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thesoftestirises · 2 years

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always, forever - one.

♡ pairing: steven x reader ♡ rating : 18+ (smut in part 2) ♡ word count : 6k ♡ warnings : age gap relationship (the characters are both well into adulthood, but it is a ten year difference). this shit rated t for THERAPY! steven’s gonna make you feel good about yourself whether or not you’re ready for it! ooc steven - rewritten to fit the au parameters. ♡ summary : Steven is a veteran journalist with a thirst to do the right thing. You’re his insecure cameraperson. The two of you fall in love slowly, then all at once. ♡ an : reupload, last one kept crashing. this is a two part miniseries.

“Newbie!”

You sighed, setting your pen back in your cup and turning around in your swivel chair. You’d been at this job for at least seven months, but you were still getting called ‘newbie’ by the editor in chief. You briefly wondered if he even knew your name. It wouldn’t surprise you if he didn’t.

Gold Standard Reporting, the organization you worked for, was known to push their employees harder than any other news company. Which was really saying something, because most journalists worked crazy hours. But GSR, being a newer company with fewer employees, had more tasks to do spread out over fewer people. No one had time to really fraternize, especially not the editor in chief, Ken Damiani. But you loved it there anyways. You were constantly surrounded by the best and the brightest, rubbing elbows with people who were working on groundbreaking investigative journalism. You often felt unqualified to even be there. Every day you half expected them to realize their mistake and fire you.

Ken Damiani was hunched forward in his chair when you arrived at his door, playing with a stress ball while speaking to the person across from him. His expression was serious, but there was a spark of excitement in his eyes and a quirk of a smile on his lips. It was the first time you’d ever seen him look pleased.

He turned to you as you entered and gestured for you to sit down. You took a seat next to the stranger, who you quickly realized was Steven Grant of CNN. Your eyes widened in surprise, which he seemed to notice. He smiled politely and reached out for a handshake, which you responded to after an awkward beat. Steven’s cordial smile melted into one of genuine amusement, barely stifling a chuckle at the expression on your face.

“Steven, this is Y/N. She was the most recent addition to the GSR family,” Ken said, gesturing to you while not making eye contact. Steven nodded to you in acknowledgement, studying your face as if he was trying to commit you to his memory. “If it behooves you, she can act as your videographer. Her technical skill is very good.”

You looked between the two men in front of you in confusion. Steven’s videographer? Surely he had a team of those back at CNN. Ones who were way better than you, like ones who had actually graduated with a degree in journalism from a good college. Also, ‘behooves’? Who still talked like that?

“That would be great, if Y/N wouldn’t mind?” Steven asked, turning the question over to you. Had you not been focused on other things, you probably would have taken more time to appreciate how he gave you the space to say no.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m just missing some context. I thought he worked at CNN? Is he allowed to do this?” You asked.

“I’ve actually parted ways with CNN,” Steven said, clasping his hands together and bringing them over his knee. “Our goals were no longer in alignment.”

“Really? What was the final straw?” You asked.

Steven pursed his lips, as if he was contemplating whether or not he wanted to answer.

“None of that now, Steven doesn’t have time to be questioned,” Ken said, waving a hand dismissively. “Now, what are you doing next week? Do you have any assignments?”

“Uh, a piece on the new cat cafe craze in Newport-”

“Okay, so nothing important. Listen, all the other videographers are busy, and Steven was just talking to me about a potential debut piece by him for GSR.”

Steven’s idea was to create a series on the growing divide between Americans. He called it ‘Hate thy Neighbor’. He wanted to create a space for people to tell their own stories and hopefully, bridge the gap after understanding one another. You thought the idea was overly ambitious, but if Steven was the one at the helm, you could see it becoming something worthwhile.

He invited you to get tea with him to further discuss the plans, which was surprisingly friendly of a guy who was so much more important than you it was comical. Steven had a Peabody award, for fuck’s sake.

You looked over at him while he casually stirred sugar into his drink. Beyond just being an incredible journalist with integrity, Steven was the most beautiful man to ever be in the news circuit. He was not only a trusted face with the most mesmerizing accent, but one of America’s favorite sex symbols. You were realizing now that the cameras at CNN had never been able to fully capture how blindingly gorgeous he was. His dark curls, his warm brown eyes, the way his button down struggled to conceal the size of his biceps. He was godly.

He raised an eyebrow when he noticed you staring. You immediately felt your face heat up and looked down, suddenly taking an unnatural interest in your own cup of tea. You considered breaking the awkward silence, but you weren’t really sure what to say. He took pity on you, and spoke up instead.

He cleared his throat and took his spoon out of his tea, laying it onto a napkin he had neatly folded on the table. “So, Y/N. Where are you from?”

“Um, Wisconsin, actually,” you said, picking at a loose thread on your cardigan.

“Did you like it there?”

“Not at all,” you said without hesitation.

Steven gave you that patented single eyebrow lift, which you were quickly realizing could get anyone to keep talking. It was probably why he was such a good journalist.

“I just don’t have great memories associated with that place. I’m much happier here. Big city, lots of people.”

“Were you from a small town?”

“I’d say it was more of a suburb. It was called Ives, about thirty minutes north of Madison.”

“Interesting. Do you go back often?”

“Once a year for the holiday season,” you said, crossing your legs underneath the table. “I try to avoid it, with the cost of airfare and all.”

“Not because of the negative memories?”

You blinked at him. “That’s part of the reason why I stay away, but it really is an expensive endeavor to go back. I’m not making a ton of money as a journalist, believe it or not.”

Steven chuckled lightly at that, the laughter lines around his eyes beginning to make an appearance. “Fair enough.”

“What about you?” You asked. “How often do you go home?”

“Not as often as I’d like,” Steven said, sincerity coloring his tone. He rested his arms on the table and leaned in. “My family is always busy. But I do miss them and I enjoy my time at home.”

You thought it was fascinating how he side stepped his family history and made himself sound so normal. The Grant family name was well known, even in America. They were heirs to a massive fortune from early investments into oil and telecommunications. Practically royalty. Steven probably could have gone his whole life without ever working, and yet he went ahead and hid his identity to apply to work as a correspondent for CNN. It took a few months before the cat was let out of the bag, but he had already proven he was there for his skill, not his surname.

“You seem nervous,” he said.

“I am, you’re a big deal,” you mumbled, taking a sip of your still piping hot drink just to avoid staring into his intimidating gaze. You could feel your tastebuds burning and your brain screaming in protest at the pain. How could you, a journalist, be so poor at communicating?

“We’re coworkers now,” he said earnestly. “We’re on the same level. If this all goes well, I suspect we’ll be partners for a while.”

“You haven’t seen my work before,” you said, chuckling self deprecatingly as you moved your mug around in a circle mindlessly, watching the liquid inside swirl. “You might hate it.”

“I have seen your work, actually. When I was doing my original research into GSR, I saw some pieces you’d worked on. I understand videography wasn’t what you joined GSR to do, but you have remarkable style. The way you do cuts in interviews is almost more appropriate for movies. You make any story seem riveting. That’s why I immediately accepted,” Steven said, pausing to check if his tea was still too hot to drink. “I suppose you could call me a fan.”

“What?” You gasped, then winced at your own unexpected outburst. You were supposed to internalize that.

Steven smiled, and reached across the table to place his hand over yours. God, you sure hoped he couldn’t feel how sweaty your palm was from the top of your hand. “I hope that by the end of our trial run that I can teach you to be a little more confident. You’re very talented.”

You tried to search for something appropriate to say after a compliment as heavy as that, but you fell blank. Honestly, you’d never felt so validated in your life, and Steven had known you for a grand total of maybe two hours. “I’m sincerely, really thankful. I hope I’m worthy of the praise.”

“You already are, Y/N. No need to thank me for stating the obvious.”

He removed his hand from yours, but the warmth remained.

“So, as we discussed earlier regarding the project...”

Today was day one of being on the road. Well, it was a trial run close to home, so technically you weren’t going far at all. You even got to go back to your apartment and sleep in your own bed after the day’s work had been done and Steven dropped you off at home. He had suggested that you two carpool once he picked up on the fact that you had a clunker for a vehicle and you were a little terrified to drive it. He had insisted in spite of your protests and scheduled a pickup time. You were too shy to tell him how much you appreciated it.

“Are they really going to do it? Protest in the National Mall?” You asked, flipping through the pages of notes Steven had made on the group you were interviewing.

“You don’t think they’ll go through with it?”

“I don’t think the overwhelmingly liberal residents of D.C. will let them.”

You were still nervous around Steven, but he was shockingly nonjudgmental and you found yourself rapidly warming up to him. At least now you could talk to him without shaking like a leaf the way you did the first time.

“They’ll get yelled at the whole way through the streets. It doesn’t seem very safe,” you said, shrugging.

“Perhaps they believe in their message, however foolish it may seem to us, and they’re willing to risk their safety in order to speak out,” he said, briefly taking his eyes off the road to look at you.

“I can’t understand it,” you said, shaking your head. You turned to face Steven’s side profile, tracing your gaze down the curve of his nose. “You think they’ll take offense? To us?”

“Maybe, maybe not. They did grant us an interview, though, so they can’t be too hostile. I often find that people are much less combative when faced with a camera.”

“I did mean to ask, by the way. Why are you dressed so casually?”

You had dressed as you normally did for interviews, pressed slacks and a blouse. Steven, on the other hand, had opted to go in dark wash jeans and a maroon shirt. He looked devastatingly handsome, like boyfriend material. But he always looked like that to you.

“I wanted to try and level with them as much as possible. Make them feel less like a spectacle,” he explained. “GSR is also very lax with their dress code and I wanted to take advantage of that. I was thinking of dyeing my hair something fun too, what do you think?”

You giggled when he turned to look at you, a bright smile lighting up his face at his own joke. “I think you would look good in pastel pink.”

“Hm, maybe that would be a stretch. Brown?”

You paused and considered it, considered him. Steven was ridiculously handsome, as you often mused to yourself. He had a classically handsome face, like a golden age Hollywood star. He could probably do anything to his appearance and still look like a dream. A few rays of sunlight passed through the window and filtered through his curls as he glanced over to his right to check for cars. The light turned the hair at the top of his head a warm brown, colored with red and orange. He looked over at you as you stared at him, giving you a questioning expression.

“Your hair is perfect as it is.”

He blinked, but quickly recovered. “Thank you, Miss Y/N.”

You cleared your throat and looked out at the road as you thought of things to say to fill the silence.

“Do you have your questions prepared?” You asked.

“No, I never write questions out,” he said as he flipped on his turn signal and switched lanes.

“What?”

“I don’t believe it’s a good method of interviewing. If you prepare questions, you’ll feel obligated to get them all answered. So instead, I just do enough research to hold a conversation and let the person I’m interviewing talk. It’s their story, after all. That’s what this is about, you know? Informing and bringing people together.”

“But what if they lie to you? Or try to take you off from the story that was meant to be told?”

“That’s where my problem with CNN stemmed from. They let people lie and take us off track from the real issues all the time for the sake of ratings. Now? You and I can simply not air the interview at all,” he said simply, glancing quickly at you before focusing back on the road. “Don’t worry, though. These people aren’t politicians, they won’t pull those kinds of tricks on us. And if they do, I believe the two of us can handle it.”

You appreciated that he kept referring to the two of you as “we”, constantly reminding you that this was a partner project to him. It wasn’t just Steven, nor was it Steven and friends. It was Steven and Y/N. You also appreciated the amount of faith he was putting into you, allowing you to make a lot of calls on your own regarding b roll footage. He said he trusted you to convey the story visually, and he was personally more concerned with his own ability to perform to standard.

“We’re almost there. Are you ready?” He asked as the two of you were halted at a stop light.

Your lips curved up and you nodded. “Yes.”

The first story had gone viral.

Steven’s patience during the interviewing process had made one interviewee change their mind mid interview, and the entire thing had been caught on camera. That clip alone was shared over ten thousand times on Twitter and reached 2.6 million views on YouTube in the first two days. The full hour long special had 800,000 hits by the end of the first week. You refreshed it every few hours to see the numbers go up. It was wholly unexpected and even Steven seemed surprised by the success.

The story itself was one that had been well put together, focusing on the people and the build up to the protest, and had some pretty excellent visuals, if you do say so yourself. Steven said it was everything he’d dreamed the first episode would be and more, and he was really excited when GSR greenlit the two of you for a series.

He’d asked you to come get dinner with him as a celebration for, well, everything. You’d tried to decline, but Steven seemed to understand the line between you not wanting to do something and you fearing that you were a burden. He ignored you and made reservations for two at a nice restaurant close to your workplace so that you two could head over directly after work.

The sky was dark gray and rain had been coming down in slow, fat drops. Not quite enough to call for an umbrella, yet Steven was using one anyways. You had run off ahead of him to try and catch as many drops in the palm of your hand as possible, a game you’d picked up during childhood and hadn’t dropped since.

“What are you doing?” He laughed, beckoning you to come back under the safety of his bright red umbrella.

“Having a good time, spoilsport,” you said. “Put that thing down, this is hardly even a drizzle!”

Steven rolled his eyes, but closed the umbrella and stuffed it into his work tote. He quickened his pace and caught up to you. “You seem like you’re in a good mood.”

“I love this kind of weather,” you said, looking up to the sky and wrinkling your nose as you caught a droplet on the tip of it. Steven snorted at the expression on your face as you attempted to look at the raindrop before wiping it off.

“Why’s this your favorite kind of weather?”

“I think the gray highlights other colors. Makes stuff really pop out, like grass or your red umbrella. It’s not torrential enough to be dangerous, but it’s just enough to feed the planets and animals. Plus, it’s still warm out,” you told him. Upon his silence, you glanced over at him and moved a little slower when you noticed he was just watching you with an unreadable look in his eyes. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy that you’re happy,” he said, smiling at you.

You felt your own lips tugging up at his honest admission, and turned your head away to look at the city view in front of you. The lights and the sounds were something that you’d grown used to over time, but sometimes it was nice to stop and stare at the architecture and the people. It was so easy to get caught up in all the negativity of the world, but just looking at the creations of mankind made you feel a little more hopeful. It reminded you that people were capable of amazing amounts of progress. That you, as a species, had made it this far, and there was still more to go.

A man with a guitar was sitting on the ledge of a fountain, doing an acoustic rendition of Fix You by Coldplay. You caught yourself humming along unconsciously, straying away from Steven to drop a five dollar bill in the hat placed by the man’s feet. He nodded at you as he continued singing, not minding the raindrops collecting on the surface of his guitar. Steven walked up behind you as you turned around to see if you’d lost him.

His eyes searched your face before he spoke, as if he was absorbing everything he was seeing. You noticed that he did that a lot. Pausing before he spoke and just observing. The rain was starting to come down a little more rapidly, though not enough to soak through your clothing. Little droplets started collecting on the crown of Steven’s head as he stood with you, the noise of the city fading into the background.

“Didn’t know you were a Coldplay fan.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you said, before you caught yourself and changed your tone. “I mean, we haven’t exactly had the opportunity to talk about stuff outside politics and our job.”

“In that case,” he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and leading you back in the direction you needed to be going in. “I swear not to bring up politics or our job during dinner. As long as you agree to the terms too.”

You felt your face heat up at his proximity, unwilling to look him the eye as you nodded. Steven didn’t seem to mind your sudden silence, content to walk in the rain with his arm around you.

“Are you going to move your arm?” You asked quietly.

“No, our reservation is in fifteen minutes and I can’t have you running off without me again,” he said, not leaving room for argument. He looked down at you and smiled. “Why? Are you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you blurted, a little too quickly and a little too loudly. “I was just surprised.”

“You walk on eggshells around me still, you know. I just want you to view me on the same level as you. We’re both just people.”

“Well, easy for you to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve had a remarkable, decade-long career as one of the most well known journalists of this century. My senile grandmother could probably pick you out in a crowd,” you said, forgoing mentioning the fact you also thought he was unfairly gorgeous and that made you extremely nervous.

“So?”

“So?! I don’t know, it’s intimidating!”

“Y/N, I really don’t want you to think that I’m better than you because of the opportunities I’ve had. I’m also much older than you, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Only by ten years.”

“Ten years is quite a bit of time. Anyways, it’s probably no secret to you what my family does. I was born into wealth, connections, et cetera. I knew journalists and got to learn directly with them. You, on the other hand, probably went through years of schooling and self research. For that, I think you’re just as remarkable,” he said.

“I haven’t done much,” you said, rubbing at your elbow and turning your gaze to the sidewalk.

“On the contrary, you’ve done a lot. Just this last week, for example. You were the one who knew to post that specific clip to twitter and you were the one who edited the story. You single handedly ensured our success, and I refuse to hear otherwise.”

“But-“

“Ah! I won’t have it,” he cut you off, looking at you with a faked sternness. “I’m sure you’ve done much more too. You’re obviously very clever.”

“I don’t know about all that-“

“One more self deprecating word out of you, and I’ll make you pay for dessert. Be warned, this place is very expensive.”

“If it’s so expensive why are we going?” You asked, stopping in your tracks.

“Because it's a celebration and I’m paying?” He said, tilting his head and looking at you like you’d asked the most ridiculous question he’d ever heard.

“You’re what!”

“Y/N, love. If someone asks you to go somewhere, they have to pay. Anything else is impolite. Come on, even if you make me cancel the reservation, they’ll have me pay them $100.”

“What kind of place is this?” You gaped, looking over at Steven as he pulled you forward.

“A place that makes great spaghetti.”

“Am I even dressed appropriately for this place?” You asked, more to yourself than to him. You looked down at the outfit you’d worn to work today: skinny jeans, a plain white blouse, and a saffron colored blazer. It would be a little fancy for most of your regular haunts (IHOP, McDonalds, or Shake Shack), but you wouldn’t stand out too much. At Steven’s expensive restaurant, though? You would probably stick out like a sore thumb.

“You look beautiful as always, don’t worry about it,” Steven said, gently rubbing your shoulder. “Oh, look. This is the restaurant.”

You tried hard not to react to what he said, but your heart rate definitely sped up and you felt a lot warmer. Steven, thankfully, was too busy getting the two of you checked in and seated at the restaurant to notice how you’d malfunctioned at his casual compliment. It was stupid, a throwaway line to make you shut up. But it filled you up with metaphorical butterflies anyways.

When the waiter handed you your menus, Steven finally looked at you and asked if you were okay. You quickly nodded and lied about needing to go wash your hands, hoping he didn’t see right through your ruse. You took a few minutes to calm yourself down in the bathroom before you went back out.

“Welcome back,” Steven said as you slid into the booth. “I ordered you some water. I didn’t know what kind of wine you’d want.”

“I don’t really have a taste for wine. Had a few bad experiences getting wine drunk,” you said, opening up your menu to scan through the options.

“Oh? You’re going to have to tell me that story. Also, I already know what the cheapest thing on this menu is, and if you order it, I’m going to ignore you and order something twice as expensive. So choose wisely.”

“Can you read minds?” You asked, dropping the menu in surprise.

“Your concern about burdening others is a part of you that I have come to understand, yes,” he said, not lifting his gaze from his own menu. “Do you like seafood? I think you’d like their shrimp and lobster spaghetti.”

“You know this place better than I do, so I’ll let you order.”

“Great,” Steven said with a beaming smile, waving down a waiter and ordering two plates of the house special spaghetti. When the waiter disappeared into the back, Steven turned his attention to you. “So, Coldplay?”

“Please, everyone likes Coldplay.”

“You struck me as more of a millennial hipster type. Like, you listen to bands no one’s heard of and you take pride in that. The lower their listener count on Spotify is, the better.”

“What! That’s such a specific assumption!”

“Tell me it’s not true then. Tell me you don’t do that,” he said, pressing his lips together to hold back a smirk.

“Well, I guess,” you said begrudgingly, unable to keep yourself from smiling at his amusement. “But I listen to lots of stuff! You strike me as an oldies lover. Like a ‘I was born in the wrong decade’ type of guy.”

“Harsh, but accurate,” he chuckled.

“What can I say, I’m observant,” you said, purposely flipping your hair and patting yourself on the back to make Steven laugh even harder.

When the waiter returned with your orders, a comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you focused on the food. You’d mentioned briefly to him that what he ordered you was amazing before continuing to shovel the spaghetti down (in a sort of ladylike fashion, this was still a nice place). The rest of the evening was the two of you exchanging surface level facts about each other. Your favorite movies, musicians, places to go, museums in D.C.. It was all stuff you’d probably find if you scoured the internet and read every interview he ever gave, but it was nice to just treat him like a regular coworker, and he clearly preferred that you thought of him that way.

“Who’s your inspiration? Like for work?”

“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to talk about work,” he said, a teasing smile on the corners of his lips. “But Walter Cronkite.”

“Typical.”

“What? He was the most trustworthy man in America. I’d like to be on that level, you know? To be someone that people would look at and say ‘that person is telling the truth’. It’s a big honor.”

“That’s fair. You’re right. It’s a popular response, but it’s a good one.”

“Who’s yours, then?” He asked.

“There was a woman who did our local news, Tiffany Day. She was amazing. I wanted to be like her so bad when I was growing up. She seemed so confident and powerful on television, like she couldn’t be lied to.”

“I think you’ll get there. You’re already amazing and a great journalist. Biggest pet peeve?”

“Hopefully. And liars. I hate being lied to more than anything else.”

“You seem to have a preoccupation with that. Lies.”

“It’s part of my tragic backstory, you’ll have to reach level fifteen friendship to unlock that,” you said, deflecting the unspoken question. That story was not one you were interested in rehashing with Steven.

“What level am I at now?” He asked, amused with your challenge.

“Two. Three, because you bought me food.”

“How do I level up?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Well, I’ll add that to my personal goals for this year. Unlock Y/N’s tragic backstory. Just a warning, though, Miss Y/N. I usually achieve all my goals.”

You blinked at him, but he had already moved on to getting the waiter to bring him the check. You didn’t really know how to react to Steven’s promise to you, but you were a little worried. Would he really express all this interest in you after he did unlock your “tragic backstory”? You’d only had his attention for a short amount of time, but you found yourself blooming under it. You liked the way he made you feel important and the way he spoke to you.

You liked him, period.

You could only hope he’d still like you after uncovering just how much of a pathetic wreck you were on the inside. Once he’d found the irreparable neuroticism and negative energy that you tried to keep bottled up. You couldn’t say for certain, but you really hoped he’d stay.

You and Steven had been working together for a few months, and this had never happened before.

You should have expected that a mix up was bound to occur, or that your cheapskate editor would decide to cut corners on production costs, or even that hotel space would be limited somewhere eventually. But you were surprised anyways when you and Steven were asked to share a room in Anaheim. Luckily, there were two beds, but it was still awkward to be sharing a room with your hot coworker for a week. What if he ran into you while he was naked? Or worse, what if he ran into YOU naked?

You shivered at the thought as you set your luggage on the ground near the window, Steven following behind. You looked over at him while he was taking his shoes off, briefly wondering if this is what a bride would feel like on her wedding night.

‘Where the hell did that thought come from?’ You asked yourself.

“Sorry about the mix up, guess you’re going to have to deal with little old me as your roommate,” he said as he stripped off his blazer and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “I should probably warn you that I’m a little messy and I go to bed pretty late.”

“I don’t mind messes, so as long as you keep it on your side of the room,” you said with a wry smile. “I tend to play my music out loud while I’m getting ready in the mornings, but I can use headphones this week. It’s not a problem.”

“No, you don’t have to use headphones. I’d love to hear what you have on your playlists,” he said, giving you a quick grin as he began unpacking his sweatpants and toiletries. “I think we’ll be okay as roommates.”

He was wrong, however, because you were definitely not okay.

You should have established a rule about a minimum amount of clothing you were allowed to wear within the room, because Steven’s habit of walking around shirtless was driving you insane. It was taking every ounce of willpower in your body to not stare. What the hell was he so ripped for? Where did he even find the time to work out?

Meanwhile Steven’s eye candy for the week was you in no makeup and fuzzy fleece pajama pants. At first, you tried to avoid taking off your makeup while he was still awake. But you soon realized that he wasn’t lying when he said he went to bed late. You waited until 2 am on the first night before giving up and going about your skincare routine. He didn’t look twice at you, so you guessed that was semi positive. At least you weren’t double take levels of ugly.

You slammed your face into the pillow and tried not to groan out loud at the looped thought of him ditching his bed for yours, since he was right across from you reading an Agatha Christie novel. Ugh, of course he reads. As if he wasn’t perfect enough.

“Are you okay?” Steven asked.

“Great,” you lied. “It’s just a little cold in here.”

“Do you want my comforter? I kick it down to the edge of the bed anyways.”

You accepted the offered blanket, even though you didn’t need it.

On the third day, Steven accidentally walked into the bathroom right after you finished taking a shower. Thankfully, you had a towel wrapped around you, but you were startled nonetheless, nearly tripping out of surprise. He grabbed onto your arm and waist instinctually to steady you, but quickly let go of as if he’d been burned.

“Um, sorry,” he blurted before walking right back out, a blush high on his cheeks.

That was strange, you’d thought. He’d never blushed in front of you before. It was kind of adorable. Obviously you thought of Steven as handsome and attractive, and in the deep recesses of your mind, you agreed with his position as a sex symbol. But you’d never seen him as cute before. He was always much too polished. It was sort of nice to see him at a loss like that.

When you’d stepped out of the shower, he’d disappeared entirely, with only a note saying he left to go get some tea and to text him if you wanted anything. You smirked to yourself and briefly considered wearing shorts and a tank top to bed just to see how he’d react, before banishing the idea from your mind. That would be much too obvious and you didn’t want to just throw yourself at him, even though you were very tempted to. It would make your professional relationship awkward, and you liked the dynamic you had already.

Instead, you texted him to ask for popcorn so you could have a movie night and watch a horror film together. He returned with a bag full of that healthy popcorn you hate for being tasteless for himself, and a bag full of Chicago mix popcorn for you. You gasped and thanked him when he tossed it at you before he climbed into his own bed.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Uh, waiting for you to start the movie?”

“You’re really going to watch it all the way over there?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steven rolled his eyes and groaned as if you were greatly inconveniencing him, but got into your bed anyways. Mission Get Steven’s Attention: Accomplished. Now you could enjoy the movie with his body heat pressed up against your side, and maybe pretend to be scared halfway through so you could cling onto him.

Though it turned out that plan was unnecessary, because Steven turned out to be terrible with gore. He had his face buried into the crook of your neck, peeking out every now and again to see if the coast was clear. It was interesting, because you were sure Steven had seen much more graphic things at CNN, and those were worse because they were real. You mentioned as much to him, and he told you that was the problem. These scenes reminded him of the very real, very terrible things he had seen in his line of work. You turned the TV off and stroked a hand through his curls comfortingly.

“Why did you agree to this?” You asked softly, leaving the ‘if you knew this was going to happen’ unspoken.

“I thought that it had been long enough,” he said, pulling away from your shoulder. He tried to hide it, but his eyes were a little puffy and red from the tears he was trying to hold back. “That those scenes wouldn’t be vivid in my mind after all this time.”

“It’s only been a few months,” you whispered, turning to face him better. He blinked at you as you reached over to wipe the tears that had managed to slip past his control. “I wish you would have said something, the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable or bring up bad memories. I would never do that to you. You’re one of my favorite people.”

Instead of replying, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close. A comfortable quietness enveloped the two of you, only the sound of his slightly uneven breathing and his heartbeat kept the room from being completely silent.

“Thank you.”

“No. Thank you,” you said. “For being vulnerable with me.”

Part 2

thank you for reading ♡ you can find my masterlist here

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #steven grant fanfic #moon knight smut #marc spector fanfic #oscar isaac #steven grant imagine #marc spector imagine #moon knight #moon knight fanfic

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kindahoping4forever · 3 years

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Threw Out Our Cloaks & Daggers Because It's Morning Now // Ashton Irwin

The bulk of this fic was a WIP I'd been sitting on for months because while I loved the idea, it just never felt Right. I've also been working on a particular arc for Gardener!Ash for most of this year but had been struggling to figure out how to get there. During the impromptu hiatus from writing I took this month, I realized this idea could add the type of color and depth to the Gardener!Ash series that I'd been needing to set up my arc and everything fell into place from there! As always, @cal-puddies is my hero and MVP.

Warnings: Moderate angst comes to the land of Domestic Thirst. No spoilers but obviously there's some sort of resolution because there's also dirty talk, unprotected sex in an established relationship, a handful of uses of the word 'Daddy', brief oral sex performed on a male and cum play.

Word Count: 5755

Gardener!Ash Masterlist

Masterlist // Ko-Fi and 2021 Taglist linked above

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

You were only gone for one night but you can't believe how good it feels to sleep in your own bed again, to feel the warmth of your boyfriend next to you. Morning comes and you roll over to see him still sleeping soundly at your side and a rush of emotions overwhelm you. Things have been so crazy recently, you can’t remember the last time you had the privilege of waking him up. You’ll never take it for granted again.

You gingerly trace over the condor on the back of his neck, rubbing your thumb over the nail imprints you left around the wings, when you feel him start to stir. “Morning, baby,” he croaks, voice heavy with sleep, worn from staying up and talking things through with you.

“Hiya,” you answer sweetly, brushing his hair off his face. “Sleep alright?”

“Better than I did without you beside me," he admits, leaning into your touch. "Let's not do that again, k?"

2 Days Earlier...

“Missed you this morning.”

Your smile wavers a bit as a sense of deja vu hits you and you realize just how often you’ve been greeting your boyfriend with that phrase but you make an effort to recover as he approaches the patio, tossing his gardening gloves on the table as he opens his arms to you.

Ashton presses a kiss to your lips before replying, “Keep tellin’ ya, gotta get up with me one of these days and try some yoga up on the roof. Nothin’ like it, starting the morning off feeling grateful and appreciating all the natural beauty the morning sun has to offer.”

“Well, I’m sure the sun is lovely but I miss appreciating the natural beauty of the full moon I used to see when you’d stay in bed with me until my alarm went off,” you smirk, grabbing a handful of his ass.

He giggles but you detect a hint of sadness in his eyes just before he pulls you into an embrace. “Might be able to arrange one of those for you sometime too,” he jokes.

You burrow silently into his chest and he pecks at your forehead before removing his straw gardening hat and plopping it on your head as he ducks inside the house with a cackle.

You lovingly shake your head at his antics as you walk to the edge of the patio, looking out to see what he’s been working on. Typically the thought of Ash toiling away in his garden would make your heart skip a beat but he’s been spending a lot of time out here in recent weeks. By the time you wake up in the mornings, he’s already out starting a new project and he’s almost always still out there when you’ve finished with your work for the day. With the band coming out of their hiatus and taking up more of his time, you know it’s important for him to have something that’s just his that he can unwind with but you miss him all the same, miss the days when you alone could be that distraction for him.

Ashton reemerges from the house, glass of ice water in hand, and sits in the lounge chair by the door.

You walk over, interested. “You done for the day, handsome? I was thinking about going for a walk if you’d like to join me.”

“Aww, that sounds nice, baby, but I’ve actually got to jump on a management call with the guys in a few,” he explains, downing his water in one long gulp. “Why don’t we have a nice dinner together, though? Let’s order something good and catch up.”

You murmur your agreement and kiss his cheek before returning his hat to his head. Your walk is a bit longer than you intended but it felt nice to relax your mind and stretch your legs after a long day of being inside working. The sky is nearing dusk by the time you get home and you’re surprised to return to a dark house. You check Ash’s usual haunts - the garden, the basement studio, the kitchen - before you eventually find him in the bedroom, face down asleep on the bed with all the lights off.

You smile wistfully at the sight. He’s been running himself ragged between the band, helping friends with their projects and working on his own. This isn’t the first time you’ve found him like this, his mind reasoning he’ll just “rest his eyes” for a few minutes only for his body to insist that he nap for much longer. You sigh, kick off your shoes and curl up beside him. It’s not exactly the reconnecting evening you were hoping for but at this point, any time spent next to Ashton is a gift you’re more than happy to receive.

The next thing you know, your face is being peppered with kisses and a gentle but firm touch is shaking your arm.

“Baby?” He says softly, smiling sheepishly at you as your eyes flutter open. “You could’ve woken me up, love, I didn’t mean to knock out like that.”

You hum, leaning into him, eyes adjusting to the bedside light he turned on. “If you need it, you need it, dude… it’s not like I see you sleep much these days anyways,” you point out, stroking his stubbly cheek. He'd recently decided to shave his beard and let it regrow and you always forget how much younger he looks without it. “Been meaning to talk to you about that, honestly.”

“Yeah… my head’s kind of all over the place right now so sleep has been… fitful, I guess,” he admits, eyes failing to meet yours. He doesn’t offer more of an explanation and you can tell right now isn’t the time to press the issue. “Sorry I fucked up our dinner.”

You shrug. “No big. Too late to just order a pizza?”

He smiles warmly at you, relieved at your understanding. “Think that one we like on Ventura should still be open.”

“Let’s do that please,” you say with a yawn, which he attempts to muffle with a sweet peck to your lips before reaching for his phone on the nightstand. You watch him place your order and wrap your arms around as much of him as you can reach when he’s done. You quietly offer, “You know if you ever wanna talk about anything that’s going on, I’m here. Doesn’t matter what time of night.”

You feel Ashton relax into your embrace, giving a long and cleansing exhale. “I know, baby… love you,” he breathes. You’re surprised but happy to have him stay resting in your arms until the doorbell rings to announce your dinner.

On a whim, you go back into the bedroom with the pizza and eating in bed proves to be the right choice; the two of you make easy and light conversation as you eat, sitting cross-legged next to each other, smiling like goofy teenagers everytime your bare knees touch.

You’re pretty sure he sleeps through the night for once and you notice him lying closer to you than usual. He typically keeps to his side of the bed but tonight he alternates wrapping himself around you with sleeping on his side right next to you, a hand on your stomach or thigh if he can reach. You find it curious but sweet and enjoy it for what it is.

You can’t help but feel a little disappointed when you wake up alone again; the morning air feels extra cold after being surrounded by Ashton’s warmth all night. You peek out the window and sure enough, he’s already in the garden. You shrug because what else can you do and you head off to start getting ready for your day.

You don’t see him again until after your work day is over and you pad into the kitchen to rinse out the mug you’ve been using all day. You weren’t even sure he was home at first, the house is so quiet and he almost always has music playing in the background. Your heart leaps when you see him showered and out of his gardening clothes, sitting with his computer at the kitchen island but your excitement quickly fades when you notice how stressed he looks as his fingers fly across the keyboard, an email reply on one side of the screen, some sort of calendar on the other.

You chew your lip, torn between wanting to ask him what’s wrong and wanting to wait for him to come to you about it. The problem is you feel like you’ve been waiting for that moment for weeks now and it’s becoming clear Ash either doesn’t want your help or doesn’t know how to ask for it. You’ve both always been careful not to overstep in each other’s personal business; you love the idea that you’re partners but ultimately two separate people living independent lives that you choose to share with each other. With Ashton not having toured for so long now, your lives have blurred together in ways they never really had before and you’re starting to realize it’s not so easy to just go back to the way things used to be.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts you don’t notice that he’s stood at the sink next to you until he reaches over and sets his own mug under the tap.

“The invite said ‘cocktail casual’ but I think maybe you’ve taken the idea a little too literally,” he cracks, eyeing the band hoodie and sweatpants you’re sporting. You purse your lips at him as you try to understand the joke, unsure if you’re confused because you weren’t paying attention just now or if you’re missing something else. Another beat passes without your response, so he addresses you again, still playful but with a slight edge to his voice this time. “Seriously, love, if you’re gonna shower, we need you in there ASAP, Cal’s gonna be here in like 40 minutes and we both know it’s gonna take you at least that to get dressed.”

You furrow your brow, now entirely confident your boyfriend has wildly different plans for your evening than you expected. You turn to him with narrow eyes and say, “Babe, I mean this with all the love in my heart but I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Ash gives you a 'yeah right' smirk and when you continue to stare at him blankly, a mixture of alarm and annoyance washes over his face. "The dinner party we're going to?" Your expression remains unchanged. He presses on, "The people from the new label?"

You shrug apologetically, "I know nothing about this."

"We one hundred percent talked about it."

"When?"

"Recently," he insists, jaw tensing more with every syllable.

You shake your head emphatically. "It's OK if you forgot to tell me, Ash."

He scoffs, running his hand over his face like he always does when he's getting agitated. "Well it's OK if you forgot that I told you."

You roll your eyes. "Like I don't have a distinct memory of every conversation we've had the past few weeks, they happen so infrequently," you mutter.

Your eyes dart up to meet his as soon as the words leave your mouth, much more bitter than you imagined they'd sound. His expression changes rapidly, shuffling through surprise, hurt, anger, confusion and finally landing on incredulous exasperation. "And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

You wince at his tone, the sharp one you’re used to him using with invasive journalists or the occasional tense moment with a bandmate, one he’s only directed at you a handful of times over the course of your relationship. The two of you love talking with each other so when an issue arises, it’s only natural that you discuss it rather than squabble. Arguments are rare but when they do happen… boy, do they.

The frustration that’s been brewing between you finally spills over into petty bickering which inevitably leads to some regrettably mean barbs and before you know it, you’re storming out the door, smart enough to get away before you say something you can’t take back. You’re proud that you make it down the street before the first tear spills down your cheek, that you manage to make it to your best friend’s house without pulling over to call and apologize.

Ashton is as stubborn as you are so you’re not surprised when you don’t hear from him that evening. As you lay on your friend’s couch, trying to remember how to sleep without Ash’s body acting as a space heater next to you, you replay the day’s events in your mind. Something like this was bound to happen sometime, the way you’d both been carrying on like your circumstances hadn’t changed was naive and unsustainable. But now that you’re hours removed from it, you’re not even sure how the fight started or what it was really about anymore. You’re just sure that you miss him and not just being beside you tonight, you miss the way he was, the way you were a few months ago before real life started creeping in again.

You’re not angry, just frustrated and more than a little sad. As your body finally gives into the exhaustion and you drift off to sleep, your pride chimes in and you decide to wait him out, let him apologize first, let him make an effort to give you the attention you’ve been craving. But when you wake up a few hours later with no cheerful whistling coming from the shower, no coffee smells coming from the kitchen, no scratchy stubble on your face and neck, coaxing you out of bed, it only takes a few moments for your resolve to crack. You look around the unfamiliar, empty room and become suddenly, painfully aware that this isn’t where you belong, even temporarily.

You get dressed and hide your phone in a drawer because you know if you don’t, you’ll be obsessively checking it every two minutes to see if he’s messaged you. You set up your laptop and try to power through your work for the day. You allow yourself a peek at lunchtime and you feel your entire body immediately warm when you see his name in your notifications. You click on the text and smile at the sight of a single bouquet emoji, his go-to when he’s testing the waters for an apology, an olive branch of sorts. You text him back a simple heart and hide your phone away again, eager to finish up your work so you can get home and apologize properly.

This Morning...

“Well, I can’t promise no more fighting but I can predict that’s the last time I storm out like that… that was the first night I’ve slept alone since I moved in… can’t say that I missed it,” you smile wistfully, fingers scratching at his scruffy cheek.

“Yeah… when I came home to the empty house and it started to sink in that you probably weren’t coming home… I can’t remember the last time I felt so unsettled,” Ashton recalls somberly, grabbing your hand to kiss before interlacing his fingers with yours.

The pangs of guilt and regret you feel match the hints you detect swimming in his eyes as he softly gazes at you. You lean in to him and as your lips slowly move against each other, you feel the mood of the room lighten. You smile and coo, "Tell you what, though, if you want to pretend-fight every now and again for the sake of making up, I'm down for that."

He grins, running a hand up and down your side. "For a couple who doesn’t fight often, we are remarkably good at that part, aren’t we?"

"Mmm… I’ll say. You really forgave the shit outta me, babe.”

Ash has always been better with words than you are but you’ve learned that the ways you express yourselves after the apologies are just as important as the sorries themselves. And as you admire the red scratches up and down his back, the way his light brown curls, still wild and tangled from your fingers, pour onto his pillow to reveal the subtle bite marks decorating his neck… you conclude you definitely got your point across.

He laughs, sliding his hand under the hem of your t-shirt, letting his fingers trace over your bare skin before bringing you closer. “Took my apology so well… so generous,” he teases suggestively, the kiss he pulls you into noticeably more passionate than the last. “Y’know, now that I’ve had time to sleep on it, think there’s a couple more things I’m feeling sorry about.”

“Glad to hear you say that because I've suddenly got the strongest urge to hold you accountable,” you smirk, reaching down to squeeze the bulge that’s been noticeably growing in his boxers.

Ash chuckles naughtily against your lips as the two of you share another heated kiss. You let out a slight squeal as he easily swings your leg over his body and pulls you to lay on top of him. His kisses are hungry but his hands are slow and unhurried as they move over your body, from running through your hair to dipping under your shirt, dancing over your back before settling on your ass, squeezing and massaging your cheeks over your panties.

“Missed you,” he says quietly against your lips and you smile into the kiss, knowing he’s referring to more than just the night you spent away.

You lean over and tongue around his earring before attaching your lips to the spot just underneath his ear that always makes him moan, sucking what’s bound to be a large mark on his skin. “All mine,” you softly declare, rolling your hips over his, relishing the feeling of his hardness underneath you.

He groans at your words, sliding his fingers under the leg of your underwear to run along your folds. “All yours?” He teases, swirling your wetness around, ghosting over your clit. “Think you’re mine, baby. Who’s all this for? Huh? Got you soaking wet first thing in the morning?” He teases a finger against your entrance but never quite pushes in.

“Y- you, Ash,” you murmur, trying your best to move your hips at the right angle that’ll catch you some friction from his fingers but to no avail.

“Goddamn right, baby,” he growls, rewarding you by rubbing a few slow circles around your clit. “Pussy’s all mine. Missed it while you were gone.” He sinks a finger inside you, then a second one. He maintains eye contact as he rocks you slowly against them until he decides you’re done. As soon as he withdraws them, you grab his wrist and lift his fingers to your mouth, sucking them clean.

Without missing a beat, Ashton brings you back up to his lips, moaning as he tastes your essence on your own tongue. You pull back, resting your forehead on his, panting, “And what about this?” You pull his cock out of his boxers, stroking slowly as you lilt, “Missed this thick cock while I was gone… missed me so much, last night wasn’t enough... already so hard, leaking so much.” You thumb over his slit, dabbing at the precum beading there and you both watch as a long, sticky string of it follows nearly all the way to your mouth when you lift your finger to taste.

“Fuck, baby… need you now,” he groans with a newfound urgency. He pulls your panties to the side and groans again, deeper, when you immediately start grinding down, rubbing your wetness over his shaft. “Baby, please. Wanna see you ride this cock… ‘s what it was made for. Just for you and your perfect little pussy to take.”

You lean in to give him a filthy kiss that’s all tongue while you sink down on him, the both of you whining at the feeling of your wet heat engulfing him.

“Oh my god, Ash,” you breathe, moving your hips methodically, letting every inch of his cock drag torturously slow against your walls. “Always so good inside me… I’ll never get enough.” You lean back, bracing yourself on his strong thighs, moaning as you feel them flex underneath you as he struggles not to buck up into you.

Ashton lets out another deep groan and you bite your lip, knowing it means he’s caught up watching his cock disappear inside you over and over again; you know it’s his favorite part of having you ride him. “Never get tired of watching you take this cock, baby,” he huffs, confirming your suspicion. He runs his palms over your thighs, fighting the urge to grab onto your hips because he wants you to feel confident in your control. “Such a good girl, taking every last bit of it… look so pretty doing it. Bet it feels as good as it looks, doesn’t it, baby?”

A whimpered reply is the best you can offer as his hand travels to thumb at your clit. You start moving your hips more rapidly, trying to take advantage of the sensations he’s giving you but it’s not enough. You shift forward, flattening your palms against his broad chest, using it for leverage as you rock yourself at a moderate pace, gasping sharply as you immediately feel how the new angle changes how he’s hitting inside you.

“Ash… fuck, babe,” you whine, voice shaking as you speed up even more. “Never felt like this until you… filled so fucking good… never gonna want anything else. Just need you.”

He murmurs your name softly as he slips his hands up your t-shirt to cup your breasts, kneading them, his large hands using just the right amount of pressure to make you moan. He quickly decides he needs to hear more and tugs at the fabric; you understand he wants you to remove it and as soon as you peel the shirt off, his mouth is all over you.

He leaves wet kisses all over one tit while his hand massages the other and then he switches, never leaving you feeling anything less than spoiled. The scruff on his face is already causing a delicious burn on your skin so when he gently grazes your nipple with his teeth, the painful pleasure is almost too much for you to handle and you cry out before redirecting his attention by nudging his face so you can catch his lips in a needy kiss.

You pull away, rubbing over the light hair on his chest. His fingers are content to play with your nipples while you resume bouncing on his cock, settling into a rhythm that has you both breathing heavy.

You feel your climax building and breathe his name over and over like a prayer, almost as if you can’t believe you made it home and he’s here with you, giving you this pleasure. Ash picks up on your energy and shifts his hands to your waist, letting his touch reassure you. “I’m here, baby, come on,” he soothes, giving your hips a tight squeeze. “I’ve got you, love... wanna feel you cum.”

You feel like a woman possessed, pawing at your own breasts, riding his cock as fast as you can, wishing you could go faster but it feels so good you’re almost too overwhelmed to keep moving. “Fuck… Ash… fuuuuck… fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you plead breathlessly. You whimper again and again, feeling your release so close and yet nowhere near close enough. “Need to cum… need you… please… oh Daddy, please.”

You and Ash hadn’t been together very long when you first let a ‘Daddy’ slip in bed. You had no idea where it came from, you’d never called anyone that and it wasn’t a kink either of you had discussed any interest in. But you were already so comfortable with him that you never felt embarrassed about it, you both just giggled and went with it and he gently teased you about it in the following days. You decided to own it, dropping it occasionally as a half-sexy, half-ironic inside joke between you until one day the two of you realized just how serious it’d actually become, how much it seemed to affect you both on a primal level. Your use of the word evolved, like things always do when you’re with someone for a long time; it went from a bonding joke to a naughty cue to something reserved for special occasions and these days, it seems to only slip out subconsciously during your neediest, most desperate moments.

You’re so far gone the words you’ve just said don’t even register in your mind until you hear the guttural noise coming from Ashton’s throat and you feel his hold on your hips tighten to an almost painful degree. Your eyes flicker open to meet his and the excitement and love you see, the eagerness to return to that era of shared intimacy with you, is almost enough to push you over the edge.

“What was that, baby?” He teases, holding your hips still so he can buck his into you at a deviously slow pace. “Didn’t hear you… think you might need to say it a little louder.”

You try matching his rhythm as he rocks into you but his grip is so tight it’s no use, but you do keep trying because you like the struggle and he likes denying you. You lock eyes and stare him down for as long as you can, almost as if you’re challenging him, until he hits that one spot inside you that forces you to close your eyes and shudder. “I said…” You start, trying to find your breath as he moves his hips to match the staccato rhythm of your words. “Fuck me. Please. Need you. To make me cum. To fuck me. Daddy.” Your voice gets louder with every word and by the end of your request, you’re practically shrieking.

“That’s my girl,” Ash says in a voice both syrupy and dominating. “My baby wants to cum, my baby’s gonna cum. Give this pretty pussy what it deserves.” He gives your body an affectionate squeeze before he plants his feet flat on the bed for leverage and begins fucking up into you with impressive force.

You want to cry out, to call his name, to tell him how glad you are to be his, how you always want to be, how every time with him is better than the last and as exciting as the first. But you’re so fucking close and his cock is hitting so deep inside you, you barely have the brainpower to keep holding onto him the way that you are.

The only sounds filling the room are Ashton’s belabored grunts, your strained whines and the sound of his skin slapping against yours. A low, rumbly moan stirs in your throat and you both know this is it. He’s careful to keep his thrusts steady as you start to fold in on yourself, tensing from the sensations surging through your body. He feels you clench around him hard, your breath coming out in short, huffy sobs that seem to keep perfect time with the feeling of your pussy pulsing on his cock.

You’re seeing stars by the time you fall forward against him, arms made of jelly. Before he even has time to check on you, you push up on his chest, balancing yourself upright again. He gives you a half-concerned, half-amused look and you answer his unspoken question, “I’ve got one more apology to make.” He shakes his head, smiling and gestures for you to take the lead again.

You bounce on him, knowing he loves to watch the way your tits sway when you ride him like this. “Tell me when,” you direct, speeding up your pace. You’re nowhere near the speed he was moving at but it still only takes a couple minutes of work to get Ash groaning and grabbing at your ass.

"Love you like this, baby," he mumbles, kneading your cheeks as you move on him. He lets you get a few more pumps in before his fingers are digging into you and he’s growling, “So fucking beautiful… squeezing me so fuckin' tight, baby… ‘s all I can take, got me too fuckin’ close.”

The urgency in his voice springs you into action and you climb off and swiftly take him in your mouth. Ash moans loudly as you quickly bob your head up and down, not wanting to lose momentum. You flutter your tongue along the underside of his cock, murmuring as you taste your own release on his skin. You pull up, letting your hand continue to work him and you let the spit pour down your chin as you look at him and rasp, “Gonna let me have it all, Daddy? Promise I’ll be good and take every drop.”

Ashton props himself up on his elbows, stroking through your hair before his loving but firm hand starts coaxing you back down; his hazel eyes are clouded with lust as he meets your gaze and breathes, “Don’t swallow.”

A thrill runs through you and you share a mischievous look with him as you lower your mouth on him. His hand stays in your hair, applying light pressure as you sink down as far as you can before you start gagging; he pulls you back and guides you to bob more shallowly and seconds later, with a loud shout of your name, he’s cumming.

You focus on the sounds of his grunting and groaning as the hot liquid shoots across your tongue; you close your eyes, trying your hardest to follow his direction and fight your instinct to swallow. You pull back so you’re suckling at the head and you feel his grip on your hair start to slack as he takes his other hand and gives himself a few light strokes, milking out every last drop for you.

With an exhausted sigh, Ashton gently tugs your head back and instructs, “Show me.” You eagerly open your mouth, wiggling your tongue around, enough to let him see his release swirling around but careful not to let any of it spill from your lips. The satisfied look on his face has you feeling like you might cum again on the spot. “Good girl,” he smirks proudly. “Now make it disappear for me.”

A sly smile of your own spreads across your face as you let some - but not all - of the substance slide down your throat before leaning in to kiss him, murmuring as he takes the hint and deepens it, dipping his tongue in your mouth for a taste. You take it a step further, using your tongue to push the remaining cum inside his mouth, a chill running down your spine as he moans against your lips.

He tugs your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling away, giving you an amused look. You shrug playfully, explaining, “You just said ‘make it disappear,’ you didn’t specify how.”

He chuckles and pulls you closer for the slow, reassuring kiss he typically lays on you after a kinky, more intense session like you just had. You smile softly at each other and when the moment is over, he gently grabs your hand and leads you to the bathroom for a quick cleanup.

You return to the bedroom a few moments later and Ash resituates the bed while you slip on a new shirt and underwear. You crawl back under the covers together and he promptly lays you on his chest, hand once again sneaking up the back of your tee, craving as much skin on skin contact as he can get.

“You sure about not wanting to fight ever again? Don’t wanna miss out on fun like that,” you joke, heart swelling at the ridiculous cackle that rattles through your boyfriend’s chest.

“Maybe we pick smaller, lower stakes things to fight about,” he muses, kissing your forehead. “What movie to watch, who has to load the dishwasher. No more serious shit.”

You cock your head at him amusedly. “Maybe… it is nice knowing the ‘Daddy’ card still works, though.” He pokes at you and you let out a squeal which he silences with another sweet kiss.

There’s a beat and then Ashton sighs, “I am sorry, baby. I wish I hadn’t said --- “

“Hey. No, Ash, we promised we weren’t gonna do that,” you cut him off, lifting your head to look at him. “That’s the past now. Who did what, what was said… ‘s not important. This is. This is all that matters.” You press a kiss to his shoulder, lightly pecking across his collarbones until you hear him give a deep exhale, letting go of whatever guilt he was still holding onto.

You settle back on him and he strokes his fingers through your hair, humming softly before thinking out loud, “I think I’d like us to try and set aside some time to spend together each week, no matter what we have going on. Obviously when it comes time to tour again, it’ll have to be virtual but… I just… I wouldn’t say we’ve started to take each other for granted… I just think maybe living together has gotten us used to how much we need each other and so now that we finally have other things that need our attention ---”

“When that need goes unfulfilled, disaster strikes,” you muse.

“Exactly.”

You gaze up at him fondly. “I think that’s a great idea, Ash.”

“Good,” he says, satisfied, before following up in a much softer voice. “I just don’t ever want to feel that disconnected from you again. I didn’t like it.”

You pout, squeezing yourself as tightly to him as you can. “Me neither, babe.”

The two of you lay quietly for a few moments. You’ve just started to drift off back to sleep when his voice breaks the silence. “Nap and then breakfast?”

“Mmm,” you approve, hands running across his chest hair. “Pancakes.”

Ashton clicks his tongue. “See, I was thinking breakfast burritos…”

You look up at him, love, mischief and exhaustion in your eyes. “Ooh, are we fighting again?” You suggestively ask, cocking an eyebrow.

He grins, pulling you back into his embrace. “Definitely nap first. We’re gonna need the energy if we’re gonna make up anymore today.” --- @conversecake @cxddlyash @cashtonasfuck @talkfastromance4 @camelliastreet @itjustkindahappenedreally @saywhatnow07 @mymindwide @suchalonelysunflower @pxrxmoore @findingliam-o @fedorable-killjoys @trix-arent-for-kids @olivia-foster-irwin @saphseoul @calmsweetcreature @onthecliffside-mgc @feliznavidaddycal @blacktreacles @maggiesupertramp @karajaynetoday @ashtonangst @sunshineeashton @aladyofalbion @youngblood199456 @xsongbirdx @fairytrice @calumrose @irwindoll @polycashton @in-superbloom @2fangirl4u @highstwildflower @t3lkfast @bport76

#prepare to be sick of me reblogging this because i intended to have this up wayyyy before today's pod so it's gonna get buried lol #5 seconds of summer smut #5sos smut #ashton irwin smut #ashton irwin fic #ashton smut #smut #kh4f fic #Gardener!Ash #kindahoping4forever #It's Morning Now #tbh don't have much else to say about it #things have been tough and for a minute i legit didn't know if i was done writing for good #but it feels nice to be posting again #and i am excited for what's next for this series #and hopefully i'll be able to follow through and bring that together in a timely fashion #health allowing smh #anyways #as always feedback reblogs and all that is encouraging and appreciated

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tempenensis · 3 years

Note

Hello! Thank You for sharing all the JJK resources and writing metas for all of us to read. I want to bounce a theory about the Fushiguro family name: Zenin Toji met Fushiguro Mama, she gave birth and passed shortly after -> met Tsumiki's mom and got married, but he introduced himself as Fushiguro Toji to discard the Zenin name/tribute the only woman he loved -> both Tsumiki and mom took Fushiguro's name since normally the wife took the husband surname in Japan (putting aside special cases) 1/2

2/3 I thought of this after reading your post where Toji corrected Kon Shiu because he just recently changed his name :^D I like where that leads tho of course we won't know until it's officially confirmed. Also about Celestial/Heavenly Restriction, has it been confirmed/theorized whether it's self-inflicted (in exchange for something else) or randomly gotten at birth? If it's random, how cruel(or good?) for Toji to get it since he's from a old sorcerer's family and look where it leads : (

3/3 :^D one last thing, it's great reading your brain vomit tag

Hello there!

However, I find your thought more unlikely and honestly from what I see, most fans assume the same for the longest time, that Fushiguro being Tsumiki’s mom. It’s only recently that I see this kind of thought. Touji himself had said this.

As said in his profile, Kon has known Touji for at least ten years. The next chapter he asks about Megumi, so he knows of Megumi mama and his son. And yet, he still calls him Zen'in, so Touji doesn't take Fushiguro name until recently. So Megumi is most likely born as Zen'in and had his name changed at this point too.

I know you all love and thirst over Touji, but I don’t think Touji is that sentimental of a character, so this kind of romanticism isn't quite fitting with his character. He forgot his own son, for God's sake. Gege also would’ve outright refer her as Fushiguro instead of Megumi mama (see: Touji's profile page).

(regarding theories, I always believe that most of the time, the simplest explanation is the best)

Your second question, like its name, Heavenly restriction is inflicted by the celestial power, so no one who have it is willing (see: Mechamaru’s explanation during his fight vs Panda). Touji didn't want to receive it, but it was fated to be. He kills sorcerers for living, you know, so in a way he is getting his revenge to people he envious of; people who are granted 'blessing' of curse technique. Touji even said that he is a 'monkey' because he was refused the same blessing. He sells Megumi to the Zen'in because his talent will keep him safe and alive in the clan, better than what Megumi will get if Touji hold onto him, unlike Touji who was harassed growing up in the clan.

But in a world where a boy with Six-eyes had born, it seems power (not excluding Touji) gathers is converging to shape their world. So Touji's birth and heavenly restriction is meant to be.

Anyway, thanks for the kind words!

#asks #jjk manga spoilers #fushiguro touji

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obscureoperations · 3 years

Note

#8 for the prompt thingy

Dude... first off, I'm sorry it took so long. I just really didn't know where to go with this prompt. I stuck to the basics, y/n (reader) finding out about his sickness. Self indulgent angst ensues.

For the longest, you had convinced yourself that it wasn’t him. There was no possible way he could be The Count. You had been tuning into that old radio station for years, Monday through Thursday at nine pm sharp. For the longest, you didn't connect the dots, the stranger’s voice was so much deeper than Martin’s. Though they did share the same odd way of speaking. Cryptic at times--and at others exceedingly blunt. At one point, you had to admit, you had a small crush on the anonymous caller-- you always had a thing for the macabre and bizarre. He explained his crimes in a way that was akin to reading lines from a textbook.

The young man was sick-- that much was clear, but you felt somewhat sympathetic towards his predicament. His thirst for blood was most likely a medical condition. No one in his family cared enough to get him any help. And then there was the loneliness--being othered by everyone around him. Sometimes, you could clearly hear the sorrow in his voice, still mourning the loss of a proper upbringing. You often wondered what he looked like. Was he some scrawny kid living in his parent’s attic? At times, his voice didn’t sound natural.. As though he was intentionally masking his tone.

He became your instant crush. That one hidden desire that no one needed to know about. The long and stagnant work days seemed to drift by--with the slight hope that the Count would call in that night. At one point,you were clearly becoming a bit overly invested...you needed a distraction. As always--your wishes were granted. The distraction came in the form of one beautiful boy

When you first met Martin, he seemed to be too good to be true-- he had a quiet sort of way of invading your thoughts. The moment you spotted him behind the counter in Cuda’s shop, you couldn’t understand why his face looked so familiar. There was a far away sort of look in his eyes as he stared off in the direction of the windows. He looked, somewhat out of place-- almost as though he belonged to another time. His skin was luminescent under the sunlight.

You felt as though you had just been punched the moment your eyes met. He looked just as startled, all color seemed to drain from his face-- he regarded you with the most curious expression.

Your relationship was almost effortless, it all started with you visiting him at the shop. Did you really need a can of coke every day around noon? Apparently you did. He seemed to catch on quickly enough, he was no longer as flustered whenever you’d arrive. He even went out of his way to make polite conversation, stepping away from the counter as soon as the lines cleared.

It was pretty silly in your opinion, why were you so drawn to this kid? A month ago, you didn’t even know he existed-- and now you were left figuring out ways just to see him.

He told you his schedule, the time he usually went on break--what time he usually got off. “Just in case… I like talking to you y/n.” The two of you were pretty much inseparable.

“P-please don’t leave.” His voice was barely a whisper. He sat crouched down in the far corner of your room. Close to the window, he seemed to like surprising you in that way-- the look on your face when you let him in very nearly broke him. You had been crying, that much was clear. The moment he asked you what was wrong, you flinched away. You didn’t want him to touch you. Had he done something wrong? “Y/n What did I do?.. why are you crying?”

He had truly screwed up, why couldn’t he just leave well enough alone? He hadn't called in to the station in months. Since being with you, he didn’t need to. He finally had someone to talk to. The crushing loneliness quelled by the sound of your voice. The assurance that you actually saw him. You entered his life like a dream-- you were the person he had been searching for. He was sure of it! Even your face looked so familiar--he would catch glimpses in the midst of his dreams.

But now, he had messed it all up. He just wanted to check in. Assure his ‘followers’ that he was still alive, and at this point actually happy. In his most recent call he had disclosed that he met someone--the best person in the world. Obnoxious sounds of broken glass streamed over the airwaves “Ya hear that? I’m sorry ladies--but the Count is officially taken!”

You had felt a slight flicker of disappointment, but it was more so fueled by nostalgia. If you didn’t have Martin, you might be a bit more upset-- but you were glad that the caller was coming out of his shell. They might convince him to get help! The more and more he spoke about the union, things began to fall in place. He mentioned everything from the way they would laugh-- to the way that he wished they would finally quit their job. “It just leaves them so tired and overwhelmed.. I-I just want them happy-- and with me all the time.”

You were just ranting about your job the other day. Martin… Please say that it’s not you.

“Don’t leave? Martin,“You broke me! You ruined everything we had and- for what?”

He was sobbing, knees buried against his chest, as you try to explicitly explain why everything in your relationship was wrong.

Why couldn’t he just tell you?! He could tell you just about anything..right? Why leave you so afraid for his well being every night. You would have loved him through anything. Sickness, doubt and old age, But he was somehow still insecure. He still felt the need to hide this part of himself-- you knew all about his addictions. You had yours as well.

Your mind was reeling--- you really wanted to crawl over and wrap your arms around him. He looked so small huddled against your windowsill, fingers lightly covering his ears. Gently rocking himself back and forwards, muttering breath his breath-- “I should have said something… y/n. J-Please don’t leave…”

So this was him. You actually Had the Count. In a way, your prayers had been answered. He cared for you enough to keep this part of himself hidden for so long. Perhaps you overreacted--but you really just needed Martin to trust you.

You tried your best to still yourself, absentmindedly wiping at the corners of your eyes. Out of all things, you weren't going to cry. At least, not in front of him. His tears were enough. You wanted to forgive him,you really did. It didn’t sit right in your soul, to be angry with him. It was much like the nights that he would disappear,without any reasonable explanation.

Your fingers card through his hair, as your irritation continues to rise.Dampness soaks into the fabric of your jeans-- at one point you want to physically pry him away from you.

“Why should I care about your tears, when you clearly don’t care about mine?!”

He seems almost startled for a moment, as he blinks. His expression alone continues to tug at your heart strings.

“Y/n.. I care… so much. I love you.”

There it goes again

“Where? I can’t see it. I can’t touch it! Martin...where is your love?”

He remains immobile for a moment as another wave of sobs wracks through his slight frame. He clutches his knees to his chest, fingers digging into the cuffs of his jeans--

You didn’t expect an answer. You didn't have the answer. You just wanted him out of your sight.

“The trees…” He mumbles..almost incoherently.. “Y-you can feel it in the trees. a--and in the sunlight….that’s when you love me too.. Right?”

And you did.. Unfortunately so. You nod briefly as you reach for your overnight bag.

“And in the breeze? You think of me then?”

He looked so small, crouched down in the corner of your room with tear stained cheeks.

If it was anyone else, it would have been so easy to cut them loose. But this was Martin.

“Darling, I need you to talk to me.”

#martin 1977 #martin 1978 #martin mathais #martin/you #martin/reader #queue

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

Text

Your Sword for a Kiss Part Two

(I bet you’ll never see it coming)

Part One

---

Jaskier was perhaps the wiggliest creature that Geralt had ever encountered. The sprite seemed capable of finding every single one of the knight’s sensitive spots by accident. The offhanded brush of fingers against a collarbone, the sweep of a hand against his cheek while Jaskier gestured, the insistent writhe and press of Jaskier’s perky, recently-nude ass against Geralt’s groin as they rode along.

The knight was glad the brunette couldn’t see his burning face. Jaskier could, however, feel the mortal man’s temperature increasing, even through the many layers of his shirtsleeves, linked silver mail, and leather armor. He turned halfway around in the saddle and noted Geralt’s red-tinted face, even though the knight avoided meeting his gaze. “Geralt, my darling, are you feeling feverish?”

“No, Jaskier. My clothing is heavy and the sun is high. That is all.”

“Hmm. Are you sure you’re not sick?”

One of the sprite’s unnaturally chilly hands cupped the side of Geralt’s overheated neck rather suddenly and the knight moaned at the cool, comforting sensation. He bit his tongue halfway through the sound, effectively strangling it in his throat. “My apologies, Jaskier. That was not very chivalrous of me.”

“On the contrary,” the sprite wiggled his eyebrows along with his slender, grabbable hips, “I rather liked it.”

“It’s not...polite.”

“I did not grow up at court,” Jaskier shrugged, letting his hands drift up to play with the tie in Geralt’s long white hair. “So I do not have to follow the rules of polite society.”

“I didn’t grow up at court either,” the knight gasped. Jaskier’s very clever hands were now kneading the taut muscles at the back of his neck and forcing them to relax. His arms tightened automatically around the sprite’s narrow waist as the rest of him sunk into a state of gentle comfort and happiness. “Jaskier.”

“Yes, darling?”

“Huh?” Geralt blinked his eyes open - when had he closed them? - and looked down at the slightly shorter man.

“You said my name.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Alright,” Jaskier grinned smugly. “I guess you didn’t.”

---

“Presenting Sir Geralt of Rivia and his guest at Camelot, Sir Jaskier of the Wooded Glen.”

Geralt and Jaskier rounded the corner and entered the Great Hall, at the far end of which sat Arthur on his throne. Jaskier paused to bow the way Geralt had taught him and laughed when the mortal monarch’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Jaskier!” the King cried, leaping to his feet. The royal steadied himself as the giddy sprite approached and bowed deeply to the young woodland creature. Jaskier giggled as he reached the King’s side and patted the ruler of Camelot gently on the crown of his bent head.

“Arthur! How lovely to see you!”

“J-Jaskier!?” Geralt questioned. He was still standing just inside the doorway, shocked at the recent turn of events.

“Oh, right, silly me!” Jaskier smiled. “Enough bowing, my good King Arthur. I need you to grant my boon, and you can’t do that while glaring down at the carpet.”

“Excuse me, my liege?” the King asked, standing back to his full height and quirking a confused eyebrow. Geralt was going to swoon. He was going to cry. He was going to wake up any second now and realize this was all a dream. Except that it wasn’t. At all. Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot and creator of the Round Table...was referring to Jaskier as his liege? Bowing to the overly chatty sprite? Showing the utmost respect to a man who had, not fifteen minutes prior, explained the absurdity of having to wear trousers in public to the guardsman at the gate? It didn’t make any sense.

“Your knight errant here, Sir Geralt of Rivia, was slaking his thirst from my sacred lake when his sword fell from its sheath and entered my waters.”

“His first gift,” Arthur gasped.

“Exactly that,” the sprite nodded. “I accepted it, of course. I mean, look at him; his hair alone would make a lesser nymph go weak in the knees. Sir Geralt then asked to have his sword back, clearly unaware of the circumstances we’d suddenly found ourselves in. I agreed to return it, but only if he granted me a kiss.”

“A kiss which could not be given without my consent, due to his oath as a Knight of the Round Table,” Arthur realized. He bowed again, quickly, to the great amusement of the water sprite. “My apologies for any inconvenience, Jaskier. Geralt is a recent addition to my retinue and clearly didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?” Geralt interrupted. He was feeling incredibly lost.

“You clearly didn’t know who my mother is,” Jaskier beamed. His teeth, razor sharp against the delicate pink skin of his lips, had Geralt holding back a gentle shudder. “She’s rather important around here.”

“Is she some noble lady I have yet to meet?” Geralt asked.

Arthur shook his head and Jaskier’s birdsong laugh flew all the way up into the rafters, melodic and sweet. “Silly mortal,” the sprite wiped a tear from his eye, “My mother is the much renowned and venerated Lady of the Lake.”

Geralt does swoon, then.

Right onto the floor of Camelot’s Great Hall.

---

“So do you really want to marry me?” Geralt asked, rubbing his hand up and down the back of his neck as if that could melt the awkward tension away. When he’d woken up in a set of unfamiliar rooms with Jaskier draped across the chaise lounge, shirt and smalls the only clothes remaining, Geralt had panicked a little. Then Jaskier very gently explained that Arthur had essentially given them the honeymoon suite.

“I’d like to, yes.”

“W-Why?”

“Geralt, my sweet,” the sprite chuckled, moving to sit on the bed next to his reclining fiancée. He tucked a piece of the knight’s loose white hair behind his ear, “You are the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen. I wish to have you with me always.”

“You want to marry me...because I’m pretty to look at?” Geralt blushed.

“No,” Jaskier rolled his eyes. “I said it’s because you’re beautiful. You played by my rules and still stood your ground when it came to your morals and beliefs. You kept your oath to Arthur as well as your promise to me. There are very few nobles at this court who deserve that word as a descriptor. You however, Sir Geralt of Rivia, deserve it entirely. You are truly and undoubtedly noble.”

“Thank you, My Liege,” Geralt dipped his head.

“None of that nonsense,” the sprite huffed, lifting Geralt’s chin back up. “Jaskier will do.”

“Hmm. Jaskier.”

“I have a wedding present for you. It’s a bit of a tradition in my family.”

“Oh? I don’t have anything for you,” Geralt frowned.

“No need. Your heart is enough of a gift already. My gift is more ceremonial than anything.”

“A-alright.”

Jaskier made a few quick hand movements and a long, thin pouch appeared on the bed before him. Geralt pulled the opening wide and removed a heavy silver sword. His golden eyes went wide and shocked, “Jaskier this is...”

“I know it’s not much in comparison to Excalibur but I’m not exactly the Lady of the Lake, I’m just her son-”

“It’s amazing.”

“You like it?”

“Yes. Very much,” Geralt balanced the sword in his hands for a moment. He set it back on top of the velvet pouch and smiled widely at the nervous sprite, “I love it. I love...you. Or I will, very shortly. I suspect that it will be hard not to love you.”

“Sweet Geralt,” the sprite sighed, resting his hand against the knight’s lightly stubbled cheek. “I cannot wait to kiss you.”

“Do you want to kiss me now, then?”

“Tomorrow, when we’re married. I’ll kiss you as befitting of a bride.”

“Wh-”

“Until tomorrow!”

And Jaskier was gone.

---

The kiss was sweet and tender and soft; everything Geralt had ever hoped his first kiss after so many years would be. Jaskier had the fingers of one hand curled gently into the back of the knight’s moon-white hair. His other hand was gripping the knight’s left hip. Geralt’s hands were both wrapped around Jaskier’s waist, holding him close. The sprite’s lips were soft and his mouth felt cool. The knight never knew a kiss could be so refreshing until this moment.

When they finally pulled apart for air, Jaskier smiled and kissed the taller man on the corner of his mouth. “You look lovely, Geralt.

“As do you, husband.”

There was a teasing glint in the fae man’s eyes when he kissed the knight full on the mouth again and laughed brightly. The laugh that had first captured Geralt’s heart not two days earlier; “I love you already, my pretty wife!”

Geralt’s spluttering was drowned out by yet another kiss. And another after that.

#geraskier #you thought i was gonna make jaskier the wife? FOOLS #GERALT IS THE WIFE NOW #geraskier ficlet #geraskier camelot au #witcher camelot au #geraskier fic #soft geralt #your sword for a kiss #shy geralt #nervous geralt #soft jaskier #gentle jaskier #jaskier hates wearing pants #sprite jaskier #fae jaskier #water sprite jaskier #camelot #geraskier knight au

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

Arranged

Draco Malfoy x reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: arranged marriage

Author’s Note: I HAVE 24 REQUESTS AND I DONT CARE let me thirst over Draco Malfoy fuck y’all I don’t want to write another Roman Sionis fic @pepperminteabags this ones for you boo lets thirst together. Request for draco people

Summary: An arranged marriage grows really close friends who grows to really close lovers.

Genre: FLUFF

(not my gif)

You didn’t meet the boy you were meant to marry until you went to school. There was a big thing between your family and the Malfoys that had gone on for centuries on end. Well yours, his and many other families. It wasn’t everyone in the Wizarding World who proposed an arranged marriage but when there happened to be a birth around the same age the families would talk about it and declare that those two babies would be married when they were of age.

You heard much more about Draco Malfoy then you wanted to before you met him. You felt like you knew him but you had grown to hate the idea of him. You weren’t even supposed to meet until you got to Hogwarts and then you would grow closer. That was what your mother had told you time and time again even if you grew to believe it less and less as the years went on.

You remembered meeting Draco like it was yesterday. You had been on the train, making an attempt to first off, dodge Draco despite not knowing what he looked like and also find the trolley with the candy that your older friends had told you about.

You ended up walking right into the room with Draco. You didn’t even realize it was him and he didn’t realize it was you till half way through the train ride. You thought it was annoying at first because you wanted so badly to hate him but he had been rather nice to you. Granted, he had been in a good mood and if you had caught him on a worse day he would have most likely snapped at you.

You grew to be close friends actually, which pleased both sets of parents. In your sixth year you sat together at the foot of the stairs in the astronomy tower. It was getting late and you were sure that you should go back to your respective rooms but you were to busy talking about something stupid that Harry Potter had done recently (and frequent topic of conversation).

“My mother sent a howler today,” you said finally. Draco had been doing some studies during lunch or maybe he was just hidden in some corner talking about Harry when you got the letter. He raised his eyebrow.

“I suppose the eventual ‘my daughter actually likes her future husband I’ve picked and I love that’ high had to wear off at some point,” he admitted. “What did she say?”

You raised your finger, pointing it at him in a way that you mother had before. He laughed a little.

“I’ve been hearing rumors you aren’t up on your studies and are messing around with boys in the astronomy tower!” you said in a low mean voice. He laughed, shaking his head a little.

“You have been messing around with boys in the astronomy tower but who told her I wonder.”

“Weasly knows my mom. No doubt he told her to annoy me.” You didn’t hate Ron, Harry or Hermoine but sometimes their little feud with Draco came back to bite you where it hurts. And because the whole school knew you were everything but married at this point you often got pit together when people were speaking of only one of you.

You had even picked up the nickname Malfoy in third year.

“It was one of those redheads. Could’ve been the twins.” You shrugged.

“Could’ve been. Did you get a letter from your parents?”

He took a deep breath and pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. You raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as he smoothed it out on his knee. You moved forward, moving from sitting across from him to sitting beside him on the stair just above his.

“I was gonna show you earlier but we were very busy discussing potions.” You rolled your eyes.

“If you tell me one more time that you have a higher grade than me in potions I will shove you down the stairs.”

“We’re like four steps from the bottom.”

“What does it say Malfoy?” He smoothed it one more time.

“My mom wants you to know that they’ve planned most of the wedding for when you hit 18. She just needs you to pick a dress and yada yada.” You pursed your lips. You were still rather annoyed that you had an arranged marriage in the first place but you would be lying if you said it hadn’t brought you and Draco closer together.

Even your parents knew you were meant to be.

“Should I get one of those long poofy black dresses? I could be a bridezilla Draco. I could literally yell at you if you don’t get the flowers I want.” He shoved you to the side and you shoved him back, chuckling.

“You think we’re gonna have to invite Potter to the wedding?”

“If he lives through this year probably but the chances he lives are quite small these days,” you pointed out. He shoved the paper in his pocket again and looked out the large arch window that the two of you were facing.

“It could have been worse you know,” he muttered, lost in thought. He was rarely like this. He didn’t have many friends that he was ever emotionally vulnerable with but he had you which most days was enough.

“What could have been worse?” you questioned, your gaze followed his out the window. The stars were out and you should have definitely gone back to your rooms by now but neither of you really wanted to.

“The arranged marriage and stuff. I heard the couple before us tore each other to shreds.” You chuckled.

“Who’s to say we won’t still do that Malfoy?” He rolled his eyes but you put your arm around him, your head on his. He melted into your side.

“You wouldn't do that.”

“Yes I would.” “I would win. You know why?” You raised an eyebrow and moved your head to look down at him. He looked up at you from the lower stair.

“Why?”

“I have a better potions grade then you.”

“I am going to shove you down these four stairs so hard you won’t be able to walk down the aisle.”

#draco Malfoy x reader #draco Malfoy imagines

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

Text

Welllp These Are Books: the April 2021 Edition

I did not read Romeo and Juliet this month. I read a bunch of other books. Like, a bunch. More than one series. Because Big Bang burnout is real and grown adults missing their deadlines is a real good way to stress me out. So, I read a bunch. Good books, very bad books, books that caused limbs to flail. For positive and not-so-positive reasons. Naturally, all those reasons must be shared. Under the cut with occasionally long and rant-prone reviews, as well as spoilers. Beware of spoilers under the cut. Please keep telling me what to read, internet. My library wish list is almost comically long now.

GIVE ME ALL THE WORLD BUILDING AND SNARK AND FIGHTING! WITH MAGIC! AND SWORDS! IT’S MY FAVORITE THING IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD!

Shades of Magic Series by V.E. Schwab

Kell is one of the last Antari—magicians with a rare, coveted ability to travel between parallel Londons; Red, Grey, White, and, once upon a time, Black. After an exchange goes awry, Kell escapes to Grey London and runs into Delilah Bard, a cut-purse with lofty aspirations. Now perilous magic is afoot, and treachery lurks at every turn. To save all of the worlds, they'll first need to stay alive.

— Picture it, approximately twelve forty-seven am. My husband is asleep. I am reading. The second book in this series ends. And I say, right out loud, at what might now be twelve forty-eight am, HOLY SHIT IT JUST ENDED. Justin thought we were under attack. No man has ever snapped awake quicker. He was not pleased. At least not in the same way that I was about these books. Which I goddamn LOVED. Loved. The world building. The magic. The banter. Rhy and Kell’s relationship. Once more. RHY AND KELL’S RELATIONSHIP. Which I might have cared about more than the romance??? Maybe??? I cannot get over how good this world building was. I know people have quips with it, and that’s fair. I saw the “twist” coming in the first book, and I think trying to preserve that left some plot holes that are understandably frustrating. Because Lilah definitely needed depth perception to fight as well as she did. Also did Schwab really refer to her as a cross dresser in her author’s note? Yikes. She wore a dude’s jacket, like—c’mon V.E. Other than that though. I loved it. Also shout out to @peglegsjones for suggesting this one in my 2020 post and call out to me for taking so long to read it.

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

Ketterdam: a bustling hub of international trade where anything can be had for the right price—and no one knows that better than criminal prodigy Kaz Brekker. Kaz is offered a chance at a deadly heist that could make him rich beyond his wildest dreams. But he can't pull it off alone. . . . A convict with a thirst for revenge. A sharpshooter who can't walk away from a wager. A runaway with a privileged past. A spy known as the Wraith. A Heartrender using her magic to survive the slums. A thief with a gift for unlikely escapes. Six dangerous outcasts. One impossible heist. Kaz's crew is the only thing that might stand between the world and destruction—if they don't kill each other first.

— I’ve talked about how little I cared about anything that happened in Shadow and Bone before, but I kept seeing gifs of the Crows in the Netflix show and my brain was like: huh, I could like them. So, after some help from the very helpful internet, I’m happy to report I do in fact like them. At one point, I slunk into the couch. Like that’s how overcome with emotion I was. Kaz ripped a dude’s eye out! For Inej! Matthias loved Nina’s laugh! I would like to hug Jesper. Seriously, this hit all my high points and world building and banter and I lol’ed at “scheming face.” I would like my hold to come through faster on the sequel.

THEY DID NOT CALL INTERMISSION HALFTIME AND MY COLLEGE EXPERIENCE WAS WAY DIFFERENT THAN THESE KIDS

The Off Campus Series by Elle Kennedy

Hannah Wells has finally found someone who turns her on. But while she might be confident in every other area of her life, she’s carting around a full set of baggage when it comes to sex and seduction. If she wants to get her crush’s attention, she’ll have to step out of her comfort zone and make him take notice…even if it means tutoring the annoying, childish, cocky captain of the hockey team in exchange for a pretend date. All Garrett Graham has ever wanted is to play professional hockey after graduation, but his plummeting GPA is threatening everything he’s worked so hard for. If helping a sarcastic brunette make another guy jealous will help him secure his position on the team, he’s all for it. But when one unexpected kiss leads to the wildest sex of both their lives, it doesn’t take long for Garrett to realize that pretend isn’t going to cut it. Now he just has to convince Hannah that the man she wants looks a lot like him.

— The first book in this series was free on Amazon. So, I read it. And really liked it??? It was so chock full of cliches and badly written tropes and Garrett probably should have accepted that Hannah didn’t want to go out at the start, but like—he was cute? And as we all know I am TRASH™ for stories set in the same verse, so, like, I just kept reading these trashy college hockey books. Trashy is a compliment here. God, these kids had so much sex. So much. An incredible amount, really. I once had a guy tell me he was physically attracted to me, but not emotionally attracted to me in college. Like, that was my college experience. The first and second books were the best, I think. I didn’t really like Dean that much.

MAYBE IT WAS BECAUSE HE WAS A RABBI???

The Intimacy Experiement by Rosie Danan

Naomi Grant has built her life around going against the grain. After the sex-positive start-up she cofounded becomes an international sensation, she wants to extend her educational platform to live lecturing. Unfortunately, despite her long list of qualifications, higher ed won't hire her. Ethan Cohen has recently received two honors: LA Mag nominated him as one of the city's hottest bachelors and he became rabbi of his own synagogue. Low on both funds and congregants, the executive board of Ethan's new shul hired him with the hopes that his nontraditional background will attract more millennials to the faith. They've given him three months to turn things around or else they'll close the doors of his synagogue for good. Naomi and Ethan join forces to host a buzzy seminar series on Modern Intimacy, the perfect solution to their problems--until they discover a new one--their growing attraction to each other. They've built the syllabus for love's latest experiment, but neither of them expected they'd be the ones putting it to the test.

— Ok, I know that sounds bad. Again, I’m a creature of predictable habit and this was the sequel to The Roommate, which I absolutely LOVED last year. But where as the relationship in that one was kind of swoony, this one was...I don’t know, really. Everyone was a well-rounded character and the plot was good, but there was this semi-invisible something that made it difficult for me to get fully on board with the whole story. Honestly, it might be because he was a religious figure?? Also, they got together real quick. Like zero to sixty in twenty-six seconds flat.

I KNOW IT’S BAD, IT WAS BAD AND YET—I CANNOT STOP READING IT???

Too Wild to Tame by Tessa Bailey

Sometimes you just can't resist playing with fire . . . By day, Aaron Clarkson suits up, shakes hands, and acts the perfect gentleman. But at night, behind bedroom doors, the tie comes off and the real Aaron comes out to play. Mixing business with pleasure got him fired, so Aaron knows that if he wants to work for the country's most powerful senator, he'll have to keep his eye on the prize. That's easier said than done when he meets the senator's daughter, who's wild, gorgeous, and 100 percent trouble. Grace Pendleton is the black sheep of her conservative family. Yet while Aaron's presence reminds her of a past she'd rather forget, something in his eyes keeps drawing her in. Maybe it's the way his voice turns her molten. Or maybe it's because deep down inside, the ultra-smooth, polished Aaron Clarkson might be more than even Grace can handle . . .

— Last month I read the first book in this series and it was absolutely ridiculous. This one even more so. The Clarksons are still on the road trip (sans one sibling because she fell in love in a week in the first book) and Aaron was, like, not a root’able character? Very Edward Cullen I’M A BAD GUY, BELLA vibes and his relationship with Grace was so strange. Super rushed again, obvs. Meeting in the woods is weird enough. Professing love forty-eight hours later is decidedly unbelievable. Also there was a kidnapping involved? I totally put a hold on the next book in the series.

COME UP WITH DIFFERENT TRAUMA, I DARE YOU! OR NO TRAUMA. WHAT A CONCEPT!!

The Trouble With Hating You by Sajni Patel

Liya Thakkar is a successful biochemical engineer, takeout enthusiast, and happily single woman. The moment she realizes her parents' latest dinner party is a setup with the man they want her to marry, she's out the back door in a flash. Imagine her surprise when the same guy shows up at her office a week later -- the new lawyer hired to save her struggling company. What's not surprising: he's not too thrilled to see her either after that humiliating fiasco.

Jay Shah looks good on paper...and off. Especially if you like that whole gorgeous, charming lawyer-in-a-good-suit thing. He's also infuriating. As their witty office banter turns into late-night chats, Liya starts to think he might be the one man who truly accepts her. But falling for each other means exposing their painful pasts. Will Liya keep running, or will she finally give love a real chance?

— I had such high hopes for this one. Which is on me, I guess. Because I didn’t hate this one, but it was...not great. Maybe I’m just getting old and crotchety but I am BEGGING romance writers to come up with different trauma for their female protagonists. Not every woman has to have been assaulted to rationalize their current personality. Doesn’t have to happen. Like, ok, yes it does happen. Far more than it should. But that’s an entirely different story, and I am so tired of female characters getting absolutely destroyed by their past only to have that be their defining characteristic for so much of the book. Until a nice man they were initially mean to shows up and he’s UNDERSTANDING and he CARES and it’s just, bleh. It’s bleh. Tired and predictable and I’m over it.

IN WHICH I SHOULD HAVE LOOKED AT THE COVER

Much Ado About You by Samantha Young

At thirty-three-years old Evangeline Starling’s life in Chicago is missing that special something. And when she’s passed over for promotion at work, Evie realizes she needs to make a change. Some time away to regain perspective might be just the thing. In a burst of impulsivity, she plans a holiday in a quaint English village. The holiday package comes with a temporary position at Much Ado About Books, the bookstore located beneath her rental apartment. There’s no better dream vacation for the bookish Evie, a life-long Shakespeare lover. Not only is Evie swept up in running the delightful store as soon as she arrives, she’s drawn into the lives, loves and drama of the friendly villagers. Including Roane Robson, the charismatic and sexy farmer who tempts Evie every day with his friendly flirtations. Evie is determined to keep him at bay because a holiday romance can only end in heartbreak, right? But Evie can’t deny their connection and longs to trust in her handsome farmer that their whirlwind romance could turn in to the forever kind of love.

— Ok, so I had had this book on hold for so long that I genuinely forgot about it and forgot who it was written by. Samantha Young wrote that one book that I called the worst book I had ever read. Only I did not realize that when I started reading this one. So, you see how this sets us up for disaster. Because this book was a disaster. Everyone was goddamn annoying. And whiny. Shit, everyone whined. About everything. Also, the actual writing was atrocious. I am not usually one to be like “men can’t write,” but at one point I told both @shireness-says and @optomisticgirl that this book must have been secretly written by a man because no woman writing it would be so obsessed with pointing out where her cellulite was. Like, what??? Also the first sex scene? Oh my God, I laughed. Guffawed. The so-called love interest literally asked: “Are we going to have sex now?” And then they just did. It was so bad. Also there was a dog? Who went everywhere with the so-called love interest. And they just never explained that? I thought it was going to be part of some crushing and depressing backstory. Nah, he was just there.

HOLY SHIT THIS WAS SO DUMB I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS WAS A BOOK! A BOOK MEANT FOR YOUNG ADULTS! WHAT IS YOUNG ADULT???

The Queen’s Secret by Melissa de la Cruz

Lilac's birthright makes her the Queen of Renovia, and a forced marriage made her the Queen of Montrice. But being a ruler does not mean making the rules. For Lilac, taking the throne means giving up the opportunity to be with love of her life, the kingdom's assassin, Caledon Holt. Worse, Cale is forced to leave the castle when a horrific set of magical attacks threatens Lilac's sovereignty. Now Cal eand Lilac will have to battle dark forces separately, even though being together is the only thing that's ever saved them.

— Remember last month when I was like: can’t wait for my hold to come through on this sequel so I know what happens? What an idiot. THIS BOOK WAS SO DUMB I CANNOT BELIEVE IT WAS A BOOK. As always in my rage-induced rants, no apologies for spoilers because seriously do NOT read this, but Lilac (legit, that was her name) married some other dude but just kept fucking Cale??? Like she had a secret door? So he could come in and they could fuck?? I just—oh my God. So, all these things kept happening. Magic and bad stuff and horses were killed. Lilac’s mother was the absolute WORST. Honestly the most worthless character who at one point was like “well, my story is over, guess it’s time to leave,” and then just left?? Forced Lilac into a marriage of alliance and no love and then everything evil was defeated in point two four seconds. It happened so fast I wasn’t even sure it happened. So, then I’m like, ok, how are Lilac and Cale going to end up together? Because this is YA and that’s how it’s supposed to work. Only her being married and that marriage requiring an heir is something of a rather large hurdle. Don’t worry! Remember when Lilac and Cale were fucking? Everyone totally knew. Including the king Lilac is married to. Who is somehow like...ok with this? And tells Cale that Lilac is pregnant. ISN’T THAT WONDERFUL! Sure, because now they can lie and claim its the king’s heir. ONLY IT’S CALE’S KID! AND CALE IS COOL WITH THIS! His entire internal monologue during this is about how he realizes he might not ever be able to tell his kid he’s their father, but he’ll be around and that’s good. Wait, what??? But there’s more! Not only is Lilac having Cale’s kid, but the king she’s married to is in love with one of Cale’s spy associates. So the king and the spy are going to go hang out (and presumably have their own kids) at one castle and Lilac and Cale are going to go to another. Lilac and the king never get divorced or annulled or whatever. Everyone stays as is and married as is and—they all live happily ever after? This was presented as a good ending, I swear. What the shit, guys, seriously.

#book rec #book reccs #fantasy recommendations #rom com recs #laura reads books #i am still waiting for people to respond to my emails #and only vaguely stressed out about it #welllp these are books

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

TLTNL- The Fountain of Fair Fortune

Harry made to hand the book to Remus out of habit, but Lily offered, "I'll read the next one." She was enjoying the honest bliss Harry seemed to be carrying while reading these, something she'd been afraid would be long absent with his recent bout of memory returns, but thankfully just being in Sirius' presence seemed to be holding him in good spirits for now and she wanted to keep this up however she could. So she passed her infant along to her husband and happily found the next story.

"I call dibs on my favorite then," Sirius declared at once as he watched Lily skip around their order.

Remus got a bad feeling about letting Sirius do that, because he was now worried about that look he was being given like his mate was going to be picking the story for him as well, but Lily was ignoring the both of them and starting.

High on a hill in an enchanted garden, enclosed by tall walls and protected by strong magic, flowed the Fountain of Fair Fortune.

Once a year, between the hours of sunrise and sunset on the longest day, a single unfortunate was given the chance to fight their way to the Fountain, bathe in its waters and receive Fair Fortune for evermore.

On the appointed day, hundreds of people traveled from all over the kingdom to reach the garden walls before dawn. Male and female, rich and poor,

"Why would a rich person show up? Judging by the tale, that person should automatically know they're not getting picked," James rolled his eyes.

"Rich people can be unhappy," Sirius shook his head at him, "I'm sure they think their woes are justifiable enough even if no one agrees."

"I still doubt the fountain would ever choose someone with gold to spare," James shrugged.

young and old, of magical means and without, they gathered in the darkness, each hoping that they would be the one to gain entrance to the garden.

Three witches, each with her burden of woe, met on the outskirts of the crowd, and told one another their sorrows as they waited for sunrise.

"My mother always told me they were sisters, not strangers met," James said in surprise.

"Like the one before, I'm sure they all get tweaked with every retelling," Sirius shrugged.

The first, by name Asha,

"Ooh," Lily couldn't help but coo with a small smile as she turned to Harry and explained, "that's what we were going to name you if you were a girl."

"That's what she wanted to name you," James corrected. "I wanted to name you Poppy, or Rose."

"The flower thing is getting ridiculous James," Lily sighed with a small smile saying otherwise.

"I disagree," James defended, "the one thing I ever remember Petunia telling me was all the women in your family being named for flowers, and I don't need your mother to have another excuse to dislike me if I break that tradition."

"You're being ridiculous," Lily said in exasperation, but James was still going full steam to Harry.

"Her mothers name is Delilah, her Grandmother was Fern, and then there was her sister Iris-"

"Of all the things you remember from that one dinner," Lily blushed faintly as he tried to keep going.

The two parents began arguing the point, leading Sirius to lean over and whisper to Remus, "think they're arguing about this a bit more than necessary?"

Remus started to smirk and say, "those two? The ones who argue like that about what to eat for dinner?" Then he paused, kept watching, and muttered, "though Harry was a surprise as well."

Sirius couldn't help but snort, but then Harry got their attention and they decided to keep going.

was sick of a malady no Healer could cure. She hoped that the Fountain would banish her symptoms and grant her a long and happy life.

The second, by name Altheda, had been robbed of her home, her gold and her wand by an evil sorcerer. She hoped that the Fountain might relieve her of powerlessness and poverty.

The third, by name Amata, had been deserted by a man whom she loved dearly, and she thought her heart would never mend. She hoped that the Fountain would relieve her of her grief and longing.

"Must be some magical fountain to have the potential to heal any of that," Harry muttered.

"The things we still wish magic could do," James agreed.

Pitying each other, the three women agreed that, should the chance befall them, they would unite and try to reach the Fountain together.

"I think Asha wins from that group outright, she's the one most likely to die, the other two's fortune could change without some mystic help," Sirius muttered with a sideways look at Remus, who was blatantly ignoring him.

The sky was rent with the first ray of sun, and a chink in the wall opened. The crowd surged forward, each of them shrieking their claim for the Fountain's benison. Creepers from the garden beyond snaked through the pressing mass, and twisted themselves around the first witch, Asha.

Lily smiled brightly, gaze flickering to her child and back to the story with even such the silly happiness of the character she liked best being chosen.

She grasped the wrist of the second witch, Altheda, who seized tight upon the robes of the third witch, Amata. And Amata became caught upon the armour of a dismal-looking knight who was seated on a bone-thin horse.

The creepers tugged the three witches through the chink in the wall, and the knight was dragged off his steed after them.

"Seems a bit ridiculous all four were let in," Remus couldn't help but scoff at this logic. "What was to stop the whole crowd from just forming a chain and all going in together to reach the fountain."

"Clearly it's because they didn't expect idiots like you to be sitting around questioning them when they made up this fairy-tale," Sirius snipped.

The furious screams of the disappointed throng rose upon the morning air, then fell silent as the garden walls sealed once more.

Harry shivered heavily, at the reminder of being in hedges that blocked out the noise of a crowd. He was being ridiculous, he told himself sternly without looking at any of them who had surely noticed. It had already happened, no need to get spooked over a kids story!

"It's alright Harry," James kept eyes on his infant as he spoke calmly and softly, though the child was gurgling with delight and for once looked better off than the adult watching.

Asha and Altheda were angry with Amata, who had accidentally brought along the knight.

"Only one can bathe in the Fountain! It will be hard enough to decide which of us it will be, without adding another!"

Now, Sir Luckless,

"Much nicer than I would have called him," Sirius snickered.

as the knight was known in the land outside the walls, observed that these were witches, and, having no magic, nor any great skill at jousting or duelling with swords, nor anything that distinguished the non-magical man,

"Then, why was he a knight?" Harry asked, trying to picture in his head and not coming up with anything.

"Anyone can put on a costume I suppose," James chuckled.

was sure that he had no hope of beating the three women to the Fountain. He therefore declared his intention of withdrawing outside the walls again.

At this, Amata became angry too.

"Faint heart!" she chided him. "Draw your sword, Knight, and help us reach our goal!"

"Honestly I'd have tried to retreat too," Sirius rubbed at the back of his neck with his face pinched up. "Being stuck around three women who are assuredly going to get into a fight, I'd happily stay out of that one."

"Faint heart indeed," Lily sniffed, now easily picturing Sirius in that get up instead of Sir Cadogan from before.

And so the three witches and the forlorn knight ventured forth into the enchanted garden, where rare herbs, fruit and flowers grew in abundance on either side of the sunlit paths.

They met no obstacle until they reached the foot of the hill on which the Fountain stood.

There, however, wrapped around the base of the hill, was a monstrous white Worm, bloated and blind. At their approach, it turned a foul face upon them, and uttered the following words:

"Pay me the proof of your pain."

Harry couldn't help but shift restlessly again, despite the description, his mind flashing to a Sphinx from so long ago, but then the infant burst out laughing as James continued to make faces at him, and Lily kept reading in such an assured voice with a warm smile it easily soothed the dusk filled night from his nightmares.

Sir Luckless drew his sword and attempted to kill the beast, but his blade snapped.

"Credit for trying?" Remus offered with a halfhearted smile.

Then Altheda cast rocks at the Worm, while Asha and Amata essayed every spell that might subdue or entrance it, but the power of their wands was no more effective than their friend's stone, or the knight's steel: the Worm would not let them pass.

The sun rose higher and higher in the sky, and Asha, despairing, began to weep.

Then the great Worm placed its face upon hers and drank the tears from her cheeks.

"Eww," Lily muttered with a crinkled nose, while James started snickering at the expression and promised her, "don't worry Lily flower, I'm the only one who can do that to you."

"More eww," Sirius told the pair while Lily rolled her eyes at them and kept going loudly.

Its thirst assuaged, the Worm slithered aside, and vanished into a hole in the ground.

Rejoicing at the Worm's disappearance, the three witches and the knight began to climb the hill, sure that they would reach the Fountain before noon.

Halfway up the steep slope, however, they came across words cut into the ground before them.

Pay me the fruit of your labors.

Sir Luckless took out his only coin, and placed it upon the grassy hillside, but it rolled away and was lost.

"Poor bloke," Remus tried to smile at what was likely meant as a joke or just another instance of the characters trying to take the story too literally, but sadly he had an idea of being down to your last Knut.

The three witches and the knight continued to climb, but though they walked for hours more, they advanced not a step; the summit came no nearer, and still the inscription lay in the earth before them.

All were discouraged as the sun rose over their heads and began to sink towards the far horizon, but Altheda walked faster and harder than any of them, and exhorted the others to follow her example, though she moved no further up the enchanted hill.

"Courage, friends, and do not yield!" she cried, wiping the sweat from her brow.

As the drops fell glittering on to the earth, the inscription blocking their path vanished, and they found that they were able to move upwards once more.

"You think that's just what this magical fountain is full of? The sweat and tears of all the witches and wizards over the years?" Sirius pondered.

"That was vaguely gross, and yet I kind of believe it," Remus chuckled.

Delighted by the removal of this second obstacle, they hurried towards the summit as fast as they could, until at last they glimpsed the Fountain, glittering like crystal in a bower of flowers and trees.

Before they could reach it, however, they came to a stream that ran round the hilltop, barring their way. In the depths of the clear water lay a smooth stone bearing the words:

Pay me the treasure of your past.

Sir Luckless attempted to float across the stream on his shield, but it sank. The three witches pulled him from the water, then tried to leap the brook themselves, but it would not let them cross,

"You'd think by the third time they'd realize something was up other than just try to go around," James snorted.

"Yeah, these dense broads should be asking the fountain for something more to do with smarts than love or whatever," Sirius smirked.

"Remind me again how you're not the one married," Lily muttered, though she couldn't help but agree with him, these witches weren't exactly using a lot of problem solving skills.

and all the while the sun was sinking lower in the sky.

So they fell to pondering the meaning of the stone's message, and Amata was the first to understand. Taking her wand, she drew from her mind all the memories of happy times she had spent with her vanished lover, and dropped them into the rushing waters. The stream swept them away, and stepping stones appeared, and the three witches and the knight were able to pass at last on to the summit of the hill.

"There they have it," Remus mock applauded.

The Fountain shimmered before them, set amidst herbs and flowers rarer and more beautiful than any they had yet seen. The sky burned ruby, and it was time to decide which of them would bathe.

Before they could make their decision, however, frail Asha fell to the ground. Exhausted by their struggle to the summit, she was close to death.

Her three friends would have carried her to the Fountain, but Asha was in mortal agony and begged them not to touch her.

Then Altheda hastened to pick all those herbs she thought most hopeful, and mixed them in Sir Luckless's gourd of water, and poured the potion into Asha's mouth.

At once, Asha was able to stand. What was more, all symptoms of her dread malady had vanished.

"I thought the worm did that," James scratched at the back of his head as he tried to recall his mothers old retelling with this instead. "The three trials cured the other three and then Sir Luckless didn't because he no longer needed to or some such."

"You've got to stop comparing retellings," Lily shook her head at him before continuing.

"I am cured!" she cried. "I have no need of the Fountain, let Altheda bathe!"

But Altheda was busy collecting more herbs in her apron. "If I can cure this disease, I shall earn gold aplenty! Let Amata bathe!"

Sir Luckless bowed, and gestured Amata towards the Fountain, but she shook her head.

The stream had washed away all regret for her lover, and she saw now that he had been cruel and faithless, and that it was happiness enough to be rid of him.

"Good sir, you must bathe, as a reward for all your chivalry!" she told Sir Luckless.

"What do you think he'd even ask for? To have his name changed?" Sirius kept picking at the idea while Remus and James snickered along.

So the knight clanked forth in the last rays of the setting sun, and bathed in the Fountain of Fair Fortune, astonished that he was the chosen one of hundreds and giddy with his incredible luck.

As the sun fell below the horizon, Sir Luckless emerged from the waters with the glory of his triumph upon him, and flung himself in his rusted armor at the feet of Amata, who was the kindest and most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. Flushed with success, he begged for her hand and her heart, and Amata, no less delighted, realized that she had found a man worthy of them.

The three witches and the knight set off down the hill together, arm in arm, and all four led long and happy lives, and none of them ever knew or suspected that the Fountain's waters carried no enchantment at all.

"Dun, dun, dun!" Sirius cried, throwing his arms in the air for emphasis.

"I've got to give him that one," James chuckled.

"I can see the moral it was going for, but remember it had chosen Asha first," Lily said with a creased brow. "If the water wasn't meant to heal, and the poor thing would have died by the journey of just getting up to the magical herbs that did heal her, than it's still a good thing she dragged someone along who knew what they were doing."

"Agreed, teamwork seems to be the point of it all," Harry said watching those around him, his mind on a much more recent memory from his past where he was sure he wouldn't have made it out anymore than his godfather if not for his friends backup.

Albus Dumbledore on "The Fountain of Fair Fortune"

"The Fountain of Fair Fortune" is a perennial favorite, so much so that it was the subject of the sole attempt to introduce a Christmas pantomime to Hogwarts' festive celebrations.

"Oh, this was it!" Remus burst out laughing.

"You mentioned the school tried to put on a play once, should have known it was Dumbledore's actual idea," Sirius snickered.

"Let me finish," Lily scolded, having read ahead and contradicting him.

Our then Herbology master, Professor Herbert Beery,1 an enthusiastic devotee of amateur dramatics, proposed an adaptation of this well-beloved children's tale as a Yuletide treat for staff and students.

"Ah well, lets see why it was such a disaster then," James said eagerly.

I was then a young Transfiguration teacher, and Herbert assigned me to "special effects", which included providing a fully functioning Fountain of Fair Fortune and a miniature grassy hill, up which our three heroines and hero would appear to march,

"We absolutely should have got those parts," Sirius huffed.

"Padfoot," Remus began slowly and kindly, "think about what you just said."

It took him a second, but his slightly pouting expression didn't change much. "Flip it to three hero's and a heroin then, Lily could totally be a knight."

"Thanks," she muttered, "I always do feel luckless with you around."

Sirius went wide-eyed but defended his claim, "come on Lily, you know it's perfect! Remus is Asha-"

"Because no one saw that coming," Moony said while giving him the stank eye.

"Prongs is Amata," he kept going on the same breath while James put his arm around Lily without contesting being love sick most of his life.

"-and you're the random person that got plopped down with us but we'd never replace."

She eyed him for a moment like she couldn't decide if she was supposed to be insulted or warmed by that, Sirius had a gift of managing both at the same time.

"Since when have you ever been poor and down on your luck?" Remus accused. "I think I should just play both parts."

"Let you steal the show?" Sirius gasped. "I can play a part!"

"Honestly, I think he has enough energy to play all four main characters," Harry muttered.

while it sank slowly into the stage and out of sight.

I think I may say, without vanity, that both my Fountain and my Hill performed the parts allotted to them with simple goodwill. Alas, that the same could not be said of the rest of the cast. Ignoring for a moment the antics of the gigantic "Worm" provided by our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Silvanus Kettleburn, the human element proved disastrous to the show. Professor Beery, in his role of director, had been dangerously oblivious to the emotional entanglements seething under his very nose. Little did he know that the students playing Amata and Sir Luckless had been boyfriend and girlfriend until one hour before the curtain rose, at which point "Sir Luckless" transferred his affections to "Asha".

"May as well have done a play over A Midsummer Night's Dream." Lily chuckled at how confusing all this could get.

Suffice it to say that our seekers after Fair Fortune never made it to the top of the Hill. The curtain had barely risen when Professor Kettleburn's 'Worm', now revealed to be an Ashwinder2 with an Engorgement Charm upon it,

"Whose terrible idea was that?" Remus muttered, then he remembered his old Care of Magical Creatures teacher hadn't exactly been any more steller than Harry's in recognizing when particular magical creatures should be in a situation.

exploded in a shower of hot sparks and dust, filling the Great Hall with smoke and fragments of scenery. While the enormous fiery eggs it had laid at the foot of my Hill ignited the floorboards, "Amata" and "Asha" turned upon each other, duelling so fiercely that Professor Beery was caught in the crossfire, and staff had to evacuate the Hall, as the inferno now raging onstage threatened to engulf the place. The night's entertainment concluded with a packed hospital wing; it was several months before the Great Hall lost its pungent aroma of wood smoke, and even longer before Professor Beery's head reassumed its normal proportions, and Professor Kettleburn was taken off probation.3

"And the school didn't want to try again?" James demanded. "Where's their sense of adventure?"

"Safe in the hospital wing," Lily giggled.

Headmaster Armando Dippet imposed a blanket ban on future pantomimes, a proud non-theatrical tradition that Hogwarts continues to this day.

"They are really missing out," Sirius insisted.

Our dramatic fiasco notwithstanding, "The Fountain of Fair Fortune" is probably the most popular of Beedle's tales, although, just like "The Wizard and the Hopping Pot", it has its detractors.

"Of course it does," James rolled his eyes.

More than one parent has demanded the removal of this particular tale from the Hogwarts library, including, by coincidence, a descendant of Brutus Malfoy and member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, Mr. Lucius Malfoy. *

"Is Malfoy on the board of governors already?" Lily spluttered in pure disgust. Admittedly more outraged than anything he'd pulled so high in the Ministry while only being a few years above her and she was still at the bottom.

"There's a nightmare we need to fix soon," Remus agreed in disgust.

Mr. Malfoy submitted his demand for a ban on the story in writing:

Any work of fiction or non-fiction that depicts interbreeding between wizards and Muggles should be banned from the bookshelves of Hogwarts. I do not wish my son to be influenced into sullying the purity of his bloodline by reading stories that promote wizard-Muggle marriage.

"How dare he hear someone else's opinion on something," James mocked.

My refusal to remove the book from the library was backed by a majority of the Board of Governors. I wrote back to Mr. Malfoy, explaining my decision:

So-called pure-blood families maintain their alleged purity by disowning, banishing or lying about Muggles or Muggle-borns on their family trees. They then attempt to foist their hypocrisy upon the rest of us by asking us to ban works dealing with the truths they deny. There is not a witch or wizard in existence whose blood has not mingled with that of Muggles, and I should therefore consider it both illogical and immoral to remove works dealing with the subject from our students' store of knowledge.4

"And Malfoy didn't take to this idea? What a genuine astonishment," Sirius said dryly.

This exchange marked the beginning of Mr. Malfoy's long campaign to have me removed from my post as Headmaster of Hogwarts, and of mine to have him removed from his position as Lord Voldemort's Favorite Death Eater.

"A children's novel got those two started against each other," Lily said deadpan.

"Ah, it would have been something, I'm happier it's something memorable," James rolled his eyes.

"Oh look, they're are notes at the end of this one," Lily said in surprise.

"The man has notes on his notes?" Sirius demanded in disgust.

1Professor Beery eventually left Hogwarts to teach at W.A.D.A. (Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts) where, he once confessed to me, he maintained a strong aversion to mounting performances of this particular story, believing it to be unlucky.

Harry blinked slowly at the mention of that, suddenly a world of questions about other wizarding schools popping to mind he'd have to ask about later. He was more surprised than anything Sirius hadn't gone there.

2 See Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them for a definitive description of this curious beast. It ought never to be voluntarily introduced into a wood-panelled room, nor have an Engorgement Charm placed upon it.

"Anyone sensible could have told them that," Remus rolled his eyes.

3 Professor Kettleburn survived no fewer than sixty-two periods of probation during his employment as Care of Magical Creatures teacher.

"Kettleburn just got better in my memories!" Sirius burst out laughing.

His relations with my predecessor at Hogwarts, Professor Dippet, were always strained, Professor Dippet considering him to be somewhat reckless. By the time I became Headmaster, however, Professor Kettleburn had mellowed considerably, although there were always those who took the cynical view that with only one and a half of his original limbs remaining to him, he was forced to take life at a quieter pace.

"A shame, we might sympathize with Hagrid more since Kettleburn seems exactly like him when he started," Remus chuckled.

"On the plus side, if the pattern continues, hopefully that means Hagrid will continue to mellow out as well," Harry said with a wry smile.

4 My response prompted several further letters from Mr. Malfoy, but as they consisted mainly of opprobrious remarks on my sanity, parentage and hygiene, their relevance to this commentary is remote.

"I disagree, those sound extremely relevant!" James protested.

He was ignored as Lily told this one was done.

HPHPHPHPHP

*First and only time, hopefully, I'll have to edit these books for my purposes. The actual line is 'one-time' member of the board, but of course he hasn't been taken off yet. I believe the timeline of Dumbledore writing for this happened sometime between books two and three, when he was still looking for the other Deathly Hollows as a side project, but due to the purposes of this fic it's obviously been modified a bit more.

#The Life That Never Lived #Harry Potter #reading the books #fanfiction #Marauders #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter #the tales of beedle the bard

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years

Text

Dance of the Spheres Chapter 3: Mercurian Merengue

Chapters: 3/?

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, forced marriage

Characters: Loki(Marvel),

Additional Tags: Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:

Starlight

I will be chasing a starlight

For the rest of my life

I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore

Our hopes and expectations

Black holes and revalations

Muse-Starlight

You awoke in tremendous pain. That wasn't actually too unusual; you'd run out of your pain medication recently, and hadn't had the money to refill your prescription. It was far worse today though, and you groaned. It felt as if you had been dragged backwards down a flight of stairs.

You were having a hard time moving, like you were trying to swim through thick mud. Limbs heavy, and bones feeling like plastic, you rolled onto your side.

You were still wearing your leg. Weird. You almost never fell asleep with that thing on anymore. You must have had one hell of a night. Where had you been?

That's right! Your spineless boss had fired you. Fuck. Had you gotten wasted or something?

No.

No, those G-men had nabbed you! They drugged you with something. No wonder you were so sore and groggy: You were wasted, and those assholes had probably handled you like a sack of potatoes. You were likely covered in bruises now.

You slowly pried your eyes open to be met with an unfamiliar, dimly lit room, mostly unfurnished and uniform. There were no windows, but two doors; one open and leading to what appeared to be a restroom, and one closed.

There was an end table next to you that looked to be made of stone, with shelves carved into it. A cup of water and a plate with apple slices rested atop it. You were suddenly overtaken with hunger and thirst, having no idea how long you'd been asleep. You snatched up a slice of apple and stuffed it in your mouth, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

The bed was also made of stone, though covered with a soft mattress and warm blankets. You didn't see your cane anywhere. The bastards probably left it in the alley. You leaned against the wall instead. It was also stone, as was the floor. Everything in the room, in fact, aside from the apple, water, mattress, pillow, and blankets, was made of stone blocks, flawlessly smooth and perfect. It was a creamy gray-white mostly, with a line of pale orange blocks at about hip level.

The light came from hidden fixtures, affixed into the walls near the ceiling, covered with what appeared to be carved panels of cloudy crystal. It was lovely, and very foreign.

Where were you? You shoved more apple in your mouth, and took a swig of the water.

How odd. The apple was truly delicious, better than any you'd ever had. The water tasted of absolutely nothing. The room also smelled of nothing, nor did the hospital gown you realized you were wearing. You had been changed while you slept. Distressing.

You sat back down on the bed and ate. The apple was gone all too soon, but you were still hungry. That was nothing new. In your life, sometimes it came down to medical expenses or food. At least you'd had an apple and a cup of water. In a situation as uncertain as this, you would be glad to have had it.

But why were you here? Those two men had kidnapped you, for sure, but to what end? What for? Because you were an agitator? You'd heard stories recently about community organizers being targeted, grabbed off the streets and tossed into vans, or yanked from their own homes in the middle of the night. You weren't important like that though. You didn't organize, you just marched. You had no power, no voice, no following. You just marched. You'd borne the brunt of police brutality along with thousands of your fellows across the country, but it wasn't as if anybody knew your name.

Why had they taken you? And so violently? So brazenly? What did they want from you?

There was a light knock at the door, and you jumped in surprise, toppling over with a curse. Two people rushed into the room, and to your side, expressing concern. You flailed at them, trying to bat them away until you realized they were attempting to help you. You allowed them to haul you to the bed and sat yourself down.

“Who are you?” You demanded. “What do you want from me?”

They were children, basically. A girl and boy, teenagers. The boy had a basket on his back.

“I'm Bjarkhilde. This is Andvarri. I am an apprentice healer, and he is an artificer.”

“I've come to measure your leg, my lady.” Andvarri said politely, setting his basket on the stone end table. “We intend to make you a new one. Lighter, more functional.”

“M-my leg? A new leg? Why?” This was baffling. Why kidnap you, just to send children to see to your medical needs? “No...No. Don't touch me. What do you actually want? Who do you work for?”

The teenagers glanced at each other in clear confusion.

“We work for...the healers? And the artificers?” Bjarkhilde said.

“And ultimately the Crown?”

“What crown? What do you want? I said don't touch me! Get away from me! I'm not giving you anything!” You snapped, slapping their hands away.

Bjarkhilde grabbed Andvarri and his basket.

“We should come back later.” She said, dragging him back out the door.

It was fine. You didn't trust them. They worked for whoever had kidnapped you. You didn't owe them the time of day.

You didn't even know the time of day.

The outburst had left you worn out, that and all the sudden movement, and whatever drug was left in your system. You sat back down on the bed, head swimming. Were there guards outside the door? It didn't seem to be locked. Maybe you could find a nurse and ask for help.

You hobbled to the door, out into the hallway. But the sudden brightness of the lights out there hit you like a punch in the head, and you stumbled.

Someone caught you before your face smashed on the stone floor.

“Careful love.” That someone said. You blinked, eyes dazzled. “You might not be in the right shape for exertion just yet.” The voice was low, and carried the echo of a growl, but no anger. Whoever it was lifted you effortlessly into his arms, and carried you back to the stone bed and the dim light.

“Oh, you've already eaten the whole thing.” He said. He must have meant the apple. “That was faster than I expected. I would have liked to feed it to you myself, but...Oh well. This will speed things along, though it might be more unpleasant than it would have been if you'd eaten it over the course of a few days.”

“What are you talking about?” You demanded. He had taken a seat on the stone block end table, a crow against the creamy walls. Or maybe a magpie, as he was pale about the face and hands, but black accented with green everywhere else.

“I've given you a gift.” he said with a little smile, but gave no other information.

You scooted to the opposite side of the bed.

“Where am I?”

He blinked, the smile fading. “You are in Asgard, of course.”

The words almost slid off of you, they were so ridiculous. Asgard? Asgard was a mystery. It barely existed. It was nothing more than a collection of cosmic refugees who had been granted land to rebuild by the U.N.-but no one seemed to know where. No one was reporting new neighbors building alien architecture. No extraterrestrials were walking into local coffee shops after a long day of work. No one even knew where they could be. Even the remotest islands could be contacted, even Antarctica could be seen on Google Maps. But the greater public had found nothing.

The Asgardians had a spaceship that came for supplies every now and then, but it seemed to have some kind of invisibility device, because as soon as it lifted above the clouds, it would disappear, undetectable by telescope or radar, to fly off to whatever secret stronghold they had been granted. No one was able to trace its movements back to its home.

It made sense, of course. If Asgard wasn't hidden, they would be plagued constantly, by curious humans, by horny humans, by worshipful humans, by hateful humans, by vengeful humans. Asgard was a source of great controversy. The people of the God-Hero Thor, greatly beloved and celebrated. But also the people of the Mad Conqueror Loki, loathed and feared. What if more of these Asgardians turned out to be like him? That was the great worry of most of Asgard's detractors. What if there were more Lokis? Even though Loki had been declared dead years ago, what if he had a following?

“Why am I in Asgard? Why did you kidnap me?”You demanded. What could Asgard possibly want with you? It made no sense at all.

The magpie's eyebrows were practically beetled now. “Kidnapped? You were kidnapped? By whom?”

“What do you mean 'by whom'? By you! Your goons!”

“I don't have goons! And I didn't authorize any kidnapping! I thought it was just some Earth custom!”

“Earth custom? Custom for what? Why could Asgard possibly want some drugged out woman? Wait, are you after human slaves?”

“No!”

“You are, aren't you? Well guess what, fucker; you got fleeced. Whatever you paid for me, it was too much! I'm completely worthless!” You yanked up the hem of your hospital gown. “Check that out, eh? No leg! And on top of that, I'm incredibly disagreeable! No friends! No cheery personality! Totally worthless. Good job, asshole! You're getting nothing outta me!”

“Don't say that.” He said, rounding the bed. You scooted back to the other side.

“Sucks to be robbed, doesn't it?” You taunted.

“No, don't say you're worthless. You're not worthless!” He insisted.

“You don't know that. You don't know anything about me.”

“I know you are strong and resilient. You walk on a leg that isn't there, like an Asgardian warrior. Are you in pain? Please, we can make medicine for you. Let me help you!”

“You just stay over there!” You pointed at him, as if to keep him at arm's length. It worked too; he came no closer than the end of your fingertip. “If I'm not a slave, then I've got rights. You owe me big time, buster! You owe me answers!”

“Anything you want.” He said, hands up in front of him in a placating gesture.

“Alright. We'll start with...Who are you?”

He gave you an absolutely dumbfounded look.

“You don't know? How can you not know? Did they tell you nothing?”

“I already said I was kidnapped! You think I had a nice conversation with them?”

He shook his head, disbelieving. “Something is very wrong. Please, will you tell me what happened? From your perspective.”

“My perspective? Hmph.” This guy was acting so clueless, it was almost insulting. “From my perspective, I went into work in the morning, and by noon, I'd been fired. My boss said it was because of my arrest record, but it wasn't.”

“Arrest record?” Now he sounded scandalized.

“It was bullshit. I was at a march a couple months ago, and one of the cops sent to break it up shoved past me and tripped on some garbage. Started shouting that I'd knocked him down. Me! He dropped me on my ass and started hitting me with my own cane. Right up until my leg came off, which I guess startled him, because he stopped doing it. His buddies still came over and arrested me. Against the law to get my own ass beat, I guess. They let me go the next day, because there were a thousand phones on them and the video was everywhere, from all angles. Still had to fight to get my leg and cane back. Damn cane was a little bent since then, but it's gone now.”

The man simply stared at you, expression of shocked outrage stretching his features.

“Your lawkeepers attacked you for no reason?”

“Oh no, there was absolutely a reason. To send a message. 'You aren't people, and we will hurt you to keep it that way'. They've been sending that message for decades, but they've really ramped it up over the past couple presidential administrations.”

“Unacceptable.”

“True. But it's a lie. That's not why I got fired, or else it would have happened after I was released. No, I was fired because two MIBs came in and said so.”

“MIBs?” The mans slowly growing confusion was reaching his voice now, driving it upward.

“Men in Black. Nameless, no I.D. government agents, meant to be secret and interchangeable. They came in about lunchtime and pressured my boss to fire me. And he caved fast.”

“The spineless wretch!”

“That's what I thought too! Lower and middle management are a bunch of wet noodles. Mouthpieces. So I grabbed my stuff and left. That bitch Betty smirking the whole way.”

“Betty?”

“Don't worry about her; her kids are all gonna leave and never talk to her again as soon as they turn eighteen. But those sleazy G-men stalked me, and dragged me into an alley, and drugged me. And then I woke up here. In...Asgard? You said Asgard, but why? Why would anyone in Asgard wanna kidnap me? I'm no one worth kidnapping. I'm not even worth selling, especially not to some fairy tale kingdom. Why am I here? Tell me why I'm here!”

The strange magpie man had slowly sunk down to sit on the opposite end of the bed-still at arms length-and picked at his palms, staring down at them like he was about to cry.

“This is terribly wrong.” He said quietly. “It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I don't understand. This was a clear attempt at reconciliation, a grand opportunity to form powerful links between our peoples. Why sabotage that? Why do this? You are not even related to your nation's ruler, are you?”

“We don't have a ruler!” You insisted. “We have a temporary leader who is supposed to be democratically elected! I don't care what that guy thinks, we are going to keep fighting his takeover at every turn! And no, I'm not related to that dictator wannabe, I think I'd die of shame!”

“I see...so it was a sham from the beginning. I have been duped by your shame leader. I, of all people. And what of you, my dear? Caught up in all this, without any choice of your own. But it's already done. I can't take it back now. What terrible situation have we put you in?”

“That's what I'd like to know.” You said. He sounded remorseful, but he still hadn't answered your questions. “Who are you, and what is all this about?”

“My dear. My poor, sweet dear. I am so sorry. I can't undo it now. Please, please, I know this may come as a shock, but please do not be afraid.”

“Way too late.”

“I know. I know. I'm sorry.” He stood, formal and imposing. “My name is Loki; I am the Crown Prince of Asgard. And I asked not for a slave, but for a bride.”

#danceofthespheres #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

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midrashic · 4 years

Text

rules. it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

i was tagged by the amazing lavender-lotion, who has written a ton of wonderful stuff this year! i did look at fics i wrote throughout the year (17!) but my five most recent fics are genuinely what i’m most proud of. i don’t know if that means i’m improving or what, but it’s a good feeling to look back on your work and feel grateful that the output of all that time and effort seems worth it. (no writing is wasted etc. but! some writing is especially not wasted.)

in order, with the fic i’m most proud of coming last:

AN AMATEUR PSYCHIC’S GUIDE TO REMEMBERING WHAT WAS LOST

x-men | cherik | 32k

Hong Kong, 2011. Erik Lehnsherr lives in limbo: scrounging up money to pay rent from gambling dens or the scrapyard, not using his psychic powers, not dealing with his PTSD. When a teenage fellow psychic shows up at his shithole apartment with a get-rich-quick scheme, he's pulled into a world he thought he left behind—a world of brutal powers, deadly government experiments, and a mysterious man with a suitcase who is going to change his life… again.

for cherik big bang 2020 | this is a fusion with the terrible 2009 chris evans movie push, & it was a lifeline when i was grappling with writing my original idea for the cherik big bang. this is a fun exes-reuniting story about psychics, and i had a great time with the settings, the formal elements, & the way the plot entwined with charles and erik’s relationship.

THE WAY THIRST HOLDS WATER

x-men | erik x hank | 3k

"I'm not hiding," Hank said. Erik laughed, like rusty bells jangling. "McCoy, you're always hiding."

for @librata-laments‘s birthday and trans appreciation week day one: coming out | smutty pre-cuba plane hatesex featuring trans!erik & trans!hank. this turned out so much better than i expected it would, & i fell in love with this version of erik.

AS CLOSE TO HELL

james bond | 00q | 19k

O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. —Romeo, Romeo & Juliet I.v.114-115

for the mi6-cafe’s occult october | part ii of conjurings series | i was very proud of the first installment in this series, featuring medium!q & ghost-hunter!james and based off of the conjuring movies; it was also an occult october fic and the first thing i wrote when i really started getting serious about making time for fandom in my life. if possible, i’m even prouder of this one. it’s got epistolary elements, has more of an action plot than its predecessor, & a few tropes that i love, and if the commenters are to be believed, that readers love too.

OTHER FUTURES THAN THESE

x-men | cherik | 81k

In which Cuba doesn't break them apart, but that doesn't mean that their futures are tied together. (Except that it does.) A Days of Future Past AU where only one person can defeat the Sentinels and save the future: the man whose imprisonment and torture created them, and Charles Xavier's ex.

i will always think of this as my first genuinely long fic. it was also the first i posted on a set schedule, the first fic i wrote out of order, & my first cherik fic. i really enjoy the classic time travel fix-it nature of this fic, and if this remains my most popular cherik fic, i think it’ll be for good reason. just a rock for me throughout this year.

A KRITIK OF PURE REASON (THE SUITS REMIX)

x-men | cherik | 27k | warning: references to child sexual abuse

Texas: When Erik and Charles collide during their senior year of high school, they swiftly find out they make the perfect debate partners. But as secrets come out—and as they draw inexorably closer—more turns out to be at stake than the State championship.

for x-men remix 2020 | i have wanted to write a debate au since i was in the sherlock fandom c. 2013, so actually sitting down and writing it--with inspiration taken from my own cx debate years & ben lerner’s the topeka school--was intimidating, exhiliarting, and ultimately felt so good. the charles & erik that ended up taking form were intense, both in their passion for debate and each other, in a way that really gets to the core of what a lot of people find appealing about high school aus, i think--that feeling that everything matters so much, that feeling of being rubbed raw by the world.

tagging! @castillon02, @solarmorrigan, @ato-the-bean, @insertmeaningfulusername, @hellfre, & @ikeracity!

#beyond words #how's my driving #fic: an amateur psychic's guide to remembering what was lost #fic: the way thirst holds water #fic: conjurings #fic: other futures than these #fic: a kritik of pure reason #auld lang syne

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cupidscrystals · 5 years

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Hey! I hate to bother you, but I was wondering if you could expand on vampire lore behind Romulus? He’s a super interesting character and I’d love to hear more about vampires in the HP world!

:O !!! I’d love to! Here are some of the more important lore me and my good friend @meadowslittlebug came up with! Please go check her out, her art deserves more attention and she’s a wonderful person!

Vampires, Dhamphirs, and Vampire-borns

Two vampires who produce a child with the magic gene, this child called Vampire-born. This is the result of one or both parents having wizarding ancestry. If there’s no wizard ancestry in their bloodlines the child is called a Vampyr. The vampire-born and vampyr have a slow growing process, reaching the maturity of their bodies around 160 and 200 years old. They share the same traits as their turned brethren. A child of a human and a vampire or a human and a part vampire is called a Dhampir. Dhampir’s are only given to those who are at least ⅛ vampire. Some will always inherit vampiric traits such as sharp facial features, fangs, oddly coloured irises, an allergy to garlic and silver, and a repulsion to werewolves, but the rest of the vampiric traits are selected at random.

Aging

Newborns: They are newborn vampires. Their abilities are very limited.

Fledglings: They are Junior vampires a.k.a Vampires in training. A Fledgling learns how to control their thirst and hunting instincts along with gaining the ability to turn into a bat at will. Usually an older vampire is the mentor of the Fledglings and they can have more than one mentor. Mentors are usually the parents.

Matured: Fully grown vampires. They are the most common types of vampires found in the known world. They can turn other mortals into vampires.

Elder/Ancient: Vampires that are over 1000 years old, usually these ones are highly respected by the vampiric community, usually Elders hold positions of leadership. These are the ones that look less human-like and more like a real vampire.

[Picture: Top - Matured vampires, Bottom - Elder/Ancient vampire]

Vampires age MUCH slower than normal humans. 10 human years is equivalent to 1 vampire year.

Diet

Vampires can only drink blood. If they consume other kinds of food or drinks, their bodies will react violently until they expel all the contents. It was believed that human blood was necessary in the survival of Vampires, however vampires simply need blood, any kind of blood to keep their strength up. Such examples are animals. Human blood is just more nutritious and better tasting than animal blood. Vampires living on a diet of human blood will need to drink less than vampires living on a diet of animal blood.

Biology

• Vampires possess anticoagulant in their saliva that helps the blood keep flowing after the incision was done.

• Quick regeneration after an injury.

• They hiss at each other to mark dominance or as a warning sound.

• During their first few centuries they can reproduce, but after that period of time they become sterile and only can turn humans into vampires.

• Vampires can live without drinking blood for a couple weeks, but if the being haven’t consumed blood in a while, their appearance will age quickly and look more like a living corpse and more prone to act feral.

• Instead of water-based tears, vampires cry blood tears.

• Some vampires can have black scleras. Mostly the older generations, however it can be passed down.

[Picture: Black scleras]

• No vampire or part vampire has brown eyes. The only vampires that can have brown eyes are the ones that were turned. This is the #1 technique used to identify true vampires and human-turned vampires. True vampires can have eye colours ranging from blue, green, red, pink, orange, and purple. They NEVER have yellow eyes as that is a distinguishing feature of werewolves and part werewolves.

[Picture: Vampire eye colours]

• Enhanced senses.

• Enhanced strength, speed and agility.

• Being able to float and fly unassisted.

• Able to shoot plasma balls, this skill must be trained and only temporarily paralyzes prey

• Sunlight doesn’t kill them but they get burned pretty badly, feeling as if they were being burned to the bone, they can regenerate when they are in the shadows again.

• Since they are nocturnal creatures they are very sensitive to any source of light and can be temporarily blinded.

• Can only be killed by a wooden stake to the heart

• Silver is a ‘pure’ metal and makes vampires get burned or have bad allergic reactions.

• A Werewolf bite can be fatal to vampires. The Toxin from the werewolf and the venom in the vampire blood cause a reaction that makes the vampire deteriorate and die.

• Crucifixes and holy symbols is ambiguous, they produce a cringey effect in vampires but also there’s also a few that likes to see crucifixes, usually those have an inclination for liking the suffering.

• Poisoned or disease ridden blood ( sickness or toxic substances) will give the vampire a stomach ache.

Races & Branches

Humanoid: The newest generation of vampires, with their attractive features some can mingle between humans unnoticed, and some may resemble a typical vampire that it’s very obvious. Characterized for having pale skin, bright and odd eye coloration, fangs, as well as sharp features. (ex: European vampires, Jiangshi)

[Picture: 1 - Humanoid vampires, 2 - a Jiangshi (Chinese vampire) and European vampire just vibing]

Ancient: One of the oldest generation of vampires. They are older than 1000 years old. Around the age of 1000 their bodies change to a less humanoid features and have features such as longer ears, balding, bigger and longer fangs. Due to their age, ancient vampires are more reclusive compared to other races and don’t interact fully with the outer world. They wait until their prey is close enough to ambush.

[Picture: Ancient/Elder vampires]

Feral: Vampiric beast-like monsters or creatures that attack without distinction at humans and animals alike. Usually is known for attacking livestock. Some examples of these creatures are the Sasabonsam and the Chupacabras.

[Picture: Left - Sasabonsam, Right - Chupacabra]

History

Before 1811 (or early 1800s) , humans and wizards alike used to hunt vampires for sport. They mainly targeted the old and elderly vampires (over 1000 years old) and would bring home their decapitated heads as a trophy. The reason behind this was because the older vampires looked less human like than the younger generations do so it was easier for Muggles and Wizards to see them as an non-human entity. Most of the older vampires they slaughtered were of high position as they were elders, kings, queens, and other members of the royal vampire court. Because of the fact that vampires are immortal and time passes way differently in their perception, a lot of vampires today are still enraged at wizard kind because they were alive before they made vampire slaying illegal.

During the 1700s, the fear of vampires were at its highest point. People were stabbing the recently deceased with wooden stakes to prevent them from potentially turning into vampires and were insanely paranoid about them. They did all they could to protect themselves and their families from vampires. Vampire slaying was also at its peak, especially since wizarding ministries were promising people rewards of 200 galleons PER VAMPIRE slain. The vampire community combated this with trying to turn as many humans and wizards into one of their own in an attempt to repopulate and give them a taste of what it feels like to be treated badly. This is an extremely important time in history and is addressed as The Great Vampire Revolt. Again, most vampires alive in the present day were alive when all of this took place.

Given the frictions between the vampire and mortal community in the past, having relationships between both communities was frowned upon. If a vampire married a mortal, the vampire must make a choice, turn their loved one or must abandon the vampire community until the spouse is dead. However their offspring was well received, but part human part vampire offspring are pretty rare in present day. Other reasons as to why they are not common is because of the biological differences between the human and vampire causing problems conceiving or early infant hood death.

Monarchy

A Vampire Monarchy is a vampire who rules over a country. The vampires of a country form the Vampire Monarch’s Kingdom or Queendom. It is overseen by the Monarch, who also has authority over his or her vampire subjects. Although the countries are under complete reign by their individual monarch, they still remain under the jurisdiction of the Vampire Council in the Vampire Hierarchy.

The Vampire Council was a clandestine council that is composed of eight of the most politically powerful vampires in the known world. It is the ultimate authority over all vampires across the globe, overseeing matters of both religious and political purview in relation to the vampire population. It was worshiped by many and feared by even more.

[Picture: Members of the vampire council]

A vampire is granted the title of king or queen if they are in line for the throne and the current king or queen passes away or abdicated the throne. Upon the death of the reigning monarch, the Vampire Council will appoint a new king or queen. Vampires can also earn titles such as duke and duchess, baron and baroness (or thane), viscount and viscountess, count and countess (or earl), baronet and baroness, imperial knight and lady, or gentleman and gentry. by doing a very significant or impressive act to be granted a title. These royal titles can vary and differ depending on geographical locations.

Vampire Academies

Since the vampire population is much lower than the wizards there are not that many educational institutions for them to attend. The only ones we came up with so far is that there is one in Transylvania, Romania, Russia, and China.

Fun Facts

• Some may say that they have a ‘not giving a shit’ way of life and only care for their interests and brethren. For example they are not phased by murders of species out of their own kind (I mean they’ve been drinking the blood of humans since the beginning of time), one’s sexuality, or most things deemed dangerous by mortals. After all they gave bigger thing to worry about, like how they’re gonna acquire their next meal and figuring out how to enter places without being invited inside.

• Their pupils are slit shaped and the iris in different bright colors

• They can’t be killed by the killing curse, only stabbing them through the heart with a wooden stake (preferably made from wood of a peach tree. Any other wood will result in a slower death while peach tree wood will cause an instant death)

• There’s a vampire transcontinental championship where vampires from all over the world compete to see who’s the fastest flyer. For centuries, Asia has been taking first place.

• They sleep with their arms crossed over their chest. It doesn’t matter if they’re hanging upside down or in a coffin or laying on a couch, they’ll always end up in that position.

• They can hang upside down from any ceiling

Alright, that’s only a small part of what we have come up with, but if you have any questions about ANY of the lore or vampires in the HP universe in general, feel free to shoot me an ask!

Picture sources (I do not own any of these pics)

What We Do In The Shadows (2014)

Interview With a Vampire (1994)

https://pin.it/af6yidekumfffx

https://pin.it/cqa35xsnbcripc

https://pin.it/7upbmlapsy4ux3

https://pin.it/xxisghgdhy3qn2

https://pin.it/dpekjlnmh6xzfs

https://pin.it/ae2urdc3schf2q

https://pin.it/7en7bwce5uzm45

https://pin.it/kix6a5urpzq2wu

https://pin.it/nzn43moq3rypeb

https://pin.it/efm7amzuam3fle

https://pin.it/4hzqh4tzpghgph

Vampire Kingdom

https://trueblood.fandom.com/wiki/Vampire_monarch

#harry potter #hp #hphm #hpma #wizarding world #vampire #vampire lore #hp headcanon #harry potter headcanon #wizarding world of harry potter #wizarding world lore #cupidscrystals #what we do in the shadows #wwdits

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letterboxd · 4 years

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Watching John Malkovich.

To understand better why Letterboxd members set out on quests to watch specific actors’ entire filmographies, we invited Tim Rod to describe her dangerous and seductive journey through John Malkovich’s screen history.

For many film lovers, 2020 has been a year of catching up: on franchises, on directors’ filmographies, on historical gaps and top 100s. But for some Letterboxd members, the year indoors has been an opportunity to hyper-focus on a single actor and their work.

Jeremiah Lambert is on a Bacon Fest, Naked Airplane has embarked on a wild ride through the works of De Niro, Hackman, Hoffman, Nicholson and Pacino. Joey is preparing for next year’s centennial of The Kid by churning through Charlie Chaplin’s catalog (with David Robinson’s biography Chaplin: His Life and Art in hand). A quick Twitter survey found others churning through a performer selection as wide-ranging as Burt Lancaster, Parker Posey, Maggie Smith, Nicolas Cage, Cary Grant, Kevin Costner, Robin Williams, Adèle Haenel, Alan Arkin, Sam Rockwell and a Seth Rogen thirst project.

It can be a bumpy journey. In one performer’s oeuvre the quality will range widely, the genres too. But the rewards are many in a close study of craft, and there are revelations, whether it’s that Australia’s Miranda Otto deserves more recognition, or it’s “the total acceptance, lack of judgment, and vulnerability with which Alan Arkin has played so many of his flawed and wonderful characters”.

With Christian Bale in ‘Empire of the Sun’ (1987).

In 2020, no fewer than three movies and two television series starring John Malkovich have been released: Arkansas, Valley of the Gods and Ava, as well as The New Pope and Space Force. The legendary actor has kept himself busy, and I know this because I have seen most of his filmography—41 films and two series—in the span of a single month. I adore Malkovich, always have, and I came out of this experience with a deeper admiration for him, and with some thoughts about his unique, remarkable skills as an actor. (And, I had a really good time.)

Allow me to begin by saying that John Malkovich is the best part of every movie he is in. No matter the movie, Malkovich will always steal the spotlight, and he can turn a good movie into a masterpiece, or an average movie that wouldn’t catch anyone’s attention into one worth watching, if only to see him do his thing.

He’s starred in movies that are considered masterpieces by many: Being John Malkovich (1999), The Killing Fields (1984) and Empire of the Sun (1987). Movies that may be considered the opposite of masterpieces, like Supercon (2018), Eragon (2006) and the most recent Ava (2020), and he’s also starred in some gems that I knew nothing about but am glad to have discovered, such as The Convent (1995), Eleni (1985) and The Ogre (1996). Malkovich has brought to life iconic characters including Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Tom Ripley, Hercule Poirot (in BBC’s The ABC Murders), the artist Gustav Klimt, and several of David Lynch’s people, in the short film Psychogenic Fugue (2016).

As Mitch Leary in ‘In the Line of Fire’ (1993).

Malkovich has received two Academy Award nominations, for Places in the Heart (1984), in which he played Edna’s lodger, the solitary yet kind Mr. Will, and for In the Line of Fire (1993), where he played the complete opposite: the psychotic Mitch Leary, determined to kill the President of the United States. Though Malkovich is not a classic action-film actor, his work in that genre is driven by logic, intellect and emotion, and the delicacy that he employs to challenge concepts of masculinity and keep us guessing. His soft and collected voice threatening Clint Eastwood over the phone is scarier and more effective than a deeper one would have been.

That voice. Malkovich has admitted that he hates the sound of it, that he would always avoid listening to it, just like so many actors avoid watching their own films, but I’m bewitched by his voice and I could never get enough of it. It can be tender, sweet and calming, seductive when the role requires it, and terrifying. With that versatility, it’s not surprising that he has done some narrating work as well, for films including Paul Newman’s The Glass Menagerie (1987) and Alive (1993).

Malkovich is at his best when seduction and villainy combine, as they do in Dangerous Liaisons (1988). Vicomte Sébastien de Valmont has been performed by many actors over the years, but I find Malkovich’s take to be the most memorable and exquisite. He captures perfectly the depravity and evilness of Valmont, but also the nuances, his journey from womanizer to man genuinely in love and, ultimately, his tragic redemption. He even brings a comedic aspect to the character that adds more depth and dimension.

With Glenn Close in ‘Dangerous Liaisons’ (1988).

Valmont is an awful human being, a monster even, and yet, every time I watch this movie, I find myself fascinated by his mastery of the deception, his sensuality and complete control of the situation, until the situation is “beyond his control”. In her review of the film, Catherine Stebbins calls John Malkovich “a sexual force of nature”, and I completely agree. If you want to see more of Malkovich’s sensual side, other notable mentions include The Sheltering Sky (1990), The Object of Beauty (1991) and Beyond the Clouds (1995).

And then there’s Being John Malkovich (1999), in which ‘John Horatio Malkovich’ displays so many facets of his craft. The fictionalized Malkovich is possessed by different characters, one of them a woman. Catherine Keener’s character falls in love with a subtly different version of Malkovich, when he is a vessel for Lotte (Cameron Diaz). Even though Lotte doesn’t have full control of Malkovich, he uses his femininity to bring the character-inside-the-character to center stage, delivering a subtle-yet-perfect performance. Even when we don’t see Lotte, we know she’s there.

John Malkovich as John Horatio Malkovich possessed by Lotte, in ‘Being John Malkovich’ (1999).

Not many actors could pull this off as brilliantly as John Malkovich does. To be fair, not many actors have been given the chance that Spike Jonze and Charlie Kaufman gave Malkovich: a film with his own name in the title.

I’ve discussed some of the most well-known of Malkovich’s performances, but I’d like to mention an overlooked one that I found heartbreaking and noteworthy. I didn’t know of the existence of The Ogre (1996) until I took a closer look at Malkovich’s filmography. It’s not without its flaws, but I found myself absorbed in the fairy-tale story of Abel, a naïve French prisoner of war who is taken to Nazi Germany and used to recruit children for Hitler’s Youth. Once again, the actor’s duality is on display, as Evan writes in his Letterboxd review: “Malkovich is both queasy and endearing as the (ig)noble simp who just wants to save the babies.” The Ogre tells a tragic story, but thanks to Malkovich’s tenderness, we can’t help but have sympathy for his character. At times it reminded me of the innocence of Lennie in Of Mice and Men (1992), another of the actor’s more noteworthy performances.

One of Malkovich’s great contributions to cinema is elevating an average movie just by being in it. One such role is as English conman Alan Conway in the bizarre true story, Colour Me Kubrick (2005). Malkovich admitted in an interview that he thought his performance was good, and I agree. If there’s one reason to watch that film, it’s to see Malkovich playing an eccentric conman who poses as Stanley Kubrick, using different voices and accents. As TajLV writes, “if there were anything to commend this film other than Malkovich, I’d happily rate it higher”.

As Alan Conway in ‘Colour Me Kubrick’ (2005).

One fun fact: I sometimes forget John Malkovich is American. Maybe it’s because he has starred in many European productions—out of the 41 films I watched, 18 were European. Malkovich is of European descent, has lived in France for a decade and speaks fluent French, which allowed him to star as the mysterious Baron de Charlus in Time Regained (1999), with entirely French dialogue. He also delivers lines in French and Portuguese in A Talking Picture (2003) by Manoel de Oliveira.

You’ve probably heard Malkovich use words, expressions and even entire lines of French dialogue on more than one occasion. He does this often, which gives him a certain European vibe, consistent with his own character, mannerisms and dress sense—elements that he sometimes brings to his characters. Maybe that’s the reason he has played so many intellectuals and artists: professors, scientists, detectives, painters, writers, a scientist and a robot, and even the Pope… It seems there’s nothing John Malkovich can’t do, including directing.

To end my marathon, I watched his directorial debut, The Dancer Upstairs (2002), an assured movie adapted from a novel about the Maoist uprising in Peru in the 1980s, starring Javier Bardem. It was a nice surprise, and a strong start to what could have been a career as a film director, if not for the fact that he doesn’t have the patience to do it again. I recently read an interview where Edgar Wright revealed advice he always gives to directors, which is to make their second movie the one that will define them. I wonder if we will ever see John Malkovich’s second film, but for now, I hope he keeps gifting us with more unforgettable performances. At least we know that in the distant future, along with all the movies he has already appeared in, people will enjoy a never-seen-before performance when Robert Rodríguez’s short 100 years is released in 2115.

If there’s one thing I have learnt after watching most of his filmography, it’s that John Malkovich is one of the best and most versatile actors of our time, with the most unique voice I have heard in cinema, and with a rich filmography that encompasses every genre. And he’s not only a brilliant actor, but also someone I find personally fascinating. I truly find comfort in him. I hope we all get to enjoy his art for years to come, because his talent is limitless and I know he still has so much more to give. John Malkovich deserves all the praise for being a force of nature in the theater and film industry for over 40 years.

Tim is a Letterboxd member based in Spain, who has recently moved on from her John Malkovich marathon to a Sacha Baron Cohen quest.

#letterboxd #letterboxd community #john malkovich #actors #actor #acting #craft #acting craft #dangerous liaisons #most watched actor

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kyokkou · 4 years

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nation ‘powers’ and the two japan personifications; - or: the post i said i’d make days ago.

when it comes to this sort of thing, i don’t like to go overboard. even this much is going overboard; making kiku half-inugami was not a decision i made lightly, or for the sake of making him special without any further explanation. i wanted him to have a legitimate reason to exist outside of the imperial period and outside of hikaru’s mind, where he’d always been in the first place. i also wanted to tie it into japanese folklore somehow-- which was difficult, as it’s a topic i know almost nothing about. i had help from friends in this, and am taking some artistic liberties based on the fact that aph and similar “nation rep” concepts are themselves fictitious and can have any manner of origin and ability.

kiku does not have many abilities to speak of; i wouldn’t even call his massive appetite an ability or a power, but a result of his time as an empire having a constant thirst for expansion. he can still put massive amounts of food away, and i really am not joking when i say that he could eat a whole cake on his own. at one point it was funny, but eventually it just made sense. he eats a lot. but he often doesn’t express his hunger to others; telling hikaru would have made it burdensome especially as the war went on and food became more heavily rationed. presently, hikaru has probably already found out about it, but only very recently, probably in the 2000s or 2010s. he also has a wide range of foods he enjoys, not just food that originated in japan. of course, that’s his favorite, but he’s a bit of a junk food junkie, and consumes fast food on a frequent basis compared to the average citizen-- especially because of his proximity to the us fleet activities in yokosuka. it is literally a six minute drive from the jmsdf yokosuka district headquarters and there is a mcdondald’s and a chili’s there. he has bad choices to make!

the one ability that i consider wild which he does have, inherited from the inugami, is a passive one. he doesn’t even realize he has it, nor would he believe in it actually being real. he does not see supernatural creatures until very recently, and even then... it’s limited to their house spirit. and when i say very recently i mean within the year as he only recently began to attend the shrine with hikaru. and at first, he thinks she’s just some girl from the children’s school who is over every day to do homework with them. anyway, the ability he inherited was wish granting-- to make it simple. it’s actually more complicated than that:

your wish had better be very specific or you get whatever it sounds like without context. 笑 he also has to secretly want it; for example, the way that honoka came into existence. it was a challenge; “oh? you think you can stop the restoration? i would love nothing more than to see you try. i would win.” well, sakura wanted to stop him incredibly badly, too; she wished she could have someone as a contender who could stand up to kiku before he got too powerful.

surprise, you are now the proud siblings (?) of a fourth personification, the republic of ezo, and her name is honoka. it happened the same way that inugami took hikaru’s wish for someone to take his trouble from him and kiku’s wish to protect hikaru. they both got what they wanted, but it did not turn out in an ideal way. you get what you ask for and now you must live with it.

other than that, abilities kiku has are limited to a good sense of hearing and smell. he really isn’t that special. animals tend not to like him, akimitsu (his own son!) calls him demon, and he’s been chased out of shrines by priests both during his time as the rep of the empire, and in the present. his appearance is the thing that is most visibly impacted by his origin, and even then, there exist many ways to cover up his red eyes and red markings, so he does.

hikaru is able to sense other nations visiting, but it’s often just an ominous, anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach. he is also able to see all manner of creatures that are considered supernatural / folklore origins. this ability only disappeared from the 1900s until perhaps the mid 90s. it would have begun to fade out with the meiji era beginning, and was restored slowly as the heisei era began and progressed. the reason for this is because of how the state used the shinto religion at the time to push nationalist ideology of the empire, and emphasize the emperor as a divine being. this is still what kiku believes in and hikaru has been trying to push him towards actual shinto, not what has been since designated by historians as state shinto. it’s semi-working, of course, but it worked better on hikaru to gradually return to his traditions and thus gradually begin to see things the way he used to.

the canon idea that a creature, like a pet, who spends enough time around a nation rep will live an unnaturally long, if not immortal, life because of the proximity to the rep is one that i want to keep, actually. i think it’s an interesting effect of being a rep. this particular trait does not apply to kiku, only hikaru-- which is why both of their dogs have survived so long. hikaru was the one caring for them. :)

one non-ability/power that hikaru has is having almost-unnatural beauty; but it’s a gender neutral kind of beauty, there are feminine features about him and masculine features about him, but he’s very difficult to pin down sometimes. that would depend entirely on the person’s perception who is looking at him. because of his nature as the peaceful one of the two, the one who actually renounces war and fighting, one could say that his inner beauty is shining through the surface. on the other hand, he was put here by amaterasu, so his radiance could just be due to his sun-goddess origins.

☼

#✺ 「深い闇を俺は抜け出した。」 || headcanons;

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kvndeathmusic · 5 years

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my favorite records of the 2010s pt 1 (the less great stuff/honorable mentions)

Neither this post or its followup are going to be in any particular order, however all the records I talk about here are, in my opinion, not as good as the records i will talk about in my part 2. they’re all fantastic but these ones slightly a little less fantastic than the ones in my “top 10″. none of this is based on stuff like 'influence' or whatever other critics base their lists on, this is solely how much I enjoyed these records. And keep in mind, I'm only human, I havent listened to a good lot of records I've heard others describe as top 10 worthy, these are just records I found and that I resonate with. long post ahead.

Vacation - Bomb the Music Industry (2011)

If you asked me what my favorite band is i will either say bomb the music industry or jeff rosenstock, but considering those are pretty much the same things it doesnt matter lol. While Vacation isnt a perfect record, it is one I love. It lacks some of the ska elements that I love about earlier BTMI records, but at the same time, it is the first record where Jeff’s “””solo””” career sound starts to form in tracks like Sick, Later, Hurricane Waves, Everybody That You Love, Everybody That Loves You, and Vocal Coach. And these tracks are all fantastic, especially the absolutely explosive opener Campaign For a Better Weekend. Where this album suffers in my mind is the fact that it exists as a weird hybrid middle ground between BTMI and modern Jeff Rosenstock, it isn’t really ska like old BTMI and it’s not quite to the same standard as the tracks on We Cool?. And some of the songs are just, not as good as the others, like Why, Oh Why, Oh Why (Oh Oh Oh Oh), which is washed out almost entirely in reverb, and tracks like Savers feeling barren and missing additional instrumentation. But fuck man I can not dislike this record or just call it “ok” because despite this I still listen to this record a lot, it’s so catchy and fun and Im a bit too chronically addicted to btmi.

Reflektor - Arcade Fire (2013)

i dont really get the hate/mixed feelings others have with this record. there’s so many good tracks dude!!!! sure theres a bit of a slump in the middle and it doesnt reach the same emotional heights as their previous records you gotta be ignorant to overlook this records strengths. while i do like The Suburbs more than Reflektor, man i just vibe HARD with some of these tracks; the title track, We Exist, Here Comes The Night Time, Normal Person, Awful Sound (Oh Eurydice), Porno, and ESPECIALLY Afterlife. Plus the cover art is cool and I like it. However Flashbulb Eyes is one of the worst tracks Arcade Fire has ever put out and I hate it immensely. And while far less offensive, tracks like You Already Know, It’s Never Over (Hey Orpheus), and Joan of Arc are just kinda boring and/or uninteresting. Now granted, I'm extremely biased when it comes to Arcade fire in general unless were talking about the trainwreck that is Everything Now. I started listening to Arcade Fire just before Reflektor came out, and I have a kinda sentimental attachment to the record. ill explain the feeling more when i talk about The Suburbs. anticipation oooooo.

good kid m.A.A.d city - Kendrick Lamar (2012)

i might get crucified by some for not putting this in my top 10, but whatever come at me i guess. gkmc is a fantastic record, but i do think the ending is weak, which is why it’s here instead of in the top 10. i mean, let’s be real, Real is a mediocre track, and while Dying of Thirst is an important track to the whole narrative of the record, it feels way too long. almost everything else about this record is fantastic, from the beats, to kendrick’s nasally flows, to the overall structure of the record spinning a tale of a young man battling demons both inside and out, and his eventual redemption. even if i find this record at times to drop pace, it really is flawless otherwise. it felt like a disservice to put this in the 20-10s, bc it’s a good record, but i had to make some compromises and this was one of them.

RTJ2 - Run The Jewels (2014)

el-p and killer mike are a perfect duo, and the tracks they make together are always total bangers. and for me, RTJ2 is the best overall, with RTJ3 in a close second. it’s hard to put this on the lower half of the list, some of the tracks just don’t work as well as the others, but despite that there’s not really any tracks i hate or dislike on this record, minus maybe crown. the pure aggression in the opening track Jeopardy sets the tone for an aggressive yet highly focused record. This is some of the best rap out there right now if you want some music to fuck shit up to.

Pure Comedy - Father John Misty (2017)

This record is both hilarious and extremely bleak. Josh Tillman is a master of satire and sarcasm, and Pure Comedy is the peak of his songwriting skills. The title track is one of the best tracks of the decade, period. And he keeps up the momentum on the following few tracks. The main problem with this record is its weaker second half, but even then it’s criminal to suggest that those songs aren’t good regardless. And despite the bleakness, the one line that sticks in my head after all this time is the line this album fades out to: There’s nothing to fear.

Knife Man - AJJ (2011)

Continuing on the trend of folky, satirical, and bleak records, Knife Man is AJJ’s defining record (next to their debut LP). AJJ blends loud, punky anthems with quieter, folk tracks that touch on sensitive issues in a way only AJJ manages to get away with. And there’s some genuine heart mixed in as well, with the final track Big Bird always striking a chord with me. However, I do feel the record is, let’s just say, padded at times in my opinion. Still, I can’t deny how much i enjoy tracks like Gift of the Magi 2, Hate Rain on Me, The Distance, and Skate Park. Speaking of which when I saw AJJ live recently they played none of those songs and that kinda sucked but hey it was like $20 I can’t complain. And speaking of not getting what I wanted...

You Won’t Get What You Want - Daughters (2018)

It was hard choosing between this record and their 2010 self titled record, but in terms of the overall narrative and variety this record shines through. If there was a number 11 spot in this unorganized list this would probably take that spot. It’s noisey, it’s abrasive, and it’s like nothing you’ve heard before unless you’ve listened to Daughter’s previous records. Tracks like The Reason They Hate Me are catchy in the weirdest and most unwelcoming of ways, Less Sex sounds like a long lost Trent Reznor NIN track, and Guest House is a masochistic and gut wrenching finisher. Fantastic record aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

We Cool? - Jeff Rosenstock (2015)

It’s obvious that I had to include this record somewhere on these list. It’s like a more refined version of the sounds that Jeff experimented with on Vacation. Definitely more punk than ska, but still some of those roots still shine through, especially in the track Nausea. Some of Jeff’s best songs are on this record, from the loud opening tracks Get Old Forever and You, In Weird Cities, to tracks dripping with bittersweet and moody lyrics like I’m Serious, I’m Sorry and Polar Bear or Africa. The main reason this record is on the back end of the top 20 is because the deeper cuts on the record do not match the energy and heights of the best tracks. Tracks like All Blissed Out, The Lows, Darkness Records and Beers Again Alone don’t feel like they belong and stick out a bit. They remind me more of the material Jeff put out on his 2012 EP I Look Like Shit. Mind you they aren’t bad tracks, but I’ll be honest I skip them often when listening to the record because i just wanna get back to the good good stuff.

Sports - Modern Baseball (2012)

Sports is one of the best pop punk records ever, if you can even consider it as such. It’s like a blend of emo and folk punk, and it works so well. A good majority of this record is on my main shuffle playlist. Is it pushing boundaries? Not really, but tracks like Re-Do, Tears Over Beers, and See Ya, Sucker are undeniably catchy and memorable. I NEED MODERN BASEBALL BACK TOGETHER RN. There’s not really anything that wrong with the record, besides maybe lacking in variety, but at 30 minutes, it’s a record that feels nostalgic even on a first listen, and continues to feel that way even after numerous re-listens. Speaking of nostalgia...

The Suburbs - Arcade Fire (2010)

Some background, when I was 13 (circa 2013), I only really listened to whatever my parents put on for me. From my mom, I “inherited” a taste for classic pop and 80s new wave. From my dad, I got metal and hard rock. The first time I made the conscious decision to listen to a record fully, based on my own curiousity, was when I sat and listened to Sgt. Pepper in the summer of 2013, which broadened the scope of what I thought music could even be. And later that year, the first band I got into after The Beatles? Arcade Fire. When I think of my early teens, the memories are set to this record. I remember listening to Ready to Start in my brother’s old hot ass car while driving to the local fair with some friends on a chill fall night, eating tons of junk and staying up past midnight back when doing that was edgy and cool and not a symptom of my depression.

If I was judging this record solely by its best tracks, it would easily be in the top 3. But I couldn’t place it in my top 10 because, frankly, some of the deeper cuts are lacking. I can’t say I like Deep Blue. I really don’t like Rococo. And Half Light I kills the pace of the record. But man, that title track, Ready to Start, Modern Man, Empty Room, Half Light II, Sprawl II... these songs defined my early teen years. I still tear up listening to the title track. Sure I have to skip a few songs when I re-listen, but I can’t place it any lower or my heart will break. It existing outside of the top 10 already hurts. And that’s all that’s left now. The top 10.

But first, some random honorable mentions that didn’t make this list:

Sound & Color - Alabama Shakes

Black Star - David Bowie

Saturation II - BROCKHAMPTON

Melophobia - Cage the Elephant

Teens of Style - Car Seat Headrest

How to Leave Town - Car Seat Headrest

Daughters - Daughters

Sunbather - Deafheaven

Bottomless Pit - Death Grips

Year of the Snitch - Death Grips (should be on this list tbh)

Doris - Earl Sweatshirt

I Love You, Honeybear - Father John Misty

Helplessness Blues - Fleet Foxes

Plastic Beach - Gorillaz

Boarding House Reach - Jack White

POST- - Jeff Rosenstock

S/T - Joyce Manor

Firepower - Judas Priest

ye - Kanye West

KIDS SEE GHOSTS - KSG

You Were There - Kill Lincoln

Flying Microtonal Banana - King Gizzard

Infest The Rats’ Nest - King Gizzard

No New World - Mass of the Fermenting Dregs

Bury Me At Makeout Creek - Mitski

Puberty 2 - Mitski

Unsilent Death - Nails

Itekoma Hits - Otoboke Beaver

Morbid Stuff - PUP

A Moon Shaped Pool - Radiohead

RTJ3 - Run the Jewels

Angles - The Strokes

To Be Kind - Swans

Undertale OST - Toby Fox

Scum Fuck Flower Boy - Tyler, The Creator

Igor - Tyler, The Creator

Weezer (White Album) - Weezer

nightlife - yuragi

#music #2010s

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