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xoruffitup · 3 years

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Annette: The AD Devotee Review

So I saw Annette on its premiere night in Cannes and I’m still trying to process and make sense of those 2.5 hours of utter insanity. I have no idea where to begin and this is likely going to become an unholy length by the time I’m finished, so I apologize in advance. But BOY I’ve got a lot to parse through!!

Let’s start here: Adam’s made plenty of weird movies. The Dead Don’t Die? The Man Who Killed Don Quixote? There are definitely Terry Gilliam-esque elements of the unapologetically absurd and fantastical in Annette, but NOTHING comes close to this film. To put it bluntly, nothing I write in this post can prepare you for the eccentric phantasmagoria you’re about to sit through.

While the melodies conveying the story – at times lovely and haunting, at times whimsical, occasionally blunt and simple – add a unique sense of the surreal, the fact that it’s all presented in song somehow supplies the medium for this bizarre concoction of disparate elements and outlandish storytelling to all coalesce into a single genre-defying, disbelief-suspending whole. That’s certainly not to say there weren’t a few times when I quietly chortled to myself and mouthed “what the fuck” from behind my mask when things took an exceeding turn to the outrageous. This movie needs to be permitted a bit of leeway in terms of quality judgments, and traditional indicators certainly won’t apply. I would say part of its appeal (and ultimately its success) stems from its lack of interest in appealing to traditional arbiters of film structure and viewing experience. The movie lingers in studies of discomfiture (I’ll return to this theme); it presents all its absurdities with brazen pride rather than temperance; and its end is abrupt and utterly jarring. Yet somehow, at the end of it, I realized I’d been white-knuckling that rollercoaster ride the whole way through and loved every last twist and turn.

A note on the structure of this post before I dive in: I’ve written out a synopsis of the whole film (for those spoiler-hungry people) and stashed it down at the bottom of this post, so no one trying to avoid spoilers has to scroll through. If you want to read, go ahead and skip down to that before reading the discussion/analysis. If I have to reference a specific plot point, I’ll label it “Spoiler #___” and those who don’t mind being spoiled can check the correlating numbers in my synopsis to see which part I’m referencing. Otherwise, my discussion will be spoiler-free! I do detail certain individual scenes, but hid anything that would give away key developments and/or the ending.

To start, I’ll cut to what I’m sure many of you are here for: THE MUSICAL SEX SCENES. You want detailed descriptions? Well let’s fucking go because these scenes have been living in my head rent-free!!

The first (yes, there are two. Idk whether to thank Mr. Carax or suggest he get his sanity checked??) happens towards the end of “We Love Each Other So Much.” Henry carries Ann to the bed with her feet dangling several inches off the floor while she has her arms wrapped around his shoulders. (I maybe whimpered a tiny bit.) As they continue to sing, you first see Ann spread on her back on the bed, panting a little BUT STILL SINGING while Henry’s head is down between her thighs. The camera angle is from above Ann’s head, so you can clearly see down her body and exactly what’s going on. He lifts his head to croon a line, then puts his mouth right back to work.

And THEN they fuck – still fucking singing! They’re on their sides with Henry behind her, and yes there is visible thrusting. Yes, the thrusting definitely picks up speed and force as the song reaches its crescendo. Yes, it was indeed EXTREMELY sensual once you got over the initial shock of what you’re watching. Ann kept her breasts covered with her own hands while Henry went down on her, but now his hands are covering them and kneading while they’re fucking and just….. It’s a hard, blazing hot R rating. I also remember his giant hand coming up to turn her head so he can kiss her and ladkjfaskfjlskfj. Bring your smelling salts. I don’t recommend sitting between two older ladies while you’re watching – KINDA RUINED THE BLATANT, SMOKING HOT ADAM PORN FOR ME. Good god, choose your viewing buddy wisely!

The second scene comes sort of out of nowhere – I can’t actually recall which song it was during, but it pops up while Ann is pregnant. Henry is again eating her out and there’s not as much overt singing this time, but he has his giant hands splayed over her pregnant belly while he’s going to town and whew, WHEW TURN ON THE AIR CONDITIONING PLEASE. DID THE THEATER INCREASE IN TEMPERATURE BY 10 DEGREES, YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT IT DID.

Whew. I think you’ll be better primed to ~enjoy~ those scenes when you know they’re coming, otherwise it’s just so shocking that by the time you’ve processed “Look at Adam eating pussy with reckless abandon” it’s halfway over already. God speed, my fellow rats, it’s truly something to witness!!

Okay. Right. Ahem. Moving right on along….

I’ll kick off this discussion with the formal structure of the film. It’s honestly impossible to classify. I have the questionable fortune of having been taken to many a strange avant-garde operas and art exhibitions by my parents when I was younger, and the strongest parallel I found to this movie was melodramatic opera stagings full of flamboyant flourishes, austere set pieces, and prolonged numbers where the characters wallow at length in their respective miseries. This movie has all the elevated drama, spectacle, and self-aggrandizement belonging to any self-professed rock opera. Think psychedelic rock opera films a la The Who’s Tommy, Hair, Phantom of the Paradise, and hell, even Rocky Horror. Yes, this film really is THAT weird.

But Annette is also in large part a vibrant, absurdist performance piece. The film is intriguingly book-ended by two scenes where the lines blur between actor and character; and your own role blurs between passive viewer and interactive audience. The first scene has the cast walking through the streets of LA (I think?), singing “So May We Start?” directly to the camera in a self-aware prologue, smashing the fourth wall from the beginning and setting up the audience to play a direct role in the viewing experience. Though the cast then disburse and take up their respective roles, the sense of being directly performed to is reinforced throughout the film. This continues most concretely through Henry’s multiple stand-up comedy performances.

Though he performs to an audience in the film rather than directly to live viewers, these scenes are so lengthy, vulgar, and excessive that his solo performance act becomes an integral part of defining his character and conveying his arc as the film progresses. These scenes start to make the film itself feel like a one-man show. The whole shtick of Henry McHenry’s “Ape of God” show is its perverse irreverence and swaggering machismo. Over the span of what must be a five minute plus scene, Henry hacks up phlegm, pretends to choke himself with his microphone cord, prances across the stage with his bathrobe flapping about, simulates being shot, sprinkles many a misanthropic, charmless monologues in between, and ends by throwing off his robe and mooning the audience before he leaves the stage. (Yes, you see Adam’s ass within the film’s first twenty minutes, and we’re just warming up from there.) His one-man performances demonstrate his egocentrism, penchant for lowbrow and often offensive humor, and the fact that this character has thus far profited from indulging in and acting out his base vulgarities.

While never demonstrating any abundance of good taste, his shows teeter firmly towards the grotesque and unsanctionable as his marriage and mental health deteriorate. This is what I’m referring to when I described the film as a study in discomfiture. As he deteriorates, the later iterations of his stand-up show become utterly unsettling and at times revolting. The film could show mercy and stop at one to two minutes of his more deranged antics, but instead subjects you to a protracted display of just how insane this man might possibly be. In Adam’s hands, these excessive, indulgent performance scenes take on disturbing but intriguing ambiguity, as you again wonder where the performance ends and the real man begins. When Henry confesses to a crime during his show and launces into an elaborate, passionate reenactment on stage, you shift uncomfortably in your seat wondering how much of it might just be true. Wondering just how much of an animal this man truly is.

Watching this film as an Adam fan, these scenes are unparalleled displays of his range and prowess. He’s in turns amusing and revolting; intolerable and pathetic; but always, always riveting. I couldn’t help thinking to myself that for the casual, non Adam-obsessed viewer, the effect of these scenes might stop at crass and unappealing. But in terms of the sheer range and power of acting on display? These scenes are a damn marvel. Through these scenes alone, his performance largely imbues the film with its wild, primal, and vaguely menacing atmosphere.

His stand-up scenes were, to me, some of the most intense of the film – sometimes downright difficult to endure. But they’re only a microcosm of the R A N G E he exhibits throughout the film’s entirety. Let’s talk about how he’s animalistic, menacing, and genuinely unsettling to watch (Leos Carax described him as “feline” at some point, and I 100% see it); and then with a mere subtle twitch of his expression, sheen of his eyes, or slump of his shoulders, he’s suddenly a lost, broken thing.

Henry McHenry is truly to be reviled. Twitter might as well spare their breath and announce he’s already cancelled. He towers above the rest of the cast with intimidating, predatory physicality; he is prone to indulgence in his vices; and he constantly seems at risk of releasing some wild, uncontrollable madness lingering just beneath his surface. But as we all well know, Adam has an unerring talent for lending pathos to even the most objectively condemnable characters.

In a repeated refrain during his first comedy show, the audience keeps asking him, “Why did you become a comedian?” He dodges the question or gives sarcastic answers, until finally circling back to the true answer later in the film. It was something to the effect of: “To disarm people. It’s the only way I can tell the truth without it killing me.” Even for all their sick spectacle, there are also moments in his stand-up shows of disarming vulnerability and (seeming) honesty. In a similar moment of personal exposition, he confesses his temptation and “sympathy for the abyss.” (This phrase is hands down my favorite of the film.) He repeatedly refers to his struggle against “the abyss” and, at the same time, his perceived helplessness against it. “There’s so little I can do, there’s so little I can do,” he sings repeatedly throughout the film - usually just after doing something horrific.

Had he been played by anyone else, the first full look of him warming up before his show - hopping in place and punching the air like some wannabe boxer, interspersing puffs of his cigarette with chowing down on a banana – would have been enough for me to swear him off. His archetype is something of a cliché at this point – a brusque, boorish man who can’t stomach or preserve the love of others due to his own self-loathing. There were multiple points when it was only Adam’s face beneath the character that kept my heart cracked open to him. But sure enough, he wedged his fingers into that tiny crack and pried it wide open. The film’s final few scenes show him at his chin-wobbling best as he crumbles apart in small, mournful subtleties.

(General, semi-spoiler ahead as to the tone of the film’s ending – skip this paragraph if you’d rather avoid.) For a film that professes not to take itself very seriously (how else am I supposed to interpret the freaky puppet baby?), it delivers a harsh, unforgiving ending to its main character. And sure enough, despite how much I might have wanted to distance myself and believe it was only what he deserved, I found myself right there with him, sharing his pain. It is solely testament to Adam’s tireless dedication to breathing both gritty realism and stubborn beauty into his characters that Henry sank a hook into some piece of my sympathy.

Not only does Adam have to be the only actor capable of imbuing Henry with humanity despite his manifold wrongs, he also has to be the only actor capable of the wide-ranging transformations demanded of the role. He starts the movie with long hair and his full refrigerator brick house physique. His physicality and size are actively leveraged to engender a sense of disquiet and unpredictability through his presence. He appears in turns tormented and tormentor. There were moments when I found myself thinking of Conan the Barbarian, simply because his physical presence radiates such wild, primal energy (especially next to tiny, dainty Marion and especially with that long hair). Cannot emphasize enough: The raw sex appeal is off the goddamn charts and had me – a veteran fangirl of 3+ years - shook to my damn core.

The film’s progression then ages him – his hair cut shorter and his face and physique gradually becoming more gaunt. By the film’s end, he has facial prosthetics to make him seem even more stark and borderline sickly – a mirror of his growing internal torment. From a muscular, swaggering powerhouse, he pales and shrinks to a shell of a man, unraveling as his face becomes nearly deformed by time and guilt. He is in turns beautiful and grotesque; sensual and repulsive. I know of no other actor whose face (and its accompanying capacity for expressiveness) could lend itself to such stunning versatility.

Quick note here that he was given a reddish-brown birthmark on the right side of his face for this film?? It becomes more prominent once his hair is shorter in the film’s second half. I’m guessing it was Leos’ idea to make his face even more distinctive and riveting? If so, joke’s on you, Mr. Carax, because we’re always riveted. ☺

I mentioned way up at the beginning that the film is bookended by two scenes where the lines blur between actor and character, and between reality and performance. This comes full circle at the film’s end, with Henry’s final spoken words (this doesn’t give any plot away but skip to the next paragraph if you would rather avoid!) being “Stop watching me.” That’s it. The show is over. He has told his last joke, played out his final act, and now he’s done living his life as a source of cheap, unprincipled laughs and thrills for spectators. The curtain closes with a resounding silence.

Now, I definitely won’t have a section where I talk (of course) about the Ben Solo parallels. He’s haunted by an “abyss” aka darkness inside of him? Bad things happened when he finally gave in and stared into that darkness he knew lived within him? As a result of those tragedies, (SPOILER – Skip to next paragraph to avoid) he then finds himself alone and with no one to love or be loved by? NO I’M DEFINITELY NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT AT ALL, I’M JUST FINE HERE UNDER MY MOUNTAINS OF TISSUES.

Let’s talk about the music! The film definitely clocks in closer to a rock opera than musical, because almost the entire thing is conveyed through ongoing song, rather than self-contained musical numbers appearing here and there. This actually helps the film’s continuity and pacing, by keeping the characters perpetually in this suspended state of absurdity, always propelled along by some beat or melody. Whenever the film seems on the precipice of tipping all the way into the bleak and dark, the next whimsical tune kicks in to reel us all blessedly back. For example, after (SPOILER #1) happens, there’s a hard cut to the bright police station where several officers gather around Henry, bopping about and chattering on the beat “Questions! We have a few questions!”

Adam integrates his singing into his performance in such a way that it seems organic. I realized after the film that I never consciously considered the quality of his singing along the way. For all that I talked about the film maintaining the atmosphere of a fourth wall-defying performance piece, Adam’s singing is so fully immersed in the embodiment of his character that you almost forget he’s singing. Rather, this is simply how Henry McHenry exists. His stand-up scenes are the only ones in the film that do frequently transition back and forth between speaking and singing, but it’s seamlessly par for the course in Henry’s bizarre, dour show. He breaks into his standard “Now laugh!” number with uninterrupted sarcasm and contempt. There were certainly a few soft, poignant moments when his voice warbled in a tender vibrato you couldn’t help noticing – but otherwise, the singing was simply an extension of that full-body persona he manages to convey with such apparent ease and naturalism.

On the music itself: I’ll admit that the brief clip of “We Love Each Other So Much” we got a few weeks ago made me a tad nervous. It seemed so cheesy and ridiculous? But okay, you really can’t take anything from this movie out of context. Otherwise it is, indeed, utterly ridiculous. Not that none of it is ever ridiculous in context either, but I’m giving you assurances right now that it WORKS. Once you’re in the flow of constant singing and weirdness abound, the songs sweep you right along. Some of the songs lack a distinctive hook or melody and are moreso rhythmic vehicles for storytelling, but it’s now a day later and I still have three of the songs circulating pleasantly in my head. “We Love Each Other So Much” was actually the stand out for me and is now my favorite of the soundtrack. It’s reprised a few times later in the film, growing increasingly melancholy each time it is echoed, and it hits your heart a bit harder each time. The final song sung during (SPOILER #2), though without a distinctive melody to lodge in my head, undoubtedly left me far more moved than a spoken version of this scene would have. Adam’s singing is so painfully desperate and earnest here, and he takes the medium fully under his command.

Finally, it does have to be said that parts of this film veer fully towards the ridiculous and laughable. The initial baby version of the Annette puppet-doll was nothing short of horrifying to me. Annette gets more center-stage screen time in the film’s second half, which gives itself over to a few special effects sequences which look to be flying out at you straight from 2000 Windows Movie Maker. The scariest part is that it all seems intentional. The quality special effects appear when necessary (along with some unusual and captivating time lapse shots), which means the film’s most outrageous moments are fully in line with its guiding spirit. Its extravagant self-indulgence nearly borders on camp.

...And with that, I’ve covered the majority of the frantic notes I took for further reflection immediately after viewing. It’s now been a few days, and I’m looking forward to rewatching this movie when I can hopefully take it in a bit more fully. This time, I won’t just be struggling to keep up with the madness on screen. My concluding thoughts at this point: Is it my favorite Adam movie? Certainly not. Is it the most unforgettable? Aside from my holy text, The Last Jedi, likely yes. It really is the sort of thing you have to see twice to even believe it. And all in all, I say again that Adam truly carried this movie, and he fully inhabits even its highest, most ludicrous aspirations. He’s downright abhorrent in this film, and that’s exactly what makes him such a fucking legend.

I plan to make a separate post in the coming days about my experience at Cannes and the Annette red carpet, since a few people have asked! I can’t even express how damn good it feels to be globetrotting for Adam-related experiences again. <3

Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to ask me any further questions at all here or on Twitter! :)

*SYNOPSIS INCLUDED BELOW. DO NOT READ FURTHER IF AVOIDING SPOILERS!*

Synopsis: Comedian Henry McHenry and opera singer Ann Defrasnoux are both at the pinnacle of their respective success when they fall in love and marry. The marriage is happy and passionate for a time, leading to the birth of their (puppet) daughter, Annette. But tabloids and much of the world believe the crude, brutish Henry is a poor match for refined, idolized Ann. Ann and Henry themselves both begin to feel that something is amiss – Henry gradually losing his touch for his comedy craft, claiming that being in love is making him ill. He repeatedly and sardonically references how Ann’s opera career involves her “singing and dying” every night, to the point that he sees visions of her “dead” body on the stage. Meanwhile, Ann has a nightmare of multiple women accusing Henry of abusive and violent behavior towards them, and she begins growing wary in his presence. (He never acts abusively towards her, unless you count that scene when he tickles her feet and licks her toes while she’s telling him to stop??? Yeah I know, WILD.)

The growing sense of unease, that they’re both teetering on the brink of disaster, culminates in the most deranged of Henry’s stand-up comedy performances, when he gives a vivid reenactment of killing his wife by “tickling her to death.” The performance is so maudlin and unsettling that you wonder whether he’s not making it up at all, and the audience strongly rebukes him. (This is the “What is your problem?!” scene with tiddies out. The full version includes Adam storming across the stage, furiously singing/yelling, “What the FUCK is your problem?!”) But when Henry arrives home that night, drunk and raucous, Ann and Annette are both unharmed.

The couple take a trip on their boat, bringing Annette with them. The boat gets caught in a storm, and Henry drunkenly insists that he and Ann waltz in the storm. She protests that it’s too dangerous and begs him to see sense. (SPOILER #1) The boat lurches when Henry spins her, and Ann falls overboard to her death. Henry rescues Annette from the sinking boat and rows them both to shore. He promptly falls unconscious, and a ghost of Ann appears, proclaiming her intention to haunt Henry through Annette. Annette (still a toddler at this point and yes, still a wooden puppet) then develops a miraculous gift for singing, and Henry decides to take her on tour with performances around the world. He enlists the help of his “conductor friend,” who had been Ann’s accompanist and secretly had an affair with her before she met Henry.

Henry slides further into drunken debauchery as the tour progresses, while the Conductor looks after Annette and the two grow close. Once the tour concludes, the Conductor suggests to Henry that Annette might be his own daughter – revealing his prior affair with Ann. Terrified by the idea of anyone finding out and the possibility of losing his daughter, Henry drowns the Conductor in the pool behind his and Ann’s house. Annette sees the whole thing happen from her bedroom window.

Henry plans one last show for Annette, to be held in a massive stadium at the equivalent of the Super Bowl. But when Annette takes the stage, she refuses to sing. Instead, she speaks and accuses Henry of murder. (“Daddy kills people,” are the actual words – not that that was creepy to hear as this puppet’s first spoken words or anything.)

Henry stands trial, during which he sees an apparition of Ann from when they first met. They sing their regret that they can’t return to the happiness they once shared, until the apparition is replaced by Ann’s vengeful spirit, who promises to haunt Henry in prison. After his sentencing (it’s not clear what the sentence was, but Henry definitely isn’t going free), Annette is brought to see him once in prison. Speaking fully for the first time, she declares she can’t forgive her parents for using her: Henry for exploiting her voice for profit and Ann for presumably using her to take vengeance on Henry. (Yes, this is why she was an inanimate doll moving on strings up to this point – there was some meaning in that strange, strange artistic choice. She was the puppet of her parents’ respective egotisms.) The puppet of Annette is abruptly replaced by a real girl in this scene, finally enabling two-sided interaction and a long-missed genuine connection between her and Henry, which made this quite the emotional catharsis. (SPOILER #2) It concludes with Annette still unwilling to forgive or forget what her parents have done, and swearing never to sing again. She says Henry now has “no one to love.” He appeals, “Can’t I love you, Annette?” She replies, “No, not really.” Henry embraces her one last time before a guard takes her away and Henry is left alone.

…..Yes, that is the end. It left me with major emotional whiplash, after the whole film up to this point kept pulling itself back from the total bleak and dark by starting up a new toe-tapping, mildly silly tune every few minutes. But this last scene instead ends on a brutal note of harsh, unforgiving silence.

BUT! Make sure you stick around through the credits, when you see the cast walking through a forest together. (This is counterpart to the film’s opening, when you see the cast walking through LA singing “So May We Start?” directly to the audience) Definitely pay attention to catch Adam chasing/playing with the little girl actress who plays Annette! That imparts a much nicer feeling to leave the theater with. :’)

#Adam Driver #Annette #Cannes 2021 #driverdaily #Annette spoilers

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comehomeducklings · 3 years

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Present [Part 4] (Obsession)

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

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1943 ~ 6th year

“What would be the purpose of a wizard or witch to prepare a Polyjuice potion?” Slughorn asks. “Yes, Mr. Riddle?”

Tom drops his hand from the air, “The potion grants the drinker to take the form of another.”

“Yes! And what would happen if said drinker tried to transform into an animal?”

I know this one so I lift my hand.

“Go ahead.”

I clear my throat, “When the human drinker tries to transform into an animal they would not take its complete form. Only sections of said animal.”

Slughorn nods his head, “Can they reverse after a bit of time like normally?”

“No,” I answered. “It takes an extremely long time to wear off, and you might even have to go to the hospital wing.”

He grins and continues to write on the chalkboard. Even though he can enchant the writer's tool to note down itself, I’m guessing he prefers the old-fashioned way.

Tom and I are even on points. When he answers correctly, I also do right after him. I can see him noting down both our points on the corner of his parchment. The black tally marks standing out. Our points are on my paper as well, just in case he decides to cheat. No chances are being taken today, or tomorrow.

“How long does the potion wear off if made correctly?”

Riddle and I both shoot our hands up. His demeanor is calm and collected while I'm sitting on my feet to have my arm raised higher than his. It’s not very fair that his arms are the length of mine to the third power.

“Mr. Nott, what do you know?”

“A single dose could last from 10 minutes to 12 hours.”

Another question wasted by not getting called on. I don’t mind that much since it doesn't keep me behind. Riddle seems to care a little bit too much. His competitive side is showing and I guess his pal is ruining the race.

Professor stole our textbooks for this pop quiz. The rapid-fire questions should “already be memorized and known,” down to the molecular detail. My knowledge only goes so far.

I trust myself, to a point. There’s definitely going to be a question I get wrong and I’m already dreading it. Every answer that falls out of my mouth is examined and thought over ten times before the action of answering arises.

“For something a little different, Mr. Riddle come to the front of the classroom and write four ingredients that are needed for the potion.”

He stands up and pushes his chair in. His eyes as cold as The Black Lake. While he makes his way toward the board I cross my fingers, hoping he forgets one. I know that’s not the kindest, but nothing with him is necessarily “kind.”

There he goes, writing all four ingredients with ease. His handwriting is beautiful. How does he honestly do that? Does he practice every single day to get it that precise?

Maybe I should practice to improve as well. Honestly embarrassing how bad my handwriting seems next to his. We compared essays once, never again. That was the most embarrassing moment of my life. He just laughed at me and kept pointing out how weird my f’s looked.

I swear my letters weren’t that bad. It’s just that he overachieves everything. Now I rewrite every “f” letter that appears on my homework. Thank you for the new insecurity, Riddle.

“Very good! Very good, your turn,” he points towards me. “Three more ingredients this time.”

While I stand in front of the board, I check out what he has already put down. Lacewig flies, leeches, okay not bad. Knotgrass and the hair of the person the drinker will transform into.

He numbered them so I continued on from that.

5) Boomslang skin

6) Fluxweed

Last one, let's see. We already put Lacewig flies, Knotgrass, hair, the skin, and Fluxweed. I hesitate for a little bit, my brain working at high speed. Anxiety levels are higher than Mount Everest.

7) Powdered Bicorn Horn

There we go, I smile to myself proudly. When I turn back around my eyes meet his. He smirks and nods while he writes down a point for both of us. I’m not sure that it counts for four points, just one.

The questions go on for quite a bit. Our tally marks are piling higher and higher. Each of our count's neck and neck for the top spot.

“What is the brewing time?”

“About a month.”

“How does the potion look before the addition of the final ingredient?”

“Thick like the mud after it pours.”

“It also is bubbling.”

“How does it look after adding the final ingredient?”

“Depends on who the witch or wizard made the potion to look like.”

“Varies in taste and color.”

He seems to be done with questions so Tom and I start counting the marks. On my paper, I seem to be .5 points ahead of him. I quickly look his way to see him come to the same conclusion. He takes a deep breath and casts his eyes to the side. Tom then tilts his quill my way signaling that I did indeed win.

I’m about to squeal quite highly but then I recollect I’m in a classroom. Full of people who are terrified to be anywhere in this castle. That would be quite inappropriate of me so I keep my excitement to myself.

Professor Slughorn wipes the whole board away. Clearing all the information we were learning and reviewing about.

“When I pair you up, each of you will grab the right ingredients for this potion and lay it near the front of your desk,” he says. “It should be laid in the order you would normally use when making the concoction.”

“First up, Miss Horn and Miss Yellowbo.”

The classroom starts to move with life as students pair with one another. Some cheerful noises and annoyed ones from who they ended up with. Most of us here know each other. I don’t think I would mind having anyone in this room as my partner.

“Mr. Riddle and-”

Of course, it’s me. Starting to think the pairings’ on purpose. His face shines too brightly for it not to be well planned out. I make my way to the shelves to start out picking the ingredients.

There’s always a moment where my mind decides to give up on me. Most of the elements are obtained. A few are missing.

I’m going over the variety of bottles containing different substances when I feel a looming pressure on my back. An arm slightly grazes past my ear and picks up Fluxweed.

“How do you manage to forget the very ingredient you wrote down on the board?” Toms whispers right by my ear.

I shift my eyesight to the side to see him already looking at me, “Sorry, I blanked out a little.”

He starts seizing half of the ingredients into his hold. I don’t really mind carrying a couple, but I’m just left with one bottle after he takes most of my possessions.

“Taking all the credit now I see,” I tilt my head as I raise my chin to meet his tall build.

“You were about to spill everything. I’m saving you from embarrassment,” he responds cockily.

I started to argue but he already made his way back to the desk, “Everything was perfectly stable in my arms.”

He continues to ignore me and sets down everything. Including the one bottled ingredient in my hand that he snatched just a few moments ago.

“Nothing is ever perfectly stable with you.”

I’m about to whisper a word no children should hear before Slughorn makes his way to our table. Saving Riddle from my rising annoyance.

“Wonderful! You too got all of them perfectly,” he starts. “I would expect no less from my star students.”

All I do is smile brightly in respect. Trying not to drive any more attention to the outburst of pride he has for us.

“Thank you, professor,” Tom says. He starts picking the ingredients off of the table, still barely letting me take any.

Riddle just walks off while our proffesor continues around the room. When he comes back I just about finish wiping the desk of any accidental spills.

“I won our little game this time,” I nudged his shoulder with my own.

Tom slightly rolls his eyes with a small smile, “I see that you have. Just this one though.”

“And many more to come,” I exclaim.

Our attention seeks back to our teacher, “You’ll all be writing an essay about an imaginary way this potion could go wrong. I expect it to be turned in before class tomorrow.”

I hurry to get my textbook off of my area and head towards the back of the classroom near the doorway.

“Everyone split into two groups. This half will go with Riddle while the other is with me.”

I turn my head once more to look at Tom, he’s reassuring one of the students that they are going to be okay.

I only look for a couple of seconds before leading my half of the group out first. A few stops along the way to make sure perfects are keeping order. Most of my group of students have been dropped off. A couple still lures behind me, I picked them up as I worked my way through the castle halls.

They were also dropped off and now I scatter along the hallway to make sure everyone is where they are supposed to be. Like every other period, the routine stays the same mostly.

My robes have a few wet spots on them still from the tears of younger students attending this school. I fully believe it won’t be too long until the headmaster and the ministry deal with whoever is making our lives miserable here. The murders will surely not go unjustly.

As I am turning a new hallway I happen to meet up with Riddle.

“All good?”

“Of course,” he responds. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

He seems to look around quite a bit. Like he’s searching for something.

“Head back to your class, I will look around once more.”

That’s the last thing he says before moving around me with his hand on my shoulder. Quickly slipping past me.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“No, no no,” I whisper to myself as I crumple yet another paper in my hand. I throw it on the ground next to me and huff out a breath.

Writing this bloody essay is taking more time than I predicted. It usually comes naturally to me but I can’t seem to write correctly. Every time I make a mistake I have to start over again. My handwriting failing to write neatly for once.

My whole structure and information is already figured out. Writing is what’s taking me the longest. No matter how hard I try, the letters never seem to come out correctly from my quill.

Especially the f’s.

Infuriating really. I only have an hour left until the library closes. It already technically shut down but the librarian gave me an extra three hours as long as I lock up.

Perks of being Head Girl I suppose.

My head is in my hands as I compose myself. It’s late and I’m tired, it’s not even safe to be out at this time. At least if I happen to die I wouldn’t have to write this essay.

“How long have you been trying at this-” a low voice asks behind me.

I jump in my seat, “Oh it’s just you. Well, it’s been-”

“And failing?” Tom finishes as he takes the seat next to me. The chair turned slightly to me.

I roll my eyes and fall further back into my seat. My head turned upwards, admiring the flying books in the ceiling. Finding their place, their way home.

“Probably an hour and a half,” I sigh. “You’re completely right about how bad my calligraphy is.”

He just nods his head and takes a fresh new sheet from the middle of the table. His quill magically appears from inside his robe. All the papers that have the plans for my essay start to float around his head and workspace. Occasionally glancing up at them from time to time and then going back to writing.

His lips are pursed in concentration, “I write my F’s like this. It’s easier that way and extremely easy to practice and write quickly.”

My head peers over his shoulder as I watch him effortlessly indite.

“You try,” he opens up my fingers that were closing my hand and places a quill in them.

I furrow my eyebrows and start to practice my letters on a separate piece of paper that I originally scrapped. I don’t want to waste paper and there’s no reason to get a fresh new one.

We both work quietly in the night until the last few minutes of opening time. Before I left the room I saw him quickly go far back into the library. I never got to ask him why he arrived here so late.

Never saw the need to.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~ Taglist:

@empath-bunny

@jinxqsu

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obeiii-mee · 4 years

Note

Hey there! Love your writing. What about MC spending a whole day with just one of the brothers? Like you know, if the brothers were deciding what to do? Sorry if it’s too boring and romantic haha, I’m a lost case, I desperately need that night walks with Satan and working out with Beel in my life haha. Thanks xx

Same though. I love writing just typical HCs with the bros during date night or something. And I’m currently writing a few angst HCs so I really needed this too lmao. I hope you don’t mind these not being too long. I hope this satisfies you lol.

Enjoy!

——————————

The Brothers Spending a Whole Day with MC:

Lucifer:

-Mr. Prideful doesn’t take many days off

-But when he’s with you, he really feels like he can unwind properly

-Lucifer loves going on walks with you tbh

-He feels like it’s a nice break from all of his office work and meetings

-Sometimes the two of you end up in Majolish or a restaurant

-He definitely has a thing for spoiling you on days like these, because he feels he doesn’t appreciate you enough otherwise

-Like when he yells at both you and Mammon for doing stupid shit around Lord Diavolo

-The two of you could walk through the whole of DevilDom hand in hand if you had more hours in the day

-I see Lucifer as a bit traditional when it comes to dating so it’s obvious you’ll have movie dates and everything

-But a day off for him? With you? Away from his brothers, all of their chaos and the never ending attention his paperwork needs?

-It feels like he’s in the Celestial Realm all over again

-He does love you

-His past just doesn’t let him express his affection towards you very well

Mammon:

-If the two of you could spend the whole day together, there are only three places you could be at: Majolish, the casino or trying to make money for Mammon’s debts somewhere

-But it doesn’t really matter for him

-He could be stuck in a broom closet with you and still be happy (though he wouldn’t admit it)

-Spending a day with just him is bound to end in tears to be honest, on his part usually

-Because everything is going well and you’re having fun

-“Ah shit!”

-“Mammon you OK? What happened?”

-“I accidentally sold Lucifer’s gloves for 50000 Grimm!”

-How does one accidentally sell something?

-So he get a bit of an earful for that

-Other than that, being with the second eldest is crazy enough as it is

-You may have lost all that money at the casino but for the first time in a while, Mammon didn’t care that much

-Because you were there and laughing with him about how stupid both of you were

-You guys hit as many shops as possible and just generally have a messy, fun time together

-He often ends these days saying something like “You should be grateful that THE GREAT MAMMON agreed to let you tag along with him today.”

-But just kiss him on the cheek and he will shut up. For like hours. He’ll be too flushed to even look you in the eye

-He really wants to spend another day out with his human

Levi:

-Welp, life of a shut-in otaku

-It should be of no surprise that the two of you spend most of your time in his room

-It’s just the one place he’s most comfortable in and having you there makes it so much better

-Anime’s and video games are a must obviously

-But he loves doing movie marathons with you too (while loudly complaining the movie sucks and that you’re a normie for choosing it. Which means he likes it)

-Maybe a few good hours of him ranting about TSL because it’s Levi

-So the chances of you guys getting any sleep on said day are slim to none

-Also, if you agree to go to conventions with him, he will die of happiness

-On the rare occasion that he does go outside, he’s only out there because you went with him so that should tell you how much he loves you

-But most of the time you’re locked in his room to the point where Luci dearest has to come along and drag you the fuck to breakfast

-Ah, true love~~

Satan:

-I mean, this one should be pretty obvious too

-If he doesn’t enjoy dates in the library, then is he really Satan? (I never thought a sentence like that would ever be typed)

-Most of the time it ends with him reading to you because his voice is sO bEAutIful and you just melt when you hear it

-I will forever hc that he makes sound effects while reading too so imagine that

-You two don’t always get the chance to spend a whole day together

-But he tries to check in on you at least once a day

-*Cue romantic run through the house of Lamentation, trying to find you so he can gossip and bitch about Lucifer*

-Walks with him are very common too

-They usually take place at night, because he’s a sap and he read too many romance books and damn it kiss him already

-He would hold an umbreally over you if it started raining and everything

-Satan takes these moments to chat to you about anything, he just wants to appreciate you being there

-You guys made out several times while on these ‘walks’ ngl skskevshskbeuensb

-One time, you showed him a cat cáfe in the human realm and he went nuts

-Safe to say you’ve been there more times than I care to count, most of which were without permission

-A day with him can either go extremely calmly and end with you guys falling asleep on each other in his room or escalate to either pranking Lucifer or...steamier stuff

-Haha if anyone ever mentions he’s a cheesy bastard, they’re dead before they can say their prayers

-Except you, you get the pass on this one, tease him as much as you want

Asmo:

-Finally, he gets to have you all to himself without any of his brothers cockblocking him all the time~ (same tbh)

-The whole day would be planned from head to toe in activities and events

-It would start with some sort of makeover in the morning (getting your nails done, doing hairstyles, skin routine etc.)

-Then it would move on to some serious shopping sprees where he basically buys everything that he deems to be cute

-They’re for you 100% tho

-The day usually ends with you getting dragged to parties and clubs because Asmo can’t go a day without speaking to other people

-By the time you get home, you’re almost knocked out cold and carrying several bags full of clothes and shit

-But you can never say you didn’t enjoy yourself on these days

-Having Asmo around is exhilarating and somehow, even if crowds happen to not be your thing, it’s still really easy to have fun anyway

-There are times when the two of you stay at home and do each other’s nails and everything

-And you two are very fond of these sort of dates as well

-Of course, all of this assuming he won’t try to seduce you and get in your pants all day

-Turns our Mammon is somehow telepathically connected to you and rushes over any time this happens

-So much for not being cockblocked I guess

-He always switches things up as well which is usually very pleasant because you don’t visit the same shops or clubs every day

-Just be back by midnight or you’ll have your asses handed back to you otherwise

Beel:

-Beel loves you

-Beel loves food

-If those two happen to be in the same room, he might as well die peacefully

-It’s all he ever asked for (especially if Belphie is there too)

-Half of the day is spent at either Hell’s Kitchen or in your kitchen at home

-For him, the food always tastes better when you’re there so if you’re willing to go, then he’ll be like a cheerful puppy the whole time (how many times have I compared Beel to a puppy lmao)

-The other half of the day is spent training

-Work out sessions are important to him and he’s more than happy to let you join in

-If anything, you’ll be on his back as he does his push ups even though you’re not that heavy to him

-It sort of warms that demon heart of his because you’re always there handing him towels and water after he’s finished

-And you always have snacks prepared too which is wonderful really

-Kudos for being able to hide them from him the whole time

-It’s also not that surprising to know that you, Beel and Belphie hang out a lot

-So these days often mean that Belphegor tags along with you guys everywhere

-You won’t notice him tho, believe me, he’ll just stay attached to Beel’s back and sleep the whole time

-If he gets to spend a day with his loved ones, then Beel can honestly not ask for more

Belphie:

-“Belphie...?”

-“Yes MC?”

-“Is.....is that a pillow fort that’s almost as big as the attic?”

-“It is indeed.”

-“Why?”

-“Why not?”

-Tbh it would be a miracle if you two didn’t sleep the whole day

-But if he had to go somewhere with you

-It would be anywhere

-Much like Mammon, he couldn’t give less of a shit about the evironment as long as you’re there

-Chances are, however, that he will sneak you two to the human world a few times in secret

-He still insists he hates humans but truth is, he misses them and their realm

-Going back there, without permission the same way he did all those centuries ago, was like a breath of fresh air

-You guys would be chilling at a park in the human realm, probably make small picnic or something

-Belphie, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, loves these dates and would kill anything on his path if it meant he gets to be in your arms while taking a nap in the human world

-He invites Beel along too which makes everything so much better for him

-He will just fall asleep on you while you run your fingers through his hair

-Belphie is so warm too so it’s likely you won’t stay awake for long either

-Poor Beel has to carry both back to DevilDom but he does it anyway without complaining >:(

-He knows that he isn’t allowed to come up here and that he should stop these dates before Lucifer finds out

-But being out here with you brings him an irreplaceable meaning and you’re so soft and gentle, he can’t resist cuddling into you

-Also he doesn’t give a shit what Lucifer thinks

(Idk why my writing is so bad in this post, it kinda feels like I forced myself to write it and maybe that’s why..? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my mess of HCs)

Al~

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagines #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #⭐️ requests #☂️ demon brothers #🕯 general

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boys-from-santacarla · 3 years

Note

so i've never seen any fic or really anything for dwayne + paul so like maybe that idk--

Notes: Thank you so much for your request. 💛 And sorry if I made you wait too long. I have never read anything like this either, but I hope you like it. It was fun writing it tbh, so feel free to write a positive or negative feedback.

Warnings: Homophobia, homophobic language, cursing, a bit of explicitness in an attempt to lead to sex.

The Moralist (Dwayne x Paul)

Word Count: 1563.

The fourth night at stakeout waiting at the boardwalk was going just as usual; with David waiting at the corner for Star and Laddie to hopefully come back with a third individual, and Paul and Marko playing a stupid game to win a stuffed animal, with Dwayne as a keen spectator next to them.

When the game was over, both players started fighting.

"You cheating bitch! Everyone saw I was winning until you step on my foot!" Paul yelled.

"Maybe I did, but you started it by pushing me every five seconds!" Marko snapped back. Paul half-closed his eyes in anger and began to yell again when Dwayne got between the two.

"Ok, we get it. You both assholes are losers that need to cheat to win something." He laughed and the blondes protested with a loud "hey". He rolled his eyes and said "Move on."

Paul pointed a finger towards Marko and warned "You gon' pay, buddy." Marko gave him the finger and started walking backwards to play some more while showing off his brand new item.

"Hey, man, c'mon. Let's get a drink or something." Dwayne suggested still laughing.

After getting a tasteless six for the evening, both moved to a calmer side at the end of the boardwalk to sit down at some stairs. After all, when Michael appeared they'd hear David's bike.

"Dave's really into this guy." Dwayne said after taking the first sip of his beer.

Paul giggled "Who would've known his weakness were young and closeted curly brunettes."

Dwayne hummed his agreement. "I mean, he's kinda cute." He said and giggled, earning a funny look from his company.

"Don't tell me you have the hots for him too" Paul pleaded incredulous.

Dwayne shook his head "Nah, it's just..." He stopped for a moment to think about it. Michael was dumb, that was for sure, but he had this exciting... aura around him. And he was good looking too.

"I don't know" He finally stated and shrugged. "He's cute. That's all."

"Oh, Lord..." Paul shook his head in disappointment "We got us another fairy vamp."

Dwayne punched his shoulder. "You're such a homophobe. As if you and Marko didn't looked like fags." He teased and took another sip.

"Hey, man! He's the one who seems to like to get annoying just for me to be all over him!" Paul defended himself and was about to get another sip too when he processed Dwayne's whole saying "And I'm no homophobe!" He declared offended.

Dwayne gave him a skeptical look "You know..." he shrugged "they say all homophobes are closeted gays, so..." He unfinished the sentence suggestively.

Paul rolled his eyes and continued advocating his reputation. "I'm as liberal as the next guy. I could even kiss a guy and don't give any fucks." Dwayne almost spitted his drink with that last one.

"Yeah, sure." He murmured.

"I'm serious!"

Dwayne raised his head unconvinced "I don't think so. Your ego's far too sensible for that."

"It is not." Paul snorted.

That made Dwayne wonder, ok, so macho drama queen was liberal and respectful? Why not test the veracity of this?

"Fine. Then kiss me."

Paul turned to look at him disbelieving "I'm a lot of man for you, sweetheart." He said with smugness, but there was a slight quiver in his voice to denote his awkwardness.

Dwayne laughed "I knew it."

"Just because I won't kiss you doesn't mean I'm a damn homophobe. It's just that you're not my type."

"Because I'm a man." Dwayne persisted.

"No, because you're disgusting and ugly." Paul corrected.

But maybe it wasn't a bad idea.

Maybe it would be good to prove Dwayne, the big moralistic guru, that no sloppy kiss could hurt his masculinity. Cause that was the truth, wasn't it?

Paul sighed "You know what? Fine." He decided.

Dwayne shoot up his eyebrows.

Paul smirked "Come here and have a taste." He sensually invited and loudly smacked his lips.

Dwayne remained still for a moment, shocked that Paul was actually up for it. The hotshot couldn't let anyone patronize him, uh.

"Ok." He simply accepted and moved to accommodate his legs with Paul to get closer with each other.

Making eye contact, Dwayne, still a little unsure, put his big hand on Paul's waist while Paul placed with a bit of extra force his palm on Dwayne's cheek.

Then they brought their faces together and left nothing between their lips but an inch apart. So close that each could notice the other's dusty but fresh masculine scent.

"I still don't think you can handle this, bud" Paul whispered, lightly brushing his lips with Dwayne's with the movement.

Dwayne smirked with arrogance "Quitting?"

The blonde gave his negative with a low sound and moved his head to a side to fit his marginally parted lips with Dwayne's.

Both were taking this as a dare to press the other past his limits and make him step back, to leave clear who was the homophobe here. So why think of this wrong? It was just a kiss to prove who had the best manners. No more.

They stayed still for a moment, like a pair of kids having their first kiss. Not moving, just innocently touching lips. But none would step back and give up.

So, if a simple smash of lips was something both could stand, then they would have to take it farther. And it felt surprisingly easy.

Both moved their lips to taste better the other's flavor, and Paul moved his palm from Dwayne's cheek to his nape, slowly, caressing his soft skin, and feeling the light brush of his strands between his fingers. All this while Dwayne moved his hand from his friend's waist to his lower back, intently pressing them closer together and feeling Paul muscles flexing.

The kiss got sensual when feeling silly both opened their mouths and crashed together their tongues. The stubble definitely felt weird, both thought, and even though the hair could help imagine it was a girl, they could not forget it was a pal whom their were kissing.

But that didn't stopped them. Telling themselves it was because it was their job to make the other uncomfortable, they didn't broke the kiss. Just continued to move in a hot syntony sharing saliva.

So the sudden jolt Dwayne felt was justifiable, just as Paul's low moan was too.

It got rapidly heated. Both moving with more confidence, as if already knowing how to move in harmony with the contrary. Their lips began making smacking noises when one decided to venture and nibble a little.

Panting, their hands wandered more and traveled exposed spots of skin and leather.

Paul placed his free hand on his friend's thigh, caressing it while still moving his exploring tongue inside Dwayne's mouth. The hand on his back sent a cold chill on his spine and he felt his cock twitch. Dwayne's response was to moan a little and keep one hand on the wooden stairs to press Paul harder against him.

Lost in the track of time, the dare got out of control and they were both half-hard.

And both felt good.

Fuck, both felt good.

Paul's conscious abruptly came into play and he jumped as if burned, breaking the kiss in cold. Dwayne stayed in position until he reopened and focused his dark eyes on the blonde's. His puzzled expression was enough for him to react too.

In unison their heads turned to the side, trying to hide their dark red faces.

Dwayne cleared his throat "Uhm... that was... That was..."

Paul hesitantly wiped his mouth with the back of his wobbly hand, then glanced at Dwayne still looking anywhere else but at him and repeated his previous action, now with deliberated disgust.

"Repugnant. Nauseating. Ugh, I wanna puke." He stuck out his tongue.

Dwayne agreed "You're such a lousy kisser, man." He copied Paul's action and pretended to clean his lips.

There was an uncomfortable silence while they tried to recover and regain their prides. Dwayne was about to say something when unexpectedly Marko appeared from behind calling them. They turned their heads.

"Hey, guys! Michael's here. Let's go." He seemed oblivious, so he walked back to where he came from and didn't gave them a chance to respond.

Turning back at each other, they wanted to utter something, but just made eye contact, saying... what? "Don't worry, it was good, but I'm not telling, not even myself cause that makes me gay. Thanks for making my dick twitch, tho"?

Dwayne jumped to his feet.

"Well, now it's a fact that you're a homophobe." He teased, in an attempt to dissolve his odd feeling, but it didn't work. "So, I'll, uh, I'll get going, bro." He adjusted his jeans, climbed the stairs and resumed his natural cocky strut as casually as he could.

"Yeah." Was all Paul could say, almost inaudible. But that didn't matter.

He adjusted his pants too and got up.

Yeah, he liked kissing Dwayne, so what? It got a little out of hand and provoked a natural sexual response, right? He wasn't attracted or anything, right? He knew the guy was hot, but everyone with eyes could acknowledge that. It was no big deal. Cause he wasn't a fag.

Paul wasn't a fag.

He wasn't.

Damn.

#writing's not my thing but i like to try #the lost boys #dwayne x paul #dwayne the lost boys #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #my writings #gays being vamps

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emilbecker · 3 years

Text

— SELF PARA, 2019 CHARITY GALA.

marcus and emil meet for the first time. featuring jessica reyes & marcus reyes.

to both their reliefs, there had never been reason to meet. the two knew of each other, to emil, he sees a rich man with no heart, and no real desire to be liked. marcus sees someone with a little too much to prove, overcompensating. but for what, he hasn't cared to figure out.

it's through jessica that they meet. a charity gala that marcus dreads, but when has he ever not put on a brave face? marcus endures time wasting and frankly mind numbing circle jerking and chatting, mostly at his sister's vivacious side. without jessica to whisper amused judgements to as they move from group to group, marcus would be spending far more time in a bathroom smoking. it's the next group that makes his interest take a sharp dive. jessica speaks excitedly about emil becker, but more so their twin, penny. a name that's made its way into marcus' conscience on more than one occasion.

but it's emil who's most displeased about the two figures approaching, one considerably more so than the other. emil turns to penny with a laugh, effortlessly making his shit talking look like nothing of note at all. against his twin's ear, they whisper, “fucking pray for me, fuck this guy.” penny manages an equally unassuming laugh and shows off her mastered art of elbowing them without being noticed by anyone else. emil in turn, holds back a reaction to keep for later. maybe they'll mess up the letters on penny's fridge door next time they're over.

becker's and reyes' meet and two very different things happen. penny and jessica embrace and immediately their conversation turns to their outfits. emil and marcus however, are two fortresses in each other's way. marcus doesn't want to engage for jessica's sake, and emil for penny's (and their reputation for being the friendliest one in the room). there are far more traits shared than either would like to face: the violence; the manipulation; the lying. it's the worst of themselves that they share, but swimming around with all that horror, is their shared will.

but only one of them knows the full extent.

marcus faces death with arrogance, and it won't be his last time. the two exchange firm handshakes and bright smiles while their sisters forget their existence. it feels like a personal attack to emil, making a note to hide all the letters on penny's fridge for dumping him with marcus fucking reyes. rationality says penny couldn't be held accountable when she doesn't know the extent of marcus' crimes, but the sibling bond pushes rationality harshly to the side.

“wonderful to finally meet you!” emil lies, “marcus, isn't it?” emil sees the serpents grin they're met with for what it is.

“pleasure's mine, emil. i'm a big fan of your work,” marcus lies. in reality, emil is a bug who makes too much noise, and if that noise begins to follow marcus, he'll gladly crush the nation's darling under his heel.

can't say the same for you. emil grins with a modest and tolerable pride, but lets the faintest hint of condescension cling to his next words. “thanks. i love your jacket, who designed it?” intuition tells emil that marcus wouldn't appreciate them reaching for the intricately jeweled jacket and feeling over the patterns, so they do it.

“oh, it's balmain,” marcus responds through razor sharp, gritted teeth. the contact isn't appreciated but marcus doesn't allow himself to react other than let his sinister smile bloom.

“oh, balmain. didn't they put blackface on the runway this year? anyway, penny, are you seeing this?” emil calls over his shoulder, “i want a jacket like this.” penny shoots him a smile that emil knows the real meaning of, i'll make you something better. “really suits you, though, marcus,” even there, there's a hint of what can only be disgust. perhaps not even the immaculate emil becker can keep his contempt for people like marcus reyes at bay, at least not while anyone else is watching.

“that's very kind of you, emil, but please, the flattery isn't necessary,” he says graciously, hiding an avalanche of annoyance behind it, “but to contradict myself, really must commend you on the zuckerberg interview. you really fillited him like a fish.” he forces amusement on his features, eliciting an animated laugh from emil who throws their head back before their hand catches marcus' shoulder again. get the fuck off me.

“you have no idea how fun that was. this is top secret but i had to slip in a few questions that weren't ‘agreed upon’. makes for great tv, y'know.” emil's wink only proves to grate him further.

“your secret's safe with me, becker,” marcus teases with a smooth drawl, meanwhile trying to catch jessica's attention to give her the look of i'm tired of these people, let's move on please, but he doesn't catch her. is she avoiding his eyes on purpose?

“good man. oh! you're ravi's husband, aren't you? his style is really something else, i've not had that much fun talking about fashion with someone in years. will you tell him that? i didn't catch a way to contact him last time we bumped into each other. truly impeccable taste, that one. and i guess you, too.” another wink shows itself and marcus wants to rip it from emil's pretty features. “or i can save you the relaying and tell him myself,” emil suggests, pulling their phone from their bag with a smile marcus swears is patronising.

“why don't you give me your number and i'll pass it onto ravi?” marcus proposes sweetly, but emil sees the possessiveness, and it makes his already low opinion of marcus sink further.

“if you wanted my number, mr reyes, all you had to do is ask.” with a smirk, emil leaves his number in marcus' phone, not at all betting that it'll make its way to the intended recipient. and he's right. marcus will delete the smug talk show host's number in the car ride home.

finally, the sisters break away and relief washes over marcus and emil. marcus shoots jessica a quick look of how could you leave me with them for so long? while emil is relieved to have penny paying attention to him again.

“it was lovely meeting you, marcus. jess, it's a pleasure as always. we should go talk to my bosses, tryin' to drag this one on the show some day,” he says, nodding at penny, “send ravi my love!” with an air kiss blown to both reyes', the becker twins take their leave.

“don't leave me with him ever again. i mean it,” marcus grumbles as he and jess move in the opposite direction.

#( e.b. ) character study.#yeah i rlly wrote this bs instead of replies #here have your fake bitches

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

handmaid - 26

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, mention of weapons and gunshots

A/N: will i ever write a chapter without a musical reference? no as i literally cannot help myself.

NEXT CHAPTER

The night was like a warm blanket tonight yet the world somehow seemed wider, brighter as she laid against his chest, hearing his heart softly beating against his ribcage. The sound itself sent her in a spiral of her own mind, the sound itself proved he was alive, he was real and he was there. Laying down next to him was just the right thing to do despite it being at the same time the wrongest of all wrong things. Sure, this was the man Gwen had been promised to ever since she was born but at the same time whenever she was next to him he seemed like a completely different person than the mythical mob boss her mind had fabricated over the years. When she was next to him he was her lover and at the end of the day that was what overwhelmed her overall perception.

- What are you thinking about? - Sebastian slightly raised his head with precaution as to not disturb her. - You’re very quiet.

- Just basking in the feeling. - she looked up to him without really moving the rest of her body, hand remaining in its imaginary circle drawing. - We should probably return to doing what we were doing.

- I think there’s more boxes in the garage. - he sat up, arms wrapped around her figure so she didn’t fall off his lap and landed on the ground. If it was up to him, he would remain in that position for another hour with his nose buried in her hair smelling the scent of her fragrance mixed with her shampoo. - Maybe there’s something there.

- You don’t need to do this for me. - she pushed her hair to the side, cocking her head slightly as her hand searched the ground for her jumper which was colder than she would like due to the winter weather just outside. - I know you probably have your own business to take care of.

- I’m a good multitasker, my angel. - he kissed her naked shoulder before she slide her jumper on, shivering at the contact of her warm skin with the cold fabric. Y/N gave him a playful smile followed by a roll of the eyes before getting up, picking up his garments in the process and throwing them at him.

Smiling like a fool who just won the lottery, and in a certain way he sort of had, he got dressed up in the wrinkled clothes and wrapped his arm around her natural waist before leading her out of his office and into the life to the garage. If there was a room in the house that was always, if not ever since its construction, in chaos, it was the garage. Whatever he didn’t want in his home anymore or anything for which he didn’t have space, he would send it down to the garage which meant the room was filled to the brim with boxes and boxes along with some record books and more contracts, most likely belonging to his father as Sebastian prided himself in keeping an electronic copy of all his contracts, just in case. Y/N couldn’t help herself but sneeze at the amount of dust that had gathered over the years as she grabbed one of the boxes. Surely he had enough money to hire someone to clean it, however it seemed to always escape his mind.

Sebastian took the other side of the box created walls while Y/N started to go through the first box which weirdly was filled with clothes, children’s clothes. She cocked an eyebrow in confusion, but continued to go through the box’s contents, carefully putting the clothing off the box by her side until she reached a silver picture frame of a woman holding a baby whose gaze was somewhere else. She smiled at the warm nature of the photo which looked to have been snapped unknowingly. Her fingers traced the contours of the photo as she wondered who the two individuals were until she felt Sebastian’s hand on her shoulder.

- That’s my mother. - he pointed at the woman in the photo. - And that’s me.

- Why is this photo here? - she asked, turning her head to stare at him. Y/N knew Sebastian clearly had a soft spot for his mother as he spoke of her like any kid spoke of their parents, something that didn’t seem to occur whenever he mentioned his father whose relationship seemed to be more apprentice-master than father and son.

- In all honesty, I didn’t even remember it was down here. My father got rid of most stuff related to my mother after the divorce. - his hand left her shoulder as he took a seat next to her.

- You’ve never spoke to me about your mother. At least not a lot. - it was in her nature to be curious, she found the most she knew about people, the best she could connect and help them out. Sebastian normally would’ve taken curiosity at harsh value but whenever she asked him something, he couldn’t help but feel wrapped around her kind nature.

- Well, they got divorced when I was 6 or 7. Bad divorce, my mother didn’t have enough money to get a legal team so my father got everything, including me. One visit a year ... she ended up dying when I was 14.

- I’m so sorry, Seb. - she wrapped her arms around him, kissing his temple, trying to console him the best way she could. Sebastian however had closed that wound a long time ago and instead looked inside the box she was looking at, recognising most of the items as childhood belongings. With a curious look in her eyes, his hand rummaged through the box’s belongings taking an old teared by time stuffed bunny which gained Y/N’s attention. - What’s that?

- Oreo. - he said nonchalantly.

- Oreo? - she giggled. - It has a name? You don’t mean to tell me that the mob boss had a stuffed animal named Oreo.

- Mob bosses aren’t born mob bosses. - he put the stuffed animal back in the box. - I thought one of my kids might want it someday but if they’re anything like Gwen, I think they won’t want something this old.

- Right. - she swallowed her worries which kept telling her that she would never be the one to bore him a child. Mr. Williams words rang inside her mind like terrifying echoes. Mistress. Mistresses don’t get happy endings. - Well, you have good taste, Oreo is a great name.

- Good taste ... - his eyes seemed to rewind to a past time, leaving Y/N to look at him weirdly as he jumped on his feet to walk to a little shelf filled with books which turned to be photo albums. Looking through several pages in second-like intervals, he finally stopped in the middle of the album, a smile on his face as his memories proved right. Quickly moving towards the young handmaiden, placing the book in her lap. Her eyes glued to the photo which was of a round table filled with mostly men and little to no women, however, a specific woman stood out in the middle of everyone, a kind smile contrasting with the tight lipped smirks of the rest of the crowd. Around her neck a golden necklace just like the one which was wrapped around the young handmaiden’s neck. - I knew I remembered the name Robin.

- What happened to her? - Sebastian sadly couldn’t answer this question as he was rather young and most of the times forbidden to even be close to any of his father’s parties or dinners. Y/N flipped through the pages noticing she showed up in a few more pictures before completely disappearing. - She seems to stop appearing.

- Whoever she was, she was no mere worker. My father had a rather elitist taste when it came to who got to attend his dinners and parties. - the theory that her parents didn’t want her screamed at her again. At that point, it just sounded like the most plausible theory. Noticing this shift his attitude, Sebastian closed the photo album, putting it away from her. - You don’t need to keep going, angel. You turned out just fine without them.

- I know. - she forced a smile, trying to see if she could fool Sebastian but he was much too familiar with her characteristics to be easily fooled. Sighing, Sebastian took her hands in his, slowly yet surely getting her on her feet.

- I think that’s enough detective work for today. - he leaned down, pecking her lips two times, a smile on his face. Y/N nodded, thinking it would be best if she didn’t dig in the past and together they returned to the lift which took them back to the penthouse. The lift doors slowly open and Y/N noticed her suitcase standing slightly to the side of the lift. She didn’t think much of it knowing Sebastian to be a man who had man for everything so he had probably gotten someone to grab it earlier than mentioned. Even with that, she felt a somber heavy vibe in the air as she located her suitcase, something that seemed to push her down, like a weight. - Your suitcase is here.

- Oh ... I guess I should just unpack. - his words took her from the glued, almost hypnotic glare at her own bag. Sebastian shrugged, letting her do her own thing, only offering his help to help her move the suitcase into her bedroom to which she declined.

Her intuition was telling her to be careful and as such, she closed the door behind her immediately opening her suitcase. There was nothing odd about it, mostly filled with the clothes she had brought to the Forrest along with other objects and personal belongings. Still there was a heavy weight which seemed to grow heavier and heavier as she folded her clothes and put them back in her wardrobe which hit a climax as she noticed a piece of white like fabric right at the bottom of her suitcase. She took a step back however her hand leaned forward, her fingers lightly tracing the fabric as if the fabric itself were a bomb.

The fabric itself didn’t feel worn out and as she raised it into the air so she could inspect it better. It was an old fabric which at his prime was white but had started to grow slightly yellowish with the passage of time, the material of cashmere itself however still had the same comfort of a new one, almost as if it had never been worn. However, the most notable feature of the blanket was the cursive embroidery spelling Ella next to the silhouette of a robin. Without much thought to it, she brought the blanket up to her nose, inhaling what was reminiscent of fresh rosemaries on a hot summer day spent in a garden. Then out of the sudden, just as her nose sensed the scent of the blanket, a loud gunshot sound seemed to reverberate from the back of her skull to the front. She let out a scared scream, dropping the blanket on the floor as if the fabric was burning her hands. Her eyes scanned the room, looking paranoiacally for where the gunshot could’ve come for but there was nothing in her bedroom, there was no one in her bedroom. That was until Sebastian broke into her bedroom, black revolver set in the air to which she immediately put her hands up, noticing there were few tears rolling down her cheeks and meeting at her chin. Sebastian lowered his gun, after inspecting her bedroom for any threats.

- I heard a gunshot. - her breathe came rather harshly through her mouth, almost as if she had been holding in her breathe.

- There was no gunshot, angel. - his hands cupped her face, kissing the top of her forehead as she leaned into his embrace. - Your mind’s playing tricks on you.

- No, I heard it. - she heard it, she could still hear it ringing in her ears like a never ending sound. Sebastian’s lips tightened as he embraced her tighter, letting go of his revolver on top of her bed. - I heard it.

- I know, angel. I know. - he spoke very lowly, whisper-like even. - You’re tired, you need some rest.

- I swear I heard it. - she looked around, her eyes convincing her that there was no real danger but her mind telling her to keep her guard up, specially when the blanket on the ground caught her attention once more like a cursed amulet. Like a child, she hid from it on Sebastian’s shoulders, the contrasting cedar wood scent almost erasing the soft and fresh rosemary from her mind. She had heard it, she knew she had heard it. - Maybe you’re right, I just might be tired.

- C’mon, I can make you a cheese toastie. - he rubbed her arm soothingly, a inviting smile on his reddish pink lips which just always looked so inviting. - It’s gonna be alright, angel.

- Well, I’m surprised you can use a sandwich maker. - Y/N pushed the worries to the back of the brain, that part you only see when you’re trying to fall asleep or too lost in your own mind to visit those darkest parts which you hope disappear with time.

- I’m not completely incompetent in the kitchen. - she looked up at him, a seemingly calm smile masking all her worries. - I never set it on fire.

- What an amazing astonishment. - she giggled, a hand coming to stand in front of her lips.

- C’mon angel, let’s get some food in you.

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the-evil-authoress · 3 years

Text

GX Month Day 6: “Heartfelt Appeal”

You find two characters that click so well, look them up...and there’s no content! ‘Why?? Someone please make content!’ The pleas go unheard. You’ll just have to make it yourself. Show some love for your rare pairs today!

MORE FANTASYSHIPPING! 8D

Year 2’s Duel Monster Spirit Day! Friendly reminder that ‘Mana’ is the name Dark Magician Girl gave when she introduced herself to Syrus last year.

Colorful banners and streamers hang from the entrance hall once more, market tents set up in the main yard with flashy signs and flags announcing their wares or food or other activities. Syrus stares at it all with the same wonder as last year, and peers through the throng of students hopefully. His other friends have already gone off to find the activities they like best, be it duels or carnival games or the kissing booth, so Syrus is free to wander at his leisure and search.

It’s stupid, it’s silly, and Syrus still wonders if last year was a fever dream regardless of the way Christina keeps teasing him and the ghost of arms he sometimes feels around his shoulders. But still, he hopes and maybe this year he can confirm it for sure.

“Syrus!” a voice calls out that tickles his memory and Syrus swings to face-

“Mana!” Heat floods his cheeks. Dear Ra, did she get prettier or is he just hopelessly, stupidly crushing? “You...you just disappeared last time,” he squeaks out the first thing that comes to mind that isn’t a jumbled mess of pretty hug magic like, and wants to kick himself when Mana’s expression falls.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she says, looking so sad it physically hurts. “I didn’t want it to end that way. I lost track of the time and I wasted too much of it showing off.” Her voice turns a bit bitter before she shrugs it off and smiles again. “But not this time. This time you have my full attention.”

“No, no!” Syrus frantically waves his hands in front of him. “I didn’t mean- I what?”

Mana giggles and leans down. “Just for today, you have me all to yourself!” Winking, she taps his nose and Syrus wheezes as his heart makes a valiant attempt at pounding straight out of his chest. Leaning back, Mana clasps her hands behind her back. “So what do you want to do?”

“Ah, well, um, we, we could, we could check out the carnival games,” Syrus finally stammers out a full sentence. Gods he hasn’t been this bad about it since the beginning of the year!

Mana only giggles again as she takes his hand and heads off toward the game booths. “Don’t go hiding in a trashcan on me now.”

Syrus’ brain freezes for a full second. “YOU SAW THAT?”

“I see everything Chinatsu sees! Well, almost.”

Who the hell is Chinatsu?!

It takes a solid 30 minutes and two botched carnival games to finally work himself out of that last anxiety attack, but finally his heartrate feels normal and he doesn’t want to die of mortification. If he dies he won’t get to see Mana smile or hear her squeal over the stuffed Happy Lover she won from the last game. Her throwing arm is ridiculously good. She’s also amazingly child-like for...however old she’s supposed to be.

“Ooo! I wanna try that! I wanna try that!” she squeals, pointing animatedly at the food stall with an assortment of pastries. “The bean fishies! Chinatsu loves these! I always wanted to try one!”

Syrus orders them a taiyaki each and ends up going back for seconds when Manna practically melts where she stands. “It’s so rich and sweet~!”

The next half hour ends up devoted purely to letting Mana sample all the food at the festival and discover her favorites. They compare tastes and Syrus offers recommendations. Mana ends up leaning more towards milder flavors of the sweet and savory variety; too much flavor and she’ll gag on it even if she likes the taste. Syrus prefers saltier foods with just a tiny extra kick. Mana’s reaction to hot spices had been concerning but strangely fun.

“Hey, um, if it’s not rude to ask...” Syrus starts as they sit on a bench nibbling on dango. Mana tilts her head to show she’s listening and Syrus ploughs ahead before he can talk himself out of it. “Are you really the Dark Magician Girl?”

Manna chews slowly before swallowing. “What do you think, silly?”

He thinks she is, and he’d call it crazy if not for, well, everything else crazy about the last two years of his life. After literally sentient murder crazy light, he might be ready to believe anything. But then- “Why me?”

“Because you wanted to get to know me,” Manna says without missing a beat. “You didn’t just see a pretty face or a powerful mage; you wanted to know the real me beneath all of that.”

“Oh...” Syrus remembers that conversation. Christina asked him why he had a card crush on the Dark Magician Girl. Did she ask because...

“And because I want to get to know you too,” Mana continues and Syrus sputters as his poor heart makes itself known again. “I’ve gotten to watch you a lot but that’s not the same as interacting. I want you to show me who you are. And I want to show you who I am.”

“Me? But I’m...I’m not...” His eyes fall to the ground as he thinks of that embarrassing episode of hiding in a trash can, of his brother who he couldn’t even stand up to in the end, of the Society of Light that he did absolutely nothing to help stop and even got himself kidnapped by a digital woman and her duel monster lackeys.

“Syrus.” A hand on his cheek brings him back to face Mana’s deep green eyes. “You can do anything and be anyone you want to be. I mean, just look at you already.” She plucks at the yellow blazer and Syrus’ chest fills with pride at the reminder. That’s right. He did do that. All on his own. “You look so good in yellow!” Mana cheers and Syrus’ ducks his face away again. He doesn’t know how to handle all these compliments! “Believe in yourself, and when that’s hard to do, believe me when I say I believe you can do anything.”

Those words might mean more to him than any other praise or pep talk he’s gotten before, simply because they sound so genuine. He’ll hold those words close to his heart for the rest of his life, because someone as strong and powerful as the freaking Dark Magician Girl believes in him. Swallowing, he nods and clears his throat to find his voice. “So, um, what do you wanna know?”

Smiling, Mana stands and pulls him straight back to the carnival games. Oh, so they’re not talking more? Syrus has to admit to being disappointed.

“Favorite color?” Mana asks as they try to catch tiny goldfish and distracts Syrus from the extra shiny one he almost caught.

“Actually...it’s orange,” he amidst sheepishly. “But I look horrid in it.”

“Aw, I think you’d look cute in orange! Like a little pumpkin.”

“A pumpkin?!”

“Oh? I’m sorry, was that an insult?” Mana asks with such genuine concern and confusion that Syrus can’t even be mad.

Shaking his head, Sryus flips the question around on her. “What about you?”

Mana stares at the water in the plastic pool. “It used to be purple...but I think I like grey a little better now.” She looks up and smiles and Syrus can’t help but feel like he’s missed something significant in that response.

“Favorite animal?” Mana asks once they’ve moved on to a ring toss game.

“Dogs,” Syrus says immediately, then feels self conscious about it. “I mean, they’re loyal and fluffy and I’ve always wanted one, they look fun to play with-”

Mana laughs. “Dogs are man’s best friend, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Mine are birds.” Mana looks up to the sky. “Because they can fly. I always wanted that freedom.”

“But you can fly too, can’t you?”

“In spirit form. But I can’t go too far from my card. Like this I can only float a bit.” With a snap of her fingers, her feet lift a couple centimeters off the ground in demonstration.

“That’s so cool.” Syrus stares in awe as Mana sets her feet back on the ground.

“The silliest thing you’ve ever done?”

A deep breath as a laundry list of his most mortifying experiences assault him. Breath out. He digs deeper for an older memory less tarnished by years of ridicule and insecurity. “I wore a sand bucket on my head and called myself a king.”

Mana laughs, loud and sudden, and Syrus takes pride in his four year old self for managing to entertain two people. He doubts he’d share that memory with anyone else; it’s one of the few he has of Zane smiling.

“I used to hide in giant vases then jump out and scare the crap out of my best friend,” Mana says with a wide grin, and Syrus snorts because he can picture it clearly. “Master always scolded me, but his reactions were too fun.”

Her master? Dark Magician then? Syrus wonders what kind of person would get to hang out with both of them. Probably another powerful spellcaster. “What is he like? Your master? Or...is he here today too?”

“Mahad? No, his situation is different from mine so it’s harder for him to cross the border,” Mana says, scanning the festival for their next game. “He’s pretty strict, and doesn’t know how to take a joke. But he’s kind and selfless.” Her voice grows soft and wistful, then she shakes herself and scratches her cheek. “Honestly, we’re kinda opposites, but that’s what makes it fun.”

She points to a shooting game booth before eagerly charging toward it; Syrus shows her how to use the toy gun and manages to beat her at this game. He still lets her pick out the prize, giggling when she picks out a lucky cat keychain.

“Dream career?” The key chain sways as it dangles from her finger.

Syrus fidgets. “It may seem kinda obvious, but I wanna be a pro duelist. A really famous one,” he mumbles, eyes turning to the ground.

“I bet you’ll be more famous that Yugi!” Mana cheers and Syrus quickly waves his hand in front of him.

“No! No, I doubt that!”

“Do you wanna have kids?” she asks while they fish for balloons with little hooks on strings.

Syrus chokes and drops his string straight into the water. “I mean, uh, maybe?? I guess I’d like- like to settle down and- and have a family- eventually...”

Mana smiles, but it looks a bit sad. “Yeah. I definitely want that too.”

“Best childhood memory?” Nimble fingers rifle through the Senbonbiki strings before giving one a tug.

Syrus answers without hesitation. “Zane teaching me how to duel.”

The string is a dud without a prize attached; Mana turns from pouting to look at Syrus with curious eyes. “Oh?”

“Yeah... we...” Syrus looks away, tries to keep the melancholy out of his voice. “We had a good relationship back then.”

Mana hums, reaching out to take his hand and wander back through the festival. “I think...mine is meeting Atem for the first time.”

Atem. That’s Christina’s ace card. Syrus shouldn’t be surprised he’s a duel spirit too. “Are all monster cards duel spirits?”

“Not every card has a spirit attached, but I have noticed almost every design mirrors a creature or person that actually exists.”

“Weird.” Honestly, Syrus never thought about it before, but it’s really weird that a game on Earth could accurately depict creatures from another dimension. Sure, Pegasus based the original cards off carvings he found in Egypt, but those were 3000 years old! Some of the new archetypes look distinctly futuristic, and Jaden designed the Neo Spacians so explain that! Just thinking about it gives Syrus a headache.

“Have you ever lost a fight?” he ventures to ask as they nibble on chocolate bananas.

“Lots of times,” Mana laughs at herself. “Especially during training. And no matter how good you are there’s always someone stronger, so tactical retreat is necessary!”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Syrus nods. The sky’s getting darker. Will Mana still be here for the fireworks? “What’s it like being a spirit?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. “It’s...lonely sometimes,” she admits, voice soft, almost forlorn. “Not many people can see us. We entertain ourselves by watching the world and taking bets on what kind of trouble Jaden will get into next.” Mana shrugs and smiles, an obvious attempt to make light of the situation, but Syrus can see straight through it.

“Oh,” he says, wishing he could put his emotions into words that wouldn’t hollow.

Mana glances out at the darkening sky, voice soft as she asks, “One thing you really wanna do before you die?”

“Huh?” The question startles Syrus as much as the oddly wistful tone. “I guess...” He hesitates. One thing? The thing he wants to do most? That he’d regret never doing? “I wanna be happy. With someone I mean!” he quickly amends and the word babble spills out from there. “I wanna get married and buy a house and share my life with someone. I know it probably doesn’t sounds that ambitious but-”

“No, that’s a great ambition.”

Syrus can’t really name the emotion on Mana’s face. Nodding, he looks down at his feet and fiddles with his hands. “Maybe...if we get to know each other better...you could be that person?” He squeezes his eyes shut, not daring to look up.

An intake of breath. “Syrus...”

The boom rattles through his bones and Syrus screams, flinging himself towards the nearest source of comfort and shelter, straight into Mana’s arms. Oh. Oh, the fireworks! Prying his eyes open reveals bursts of color lighting up the sky as another boom shakes the air. He laughs awkwardly and rights himself, murmuring an apology.

“I don’t have much time left,” Mana says, colored light illuminating her mournful expression, and the dread seizes Syrus by the throat.

“Ki-kiss me properly this time!” Oh gods his voice cracked and got really screechy, but he said it! His hands fist against his legs, trembling as her heart goes off on another marathon, and what if she rejects him? What if he read this all wrong? What if-

“Okay.”

Her kiss lingers on his lips long after the fireworks fade and she disappears back to being a spirit. He can still feel her hand against his own, and this time he knows it’s real.

#gxmonth2021 #fantasyshipping #syrus truesdale #marufuji shou #dark magician girl #ygo gx #yugioh gx #yu gi oh gx #long post

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wrctings · 4 years

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Bill Guarnere x fem!reader | Happy Halloween

happy october 31st everyone! for this imagine, i’m mixing two of my favourite things, halloween and this angry (actually soft inside) italian <3 🎃 (this is based on the character portrayed by frank john hughes, all my respect goes to the real bill guarnere and his family, which i by no means mean to disrespect). I wrote this while listening to The Yodeling Ghost by Bring Crosby and The Andrews Sisters, so that could be a nice song to read this to ❣️

October 31st, 1945

You stopped in the kitchen doorway to a sight that coated your heart with a warmth that even the thickest of blankets couldn’t have generated. You almost didn’t want to enter the room anymore, a smile instantly lightening your features as you allowed your gaze to longer linger on the scene you had just walked in on, coming to a halt as though unwilling to shatter the moment you had just caught.

“Daddy, when are we going to go?” A little girl, no older than ten, with bright eyes fixed upon her dad’s frame, was gently tugging at the man’s shirt.

“Soon, Y/child’s/n, soon. I swear you’re even more impatient that I am, aren’t you?” Bill shook his head but a twinkle of fondness could also easily be discerned in the man’s gaze, which briefly landed upon his daughter’s face before his attention went back to the reason why the child’s patience was wearing out. Indeed, on the table before Bill sat an emptied pumpkin — its innards and light-coloured, almond-like seeds having been set aside in a nearby bowl —, and your husband was making an effort to craftily dig into it with a knife.

“Then we’ll go?” Y/child’s/n asked hopefully, hauling herself on tiptoe to better observe Bill’s endeavour.

“Then we’ll go,” he promised, cutting through the hardened surface of the fruit with quite a bit of struggle to form of a serrated mouth. “I swear you’re even more impatient than me, aren’t you?” he gave her a quick smile as he continued his task. Once he was done with carving such an outline, he could then push the cut-out surface out of the way, leaving a whole in the shape of a grin. ‘There you go,” Bill put the knife down, rubbing his hands together as he took a final look at his creation, then seized the pumpkin and showed it to your daughter. “What do you think?”

“It’s not a very scary pumpkin...,” the little girl commented with a chuckle, though her face showed a pleased expression.

“Not a very scary pumpkin? Let me tell you, I’d be really scared if I came across a pumpkin like that,” Bill retorted, giving the pumpkin a fake suspicious look that made your daughter laugh, and you couldn’t help but join in. This drew your husband’s attention, whom gave you a joyful glance as soon as he noticed your presence in the doorway. “See,” he continued, addressing the girl, “I wouldn’t trust it too much. But thanks to it, I have a feeling somebody’s gonna get some candy tonight.”

“I have the same feeling,” you said fondly, stepping inside the room to join your daughter and husband. Bill got up, leaning on his prosthesis to regain his balance, and gave you an affectionate smile before he washed pumpkin flesh off his hands.

“Mommy, are you going to go treat-or-treating with me and daddy?” Y/child’s/name wrapped her small hands around your leg as she shifted her head backwards to give you an inquisitive look.

“Do you want me to?” you replied tenderly, hearing Bill’s footsteps come closer behind your back, meaning that it would soon be time to grant your daughter’s wish.

“Yes!” she answered cheerfully. “Please come with us!"

“Then count me in,” you stroke your daughter’s back, nodding decidedly. “But before that, you need to put on your costume. Come on, I’ll help you out. I’m sure that daddy will manage not to get too scared of Mr Pumpkin even if we leave him alone with him for a bit,” you gave Bill a playful, loving smile.

“I’ll be on the lookout for anything suspicious from Mr Pumpkin,” Bill answered gravely, and the two of you exchanged a knowing and affectionate glance as you were leaving the kitchen in your daughter’s wake.

You were standing at the bottom of the staircase a quarter of an hour later, readjusting Y/child’s/n’s halloweeny cape as the little girl expectantly hopped up and down, struggling to remain immobile.

“Daddy! Look!” As soon as Bill appeared in the doorframe, she spun on her heels to face him, a proud beam shimmering upon her lips. “I’m a vampire!”

“Wow,” holding the pumpkin he had carved earlier, your husband came closer to take a thorough look at the girl’s new disguise. “You’re a terrifying little vampire! Ain’t nobody stands a chance against you.”

“Now I can scare Mr Pumpkin if he tries to scare you,” Y/child’s/n announced confidently, eyeing the jack-o’-lantern as if she was giving it a warning. Such a bravely sweet statement made Bill’s and yours parent’s hearts melt and your husband picked her up, momentarily putting the pumpkin down so he could plant a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he told her with a smile not devoid of emotion as you rubbed his shoulder.

The three of you then put their shoes on, Bill once again getting hold of the jack-o’-lantern, and you took off for the Halloween-night trick-or-treating which your daughter had been awaiting so impatiently. The sun had already almost set, only remnants of fading warm light rippling upon the ginger and brown leaves that rustled on the trees all around, but most of the houses’ porches were alit with lanterns or lights, some of them even placed inside of carved pumpkins used as decorations. You were not the only ones to have gone out on that evening, meeting some your neighbours whom you greeted before your daughter energetically shot the decisive question: trick or treat? Even without approaching the houses, your pumpkin already filled with a few pieces of candy, which your daughter counted before urging you to go up to the first front door. Her father lifted her up so she could ring the doorbell by herself, and you waited for your neighbours to show up, Bill carrying your pumpkin-container while you were in charge of other sweets that you could give away for other trick-or-treaters.

“Good evening,” you greeted the woman who opened the door, a sheepish smile slipping onto your lips as your daughter joyfully exclaimed: trick or treat, even forgetting to say hello first.

“Well, look at you,” the woman laughed kindly, visibly finding the child’s enthusiasm endearing. “Good evening. I’ll see what I can do for you.” She reappeared a few moments later, carrying a piece of chocolate candy that she put into the pumpkin that Y/child’s/n insisted on taking from Bill. “There you go.”

“Thank you very much, Ma’am,” your daughter replied, this time not giving politeness a miss, which got her another smile from the woman.

“Thank you, we’re sorry for the trouble,” Bill apologised, though giving your daughter a fond glance as he did so.

“It’s nothing, I’m glad I won’t be tricked by this very frightening vampire,” the woman shook her head breezily, but your daughter’s face shone with pride at the fact that your neighbour had got her costume right, and found her scary.

After warmly wishing the woman a good evening, you set toward your next destination. To make your daughter content, you decided to try your luck at all the houses bordering your street, and thankfully got a positive response from every one of their inhabitants — to give away candy was one of Halloween night’s customs, so everybody played along in a joyous atmosphere, especially since your daughter managed to remain polite in spite of her being giddy with excitement. You and Bill couldn’t have been prouder, congratulating the girl on her behaviour and promising her that she would get to taste some of the candy you had collected when you would come home.

Your little expedition came to an end around an hour later, tiredness starting to weigh upon Y/child’s/n as you left the front yard of the last house you had visited. Her eyelids fluttering shut while you were heading back home, Bill ended up picking her up, handing you the jack-o’-lantern, and cradling her in his arms so she could rest peacefully. Although she awoke when your husband and you took her up the stairs leading to her room, then helping your daughter undress and get into bed, her misty state of mind made the drowsy little girl forget all about candy and she quickly cuddled up to her stuffed animal, letting you tuck her in and tenderly kiss her goodnight. You softly closed the door, your daughter already fast asleep, and found yourself alone with Bill.

The two of you quietly went back downstairs, careful not to make any loud noises lest you disturbed Y/child’s/n’s slumber, and in a few minutes you were inside the living room, the door shut behind you. Warmth was flooding the room, the fireplace still ablaze with remnants of fluttering flames and the wood inside crackling cosily, which made an appeased sigh part your lips. You were home.

“Y/child’s/nickname fell asleep quickly tonight,” Bill commented, taking your hand in his. “That was a really good Halloween celebration.”

“But it’s not over yet,” you had had an idea, a smile now spreading upon your face as you let go of your husband’s hand. You came up to the radio stationed near the fireplace, turning it on, and after a few seconds of uncertain hissing and murmuring from the frequency modulation, music spilled from the machine, its jazzy notes instantly swirling in the air and engulfing you and Bill in their rhythm, smooth and ample like velvet to the ears. Matching the date, you realised that it was Halloween-themed after catching some of the lyrics.

“There,” you grinned, turning back around to meet Bill’s inquisitive gaze. Moving along to the song, you came back to him, putting your arms over the man’s shoulders. “Now, I’ve got you all for myself,” you murmured with longing playfulness, your mouth still curved.

“I’m all yours, darling,” your husband’s dark eyes anchored in yours, he slid his arms around your back, his body drifting along the shifting of yours. He had never told you out loud, but dancing with you had always felt incredibly special to him; in spite of losing his leg, it made him feel whole, like he could do anything. Like he was still himself — and he was. He was incredibly strong, and you would forever be proud of him.

As you danced, Bill kissed you slowly, savouring every contact that you shared, before pulling away, which allowed you to look into his face. Waltzing shadows from the fireplace were grazing his skin, skin which you had left so many breathless kisses on, and the amber of his iris appeared lighter in the dimly-lit living room, reflecting the glistening of embers in the fireplace. You had feared losing him so intensely, back when you went through the war together, and now he was standing there in front of you, so alive. And even though the memories of what happened after you had learnt about Bill’s injury still sometimes cut through you like a blade — sobbing uncontrollably in Cpt. Winters’s foxhole, Cpt. Nixon had even offered you his flask of alcohol as Richard had tried to console you best he could —, at least your pain had been alleviated by the certainty that he had made it. You had come home to him, and he had been there.

But on that merry Halloween evening, nothing could have clouded the sheer and simple happiness of dancing with your husband to a spooky tune. You hands in his, you moved along to the music, your merry state of mind translating into the suavity with which your limbs moved in synch; Bill had even forgotten about his prosthetic, feeling like every move was effortless with you. Though being the night of horror, for the two of you that 31st of October was marked with blissfulness that would have made even the scariest of creatures meek. And perhaps, at that very moment, some ghost was watching you from the corner of the room, daydreaming about a long-lost love that it had suddenly set its mind to find again.

#bill guarnere #bill guarnere x reader #bill guarnere imagine #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers #BoB #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers fanfiction #writing #my writing

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jawbonejoe · 4 years

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Hey man, earnest question, might sound a bit loaded. How DO you get to actually feel the screw the world I'm me self-confidence? I try to exercise self-love but mostly it feels forced and fake. Like... how do you reach that. You just keep trying?

So, Anon, since your question two things happened to me. The first happened to the rest of the planet: watching Trump lose the election and thus, the end of a four year nightmare draws nearer.

The second thing happened to only a handful of people in that same world: a dear friend of mine lost his year long battle with leukemia. I found out via his wife’s posts on fb, and bc I was in the middle of cooking with my family on an otherwise celebratory day there wasn’t much I could do to reach out and console her.

I already had the bones of your answer figured out by the time both things happened and now I know even more clearly what to tell you.

You’re on the right path, self care and self love and confidence are absolutely practice and patience and more practice. It will feel fake at first bc you have to be bad at something before you are good at it. But we don’t have a cute saying for nothing ‘fake it till you make it is’ absolutely real.

But I do think you’re looking at the thing in the wrong light. Self-love and confidence should not come from any ‘screw the world’ doctrine. I can see why you would call it that, especially when asking me because I do have a very ‘screw off’ attitude about things. The difference I want to make clear is that self love and confidence are not about the relationship of the self to the world, but the self to the self. You interact with the world every day as a jumble of information being broadcast through your body by a piece of meat with a little electricity inside it. That information is interpreted into sensation, emotion, memory, thought, and of course it is acted upon by the outside world and then reinterpreted to meet the meat’s needs. Being such a crazy living jumble is insane enough but then you have to go out and deal with other people who are also insane living jumbles of things.

That’s where confidence comes in, because the world will interpret you as it wants and one of the few ways to inform its decision is to act like you can handle whatever it’s going to do to you. This is a skill that can be taught, and for those who have to self teach it there’s no better way to learn it than by following an example.

Why I need you to know it’s not a you v. world relationship is because we’re all constantly becoming and reinforcing who and what we are. And within that, true confidence comes from being someone you like being and trusting you can keep being that. The work there comes with reflection and practice and I can’t tell you how helpful it is to have people who will push you to be the best version of yourself.

‘Screw the world’ offers too little to the importance of sharing life with other people. Humans are pack animals, we’re pattern finding machines, and those things together mean that we’re more highly adapted to develop profound bonds with each other than any other animal.

I learned 80% of my own self love routine from my good friend who had spent much of their early life being denied any agency in who they were and thus developed the most powerful armor of self love I’ve ever seen. For them it came from necessity, their love was the thing they needed to stay alive and flourish. From them I learned that being bold and sure of that self love is one of the best ways to reinforce it and broadcast a similar feeling of the power of pride to others.

Making the choice to love the self every day is key. So are things like self care, good health habits, finding time for art and hobbies, tricks like evaluating how you use language especially when talking to or about yourself. I make a point to never tell self deprecating jokes or even allude to such things because not only are they not funny but they tell my jumble of neurons the exact opposite of what we’ve worked so hard to know. As a woman I still struggle with using filler language in how I express myself, things like pre-facing my statements with ‘I think’ or ‘Maybe’ or ‘Well if you ask me.’ It seems like a small thing in the grand scheme but really understanding how you use language and how you can better use it to help you feel confident is a good first step and can always be improved as you learn and build your own routine.

What I can’t understate is how important it is to care. Screw the world is just one way self love and confidence can manifest itself but really it’s bravado because the thing that really matters is wanting to be in the world as someone you like. That feeling of being a peace with who you are, with an eye towards who you want to be, will attract people who like who you are and help you reinforce this idea. I can’t tell you the number of times I felt down and then thought ‘well, I’m best friends with some of the greatest people I’ve ever met, and I know they have great taste so are they wrong for liking me? Hell no!’ Nevermind that having them in my life gives me people I admire that I can look to and say ‘hmm, what would X do in this situation?’

Self love is so personal it’s easy to think of it as some unteachable skill that you’re either born with or not. I tell you that couldn’t be more wrong. Don’t misunderstand, you can not make people love themselves when they don’t, and that is sad but at the end of the day there will be people in your life who enjoy making themselves miserable. You should care for other people but never give so much of yourself that you get nothing back. A good friend will give as much joy as they receive from you.

There is so much to self love that I could go on and on but here’s what I learned from my late friend. As a trans man he made the decision, the painful and scary and hard decision, to be who he was every day of his life. He struggled with it, he fought to understand it, he surrounded himself with people who loved who he was always meant to be even before he could name it himself. He let himself feel the richness of life, he chose to be creative and funny and smart and kind. He was tough when he wanted to be and he showed every quality that a man should have because he chose to be the man he was every single day.

That’s not to say he never questioned or struggled or even failed in who he was but he always got back up and kept fighting to be the best version of himself. In him I always saw an example of how to be the person you want to be, an example of what every person should be. He laughed the hardest at his own jokes, he loved deliriously, he never denied himself his emotions and their expression, and whenever he wanted something he went out and leapt for it.

Self love is never you v. the world because that’s how you miss out on all the people who help you realize who you want to be. You live for the world, you are a part of the world knowing itself in every little moment you exist. Those who don’t care about the world will only grow their unhappiness because they’re denying the importance of the love that binds us all together. That love comes in big acts and small, I personally love the earthly pleasures of food and drink and art because they can be enjoyed with just a little practice and skill and can be shared as much as they can be enjoyed solo.

Every time you choose who you are and who you want to be you perform another act of self love. It may feel like a lot of goofy clown work at first but consider that digging the foundation that stronger and stronger self love will build on. So, long answer to your short question, yes. Keep trying. Look to the world and see its beauty, let yourself feel and learn as much as you can and let other people love you. They will help you be the best you just as much as you help them. And before long the goofy clown work won’t be goofy any more it will just be the truth. You’ll start to look to yourself for the love you need when you need it, and that will enrich the love you continue to feel with others.

#Anonymous #self love #long post #asks #tw: death #grieving

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og-danny-dorito · 5 years

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A Few Tommy Shelby Headcanons

why did i decide to make this? good ass question cause idk myself

S F W:

- OK just to start it off, hes probably bisexual

- hear me out okay

- the dude has varied taste in women, obviously. the only distinct traits i could find between them all were short hair and formless figures. this doesn't necessarily mean that he's bisexual, but at the time there was a lot of social stigma around anything that wasn't heterosexual and so I'm fairly certain whatever attraction to men he has has been pushed down

- and pansexual is also very possible but i'd think that he'd get a little confused with gender fluidity or something like that and historically that sort of thing wasn't not all that prominent, especially in England in the 1930s where racism was still a normal thing

- what he probably does is that anytime he sees that a man is like relatively attractive his brain auto-corrects into harsh criticism and sudden scorn for the person for like no reason to cope with his gay feelings

- so you already know he's a stubborn baby man

- he doesn't admit a lot of things, like that he thinks you look nice or that he's happy to see you because his pride gets in the way a lot of the time

- the only time he really does admit anything outwardly is behind closed doors when you're both probably in bed and relaxed, not really thinking of anything. you'd probably hear him say something along the lines of “im a lucky man” or “dont leave me like the rest of them did”

- yeah, his self confidence is extremely low. of course he knows that he's a damn good businessman and a great leader, but he has doubts more often than not that cause him to loose sight of himself

- usually he drinks when this sort of thing happens because he can't help but feel ashamed to admit his feeling. it's a coping mechanism that he uses for pretty much everything, really

- he can't talk about himself very openly, so you'll either have to sit down and drink with him or urge him to speak about what's on his mind because that shit ain't healthy in more ways than one. (you personally can probably think of a million different solutions, those just seem like the most likely)

- speaking of which, he doesn't sleep much either. he can function on barely any sleep at all, but the issue is that before having to get into bed with someone he probably ends up falling asleep at his desk or on a couch or something. he's not sure how the blanket got there while he was sleeping, but he appreciates it regardless

- tommy probably enjoys someone who's confident in themselves or at least carries and air of being confident. people that he's pretty sure could stomp him into oblivion are hot, he can't help it. of course he also likes people who are the quiet type of scary as well. he can't ever figure out what's going on in their head, and it creates a sense of comfort in ignorance but unease in it as well

- i will elaborate on his secret masochism in my nsfw headcanons that i might make later (maybe idk yet)

- his favorite thing to do in his past time is read, honestly. it's a good way to detach from business and a good way to spend time with someone

- he probably likes historical fiction the most. maybe horror too, but he likes all things history. especially if they're about the Great War because honestly he wants to point out the flaws in some of the accounts he was part of

- if it's fine with you he'd rather just read and sleep all day or maybe bake something together if you've got enough time

- he gets frustrated with things that waste his time though so you'll have to probably do it on your own while he grumbles and watches

- if you were any sort of lgbtq+, he'd be that much more protective of you. same goes if you're a woman because in his mind woman=weaker. it's not necessarily true, but he feels an obligation to be protective of a woman. you're probably much stronger than him or at least seem like it, so not unless you tell him to stop treating you like a piece of glass he'll keep an arm around you at all times. a man he'd probably feel less protective of honestly just because he respects pride and dignity, but that doesn't mean he doesn't let up on the protection

- man or woman or anything like that, once you mean something to him you're going to have his boys’ eyes on you everywhere. it's a dangerous life he leads, and while he doesn't really want you to be involved in it to the point of keeping you in constant danger, it can't really be helped. expect to be kept under close inspection within his area and slightly closer inspection out of it

- is very hesitant to let you become a part of business affairs. even being at the meetings makes you a witness, therefore if one of the lower members snitches you might be in danger if your name is spilled. it's very unlikely he'll try to get you into business affairs unless you're trained and well-educated in that sort of thing

- this includes accounting, contract knowledge, and maybe even basic law knowledge amongst other things

- he may want you to come along for business events like parties or something, but if you're after grace there's close to no chance that he's introducing you as his significant other or bringing you at all. if you do come along though, he may introduce you as a whore. if you're a dude though you'll just be a friend coming along with him

- speaking of which, he has really bad PTSD. from the multiple things that's have happened to lead him to the present, it's not unlikely that he'll wake up with frequent nightmares and be triggered by things such as loud noises that are too sudden or someone screaming because they're in pain or something like that. and after the whole grace incident combined with john’s death he's probably even more of a mess

- this of course leads him to drinking quite often. it's no time unlikely for him to get intoxicated nearly every day of the week, and often times he doesn't say a word about it during and after. in fact, now that he has you around he's even more adamant to not talk about it. but he can't really help but talk once he feels safe doing so

- what if you leave him? would you have doubts because he's mentally damaged? what would happen if you did leave? these questions cause anxiety obviously

- but tommy has always paid attention to the little things. for instance, if you see him drunk and happen to sit next to him quietly while talking about something that has nothing to do with it, he'll definitely remember it the next day. the fact that it takes his mind off of whatever he's mourning about is something he really appreciates because he knows he wouldn't be able to do it himself

- he's never been one to have loose lips, but when he's intoxicated he may or may not just spill to you right there. you could be saying something like “- and then she knocked him the fuck out. It wasn't weird to watch cause she-” and he’ll just look you dead in the eye and say “I thought about France again today.”

- it's very likely you'll hear about his past lovers more than once and honestly Tommy is hesitant to talk about it. he may be insensitive sometimes but he's not an idiot, so he knows it may make you uncomfortable

- just listening to him makes all the difference to him. he hasn't felt like someone cared about what he's had to say without being a Shelby for a long time, and you just caring enough to sit and hear what he says means more than any big success in the business or good news from some merchant overseas

- he, in turn, is very good at listening. in fact, he's so good at it that all of that skill got drained from giving advice cause he's horrible at that. his way of handling things isn't great so when he tells you to shoot the guy at work who’s been bothering you in the hand as a “warning” to the others, don't do it cause

- ok now for random headcanons that are not deep and depressing

- probably likes animals, but honestly if he had to keep one in the house he'd prefer a cat just because they're less strenuous and take less effort to handle. while he's not working he'd like one of them curled up in his lap and purring as he keep some one hand on the pen and the other on it’s head. he'd probably name the cat “Mitten” or “Button” ok let's all be honest with ourselves

- lowkey loves to wear your sweaters or something like that. he'll definitely deny any claims suggesting so, but you know damn we'll he still stealing your clothes whenever he can, feminine or masculine. honestly just having it feel like you're around him all the time by simply wearing your clothes makes him feel really comfortable, especially if you're bigger than him or wear clothes that are bigger than him. it makes him feel safe

- probably also likes it when you in turn wear his clothes. he won't say it out loud but he likes it when he notices that his shirt is missing only to see you groggily fixing yourself coffee/tee/literally anything else in it at like 8AM in the kitchen

- likes the color blue a lot, but red looks really nice on people in formal clothes. if you show up in a red dress or suit or whatever he's definitely going to be fucking you on the table later and that's just the facts

- he gets jealous very easily but never says anything about it. you can tell because he suddenly gets about 10x clingier and literally holds you close to him at all times to make a point. may also stare down anyone that looks in your general direction for good measure

- he gives his s/o flowers all the time, whether he's in person or not. he likes to pamper you to the point where you look like a monarch, but like alfie he fully understands if you're more simplistic and prefer to stay low-profile cause he does too

- guns are sexy and if you can use one or any other weapon that's hot and that's all i'm gonna say about that

- physical appearance doesn't matter to him all that much, but his favorite part of the human body is probably the hands. he likes to see hands that have been through some shit, like scars on them and maybe a little dirt or something from work

- he's always been fascinated by writers and people who can create something from nothing. in fact that sortof imagination is always something's he’s envied and wanted for himself, but he's not hopeless at it. he's very good at making up stories and detecting flaws in plot or logic in the storyline. so if you ever need someone to proof-read for something you missed he's the guy to go to. also he knows publishers all over so if you're having trouble he can hook you up with someone to get your stuff known

- kindof emotionally closed off but he can't help but want to talk when you're around. you're inviting in more ways than one, so he eventually ends up spilling no matter what's wrong

- once it's been established that you're close, the whole family may or may not watch you closely for several weeks trying to figure out whether you're good enough or not. arthur will most likely watch you from afar and give you death glares as a warning and john will defenitely flirt with you to see if you're going to cheat on his brother. finn is probably going to try to make friends with you, but aunt polly will interrogate you because that's what she does. ada will try to get the most information on you from everywhere she can and so and so forth until they finally decide that if tommy picked you you can't be all that bad

- they warm up to you quickly, to put it simply, but tommy will most likely have to shoo them off

- in conclusion, tommy shelby isn't an easy lover, but it's worth the struggle at the end of the day. it's been a while since he's felt someone cared about him, and regardless of the circumstance you bet your ass that once he's grown fond of you there's little to no getting out of it by that point. you're his lifeline, his world, and he plans to grow old with you or at least keep you next to him until he withers away and dies

#Peaky Blinders #bbc peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder headcanon #Tommy Shelby #thomas shelby #shelby #thomas shelby headcanon #thomas shelby headcanons #tommy shelby headcanon #tommy shelby headcanons #my headcanons #peaky blinders headcanons #headcanons #imagines #headcanon #imagine

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beneaththetangles · 4 years

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The Samurai Steps Out on Faith…

“Would you consider joining our team?”

I have to admit, when I saw those words appear on my screen a few months ago, I was beyond stunned. Me? You want ME to join up with Beneath the Tangles?!

Me? A guy who updates his own blog once a year AT BEST?!

Me? A guy who wrote a scathing series of articles about a VERY controversial subject resulting in some PRODIGIOUSLY cutting reviews and commentary leaving me mentally MIA for a whole month?!

ME? A guy who has been known to turn into an Angry Black Man on a wide variety of subjects including politics?!

You seriously want me, a mid-thirty’s black man from Louisiana who just so happens to have spent the last 25 years of his life consuming and loving anime to come write for Beneath the Tangles?

Knowing all this, you want me?

“Well…alright then. You got me. I probably can’t give you much, but you’ll get the best of what I got.”

And with that…here I am.

Hi. I’m Joshua. You can call me Josh. Or Cajun Samurai. Whichever you prefer. Heck, I’m not picky. I’ve been called so many things in the course of my life. Heck, the last few MONTHS I’ve been called some REAL colorful things. Heck, once when I was engaged in a heated political debate (as I tend to do), I was once called a lizard. I wore that name with pride for a while. Lizards are cool. Steve Irwin, God rest his soul, taught me that. In any case, for simplicity sake, I’m Josh. I’m sure most of you got to know me really well in my introduction on Twitter when I spammed your timelines with anime likes and dislikes. If you think THAT was a lot of info, you should see what I post on my own Twitter account. I’m the self-crowned prince of reaction pictures and live-tweeting.

As I mentioned above, I’m a Louisiana native. And before you ask, no, I don’t live in New Orleans. Honestly, I don’t really go to New Orleans that often unless it’s for my yearly trek to MechaCon…and even then, after next year, MechaCon will be going bye-bye, so my trips to NOLA will probably be even more infrequent. Unless I can score some Saints tickets. Cam Jordan, if you’re reading this, I know you’re an anime fan. Hook a brother up.

Once upon a time, I once had a pretty okay blog called The Cajun Samurai. It was just a place where I could get some reviews done and write up some small articles. At the time I started it, I was working a desk job that allowed me plenty of free time to write until my heart was content. But then, things happened, and I got laid off from my cushy job of seven years, and I had to go back out into the real world and do some real work. From a major airline to a major shipping company, to a local automotive parts company to a major lab testing company, I’ve been blessed to see so many different things and have so many different experiences, but sadly, my time to work on my blog was truncated severely and my poor blog was dang near neglected.

I did, however, find time in late January to write up a series of posts about a…particular hot topic that shook the anime community in 2019. I won’t get into it here, but suffice it to say, it was a MAJOR project for me, and a couple of my more…heated posts…caught some REAL undesired attention…which put me in a mental place that I did NOT want to be in. I found myself second guessing a lot of what I did, and I spent the entirety of February wondering if I was actually right in what I wrote. Did I go too far? Did I take it to a level that it didn’t need to go to? Did I compromise my own spiritual beliefs? All this went through my head and it was just so overwhelming. Suffice it to say, when I look back at February 2020, it won’t be the best of times. However, here we are in August, and, in the words of Elton John, “I’m still standing.” However, I can honestly say I didn’t get through it alone, not by a long shot.

Faith was something that I leaned on every step of the way. If it wasn’t but for the love and sweet mercy of the Lord, I would’ve driven myself completely insane. There was SO MUCH prayer going on during that time, and sometimes it was a struggle to get by on an hourly basis, to say nothing of a daily basis. In fact, I fully believe it was God working through TWWK that provided so much support to me both spiritually and emotionally; I can’t even put it into words how much I relied on his support and strength and just knowing that someone else out there was pulling for me, praying for me…it’s a beautiful feeling. I know I’ve probably driven him crazy with my many messages during that time, especially since he has his own family and life, but honestly, I doubt I would’ve been able to get through this without him and some of my other friends online. Also, knowing that the Beneath the Tangles crew were praying for me touched my heart so much. I owe them so much.

Then, one day, TWWK asked me that infamous question about coming over to write and do some Twitter posts. At first, I admit I was hesitant; I was almost ready to turn him down because of all the issues that I went through over my blog posts. I would never…EVER want to expose anyone to drama that involves myself and another person or group of people, and I felt that the target on my back, however faded and off center, would be a target on anyone I was affiliated with. But then I remembered a bit of scripture that pretty much smacked me across the face like Mrs. Kamiya slapped Tai across the face in that one episode of Digimon:

Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest. – Joshua 1:9

“Be not afraid”. “Be NOT afraid”.

Those words rung in my head loud as a bell. And it was for ME specifically. For this particular bit of scripture to be found in the book of JOSHUA…the book I am named after that tells the story of a man who had nothing but his faith to step out on…it was like a spiritual “Hey, Listen!” Sometimes, you have to step out on the strength of your faith and see where it leads you. It’s one thing to say that you believe in God and you trust in God, but at some point in your lives, be it making a small decision like joining a Christian anime blog, or a large decision like getting married or starting that new business, you have to take that leap OF faith ON your faith.

Many times I’ve found myself on that cliff about to take that leap of faith and many times I thought “Dang it, is this the right thing to do? Did I do everything right? Maybe I should rethink this…” but then I say “You know what, God? You brought me to this point. You said You would not put more on me than I can bear. You picked me up each time I fell. You know the outcome of this. What do I have to be afraid of? I trust YOU. Lets do this.”

And so…here I am. For as long as you’ll have me, I humbly offer my services to you, dear reader. It is my hope and prayer that God blesses me with the writing acumen that will entertain you, challenge your thinking, and maybe make your day just a little bit better.

With that out the way, borrowing an idea from TWWK, I offer up my (CURRENT) top 30 anime of all time as a way to introduce myself anime-wise. Keep in mind, this list is always changing. In fact, up to the time of posting, this list has probably gone through about 20 changes. Why? Because just like the autumnal wind, my tastes and interests in anime ebb and flow. Today’s hotness will probably be tomorrow’s “meh”-ness. But as it stands right now, this is it. Yes, there’s some old stuff, yes there’s some new stuff…there may even be a few titles that will surprise you. Hopefully this list, and any subsequent posts, will give you some kind of idea of what kind of anime I like, and by extension, maybe what kind of person I am.

30. Yamada-Kun and the Seven Witches 29. Hitorijime My Hero 28. Silver Spoon 27. Bunny Drop (Usagi Drop) – PLEASE DON’T READ THE MANGA. PLEASE… 26. Lucky Star 25. Daily Lives of High School Boys 24. Hunter X Hunter 23. Sarazanmai 22. Nichijou 21. My Love Story 20. Azumanga Daioh 19. Moribito: Guardian of the Spirit 18. Persona 4: The Animation 17. Beck: Mongolian Chop Squad 16. Kodocha 15. Nerima Daikon Brothers 14. Digimon Tamers 13. FLCL (Original) 12. Neon Genesis Evangelion 11. Ghost Stories (English Dub) 10. Aria: The Animation 9. Nagi no Asukara 8. Assassination Classroom 7. Toradora! 6. Mysterious Girlfriend X 5. Planetes 4. Aria: The Origination 3. Aria: The Natural 2. Cowboy Bebop 1. Digimon Adventure (1999)

Admittedly, I’m not a HUGE fan of countdown lists because I always feel I’m forgetting something and I’m never FULLY satisfied with my choices, but I think this is a pretty comprehensive list! Of course, I’ll probably lay awake in bed tonight scrolling through Crunchyroll and think “OH CRAP! I FORGOT XYZ SHOW!!” and then kick myself for not including it, but hey, for the time being, this list is pretty much THE list. Just know that, quite literally, this list was updated and picked over all the way up to the day it was published!

And I think I’ve taken enough of your time! Funny how this post went from just being an introduction to a testimony to an anime countdown, huh? As a southerner, we tend to digress quite often. I ask that you please put up with my many digressions as I start this new God-given path I set out on with my new friends. Ya’ll have a good one and, as we say down here in Louisiana: Laissez le bon temps rouler! (let the good times roll!)

#Anime #Christianity #Articles #Author: The Cajun Samurai

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kd-holloman · 4 years

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Spring Fever

This is my first time doing the #writerscreedchallenge and I have to admit that I had a lot of fun with this prompt. Thanks @writerscreed and @aubriestar for having such a cool challenge! I don’t write in first person or present tense, like, ever. So, sorry in advance for any errors!

Warnings: Character death

“Billy!” I shout after my older brother as we tromp through the woods. “Billy, Ma said we aren’t s’pose ta go this far into the woods!”

“Quiet, Lenora,” he grumbles in reply. He’s got Pa’s rifle slung over his shoulder, blue eyes sweeping the forest floor. “I wounded the deer. I can’t let it suffer like that. I gotta find it an’ kill it.” He crouches down, fingers gently moving aside dried up and brittle white pine needles. His mouth twists in that funny way it does when he gets frustrated.

The needles are actually soft under my bare feet. I wiggle my toes in them, feeling the coolness of the earth that lies beneath. “I see something.”

It’s a stain of red, bright and vibrant against the tender and fuzzy spring leaves of a beech tree. Beneath it, the ground is soaking up more blood.

Billy stands over him. He smiles and rubs my back. “Good job, Sis. I should take you on my hunts more often.”

I beam with pride. Ma says that it ain’t a lady’s place to hunt and I can’t say I’m a fan of killing the animals, but I like being in the woods.

We follow the sparse blood trail for a few dozen yards. Ma’s words whisper in my ears and worry makes me feel sick to my stomach. “We’re really close to Which Grove,” I whisper. My feet stop moving, I can’t bring myself to take another step.

“Aw, quit your cryin’. There ain’t such thing as fairies. Ma just doesn’t want us to get mauled by a bear. Are you coming or not?”

I try, but even though the earth is only slightly damp from the springtime rains, my feet feel like they’ve been swallowed by mud. “If they find out we’ve gone this far they’re gonna be mad, Billy.”

“Then go home, you baby!” He snaps with a disdainful snort. He kicks one of the mushrooms that is growing in a straight line and continues into the grove.

“Billy!” I plead with him. It feels like a lump is stuck in my throat. Tears sting my eyes. “Why won’t you listen?”

“I’m not a scaredy-cat like you! Go home, Lenora. And if you tell Ma and Pa that I went in, I’ll tell them about those kittens you’ve been hidin’ in the barn.”

I can’t do anything but watch as he continues deeper into the forest. It may have just been my imagination, but it seemed as though the trees swallowed him whole.

###

“Billy where have you been?” Ma demands that evening. It’s nearly sundown and he’d been gone since mid-morning. “I was fixin’ to throw a fit.”

Billy looks pale, eyes a little distant and glassy. “I’m sorry, Ma. I was … I was ....” He blinked and rubbed the back of his neck. His eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “I don’t remember.”

“He went after a deer he shot earlier,” I supplied around a mouthful of sweet biscuits.

“Oh, I guess I was.”

Ma pressed the pack of her hand to his forehead. “Do you feel okay, Billy? You didn’t get hurt, did ya’?”

He shook his head. “I’m just tired.”

“Get some rest.”

###

“Ma, I have something to tell you,” I say quietly. “Billy’s been sick the past coupl’ a days. I think he got sick in the woods. In … Enwhich Grove.”

She gasps and jerks back I like had slapped her. Anger clouds her face, grief quickly follows. “Oh, William,” she sobs, throwing her arms around Pa’s neck. “It’s too late! It’s too late!”

My mouth tastes like I am sucking on a penny. “Too late for what?”

She sobs even harder.

Pa puts an arm around her, holding her close. “Lenora go to bed.”

I don’t want to. I want to stay up and help Billy get better. “I tried to warn him,” I say softly. Then, I do as I’m told.

###

I’m woken in the middle of the night by Billy’s pained groans. I climb out of bed to fetch him some water. “Here,” I whisper so I don’t wake Ma and Pa. I try to hand him the tin cup but he doesn’t take it. I press it to his lips but they won’t part.

His fine hair is plastered to his forehead. His forehead feels as though it’s made of coals. His face is pale in the firelight, but his cheeks are cherry red.

Ma had said it was too late. Is Billy going to die?

I don’t crawl into my bed. Instead, I sleep on the rough and splintery floor next to him. It’s a short sleep, for when the sun starts to paint the sky a pale shade of lilac-grey Billy stands.

“Billy?” I ask, my lips hardly moving.

He doesn’t answer. His entire body gives a violent shudder. When he steps, he doesn’t really pick up his feet. He drags them across the floor, ankles bent at an odd angle, as though they’re too weak to carry him.

His arms hang limp at his sides until he makes it to the door. Somehow, he manages to gather the strength to shove the door open and stagger into the morning.

I scramble to my feet. “Billy!” I call after him.

He doesn’t acknowledge that he hears me. He just keeps shambling across the grass, past the barn, and into the forest.

I’m afraid to follow him. I don’t want to get sick too, but I can’t just let him wander into the woods in his condition.

Once he’s in the cover of the trees, his odd gait picks up speed. His arms are flailing at his side, his head cocked like his neck isn’t strong enough to hold his head up.

I follow him, shiver in my thin nightshirt and bare feet. There’s still frost on the ground this early.

Around me, the birds are starting to chirp their greetings. The sun is peeking over the hills in the easy, illuminating the slits between the trees in golden light.

We reach the edge of the forest, right where I’d left him the other night. I snag his wrist. “Billy!” I plead, voice cracking. “Where are you going?”

His mouth doesn’t work. He just lets out a groan and wrenches his arm free. He staggers past the mushroom border. He hardly makes it a few yards before his entire body convulses. His scream rings out. It sounds the way a rabbit shrieks when it’s caught by a fox.

It makes the hair on my arms stand on end.

Billy falls to his knees on the moss. His body shudders again, spine arching bending and twisting, fingers knotting into the soil.

“What’s happening?” I demand, my voice choked with my own terror.

Billy rips at his shirt and shucks it aside before he falls on his back. He’s bucking on the forest floor, screaming and screaming.

I step closer, just on the safe side of the border. I want to look away, but I can’t. I have to see the entire thing or nobody would ever believe me.

His skin is splitting open, saplings are sprouting from the bleeding gashes in his chest. His fingers are growing, turning a shade of brown-grey. They twist and grow, and sink down into the earth, tethering him there like hooks.

The saplings grow up, up, up. He looks like he’s been speared in the chest several times. Their slender branches stretch out, soft leaves unfurl at the ends.

Billy isn’t screaming anymore. His breath is coming in pained gasps, only the whites of his eyes are showing. Blood stains his lips, stark crimson in comparison to the green fuzz of moss that is spreading across his skin.

It takes over rapidly, covering his legs, his face.

“Billy!” I sob.

If he hears me, he shows no sign.

The moss grows over his face, over his mouth, his chest stops heaving.

I stare at the spot where my brother had just been. It looks just like the rest of the forest, ancient, peaceful. When I study it, I can make out a vaguely human-shape in the way the moss had grown.

The wind blew a hard gust. His tattered and filthy shirt blows onto the safe side of the mushroom border.

I pick it up.

“I told you not to go in there, Billy,” I whisper. “You didn’t listen. You should have listened.”

“Spring Fever” Ma had called it. A fairy curse.

#spring fever #short story #writerscreedchallenge #writerblr #writeblr #writers of tumblr #i wanted to be like trigger warning: cursed boy is claimed by magical forest #sorry if the tenses are fucked up

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centuryofdean · 4 years

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When Lightning Strikes - Chapter 10

Author Disclaimer:: The Hobbit, Middle Earth and its characters are not mine. I take no credit. The story line and even some dialogue–also not mine. Instead I claim my Original Character Laurel and the adjustments to the story line.

Summary:: From when Laurel Took was small she dreamed of a man. Every time she dreamed of him, he could not see or hear her. Over time they are able to communicate–but he’s been dreaming about her too. Finally after years of anticipation Laurel takes the leap and kisses him. Only for her to wake up and dread the real world. Then lightning strikes and she finds herself in a familiar place, with a familiar face.

Rated:: M for Mature. Please do not read this story unless you are 18+ At this point in the story there isn’t much, but later on the M rating will come into effect.

Warnings:: Language, Violence and Scenes of Sexual Nature

Pairing:: Kili x OC (Laurel)

Laurel

Fili explained to me of when Thorin told them they were the princes of Erebor, but Fili was the crown prince. This meant that he was the first heir whereas his younger brother would be the second runner up. That day Fili experienced hatred from his brother for the only time in their lives. Although they were ten years apart they were inseparable, so the month of jealousy from the younger brother took a toll on their relationship.

During a pause in our conversation, a bird called above from the trees. In one fluid motion I drew my bow and notched an arrow trying to be mindful to my companion and not hit him at all. With concentration, I tried to mimic the call, surprising myself at how well it came across. The bird shot out from the trees, larger than I had thought. Lining the tip of the beautiful arrows I had, I released and prayed that I had anticipated the flight of the bird correctly.

Pride filled me as the bird was struck and started to fall from the sky. It was up ahead more, so it would land before we would reached it.

"Did you just shoot a bustard," Bombur called from ahead, looking back.

"I dunno really, I shot a bird," I replied jogging ahead to try and find the carcass.

In the foliage I could see that were was distress through the leaves. It took a moment, but I found the animal laying in the bottom of a small hill. It wasn't the largest bird around, maybe fifteen pounds if I was lucky, but it was some meat to eat.

Not being mindful where I stepped, my heel hit a stick just right and caused me to slip and slide down the hill before me.

"Son of a bitch!"

The scream ripped through me as I felt pain go through my ankle and then the rest of my body as I tumbled down. I halted to a stop next to the dead bird, breathe coming to me in short gasps as I tried to regain it. In the distance I could hear muttering and the sound of thudding boots. In moments Bofur, Nori, Fili and even Kili were above me and looking at the scene.

"What happened," Kili muttered breathlessly.

"I slid on a stick and fell down the hill. Hurt my ankle I think," I closed my eyes and I began to set up. Once I was able to stand up, I attempted to put pressure on my foot. Instead pain stabbed all around. "I twisted it. its gunna swell, dammit!"

Nori started to poke at the bird, checking to see if it were truly dead. When he found it to his liking, he picked it up and looked it over some more. "It won't be much," he chuckled, "but it is better than bread and vegetables! Good shot lass!"

He and Bofur ran back up the hill, yelling about the catch. The brothers turned to follow. The limp that I acquired left me struggling to get up the hill we came from, I actually slid backwards a few times, hissing and wincing at the pain that would shoot through my joint. Fili stopped with a sigh, giving me a look over his shoulder and gestured to his back, "Jump on Lady Laurel, I will assist you to the top."

I saw Kili's back straighten, but he did not turn backwards to see me climb his brother's back. Fili was not helping in this battle of jealousy. It was awkward to say in the least when his hands grasped just under my knees and hike me up higher on his shoulders. I grasped them in front of me, trying not to squeeze my thighs around him.

Once we returned to the group, we found them to be sitting and starting a fire. "We will rest here for the night and continue in the morning," Thorin stated, throwing another look of disdain my way.

Bombur had the bird plucked and beheaded, he was working on cutting the meat and slicing it up. By the looks of the slices he was evenly making, there would be enough for everyone but not enough to fill the pits of our bellies. Not all of the fifteen pounds of that bird were meat for eating.

I was set on one of the logs that was pulled close to the fire. Toeing off my boot, I looked at the swollen ankle. It would be better in the morning when we were ready to leave. "Wish I would have saw a deer instead," I muttered, "rather hurt myself over that than some skinny bird."

The chuckles and laughs that Fili produced were always deep and full of mirth. Almost like a father or an uncle it seemed. Kili's were much more child-like and pure excitement. Occasionally they turned sultry. Sometimes they slipped into a deep sensual laugh, those were nice, maybe even my favorite. The dwarf in question rose from the opposite end of the log and snatched his bow off the ground, trudging into the forest.

"Where is he off too," I muttered. Ori, whom took a seat next to me shrugged.

The stew was done shortly, everyone tucking in and eating earnestly. Gandalf ate quickly and rose, "Thank you for the find Laurel, but I must be off to attend to something quickly. I will meet back with the company on the other side of the mountain in a few days."

No one said anything, just because from what I could tell was Gandalf left and came back frequently. Night soon fell and Kili had yet to return.

"Is anyone going to go look for him," I asked his brother, "what if something happened to him?"

"He is probably hunting," he responded simply, "or he is waiting for you to follow him for a quick romp."

I choked on the stew, "E-excuse me?"

The blond erupted into laughs, patting me on the back to assist me with my choking. Just as tears threatened to spill over my cheeks from the harshness of the stew going down my windpipe, I saw Kili emerge from the woods, pulling something behind him.

"Durin's beard," Fili muttered, rising to get a better look.

Behind Kili was a large animal, and once he got closer to the fire I was able to see it was one of the largest bucks I ever laid my eyes on.

"Oh he's pruning himself alright," Dwalin chuckled from across the fire.

"Pruning," I asked confused.

"It's the process of a dwarf making himself more presentable for mating," Fili muttered as Kili drew closer. "He is going to present you with the deer, he expects you to prepare it."

"Why," I muttered back.

I did not receive my answer though. Instead Kili came to a stop, panting softly before me, dragging the beast of a buck and dropping its hind legs. "When you're done Bombur will cook it."

No other words were said. Instead he crossed to the other side of the fire and stared intently at myself.

"He is proving that he is more suit for you. You said you wanted deer," Fili laughed poking the dead animal, "so he brought you back the biggest one I have ever seen, showing he can provide. Normally he would cook it after you prepare it, but Bombur makes everything taste better."

"Has anyone got a rope," I asked. I got a lot of head shakes and 'no's.

Of course.

Pulling out the dagger I was given, I slipped to the ground to sit in front of the animal. I would have to make the best of it I suppose. The dagger was sharp and made it easy to cut into the belly, but not too deep so that I didn't cut the intestines. It was messy to say the least, I had to keep scooting to keep from getting drenched in the blood. Fili handed me leather ties so that I could tie essential parts closed to keep the meat pristine.

"If you look at him," Fili whispered lowly, "he is stroking his beard. He would normally be braiding it to show its thickness and length, but since he does not have much length, that will not do him much good.

"Soon he will probably end up braiding his hair for the same reason, and eventually he will remove his shirt to show his body to you so you can see his strength."

"Dear lord," I muttered, "jealous barbarians."

I struggled when it came to cutting the sternum, but when I put my weight into it I was able to get it all the way through. Next I had to remove the skin, cringing because it was my least favorite part. Fili attempted to help me move the carcass so that I could remove the skin on the opposite side, but I nudged him away. Shortly after I heard a soft growl, my eyes darting up to find Kili bent over with his fingers in his hair, glaring at his brother. Each of the dwarves were talking quietly, watching me as I worked.

"If the maiden needs help with the dressing of the animal," Fili continued after he backed away, "the dwarf that presented it should help. He sees me trying to help you, which he takes it as me trying to help provide for you."

Jesus, they were fucking barbarians.

"We won't all be able to eat all of this thing," I muttered, "so we'll just eat half of it I suppose. It won't last through the night anyway, it will spoil."

I started to cut out steaks. They were big steaks, enough to have one or sometimes two for each of us. Bombur rose and waddled over to me to take five or six steaks at a time, rinsing them with a couple of water pouches they had. Once all the steaks I cut out were taken and cleaned, I wiped at my forehead with my wrist, probably smearing blood everywhere. I dared look at Thorin to try and determine his mood. It was then he decided to stand and speak.

"The Halfling fed us earlier, and thanks to Kili we were fed again, tonight we feast like kings," he roared in cheer. The rest of the dwarves shouted as well, each rising to thump Kili on the back. His dark brown eyes never leaving my form, raking over all the aspects.

"I want the antlers," I told him plainly as he looked at me. It was a nice eight-point rack, nice thick bases and almost perfectly even on either side.

Surprise didn't take me when he rose and borrowed Dwalin's axe, tossing it over one shoulder and pulling the deer by one leg over to the side of our camp site. He returned within ten minutes, presenting me with the top half of the scull and twelve-point rack. He must have rinsed it as well because there was little traces of blood to see. I set it aside and watched as he disappeared with the deer carcass.

"Must have really made him jealous," his brother laughed once more. "Have never seen him pruning before."

When he returned, he grabbed a plate from Bombur and a steak, kneeling before me and handing me the plate. "Thank you," I whispered, picking up the warm meat with my bare hands and started to tear into the meat. A soft smile tugged on the corners of his lips, he rose and returned with another plate of his own; and pushed his brother from the spot next to me to take his seat.

The group—and even myself—burst into a round of laughter. The tension was finally gone, and everyone started to talk again as if nothing ever happened.

"Are you done pruning yet brother," Fili slapped him on the back.

The steak was marvelous, one of the best deer I had ever eaten. It was juicy and cooked just the way I liked it. I felt as though I was a mess, because the juices dribbled down my chin, not to mention I was covered in blood. The plate sat next to me, and I sighed in contentment.

Kili bent down, slipping his arms around my knees and back, "Come along now little doe," he muttered, "I will take you to clean up."

"Little doe," I laughed softly in question.

Since night had fallen, soreness started to creep in and tried to drag me to sleep. All the walking and the hour it took to prepare the deer had me almost exhausted. As Kili carried me bridal style through the trees, I released another content sigh and let my head fall back against his shoulder.

"You had nothing to be jealous of," I muttered, pulling on the large braid he placed in his hair. A scoff left him. "I am serious. It's your brother of all people, I would never do that to you."

We arrived at a smaller stream, Kili kneeling down to set me at the edge of it. He ripped a piece of fabric from this shirt and wet it before bringing it up to my face. The ice cold water had me bolt to awareness, but grateful for the wake up. I didn't want to fall asleep before we got back to the camp. Once my face and neck were cleaned of blood and leftover deer, he attempted to try and wipe the blood from my clothes.

"Don't worry about it," I took the rag from his hands and continued to wipe my own. "And stop pruning or whatever they called it, I can clean myself."

"I apologize," he muttered, "I just saw Fili and you laughing and smiling with his arm around you—I just saw red. Then he carried you on his back…"

The moonlight lit the trees and shimmered off the creek, all the stars and beautiful hues of blue and purple amazing me. Kili kicked his feet above the water’s edge in tune with my own.

With a sigh I crawled into his lap so I sat astride, throwing my arms around his waist. "You don't ever have to think of that of me," I sighed, "I just don't know if I can give you what you want Kili."

"What is it you think I want?"

I had the hinting suspicion that sex was one of the things, but I would not say it was the only thing. Kili may have chased a lot of elves, but through the years he's come to care for me at least as a friend. As of late I could tell that it ran deeper than just friendship, or a quick romp in the woods as Fili said.

"For this thing between us to progress," I murmured, eyes trying to find his own for confirmation of what I said.

"This is true," he whispered, smile evident while he cupped my face, "not just physically Laurel, I want everything."

"I don't know if I can give you everything."

"Can I at least have something for now," he asked breathlessly.

If it made him happy, I suppose. With a small nod I threaded my fingers through his braid, tilting his head to mine so that I could taste his lips. The last and only kiss we shared was heated and hurried, not even real. This time I was determined to make it last and mean something.

Just as I remembered, his lips were soft and velvety against my own, but real. It was a feeling I would love to feel all over my body. His one hand grasped my hip to pull me closer while the other fingered my hair as well. A jolt of pleasure came over me when he slanted his mouth open, tongue seeking out my own. The first touch of it tangling with mine had me moaning softly.

Kili grunted, hands leaving my hair and picking me up completely to throw each of my legs around his waist. At this position I could feel the hardness in his pants pressed up against my bottom. I kissed him back with more heat, my lips pushing back harshly as I pulled his head closer to my own. Every movement was pleasure spiking right to my core.

One of his hands fisted in my hair and yanked my head backwards so his lips could attack my neck. A louder moan ripped through me, coming out as a mewl at the last second. Teeth started to nip at my neck while his other hand slipped over and unknowingly undid the buttons of my vest. Another gasp left me when his hand encased my clothed breast. It felt good, too good.

Finally we were both making noises of pleasure, his hand fondling me while I took the time to kiss his neck and experiment biting him as well. In moments we were rocking into one another, the best jolt of pleasure I ever felt going right to my core. Heat and tingling bliss radiated from my center as it rubbed up against his length through our clothes.

"Oh Kili," I moaned, "too much."

His hands moved from my breast and hip to cup either side of my face where he pulled me into another soft kiss.

"Thank you little doe," he panted, "that was glorious. I will have prune around you more often."

Previous Chapter << Chapter 9: Following the Path of Jealousy

Next Chapter >> Chapter 11: Easily Broken, Easily Fooled

#the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #kili x reader #kili x oc #kili durin #fanfiction #fanfic #when lightning strikes

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korora12 · 5 years

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Ladybug Week Day 1 - First Date

Day 2

Word Count: 5103

Finally, after years of scrimping and saving every single penny she could spare while working security for Beacon Enterprises, Ruby had finally managed to pull together enough money to buy her own spaceship. Crescent Rose wasn’t a huge ship; she had enough room for a small crew of four to eight people and a decent amount of storage space, but her real strength was her faster-than-light engine that made her perfect for life on the edge of known space, far from the network of wormholes that linked the Galactic Confederacy of Kingdoms. All she needed now was a crew. Ruby’s sister, Yang, had already signed on as her pilot, but she still needed at least two more people for a full crew. Fortunately, Yang had been around the block a few times and knew some folks who might be interested.

Yang had thrown together some surprisingly professional-looking dossiers on a number of people, all of whom could be good crewmates, but Ruby could tell she was pushing for two in particular. The first was Weiss Schnee, former heiress of the SDC, a corporation with a less than impressive reputation of weapons dealing, employee abuse, and anti-synthetic discrimination, amongst other things. Also, she was Yang’s on-again-off-again girlfriend. The second candidate was Blake Belladonna.

Ruby recalled Blake’s dossier again. The first thing that had caught her eye was that she was a Fully Automated UnNetworked Intelligent Synthetic, or FAUNIS for short. Also known as a robot, if you wanted to be politically incorrect. The cat ears atop her head were a dead giveaway; at first all FAUNIS had been built with a single, visible animal feature to distinguish them from humans. Part of it was meant to prevent them from pretending they weren’t FAUNIS in public society and part of it was to degrade them and put them on the level of lesser animals. At least, that was what the records of the company that designed and created them said.

That had been almost two centuries ago, though, and since then FAUNIS had been recognized as citizens and given full rights. The animal traits had stuck around, but now they were a symbol of pride and uniqueness, intentionally separating themselves from the humans who had once created them.

Now, Ruby didn’t have any problem with having a FAUNIS on her crew, but she knew there were some who would object. FAUNIS citizenship had only been granted a few years before Ruby was born, and some people, especially those living on the outskirts of society, were slow to accept change.

Still, Blake came highly recommended by Yang, so Ruby was willing to give her a shot. All that was left was to meet and interview her.

Ruby looked up at the building she stood before and did her best to suppress an eye twitch. Yang had arranged the meeting, assuring Ruby that she didn’t need to worry about anything because the owner of the place owed her a favor. She’d failed to mention that said place was one of the fanciest restaurants on Vale.

Glancing down at her usual outfit (blouse, skirt, boots, gloves, and knee-length coat, all in red and black), Ruby suddenly felt underdressed.

But there was no time to change, and Ruby honestly didn’t think she owned anything nice enough for this place anyway, so all she could do was muscle up and head inside.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Blake didn’t know much about her potential new employer going into things. She knew she was Yang’s sister, but further information was scarce. Still, it said something that their first meeting was to be held at The Solstice, so Blake had tried to dress for the occasion.

Ruby Rose, it seemed, hadn’t bothered to do the same, which had the unintended, or so she assumed, consequence of making her very easy to spot. She looked… dusty? It was a strange descriptor, but it was the first one that popped into Blake’s mind once she got a good look at her. Not in a bad way, she just looked like she would be more at home in the dirt and grime of the outside world than she did sitting in a chair surrounded by people in fancy dress. If pressed, Blake would say she looked to be in her late-20’s, but she was notoriously bad at guessing the age of humans.

She did her best to walk confidently as a waiter led her to Ruby’s table. She’d never been in a restaurant so extravagant before. It was quieter than similar places she’d been, with a violinist and pianist duo performing live for the patrons. A quick survey revealed that she was the only FAUNIS in the building.

Ruby stood when they got close and held out her hand. “You must be Blake. I’m Ruby Rose. But you already knew that, because Yang probably told you. Um, it’s really nice to meet you, and I hope we can work well together. Not that that’s a guarantee yet, this is still the interview phase, but–”

Blake took the offered hand and shook it, cutting off the woman’s awkward outburst. “It’s nice to meet you too.” From up close, the one thing that caught her attention the most was Ruby’s eyes. They were silver, a rare color amongst humans, and she couldn’t help but stare. She watched the eyes as they ran down her own form, then back up and off to the side.

Ruby gestured at the table, a bit of red entering her cheeks. “Let’s sit.” The waiter gave them their menus, then quietly disappeared.

Ruby began looking through her menu, a furrow slowly appearing in her brow. “No pictures or descriptions? I’m not even sure what some of things are. Sorry if this place is too much; I would have chosen something more low-key myself, but Yang set it up and I didn’t realize until I got here what kind of restaurant this was.”

Blake let herself smile. Knowing Yang, she probably had ulterior motives for doing something like that. “I’ll admit, it doesn’t really line up with the job I’m being offered.”

“Right! The job!” Ruby looked up, then paused. “You haven’t opened your menu. Aren’t you going to eat?”

Crap. Blake had gotten so distracted watching Ruby that she’d forgotten. She ran her finger along the laminated edge of the menu in contemplation. She still wasn’t completely set on taking this job, not until she had a better idea of what was expected of her and, more importantly, what kind of person she’d be working for. The fact that she was Yang’s sister put points in her favor, but one could never be too sure. Perhaps this was a good opportunity for a test?

“I’m only a robot,” Blake said, trying not to let the sarcasm color her voice too much. The word tasted sour on her tongue, but she forced herself to continue. “I don’t eat. Just plug me into a generator and I’ll be fine.”

Now Ruby looked offended. “You’re not the first FAUNIS I’ve met, Blake. I know you don’t need to eat, but I also know you can. And every FAUNIS I’ve talked to about it prefers eating to not.” Her face shifted from offended to considering. “Still, if you’d prefer, we can take this interview somewhere else. I think there’s a park nearby.”

Blake shook her head and opened her menu, glad that Ruby had passed her first test. “No, this is fine.”

Silence settled over the pair as they took their time deciding on their orders. Moments before the silence became awkward, Ruby glanced across the table and half-muttered, “It might not be my place to say, and I’m sorry if I’m overstepping any boundaries here, but I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t call yourself that word. It makes me uncomfortable to hear it.”

Blake quirked an eyebrow. Ruby was right, it really wasn’t her place to ask that of her. “Ashamed of your people’s history?”

Ruby shrugged one shoulder. “That’s part of it, I guess. But like I said, you’re not the first FAUNIS I’ve known. I’ve seen some pretty terrible things firsthand, things I'd rather not be reminded of.”

Blake recognized the look of far-off guilt in her companion’s eyes. She hadn’t expected that from her. She wasn’t about to apologize, but she supposed she could offer some concession. “I’m not fond of the word myself,” she agreed. Considering it traced its origins to an old word for slave, she could only wonder why anyone would be.

At that moment the waiter approached to take their orders and the topic was dropped.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

“So, the job,” Ruby began, trying her best to focus on the interview, and not on the gorgeous woman in a slim black dress sitting across from her. It was difficult, though, to not be distracted by the gleam of her eyes, a deep gold that practically shone in the low lighting, nor by the way her long, red nails traced patterns on her jawline whenever she was lost in thought. “Yang probably told you some stuff about it already.”

Blake nodded. “Freelance mercenary work on the frontiers of space.”

“One place in particular,” Ruby corrected. “The Draconis system. It’s a binary system that’s becoming really popular as a waypoint between Kingdom space and uncharted space. Apparently it’s close to a bunch of other systems that show promise for habitability or resources, so a lot of spacers, explorers, and surveyors pass through, which means lots of potential for escort jobs. Plus there’ll be people planetside trying to set up new towns, and those kinds of people always need work done.”

“Sounds like the kind of place that won’t be frontier in another decade or two.”

“Maybe,” Ruby agreed. “But there’s opportunity there now.”

Blake ran her finger in circles over the table. Ruby hoped that meant she was considering the offer, and not that she was already bored. “So when you say mercenary, you really mean odd-jobber.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Ruby trailed off. “I mean, I’m sure there’ll be some fighting. If nothing else, there’s always Grimm.” Grimm were an unfortunate reality of space travel, but they made steady work for anyone with the know-how and tools to fight them.

“Of course,” Blake agreed. “So what would my role on your crew be?”

“Yang and I grew up in a small town on Patch.” Ruby gestured vaguely upwards, where the moon in question would be hiding behind the roof. “It was in the country, sure, but that’s not the same as where we’re headed now. But I’m told you have experience living on the frontier.”

Blake nodded. “That’s true. I spent almost half my life out there.”

“That’s what Yang said. She didn’t give me any details, though,” Ruby prodded, fishing for more information.

Blake leaned back in her seat. “As I’m sure you can guess, I’m originally from Kuo Kuana. I’m a member of Generation Prime, the first generation of FAUNIS made after our liberation. My…” She tapped a finger against her cheek. “Parents? Valean doesn’t have the best word for it. How much do you know about FAUNIS childhoods?”

“Well,” Ruby said, “I know it’s a lot shorter than a human’s. You’re made in factories, pre-programmed with a lot of things humans have to learn, like language and object permanence. Most of your childhood is spent learning about how the world works, like culture and physics and social interaction. I’m guessing your parents are the people who raised you?”

“Sort of,” Blake agreed. “Culture back home is very community-focused. An entire town or village will come together to raise new FAUNIS as a group, but most of them were more mentors than anything else. My parents were the ones who took me in and shared their home with me.

“They were involved a lot in building and spreading FAUNIS civilization and trying to claim political independence for the Menagerie System. So I spent a lot of my childhood in the middle of nowhere, helping build new towns and villages from the ground up. It’s hard work and I’m pretty familiar with the challenges it raises.”

“Excellent!” Ruby declared, perhaps a bit too loudly. “That expertise is why I want you on my ship.”

Blake made a wordless noise of understanding, then settled into silence. Ruby wasn’t ready to push her on joining just yet, they had plenty of time before a decision had to be made. Before that happened, she wanted to get to know this woman a bit better. “So it sounds like you were doing good work back in Menagerie. What brought you out here?”

If Ruby hadn’t been watching Blake’s hands so much, she wouldn’t have noticed when they briefly tensed. After a moment, she began speaking slowly. “Some friends and I disagreed with the elders about how best to fight for our independence. We gathered together and took our protests to Vytal and, when the Confederation capital wasn’t enough, to the capital planets of the four Kingdoms. That’s how I ended up on Vale.”

“I heard about some of those protests,” Ruby said. “Certain terrorist groups notwithstanding, it was pretty impressive what you were guys were doing and the progress you were making. Why stop?”

Blake took her time answering that. “It wasn’t working. Things weren’t improving fast enough. Some of my friends wanted to change our methods, but they were going too far and when I couldn’t convince them to stop, I backed out. I spent some time homeless, with nothing but a portable, solar-powered generator for food. Then I met Yang, and she helped me find a job and a place to stay.”

Yang hadn’t ever told Ruby that part of the story. Granted, Ruby had never asked, but she always assumed the two had met through her work or at a bar or something.

Ruby considered her answer carefully before continuing. “So, why this job, then? After everything you’ve done, it’s kind of a change of pace to disappear to the edge of known space.”

“Honestly?” Blake folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. “Because I don’t know what I want anymore. I used to think I knew the best way to fight; that if we just passed one more law or held the right police officer or official responsible for their actions, we’d eventually win. But I don’t know anymore. I still care about the fight, I still want to make things better for my people, but I’ve realized I have no idea how to do that. I think I need to take a break from it all, get some distance. Then maybe I can come back to the problem later with new answers.”

It made sense, if you looked at it from the right angle, but Ruby wasn’t convinced there wasn’t more to it. Still, she knew when not to push a subject, so instead of pushing for more, she said, “I’ve been told the frontier is a good place to go to find answers about yourself.”

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Blake wasn’t sure why she was being so open with Ruby. It was easy, somehow, to just be honest with this woman. Almost scarily easy. She changed the subject before she said too much.

“What about you, Captain? What drives someone to spend all her money on a ship, all so she can fly to the middle of nowhere looking for the possibility of work?”

“Well,” Ruby said, “it sounds like fun, doesn’t it? I mean, I’ve always wanted to help people. I used to read stories about dashing rogues, bounty hunters and heroic pirates who swooped in to save the day, only to fly off into the sunset afterwards. I’d imagine I was them, wandering around until I found someone who needed help. I worked at Beacon for a while, fighting Grimm and the occasional raiding party, and that helped people. Mostly rich people, though. Working a weekly shift on a space station orbiting a wormhole doesn’t exactly feel very heroic, you know? I think I can do more good out on the edge of the unknown, where the world is mysterious and magical and anything can happen.”

She wanted to be a hero? It was a noble goal, but still, “The world isn’t kind to heroes. Sometimes you do everything you can to make the world a better place, but it isn’t enough. No matter how hard you try to stand up or stand out, the world will keep beating you back into the hole it put you in.” Blake’s pulse was racing. She could be ruining her chances at getting this job, a job she still wasn’t sure she wanted, but she couldn’t stop the words from escaping her. It felt like she’d been bottling these things up for years, and now this woman, this girl, wanted to talk about heroics like it was so easy. “It’s not fun or romantic. It takes the effort of ages to make meaningful change. Heroes carry the weight of the world on their backs until it breaks them, heart, body, and soul. Then that weight will twist you into something no one will recognize anymore.”

Her hands hurt. She glanced down to where they rested on the table. A light bronze fluid leaked slowly from where her nails pressed tightly into her palms.

Ruby reached for her hands, pausing a hair’s breadth away. A moment of hesitation passed in silence before she gently grasped them, turned them upwards, and unfurled her fingers. Blake let her do so without resistance.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t try.” Ruby began dabbing Blake’s palms with her napkin, cleaning her outer layer as it stitched itself back together. “I know real life rarely lines up with stories. I know change usually comes slowly, and isn’t always for the better. I know trying your best doesn’t always mean you’ll succeed. But there’s value in the effort. Sometimes it takes coordinated effort from millions of people to make things better, but sometimes it just takes one person. Heroes exist, but they aren’t the giant, glorious figures that stories paint them as. A hero is someone who does the right thing in the right place at the right time.” Blake’s palms were clean and the only sign of her injuries was one very dirty napkin, but Ruby still hadn’t let go. “That’s what I want, to be where I can do the right thing and know it’ll leave an impact. And yes, I want to have fun in the meantime. The universe is a beautiful place full of amazing things and I want to appreciate that. But at the end of the day, I’ll always pick helping someone in need over enjoying myself.”

Ruby’s hands were covered in hardened calluses that spoke of experience and toil and lent weight to her words. Even so, it felt like the two of them were having different conversations. She didn’t understand where Blake was coming from any more than Blake understood Ruby.

And yet, the way she talked sparked familiarity. She sounded like he did, back before he changed. She had a powerful passion tampered beneath a layer of certainty about how the world worked. She had the answers and she knew it. But the answers were different this time, and Blake found herself preferring Ruby’s definition of a hero over the one she’d learned so long ago.

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Blake was impressive. For all that she tried to deride heroism, she was already a hero in Ruby’s books. By her own admission, she’d spent most of her life fighting for FAUNIS rights in whatever ways she could. All the while, Ruby had been living a mostly comfortable life in one of the nicest cities in the known galaxy. Ruby could only dream of being half as amazing.

The pair sat together quietly, Blake seemingly lost in thought and Ruby unsure what else to say, until the waiter returned with their food.

The conversation that followed was much lighter than their pre-meal talk. They shared stories and anecdotes from their past, starting with Yang, who was a good source of stories for anyone who knew her, and continuing on from there to talk about other friends they’d known. They discovered a shared love of reading and discussed, and eventually argued, the finer points of a book they’d both read. Blake even returned to the topic of her family after a while, and Ruby returned the gesture by talking about her father and uncle, who’d raised her ever since her mother died when she was young.

It was fun, and Ruby found herself enjoying the night far more than she expected from a job interview. Blake was surprisingly easy to talk to, despite how reserved she’d initially appeared.

So of course, just when things were going well, someone had to show up and ruin it.

As the night crept onward and the pair’s meals slowly disappeared, a man and his date were seated at the table next to them, both dressed to the nines. The two had been a bit rude to the waiter while ordering, but for the most part they’d been quiet enough that Ruby hadn’t been bothered by them.

Then, when their plates were nearly empty, the man reached over and grabbed Blake’s arm. “Excuse me,” he said, plastic smile pinned to his face, “could you go tell the kitchen staff to hurry with our food? We’ve been waiting for twenty minutes already.”

Blake blinked in surprise, jarred from her tale of a particularly memorable protest she’d taken part in. Ruby’s stomach churned preemptively in disgust at what she was about to witness, while Blake grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled it off her. “Ask a waiter, I don’t work here.”

Ruby was impressed at how calm Blake sounded.

“Don’t give me that.” The man’s smiled slipped off, an ugly sneer taking its place. “I can see that you’re taking a break to talk with your friend, but you still have a job to do. It’s time to get back to work.”

“I told you,” Blake responded, ice creeping into her voice, “I don’t work here. I’m a customer.”

“Liar!” the man shouted. Then he did the unthinkable. His hand lashed out and grabbed Blake by her cat ear. Ruby, already rising from her chair to interfere, froze in shock. “There’s no way they’d let someone like you in here. You don’t even need to eat! The only way you’d get in here is as an employ—”

Blake’s shock wore off faster than Ruby’s, and she chose to respond with her fists. Said response left the man on the ground, dazed and leaking blood from his nose. “DON’T,” she added, “touch me.”

The man’s date moved to interfere, but Ruby suddenly found she could move again, so she grabbed their wrist and twisted hard.

“What is going on?!” A woman in a manager’s uniform marched towards them.

“That thing attacked me!” the man shouted from his spot on the floor. “I want it fired, no, scrapped!”

The woman gave Blake a once-over, then turned back to the man. “She doesn’t work here. She’s a customer.”

The man’s face turned so red it almost matched the blood on his upper lip. “Covering for your co-worker, huh? I’ll have you know I’m friends with the owner of this place. I can have you all fired!”

The woman’s already unpleasant gaze hardened even more. “I am the owner and I’ve never met you before in my life.” She pointed her finger towards Ruby. “Meanwhile, her sister is a friend of mine, which makes these two very important customers whose night you’ve just ruined. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

If the man got any angrier, Ruby suspected he’d burst a blood vessel. “How dare you treat me like this! Don’t you know who I am?”

“No,” the owner replied. “And I don’t care. But if you don’t leave now, you can tell the police who you are while they arrest you for trespassing.”

After a moment spent glaring at everyone he could see – Blake, Ruby, the manager the wait staff, the other customers who were watching silently – the man picked himself up and stormed towards the door. Ruby released his date and they silently followed.

The music, which had cut out at some point during the altercation, started up again. No one stood. No one applauded. Everyone just turned their heads away from the show and back to their meals.

“I am so sorry about that,” the owner said, bowing at the waist. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Blake shook her head, ears flat against her skull. “Let’s go, Ruby.”

Ruby was glad Blake was including her, that she hadn’t walked out and left on her own. She glanced at their mostly-finished meals. “Do you want to get a to-go container?”

“No. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“I understand,” the owner said. “Please, tell Yang I still owe her. A night like this doesn’t make up for anything.”

Ruby promised she would, then turned to follow Blake, who was already making for the door.

Once they were outside Blake sighed, tension slowly draining from her frame. The two stood together by the entrance, faint music from within occasionally drowned out by the sound of passing cars.

Blake was the first to speak. “Pretty terrible way to end the night, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ruby agreed. Things had been going so well, too, right up until that jerk showed up. Blake didn’t just interest Ruby as a potential crewmate anymore. She was a fascinating woman in her own right and Ruby had been enjoying getting to know her. For the last few years nearly all her time and money had been put towards saving up for her ship and preparing to leave Vale. Nights like this were rare, and the company even rarer. Ruby found that she didn’t want to go home just yet. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Blake glanced down at her, a question in her eyes. Standing next to her now, Ruby realized for the first time how much taller Blake was than her.

“The end, I mean!” Ruby tore her brain away from distracting thoughts. “It doesn’t have to be the end. I’m pretty sure there’s a bar nearby that serves amrita.” Her hands had a bad habit of flailing every-which-way when she got nervous and she could already feel them starting to fidget. “We could head there. You could finish the story you started. I mean, I understand if you just wanted to go home after that. And the interview’s basically over anyway. The job’s yours if you want it, but you don’t have to decide yet, you can get back to me tomorrow. But I was having a lot of fun talking with you and I kind of didn’t want the night to end just yet and—”

Blake interrupted her by gently grabbing one of her waving arms and wrapping her own around it. “That sounds lovely. Lead on?”

Ruby felt her face warm as she nodded.

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Amrita was a magnetic fluid with zero nutritional value and, usually, no effect on humans. The qedem of Mistral and the materia of Atlas both found the drink more annoying than anything, as it set off their natural magnetoreception. The only people who regularly drank it were FAUNIS, for whom it had an affect similar to alcohol in humans, so any bar that served amrita drinks was usually assumed to be FAUNIS-friendly. Blake was pleasantly surprised to find such a bar in the same upscale commercial area as the Solstice.

The place was cleaner than most dives she’d spent time in, but just as loud and just as rowdy; she’d had to adjust her hearing settings before she’d even stepped in the door. She was also pleased to find she wasn’t the only FAUNIS in the room anymore. The two of them found a spot at the bar between a boy with rabbit ears and a girl with a snake tail.

The drinks helped relax her and, with a little prompting from Ruby, she soon found herself venting her frustrations to a captive audience. Spirits flowed and spirits rose and Blake was, once again, enjoying her night.

Her mind was cloudy by the time she and her drinking partner stumbled outside, supporting each other’s weight while trying to call for cabs. She knew already that she wouldn’t be able to remember everything that had happened that night, but she hoped she’d remember the important things. Like how Ruby had jumped to her aid in the restaurant. Or how easily and often she smiled.

It worried Blake how much Ruby reminded her of him at times. Blake had been the one to start the violence in the restaurant, but Ruby had joined in easily, clearly familiar with the concept. And sure, Ruby had been kind to her. She was attentive and open-minded and intelligent. But he’d been all those things once, too.

But still, there was something different about her.

With the two of them so close, neither fully able to stand on their own, Blake couldn’t help but notice that Ruby smelled like roses. Once upon a time, that scent would’ve brought with it memories of violence and undirected rage. But now, faded by time and distance, thoughts of that man didn’t hurt as much. Instead, being with this woman left her feeling calm and safe.

There was still a decision to be made. Except, looking back over the night, Blake realized she’d already made it, even if she couldn’t say exactly when.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” Ruby murmured as she helped Blake into the first cab. “Especially with the karaoke machine. I didn’t expect you to be into deathcore, but you rocked it.”

Blake’s motor functions were on the fritz at the moment, but in the process of getting her seatbelt on, she managed to slip her hand into Ruby’s. “Me too. This was the best night I’ve had in years. Even with what’s-his-face.”

Ruby grinned and Blake cursed the amrita for messing with her coolant system because her head kept getting warmer. “I hope you take me up on my offer. I really don’t want this to be goodbye.”

Ruby squeezed her hand once more before squeezing out of the car and closing the door.

“Wait!” Blake shouted, rolling down the window. “One last question before I go, Captain.” A glimmer of hope lit up Ruby’s eyes. “When do we leave?”

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A/N: Just so y’all know, going forward, I decided to set all of my entries for ladybug week in the same alternate universe as a continuous story, which I’ve taken to calling The Last Frontier (I’ll be putting all of these on my FF and AO3 accounts too, eventually). Special thanks to @ladyvallhalla for starting the conversation that led to me coming up with this idea.

#rwby #ruby rose #blake belladonna #ladybug #ladybug (rwby)#ladybugweek #fanfiction #my writing #The Last Frontier #space au #Ladybugweek2k19

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