letter; your wings flared slightly behind you in an effort to keep you balanced. “Ask me anything you want! I assume it’s about that gorgeous mate of mine.”

He rolled his eyes and took the bottle from you. “I won’t insult you bya skiing what Azriel wants me to.” Rhysand took a long drink.

“Oooooh, let me guess!” You did your best to make your face as stoic as the shadowsinger’s. “Have I been selling secrets to the Autumn Court?”

“Close,” he snickered. “Has she been giving away secrets to the Autumn Court?”

You scoffed. “As if I’d give them away for free!”

“Sweetheart, you’d never spill them either way.” His eyes were somber, caring. “You would never betray us like that, so I have no need to ask.”

“Then what do you need to ask?”

“First, I want to ask about your bargain.”

“You makin’ sure I didn’t give away anything important?”

“I want to know that it was your choice to make whatever deal it was.”

Your brain stalled out in light of his genuine concern after so many days of people being wary of you, and your buzz fizzled a little because of it. “It was a deal of protection,” you explained seriously. “He’ll watch my back as long as I watch his sort of thing.” You stole back the bottle to take another drink. “And what a fucking job I did.”

“You couldn’t have done anything against her,” he assured you, “and if you had tried, more likely than not, you’d both be dead right now.”

“Whatever, Rhys,” you scoffed. “What else?”

“You are not less than him because you’re Illyrian.” You’d known the topic was coming, but you didn’t expect him to be quite so blunt. “And if he treats you like you are, I’ll kill him myself.”

“Then you can stop worrying, because he doesn’t. Hasn’t even said anything to imply it--get that look off your face right now. Anything he said to you was an act because we were backed into a nightmare of a corner, and you know it. Anyway, he hasn't made any jabs implying it--accidentally or otherwise--since we first got together.”

“Put a stop to that, did you?” He was smirking as he swiped the bottle back to drink once again.

“Of course.” You hesitated. “But he and I are both aware of what others will think; just look at your parents. That’s why, or at least part of why, we kept quiet about the whole thing.”

Rhysand was nodding as if pleased.

“That all you’ve got, cousin?”

A little snort escaped his nose. “As far as being concerned goes, we’ll say yes for now.”

“And as far as everything else?”

“Since you’ve so cruelly left your poor cousin in the dark about your relationship for--how long was it again?”

“‘Bout five hundred years--”

“Five hundred years! Because you've left me in the dark for so long, I want to know everything about the two of you.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.” He waved a hand a little. “That you’re willing to share, of course.”

“Rhys . . . I don’t . . .” You weren’t used to this. You’d never had to share anything about your relationship before. You weren’t good at talking about yourself. “I don’t know where to start.”

A low hum rumbled through the air along with the telling thuds of someone else’s boots.

“Why don’t you start with that letter you’re holding?” Cassian abruptly dropped down next to you, so close he was lightly pressed against your side. It was such a casual closeness that the pair of you had had for centuries, and you didn't realize how much you loved it until it was missing. Its presence now brought tears to your eyes, but none fell.

Blinking them back, you stammered, “Um. It’s how we talked . . . when we couldn’t see each other.” A self-deprecating chuckle ripped its way up from your throat. “Apparently he’d been sending them since just after Amarantha, and I never knew since I don’t live down there anymore. I’m only just now getting around to reading them.” Carelessly, you handed it over to Cassian. “You can read it if you want; I was going through them all, but I can’t exactly see straight enough to read anymore.”

He eyed you warily before opening it gently. Clearing his throat before he read,

“I hope you are doing well, and I hope moreso that you have not finally come to your senses and decided to leave me. I’ve been trying to keep my emotions from bothering you in case you have, but Father has proven to be harsher than ever before in light of everything that has happened over the last half-century. It’s all I can do to keep him from deciding to hunt down Lucien.

Cauldron, I don’t even know if you’re receiving these messages or if you even care and yet here I am droning on about my own problems. I’ll leave this here, then.

I miss you, and I love you always,

Eris”

Both men were silent for a breath.

“Who would have thought that Eris Vanserra of all people would be so rambling in a letter?” Cassian eventually teased--only slightly awkwardly--to break the quiet.

“He stopped trying to be eloquent in our notes about five years in.” Your buzz was definitely on the way out now, and you found yourself listlessly leaning against Cassian. Neither male commented about the more romantic sentiments in the letter. You wondered why that was. For your privacy or their own comfort so they didn’t have to think about the fact that Eris did in fact have feelings.

“What’s the first thing you think of when you think about him?” Rhysand prompted quietly, obviously wanting to know more about the relationship despite the awkward aura that’d descended upon the little group.

It may have been because you were actively looking at a fire, but you didn’t really have to think about the words that came tumbling out of your mouth. “Did you know that he can make shapes out of flames? He used to make little dogs and foxes to play with Lucien when Beron would upset him.”

“I thought he hated that kid,” Cassian mused.

“He had to keep his distance to keep Beron’s attention away from him; he swore to his mother that he’d protect him.”

“What else comes to mind?”

You swallowed thickly. “He interrogated me about how to care for my wings when I showed up injured once.”

Rhys’s violet eyes flashed. “Injured?”

“Took a bad crash through some trees on the way to see him; I think I was dodging some scouts. Either way, he hounded me about it until I taught him all I could.”

“Seriously?” Cassian again.

“Yeah.” You could feel the dopey smile spread across your face, but you didn’t want to stop it. “Cleaning, first-aid, the whole deal. And the best part? He never has cold hands.”

“Unlike you, huh?” Rhys teased. “Nothing but cold hands.”

“Truer words never spoken,” and unexpected but familiar voice said from behind you.

As soon as you laid eyes on him, you were stumbling to your feet.

There was a warmth in his eyes that had nothing to do with flames when he caught you and pulled you close.

Immediately, you buried your face in his neck. “How?” you whispered into the pale skin there.

Eris’s hand moved to rest atop your wing where it was tucked against your back, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. “That would be a question for your High Lady.”

You glanced over your shoulder and saw that, sure enough, Feyre was now holding hands with the now-standing Rhys. “I thought you were with Amren?”

“I lied,” Rhys shrugged. “Eris was down there plotting with Keir, so I asked her to go grab him for you since you’ve been feeling down.”

When tears started welling up in your eyes, you blamed the alcohol. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, little cousin. Now, I think it’s time for us to turn in.” His eyes shifted to look at your mate; surprisingly his gaze wasn’t near as icy as you would have expected. “Take care of her.”

“Until my dying breath.”

“Never a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ with you people,” Cassian scoffed, “is there?”

You smirked on behalf of your husband. “Never.”

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra imagine #eris imagine #eris x reader #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses imagine #reader insert

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your-turn-to-role · 3 years

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Hello there! i saw someone else doing this and i thought it was a fun and cool idea so: Headcanon Saturday (or sunday if its sunday for you): share a favorite headcanon (or lots of headcanons), big or small, if you feel like it! Your blog is very cool and I love seeing your thoughts whenever they pop up on my dash! keep doing what you do :D

it is in fact sunday for me! (or, it was when you sent this, it's wednesday now bc i had an assignment i had to do and uh, nz just went back into major lockdown so that’s fun)

but thank you so much!

and honestly this question had me stumped for a bit, because, in theory i have some, right? but, one, i'm less of a theory fan and more of a collector fan, i can put together minuscule details from all over the show to get a big picture of a character, but i rarely have headcanons that aren't based in some show evidence or other

and when i do have some, they either end up in a meta post im writing, or in a specific tag (like my cr nd headcanons i'll link a bit further down), or in a fic that i will write half of and never post bc i am chronically terrible at finishing things 😂

that said! i have scoured through fic ideas and discord server messages, so here have a few

fave headcanon that's not mine

disabled essek. like, thank you fandom for this one, it's incredibly dear to my heart, i consider it canon, nothing can convince me otherwise, it is going in all my fics, just.... comfort character

sometimes a character can be a neutral evil criminal and a disability icon okay

fave identity headcanon

see this tag for my various "why cr characters are neurodivergent" essays, also, fjord and jester are arospec thank you good day

a couple ones just based on dnd mechanics that i enjoy

- gilmore is a couple levels self taught in wizard

(he at the very least would have magic initiate if you were to build him like a pc bc he has identify, which is not a sorcerer spell, but... something about how he loves magic and was very determined to stand out but also something happened to him with the whole runechild thing that makes him scared to admit he is one so obviously he wouldn't flaunt that power, also the way he's kinda self deprecating whenever he has to admit he doesn't know wizard stuff, yeah, he definitely tried to teach himself magic the non sorcerer way)

- percy has a pristine organisation system for every room he owns and if you mess it up he can no longer find anything

this one is based off of two things. 1) percy is canonically a very neat and tidy person. after the feast with the briarwoods he goes home, wrecks his room trying to vent his feelings, and then barricades himself in his workshop. when vox machina find his room the next morning matt notes that percy's room is never messy like this. also, just in how he talks to grog when grog's snooping in his workshop, percy definitely knows the precise location of every tool in there. also he's just a precise person in general.

2) taliesin's weakness in rolling good for percy is investigation checks. he fails them almost every time. he has a decent int mod, but the dice just decided no investigation checks for you! (also, i haven't gone back to confirm this, so i may be wrong, but i'm pretty sure one of the few good investigation checks he makes is in whitestone castle). strict organisation system. he is absolutely useless without it 😂

aaaand, fave angsty headcanon (bc it's me, there was gonna be one)

the blumendrei didn't leave their hometown for days after they killed their parents. like. okay i've had a fic i've been lowkey writing for ages about these guys (yes i have like 40 cr fics in some form of wip status, no none are finished, this is how i exist), in the aftermath of that, bc i love them and i have a lot of thoughts about it

(also, not that i can prove it bc the fic was never posted but i kinda predicted the, cold stone tower overnight thing, which had me feeling A Way when that became canon!)

but anyway what this is based on is like... there's an idea in the fandom that trent directly ordered them to kill their parents but he really didn't. like obviously he put every step in place, but when caleb's telling that story, trent barely even comes up. he talks about how he found out his parents were traitors and how he "knew what he had to do"

so honestly, given everything we know about how trent engineers situations, it makes the most sense to me that the blumendrei, didn't want trent to know about this at all

like they believed the lie that their parents genuinely were traitors, so if you find out that horrifying secret, in the environment they'd been in for the past two years? that's shameful, horrifically so. why would they tell trent about that if they could avoid it? why risk getting branded the same, you've been told up to this point you're special, and you'd kill to keep that title. why on earth would you admit that your bloodline is tainted like that?

no, they would have tried to cover it up, as long as they could. which, is exactly what trent would want bc that again puts them on the back foot, but like... yeah, i fully believe they waited it out for a couple of days before going to trent until they were sure they couldn't wait any longer for bren to get better without drawing even more suspicion. and, since their cover story is they were supposed to be visiting their parents anyway, maybe they didn't go all that far

#this really goes all over the place #but yeah hope that's something!#inside you there are two wolves: one wants to answer this with as many headcanons as possible #the other wants to keep one topic per post so as not to emotionally confuse #anyway thanks for the ask!#it means a lot that you guys like my thoughts on stuff #cr2 #cr1 #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #astrid beck #eodwulf grieve #shaun gilmore #percy de rolo #cr thoughts #ask #text #meta

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justseveralowls · 4 years

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Self-talk: The voice only you can hear

The way we think about or speak to ourselves it’s a key aspect in self exploration and the process of recovery. After all, we are around ourselves twenty four hours a day and three hundred and sixty five days a year. So, with this logic it makes sense that we can be our own worst enemies, but at the same time having a healthy relationship with how you view and discuss yourself can be one of the most powerful tools in anyone’s recovery journey. Self esteem for many in the mental health community, our system included is a huge and exhausting battle, But I am hoping that with this post getting a handle on at least one aspect will be at least a little less daunting. So now it’s self-love o’clock and if you want read along and we’ll figure some stuff out.

How do we talk to ourselves?

Internal monologue

Pay attention to your internal reactions to things like your mistakes, victories, and interactions with other people. Sometime this is obvious other times its more of subconscious things more like a general feeling of guilt shame or lack of self worth.

Examine these thoughts from a third party perspective. I find that these questions can be extremely helpful in this sort of examination.

What is the message in this thought? (What’s it saying)

Would this be something I would say outloud?

Is this something I would say to a stranger? How about a friend? Or even a pet or young child?

2. Taking a closer. Look at the true nature and severity of how you speak to yourself as opposed to how you interact with other is a crucial albeit painful step in shifting your views on yourself.

3. Reflect on what you have noticed I or observed

For example, if you noticed the messages were negative, meant envoke feelings of shame, or something you wouldn’t say to someone else. Think about why you came to those conclusions and what you might say instead, or even stop saying anything about it all.

How do we talk about ourselves?

1. Receiving compliments- pay attention to the way you respond to compliments.

Do you minimize your accomplishments?

Do you make self deprecating remarks in response?

Do genuine compliments make you uncomfortable?

Can you compliment yourself in a genuine way?

2. Humor

Do you make jokes that minimize your talent, worth, value or skills?

Would this be okay to say to someone else?

Why do you say this about yourself? What does it accomplish?

The effects of negative self-talk

In the moment

Minimizes you or what you are describing/ referring to?

Provides negative reinforcement, often without reason.

Implies that it is alright to talk to yourself or others that way.

Starts a pattern or habit (Difficult to stop, trust me)

Overall

Lowers your self esteem and confidence in yourself or in your abilities.

Makes you appear as if you are less competent or worthy (that is not true)

Can make advocating for yourself and setting boundaries much harder, as at some level you can convince yourself the self deprivation and negative thoughts are the truth or you somehow deserve to be treated or spoken to in that way.

How to work on this:

My first reaction when I learned this was something along the line of “well great yet another thing I have to work on”. But after sometime and working towards this goal for a while it really does make a very big difference in your self esteem, ability to make boundaries, and advocate for yourself. As annoying as these things may sound they are worth it, and these techniques overtime really do make a difference.

The ‘Five nice things” technique

This is one that I have my partner help my with and works best when you can have someone prompt or gently remind you to stay on top of this challenge.

Basically the general idea behind this is everytime you say something negative, mean or self deprecating about yourself, you outloud list five nice things about yourself.

Example

Uh I’m the worst parrot groomer ever

I am kind

I am funny

I am good at my job

I am worthy of appreciation

I am strong

The “gentle voice” technique

This is a more self coached way of approaching negative self talk. Effectively you speak to yourself, often out loud at first, they way you would a pet or youn child. (I know this sounds strange, but hopefully the example will help)

Example

Let’s say you forget to do something for your friend and have feelings of guilt and want to say something unkind to yourself Instead of a mean comment approach it as if you are speaking to someone you care about

Instead of “Oh I’m such a fish stick” try “Whoops, I made a mistake, but thats okay, I can bring Steven the muffins later on”

Effectively turn the statement from a harsh judgement on yourself to a more gentle and understanding response, that is encouraging and solution oriented rather than heart full and encouraging of shame.

Basic tips to improve self esteem and the way we talk to or about yourselves:

Try to eliminate self deprecating humor from your vocabulary, instead of these joke you can say something absurd in a none harmful way (Not “I’m so clumsy” but instead “That rug has wronged me”)

Try using gratitude statements instead of constant apologies (Thank you for listening to me, Thank you for waiting etc)

Accept compliments with gratitude instead of silence, minimization or deflection

Compliment yourself/Acknowledge when you have done well

Verbally forgive yourself for mistakes. (“I forgot about the bake sale but thats okay, people make mistakes. I am allowed to make mistakes.)

Surround yourself with positivity whether that be changing up social media, people around you, media consumed and the way you talk to and about yourself (I like putting post its everywhere with happy stuff, having something happy as my lock screen, changing music, and apps like motivate (sends inspirational quotes))

Be patient with yourself, this change wont happen overnight, and thats okay

AFFIRMATIONS ARE FREAKING GREAT (I literally say this every post but still, say it into being lovely humans)

I hope this helps on someone’s journey and that this post finds you all safe, and healing. YOu are strong, you are brave, I am proud of you and as always you are not alone.

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catboymingi · 4 years

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mirror, mirror on the wall - veninder chap. 8

navi/masterlist

story masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: slight angst, fluff; soon best friends to lovers

word count: 6.2k

warnings: language

det har været et problem / siden vi blev alene / [...] / det er kærlighed, det kan være svært - it’s been a problem / since we were alone / it’s love, it can be complicated

mingi had no right to be as cute as he was, still running his fingers through your hair as you were about to start another movie, something that was only interrupted by a message to the group chat.

[san]: he either managed to fix things or y/n broke all his bones

[san]: no matter what it is i support you @y/n

you looked at the redhead with an expression you didn’t even know how to interpret yourself, because you didn’t know what exactly was going on in your head; looking at him had been more of an instinct than anything, but apparently it looked questioning or curious, because he started explaining.

“they almost beat some sense into me. i just really didn’t realise that you didn’t hate me until san was about to kill me, so that’s probably why they suspect you might’ve done the same. not that i wouldn’t deserve it.”

and even though the tiny mean part of you agreed that he did deserve it - maybe not to have his bones broken, but some kind of angry outburst - the much bigger part was able to tell that he was clearly still feeling horrible about it and knew that he hadn't meant to hurt you, and that part shut his self deprecation down right when it started.

"you don't. don't say that. you don't deserve to be hurt at all." your hands had gone back to rest on top of his which were still crossed in front of your body, giving them a small squeeze to show that you weren't angry and didn't harbour any thoughts of hurting him in the slightest.

"thank you."

his forehead was resting on your shoulder and you knew he wasn't just thanking you for saying that he did not, in fact, deserve an ass beating, but also for having accepted his apology so readily. as if there'd ever been any doubt about that, but apparently to him there had.

"what do you want to watch now?", you tried to change the topic, because while you weren't angry or upset with him you didn't exactly want to be reminded of being ignored for so long and also the reason why that had even happened in the first place. you wanted to forget that in this moment, just wanted to enjoy his presence and his warmth and that he was there.

"i don't know. do you have a recommendation?"

you thought some, and you did have one, but you weren't sure if you should suggest it. you'd watched random romcoms with him before, but that had been less a matter of recommending and more a matter of just accepting what netflix suggested. you felt a little awkward recommending a romcom, especially now that you were… in a weird emotional situation. or maybe it wasn't weird, but it wasn't one hundred percent clear where exactly you were, either - you were best friends with feelings for each other and an inability to act on them before you could be certain it wouldn't ruin things. were romcoms appropriate in that context?

"you're overthinking." of course he noticed, and you nodded.

"it's silly, but i feel like it's a little different now that there's… like, not even unspoken feelings, but feelings, in the air. i don't want to, i don't know, lead you on? even though it's not like i wouldn't technically want to lead you on, it's just… i don't know how to say it."

he hummed in reply, because while he didn’t worry about anything of the sorts he could understand why you did.

“just try not to worry. what do you want to watch?”

you didn’t want to overthink anymore, didn’t want things to be awkward, so you told him, even though part of you still felt a little odd. it was the first time you were even remotely close to a relationship, so you didn’t exactly know how to act, but you tried to do as mingi said and not worry too much.

“to all the boys i’ve loved before. i’ve watched it like seven times already, and there’s a sequel, too.”

but you still didn’t move to put it on, so he leaned forward, squishing you in a little between his chest and your legs, and put the movie on.

“it’s this one, right? everything is in finnish”, the last part almost a whine because it was near impossible for him to navigate your netflix.

“mhm”, so he put it on, leaning back again and pulling you with him because he wanted to be close to you and he wanted to hold you. then you stayed like this, watching the movie, in comfortable silence except when one of you let out displeased sounds at the main characters’ inability to figure out their feelings or their dumbass behaviour. you watched the sequel, too, and then more movies that were on your watchlist because mingi honestly didn’t care much about what you were watching as long as he got to hold you, first interrupting your spontaneous movie marathon to eat a little. that was the first time he actually had to let go of you that day, and he didn’t like it, but you had to eat so he accepted his fate.

it was getting somewhat dark about one third through the next movie, something that made you feel very cosy and somewhat sleepy, the screen of your laptop being the only thing that was illuminating your room. it wasn’t late enough to sleep yet, and you weren’t tired enough to sleep yet, but you were aware of the fact that you’d be incredibly tired quite soon, and you wanted to ask mingi if he wanted to stay the night, not if he was still awake enough to go home.

“mingi?” you were surprised that you already did sound somewhat tired - it was probably just because you were so comfortable, and also because crying all week had exhausted you.

“hm?” his voice came from above you, his chin resting on your head as it had for most of the movies.

“where do you want to sleep tonight? we have uni tomorrow.”

“can i stay here?” his voice made it clear that he half expected you to say no, but you wouldn’t.

“if you want to? that’s why i asked.”

“i’ll text the boys to bring my bag. or we could go fetch it together?”

you thought for a moment, then made a decision.

“can we stay at your place? i kind of want to go over when i’m not crying. and your bed is bigger.”

not that you’d need a lot of space - whenever you shared the bed you were wrapped so tightly around each other that you might as well be a single person -, but he agreed. the boys would probably be glad to see that you were doing better, and it might spare him an ass kicking if he brought you over without having broken your heart.

“which movie is this? we can finish it there.”

you texted him the name, then replied to the boys, whose previous messages you had ignored and who were making bets on whether or not mingi was still intact.

[y/n]: were coming over soon and i want ice cream

where the ice cream idea came from, you didn’t know. you just knew that you wanted ice cream now. it was a spontaneous craving, but one that the boys seemed to be willing to fulfil.

[yunho]: which flavour?

[san]: and do we need to plan for mingi too or did you knock out his teeth?

[y/n]: wouldnt he need even more ice cream if id knocked out his teeth tho?

[y/n]: but hes fine

[y/n]: and surprise me

“i don’t think san’s going to let me live this down anytime soon”, the redhead almost whined, and even though you hadn’t even done anything you felt like you should apologise.

“sorry he’s so angry at you.”

“don’t apologise. he just really cares about you, i can’t blame him”, then, to distract you before you’d start overthinking again, “let’s go.”

you shut down your laptop and grabbed your university bag along with your wallet, keys and phone charger, and then you left to the boys’ place, almost falling asleep on the train ride, but if you had your best friend would’ve carried you without hesitation. since you managed to stay awake he opted for carrying your bag instead, holding your hand all the way just so he could be sure you’d stay there with him. sure, the risk of you randomly running away was small, but never zero, and he wasn’t about to risk anything. and he just really enjoyed holding your hand, now having full permission to simp because you were apparently simping as well, though he wouldn’t call it that for you. you were cute, he was embarrassing, or so he felt.

“my favourite!”, san greeted you as soon as you entered, forcibly removing you from mingi because he decided it was necessary to hug you tightly even though he’d last seen you this morning. your linked hands hadn’t gone unnoticed, though, so his next words were him asking you if that meant he had to sleep by himself again.

“i’m sorry, sannie”, and you genuinely seemed to be, because he had been there for you all week and you felt a little bad for “ditching” him like this, even though he’d never blame you or be actually upset. he’d just threaten mingi to wait and see what would happen if he dared to break your heart again, because as much as he’d enjoyed having you there to cuddle he most definitely hadn’t enjoyed the fact that you’d been crying your eyes out on the daily.

“just give me half of your ice cream and i’ll forgive you”, and “deal” you said because it felt like a fair compromise.

“no bones have been broken?”, seonghwa, who had now entered the living room/hallway area as well, asked, and the tall idiot shook his limbs (and managed to kick your lower leg in the process) to show that he was still entirely intact.

“yet”, san warned, glaring at his friend because he’d noticed you flinch when he’d accidentally kicked you.

“don’t hurt him, he needs to dye my hair on tuesday”, you tried to convince the black-haired boy to leave your best friend alone, and that worked as a distraction, because now he was excitedly asking about which colour you’d chosen.

“technically, i chose”, mingi felt the need to make known, because while he wasn’t going to reveal the embarrassing almost-kiss and the following rejection he did want to somehow let the others know that he was still special, still your best friend. like a kindergartener arguing about who was cooler.

“which colour did mingi choose, then”, san repeated his question with the slight alteration, rolling his eyes but smiling because things seemed to be okay again.

“red”, you informed him and the other boys that were now all gathered in the living room and about as curious as san about your soon-to-be makeover.

“is that why your hair looks like this right now? preparation for a whole new look?” yunho hadn’t asked with any malice, but you’d honestly forgotten the mess your hair was whenever you brushed it, especially if you went outside after having brushed it, any humidity higher than 2% leaving you looking like your hair had exploded.

“that’s just what it’s like when i brush it”, exasperated because you were scared they’d think it looked bad - your parents, who had the straightest hair you’d ever seen (which had frequently left you wondering if you maybe were adopted), had always thought it looked bad and told you to straighten it to fit in better, even though there was absolutely no use to straightening it because if you didn’t empty an entire can of hairspray on your head the humidity would make it explode again in no time.

“if you do this in red that’s going to look really cool”, jongho told you, and you were strangely relieved. your hair was quite a source of insecurity, so you were glad they didn’t hate it.

“where’s the ice cream?”

your cravings were still going strong, you wanted ice cream now, and you also wanted to change topic from your hair to something with less focus on you.

“we got several flavours, so you can pick and the rest has to accept whatever you leave for them”, and because yunho had been the one to get the ice cream the boys didn’t even have the right to protest when he explained the rules of ice cream division.

“san, do you like banana?”

the boy in question nodded, so your choice was made. mingi fought for the right to be the next to choose and picked the second tub of banana flavour, and the rest managed to solve it a little more democratically. san was considered the least democratic, however, seeing how he not only had his own but also a third of yours (he’d been joking when he said he wanted half of yours, but you wouldn’t leave him alone until he’d accepted a third of it, at least), and mingi turned out to be more democratic than expected, having fought for the second tub of banana so he could share with you and avoid you getting less ice cream than the rest when you’d been the one to ask for ice cream in the first place.

once the ice cream was devoured everyone moved to do their thing, which, in the case of mingi and you, was finishing the movie you’d started at your place. rewatching, rather, because you couldn’t be bothered to look for where you’d left off. after that you decided to sleep, having to borrow clothes from your best friend again because you’d forgotten to bring a pyjama. he was glad about it, secretly, though he’d never admit it, because he thought you looked cute drowning in his clothes, it made him feel soft.

“goodnight, teddy bear”, laying half on top of him because you’d missed sleeping in his arms and because he was warm and comfortable.

“goodnight, y/n.” and though it wasn’t quite how it should be yet, though you weren’t his, he was happy.

having to leave you alone for class was the worst thing life could possibly demand from him, but life didn’t care. he (and the other boys, but that didn’t matter much to him) got to spend lunch with you, though, and you still hung out after university, even though you didn’t need to teach him anymore. monday was over fast, tuesday was almost there, and he was hardly able to fall asleep even though you were again half on top of him because he was so excited to get to dye your hair.

“you’ll look so cool tomorrow”, he informed you when you wanted nothing more than to sleep, but you couldn’t even be mad at him keeping you up because he seemed so excited. more excited than you, even.

“only if you do a good job”, you teased, head on his chest and able to hear his heart race.

“i definitely will.”

“what do i get if you don’t?”

it was just jokes, but he took his chance to make some sort of advance, because while he did want to show you that he genuinely did like you a lot he was still nervous about actually acting on it. what if you’d think he was stupid?

“a cinema date, and i get you all the snacks you want.”

“will you sleep if i say okay?”

you were trying to hide the giddy feeling in your chest by teasing him like this, but you were also starting to get incredibly tired - the clock had already crossed the line between monday and tuesday, and you just wanted to sleep. class wasn’t all too early the next day, but both you and mingi would have to get up early since you were planning to buy the hair dyeing essentials before university, so you needed the sleep.

“fine.” he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep right away, but he could try, at least. and stop moving so incredibly much.

“okay. now sleep, you need to do a good job tomorrow.”

“goodnight”, pressing you tight to his chest because he’d just scored a second date with you.

“can you please just turn off your alarms, just one single day?”, the redhead whined out the next morning when it was 5am again and he was forcefully removed from the land of sleep by the tone he’d come to hate because it did this every single morning he woke up with you, and you just plain refused to turn your alarm off by this point.

“maybe if you ask really nicely. good morning.”

then you crawled out from his embrace to turn off the alarm for now, looking at him with a smile on your face. he was still so tired - he’d gotten maybe four hours of sleep because of your inability to get up at a normal time -, and he looked adorable, rubbing his eyes for like ten seconds just to force himself to be a little more awake.

“good morning”, he replied, even though he was still somewhat grumpy at your alarm. he just couldn’t not say it.

“today’s the big day”, the day where you’d finally go back to looking more like you, and also the day where you’d match with the sleepy idiot in your bed. though he seemed significantly less sleepy as he realised that he’d be dyeing your hair today, sitting up so fast you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d lost balance and fallen off the bed.

it seemed to be pure torture to have to wait for a more appropriate time to leave the flat, seeing how he was constantly checking his phone for the time, but it only left him all the happier when it was finally time to leave. he’d gotten dressed hours ago, in an attempt to get time to pass faster because maybe it would if the time gods saw that he was ready to leave - which it, much to his dismay, hadn’t at all, but it didn’t matter anymore now that he finally got to leave.

the store was near university and he bought everything for you, not wanting to let you pay because it felt like it was a treat for him that you were letting him dye your hair so he didn’t want you to spend money on it, even though you were just as excited. then you went to class, and you were relieved he was there with you when one of the girls approached you when you were about to sit down.

“oh, you went back to the old boytoy? didn’t like the one we picked?” her voice was sickly sweet, and if you hadn’t been clinging to mingi’s hand the way you were he probably would have done something he’d regret later.

“this boytoy is more than ready to do things you really wouldn’t want me to do if you try shit like that again”, steam coming out of his ears if that were anatomically possible, “so i suggest you fuck off.”

you were glad he was towering in front of you, protecting you with his body from someone that was supposed to be your friend, because while the girls hadn’t left you alone since the party reminders of it still hurt. and they’d especially hurt last week, when the redhead hadn’t been there with you, something that hadn’t gone unnoticed and given them a reason for even more teasing. you just wanted to forget all about it and you didn’t want to see the smug expression that would without a doubt be on her face.

“you’re no fun”, but she did leave and you visibly relaxed, the grip on the red-haired giant’s hand loosening.

the class went okay with him there, lunch with the boys was fun (they were teasing a certain redhead about how he seemed to be attached by the hip to you), and the last class of the day went by without any major happenings, either, and then, then it was finally time to go home and dye your hair, something mingi’d been waiting for ever since you told him he could do it. the train ride felt way longer than it usually was, and he decided to pick you up and run with you because he didn’t want to be so slow, a plan that was quickly discarded because running with you on his back did prove to be slightly more difficult than anticipated. he still urged you to hurry, though, and because you were physically unable to not do what he asked you to when he was excited like this you ran the last hundred metres to your dorm’s building, laughing loudly when you were at the door.

once inside he immediately beelined for the bathroom, wanting to start right away, but you told him you’d have to brush your hair first if you wanted a decent dye job.

“can i do it again?” and of course he could, because he was, admittedly, better at doing so without hurting you than you were yourself.

his movements were careful and he once more managed to get rid of all the knots without any major pain, running his fingers through your hair to make sure he hadn’t missed anything before going over to his bag and getting out something that looked suspiciously much like one of his t-shirts.

“i always wear this when i dye my hair, and since it’s already dirty i thought i’d bring it along”, he explained himself, throwing the shirt towards you so you could put it on.

“let me in when you’re dressed.”

your best friend put on the plastic gloves in the meantime - he’d had to buy new ones because your hands were definitely much smaller than his, and so were your plastic gloves -, waiting for his cue to start the dyeing ministrations on your hair. he most likely had a worse case of nerves than you did, because you knew how to treat your hair and he had no idea and he was scared that he’d mess up big time and you’d violently kill him for ruining your hair.

“get to work, teddy bear”, you told him when you opened the bathroom door, and you didn’t need to tell him twice. he prepared the bleach (with some help from you because if the bleach wasn’t just the right texture your hair simply would not accept it and dyeing wouldn’t work), then he carefully spread it on your hair, starting with the tips and working up so your scalp would get a break and you’d be spared the bleach sting for as long as possible. he was careful and you really enjoyed the feeling of his hands in your hair, the attention he was paying to his job, making sure he didn’t miss a spot.

you looked absolutely silly with the blueish paste in your hair, but that was half the fun of dyeing hair, looking like a complete mess until the job was done. because of the amount of hair and bleach you waited in the bathroom rather than doing something else until it was time to wash it out, mingi checking how light your hair was every now and then.

when both of you were pleased with the result he told you to lean over, carefully kneeling next to you, who was now on all fours with only your upper body leaning into the shower, and checking the water temperature before he went to wash out the bleach. his movements were slow and soft, making sure every last bit of bleach was gone before he handed you the towel that you’d used before whenever you dyed your hair black and which was, as a consequence, already covered in colourful little splotches of badly washed out dye and residue pigment that was coming out after showering. when he realised that you wouldn’t be able to grab it without either dripping onto the bathroom floor and all over yourself or landing face first on the shower floor he started drying your hair for you, too, attempting one of those towel turbans but not very successful at it.

“thank you”, you said once you’d sat up, smiling at him. he smiled back, then told you to dry your hair so he could see what you looked like blonde and finally put the red in.

“you’re so impatient”, but you were laughing because it was kind of cute, if you were being honest.

“yes, so hurry up.”

you had no choice but to comply, drying your hair as much as possible with the towel before asking him if he was ready for the big reveal.

“just show me”, the so far still lone redhead whined, and you finally did as he’d begged you to, showing him what you looked like blonde.

“so?”

he didn’t know what to say, because he thought you looked stunning, but he also didn’t want to embarrass himself by saying so when you weren’t even going to keep this hair colour. but maybe one day he’d have to go blond with you.

“if we weren’t going to match i’d tell you to keep this” was how he decided to let you know that he really liked it without seeming all too whipped. but maybe it was time to be whipped, because he did want to show you that the feelings you seemed to doubt were genuine, from his side. so, he added: “you look really beautiful with blonde hair.”

“let’s hope i look good with red, too.” he’d flattered you and you were a little flustered, so you tried to get his attention away from your looks and back to the task.

“you will.”

he first noticed that he hadn’t opened the dye when he was already wearing the plastic gloves, sending a sheepish grin your way and asking you to please open it for him. you did as asked, handing him the little tube so he could continue, and he once more carefully put the dye in, trying really hard to not miss a spot and spread it evenly. then you waited, again, until it was time to wash it out, which he did with the same amount of care as the first time.

once it was all washed out, however, he near caused you a heart attack.

“i think i messed up”, mingi informed you, and your head shot up in fear without caring about the fact that you’d be dripping all over the bathroom floor, because you half expected your hair to be falling out. you rushed over to the mirror, trying to see just how bad it was.

“what are you talking about? it looks great!” relieved that you would not have to rock a buzzcut again, because growing your hair out after the first had been a pain and you were so glad that it was as long as it was again, chest length and still going strong.

“no, i definitely messed up”, and now that you were able to look at him you saw the playful glint in his eyes, “so i owe you a cinema date.”

“you’re a fucking idiot”, heart still racing from the moment of panic he’d caused you, “if you scare me like that again you’re not going to get any date, ever.”

his expression quickly changed from playfully teasing to a very specific emoji, one with big, sparkling eyes, as he apologised.

“i’m sorry, please forgive me, please don’t do that”, something that only worked because you were so incredibly soft for him, especially when he looked like that.

“fine, i forgive you. but you can just ask for a date instead of near killing me.” how you managed to act like the butterflies in your stomach weren’t doing somersaults was beyond your comprehension, but you stayed cool, something you were happy about. relationships were weird and somewhat intimidating, as were feelings, and you didn’t want to make it even more intimidating and embarrassing by showing him just how excited you were about the idea of going out with him.

“let me try again, okay?” and before you had a chance to reply he continued: “will you let me take you out on a cinema date this week?”

“yes, but now we need to dry my hair before i ruin your shirt”, because the dye-water mixture that was dripping from your tips was leaving small stains already.

“it’s fine, that’s why i brought this one.”

but he still dried your hair for you, carefully, before looking at the finished makeover.

“do you like it?” you were nervous, fiddling with his shirt because what if he regretted his idea now? what if he thought you looked stupid?

“yes! you look cute, but also really cool, i don’t know, but it suits you so well.”

“i’m glad.” then, grabbed by the sudden desire to hug him, you wrapped your arms around him tightly.

“thank you for dyeing my hair.”

even though your hair was still moist and a little uncomfortable against his cheek he held you just as tight, happy that you seemed to like your new colour.

“do you want to go to my place? show the boys.”

you wanted to keep hugging him, but you’d have to stop that sooner or later anyway, so you might as well.

“okay. but you help me decide what to wear tomorrow.”

he followed you to your closet, and for the first time since he’d known you did he notice that it was divided, in a way, that you had two shelves for pants, shirts, skirts and so on. you pointed to one side of the closet - the shirt shelves were next to each other at the same height, as were the others -, telling him that this was where you kept the remnants of your alternative phase.

“can i take some clothes out? so i can get a better look.”

you nodded and soon half your closet was spread on the bed because he wanted to try putting together different outfit combinations.

“hold on, i have something i just remembered”, you interrupted him, walking over to your closet and fetching something from a drawer he hadn’t dared to open because he suspected he might be greeted by your underwear. you didn’t fetch underwear, though, instead throwing several pairs of fishnet tights at him, then a pair of what he assumed to be socks, and then, the biggest surprise, thigh garters.

“maybe this helps spice things up”, and it did, because you also owned a pair of red fishnets, something he chose as the base for the outfit. then, black high-waisted shorts with a distressed hem, an oversized black crop top (that crop tops could be oversized was new to him, but he imagined it would look cute), and of course, the socks that revealed themselves to be thigh highs and the spiked thigh garters that had almost cost him an eye when you’d thrown them at him carelessly.

“this?”

the redhead was curious to see what you’d think of his amateur alt attire - he had no idea if you’d like it, but at least he knew you weren’t opposed to the clothes as individual items because they were quite literally yours.

“i think you have a secret alt girl hidden somewhere deep inside you, and she broke free when she saw my clothes”, you joked, though obviously approving of what he’d picked out.

“just don’t like her more than me”, joining in on the joking, pouting at you before a grin spread on his face because he wasn’t able to hold it in anymore.

you collected the outfit he’d picked out, some makeup and your pyjamas, then you texted the boys that mingi was coming with a surprise.

you hadn’t bothered to change out of the hair dye shirt, your hair was still slightly damp, and your friend had red splotches on his forearms from where the gloves hadn’t covered his skin. it was pretty obvious that he’d just dyed your hair, which the two of you thought was kind of fun; maybe it was just the excitement from your first somewhat-date, but both of you were full of energy still, even though the dyeing was done already.

when you were in front of their door mingi texted the boys, telling them to gather in the living room and keep their eyes closed - he’d check, he informed them -, and while you were kept outside until he’d checked you luckily didn’t have to wait for long because they’d done as asked.

“open!”

you were the surprise, sporting a bright red hair colour and your hair looking straighter than they’d ever seen it, even though it was slowly regaining its regular curliness and puffiness.

“you look like you’re way too cool for us”, yunho decided, and the others agreed.

“that’s because she is”, mingi let them know nonchalantly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you against him. he hadn’t considered how that would leave him unable to decently walk, though, starting to waddle towards his room while gently pushing you to move along with him.

“we’re going to watch a movie”, and off he went.

“what movie are we gonna watch?”

you were half sitting, half laying on his bed, watching him as he got out his laptop and joined you, motioning for you to make room for him so he wouldn’t fall off. his bed was big, sure, but you had to actually make use of that space, which you were very much not doing, leaving barely enough room for him if he were to lay on his side, which wasn’t the best movie predicaments. you readily scooted closer to the wall, though, sitting up more so you’d be able to watch him choose the movie.

“i don’t know, it feels like we’ve already watched so many.”

he was right; you’d watched about a dozen different movies by now, maybe more, so you were slowly running out of options.

“we could listen to music? just relax a little.”

“but we’re not going to listen to those songs you put on at the pyjama party”, he told you. “they weren’t exactly relaxing.”

“you can pick.”

he did, selecting some random relaxing lo-fi beats playlist on youtube. and because you were going to relax he put the laptop on the ground, laying down and making some grabby hands-adjacent movement at you so you’d come cuddle with him. and you did, wrapped yourself around him the way he’d been wrapped around you during your first movie night, an arm and a leg slung around him and your head not on his shoulder, not on his chest, but the space in between, and both of his arms were around you. he drew on your back, nothing in particular but just because you’d told him once that the movement relaxed you, switching which hand he used when the current arm started to feel heavy but not stopping even for a second. this situation made him happy, having you there and everything being calm; he wished it could last forever.

“are you tired?” mingi didn’t know why he’d asked - maybe because you weren’t moving at all, maybe because your breathing was slow and even, maybe because he was a little bit tired himself.

“mh, not really? just cosy. you’re like a big soft teddy bear.”

he felt so warm when you told him that, full of joy, full of soft feelings. you hadn’t talked about your feelings after that embarrassing and incredibly emotional situation at your place on sunday, but knowing that he did hold a special place in your heart, that you did like him the way he liked you, was enough to already make his heart grow to twice its regular, anatomically correct size.

his hands continued roaming your back, taking turns, sometimes trying to draw an actual shape, a heart, on your back, thinking you wouldn’t notice because you didn’t expect him to actually try to draw, but after several secret hearts you did notice that sometimes his movements seemed more coordinated, and then you noticed that he was drawing a heart, something that made you smile. he obviously wasn’t expecting you to realise what he was doing, so it was a genuine display of affection, not at all to convince you that he did like you but just because he wanted to.

even though both of you were convinced that you weren’t actually tired your eyes started feeling heavy about an hour into the playlist, despite the fact that it was barely past nine, and even though you maybe shouldn’t be sleeping in your street clothes you couldn’t be bothered to change, especially not when you realised that getting changed would mean waking up the gentle giant, whose movements had stopped and who was snoring just a little bit in your arms. you couldn’t possibly wake him up, and you couldn’t possibly bother him to turn off the laptop, so you just rubbed your cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt and closed your eyes, ready to doze off as well.

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crimsondomingo · 5 years

Text

Whumptober Day 24: Secret Injury

“It’s you.”

Barry looked up, startled that someone was talking to him. He came to this coffee shop because people tended to ignore him and all the baristas already… knew and would start his signature drink as soon as they saw him walk in.

He was also startled because this man was gorgeous.

“You don’t know me,” the man said, taking the empty seat across from Barry. He had the bluest eyes Barry had ever seen, close-cropped hair that looked prematurely silver, because this man was a fox, just so pretty and with incredibly expressive hands as he spoke. “I saw you perform once.”

Oh.

“It was at this club uptown. You said something about working on your first album, and then sang an incredible original song about running home to the one you love.”

Barry had always loved that one…

“I was transfixed. Truly. Your voice is amazing. I kept waiting to hear it on the radio. That was over a year ago now. Do you have any records out?”

Barry pursed his lips, brow drawing into a frown.

“I didn’t mean to touch a nerve if things stalled. With a voice like yours, I’m sure you’ll make it big someday. I’m Len, by the way. Len Snart.”

He held out his hand, and Barry politely shook it.

“I’m not ashamed to admit I was in a bad place when I saw you. The kind to drown your sorrows in. You made the world seem less bleak. I really needed you that night.” He cringed. “Wow, that sounded like a line.”

All Barry could do was smile, shifting his eyes nervously. A year ago, he would have sold his soul for a guy like this to use a line on him.

But Barry wasn’t talking and that tended to put people off.

“I’ve already worn out my welcome, haven’t I?” Len said with a self-deprecating smile. “Sorry, I just… wanted to thank you.” He started to get up, leaving Barry two choices.

Let the gorgeous man think he was snubbing him.

Or admit his secret.

Barry's hand flew out to grab Len’s wrist. He nodded for him to sit back down, and Len did, looking at him curiously. Retracting his hand to tug down the scarf around his throat, Barry revealed the ugly scar that had silenced him forever.

“You can’t talk?” Len said in realization, showing the usual shock and pity. “You can’t sing anymore…”

Barry shook his head with a miserable smile.

“I’m so sorry.”

Maybe his smile wasn’t too miserable with Len being so genuine.

Making up his mind, Barry dug into his messenger bag for his whiteboard. He usually kept it tucked away unless he needed it. He scrawled on it quickly and turned it toward Len.

I suck at sign language. It’s nice to meet you, Len. I’m Barry Allen.

“Nice to meet you too, Barry. May I ask… what happened?”

Barry always hesitated to explain. He’d been so terrified for so long afterward that he hadn't left his house—once he got out of the hospital—for almost three months. He was still terrified walking around the city sometimes, which was why he forced himself to go out as much as possible, or he’d never recover.

He kept his answer simple, erasing the previous answer and writing: Mugged.

“Do you know by who? Did they ever catch them?”

Barry shook his head.

“I am really sorry, Barry,” Len said again. “Can I buy you another coffee, and you can tell me what you've been up to? Or did you want me to scram?”

Barry felt his cheeks flush. Len still wanted to talk. Well, read. Most people got flustered, unable to handle how he was… broken.

He wrote his next message in a flash.

They know my usual.

“Then I'll make it two and be right back.”

The way Barry nodded after him probably made him look like an idiot. He didn't care. Len was sweet. And hot. Barry couldn't remember the last time he had coffee with someone who wasn't his friends or his parents.

While Len was in line at the counter, Barry had the chance to really look at him. He was tall, fit, poised, and had a really sleek style in dark grey and navy, with a long jacket and…

Barry's smile fell.

And the peek of an ankle monitor beneath his pants.

Len was a criminal.

#whumptober2019 #no.24 #coldflash #mute Barry #criminal Len

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ravens-words · 5 years

Text

Everything's gonna be okay, kid

This is what I'd like to, but probably won't get to, see on 3x05

"This is the last place I expected to find you."

Buck closed his eyes and hung his head. He'd come here for a breather, because his loft was starting to become suffocating. The beach should've been the last place Buck would even think about going to, considering what happened the last time he was here, but when he'd gotten in his car, no destination in mind, that was where he found himself. The first minutes he'd spent here were spent warding off a panic attack and a breakdown. It hadn't been fun, but once those minutes passed, Buck had been able to breathe, for the first time in what felt like forever.

Bobby sat down next to him, and he resisted the urge to just get up and leave. He didn't know how to behave, not after everything that's happened.

"I talked to the chief. He told me what happened. Why'd you do it, Buck?"

Buck shook his head. "I don't know."

Bobby sighed and Buck resisted the urge to snap at him. Instead, he kept his mouth shut and just listened. "I want to understand you, I do. But you're making it really hard, Buck."

He laughed, self-deprecating, and looked at Bobby for the first time since he got here. "According to almost everyone we know, I'm dumb, so it really shouldn't be that hard to figure me out."

"Buck..." Bobby trailed off. He didn't say anything else, just looked at him with that look of quiet disapproval that Buck had always dreaded. He turned his attention back to the water, and breathed in deeply.

"Why are you here, Bobby?"

"Because nobody's heard from you in a week. And you won't answer your phone."

Buck snorted. "I broke my phone, haven't gotten around to replacing it. But, you do know where I live, Bobby. You could've easily come to visit," he said sarcastically. "Any of you could have."

Bobby was silent for a few seconds, then took a breath. "You're right." They stayed in relative silence for the better part of ten minutes, and though it was getting uncomfortable for Buck, he didn't break it. A few seconds later, Bobby did. "You haven't given me an answer, you know."

"I'm dumb isn't good enough for you?"

"No, it isn't," Bobby snapped. "Because you're not."

"Alright, here's your answer. You ready for it?"

"Buck."

Back shrugged. "Because I wanted to be a firefighter, and what he offered seemed like a consolation prize. I thought the fire marshal position was temporary, that's why I took it. I don't want to be stuck doing it indefinitely." he told him, and there was a tiredness in his bones that was deep.

"He guaranteed you'd have your job back, as soon you were cleared, though."

Buck scoffed and looked at him. There was a puzzled frown on his face, and Buck realized that Bobby genuinely wasn't aware of what had happened. He laughed. "You don't know."

Bobby's frown deepened and he pursed his lips. "What does that mean?"

"It means, he told me I could work as a firefighter, at some point, but it'll never be with the 118."

Bobby's eyes widened. "What?"

Buck looked away. "At least this wasn't your idea, too."

Bobby, with great effort if the vein popping in his forehead was a indication , ignored the dig. "Why didn't you agree?"

Buck dug his hands into his eyes and laughed. He laughed, loud and hysterical, until the laughter turned into gut wrenching sobs that tore their way out of his chest like knives.

"Buck!" Bobby moved closer, and he felt his hand on his shoulder. He shrugged him off. "Kid, come on. Come here."

Buck struggled against the arms around him, and he tried to get him to let go, but Bobby held on tighter. Eventually, the fight left him and he just slumped against the older man's chest. It took him a minute to realize Bobby was rocking him back and forth like a little kid, and when he did, fresh tears sprung to his eyes; he hadn't been comforted like this in so long. He pulled away from the embrace and avoided his former captain's eyes. "It felt like a punishment, " he answered Bobby's question. He cleared his throat. "He wanted this whole thing buried, wanted to shut me up, but he also wanted to send a message."

He said nothing, so Buck continued. "I made a mistake, I know that. But I didn't have my head on straight, Bobby. I was desperate and I was hurt and alone. It felt like I had no one,so I lashed out like a child."

Bobby put his hand on Buck's head, and ruffled his hair gently. "That's not true, kid. You have us."

"Do I?"

Bobby stopped short, staring at him with wide eyes. "What?!"

"Do I have you?" Buck's voice cracked. "After the tsunami, how many times did you come to visit? How many times did you call, Bobby? How about Hen? Chimney? Huh? Even Eddie- the only times I saw him were when he dropped Christopher off and picked him up. But, I don't blame you, any of you."

"Buck-"

He held up a hand to cut him off. "Let me get this out?"

Bobby nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"It shouldn't be like that, Bobby. I shouldn't rely on you guys so much. It's not fair to you. You all have families, responsibilities. I'm not any of that."

"Hey!" Bobby held his chin and turned his face towards his. Buck was shocked to see his eyes were filled with tears, but what truly surprised him was the sheer anger on his face. "You are a part of my family, do you understand me? And you did make a mistake by filing that lawsuit, kid, but it wasn't just on you. You're right, we do have responsibilities, but we should've made the time for you." Buck had started crying again at some point, and Bobby wiped his tears away. "I should've sat you down and explained things. I stand by my decision, but I shouldn't have sprung it all on you like that. I just wasn't thinking straight, either, kid." Now it was Bobby's turn to avoid his eyes. "I didn't want you back before you were off the blood thinners for good because I was terrified of what could happen to you. I let my feelings cloud my judgment and I'm sorry for that," he admitted.

Buck leaned into the older man and wrapped his arms around him. He buried his face in his chest, and Bobby held him tightly, his hand stroking his hair gently. Buck wondered if this was what a father's hug was supposed to be like. "Thank you for saying that," he whispered. "And I'm sorry, too, Bobby. I'm so goddamn sorry."

Bobby nodded against his head. "I know you are, kid, I know." He patted his back, and Buck took it as a signal to pull away. He wiped his eyes, and smiled shyly at Bobby, a bit embarrassed to have cried on him twice in the span of less than thirty minutes.

"Buck."

He snapped to attention, knowing that when Bobby used this tone, it meant business. "Yeah, cap?" He winced when it slipped out, but Bobby just smiled fondly.

Buck sniffed and blinked rapidly. He refused to cry a third time today. "Thank you."

"I will fight for you to get back to where you belong, do you hear me?"

Buck nodded and his breath caught. Bobby smiled softly. "I hear you."

"You just focus on yourself; get better, think things through, and know that you have a lot of people in your corner willing to fight for you."

"You never have to thank me for looking after you." Bobby squeezed the nape of his neck gently. "Everything' gonna be okay, kid."

#evan buckley #bobby nash #my writing #i needed to get this off my chest #i love these two and I want them to be better

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imacrowcawcaw · 5 years

Text

Blood Brothers (Sanny)

*Smut alert! Smut alert! Also blood drinking during the smut!*

Author (As known on Various sites): Lady Lover - Rockfic, luluthechoosingcrow- AO3, theladylovingcrow - Wattpad and Deviantart, @imacrowcawcaw - main Tumblr, @theladylovingcrow writing/art Tumblr, @sammy_bluebells - Instagram

Fandom: Greta Van Fleet

Pairing: Sam Kiszka/Danny Wagner (Sanny)

Word Count: about 2500

Warnings/Tags: Vampire AU, blood drinking, gay pairing, smut (finger sucking, rim job, anal sex, masturbation), soulmates, cuddling, fluff, kinda angsty beginning, hurt/comfort, sweet ending

Summary: "He leaned forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of Sam's neck, smelling the coconut oil in his hair and the rich rush of life flowing just below his skin. Danny licked at his jugular, giving it a small, almost affectionate nip before grabbing Sam's arm that was around his back and bringing it forward."

Author's Notes:

Inspired by this post with @satans-helper 's tags and just her generally lovely self:) https://satans-helper.tumblr.com/post/188261333372/edyaleda-greta-van-fleet-by-lewis-vorn

Ahh I finished this hours ago but my phone died before I could post it and I was away from home :( But here it is! Hope everyone enjoys the smutty content lol

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"What do you *mean* she got away?" Sam screeched, looking, just for a second, like a crazed, homicidal *creature*.

Danny shrugged helplessly, running a nervous hand down the front of his faded red jacket. The dried blood on his sleeve was barely noticeable on top of the fabric.

"I don't know! I mean, I was about to go through with it, but then she- she..." he paused, big eyes staring pleadingingly at Sam. "Her mom called her, and she asked for just a minute because she never, ever misses one of her mom's phone calls. And she sounded so happy, so full of life and love and I just couldn't take that from her."

Sam looked back into Danny's slightly wet eyes, and sighed. He wanted to be mad - they hadn't eaten in weeks - but he knew that he would have done the same thing in that moment. Jake was by far the best at getting food.

"We gotta get better at this, babe. You know we can't afford to keep letting them go, not when Joshie and Jake are gone. We have to be tough."

"But it's not right! You know I can't do that to someone! I'm trying to be strong but I'm just too weak. I can't do this, Sammy."

"You're not weak, love, you have a fiercly gentle soul. Nothing can change all the care and compassion you have for people. And I love that you're still so soft, it's one of the most beautiful things about you." In fact, Danny had gotten even gentler as the years passed.

Sam pulled Danny into a hug, mindful of not breaking anything. Just because they could heal ridiculously fast didn't mean he was going to hurt his brother on purpose.

"I just- I feel like I'm not fit to be this, to do this. I'm not ready, and I probably never will be. Wouldn't you want someone else?" Danny whispered into Sam's hair, holding onto him tightly like he was afraid Sam might actually banish him.

"You fit because you're *you*, I wouldn't want anyone else. *We* wouldn't want anyone else, Danny," Sam amended. It didn't matter what his conscious was telling him, Danny had been a part of their family from the very start, way before, even. "You're stuck with us forever now, whether you like it or not. "

Danny chuckled softly, but it was a melancholy laugh, not one of genuine amusement.

"But that means you guys are stuck with me, too. And I can't, can't *hunt*" he forced the word out of his throat like it physically pained him to say it.

"Alright, enough of this self deprecating bullshit. I love you, big man. I'm *in love* with you, which means that I love your quirks, look past your flaws, and accept you for as you are. You can't hunt? You know it's hard for me too, but between the twins and what I can manage to do we'll have plenty, you don't need to. I want you with us because you belong with us, not because of the survival advantages or whatever animal bullshit you're thinking this is. Stop it! I love you, we love you, and we want you here with us!"

It was rare for Sam to get angry, and even then it was often more out of frustration and failed communication than true malice. He didn't know how else to get it through Danny's hair-padded-head that he was as much a part of their family as anybody else.

"Alright, you sap, I get it!" Danny muttered, sounding a little lighter. Sam knew from the tone of his voice that he didn't entirely believe him, but it was a start.

"I *am* sorry I didn't get her, though. I'm really hungry."

Sam sighed and pulled back to look at Danny, arms still around his waist. He didn't want to make him feel worse, but Sam was also seriously needing nourishment. They might technically be starving, actually, and not just in the oh-my-gosh-im-soooo-hungry way.

"Well, I don't think we're gonna be able to get anymore tonight, but there is still..." Sam trailed off, raising a provocative brow and tilting his head so his long tresses swung back, revealing the tendons of his neck.

Danny frowned again. "Sam, you know I wouldn't ever harm you like tha-"

"You wouldn't be! We've talked about this, honey, I've even researched it. It's completely, one hundred percent safe. It's just a little comfort, okay? I know that it won't really satiate the hunger, but I want you, you want me, and it will make us feel good for a while, you know it will."

"But- but we... I... fuck, Sammy," Danny murmered, protests all but forgotten at the sight of his favorite treat: his Sammy.

He leaned forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of Sam's neck, smelling the coconut oil in his hair and the rich rush of life flowing just below his skin. Danny licked at his jugular, giving it a small, almost affectionate nip before grabbing Sam's arm that was around his back and bringing it forward.

Sam's breathing got heavier as Danny rolled up his sleeve, running his hands lovingly over the baby soft inside of his wrist. He could feel his blood pumping, at this point less in his body than there should be as a healthy creature of the night much less a regular mortal. Their diet the last few weeks had been sparse thanks to the two main hunters of their family being gone on what they referred to as a "business trip".

Danny looked up right as he was about to attach his mouth to Sam, eyes shy but laced with a burning hunger he couldn't disguise. It was so endearing how he always cared for Sam - looked out for him, checked with him to make sure everything was all right when no one else would - even as he was about to feast on his blood.

Sam smiled encouragingly at him, eyes heavy lidded and arousal starting to thrum throughout his lower half. They'd discovered that this, the act of sharing blood with eachother, could be incredibly erotic and intimate. Another reason Danny didn't like "hunting" for victims: it was only something he wanted to share with Sam. Even if he didn't let the other person drink from him or have sexual intercourse, it was just too much like cheating to his tastes.

The taste of the blood, however, was sweet. Danny tried to remember what his taste buds were like before; couldn't. Nowadays, everything else was rather bland and muted, everything except blood. It was thick and bitterly sweet, like dark chocolate melted into a bowl and stirred up with sugar.

He drank, knowing he couldn't take much and so savoring every drop that Sam offered him. Danny kept his mouth latched onto the bite, couldn't release to breathe even if he wanted to, lest anything dripped onto the floor. Wouldn't do to waste what they had so precious little of.

Sam made a noise in the back of his throat, a strangled moan of both pain and pleasure. Danny finally pulled back, first holding Sam's wrist above his mouth so that the few drops of blood that could escape before the wound healed could be caught.

Danny was panting heavily, having drunken for nearly a minute without so much as a second-long break. His puplis were beautifully dilated, hiding most of his hazel irises, and they looked at Sam with such a strong message of love and devotion it nearly made him sob.

Now Danny presented his own arm to Sam, running his fingers over Sam's soft, full lips. He felt Sam's mouth part, his sharp canines running over his own skin and nearly slicing open the tip of his thumb.

Sam carefully pricked and sliced each of Danny's fingers, laving his tongue up and down them to catch the blood. He sucked down the digits with hollowed cheeks and hooded eyes, a sparkling of something ethereal, carnal, deliciously sinful glowing from within him.

Danny kept their otherworldly eyes locked, groaned low for Sam to hear how he was effecting him. He carefully curled his fingers within Sam's mouth, running over his palate and tangling with his tongue. Sam sucked him in deeper, swallowing around him and letting Danny feel the convulsions.

Danny laid a hand on Sam's throat, right below his jaw, and the other cupping his cheek, feeling him work. He rubbed his knuckles against Sam's teeth, reslicing them now that the cuts had healed.

Sam kept licking and drinking and sucking and swallowing, enjoying Danny's uniquely rich flavor of blood. Maybe it was because they were mates - by blood, by soul, by heart and mind - that all others paled in comparison to each other.

Sam pulled off of Danny's hand, taking a step back and hurriedly shucking his dark, expensive clothes carelessly, not giving a damn about the ripping fabric from his desperation-boosted-already-superhuman strength. He started helping Danny remove his own clothing before he got with the program and quickly undressed, too.

Danny spun Sam around, pressing him up against the wall in the living room. He snarled when Sam ground his ass back onto his erection, gripping a skinny bicep in one hand and using the other to hold Sam's wrist to the wall. Danny used his body to flatten Sam until he couldn't move, biting lightly - not enough to break the skin, they *never* drank from the throat, despite what some might believe (they werent *killers*) - at the side of his neck where Sam had flipped his hair side.

Keeping the one hand on Sam's bicep and moving the other to push on his back and keep him still, Danny slowly kneeled down so that his face was level with Sam's ass. He bit into the left cheek, drinking the blood that spurred out, then moved on to even more delicious things.

Sam nearly screamed when Danny's mouth closed over his hole. His mouth let loose high pitched groans and a startled yelp when Danny actually went inside the ring with his tongue, forcing him open on the slick muscle.

Danny ate him until he was sloppy and begging for more, the position bringing out Sam's more submissive side. The fingers that were on his arm joined Danny's mouth in exploring Sam's ass, one gently circling and then sliding inside. He moved it in and out for a time alongside his tongue, then added another.

Danny's fingers worked in a V formation, his tongue flicking at the rim of Sam's hole in between them. As he added the third finger and really started to stretch, Danny pulled back so he could watch how Sam's ass clenched down on him. Sam was moaning and thrusting backwards, chasing the brushes of Danny's fingertips against his prostate.

"I'm ready! Please, baby, fuck me, I'm so ready for you."

Danny stood up, keeping his fingers inside of Sam. "You want it? Gonna take me in, love me, hold me? Want you to," he said into Sam's ear, pumping his fingers hard and fast, the weight of his body the only thing holding Sam up against the wall. "Wanna be inside you, fuck you til you scream my name. Fuck, Sammy, so pretty, so sexy. Love you so much."

Danny removed his fingers, and Sam whimpered at the loss as he was turned around again. Sam wrapped his arms around Danny's neck, bringing his heaving chest against Danny's broader one and drawing him into a kiss. They kissed pationately, lips sliding against each other.

Sam pulled away with a gasp, letting Danny hitch him upwards so he could wrap his legs around him. Danny used one hand to guide himself inside of Sam below their connected hip bones, slowly easing the head in as Sam threw his head back and groaned.

They set a slow pace at first, Sam gripping Danny's shoulders nearly tight enough to break the bone. He moaned with his head thrown back, long column of his throat inviting Danny to suck hickeys onto the expanse of skin.

"Fuck! Faster Danny, c'mon an' do me good, honey..."

Danny grunted and sped up in compliance, effortlessly holding Sam up with one arm so that his other could run through Sam's lustrous hair. He snapped his hips, angling down just a little so that his cock rubbed at Sam's prostate.

"Danny! Oh, my god! DaaAANNNNNYYYY!" Sam shrieked, the name of his lover being pounded put of him and drawn out into a scream of intense pleasure.

Sam circled the head of his dick with his fingers, letting it gain the friction he needed to come from their moving stomachs. He orgasmed with the most beautiful expression Danny had ever seen on his face.

Danny fucked him through it, pistoning his hips right against his sweet spot and letting the rhythmic clenching take him over the edge, too.

"Ugnnn, Sam..."

They stood there - or, Danny stood there with his hands on Sam's ass and his mate's skinny legs hanging limp on either side of his hips, foreheads together. Sam panted against Danny's mouth, coming down from his orgasm with a blissed out, satisfied look on his face.

"I love you," Danny said to him, kissing his cheek tenderly.

"I love you too, so much," Sam replied, rubbing their noses together in a feline kiss.

Sam sighed when he got down from his perch on Danny's canted hips. They kissed again, soft and sweet this time, licking at the dried blood smeared across each other's mouths.

"C'mon, come lay down with me."

Danny took Sam's hand, let him lead them down the hall towards the giant memory foam king in the room to the left. Jake said it was ironic that they nearly maxed out a credit card on nice mattresses and bedding when they didn't sleep, but that didn't stop him from enjoying his own. Sam reminded him that there were other things one can do in a bed besides sleep, and that he'd definitely heard Jakey 'use' his mattress in that way.

Danny curled around Sam, wrapping his long limbs around him and pulling up their weighted comforter.

"Hey, why were you wearing a suit? Planning on going out?"

"Planning on *taking* you out," Sam corrected, noting the slight hint of not-quite-jealousy-not-quite-curiosity in Danny's voice. "I was thinking we could go to that nice German restaurant we drove past on Tuesday, I've been craving that schnitzel from the pub in Frankenmuth Village."

"You know it won't taste like it used to, Sammy, even if it was made by Herr Michels."

Sam sighed, "Yeah, I know. But, I still wanna go somewhere nice with you. Show off my man."

Danny laughed softly, tightening his arm around Sam's abdomen.

"Okay, we can go in a little bit. I wanna hold you first, though."

Sam rolled over in his arms, giving Danny an affectionate look. He kissed him, then rested his head on Danny's shoulder. They lay there, basked in the glow of the rising moon, not able to sleep but enjoying each other's company.

They were as connected as connected could be. No longer could anyone say that they weren't brothers, weren't related. They were blood brothers, blood lovers, soulmates for eternity. Their family would continue on in it's love forever.

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thevirtualcanvas · 5 years

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To Be Loved By: Prompto

Being loved by Prompto Argentum can be compared to a heavy summer storm. It surrounds your senses, falls on your skin like a million tiny kisses. There’s no break and it affects everything you touch, yet it’s warm and it’s welcome. Your life was a heavy long haze and being loved by Prompto is a relief, it lets you breathe, it begs you to feel. Sure it comes out of nowhere, in a clash and a flurry and your his for the taking. In the beginning it affronted you with an electric intensity that catches you by surprise, leaves you dazed and soaked in dizzying affection. Being loved by Prompto is like being caught out in the rain, there’s something alluring about being stood in the centre of the storm, watching as it whirls around you, a pure force of nature, and that’s exactly what he is.

He took you out to the local park and bought a picnic lunch for your first date. He’d just applied for the Crownsgaurd and still didn’t have much money but was so excited you’d said yes to going out he planned the day to the T. He took you out on the duck pond, bought ice cream, snapped photo’s of you all day long. Capturing your every moment on camera with a soft smile and a giddy heart. Then he took you to the founders festival and won you a Rogue Queen plushie with a sharp shot and a cocky look. He dropped you off at the door and you felt almost sad the day was over. He told you how much of a blast he’d had and wanted to know if you’d see him again. As if you’d ever say no, you we’re smitten the moment you saw him at his work, the studio when he took your yearly company photo (as an apprentice no less) and made you all wear silly hats, daft looks on your faces, and have an enjoyable time. He was charming, you flirted, he flirted, you found his number in the copy of the photo you received and a cute little note asking for coffee.

Then it seemed like it just happened. Awkwardly. Uncertain. Then you just fell into a routine. There wasn’t even a conversation. One day you just started to refer to him as your other half, he would call you his better half. He spends as much time at your apartment as he does at Noct’s. You’ve met the Prince a couple of times, just lounging on your sofa, that was a shock the first time it happened. Prompto apologised profusely. Did I forget to mention my bff in the whole world is the Crown Prince? He fixed the pressure on your shower and the broken latch on your window and it was forgiven that the bloody PRINCE was chilling in your untidy lounge. You also get a gift basket from the office of King Regis once a month as a thanks for letting Noctis ‘crash’ on your sofa when neither can be bothered to go home and decide upon a sleepover. It’s a joy to see him turn the space into something that belongs to both of you. You can often find him tinkering with camera’s on the breakfast bar. Editing images on his laptop in the lounge, hair pushed back and comfy clothes on. Singing in the shower as his running gear is spinning in the washing machine. Making you breakfast, he can do that much at least, singing little songs about the things you do as you get dressed in the morning, and begging for attentions before you leave for the day. So many little and longing kisses you almost miss your bus.

The few times you spend time at his house, his parents are never home. He says it doesn’t bother him, but – you know, he’d like them to meet you at least once. He just smiles, pretends like it was his dastardly intention to get you all alone in the first place so he can make his move. Prom, you remind him, we have a whole flat where you can make a move. Yeah but I haven’t seduced you in my childhood room, babe, he reminds you. Though it makes him sad, his found family is just as important to his as his adopted one (Which you only found out by accident. How can two people with jet black hair have a blonde kid??) You often find yourself under the precise hosting of Ignis Scientia. It’s Noctis’ night, but no one wants him to cook after last time, burnt toast anyone? It’s the handful of time Prompto smiles genuinely when he’s in the company of friends. It reaches his eyes, crinkles those beautifully angular edges and it reaches your heart. You want to kiss him across the table and all the way back home to the bedroom, if you make it, if not the sofa is fine too.

He truly is like a thunderstorm. His self hatred and deprecation can be alarming. It clatters through the day like a gong of thunder. Echoing through the walls as his fears and anxieties cause him to fall apart. He’s not good enough. Never good enough. Usually after a text from his parents. Or a bad session of training. When Gladio kicks his ass in sparring or Ignis reprimands his lack of concentration when it comes to first age history. Or Noct has bailed on him because of some boring dignitary and their brat and you find him curled up in your bed, sobbing like his heart is breaking, scratching and scratching at his wrists until they’ve bled all over your sheets. You can’t tell him otherwise. That voice in his head is so strong it blind-sides him, over-rides every logical thought and reason. You just have to ride the storm with him and wait until the grey dissolves and the rain patters to a stop. Then you pick up the pieces and build Prompto back together again.

Prompto is more affectionate after these episodes, he needs to apologise, but he also needs to feel deserving of your love. He’ll cling to your waist, search for your hands, seek your lips and you just have to be patient. It’s how he loves you. It’s the only thing in this world he’s confident in doing. He doesn’t know how to accept himself but you, you’re absolute. Infallible, he might be made of sunshine, but to Prompto, you are the sun. He gravitates towards you, basks in your light and finds his solace in your presence.

I love you, you know that, right? He’ll tell you every day. As you wake up, over message with tonnes of emojis and gifs to hide his serious tone, over dinner, and every time his goes out for a run. He tells you when he makes love to you, where ever he makes love to you. He bakes into every single touch. I love you. As he kisses you from top to toe. I love you. As he makes you see white hot pleasure. I love you. As he insists on touching you again, everywhere, long dexterous hands knowing exactly what you need. I love you. As he slides himself into your body, finally. Moving with so much vigour you might pass out. I love you. He’s ready to go again, body glowing, hands wandering. Eager to love you as many times as you’ll allow him, as long as you’re willing. I love you, you know that, right? Prompto will whisper into your ear as your curled up against his chest, long, lean legs intertwined into yours and fingers ghosting along your arms and shoulder. Holding you tight, even though you need to shower and you should really unload the washing machine. It weakens your resolve until all you want to do is fall apart in his arms and tell him: I love you too, you know that too, right?

Being loved by Prompto is like a storm, yet being in love with Prompto is the whole season. It’s hot and heady. It can wear you down and knock you sideways. But what can you say, you’ve always been a fan of the sunshine and being loved by it personified makes you the warmest and happiest person on Eos.

#prompto x reader #prompto argentum #reader insert #my fav sunshine boi #ffxv #my writing

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toonstarterz · 5 years

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BECAUSE I’M NOT POPULAR, I’LL READ WATAMOTE: CHAPTER #159

Another day, another chapter of Watamote to fill that hole in your heart.

The suspension arc continues on, and in what seems to be a reflection of characters’ emotions, it’s a slower chapter that on the surface, doesn’t offer much in terms of “progression”. Thankfully, my overly analytical mind is here to pick up all the delightful subtleties of our cast, and pick apart the unexpected, but welcome direction this series has set itself up to move towards. All aboard the Tomoko Train!

Chapter 159: Because I’m Not Popular, I’ll Still Be Suspended

Yeah, that figures. Suspension becomes a lot less stressful when you realize you’re too bored to be stressed.

Not much else to say other than the lighting in this shot is absolutely gorgeous, ya’ll.

Sorry...I was distracted by Yoshida wearing a tie. By all accounts, it should not look as good on her as it does. Too bad we only get it for like 1 1/2 panels, but I’ll take what I can get.

♪ Wooooah, we’re halfway there!

WOAH! Livin’ on a prayer! ♫

Just some more scenery porn courtesy of Niko. Her work has really come a long way.

I sure do love these unexpected pairings that get thrown our way from time to time. They may not be the matchups we wanted, but they’re sure as hell the ones we’ll undoubtedly love.

Tomoko at it again with the sick comebacks.

It may just be out of respect to her friend Komiyama, but I’d like to think that Itou secretly(?) would like to see Komi and Tomoko become closer. A true (friend)shipper on deck.

Ah, Itou. If nothing else, your friendship with Komiyama is the real deal if you can admit to all her lunacy.

I can’t help but love how Komiyama’s whole identity is 80% related to her glasses. No surprise since its a given fact that all meganekko girls are either super pure, or super perverted, and Komi has the distinct honor of being both.

Good luck, Itou! Just play the Lottes theme song and you're guaranteed to bring at least one person to tears.

I wasn’t sure if Tomoko fully cleared up the whole “Tomoki is my brother” thing in the groping chapter, but the implication here is that Yoshida still doesn’t know. This is building up to what will surely be a hilarious revelation.

Guess we don’t have to worry about adding Itou into the Tomokibowl, huh? That would’ve been such a trainwreck. Makes you wonder who’s Itou’s type though...

As in, “Are you doing well?” or “Well, how are you?”. C’mon, Yuri, you gotta dial down the tsundere-ness and give your favorite idiot a little more context than that.

Damn, Nemo was right on the money, wasn’t she? Even over LINE, she’s not afraid to play dirty.

Btw, I love how Tomoko’s expression doesn’t change at all while looking through the messages. Like her face is frozen from processing so many slaps in the face at once.

I think this is the first Tomoko has been genuinely unnerved by Katou’s (s)mothering. Getting spoiled is a hot fantasy the first couple times, Tomoko. But once it starts bleeding into your everyday life, that’s when it starts getting a little creepy.

Let’s be honest. We all know who this is, right?

Side note: How did she get Tomoko’s LINE number?

I wanna say it’s another Mako case where Okada sent her a message because of Nemo’s influence. Poor girl is falling down the rabbit hole.

Oooooh, Katou’s getting special treatment. In her defense, I don’t think it’s necessarily that Tomoko likes her best or anything. For one, Katou the only one whose message was fairly normal. But also, it’s easy to send a quick reply to someone you’re not as close with. Logically speaking, Tomoko would likely prefer to send more detailed responses to Yuri and Nemo because she’s closer to them. And she’ll probably ignore Ucchi entirely.

Of course, logic has no place between girls fighting for dominance.

The first time we get to see Katou’s inner thoughts and...it’s nothing special.

I wasn’t expecting to see a monologue of deep-rooted insecurities or anything. That’s not this series’ thing. If anything, that mundaneness works to Katou’s advantage because it shows that while she may be incredibly attractive on the outside, she’s just a regular person with simple concerns on the inside. If they’re really going to take Katou’s affection on Tomoko into romantic territory, it’s a good place to start.

The Cuck Sisters have graduated into the Ghosted Sisters.

I’m sure Katou isn’t trying to arrogant about being the only one to get a reply. I mean, anyone would have a bit of an ego boost from that.

But I’m sorry, Katou. There’s just one small thing you have to realize...

...finding out that your girl was out seeing other people is the initiation for entering the Tomoko harem.

Poor Itou. Girl was just minding her own business and now she finds herself in the middle of the moshpit.

On that note, I absolutely love the composition of this panel. Even though the line of sight is directed at Itou, Katou’s stance draws in your full attention. Even more amazing is how having these six specific people in the frame adds to the overall intensity. We having Tomoko’s old friends, new friends, and acquaintances all together for the same discussion, and it really emphasizes just how much Tomoko’s influence has affected the whole classroom dynamic.

Small tidbit, but I appreciate that Yuri asked about Yoshida, too. Those two haven’t had many scenes alone together lately since the pachinko parlor moment, and it would sure be nice to more of their relationship outside of Tomoko.

Ucchi’s teleportation powers always gets a good laugh out of me. I also like how the very first thing she asks is if Tomoko’s creepy, like she needs that confirmation to validate even being there. Girl needs to start coming up with better excuses.

Having Ucchi and Futaki in the same panel always feels so unreal to me. I feel like if the two of them starting talking to each other, the universe would implode upon itself.

Ucchi:

I like the direction they took this. It would have been very easy for Komiyama to pretend she doesn’t care a la tsunderism. But nope. Komiyama only has a mild interest in how Tomoko’s doing, letting Yuu act as a proxy for them. Even if Tomoko and Komiyama don’t care much about each other, their history belies this odd level of intimacy.

Alright, alright, you got me Nico Tanigawa.

...Poor Minami.

I think its a merit to the mangaka’s storytelling skills that we can easily infer that Mako’s talking about Yoshida. Between Mako being who she is, Yoshida being who she is, and their growing friendship gaining attention, who else could it be?

That’s...kind of sad, honestly. We’ve seen several times just how clingy Minami is to her (one-sided) friendships, but never have we seen her sound so dependent on others. It’s been hinted at before, but being a bitch is the one thing Minami’s good at, and she might actually know that. She may act stuck-up on the outside, but the fact that’s she’s so upfront about it may actually mask a bit of an inferiority complex.

Curse you, Nico Tanigawa, for making Minami a three-dimensional character with legitimate wants and fears.

I’m glad Mako isn’t mentioning her by name. She knows Minami enough that outting her friend will lead to harm.

On Minami.

Tomoko’s triangle mouth is unironically cute. There, I said it.

Character development for Yoshida, whaaaaaat?

Let’s face it. The trio of Tomoko, Yuri, and Yoshida are all slackers in some way, shape, or form. It makes sense that Yoshida would be the last of them to put any real effort into her future. Since she isn’t the type to make personal changes just because someone told her to, the reasonable way to make Yoshida understand is through observance. As thick-headed as she is, Miss Yoshida is not about to be left in the lurch while her buddies move on without her.

Between this and my recent watching of Aggretsuko S2 (shameless plug!), it’s become apparent to me that getting a driver’s license isn’t as “mandatory” there as it is in my country. I’d imagine it has to do with the work environment there being so focused on public transit, but feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.

Tomoko actually makes a solid point there, though I get the feeling she’s imagining Yoshida driving getaway cars for the yakuza or something.

Or, you know, her chauffeur.

Ignoring the somewhat obvious advertisement for a vehicle that I’m sure was blacked out in the original version, this is totally setting itself up for the next arc of Watamote. As summer vacation gets closer and closer, I was wondering just how Tomoko was going to spend it. She obviously can’t stay at home the whole time like she did in the past, so I was thinking she’d end up doing things with her friends like working part-time jobs, going to a festival, or in this case, a road trip.

Bring on the Road Trip Arc!

Oh, I get it. Tomoko did the whole “min-na” thing that slice-of-life moe anime girls do when talking about their friends, right?

Traitor.

I’m joking, of course, but only partially. It’s clear to us all that Tomoko feels like she’s betraying a part of herself for saying something so bubbly. It was a direction I had anticipated to some degree when Tomoko began making self-deprecating jokes about becoming a normie. It was always in that “haha, like that could ever happen” tone, but it was only a matter of time before Tomoko started to become the mask. It’s scary to think you might subconsciously be changing a core part of yourself, and that realization is something Tomoko will eventually have to come to terms with.

At least we get her most adorable, genuine blush ever thanks to this.

Damn, expulsion for driving a vehicle? What’s with this school and it’s beef with having your own set of wheels?

Ah, saving up for a car. The first glimpse into Tomoko’s (and everyone else’s) efforts at adulting.

To get the obvious out of the way, no I don’t think Mako and Yoshida are naked in this panel. While Nico Tanigawa have shown that they’re not above very mild levels of fanservice, I don’t think they’d resort to something this teasing.

Probably.

Anyways, there isn’t anything necessarily wrong with Yoshida’s decision. Taking things slow is very much in line with her character. Sure, it’s kind of inconsiderate of Yoshida to flippantly go the other way after asking for help, and Mako’s frustration is understandable. But more importantly, it highlights Mako influence on Yoshida, and the Kyoto Group in general.

When it’s just Tomoko, Yuri, and Yoshida, they have a unique bond where they don’t really try to push each other out of their comfort zones. Yoshida especially, for being so damn stubborn. But when you add Mako into the mix, a.k.a. the “Mom Friend”, suddenly the level of morale and effort within the group rises. And as the most “normal” friend, Mako’s existence helps to keep their friendship from growing stagnant.

As the Suspension Arc continues, the lack of “action” gives the cast some room for a little introspection. The gags themselves may have been on the limited side, but a lot of these set-up chapters usually are. The future is near, folks, and there are no signs of slowing down, for the characters or the series itself. Changes are over the horizon, but for now, the journey continues.

#watamote #watamote review #chapter 159 #no matter how i look at it it's you guys' fault i'm not popular!#tomoko kuroki #masaki yoshida #hikari itou #tomoki kuroki #yuri tamura #hina nemoto #asuka katou #kotomi komiyama #shiki futaki #koharu minami #mako tanaka #review

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callboxkat · 6 years

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(Un)Broken - part 3

Author’s note: I’m back! It’ll be at least a week before you guys get another part, but have this one for now. :)

Warnings: self deprecation, headache mention, doctor mention, injury mention, food mention

Word count: 1579

Masterpost in the notes!

...

Patton walked into his apartment and quietly shut the door behind him. He slid the lock into place, then leaned back against the door with a soft sigh. He didn’t know why he was upset. He should be happy, shouldn’t he? He’d spent the evening bowling with his friends, after all.

He just kept remembering that moment, when he’d cheered about Logan knocking down those two pins—because Logan had been having a really hard time, and it was the first time they’d hung out together having fun like they had before his injury, and Patton had just been so excited to see him finally hit some pins! Logan, though, had clearly not been nearly as excited. Patton had seen how he rolled his eyes. Probably thinking that Patton was making fun of him. But Patton would never do that—Logan was one of his favorite people in the world!

Patton traipsed over to his sofa and threw himself onto it heavily, facedown on the cushions.

He knew that it was dumb. It was just one little thing, one little eye roll. It just hurt him to think that Logan might have thought poorly of him, even for a second.

He was distracted from his wallowing when his phone chimed its text tone at him. Patton reluctantly rolled partway over, just enough to grab his phone from his pocket and bring it up to his face.

Oh! It was Logan! Patton quickly swiped to open the message. It was a group text, sent out to all of them.

Logan: I greatly enjoyed our excursion to the bowling alley this afternoon. I hope that everyone else had as pleasant of a time as I did.

A second message popped up a minute later.

Logan: My apologies if I somehow lessened anyone’s enjoyment of the evening. I understand that especially while I am still in recovery, I am not the most ‘fun’ person to be around. Thank you for inviting me along.

Patton started furiously typing, but a series of other messages were already flooding in from Joan, Virgil, and Roman, all telling Logan that they’d had fun too, and yelling at him for implying that he’d somehow made the evening any less fun. Patton sent off his own message anyway, and as soon as he did, the notification that Talyn was typing their own response came up. Good. Logan didn’t get to talk bad about himself! Not on their watch!

Several long minutes went by, and then Logan responded.

Logan: Perhaps I misread the situation. Thank you for your assurances. It will not be necessary to ‘march over to my house’, ‘physically fite’ me, or hug me so tight that you ‘wring out the nerdiness’

Logan: Additionally, Virgil, I feel the need to remind you that Patton may decide to physically fight you if you continue to insist that gloominess is your area of expertise.

Patton paused, then scrolled up. He must have missed that message in the barrage of notifications. He found it—Virgil didn’t get to be self-deprecating either!—then scrolled back down to reply.

Patton: I will! I’ll fite both of you if I have to!!!

Virgil: Ok Pat chill, no fighting necessary

Patton: Good!

Roman: We should go bowling again. You all only got a glimpse of my skills.

Roman: (Virgils dont interact)

Virgil’s and Logan’s replies came through simultaneously.

Logan: I do think I would enjoy another such outing.

Virgil: You can’t stop me

The chat devolved into banter after that, mostly between Virgil and Roman. Patton just read the messages as they came through, not replying, until the others had to leave.

…

Monday rolled around all too quickly for Patton’s taste. He didn’t particularly want to get up early today, to go to class—one of them was math, after all—but he supposed there were bright sides. He did also have an art class today, and he would get to see his friends at lunch! He just preferred Tuesdays and Thursdays to the other three days of the school week because he had his actual classes with his friends.

Patton struggled through his morning class, which felt like it was moving at a glacial pace. He felt like he’d been there for so long. But finally, the bell rang; and with immense relief, he traipsed down to the cafeteria to meet his friends.

“I don’t blame you,” Roman said when Patton had finished sharing today’s math class woes. They and Virgil were sitting together, eating lunch in the cafeteria. “When are you ever going to need to know how to calculate a third derivative?”

“Exactly,” Patton sighed, putting his head down on the cafeteria table. “But it’s required, for my major….”

“You—you could always ask Logan for help,” Virgil suggested after a moment. “He’s pretty good at math.”

“Uh, yeah, I sure hope he is,” Roman said, his tone of voice mimicking that of a certain well-known six-second-video. “He’s a math major.”

Patton shook his head, but he did so without lifting it off the table, so it was more like he just rolled it morosely from side to side. “I don’t wanna bother him. He’s still got his concussion thingy to deal with.”

“C’mon, Pat, it couldn’t hurt to ask,” Roman said. “Besides, he could do derivatives in his sleep. Concussion or not.”

Patton just let out a soft, extended whine. If he hadn’t still had his head down on the wooden table, he would have seen Virgil and Roman glance at each other.

He felt a gentle poke on the top of his head. “What’s up?” Virgil asked.

“He’s gonna think I’m dumb,” Patton mumbled.

“Why would he think that?” Roman sounded genuinely confused. Patton could hear Virgil’s chair creaking as he shifted.

“Because he already does,” he heard himself whine. He knew he should just stop talking, but… whoops.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Virgil argued.

At the same time, Roman said, “That’s preposterous!” He normally had a habit of pronouncing it like ‘perpostrous’, which annoyed Logan to no end. He was pretty sure Roman did it on purpose at this point, evidenced by the fact that he said it correctly this time, when Logan wasn’t there.

“Logan knows you’re not dumb,” Virgil continued. “And it’s not like he hasn’t helped you before. What’s up?”

Patton sighed, gathered his willpower, and lifted his head from the table, sitting up. “I… I guess you’re right,” he sighed. He forced his features into a meek smile. “Sorry, kiddos. I’m just tired.”

“That’s okay.” Roman said.

“I mean… I get it,” Virgil said quietly. “Logan’s got stuff to worry about already. But he’s getting better, isn’t he? He’s allowed to drive and use phones and everything again. And it’s—it’s like Ro said, the stuff you’re working on is easy for him. I’m not—I’m not saying it is easy,” he amended quickly, even though Patton hadn’t been offended. “Logan’s just….”

“A huge nerd?” Roman suggested.

“A huge nerd. In a good way. Not being like him doesn’t make someone dumb. And you—” he fixed Patton with such an intense stare that the sophomore actually shrank backwards a bit. “You. Are. Not. Dumb. Nobody thinks you are. Not me, not Roman, not Talyn or Joan… and Logan sure as heck doesn’t think you’re dumb either.”

“But….”

Virgil was clearly running out of steam (that still happened sometimes when he talked a lot, though he was getting better) so Roman jumped in.

“If we’re not allowed to talk bad about ourselves, neither are you.”

Patton looked at them both for a second. Virgil was chewing the corner of his bottom lip and Roman had half a piece of Crofter’s-covered toast forgotten in one hand, but both were looking at him intently.

“O-o-okay. You’re right. I just got a bit silly, I suppose. I don’t like not understanding things.”

“We know,” Roman said. “You could always get someone else to tutor you, but I’m sure Logan’ll help if you ask…. Where is he, anyway?” He frowned slightly, leaning away from the table to look around.

Patton searched the room for a moment too, then glanced at the Mickey Mouse watch on his wrist. Logan should definitely have been here by now, if he were coming.

Virgil briefly chewed his lip a bit more intensely than before, then stopped and opened his mouth. “He—could he be sick?”

Roman sighed. “Probably… I hope he’s okay. Logan never misses class.”

That was true. The first time any of them remembered Logan missing class had been when he’d gone to the hospital after his accident. Logan valued class attendance too highly, and he was religious about hygiene, so he rarely so much as caught a mild cold. Recently, though, things were different.

“Could be another doctor’s appointment,” Patton mused noncommittally.

“I thought he had one on Friday, though,” Virgil pointed out with a frown.

Roman shrugged. “He’s probably fine.” He set down the toast that he seemed to finally remember was in his hand. “I for one am just glad he’s taking care of himself.”

Virgil nodded in agreement. Patton took a sip from his drink and didn’t respond.

“Hey…uh, you’ve got an art class today, right?” Virgil asked, changing the subject.

Patton nodded, brightening. “I sure do!”

“What are you working on?”

Patton turned to grab a little sketchbook from his backpack and opened it up, showing Virgil a few sketches as he talked about his current project. He knew Virgil was trying to distract him. He let him do it.

...

Tag list: @patton-loves-coloring @starryfirefliesbloggo @purplesoul-at-hogwarts @gaylotusthatexists @quoth-the-sparrow @awesomelissawho @amuthefunperson @faithfreedom @heck-im-lost @gayfandomsaremything @bunny222 @syndianites @astraastro @momolinia @captainswan618 @hamilin-manuel-miranda @goldenkiddos @afilhadehades-blog @virgeofselfdestruction @theresneverenoughfandoms @iris-sanders-athena @super-magical-wizard @rainbow-sides @thefallendog @fanficptsd @zodiac-awesome @lookitsthatquietgirl @nerd-in-space @pearls-of-patton @ab-artist @angered-turtle @im-so-infinitesimal @raygelkitty @dr-gloom @whats-going-on-kiddos @the-dumbster @oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall @fillyourteacup @kittiebrick @youtuberswithalex

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fan fiction #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #ts fanfic #fanfiction #(un)broken fic #unbroken fic #college au

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

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Anon who just messaged me just now: omg seriously do not ever ever ever feel guilty about not being able to donate any more, like srsly, I appreciate EVERYTHING that everyone’s done to get me to this point, nothing has been anything short of life-saving. There have literally been days these past six months where I only had a spare two or three bucks to buy food with after rent, and thus was only able to eat because of someone’s $2 donation.

I completely mean it when I say each donation post I’ve made with like, an extreme sense of panic behind it, or that Moukie’s helped me out on, those were ones for stuff that was extremely time sensitive and stressful and urgent and that I could NEVER have managed to make without help. And with each of them, I pretty much juuuuust managed to scrape by with what I needed to come up with - so I’m being 100% literal (for a change, lol) when I claim that I do not think I would be able to be in this position right now if not for literally EVERY single donation I received these past six months.

I just mean like, obviously I don’t know who this is or how much you donated or whatever, but even without being able to tell donations apart, I can confidently say you and everyone else can feel free to feel directly responsible for getting me to where I needed to reach, because like.....its totally and completely true. I may not know how much you donated, but I srsly want everyone to know that whatever amount they sent, whatever it cost them to send it, whatever they had to give up or go without or save or budget elsewhere more than usual (and trust me, I KNOW people sacrificed in order to help me, and I will never ever be able to convey how much I’ve been affected just by KNOWING that people have at times prioritized my situation over their own personal priorities and concerns in order to help me hang in here) - just, yeah, anything you sent, whatever the amount, if it caused any issues for you at all, please please PLEASE know that it absolutely made all the difference in the world for me.

I would never ever want someone to screw themselves over to help me, trust me!! Like, I’m trying to be better about not doing the self-deprecating shtick as much, lol, so I don’t wanna say I’m not worth it, like I feel I’m a pretty cool guy and all and my need was definitely real, lmao, but that doesn’t make anyone else’s needs or issues any less real. You gotta take care of yourself, first and foremost, before you can afford to help others - I get that and truly believe that.

Our fucked up world needs as many giving and generous and community-minded people as it can get, these days, and that for sure includes the people who will hunt around for the absolute last $5 they have, in order to help someone else out....and it absolutely means those are people the world definitely needs to hang in there and stay okay - so always take care of yourself first and foremost, so that you can be your best self when you do have the opportunity to help others.

I don’t think anyone could say that’s selfish by any stretch of the imagination - I think its more like you just making sure you can bring your A-game. No matter someone else’s situation, you shouldn’t ever lose sight of the fact that you are every bit as important and worth prioritizing as any one else.

For the record, I truly do think I’m gonna be fine from here, I've crunched the numbers and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be able to stretch what I have enough for it to last me during this home stretch.

My surgery was SUPPOSED to be yesterday, but last Tuesday I got a call from my doctor about red tape crap with my insurance company so I was trying to sort that out all last week and thus it got pushed back another couple weeks, bleh, but I’m pretty positive I can make it work and won’t need to ask for anymore help.

I’ve made it through everything I need to do on my end at this point, and now its literally just a waiting game. Just trying to conserve energy and avoid stress as much as possible and give my jaw as little reason to be an asshole as possible, lol, so if I’m sporadic the next couple weeks like I was this past week, that’s the only reason why, nothing bad or anything like that. Just....me not being Good at Patience. LOL.

I understand people wanting to stay anonymous about donations, so I don’t know if anyone will ever take me up on this, but for real, if there’s ever anything I can do or help you out with, don’t hesitate to ask. If its within my capabilities, I would be super happy for the chance to give back in any way at all, and if its genuinely out of reach for me, I’ll figure out what I can do that’s still hopefully helpful in some ways. *Shrugs* If nothing else, I’m told I give good pep talks, when needed? LOL.

But for real, your message was sweet but totally in no way anything you need to justify or defend or explain to me at all. I’m only here because of what everyone’s already done on my behalf, and I would much rather people direct their goodwill towards others in need at this point, or treat themselves, than worry about me financially from here on out. The most helpful thing for me at this point is just good thoughts and hopes for a speedy rescheduling date.

(And that like, the doctor doesn’t accidentally nick a facial nerve and paralyze my face. Apparently that’s only a really really really slim chance and doesn’t happen often these days, but I just mean. Y’know. That would kinda bum me out, so I figure it can’t hurt to get some “Hi universe and also can you make sure the nice doctor doesn’t like, break Kalen’s face, please and thank you” energy out there.)

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azeher · 7 years

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I'm at work and I should not be slacking off right now but I need to do this.

I'm sad Mob Psycho 100 ended, but I'm not sad about the way it ended. A part of me suggested a high school continuation to myself and I quickly countered I DON'T WANT THAT. After everything he went through, Mob is finally genuinely happy and he deserves to keep that and his friends forever. A continuation would only mean more conflicts, more suffering. ONE gave us the perfect ending.

Sure, there were things about the plot I wanted more answers for, but this story was never about plot but about Mob wanting to grow and have friends and that's what we got, so nothing else matters.

I want to let clear that while I tend to obsess over different fandoms this one was not like any of those. From the beginning I felt something different. The characters and messages clicked directly with my soul. I found myself in many characters too. I was lonely like Mob, friendless and self deprecating like Reigen, angry like Ritsu, and I wasted many years of my youth just like Serizawa to the point of being as clumsy and naïve when I finally got out to the world.

But Mob was all about anyone being able to grow and be loved. No matter who you were or how old, you could still grow and get happiness. I was at such a bad moment and all of these messages always gave me hope and motivation and made me feel less alone, less awkward, less all the bad things my mind kept repeating to me about myself.

For me, this manga was more than just another fandom. It was truly special. I got the most amazing friends thanks to it. My art also improved. People keep complimenting my colors... Haha guys, guess where I got the idea to get crazy about neons and contrast from?: the Mob Psycho anime. It was so vibrant and just so beautiful and mixed so many techniques and styles it inspired me to try crazy stuff and mix everything and let loose. It helped me find my own style after a while of being told I had none of my own.

So ONE I have so much to thank you for. You are a great inspiration as a writer and an artist. You and Mob gave me so many things. I also think it's quite funny this wonderful story ended right when I finally can stand on my own in life. I'm not lonely or sad or alone or helpless anymore. I grew too and can move on.

I will forever have this story in my heart.

#mp100 #spoilers #text #i don't tend to write this sort of stuff but i owe it to this story #for all it gave me #i will miss thursdays #i will miss every character

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lifejustgotawkward · 7 years

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365 Day Movie Challenge (2017) - #348: Blade Runner 2049 (2017) - dir. Denis Villeneuve

As the end credits rolled on Blade Runner 2049 last Sunday night at the Regal Union Square multiplex, I turned to my friend and asked her my usual question, “So, what did you think?” She groaned out, “that was really boring,” and the wave of relief I felt at her response was the perfect summation of my feelings.

How did Blade Runner 2049 disappoint me? Let me count the ways.

I watched Ridley Scott’s original Blade Runner (1982) back in September. I was impressed, though not bowled over, by the theatrical cut, but I still wanted to give the final cut a chance. When I got around to watching that “definitive” version, I found that I actually missed Harrison Ford’s gruff, noiresque narration from the earlier edit of the film, but overall my appreciation for Blade Runner had grown and the second viewing allowed me to focus less on the plot and to better appreciate both the acting and the technical aspects of the production.

My expectations for Blade Runner 2049 were fairly high. I was eager to see how Denis Villeneuve built on Scott’s (and, of course, writer Philip K. Dick’s) visions of dystopian Los Angeles by pushing the narrative thirty years further into the future from the first Blade Runner’s setting in 2019. Although I missed the chance to see this new installment in IMAX - hey, those tickets are expensive when you don’t have spare cash to throw around! - I knew I still had to take the time to watch the film on the big screen. No TV could possibly do justice to an epic sci-fi tale of the Blade Runner variety, at least not for an introductory experience.

Bear with me, now, when I say that Blade Runner 2049 was a massive letdown. Yes, Roger Deakins’ stunning cinematography is practically guaranteed to earn him an Oscar nomination. And yes, the art direction, production design and set decoration further supports Denis Villeneuve‘s strengths regarding compelling visuals. I would also be totally fine with Renée April getting an Oscar nomination for costume design since the coat that Officer K (Ryan Gosling) wears throughout the film is incredible. Unfortunately, for the third year in a row (after Sicario and Arrival) my hopes for Villeneuve’s work have been dashed. For three years running he has fallen short of his ambitious ideas, whether attempting to concentrate on an idealistic DEA agent (Emily Blunt in Sicario), a linguist simultaneously mourning the death of her daughter and trying to make contact with aliens (Amy Adams in Arrival) or a Replicant Blade Runner (Ryan Gosling in Blade Runner 2049) who unravels a mystery about a female Replicant who was able to bear a child. All of these protagonists should be worthy of my undivided attention. Instead, Gosling - like one of Nexus’s new edition of Replicants - is just another in a continuing line of failed leads.

Part of the issue is Ryan Gosling’s own fault. In interviews I find him absolutely delightful, a funny and self-deprecating guy with a nicely offbeat sense of humor; in movies he is unremittingly bland. Whether we’re talking about The Notebook or Crazy, Stupid, Love or The Big Short, he never seems to have any discernible personality on film. It makes sense, then, that he would be chosen to play an android in Blade Runner 2049. But what does it say that he didn’t even play Officer K well? Replicants can be portrayed with emotion, if you recall Rutger Hauer, Sean Young, Daryl Hannah, Brion James and Joanna Cassidy in the original Blade Runner. Each actor breathed life into their characters in unique styles. So why couldn’t Villeneuve and screenwriters Hampton Fancher and Michael Green find a way to inject some flavor into their film’s characters?

The posters for Blade Runner 2049 imply that Harrison Ford and Jared Leto play important roles in the film, but in actuality, Leto’s “antagonist,” Niander Wallace, barely has any screen time and Ford’s returning antihero, Rick Deckard, doesn’t show up until the last third of the film. I enjoyed every moment he was onscreen, spitting his dialogue out with the same jaded sarcasm he had in the first film, but I wish the character had had more time to develop in the film. Wallace bears an undistinguished aura of evil, but what was supposed to be so special about him? Given the spotlight often put on his sightless eyes during “creepy” closeups, was his blindness really intended to be read as part of what defined him as bad (in which case, uh, what is that saying about disabilities)?

Next we have to take a look at the women of Blade Runner 2049. There are six notable female characters: Joi (Ana de Armas), a hologram who is a product created by Niander Wallace and who functions solely as K’s live-in girlfriend; Luv (Sylvia Hoeks), a Replicant who acts as Niander Wallace’s right-hand woman; Lieutenant Joshi (Robin Wright), K’s supervisor on the police force; Mariette (Mackenzie Davis), a "pleasure model” Replicant; Dr. Ana Stelline (Carla Juri), who works for the Wallace corporation in a capacity that I shouldn’t spoil for those who have not seen the film; and Freysa (Hiam Abbass), who plays a role that I similarly should not divulge. Of these six, Joi and Ana Stelline are the most sympathetic characters, but regardless of how these women’s actions are meant to be interpreted, the designs of these ladies are problematic.

Joi is an immediately likeable character, but since she is a product (and one who does not initially have a corporeal form), she does not have autonomy. With the push of a button, K can turn her off any time he wants, which I’m sure is an option a lot of dudes wish they had available for their girlfriends. Joi exists only to serve K, telling him how wonderful he is when he gets home from a long work day and providing whatever eye candy he desires (she can shapeshift to alter her clothing, hair and makeup). Should I ignore the fact that Joi has zero character development and applaud Blade Runner 2049 anyway for highlighting the ickiness of a future society where Joi-models are prevalent (thus eliminating the need for actual human women)? Maybe, but the film doesn’t bother to make a statement about this element of social interaction, other than the fact that it exists.

K is finally able to experience physical contact with Joi when she “syncs” with Mariette, a prostitute, to combine their bodies for a sexual encounter with K, resulting in my favorite shot in the film: an unsettling image of Joi and Mariette’s four blurry hands wrapping around the back of K’s head and caressing his hair. While this interlude incorporates an interesting degree of romantic intrigue - to what extent do K, Joi and Mariette understand what love is? - there is something a little too weird in the film’s dependence on the Madonna and Whore tropes, suggesting an either/or dichotomy where the only time a woman can possess both attributes is when she finds another person (technically a Replicant) who can temporarily provide the missing skills.

Luv is probably the best-developed female character, although since she is Niander Wallace’s servant, it is impossible to say where her allegiance to him ends and her own taste for violent retribution begins. Luv seems to genuinely savor hurting people, but I suppose that attitude was programmed into her by Wallace, which somewhat minimizes the cool factor in her badass fight scenes. It’s kind of odd, though, that she manages to outshine the film’s other resident tough gal, Lt. Joshi (I didn’t think anyone could outdo Robin Wright in this department, especially after Wonder Woman). Villeneuve and his writers couldn’t settle on how best to represent Joshi, so the character fluctuates between a generically butch stereotype and a leering boss who drinks too much and flirts with K. Again, not that women have to be only one thing, but I like consistency in characters rather than mixed messages. I wonder how much of Blade Runner 2049′s muddled and archaic depictions of women are thanks to Hampton Fancher, who also co-wrote the original Blade Runner’s screenplay, which was full of troublesome approaches to womanhood, sexuality and sexual consent.

In the end, the difference between Blade Runner and Blade Runner 2049 is like the distinction between a human being and a Replicant. 2049 tries to live up to the originality of that which inspired it, but it lacks the soul of its predecessor. It really says something that the most heartfelt moments in Blade Runner 2049 are two references to Ridley Scott’s film: a pivotal scene in Wallace’s lair that conjures up the memory of Rachael (Sean Young) from the film, and a moment in the penultimate scene that reuses a key piece of music from Vangelis’s original Blade Runner score. I recognize that many viewers see Blade Runner 2049 as a masterpiece, and I have tried many times in the past week to understand why, but I’m hard-pressed to comprehend why I should have spent close to three hours sitting through such an unsatisfying project, other than being able to say I bravely weathered this particular storm.

P.S. (because I couldn’t figure out where else to write this): I don’t know how many viewers will know where I’m coming from, but for the cult classic freaks out there, let me propose this theory: Blade Runner 2049 is trying to be like Paul Morrissey’s notoriously wild horror-satire Flesh for Frankenstein (1973). Check it out: a really bizarre and wealthy man (Udo Kier/Jared Leto) and his devoted assistant (Arno Juerging/Sylvia Hoeks) endeavor to construct a set of superhumans (FfF) or humanoid robots (B42049), entities that will give birth to a new generation of superbeings that will take the place of their inferior progenitors and obediently do their master’s (Kier/Leto) bidding. In fact, there are two specific scenes that reminded me of Flesh for Frankenstein while watching Blade Runner 2049: when Niander Wallace kills the naked, infertile Replicant woman (ugh, what a terrible scene), it mirrors a moment in Flesh when Arno Juerging, the loyal assistant, tries to commence sex with Baron Frankenstein’s female zombie-monster by punching her in the stomach and fatally damaging her internal organs, resulting in a grotesque display of violence similar to what we see in Blade Runner 2049.

Secondly, when Luv battles K at the sea wall and she kisses him, she is mimicking an action that Niander Wallace carried out when he killed the Replicant woman; this is also reminiscent of Flesh for Frankenstein since the Arno Juerging character often does horrible, perverse things - like conflating his lust for the female zombie with a disturbingly compulsion for violence - because he is following his master’s patterns. Take all that analysis for what it’s worth, Blade Runner fans!

P.P.S. I am also convinced that Blade Runner 2049′s Las Vegas wasteland scene was either an homage to or a ripoff of Nastassja Kinski’s desert dream sequence from another of 1982′s finest cult offerings, Cat People. Even in the slightly faded YouTube upload of the clip, the orangeness cannot be overlooked.

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oxfordeliterp · 7 years

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CONGRATULATIONS, PEACH!

You have been accepted to play the role of ARIA BELLEFONTE with the faceclaim of CRYSTAL REED. Please create your account and send it to the main in the next 24 hours. I believe you understood very clearly what the core of Aria is made of, and for that, every sentence of your application turned into gold because they described her perfectly. Every word, even those not written about her, turned into an ode so faithful to the character that you convinced me you know her better than I do, so when I am giving her to you, I am giving her wholeheartedly, excited to see where in that darkness you were talking about you are going to take her. I have no doubts that it is going to be an entertaining journey and I want to thank you for your authenticity. Insert here a joke about this application being just peachy.

OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION

Name and pronouns: Hi lovelies! I’m Peach, and I go by she/her pronouns.

Age: Nineteen

Time-zone: EST

Activity level: I’ve got commitments outside of Tumblr, surprisingly, but especially at this time of the year I’m able to be online quite frequently. At the least, I can make it online for an hour, and should anything truly drastic come up, I’d let you know.

Triggers: N/A - I’m comfortable with just about anything.

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

Desired character: Aria Bellefonte. Oh Aria, my girl. I guess what drew me to her at start was the fact that Aria is not a girl who enjoys an elitist scene, and not because she finds it an edgier viewpoint or because she doesn’t fit in, but because Aria was born with a lack of a damn. The girl is cold, cold down to her bones, and happiness is a thing that she simply does not care for. She doesn’t know how to register true happiness when it comes her way, and she’s like a child when it does; unable to process when it’s gone. Personally, I like writing the characters who I see very little to almost no glimpses of myself in, which I’d say is pretty much the essence of Aria, perhaps save for a lot of the bitterness we both seem to hold onto. I’m also drawn to very personable characters, but I’m also attracted to characters like Aria who are caustic and look to partying as a means of drowning out the rest of the world. With Aria there’s a very fun balance. Aria is not personable in the slightest, she’s authentically this sometimes lackluster, not-at-all decadent woman and yet she draws people to her like moths to a flame. I find the charm in her due to her comfort in being average: she cares nothing about changing herself. She does not want to be a greater version of herself, she’s content with who she is even if it isn’t what most people label ideal. Aria is dark, to put it plainly, and there is very little light in her. Where most people would seek to start pulling that out of her, I don’t want that. It’s not Aria. I want to encourage that darkness in her further and see how this girl attempts to cover back up all the places the sun’s shone now that her life is back to black-and-white without Elizabeth. Gender and pronouns of the character: Aria identifies as cis female, and uses she/her pronouns.

Changes: N/A. Perfect the way she is.

Traits: + Magnetic : Aria is by no means a people person, but she has a certain charm about her that puzzles even her. She’s not sure where it comes from. Something draws people right to her, maybe it’s the fact she’s always down for a party or it’s her deadpan sense of humor and deprecating outlook on the world. Maybe it’s just the sheer mystery of the girl, and people are desperate to crack the code, find out what makes Aria Bellefonte tick. Aria reels people in whether she tries or doesn’t, and she’s often conflicted on this. While she enjoys reaping the benefits of her charm, what it gets her and what it can get her in and out of, she’s usually less than pleased with the company that it entails.

+ Guileful : While she certainly doesn’t have the book smarts one expects out of an Oxford student, Aria is quite clever when she wants to be. Her wit is impeccable (even if it sometimes straddles the boundaries of honesty and cruelty) and she’s very quick to catch on to things. Just because her grades may not reflect a bright student, Aria knows a lot more than she often lets on and she’s certainly smarter than she seems. After all, she’s made it this far.

+ Imperturbable : Very laid-back and easygoing, not a lot can wiggle its way under Aria’s skin and truly elicit a reaction out of her. Excitement, distraught, expressions, really, are not Aria’s thing. Things don’t get under her skin, because that would insinuate she cared. Aria would much rather go with the flow and ride the waves than attempt to swim against something, and this makes her the girl to either want to be with or want to get away from. There’s not a lot she’ll pass on doing, whether it’s a party or drugs or something else entirely. Looking at her affair with Elizabeth in particular with this trait, where some people would have perhaps demanded more out of that relationship and to essentially force a decision in the age old ‘me or them’ ultimatum, Aria isn’t like that. She genuinely did not mind that she was a secret, kept behind closed doors, because whatever made Elizabeth happy made her happy. Just the fact that she had Elizabeth was enough, and the rest she was willing to work around. There’s really only ever been one instance where Aria’s threatened to falter in this, and it was when Elizabeth was found dead. Even then though, it doesn’t seem to visibly wear at her as far as anyone else is concerned.

+ Candid : Aria will tell you the truth, or at least what she thinks, whether you ask for her to or not. Aria doesn’t believe in wasting time sugarcoating things, padding a blow; she says what’s on her mind and what she means. Some people find this striking honesty in her quite endearing, because it means she has your best interests at heart and does so out of kindness. Other people find her a little too blunt, saying the things that often shouldn’t be said at all due to their harsh nature. Aria simply doesn’t have the energy to waste lying to someone. Who you see with Aria is who you get, plain and simple.

- Cold : It’s short and simple, but there’s not another word that describes Aria quite to a T like this one does. Impersonal, apathetic, and unconcerned with the world around her, Aria simply lacks a care in and for anything. She’s not the nicest person in the world either, and it doesn’t take much to wind up on the end of one of Aria’s scathing comments, or her bad side.

- Subversive : Trouble. The girl is trouble. Running with Aria Bellefonte means you’ve signed yourself up for whatever she feels like, and there’s not much she says no to. She has a taste for the rebellious lifestyle, despite not partaking because she wants to get a message across. She partakes because it bides her time well, and it’s enough to give her substance to where she feels like a person. Destructive (especially towards herself) and quite corrupted, she knowingly drags people right down the hole with her in all of her antics. Even someone like Aria doesn’t want to be lonely forever.

- Detached : Aria’s categorized by her tendency to be very closed-off and withdrawn from the rest of the world around her. She operates on her own frequencies entirely, which some don’t translate as a bad thing, but for Aria, it kind of is. She knows she’s never really been the most conventional human being and is better off shut away inside her mind. It leads her to being alone most of the time because she refuses to let anyone in; she doesn’t think they quite get it, that what they see is what they’re getting and there isn’t anything behind her veneer. There are very few emotions in her bag of tricks. She’s an abyss of a girl underneath her skin and sharp tongue, black nothingness, and hardly any warmth to her. Aria doesn’t let people get close not because she’s scared she’ll run them off, but because she simply doesn’t want them there. It’s a little easier on her deepest level of subconscious to be self-destructive when it’s just her and no other liabilities.

- Vindictive : This is a more recent development in Aria’s personality, but god, has she acquired the taste for revenge. It’s a quiet, concealed thing like most things she feels, but it’s just as dark as the rest of her and is a little more twisted than typical. She’s always been acrimonious and rather unforgiving, but it’s being blatantly vengeful that Aria’s never dipped her toes into. To her, it seemed like another catty, pointless way of wasting her time, but she’s started to see it in a different light, a way that makes sense to her. Aria’s never really dove into her darkness, just sort of treaded in it, but ever since Elizabeth’s passing and her suspicions have started to heighten, she’s been testing her limits by sinking into it and seeing how long she can hold her breath. For Aria, the thought of openly acting on her resentment (especially towards that shady fucker Marc) is growing into a delicious thought in the way some people like how sugar tastes on their tongue.

Extras: MAJOR — You can bet all your money in the world that Aria was undeclared for as long as she could possibly manage, mostly because she’s never given much of a damn about schoolwork. Once she decided though, she picked something that didn’t entirely bore her to death and was relatively easy compared to all the others at fucking Oxford, which puts our girl in Sociology. Her parents went wild over this decision, as Sociology majors can go into government research or private consulting, and thus, keeping the money alive.

PARA SAMPLE

The satisfying 'click’ of the door’s lock turning seemed as if it echoed through the room. A flash of dark hair flipped over a girl’s shoulder, revealing two rows of perfectly white teeth framed by rose lips and a downright wicked look twinkling in azure eyes. It spelled out one thing for Aria, and that was that her death was on its way. That’s all she ever knew, being with Elizabeth; she was going to stop her heart one of these days, and Aria didn’t know when or how, only the ominous looming of the storm cloud on the horizon.

“Finally,” Elizabeth sighed dramatically, the smile still never leaving her face as she peeled away from the door. Her sauntering was slow, towards the bed where Aria had leaned up against the frame, hands holding her up. “We’re alone.”

One of Aria’s eyebrows quirked. “Nice deduction there, Sherlock,” she pointed out, struggling to maintain her expressionless demeanor as the smile started to declare war on her muscles. A typical Elizabeth thing, making her smile even when Aria was positive she was a rare cause of requiring more muscles in her body to conjure a smile than it did to frown. She watched as Elizabeth grew closer, dragging in her movements as a means of seduction. “What are you going to do about it?”

Not as though she’d admit it, but her breathing was beginning to grow labored, pupils dilated in lust at the sight of Elizabeth within fingertips reach with that sinful fucking smile on her face. “I think you’ve got a pretty good idea, Bellefonte.”

Aria couldn’t move her hands off the frame of the bed, couldn’t so much as move an inch as she watched Elizabeth pierce the bubble of her personal space. She was captivating, enough to steal the breath from her lungs, and it seemed by the look on Elizabeth’s face that was exactly what she planned on doing. Palms attached onto the column of Aria’s throat, warm fingertips splayed out along her jawline and cheek that were beginning to set little fires where they touched, and the last thing Aria remembered before closing her eyes was the sight of Elizabeth lunging for her lips.

Intimacy was never something Aria could find herself to be comfortable with, both physical and emotional. She’d never quite understood how girls in grade school were always linking arms with one another walking to class, how people found comfort in holding someone else’s hand, how people would dance on random strangers at parties, how couples could make out and fuck and not be bothered by it. Coming to understand how people could so carelessly and easily toss around that fucking forsaken L word was an entirely different ballgame she chose not to play either. She’d never cared for any of it, really, mostly because she couldn’t find it in her already stone-cold heart to make room for anybody else and their touches or their feelings. There was barely room inside for what little of her she allowed inside her rib cage.

But Elizabeth was like a flower, planting its seeds on the day they’d met and providing its own source of sunlight and water as their friendship blossomed. No one had anticipated the two girls to end up being acquaintances, much less friends, but they had, and they were almost unstoppable. It took a certain type of person to truly tolerate either of them, and it came as no surprise that that type of person was the other. With Elizabeth in her life, Aria finally truly understood how empty she’d been previously. There was always a lingering darkness inside of her, the empty void that kept itself filled, but Elizabeth knew exactly where to start puncturing holes to let a light in. Normally, Aria would have been quick to write it off, say it didn’t suit her, but it had. The friendship had swiftly evolved into the slow burn of whatever their relationship was now and it should have shut Aria off entirely. It didn’t. Elizabeth had grown into a beautiful, wild rose, housing itself in between the spaces of Aria’s ribs, basking in the light that finally knew a way inside, the careful start of the garden of Eden. Laughing, smiling, the teasing and the kisses everything in between, all of it felt right with Elizabeth. It didn’t feel right with anyone but her, and that’s how Aria knew it was something different. She’d even go so far as to describe it as happiness.

She could feel Elizabeth’s fingers start to tangle in her hair as they kissed, Aria’s arms winding around Elizabeth’s waist and pulling her in closer. Times like these were the only time she could physically feel her brain start to short-circuit, every nerve an open ended wire, her heart actually beating in her chest like it was threatening to jump ship at any moment. Elizabeth was soft and sweet, a hint of salt and the rush of adrenaline that came with such a secret, it forced love out of Aria. She couldn’t help but to be fucking head over heels for her best friend. It was simple, it was blunt, and god, did it make her feel alive.

Even if the lock did have to be on the door at all times, and ensuring no one was looking.

“As good as it was in those ideas of yours?” Elizabeth asked when she broke for air finally, breathless laughs escaping her and her eyes still glittering as she teased. Her lips were swollen from the kissing, forehead pressed against Aria's and from the corner of her eye, Aria could see the strap on her top beginning to slide down her shoulder. At one point, she would have run in the other direction at the thought of feelings, emotions, intimacy. Now all she wanted, all she could think about, was having as much of Elizabeth in her system as possible.

Aria merely smirked, hands gripping so tight on Elizabeth’s waist that there wasn’t even room for the hope of keeping distance. “We haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.”

#aria bellefonte #accepted

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